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swallowed and raised her gaze. “I just want to live in
peace, Liza.”
    Liza's eyelashes flickered as she read Betty's face. She
tried and failed to give a comforting smile. “There is no peace.
There never will be. Pick your friends. Pick them
wisely.”

Chapter 6
    A
week later, on the Fifth of November, at the Fairy Ring Carnival in
the Doomsday Forest, Betty saw Clarkin Hannah again.
    He
dressed head to toe in black with jewel-toned patches clinging to
his cape. Betty froze in her tracks as she entered the
close-cropped meadow, recognizing him by his stride. A beaked
half-face mask obscured his cheekbones and brow, and he didn't
smile as he moved through the crowd. Seeing him like this
transformed him from a man to a flicker of movement, something that
stirs in the firelight and gives men chills.
    Betty was all too aware of those amber eyes trailing her as
she mingled with friends—human friends—and spoke cordially with the
Never Weres who sponsored the station with their ads and donations.
The only reason she knew them was because Tango Lima Romeo did, and
she had to make nice with them.
    Some
Never Weres resented this discrimination, but before she'd become
the morning host, she had nurtured human relationships only. Betty
typically found it easy to avoid the Never Weres' glares, but this
time she felt his eyes on her, scrutinizing.
    Nerves. Had to be nerves. Her first Autumn Moon Carnival, and
she was attending it alone, on the dime of the station. Sparkling
champagne and pixie dust flowed freely amongst the mortals and
Betty saw that by midnight, this would be a scene which would make
Dionysus and the centaurs revel with joy. Drinking, mating, and
sirens singing to panpipes: Betty was not ready for
this.
    The
open meadow flooded with a silver glow from a giant moon suspended
in the stars above like a chandelier dangling overhead in a
ballroom brimming with people and Never Weres alike. On any given
day, an observer could tell the two groups apart, but on this
night, as they had on this anniversary for hundreds or thousands of
years, they blended one into the other.
    Pity
Betty was a woman, and greater pity that she worked to earn her
keep, or this night might have been fun. Ladies, fair and wrinkled
alike, flicked fans before their faces, and swirled lace skirts
with tight corsets and plumed or horned headdresses which matched
their masks. The men wore high breeches, slim waistcoats, and
capes, cloaks, or jackets. Betty felt too simple, too understated
in her black and red jacquard corset and tiered skirt, feathered
half-mask and coiled curls instead of headdress.
    Betty worked her way across the meadow. A server, one she
knew from the diner, held a tray laden with champagne, which she
took to simply hold rather than drink. Sponsors and a former intern
greeted her, and while she talked with them she noticed that
Clarkin leaned against a tree, watching her, not even half
listening to a voluptuous redhead.
    Then
their host, a centaur of the scholarly mould named Tetrametrius,
claimed his attention. For a few minutes, they talked, then
threaded through the dancers toward Betty.
    Betty knew Tetrametrius. Back when Tango Lima Romeo was
spearheading the All Equal Campaign, the centaur had been foremost
among the Never Weres to accept crystal ball advertising, and its
sister company the Alpha Bravo Charlie station. Satisfying client
needs had been Betty's first major project. It was then that she
had developed her manner and persona which transcended the barriers
and lead to her gradual ascension as a voice talent.
    Tetrametrius' projects had taken a month to establish, and
Betty had been in monthly or weekly meetings with him ever since
for years now. During the first summer, Betty came in constant
interaction with the centaur's rowdy clan and was not once
distracted by them, nor molested since they did respect a healthy
dose of Orange Five loaded into a pepper sprayer. By the end of a
year, her resourcefulness had