Read The Golden Age of Death (A CALLIOPE REAPER-JONES NOVEL) for Free Online Page A

woman had no idea she was never going to get to sell anything.
    “Coming!” Jarvis called, as he neared the front entrance to the house. He couldn’t ever remember feeling this unsettled when he’d been in the service of Calliope’s father, the previous Death. True, her father’s Reign was nowhere near as fraught as the one Calliope had inherited, but still, it’d had its rough patches, too.
    But Calliope? Calliope was another story altogether. Jarvis was certain she’d been created just to thrust his well-structured existence into utter turmoil.
    Not that he didn’t love the girl like a daughter—which was an odd statement given the body he now possessed was that of a twentysomething hipster, clearly closer to Calliope’s age than to her father’s. He’d been born a faun, the progeny of an anonymous coupling at a Bacchanal, but during his time as Calliope’s Executive Assistant, he’d been killed and brought back to life, losing his older body and acquiring this newer, younger model in its place.
    It was an “almost” adequate exchange—the large, emaciated hipster frame for the tiny faun haunches and humanoid upper body—though he did miss his Tom Selleck–inspired mustache. To his extreme consternation, the body he now inhabited did not seem capable of growing anything but scruff.
    The doorbell chimed again and again, insisting that someone, somewhere acknowledge its existence.
    Jarvis turned the doorknob just as the last chime died away, throwing the wooden door wide open. To his surprise, the visitor on the other side was not the one he’d been expecting.
    Well, he’d anticipated this guest’s appearance, but he’d just assumed he would be the last to arrive because he was traveling the farthest.
    “Jarvis, where in God’s name is my girlfriend?” Daniel, the former Devil’s protégé and newly minted acting Steward of Hell, said as he stood on the front doorstep, looking anything but happy.
    He didn’t wait for an answer, just pushed past Jarvis and strode into the foyer.
    “She’s not here and I have no idea where she went,” Jarvis said, jogging behind Daniel, as the Steward of Hell made for the stairs, taking them two at a time in his haste to reach the second floor.
    “I don’t believe you. I think she told you to say that.”
    Jarvis shrugged, not that Daniel was paying any attention to him.
    “But I’m going to check her room just to make sure—”
    Daniel didn’t bother knocking, just pushed the door open and stepped inside.
    Then he got quiet.
    The room had been cleared out. No sheet-covered furniture like the rest of the house. Absolutely nothing had been left inside.
    Daniel turned around slowly, his brow furrowed, eyes demanding an answer to his unspoken question:
What the Hell?
    Jarvis sighed, leaning his bony shoulder against the wooden doorframe.
    “She’s gone—”
    “I see she’s gone,” Daniel interrupted, his ice blue eyes chilling. “Where?”
    Jarvis was prepared for this eventuality. He and Calliope had spoken about what he would say when Daniel and Clio and Noh arrived—and they would all be here soon enough.
    “Calliope has departed”—Daniel started to protest, but Jarvis held up his hand for silence, so he could finish. “And I don’t know where she intended to go, so it’s no good interrogating me. But she’s asked that you remain here until she returns.”
    Jarvis could almost hear Daniel grinding his teeth in frustration and he empathized with the other man’s situation—not knowing where someone you loved had gone could be frightening.
    “You don’t know where she is or you won’t tell me where she is?” Daniel pressed.
    Jarvis shook his head, his caterpillar eyebrows bunching together as Daniel paced back and forth in front of the bedroom door like a caged tiger.
    “I don’t know. Honestly, I don’t.”
    Jarvis felt sorry for Daniel and he felt sorry for himself, too. He hated being the gatekeeper when he didn’t agree with what