[M__M 03] Misery Loves Company Page 4

  Steph tugged on my sleeve. “Focus, girl.”

  “Yeah, sorry. But did you see he has a signed first edition of Pet Sematary in that case over there?”

  “My cousin always liked to collect things. It was Matchbox cars when we were kids.”

  “His taste improved.”

  Steph’s smile was thin and highlighted the cracks in her fading lipstick. “He paid a high price for all this shit.”

  In that, we were in agreement.

  Unsurprisingly, the kitchen was also enormous. We searched the cabinets for stuff to leave out on the center island, settling on cereal, some snack food and protein bars. By the sink, we left a glass of water.

  Forlornly, Steph added a banana to the stack of food. “This is the best we can do? Pathetic. I guess I’ll make some calls later. Maybe someone else can check in on him during the day while I’m at work.”

  “You’re a good cousin, especially considering you didn’t talk to him most of the last ten years.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Someone in my family needs to not be an asshole. Let’s get out of here. It’s depressing seeing so much money go to waste and knowing what was used to buy it all.”

  “Don’t knock Eric too hard. He’s a good writer. That alone might not have been enough to get him this.” I spread my arms wide. “But it’s not like he sold his soul for a winning Powerball ticket. He still had to put in a lot of work.”

  “True. I guess.” A sweet, vanilla sadness overtook her anger as Steph locked the heavy front door. Our footsteps sounded loud as we crossed the stone-paved driveway, but the night was louder. The insects chirped a lonely chorus. “Thanks, by the way. For helping. I’m sorry I snapped at you earlier. I’m just…”

  “Yeah, I know. No worries. But if you want to kiss and make up, you can drop me off at my new home.”

  Steph paused before shifting into gear. “In Shadowtown? That’s one hell of a make-up smooch.”

  On the way back to Boston I found a radio station that was playing Barry Manilow, and Steph and I belted out our best version of “Mandy”. Alas, our best was by no means good.

  Still, Steph was in better spirits by the time we got home, and she didn’t even whine about driving through Shadowtown. I took pity on her and let her drop me off on one of the main roads instead of at my building.

  Once I turned the corner, I caught sight of the sylph’s scissors flashing in the barbershop and decided I’d be happier seeking out Lucen than hanging out at my new, mostly bare home.

  Since it was Sunday, The Lair was closed. After dropping off my signed Eric Marshall book—now certain to fetch a very high price once word of his condition spread, and if I were crass enough to auction it off—I gave Lucen a call. I needed to know if he was unoccupied with…things.

  Addicts.

  It seemed no promises or vows to be a better satyr could kill the bitterness I felt about them or my unease about our relationship.

  Fortunately, Lucen picked up quickly, and I put those thoughts out of my head and strolled over. It was a short walk, and moving my legs felt good after being cooped up in a car.

  Shadowtown was more subdued than usual, but I wrote that off to it being a Sunday night. Preds didn’t like the weekends coming to a close any more than humans did. The few I saw out and about paid me little attention. The satyrs acknowledged me, the harpies and the goblins ignored me, the furies gave me strange glances, and the sylphs sneered. But none of them approached me or made any aggressive moves. That was a pleasant change where the sylphs were concerned, in particular.

  Between my showdown with the fury who’d framed me for murder a few weeks ago, and my takedown of the satyrs’ former number two last week, I was apparently building a bit of a rep. Although I was still considered defenseless human prey by most, I must not be considered defenseless enough to be worth the risk.

  Without needing to worry about pred aggression, I was able to keep a lookout for ghouls, which was more difficult than I’d have expected. It was as though my brain had wired itself not to notice them, to move past and look away rather than face the sadness of their plight. They crowded together in the shadows like wraiths. I’d catch them only as I passed, hollow eyes, sallow skin and greasy hair. Usually they clustered in small groups, though they acted like they didn’t notice each other’s presence.

  And this, if I were to be honest, was why I didn’t normally “see” them. The awfulness of their existence threatened to overwhelm me when I did. Worse than feeling sad, I felt helpless. Even if I could afford to feed and clothe and shelter each one, I could never give them back their old selves. All the years I’d journeyed into Shadowtown I’d turned away, letting the knowledge of their existence rub a thick callus over my heart until they became almost invisible. It wasn’t nice, but it was necessary.

  Tonight reminded me of why. I didn’t even know why I was studying them. Nothing I could see gave me any greater insight into their situation. There was nothing to help me help Eric. If Bridget was right, our only shot was finding the goblin who’d drained him and getting his soul back in time.

  But I guessed I’d needed the reminder of what I was up against and the cruelty of it to harden my resolve to return to the Gryphons. Because the satyr I was about to meet? He was so going to try to talk me out of it.

  Bracing myself, I knocked.

  A muffled voice came from behind the door. “You have a key, little siren. Use it!”

  I sighed and dug into my pocket for it.

  After closing the door behind me, I crossed the tiny entryway. To my left was Lucen’s kitchen. To my right, his living room. That’s where he was, flopped on the sofa with his bare feet resting on a table. Something was playing on his TV, but whatever it was, it wasn’t as distracting as his chest. He was shirtless and in jeans. Just the way I liked him best.

  He smiled at me as I stood in the doorway. “Did you forget you had a key, were you trying to make me move, or were you testing my ability to sense your presence at the door?”

  “None of the above. I was being polite and not barging in. Although I am a bit miffed that you couldn’t be bothered to get up for me. No respect.”

  He sprang with the more-than-human speed that all preds possessed. Muscular arms wrapped around me, and he picked me up and spun me around the living room. I shrieked.

  Laughing, Lucen set me down but didn’t let go, and I buried my face against him. He leaned forward and kissed my forehead. “God forbid the day I don’t get up for you, little siren.”

  I groaned. “That sounds like a bad pun.”

  “Are there any other kind?”

  “Fair point.” He loosened his grip around me enough that I could move, and I slid my arms around his waist. Mmm…freshly washed satyr. I could detect a faint scent of lemongrass soap intermingling with his cinnamon pheromones. Damn. I would never get tired of that scent. “You smell good. Bet you taste good too.” I tested that theory, first by licking the closest patch of skin then kissing my way across his pecs and slowly downward.

  His breaths quickened, but he let me continue for only a moment. Then he tugged me upright so he could kiss me. I melted into him, as he entwined his tongue with mine. “So what brings you here?”

  “I can’t get enough of you?”

  “That much we know. But something’s bothering you.”

  Ah, preds. You couldn’t hide anything around them. Well, not unless anything was something happy.

  I removed my arms from his waist because it was hard to concentrate while standing so close to him. As usual, my brain wanted to shut off and my body, well, it became very on in its place.

  I motioned toward the beer sitting on the table. “Got another?”

  Lucen obliged and retrieved one from the fridge. “So?”

  “So.” I drew out the word, settling on the sofa. Did I give him context first, or did I rip
off the metaphorical bandage and get on with it?

  Lucen raised an eyebrow.

  I ripped. It was more my style and totally what he would do to me. “I’m going back to work for the Gryphons.”

  Though he said nothing in return, the eyebrow remained raised, frozen on his face along with every other feature.

  When he didn’t so much as blink for a disturbingly long time, I figured context was now appropriate. “There was a magical attack on Steph’s cousin. You know, the guy whose book signing I went to earlier? It was a goblin. Steph is in a bad state, understandably, and she’s my best friend. She asked me to get involved, and so I am.”

  Slowly, the eyebrow lowered. Lucen took a long drink of beer and shut off the TV. “You couldn’t help without going back to the Gryphons?”

  “What happened is out of my league. This isn’t some soul-swapping case where I can go all vigilante.”

  If I had known Eric was an addict, I could have offered my services to him before this happened. But he was a prize-worthy soul, no doubt. It would probably have taken a lot more than the usual creeps I went after to get the goblin to relinquish him in a trade. “I need the Gryphons’ resources to do this, and besides, they were already involved.”

  I neglected to point out that I was the one who’d involved them. If it hadn’t been me, the paramedics would have done it eventually.

  “I see.” His tone didn’t leave me very confident of that.

  For Lucen, there would never be a way to see. To him, the Gryphons were the enemy and always had been. I supposed they were my enemy too these days, but it wasn’t the same. I hated them because of what they’d done to me. Lucen, and every other pred, hated them because they tried to keep preds in line. To make them actually obey the laws, both mundane and magical, rather than give lip service to them.

  Historically, neither side had bothered with laws. Preds and humans had been at war until only the last couple centuries. Then a peace agreement known as the London Accords had been drawn up. While a couple of centuries was a long time for most of us, preds lived long lives. Their memories were likely just as long, and the peace was uneasy at best.

  Sighing, Lucen ran his fingers through his hair. “After what they did to you, little siren, I can’t believe you’re willing to even walk into that building.”

  “Me neither, and I wouldn’t normally. But it’s Steph. She helped me commit a felony a few weeks ago to clear my name.”

  “Aren’t you even? Didn’t you once commit a felony for her?”

  I shrugged. Ten years ago, the night I’d met Steph, I’d gotten revenge—or justice, depending on your perspective—for her by trading away the souls of the two bullies who’d beaten her up.

  Was that a felony? There was no law specifically for soul-swapping, probably since I was the only known person to ever try it, but Olivia Lee had threatened to charge me with endangering humans for it. That was very much a felony. “Since I’ve never been charged with anything, there’s no legal precedent that says I’d have been convicted for endangerment. So no. But that’s what best friends do for each other. Commit felonies and work with the enemy.”

  “Then consider this is what your boyfriend does for you—try to talk you out of it.”

  It was my turn to raise an eyebrow. “Boyfriend?”

  And it was Lucen’s turn to shrug. There was almost something self-conscious in the gesture. Maybe it was my imagination, but it made my heart beat faster. “What would you call me?”

  Self-conscious myself, I reached for my bottle. “I’ve been thinking of you as my satyr-with-benefits.”

  Lucen choked on his swallow of beer. “That’s so cold. I don’t even get labeled a friend?”

  “I thought that part was obvious.”

  Friend. Frequent bedmate. Lover? Ugh, that sounded so cheesy. But boyfriend didn’t sit right with me. Boyfriend implied total commitment, something I wasn’t sure we could have since Lucen was always going to be sharing a part of himself with other people.

  I cleared my throat, hoping to change both topics of conversation. “So, were you hanging out here with your TV tonight? I hope I’m not interrupting any quality alone time since the point of me not crashing here any longer…” Was so I wouldn’t get uncomfortable when he had addicts over.

  So much for changing the topic.

  “You weren’t interrupting. I was working, but I can entertain you and do that at the same time.”

  “You sure?” I pushed my bottle away. “Because I wanted to talk about what happened, but if you’re busy, I can leave.”

  He grabbed my arm and pulled me closer. “I’m sure. It was just some satyr business. Not anything so important I couldn’t do it while watching TV.”

  I nestled my head against his shoulder, but my stomach twisted. Was that some sort of euphemism for having an addict over? “Satyr business means what?”

  The question tumbled off my lips. Dragon shit on toast. I was supposed to be learning not to care. Instead I was acting like a jealous wife.

  Across the room, Lucen’s pet dragon, Sweetpea, snorted smoke. It had to be my imagination, but I could have sworn the scaly rat was laughing at my paranoia.

  Lucen shifted position, running a finger up and down my spine. In spite of my tension, I closed my eyes. “Stuff for the domus, little siren. Not what you were thinking.”

  Because, of course, he could tell. “Sorry. I’m trying to be okay with sharing you.”

  “But that’s the thing, Jess. You’re not sharing me.” He put his finger under my chin and lifted my head so I faced him. “This is what’s important. It’s your head on my shoulder. Feeling your heartbeat. The way your breath glides over my skin. The smell of your shampoo. It’s knowing you come to me to talk about important things, and me trying to help you. Even if you refuse to take my good advice.” He smiled wryly. “But it’s not sex. Sex is fun. It isn’t what’s important.”

  I swallowed, returned my head to his shoulder and tightened my hold on him. His words warmed me inside. Snuggled up against him, I felt safe and wanted and loved, although neither of us had yet to use that word. But I felt like I belonged. I was content.

  He was right too. Those were the things that were important. That emotional intimacy. There was no denying we’d had a connection like that for years, but I’d been afraid of indulging it. Yet I didn’t know if it was really enough. I didn’t know if I could let go of this need to have all of him to myself.

  And if I couldn’t? Would I lose the part I had too? How did a person learn to accept this situation? Was it possible? Just wanting to accept it was clearly not enough.

  Lucen had told me to sleep around with other people. Get it out of my system. Begin to see sex as no big deal. Why couldn’t I be one of those people for whom it was no big deal?

  I kissed the patch of skin beneath my lips. So warm. So tantalizing. “I know that’s what’s important. I do know it.”

  But I love you and I want you all to myself. I clamped my lips together. Thinking it was scary enough. Saying the words opened me up to too much possible pain in the future.

  Lucen stroked my hair. “I know you know it. This, little siren, is what I can’t have with anyone else. We’re a work in progress. Think how far we’ve come already.”

  “True. Two months ago I wouldn’t let you touch me.”

  “Exactly. And it only took ten years for you to get over that. Let’s hope it doesn’t take another ten for the next step.”

  “Yeah.” Although ten was preferable to never-going-to-happen.

  The hand running through my hair stopped, leaving me disappointed until he slid it under my shirt. “Don’t think I’m done trying to talk you out of the Gryphons, by the way.”

  I laughed once. “Yeah, I know that much too.”

  And that was okay because I understood it meant that he cared.

 
; Chapter Five

  I spared Lucen the agony of an alarm going off early by returning to my new place around one in the morning. After closing my cheap, hand-me-down drapes, I fell onto my futon and promptly stared at the ceiling for the rest of the night. Exhaustion be damned.

  I was alone. In a tiny apartment. In what should be a dangerous neighborhood.

  But mostly, I was alone. Funny how when I’d lived with roommates, I’d cherished those evenings when they would be gone and I had the place to myself. I could watch what I wanted, blast my music or take up the entire kitchen.

  Now I lay awake, contemplating my life choices. That was never a good thing to do, and it was an especially bad one at two…then three…then four in the morning. At that point, I might actually have fallen asleep long enough to dream because I woke up at nine with vague memories of fires, intense, skin-searing heat, and choking on smoke and blood. So much blood. Mine, I thought.

  Goose bumps broke out on my arms, despite the sweaty sheets that clung to me.

  Just a stress dream, I told myself. The result of it being the first night in an unfamiliar place after I watched Eric Marshall’s soul be devoured by an asshole goblin. Oh, and I was going back to the Gryphons today. Back to an organization that screwed up my life so I could be some kind of super warrior for them.

  Yup, stress, and no wonder. So fuck that anxiety. I needed coffee. Everything was easier to deal with when I was caffeinated.

  I dragged my butt into the shower and let the hot spray wash off the remnants of the nightmare. Once cleaned, fed and clothed, I only required a minor pep talk—think of Steph, remember Eric—to get over my reluctance and head over to Gryphon headquarters.

  Sometime around two thirty last night I’d realized I should call Olivia Lee and let her know I’d changed my mind and would be coming in today. Alas, the good director hadn’t answered, which would have been sweet revenge for the several mornings she’d woken me up with her damn calls. But instead I’d left her a voicemail.