Wicked Misery (Miss Misery)

by Martin, Tracey

  “I don’t need others to suffer to feed it. I’m pretty damn miserable on my own, thanks, and in no small part because of you, at the moment.”

  “You can feed on your own suffering?” Olef asked.

  I glanced between Xander and Olef. They both wore surprised faces. “Yeah.”

  “Young preds can do that,” Olef said. “So I’ve read. They outgrow it.”

  “Well, I’m not a pred, and I’ve been doing it for the past ten years.” And what was a young pred anyway? I’d never seen a pred child in my life. Now, however, didn’t seem like a good time to ask.

  Xander fluffed again.

  “So are you turning me over to the Gryphons or not?”

  He frowned at Olef. “No. If the visions are correct and this addict is responsible, then turning you in would only distract the Gryphons. You’re more useful continuing to search along with them. But we should speak to them about this business. I’m getting sick of their attitude and treatment.”

  Funny. I could say the same thing.

  Olef scouted me a clear path to the T station, then I was too distracted keeping a watch for Gryphons to think more about his information, or even how much I longed to pluck Xander’s tail feathers out. Once on the train, I was too distracted by Lucen. I called his cellphone, but he didn’t answer. Either time.

  I was sweating from more than the heat by the time I got out in Shadowtown. Nonetheless, I forced my shaky, aching legs to race down the street to The Lair. No lights shone inside. I banged on the door, fear for my own hide beginning to take precedence over Lucen’s. What if he hadn’t made it back? Where would I go? I had no idea how to get in touch with Dezzi.

  “Up here.”

  I jumped. Gi stood half a story over my head in the doorway to Lucen’s apartment. I darted up the stairs and inside.

  Lucen lay on the sofa, and Dezzi sat next to him, doing something with his shirt. I caught my breath, staggered into the room and promptly collapsed to the floor.

  “Jess! What the hell happened to you?” Lucen’s voice was weak, but his tone harsh. He raised his right arm to beckon me over, and Dezzi smacked it.

  “Don’t move.” She frowned at me. The whites of her eyes practically glowed against the darkness of her skin. “Where did you get off to? This fool’s bleeding to death, but all he asks for is where did you go?”

  “Bleeding to death?” Try as I might to hide my shock, my voice quivered. I crawled over to the sofa. I’d thought Lucen’s black shirt was merely wet with sweat like mine, but no. Up close, I could see the red tinge. It was completely soaked in blood.

  Tears threatened my eyes, and I shut them. My fault. This was my fault. I froze as my guts disappeared into a black hole of denial. What had I done?

  “For sin’s sake, Dez, did you need to scare her like that?”

  The black hole vomited up my guts. So guilt wasn’t the emotion I was broadcasting most strongly. Fine, whatever. I had a reason to be afraid. I didn’t want to feel responsible for getting Lucen—or anyone else—killed. Especially not after I’d probably just gotten Steph arrested, as well. This was perfectly normal and merely showed what a good person I was. Still, what I wouldn’t give to shield my emotions. Nothing was sacred or private here, and my exposed fear made me feel naked. I despised how easily my human heart could be read.

  The sofa squeaked as Lucen tried sitting more upright. “I’m not dying, Jess. It’s only a nick on my arm.”

  “That bleeds that much?”

  “It’s the salamander fire-forged blade,” Dezzi said. “The wound won’t stop bleeding on its own. It could kill him.”

  “Eventually,” Gi added.

  I rubbed my eyes and inspected the damage. Lucen turned his arm for me. It wasn’t a large cut at all, maybe three inches long, but the blood pooled continuously. He used a soggy towel to sop some of it up.

  “Is there anything you can do?” Stupid question. There had to be something they could do. They wouldn’t sit around the rest of the day, waiting for Lucen to bleed out. Right? My throat closed at the thought, and I decided to not attempt any more speech for a bit.

  “I am doing all that can be done,” Dezzi said. “The salve has to brew first.”

  On cue, a timer went off in the kitchen, and Gi jumped up. “I’ll get it.”

  He returned a minute later, setting a bowl on the table that was filled with a whitish-blue paste.

  Dezzi handed Lucen a clean towel and told him to “Wipe.” With a knife, she stirred the salve. “We always have some prepared, but it cannot be activated until needed or it loses potency over time.”

  As was typical of most magic. Even sitting in a drawer my charms lost power.

  My muscles relaxed a touch.

  Dezzi spread a thick layer of paste on Lucen’s arm until the cut was covered. “You know the drill, or do I need to call Azria?” she asked him, wiping her hands.

  “Let it harden, then wrap in a bandage and leave it alone for thirteen hours,” Lucen said in monotone. “Yes, Mother, I remember.”

  Dezzi hit him with the towel. “And you.” She pointed a finger at me. “You never did say where you got to.”

  “I don’t know what happened. My speed charm was especially potent this time. When I ran, everything blurred.” I pulled my hair off my neck, realized it was still red and began running my fingers through it to remove the glamour. “A magus I know helped me hide.”

  “Helped you?” They all said it at once, the only variations in the amount of suspicion and disbelief in their voices.

  “He said he had a vision that I was innocent, and the city was going to burn.” I massaged my head. Ibuprofen? Charms? My kingdom for painkillers, magical or mundane. I leaned against the table to watch their faces as I dropped the bomb. “And then Xander showed up and told me the person we’re looking for is an addict.”

  My bomb bombed. Not so much as a gasp. The three satyrs exchanged glances, and Dezzi pursed her lips.

  “What?”

  “I don’t trust Xander,” Dezzi said. “If the magi are behind this, he has reason to lie.”

  “Even if they’re not,” Lucen added, “this is a real convenient way to spread more discord among us.”

  I shifted my aching legs. “Xander showed up to interrogate me, but he didn’t call the Gryphons. If he was trying to cover for his people, turning me in would buy him time and a lot of goodwill. Making stuff up doesn’t help him.”

  Gi scratched his head. “Maybe. But Xander can’t know what all the magi are up to. He’s got influence, but he’s no Dom. Magi society is loose, like humans.”

  “Yeah, but this information meshes with the evidence from the Gryphons. There was strong insoluble magic in the men’s bodies—that suggests one of your races was involved. And…” I tripped over my own words in my haste. My brain was working faster than my mouth, weaving stray strands of logic together. “And the guy we’re looking for is a huge fan of the Meat Matches. That’s a damn strong suggestion that he’s a fury addict.”

  Despite my pain, and the feeling that I could sleep for a week, my excitement grew. I didn’t blame the satyrs for wanting to discredit Xander—hell, saying I didn’t like him would be charitable—but everything fit. All my loose pieces were coming together.

  The salve on Lucen’s arm was drying from pale blue to white. He tapped it, but it hadn’t dried completely. “It’s true the men were decapitated. That could suggest a fury.”

  Dezzi played with her gold bracelets. Her face gave away nothing. “Decapitated as the cause of death, or decapitated after they died? It makes a difference.”

  “I’d have to double-check.”

  “Let us once more talk to this Pete person you obtained,” Dezzi said. “He may know if his partner is an addict and end our speculation.”

  I opened my mouth to object, and Dezzi held up a hand.

  “I do not want to venture down this path without real evidence, and Xander doesn’t count. He has his own agenda. If a fury—or any o
ther of our people—is behind these murders in any way, this all becomes more complicated. We’re not searching for an enemy whose strange preference for addicts is causing trouble. We are searching for a fury whose sole purpose is to start a war.”

  Lucen got up. “Give me a minute to change my shirt.”

  “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “To an interview at Devon’s.”

  “No, you are not.” Dezzi stuck her hands on her hips. “You lost a lot of blood. You will stay here and recover. Or make Jessica something for her pain if you must. She puts on a good face, but she probably can’t even stand.”

  Lucen dropped back to the couch, face fallen. “Yes, Mother.”

  Lucen made me a quick-and-dirty pain-relief tea then took a nap. Dezzi said someone would call if they learned anything useful, so I curled up on the sofa and checked my email with Lucen’s netbook. Then I also fell asleep. All that crazy running must have worn me out.

  I woke up in time for the evening news and turned up the volume as the cameras panned to the two helmet-headed studio anchors.

  “Our top story this evening concerns commotion down by The Feathers,” the male anchor said. “A woman who appeared to be human, according to eyewitness accounts, resisted arrest by the Angelic Order of the Gryphon. We go now to Samantha Reyes, who has the story.”

  “Shit.” Lucen yawned and stood by the TV. “Worthless camera phones. They got a good shot of you, didn’t they?”

  “Yeah. Wonderful. Good thing I didn’t look like me. Turn it off? I don’t want to hear any more.” I stretched and peeled myself off the sofa. “I need food—real food for a change. And I can’t believe nothing’s going on with Scumbag yet. Devon had him leave a message a day ago. Why hasn’t his partner called back? Why hasn’t Dezzi called?”

  “Patience, little siren. I talked to Dezzi. Pete claims he’s never seen his partner hanging around a fury or anyone else, and Devon had Pete leave another message this morning. Let’s eat, and you can tell me what your friend thought so urgent that it was worth almost getting arrested earlier.” He got down Sweetpea’s harness. “I’ve got to take him for a walk first.”

  “I’ll attack your kitchen. I thought I saw some chicken in your freezer.”

  “What you find, you may eat.”

  I also found some rice, broccoli, garlic and feta cheese. Thank dragons preds didn’t eat the same revolting stuff that magi did. I had the rice cooking and everything else in the oven by the time Lucen returned, and was practically gnawing on my fingers I was so hungry. He stuck Sweetpea back in the cage and set a bottle of syrah on the table.

  “Raiding your inventory?”

  “It’s not as if I can sell it at the moment.” He uncorked the bottle and poured two glasses. “Dinner smells good. So what did Steph say?”

  We spent dinner discussing the files, but with only my name and “Philadelphia” to go on, our speculation was pretty, well, speculative. I’d only been to Philadelphia the one time for that Gryphon summer academy, and I’d had the flu for part of it. If anything truly interesting had happened then, I’d missed it while confined to my bed.

  While we cleaned up, conversation turned to the possibility of a fury being behind the murders. I could totally buy the idea in theory. Furies, after all, fed on anger, and as a result they started fights for fun all the time. But a fight of this magnitude? A fight that could destroy their city? The satyrs’ doubts crept into my head when I thought too deeply about it.

  “Why?” I hung up the dishtowel. “Why would a fury do something like this? Why would any pred want to do this?”

  “You have to get over the idea that all our races are alike,” Lucen said. “And furies are the least like any of us. I don’t think like one, and I’m not completely convinced they’re responsible.”

  “Humor me. You know them better than I do. I’m looking for theories.”

  Lucen ran his fingers through his hair and shrugged. “Furies work their power on humans by inducing rage, but that’s merely a tool for them. They thrive on fear and violence. Chaos, really—unlike the rest of us. So this could be the work of a single, deranged fury, or it could be something politically worse.”

  “Such as?” I crossed my arms.

  “I hate to think. A war would generate a huge amount of power, and precisely the sort furies can channel and use best. That’s the big reason why Dezzi wants to be cautious. This whole thing could be somewhat random, or someone could be up to some really bad shit that requires a ton of magic. Either way, simply pounding on their Dom’s door and demanding answers is the last thing that’s going to help.”

  “Peachy.”

  Lucen refilled my wineglass. “Exactly. So let’s hope Xander’s lying. Meanwhile, drink up now while you can.”

  And I’d thought my life couldn’t get any more screwed up.

  “You know,” I said, inhaling the scent of the wine, “I’ve never even told my mother about my gift. I never told my friends except for Steph, and she only knows because she was there at the time my gift emerged. Strangers—preds and magi—know more about my secrets than the people who are supposed to care about me. I’ve never grown up enough to face them and tell them the truth.”

  “What do you think the Gryphons would do if they knew?” Lucen asked, following me into the living room.

  I swallowed some wine, but it stuck to my throat going down. “I don’t know. I’ve thought so long about it too. Four or five years ago I asked Bridget—what would you do if you found a human with a satyr’s gift, a human that could feed off suffering and magically compel others?”

  “What did she say?”

  “She laughed and said it wasn’t possible.”

  Lucen set his glass down and sat near me, his face dark. I waited for him to say something, but he just rubbed his bandaged arm. Sweetpea snorted smoke in his sleep.

  It hit me then. “They’re going to find out, aren’t they? I might as well have called them about Pete yesterday. I can’t hide for much longer. Whether we catch the killer, or we help them catch the killer, or whatever happens, the truth is going to come out. He’ll confess, or I’ll have to go to court, or they’re going to get their damn blood sample from me somehow. But I’m not going to be able to hide this any longer. For the… I hit a Gryphon with a chair today! I’m more screwed than one of your addicts.”

  I slumped off the sofa, and my butt hit the floor with a thud. Dull pain flew up my back. Add that to my despair and every pred in a ten-mile radius probably knew I was having a bad night. No wonder Lucen wasn’t touching his wine. I provided enough of a buzz.

  “Little siren…”

  “You mean stupid, dead woman.”

  “Jessica, it won’t be the end of the world. Hitting that Gryphon with a chair was not in your best interest, but it was in mine, so I appreciate it. But so what if the Gryphons decide you can’t be trusted among humans anymore? You’ll live among us. You see we’re not so bad.”

  I twisted around so I could laugh in his face. “Yeah right. Except when you’re all trying to turn me into an addict. From my perspective, that’s plenty bad, thanks.”

  “Has anyone tried to addict you yet?”

  “Not yet, but Dezzi’s counting on my help. When she’s done with me, any of you could.”

  “And I’ve known you for ten years. If I wanted to addict you, I’d have done it. Don’t you think?”

  Actually, no. I didn’t know what to think about that. Never had. I should have kept my mouth shut, but fear made me angry. “No. I don’t know all the details about addictions. For all I know you’re waiting for the right time. For one of your addicts to die or something.”

  “You know as well as I do that I could cut one or all of them loose at any time. It’s not a question of not being able to handle one more.”

  “So why wait? You could break my will just like that.” I snapped my fingers. Brilliant, Jess. Just challenge him to do it, why don’t you?

  “Do you think I�
�d enjoy that?”

  “I know you would.” Oh yeah, I was earning a Ph.D. in stupidity tonight.

  “You’re right. I would.” Lucen scowled and flopped back on the sofa.

  I held my breath. Maybe I’d gotten lucky and my outburst wouldn’t get me in trouble, after all. Strange, but I was almost sad about that. I’d primed for a fight. I had anger to expel.

  Then Lucen sat up, the scowl gone and replaced by a devious intensity. My stomach twisted. Okay, perhaps a fight hadn’t been a good idea. And I hadn’t gotten lucky. But it was too late now.

  “Actually I’m far more insidious than you give me credit for. Your gift was cursed. My magic is inherent in my nature. You can’t compete, and therefore can’t really comprehend what I’m about. But, you see, being evil is a lot like sex. The release is fantastic, but the release is fleeting. It’s the buildup to the release that’s so sweet and lasting. Once I break you, it’s over. Done. But this way I can toy with you for a while, build your fear, prolong the anticipation—ten years so far—and savor the possibility that one day I’ll be too tempted not to finish you off.” He reached toward me, and I stiffened. “What do you think now?”

  His fingers brushed my hair. My blood raced, but my breathing stopped. I couldn’t move.

  Lucen pressed in closer, and his breath coated my ear like honey. “I haven’t touched you in ten years, little siren. Ten years because you simply asked me not to. What…” He tugged off the band around the bottom of my braid. “Are.” Started undoing the twist. “You.” I wanted to tell him to stop, but I was paralyzed. “Afraid of?”

  The last of the braid came apart in his hands. I shivered, breaking the paralysis. “The potential.”

  I closed my eyes, wondering what I meant. The potential for him to break me? For me to lose myself and become emotionally attached? For my humanity to drain away? I didn’t know. I didn’t even know whether I should take that speech of his seriously.