Wicked Misery (Miss Misery)

by Martin, Tracey

Lucen’s hands were on my shoulders now, and my ability to think clearly was fading. “I would never hurt you, little siren. I promise.”

  I wanted to believe him, always had, but it seemed suicidal. All the promises in the world didn’t change what he was. He’d practically said as much me to the other day. He was what he was. He did what satyrs—what preds—did. He enjoyed it, and he could do it at any time. Letting him touch me was like baiting a lion. The best animal trainers could get away with it for a while, but occasionally their beasts turned on them.

  Lucen’s cellphone rang in the kitchen. Saved by the bell, or the ringtone, rather.

  It rang again, and he made no move to get up.

  “Aren’t you…?”

  “This is more important.” He moved closer, and his knees pressed into my back.

  “But it could be Dezzi with information.”

  “I doubt it’s urgent. She’ll leave a message. Jess.” He ran his fingers through my hair, lifted it off my neck. The phone made a last desperate plea for attention and went silent.

  Crap. Now what?

  Every bit of tension from where Lucen’s fingers played with my hair slid from my scalp down into my groin. Each muscle tensed with anticipation. Stop it, I wanted to say, but it was impossible. Even my mouth was too enthralled by his attention. “Why are you doing this?”

  “I want you to trust me, little siren, but you won’t. You came to me on Monday because you felt you had no choice. You didn’t come to me because you trusted me, or because you thought I’d help you.”

  “That’s not—” Well, it was a little true.

  “Please, Jess. I can read you better than you read yourself, because you hide things from yourself and you can’t hide them from me. But it’s not a good idea. Don’t you see? You were right when you said nothing can be the same again. And that means you’re going to need to trust someone, and you don’t.”

  “So you’re trying to earn my trust by breaking it?” But my body didn’t care how warped Lucen’s logic was. My will was cracking.

  “I’ve tried to earn your trust for ten years by not touching you. It hasn’t worked.” He shifted behind me, and I was now trapped between his knees. “So maybe what I need to do is to touch you and prove to you nothing bad will happen.”

  But I don’t want you to touch me! Except the words couldn’t take shape in my mouth, and they weren’t entirely true. I did want his touch, so badly my body burned. My will had given up trying to protest. It spent all its power instead trying to render me immobile, prevent me from squirming from the building erotic energy inside.

  He rested one finger against the base of my neck, and my resistance crumpled. A soft breath escaped my lips. Let him prove it or not. My life was never going back to normal. And it would be so much easier to give in. To let him give my desires everything I denied them. To let him protect me from the Gryphons. From other preds. There was so very little to lose anymore.

  I was on the sofa before I knew what I’d done. Breathing had returned in sharp, staccato notes out of sync with my trembling. My mouth landed on his with all the force of ten years of repressed longing. Lucen’s lips were so hot, yet soft and gentle. I was the more insistent one, begging with him for more. He held back, teasing me, running his tongue over my mouth. He was going to control me, push me back, stoke my desire until I broke down and cried. Just like he did with his addicts.

  I acknowledged the thought and shoved it away. I didn’t want to think, only to feel. Give in and get it over with. My body had fought to suppress these cravings too long.

  He slid a hand under my shirt, and I struggled to take his off. He obliged and flattened me against the sofa in return. My eyes lingered over his bandage for a second, bringing back thoughts of more important things—Pete, Olef’s vision, a feeling of a lack of progress. But these worries slipped through my mind as ethereal as a sprite.

  Lucen pulled his lips away, leaving me gasping for air. My right arm was pinned between him and the sofa back. I squeezed his shoulder as he draped kisses from my chin down my throat. My skin erupted in tingles. He climbed higher onto his knees, crawling forward. I ran my left hand down his torso until I found his jeans button. The memory of him standing in the hallway, hard and gleaming with sweat, urged me on, but I found it so difficult to concentrate on anything but the warm, sticky sensations he was awakening.

  Finally, I defeated the button, vanquished the zipper and wormed my hand through the opening. His sudden gasp left me moaning. Lucen had made no move to help me before, but now he kicked his pants off the rest of the way. Yet he didn’t try to remove a single piece of my clothing.

  Didn’t he want to see me naked? Why had he made such a big deal about touching me if now he didn’t want to? Had he been screwing with my mind?

  “Jess, relax.” He kissed both my cheeks and wrapped his arms around me.

  I closed my eyes and buried my face against his skin. His embrace was sweet and tender, and completely at odds with the cinnamon-tinged perfume of his magic. Waves of longing racked my body. All my fantasies of tracing the contours of his muscles with my fingers and running my lips over every inch of his skin fell aside. The magic suffocated me. I had no patience for any of it. I only needed him inside me, satisfying these desperate cravings. His erection pressed into me, and I shivered with unfulfilled desire. I no longer knew where my desires ended and his magic began.

  Maybe I’d never known. How much did I actually want him, and how much was the way his pheromones riled up my hormones? How much of my lust was genuine because he looked so damn good, and how much was his influence? How could I ever truly say yes to him if I had no power to say no when he got close?

  Anger churned in my gut. It wasn’t fair. Why couldn’t I answer those questions? Why couldn’t I trust either of us?

  “Jess, calm down.” He bit my lips lightly.

  Any ability to consider the questions was dissolving from my grasp. Fueled by my frustration, I reached down into the depths of my soul and yanked on the last vestiges of my will.

  Lucen’s mouth pressed down on mine again, and I turned away even as my body arched to meet his. “Stop.”

  He exhaled a long breath. I dared open my eyes and peek at him. His head hung limp, his face disappointed. The rest of him hovered over me, ready and eager to please. I closed my eyes again as temptation threatened to destroy my resolve.

  Yeah, I was aware of the absurdity. I’d torn his clothes off, but now I was asking him to stop. It probably wasn’t very nice of me.

  We lay that way for a couple more minutes, him not quite touching me, me unsure how to explain myself.

  Finally, he shifted. “I can’t do anything to help you, can I?”

  A lump bubbled up in my throat, and I shook my head. “It’s my problem. I’m sorry.”

  He kissed my forehead. “Last time before I become the leper again.” He pried himself off me and put on his pants.

  “You know that’s not it.” He didn’t answer, so I sat up. “I want to trust you, really, but the fact is you can hurt me. Easily. Badly.”

  “Just because someone can do something, doesn’t mean they will.”

  “No, but it means I have a right to be wary.”

  “So you think.”

  “And with your magic, I can’t tell what’s me and what’s you. How do I know what I want when your power forces me to want you?”

  Lucen pulled his shirt on. “I’ve never used magic to seduce you.”

  “You don’t exactly have to try, do you?”

  He chewed his lips like he was debating an answer when the phone rang again. I sank into the sofa in relief as he stormed into the kitchen. Every inch of me ached with unfulfilled desire, but even worse was the hollowness inside. For the second time today, repressed tears burnt my eyes. I must have ruined everything.

  As much as I liked to pretend I was strong and emotionally stable, the truth fell quite far of that. I was pathetic. Or perhaps preds and humans simply weren’t meant
to be anything but adversaries. Strangely, the idea didn’t cheer me up.

  I fixed my braid and strained to hear what was going on in the kitchen. Lucen wasn’t saying much into the phone, but I could hear the agitation in Devon’s voice. My gut tightened.

  “All right, all right. I was busy and didn’t hear the phone. I’m coming.”

  I was already on my feet as he darted in. “What?”

  “Get your knives and all your charms. I’m not leaving you alone here, so we’ve got to go. Something about five more dead addicts. Boston’s burning.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Not five minutes later, I’d stuck my dying strength and speed charms around my neck, and my knives into sheaths.

  Lucen had tucked a gun under his jacket, blades of varying lengths anywhere he could fit them, and had a couple charms of his own. I didn’t ask what they were for, just as I didn’t ask what everything he threw in his backpack was for.

  “Out the back door,” he said. “We’ll need to take my car. The T’s down in places, and there’ll be wounded.”

  From the parking lot behind his building, I could see a haze of crescent moon appearing in the twilight. Black and purple smoke billowed toward it. I sucked in a breath. Salamander fires. The creatures were born of lava, and obsidian was the only thing that could naturally contain them. Had that been the case, they’d have given off no smoke. So those plumes meant one thing—all hell was loose. Free-roaming salamanders would devour everything in their paths.

  “Olef said in his vision the skies turned purple. The salamanders destroyed the city. I thought there would be time.”

  Lucen started the engine. “Get in.”

  I wasn’t sure which I feared more—the fires or the icy way he said that. I hopped in the car and shut the door. “Where are we going?”

  “Keep your head low. There are scarves in the bag if you need to filter out some of the smoke.”

  “We’re driving into the fires?”

  “We’re on a rescue mission. This time, do try to stay by my side.”

  The lanes heading toward the fires were clear. I didn’t want to think what getting out would mean. Cars pressed bumper to bumper. Other humans fled on foot, bike and motorized scooters. As we approached, empty lanes gave way to barricades and flashing lights. Cops blocked any incoming traffic, trying to free up space for the evacuees, and EMTs had set up temporary way stations.

  Swearing, Lucen parked illegally away from the nearest cops, and we trudged against the tide on foot. We were a couple blocks from the fires and fortunate that the wind blew in the opposite direction. I had a scarf wrapped around my neck for when that changed.

  This close to the damage, I could hear the fires’ roar. Occasionally, between the trees and buildings, a flaming wisp of orange leapt into the air. Salamander teeth or tail or claws would find a target, and something new would burst ablaze. The size of them terrified me. A newly hatched salamander was less than an inch long. The more its fire consumed, the larger it grew. Even from a distance I could tell these salamander measured in feet, not inches.

  One of the cops yelled at Lucen and me to turn back, then caught sight of Lucen’s horns and promptly began ignoring us. Farther and farther in we pressed. The tide of evacuees diminished to nothing, and the smoke grew thick. Hot, dry air weighed on my lungs. I tied the scarf around my mouth and kept my head low.

  “Look out!”

  I turned and dodged just in time as a ragged, smoke-blackened sylph charged us from a side street. Lucen swung and backhanded her with the brunt of his arm. The sylph collapsed in the street, hacking. Dried blood coated her face, and much of her silver hair was singed.

  “You all right?” He pulled out his gun.

  Nodding, I did the same with my knives. “What happened?” The buildings were riddled with blast holes. Glass on the lower level windows had blown out in some places. Burns in the shape of five- and six-pointed stars blotted the street—curse scars.

  “What is happening, you mean. Devon didn’t say exactly what started it. Just that they were ambushed. Here.” He opened the bag and handed me several small silver spheres. “Don’t waste them, but use them if you need to.”

  I tucked the curse grenades in my pocket. Guess I’d been drafted to fight for the satyrs.

  The howl of the fires grew louder, the smoke thicker. My eyes and throat burned. From time to time, a salamander streaked by, setting whatever it encountered in its path on fire—discarded paper cups, oil pools, a sneaker. Lucen snared a small one in a bespelled net, but most were too fast for such measures. The flaming lizard clawed at the trap, furious that it couldn’t burn it. The last I saw before we turned the corner were its sharp teeth attempting to chew through the twine.

  In the distance came the sounds of exploding glass and screaming. They were the only signs of life. Sweat poured down my back. Lucen’s face flushed from the heat. Every noise had me jumping, positioning my knives for another attack. Lucen wasn’t quite as jumpy, but I couldn’t help but notice that the closer we got to the action, the closer he stood to me. My hand itched to take his for reassurance, and I cursed myself. I needed my hands free for defense, just like he needed his. Besides, how pathetic was I to want his touch after everything that had happened earlier?

  Screeching from above finally got my brain to shut up about the incident in his living room. Three large red birds aimed our way. I did a double take. “That’s not…?”

  “Magi,” Lucen shouted, confirming that I wasn’t imagining it. “Get to cover!”

  My speed charm powered my legs beyond the limits of my pain. My muscles wailed from the abuse, but the birds’ war cry kept them moving. In falcon form, the magi flew at neck-breaking speed, easily as fast as any hawk or eagle.

  “Over there!” I sprinted for the relative cover of a still-intact awning.

  “Not going to make it. Hit the ground!”

  I ignored him, willing my feet faster. My lungs shrieked. Too much smoke, too little oxygen.

  “I said now!”

  Lucen’s hand hit my back. I stumbled, knees smacking the street and my knives clattering. A strong wind blew over me, and I screamed. Hair ripped from my scalp as I spun around. Lucen’s sword sliced the magus’s head clean off, and the chunk of my hair in its talons fell loose.

  A distant part of my brain gaped in horror—Lucen had killed someone. That wasn’t a bird. That was a person. But I had no time for wallowing in shock. The magus’s two companions circled around, rage in their every piercing cry. I scrambled for my knives as they both swooped down on Lucen at once.

  The flat of his sword smacked the first and it went sailing, but the second sunk its talons into the back of Lucen’s head. He fell to his knees and dropped his sword as he tried to beat it off.

  My fingers wrapped around the knife hilts, and I charged. The first magus had shaken its disorientation, and it dove at me. Instinctively, I covered my eyes with my arm, and its sharp nails tore through my skin. My arm exploded in fire-like pain. Grunting, I flailed my arm about, hoping to whack the bird against the pavement, but it released me in time to fly off.

  “Let it go,” I yelled at Lucen, who was fighting with the bird on his neck. It was having a hard time getting to him because of his leather coat. “Stop a second!” I couldn’t stab at the bird with his hands there.

  But by the time he acknowledged my yelling, the other magus had readied for me again. I didn’t wait for it to get closer. With my left arm bleeding uselessly at my side, I dug out a curse from my pocket. Holding it between my teeth and my hand, I twisted the two parts of the sphere until they clicked, allowing the ingredients inside to mingle and activate the magic. Then I prayed my aim was true and threw it.

  The curse hit the magus in the wing. Foul-smelling smoke filled the air, and with a strangled cry, the magus dropped to the ground, transformed into his humanoid form. Black dust settled on him. He twitched once and fell still.

  The magus on Lucen shrieked. In its distract
ion, it must have loosened its grip because Lucen managed to pry it off. The falcon clawed at him until he let go, and Lucen grabbed for his sword. I readied my knives—well, knife since my left arm was useless—but the magus took off.

  Lucen lowered the blade and coughed. Blood flew from his lips.

  “Are you okay?” I jogged toward him.

  He wiped his mouth on his jacket and nodded. “Bag.” His voice was hoarse. I got the bag, and he produced a jar with some kind of ointment in it. “Arm.”

  I wiped the blood on my shirt as best I could and held it out. “You came prepared.”

  “I brought this stuff to treat any of our people who needed it.”

  The ointment was freezing, but it felt good. The rest of me was so warm, and my arm throbbed.

  “Your neck.”

  “It’s not as bad as your arm.”

  “Liar.”

  He smiled and pulled his hair and collar out of the way so I could dab the stuff on him. As he stood, I looked toward the sky. The moon had disappeared. No stars showed. All was a smoky purple.

  I dropped my gaze, and it fell on the downed magus. The black dust coated him so that he looked more like a crow shifter than a falcon shifter. “Is he dead?” Please say no. Please, please say no. Logically, I knew the magus had attacked me. I had a right to fight back. But the largest creatures I’d ever killed were imps and mice. Nothing sentient. On top of everything else, I didn’t need that moral dilemma right now.

  As for the decapitated magus ten feet away, I couldn’t bring myself to look. Nor did I want to ponder how unconcerned Lucen was about killing him.

  “He’s knocked out for a bit, and the curse is anti-magic in general, so he’ll be incapable of shifting or flying until he gets it all off him.” Lucen put the backpack on.

  “What are magi doing here? Why would they attack us?”

  “Got me. Let’s keep going. We need to find Dezzi.”

  I stuck my left hand’s knife into its sheath since it was useless until my arm felt better. We headed deeper into the fire and the fighting. Flames whipped the sides of the buildings around us. This close to the salamanders, the smoke cleared, rising toward the sky, but the heat was almost unbearable. Gryphons raced about on foot and in trucks loaded with sprite-infested water for combating the salamanders. The two creatures were natural enemies. Regular water didn’t fare half as effectively.