by Kat Colmer
I nodded.
“Take a seat.” Professor Scholler pointed to the two chairs at the front of his desk then remembered there were four of us. He fetched his own chair from behind his desk and looked around to find another.
Leo stopped him. “It’s fine. I’ll stand. I think Jonas really wants to hear what you might know about all this.”
“Yes, of course.” But the look the man gave me wasn’t promising. “After your visit the other day, I decided to do another review of the literature. As I’d previously said, there is no mention of anything resembling this curse. Nothing. Your father’s letter surfacing is…unusual.”
“Unusual?” I sank onto one of the chairs at his desk. Beth and Cora did, too. “I think it’s a little more than unusual, Professor. If this is some sort of prank, how come my father and I were sent the same voodoo letter?”
The prof rubbed the lines on his forehead. “I’m sorry, Jonas, but I don’t have an answer to that question.”
“Well, I’m hoping your colleague’s journals will.”
“Whose journals?” Leo asked.
“Dr. Cooper,” the professor said. “The man who worked on the Amoris Mortalis Spira scroll with me.” He perched on the edge of his desk and folded his arms, Dad’s letter dangling from one hand like a bad omen. “Shortly after the New York Times article was published, Richard—Dr. Cooper, that is—had a visitor. A young man in his midtwenties. That visit was the first of many over the next month or so. They’d meet for hours on end, always behind closed doors. Richard became secretive. Any work unrelated to the Amoris Mortalis Spira scroll began to suffer.
“It wasn’t long before the university put him on notice for his poor performance. When things didn’t improve, the dean asked him to take immediate leave. It was all painfully embarrassing, an academic of his standing losing his mind over something that was essentially a piece of historical fiction.” He stared down at my father’s letter still in his hand, momentarily drifting in his own thoughts. “I tried to contact him for a university reunion just last year, but he couldn’t be found. He’d just…disappeared. Maybe we shouldn’t have dismissed his ramblings so quickly.”
We waited for him to continue, but only silence bounced off the walls.
I couldn’t stand it. “Professor, the journals?”
Professor Scholler’s head snapped back up, his eyes refocusing. “Right, the journals.” He reached behind him for a stack of hardcover A4 notebooks on the desk. “After you called last night I did a little reading.” He patted the pile. “These here hold notes from Richard’s sessions with his mysterious visitor, who was supposedly an Eros Guardian, like you.” The professor tipped his chin in my direction. “Richard doesn’t name the young man in his notes. He only refers to him as ‘X.’ Apparently, X sought Richard out after he came across the New York Times article.”
Scholler handed me the topmost notebook on the stack. I opened it, flipped through the first few pages of handwritten notes, then stopped: Three times your lips a choice will have to make… On the following page was a rough drawing of the coils like the one remaining on my letter.
I swallowed the growing lump in my throat. “So what did this X person want with your colleague?”
“Help. According to Richard’s notes, X had squandered his three choices,” Scholler continued. “He claimed he was the firstborn of a Guardian’s sibling. But because both his parents were estranged from their families, they had no way of knowing about the curse and therefore could not explain Love’s Mortal Coil when X’s Guardian letter arrived.”
“I don’t understand,” Beth said. “The firstborn of a Guardian’s sibling? I thought one of the Guardian’s parents had to be a Guardian themselves?”
“According to the legend, not necessarily,” the prof said, which, by the look of her puckered brow, only confused Beth further.
“Think genetic carriers,” Cora said quietly beside me. “Imagine all of Amnon’s and Tamar’s descendants carry the Eros Guardian gene, but only the firstborn children show the trait, or in this case, live out the curse.” Cora glanced the prof’s way. “Am I right, Professor?”
He nodded. “That’s correct.”
Beth had almost lost the puckered look now. “So…if Aunt Helena had kids, her firstborn—”
“Would be a Guardian,” Cora finished for her. “Just like your firstborn would be, because you’d be carrying the gene. If this curse were real.”
If this curse were real? Beth and I exchanged a look. After finding Dad’s letter, I’d all but stopped fooling myself that this crazy-ass shit was just some stupid prank.
“Wait, if my dad was supposedly one of these Eros Guardians, why didn’t he warn me?”
Professor Scholler regarded me over the top of his glasses. “If you believe the notebooks, then he couldn’t. Not before your eighteenth birthday, not without putting you in grave danger.”
Next to me, Cora snorted. “Grave danger? We’re talking about a love curse here.” Cora reached over and took the notebook from me. “And if I know Jonas, he’ll never be in any danger of falling in love.”
I turned to throw her an unimpressed look, but my gaze snagged on the professor’s face.
For the first time that morning, Daniel Scholler’s academic confidence wavered and he’d paled beneath his glasses.
He cleared his throat. “There are two things the journals warn you to fear. The curse itself…”—the prof carefully adjusted his position on the edge of the desk—“and…how do I put this…the hell spawn who oversee it.”
“The hell spawn?” Cora blanched, the color leaching from her. I was surprised she didn’t bolt up off her chair and out the door. “First love curses and now hell spawn?”
I took a frazzled breath. “You’re losing us here, Professor.”
“Demons, Jonas. Known as Groth Maar. With one purpose only: to eradicate the Eros Guardian line.”
This time Cora did shoot off her chair, the notebook hanging limp in her hand. On instinct, I grabbed her wrist. Please. I can’t do this without you. As soon as the thought surfaced, I knew it was true; I needed her level head to help me deal with this shit.
Her gaze locked on mine. She must have seen the desperation in my eyes, because she sank down next to me again. But her frame stayed rigid, her spine fused to an invisible steel rod.
The professor continued. “According to Richard’s notes, the Groth Maar are demons given human form. Their task is to deliver the curse letter on the eve of the Eros Guardian’s eighteenth birthday, and before that, to ensure the Guardian hasn’t been forewarned of his or her fate.”
Cora scoffed. “That makes no sense.” Her voice was as steel-infused as her spine. “Why deliver the letter in the first place? Why warn Guardians if the aim is to snuff out their line? I mean, wouldn’t it make more sense to just let them waste their three chances? Less probability of them living happily ever after and producing Guardian sprogs that way.”
Damn good point. As usual, Cora’s logic was faultless.
“It seems Tamar was smarter than that,” Professor Scholler said with a tight smile. “She ensured a warning was part of the original bargain: a letter on the eve of the Guardian’s coming of age.”
“Why not before?” Beth asked, her voice too calm, too accepting, like the professor was clarifying a little known facet of history and not sprouting freaking demons-might-be-real shit. I breathed deep through my nose and dug my fingers into my thighs to stop shoving them into my hair.
“Richard’s notes explain it well.” The prof pulled the notebook from Cora’s stiff grasp, leafed through the pages, found the one he was after, and handed it back to her. “Start from the second paragraph.”
Cora glanced my way. I nodded. She read out loud, reluctantly:
“‘After today’s session with X, I have a better understanding of this curse and its demon
overseers. Tamar’s original bargain binds the Groth Maar to deliver a warning in the form of a letter on the eve of the Guardian’s coming of age. By today’s standards that translates to the eighteenth birthday. However, Eros Guardians are forbidden from warning their offspring about Love’s Mortal Coil, and the crushing rejection it may bring, until the letter arrives. When they finally deliver the letter, the Groth Maar count on the firstborn to squander their three choices due to disbelief, youthful rebellion, or flawed character. The only way Eros Guardians and their partners can guide their offspring before their eighteenth birthday is through their own deeds as examples of how to relate to one another, how to love deeply and selflessly, how to choose wisely. ‘Do as I do’ because they literally can’t say. X hasn’t spoken about the example set by his parents, but his three misguided choices lead me to believe it can’t have been very good. In any case, when his Guardian letter came, he dismissed it, wasting his three chances at love.
“‘I asked X what the consequences were if a Guardian forewarned their firstborn. He informed me it resulted in immediate relinquishing of the Guardian’s Protection Charm.’”
Cora stopped and looked up, a frown pulling at her still-pale brow. “What’s a Protection Charm?”
The professor nodded at the notebook. “Read on. The answer is coming.”
The creases on Cora’s forehead multiplied, but she continued reading:
“‘The Protection Charm is the Guardians’ only defense against Guardian genocide at the hands of the Groth Maar. It protects each Guardian, their chosen mate, and their firstborn, in that it mirrors any injury inflicted by a Groth Maar back onto the demon. If a Groth Maar strikes a Guardian, he himself feels the blow and its physical consequences. If he takes a Guardian’s life, he pays with his own in this realm. His human form dies and he is sent back to eternal torment in the fires of h—’”
“That’s it, I’m done.” Cora shoved the notebook at Beth and dug the heel of one hand against her eye. “This is insane.”
I twisted in my chair so I could look directly at her. “What more do you need to believe this?”
She glared back at me. “I’m trying, Jonas, but…all this demon crap is hard to swallow.”
“How do you think I feel? I’m the Eros Guardian. I get to gorge on the entire freak show of a demon banquet.” Panic crept into my outburst, softening the hard-set line of Cora’s mouth a fraction. Sure, this was difficult for her fact-driven, scientific brain to process, but she had to see it wasn’t a walk in the Botanical Gardens for me, either.
“Why do the Groth Maar want the Eros Guardian line to die out?” Beth’s infuriatingly calm voice again.
Scholler’s wary glance at Cora told me I wasn’t going to like his answer. “Because the end of the Eros Guardian line signals the end of love as we know it. At least the romantic kind.”
“Oh, this just keeps getting better.” Cora flung herself back against her chair and closed her eyes.
The end of love as we know it? Come on! I wondered where the bathroom was; my breakfast was in danger of making a reappearance.
“How does this X guy know so much about the Groth Maar anyway?” Beth asked. It was the type of reasoned question I expected from Cora, but the sour look on her face had me betting we wouldn’t get any more reasoned questions out of her this morning. Could be Beth felt she had to step up.
The professor pushed away from his desk and started pacing from wall to wall of the small office. Slow, long-legged steps. “According to the journals, the Groth Maar reveal themselves to Guardians once they squander their three choices, and it isn’t unusual for the demons to offer a newly ruined Guardian a bargain: the promise of power, wealth, or a few more days with a desired person—in exchange for their cooperation. Apparently, the Protection Charm prevents the Groth Maar from interfering with a Guardian and his offspring, but other Guardians aren’t restricted in this way. Imagine the irony—Groth Maar using Guardians to help extinguish their own line.”
I swallowed the bitter taste in my mouth. “And this X guy took the offered bargain?”
Professor Scholler nodded. “That’s how he knows so much about these demons. The journals mention X was required to live among the Groth Maar while in their service.”
“So what made X sell out?” Beth asked. “What did they offer him? Money? A beachfront apartment? Naked time with a Victoria’s Secret model?”
“Information,” was the prof’s reply. “Specifically, the name and whereabouts of a Guardian in X’s family.”
The sibling Guardian? The man or woman who should have explained everything to his parents so they could have explained it to him? “And how does your colleague, Richard, fit into the picture?” That part still didn’t make any sense to me.
The professor stopped his pacing and traced a finger along his jaw. “It seems X failed in his assigned task to keep a particular Guardian from choosing wisely. Consequently, the Groth Maar did not give him the information he wanted. When he saw the New York Times article, he hoped Richard might have some information on other Guardians.”
A snort beside me drew everyone’s gaze Cora’s way. “If I wanted to find someone, I’d hire a private investigator, not go looking for an ancient history professor.”
“That may be so.” Scholler perched on his desk again. “But desperation drives people to irrational behavior.”
“Like making pacts with the devil.” We all turned to look at Leo’s large frame leaning against one of the bookshelves. He’d been so quiet I’d forgotten he was there.
A dull ache behind my right eye was the first sign my brain was about to go into demon information overload. I reached forward and pulled one of the notebooks from the desk. “Can I borrow these? To read up on this stuff? There’s a lot to take in.” And I wanted to know exactly what I was dealing with.
The professor’s earlier frown returned. “I don’t think that’s a wise idea. It’s highly unlikely we’re dealing with devils and demons here, but it doesn’t hurt to be cautious.” He pulled the notebook from my hand. “Richard’s ramblings or not, the journals are the only link to these mysterious letters of yours. I’d prefer to keep them safe with me.”
Frustration tugged on my brow. Something in my expression must also have tugged the professor’s pity string. “I’ll tell you what, you can come back any time and study the notebooks here. Tomorrow isn’t any good, and I’ll be grading papers at home on Friday, so maybe next week sometime?”
Four days or more? I couldn’t wait that long. “Could we come see you at home on Friday instead?”
Professor Scholler’s face pinched. I didn’t blame him; I’d be a bit wary, too, if a near-stranger invited himself over to my place. But as he’d said earlier, this was an unusual situation.
He replaced the notebook on the pile behind him. “That’s a very unorthodox request—”
“Please.” I leaned forward and met his gaze head-on. “I need to know what I’m up against here, and you’re the only person that can help.”
The prof sighed. “Fine. I guess there’s no harm in proceeding at my place. And you’ll want to know all about the Groth Maar’s Book of Threads sooner rather than later.”
Bet he’s not talking about sewing instructions. I stood, my legs full of liquid lead. “So what do I do between now and Friday?”
“Carry on as before.” The prof said, as he led the way out of the room and along the hallway to the front door. “But…Jonas?” He placed a hand on my shoulder as I crossed the threshold. “Don’t go kissing anyone.” He gave me a shaky smile. “Just in case.”
Yeah, just in case.
It was only four thirty, but the after-work rush had already started at the BeanStop.
Stefan eyed me from the other end of the counter. “Jonas! Stop with frowning. You sour milk.”
I looked up and caught sight of my reflection in the stainle
ss steel top of the coffee machine. I couldn’t argue; my expression was filthy enough to curdle milk.
“Sorry. Got stuff on my mind.” Like the fact that I could be a fricking Eros Guardian with the fate of love in my hands. And here I thought God had no sense of humor.
“This something to do with girl from other day, da?” Stefan asked.
You could say that. “No.” I glared at my boss, then went back to tamping coffee grounds for the next order. Stefan examined me for a while longer, his pursed lips a sign he was debating whether or not to push the point. Salvation arrived in the form of a customer demanding the nosy Russian’s attention.
I slid the tamper into its port and watched the coffee pour into the waiting cup. Dirty brown, like my mood. I couldn’t blame Stefan; he wasn’t getting his money’s worth from me today. My mind wasn’t on small talk with customers. It was back at Daniel Scholler’s office, trying to make sense of everything he’d said.
Finding Dad’s letter last night and seeing those notebooks this morning made the reality of this crazy-ass situation increasingly more undeniable. In Leo’s words, this shit could be real. Love’s Mortal Coil could be reality. My fricking reality. I was at a point where I had to believe. That didn’t mean I had to like it.
“Dude, you okay?”
I looked up. Leo stood on the other side of the counter. I hadn’t seen him since he’d disappeared straight after our visit to the prof’s place this morning. Brow creased and eyes worried, he examined me. Seemed like I inspired the same facial expression in everyone today.
“I’m a lot of things, but okay isn’t one of them.”
Leo nodded and slid his hands into his jeans pockets. “Understandable.” He glanced at Stefan behind the till, then moved closer to the counter. “But when you strip it all back, I don’t see what the problem is.”
My mouth fell open. “Are you demented? We’re talking ancient curses and demon hellhounds here. There is definitely a problem.” I tried to keep my voice contained, but it carried. Stefan sent me one of his Russian spy looks from his end of the counter. So did the guy in the three-piece suit waiting for his coffee. I finished the order, passed it to the suit, then gave Leo a signal to follow me. We weaved our way through the café and out the back door.