Paranormal Magic (Shades of Prey Book 1)

by Margo Bond Collins

  Then the creature carried her past the fountain and into the dark shadow of some large structure looming ahead. She shoved against JD's chest, attempting to force the creature to drop her. It was futile as the monster retained its death grip.

  As JD carried her onward, the curtain of fog revealed the shape to be an old house. Not quite a mansion, it appeared to be an oversized two-story building in dire need of repair from what small amount of detail she could discern in the gloom. The closer the beast carried her, the more details she could make out. Windows were broken, and graffiti covered the walls. The beast paused on the front steps, giving Kat time to see THE DEVIL'S LAIR scrawled in vivid red letters over the front door, clearly visible even in the darkness. It might as well have read, "Abandon all hope ye who enter here." Nothing good could result in going inside.

  The door creaked open of its own accord. Like anything creepier had been necessary.

  "Please," Kat pleaded, drawing the Jersey Devil's crimson glowing eyes to hers. "Don't do this. Let me go. I won't tell anyone I saw you. I'll go home. I'll burn the footage we took. Just please, don't hurt me. Don't take me in there."

  JD glanced away from her and exhaled loudly. As Kat flirted with the possibility the creature had understood her and would maybe concede to her wishes, it took a step forward. Then another. Before her mind could fully register the hopelessness of her situation, they were inside. The door slammed behind them, and the world was bathed in darkness.

  Chapter 6

  The situation looked bad. Pan's arousal had calmed itself—mostly—but it was still at attention in her presence. He'd run off with her to a dark, secluded place. To somewhere no one could hear her scream. His home.

  It looked worse than bad.

  Pan carried Katerina up the grand staircase and swung a left on the landing, toward his bedroom. He'd bespelled the interior of the house to appear to humans as too hazardous for trespassing. He lifted the illusion for Katerina. While much of the inside really did need work done, it wasn't beyond suitable to live in. The outside appeared worse by far, but it kept squatters from taking up residence in his home while he was away. Aside from some graffiti and smashed windows, most trespassers stayed clear.

  Inside the bedroom was a king-size bed. Regrettably, it was a little dusty from disuse, so Pan turned and flapped a wing in its direction. Katerina sneezed as the dust went airborne before settling in new homes throughout the room. He could see well enough in the dark to catch the annoyed glare she cast his way. Better anger than fear, he supposed.

  He dropped his precious cargo onto the dark emerald comforter turned black by the lack of lighting. Pan had deposited her a little less delicately than he meant to, and she bounced upon impact, giving a faint squeak. Afterward, he lit the candles in the candelabra that rested on the dresser across from the bed with matches he retrieved from the top drawer. The glow illuminated the room, though the shadows in the corners seemed even more ominous due to the flickering flames.

  The room seemed bare, he supposed. Having learned a few style methods from the Spartans, there wasn't much in terms of decoration. He had a bed and a chest of drawers, mostly empty. There was a modest nightstand to the right of the bed, and the tall bookcase against the far wall was the only piece of furniture he really utilized at all. It was filled with several classics, contemporary novels, and books on the history and folklore of the ages. Pan was well-read, despite spending most of his time in the woods. It helped him acclimate to the times and cultures and to live a life other than his own for a brief time. Even the gods needed escapism, and he'd always been the black sheep of the family who hadn't wanted to live amongst the Olympians.

  He watched Katerina blink against the light before she scanned the room in open-mouthed wonderment at where the infamous Jersey Devil had brought her. Then an expression of horror washed over her face as she recalled her predicament. He could see the precise moment Katerina realized she was in his bedroom, in his bed, and what that could possibly mean for her. He hadn't considered that when he chose this room for her. If he'd been digging a hole in the dirt since he revealed himself to Katerina, Rick, and Cindy, he'd be six-feet deep and still digging.

  She leaped off the bed and attempted to rush past him to the hall. He stretched out his wings and let the eight-foot wingspan intimidate her, denying her passage. The room was barely big enough for him to pull such a stunt.

  This is getting old.

  She turned her back to him and slinked toward the bed, appearing so defeated that he actually felt like an ass. Pan reverted to his basic satyr form, but kept the wings. "Katerina, desist from the feeble escape attempts. You'll only exhaust yourself, and I'll just keep catching you and bringing you back here." He bit back a laugh as she nearly toppled over, spinning to face him.

  Katerina took in his familiar features and then those that were new to her—his horns, wings, and finally his hooves—and she sputtered. She rubbed her eyes and stared at his feet again before her gaze traveled upward, searching his face for an explanation. Pan wondered if she would find one there. Truthfully, with the gawking his satyr appearance brought out in people, he never expected much in the way of acceptance. Humans are too easily spooked.

  "P-Peter? You're the Jersey Devil? How is this even possible?" Katerina backed into the chest of drawers. It made an unattractive noise as it scooted a few inches behind her. She placed her hands on the object to steady it and herself.

  Pan shrugged. He willed away the wings and stepped toward her. Katerina scrambled to the bookshelf, grabbed a heavy hardback copy of Homer's The Odyssey, and wielded it like a weapon. "Stay right there." Katerina waved the book at him, using both hands to grasp it. She reminded him of a woman trying to scare a rodent away with a broom.

  Arms crossed, he stated, "That's an antique edition." Pages were already starting to deteriorate. In five to ten years, it would crumble, maybe sooner.

  Clearly he'd said the wrong thing because she hurled the book at him. He dodged it but didn't react in time to miss the brick titled Moby Dick as it followed. It struck him in the shoulder with a thump, and he laughed. Katerina seemed to take a personal affront to his amusement and began chucking literature at him more fervently.

  Pan took a few hits on his way to her, but he managed to snag her wrist and drag her away from her artillery supply. Katerina yanked her hand out of his grasp and bared her teeth. Feisty wench.

  "Damn it, stop," he said through clenched teeth of his own. "I'm not going to harm you. Calm down."

  She punched him in the face. The impact a sudden flare of soreness that spread hotly from his cheek to his neck as his head whipped to the side.

  Katerina immediately cradled her hand against her chest and bit her lip. The punch hadn't really hurt him. It had shocked him, yet he understood what drove her to it. He'd abducted and toyed with her. He deserved to be the target of her fury.

  Katerina turned from him and sank onto the end of the bed, rubbing lightly at her knuckles. She didn't retain eye contact afterward, but she seemed to find the floorboards intriguing. "Could you please put on a pair of pants or something? If you aren't going to hurt me, I would assume you aren't planning on using...that." She finally looked back at him, gaze brushing over his penis before she looked away just as quickly.

  His cock appreciated any and all attention, and was so flattered by her quick peek, that it stirred. No matter that it wasn't the time for it. Pan observed the reddening of her cheeks. It wouldn't have been perceptible to a mortal's eye in the low lighting.

  Pan resumed his human glamour, sporting dark blue jeans, a black T-shirt, and no shoes.

  "What are you?" Katerina asked, eyes widening as his form changed.

  He could've answered her, but he wanted to lighten the mood. "That hurts. Here I thought we were upon an era where everyone was accepted for who and what they are."

  She glared.

  "Fine." He leaned back against the wall and re-crossed his arms. "I'm a satyr." He figured the go
d bit might be overkill if he started there. Anyone with knowledge of mythology could see his satyr form and come to terms with that far easier than they could handle that Olympians really existed. She'd think he was full of himself rather than believe he was an actual deity. Pan almost missed the good ole days where humans were honored by being in their presence.

  When she didn't reply to his revelation, he prodded, "Well?"

  "Sorry. You were speaking crazy. I had a hard time following."

  He glowered. "If you would like me to do another demonstration..." He knew his eyes started to glow red as though he were about to go full Jersey Devil on her.

  "No!" She cleared her throat. "Please, no. Sarcasm is my coping mechanism. I can't help myself."

  He calmed. "I forgive you. However, I'm aware you were a skeptic before this evening. While seeing is believing in your line of work, I can practically hear your mind churning out petty excuses to explain what you deem impossible. Let me assure you, there were no tricks of light, smoke, and mirrors, or being knocked out and dreaming it all. I am one of the Satyroi, an immortal race of satyrs, and I can amplify my appearance into that which has been commonly referred to as the Jersey Devil."

  "Immor...immortal?" Her voice cracked. "This is all too much." Katerina put her head in her hands as she leaned over her lap, attempting to curl into a ball. Her breaths came a bit heavier as she began hyperventilating. He inched toward her, wanting to help, but she held out her hand without lifting her head, motioning for him to stay put.

  "I can't deal with this right now."

  "I understand." Pan opened the top drawer of the chest and retrieved his panpipes. He could have manifested them easily, but some notion of normality would be better for the time being. "I've frightened and upset you, and for that I truly am sorry. I'm known to be impulsive and don't quite think things through as I should. It's my flaw."

  "Really? That's your flaw?" Katerina had glanced up when he'd opened the drawer. She eyed the panpipes warily. "What are you gonna do with that?"

  "This?" He held the pipes into the light. There were seven reed shoots, all different lengths in size, bound together with leather from shortest to tallest. "I am going to play you a lullaby. You grow weary and need to rest. Your mind will manage better after it has recovered from tonight."

  But he didn't play them yet. He frowned at her, still puzzled by her appearance in the Pine Barrens and his life. "You may have many questions, but then I do too. The most important being, why are you here?"

  "Gee. I don't know," she said flatly. "Maybe because my mother and my father got it on. The sperm found the egg, and voilà! Nine months later and you have me, rosy cherub cheeks and all."

  Pan instantly regretted ever wishing to meet someone who could be more of a smartass than himself—or worse, his father. Hermes infuriated even the most patient of men. Katerina had the same quick wit.

  "I meant, why are you in the Pine Barrens looking for the Jersey Devil?"

  "I told you the other day that I'm filming a documentary. Many a person has done it before. He...you...are kind of famous. Don't let it go to your head. By the way, do you kidnap every person who searches for proof of your existence? Is this how you welcome them?"

  "No. Only you received the joy of meeting me, but whoever sent you here suspected as much."

  "What are you talking about? I don't see how my being here means anyone has nefarious purposes other than entertaining viewers with the unknown." Katerina was breathing normally again, her panic dissolving into confusion and, if he wasn't mistaken, annoyance.

  "That may be true, but usually Greek wine is not a common preference shared by your average American cryptozoologist."

  Katerina huffed, and Pan half expected her to stomp a foot. She didn't though. "I'm not a cryptozoologist." She sniffed haughtily. "I'm a zoologist. No crypto prefix attached to it. I only happen to be doing a documentary on a cryptid... Wait...wine? This is about... Of course."

  She perked up as she thought about whatever had prompted her epiphany. "That is what must have set you off and sent you running. You saw the wine bottle and recognized it. What does it mean to you?"

  How charming. She attempted to turn the tables on him. Not happening, at least not yet. Pan wasn't revealing anything more about himself until he knew for sure if she was in on some grand scheme or not. "Nuh-uh. You get answers once I am satisfied with yours. Who gave you the wine?"

  "My boss sent it. He's some wealthy guy who randomly wanted me to do this documentary despite it being outside of my field." She frowned as her words registered to her own ears, and then she veered off the subject slightly. "I study big cats, not cryptids. I wouldn't have even taken this job if the money wasn't so good. Does my selling out for cash satisfy your curiosity?"

  "Maybe." He scratched at his chin. "Who hired you?" He wouldn't let her off the hook.

  "Does it really matter?"

  Pan considered her words. Where that particular wine is involved, yes. "It matters more than you know. If it is who I think it is, then your life could be in danger the longer you protect him by not telling me the truth."

  Her gaze sought answers from his expression, and Pan struggled to keep it blank. Katerina appeared affected by the softening of his tone and the meaning behind his words. Whatever she saw cross his face must have driven home the fact he needed to know that information. Not just to appease his curiosity but because her future depended on it. She couldn't escape him, and if she had any survival instincts at all, she'd cooperate.

  "His name is Dion Bach. I don't know much about him other than he's really rich and owns a powerful compa—um...what's so funny?"

  Pan sniggered. Then he cackled so hard he doubled over.

  "Of all...the...stupid...names!" He gasped for breath, sobered a little, and then fell into more guffaws, sliding to the floor, clasping his side with his free hand. "He's oh so...so subtle!"

  "Do you care to share with the class? Or should I just leave? Here, I'll see myself out." She ambled toward the hall without hesitation.

  Pan willed the door shut with a bang. He stood, relieved of his amusement. "You will do no such thing. I was overcome by the wonderful dramatic irony. He is such a blasted Greek. If you knew anything about him, the name is a dead giveaway."

  "The irony of what!"

  "Patience, woman." That only seemed to infuriate her more, so he quickly explained, "Greek wine. Dion. Bach. You didn't find a connection in this at all?"

  "Should I have?"

  He threw his hands up. "Dionysus! Bacchus! That mother fu—"

  "Whoa, whoa, whoa. Dionysus? As in the god of wine?"

  "Ding, ding! We have a winner. It's painfully obvious now, isn't it?" He grinned.

  "Actually it just took things from boatloads of crazy to delusionally insane in the matter of seconds. Remind me never to come back to Jersey."

  So she didn't believe the god of wine purposely sent her into the woods to find a satyr and wayward god that he hates with a passion.

  That's fair.

  "How is it irony?"

  Pan blinked. "What?"

  "If his name is obvious it wouldn't be irony."

  "Dramatic irony, like in a play. The audience knows that which the characters do not. Greeks used it all the time."

  Katerina didn't seem convinced. She muttered something under her breath about it not being ironic and he let it slide. Unfortunately, he was weighted down with the implications of Dionysus rigging a "documentary" on him and didn't have the energy to explain why a god would trouble himself or debate elements of literature and drama.

  Pan lifted the panpipes to his lips. Katerina glanced around with wide eyes, as though seeking another escape route. As he played his melody, her lids grew heavy.

  "Don't want. To...sleep," she murmured as she drifted off, breathing deeply.

  Pan played to her a while longer, enjoying the foreign sensation of making music for someone else and not because he was bored or needed them for sex. When he fi
nished his tune, he placed the pipes into his back pocket, untucked the covers from under Katerina, and drew them over her. He made sure she seemed comfortable against the pillow, and then he took the candelabra with him on his way out the door.

  Once he made his way back downstairs, he finally allowed himself to worry about the consequences to his actions. Katerina would need food and require use of the restroom which had been in disrepair for years. He would need to run out and snag supplies while she slept and begin renovating his house for company.