Paranormal Magic (Shades of Prey Book 1)

by Margo Bond Collins

  Meanwhile, Katerina nibbled a piece of crispy bacon, and examined him silently. Neither one said a word. It was... Awkward. A morning after without the benefit of sex the night before. A damned shame, that.

  He took another swig of juice and cleared his throat as he returned the glass to the table. Katerina made eye contact with him and quirked a brow. He wasn't sure if she was simply curious about what he had to say or chastising him for interrupting the meal she finally began enjoying. She had stopped struggling to escape, but she wasn't happy with him. Her slight frown, in addition, revealed she still viewed the ordeal through skeptical eyes. Pan had seen it before with those who wouldn't accept the truth though they'd stood directly in front of him.

  Beating around the bush wasn't going to help his cause. Katerina needed to see it. She needed to observe the truth to accept it. As harsh as it was, Pan needed his true nature exposed to her in order to convince her she'd not dreamed it. Satyrs were very real, he was real.

  Despite what she saw last night, he'd been sheltering her by staying in human form this morning. He let go of his human appearance only enough to manifest his horns, feeling them curl from the sides of his head, the thick appendages impressive and large like a proud ram's.

  Katerina's narrowed her eyes into slits. From denial to anger? She had liked Peter. But Pan had taken away her option of normality when he stopped pretending to be an average human male. He would've probably gotten farther with her as a man than as himself. As a satyr. Pan scowled at the realization. Perfect human Peter was good enough, but monstrous Pan was not. Yet for some reason he didn't like the idea of deceiving her. So he wouldn't.

  "I guess it's high time I introduce myself. Properly this time."

  He waited for Katerina to comment, but she didn't. She merely watched him, observing, drinking in the scene as calmly as she did her orange juice. At least, he assumed that was the facade she attempted to put forward. Her hand shook when it lifted her glass.

  "Long ago, the humans accepted there were higher powers living among them. In ancient Greece, these beings were known as the Olympian gods, descendants of the Titans before them. I was once one of their own, though I did not reside with the rest of the pantheon in their kingdom. Instead, I chose the wilds of the Arcadian forests as my home. Being a nature deity, this wasn't considered odd by my people. So I lived in the wilderness, amusing myself with the nymphs and becoming a protector, of sorts, to the creatures of the forest. I became the patron god of herdsmen and shepherds, and Arcadia—and soon after, all of Greece—came to know me by my given name," he paused for the drama of it. "Which is Pan."

  Katerina's eyes widened slightly. Then she snorted and followed it with peals of laughter, reminiscent of his display when he'd told her she was working for Dionysus. She clutched her stomach with one hand and covered her mouth with the other in an attempt to contain herself. But she couldn't. It only made her start laughing anew when she'd open her eyes and see him there, a muscle twitching in his jaw.

  He began to understand her chagrin from his reaction the night before, but it didn't make him any less irritated now. This was different than learning your boss was a drunken god. He was trying to tell her things he'd not shared in since the Olympians became irrelevant outside of legend, and how did she handle these great revelations? Like he'd told her a grand joke. When she nearly toppled from her chair due the strength of her amusement, his pride ignited indignation.

  "What in the name of the gods is so funny?"

  "I'm s-sorry." More cackles. She breathed heavily. "I just can't believe you th-think you're a Greek god." Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she giggled more. "Suddenly your belief that Mr. Bach is Dionysus is making more sense. You're insane!"

  She was the very definition of infuriating. It didn't matter that Pan was aware the stress of the situation could be the real culprit behind her hysterical laughter. There was a very real chance she was not insulting him of her on volition, but it didn't matter. He didn't like being laughed at unless he had done something worthy of laughter. It was a trait ingrained in Olympian blood; offending a god had consequences, no matter how unintentional the slight had been. Pan would have to put Katerina in her place, but he wouldn't punish her. No, he had never been one of the truly brutal among his kind.

  Pan went full-on satyr, standing up and abandoning the illusion he'd decided to keep in order to protect her sensitive, human modesty. He didn't think she was aware he'd moved until she opened her eyes, panting from laughter, hunched over on the arm of the chair. Her face was level with his arousal—even her laughter could not diminish his need for her. In fact, her ability to do the opposite of what he'd expected only made him want her more.

  Katerina regained her composure and sat ramrod straight in her chair, staring ahead of her rather than at him. "I'm sorry," she muttered under her breath, wiping at the remnants of her tears of merriment.

  Pan invaded her space. His cockhead lightly brushed against her arm. Sadly, her sleeve prevented contact, but it was enough to make her visibly swallow in trepidation. Sex was not something he used for intimidation, but he could not think of any other way to bring her to heel after her hysterical laughter. Katerina was safe from him, but she needed to understand she was not the alpha wolf in the room.

  "I find it fascinating you still think I'm making things up, yet you have seen me in my true form. Is this something you see often? Can this be explained away with your science and research?" He lifted a leg and wiggled his cloven hoof. She flicked her gaze toward it and back away again.

  Katerina didn't move a muscle after that. She didn't even blink, though she still stared everywhere but at him. Her cheeks reddened more by the second, and her jaw was clenched. She had the nerve to be angry? After she'd laughed at him?

  "Look at me." He kneeled, grabbing her chin and gently forcing her to obey. "Back in ancient times, your laughter would have been considered an insult to the gods. I was never one who cared so much about what the humans thought, but even I have limits. I am one of the few who never took a mortal life by my own hand. But had I been, I'd have punished you severely for such disrespect. You'd do well to understand how lucky you are that you are in my care and not one of theirs. Dionysus would have abused you in ways your nightmares would not comprehend for such a slight. Remember that next time you wish to compare me to your precious Mr. Bach."

  She glared at him as he stood. "If you wave your dick in my face one more time, I swear to God, I will bite it off."

  Such fire! Pan controlled the urge to laugh at her boast and, leveling his face with hers. "I was cursed, along with twenty-three other men, over a misunderstanding with another god. He thought I had insulted him. And so I was punished. I realized what was about to occur as it happened. I even tried to fight it, prevent it. I attempted to counter the curse, but it backfired. Because I refused to live among the gods, I never quite got the full handle on my abilities, and I never regretted it more than in that moment. The curse affected every man present and resulted in the creation of the Satyroi race I mentioned last night. Despite how I look, I am not really a hybrid of man and beast."

  He took a few steps back and resumed the guise of the Jersey Devil. Wings, tail, and glowing red eyes amplified his horrid features, creating a truly demonic facade. "This," he said through sharp, gritted teeth, "is what I was meant to look like if the curse had struck full force. Because of my abilities, I can call it forward. Sometimes, when I lose control of my anger, it happens on its own."

  Katerina gasped, her horror apparent in her wide eyes. At least she was over the blatant denial.

  Pan returned to his human glamour, dressed in jeans. He wished he could remain in this form at all times, but he couldn't. The horns never really bothered him. The hairy, hoofed legs did. "Luckily for me, the horns and hooves aren't quite as extreme as the chaotic mixture of appendages belonging to the Jersey Devil. And I can still take a human form, thank the gods."

  He crossed his arms and spoke before she
could comment, "So before you find amusement in my plight, before you doubt all you have seen, know the reason this happened was because I made love to the wrong woman at the wrong time. A woman, who was promised to another. Because of my mistake, several people were forced to unjustly endure the consequences of my actions. And I have to live with that knowledge every damn day."

  Pan turned on his heel and stormed across the room. He slammed through the front doors as he headed into the open courtyard beyond them. Realizing he had no idea what he was doing, why he took Katerina, and what he would do with her, he went to the one place on the property that was sure to distract him from his newest problem by ambushing him with mistakes of his past. The truth was, no matter how badly he wanted Katerina, she would never have him. But he couldn't convince himself to let her go. For the first time in a very long time, Pan felt truly lost.

  Chapter 8

  Kat hesitated on the doorstep of the dilapidated house and spied on Peter—she couldn't accept his claims of being the god Pan—as he picked up debris, removing it from the marble fountain. She bit her lip and shifted from one foot to the other and exhaled in a huff. If Peter had wanted to harm her, he would have. He said as much himself. While he'd frightened her and left the Martinezes in an upheaval of distress, he hadn't injured anyone.

  Cindy and Rick have probably called the military in already.

  Basically, she had two options of survival since Peter had promised to catch her if she ran away, and she was sure he could, given his wings and unnatural abilities. The first option was to fight him and be uncooperative, which could lead to his giving up and leaving her alone with no food...or merely offing her when she irritated him one time too many. The second was to at least listen to what he had to say. Maybe if she was complaisant he would realize he was being idiotic and let her go.

  She could then get away or at least send someone to help him. Though she wasn't sure she wouldn't be the one committed to an institution if she told anyone about a man in the woods who was a satyr, a Greek god, and the legendary Jersey Devil all in one. Hell, just thinking it sounded insane.

  She didn't like the idea of giving in, but she wouldn't surrender and die. She'd survived a cougar attack, and if she could do that, she could survive playing house with a satyr...as long as he kept his pants on. First and foremost, she needed more information. He'd only given her the short version earlier. She still had questions, and she knew some of the answers he had wouldn't please her. Hiding from the truth was a cowardly approach, and Peter was clearly something supernatural in nature, even though the idea of ancient gods existing in real life was a concept she wasn't ready to accept. What did that mean about other religions? She was a Christian. She believed there was, and has always been, one true God. Was Pan's existence confirmation of a higher power, or did it contradict everything in her faith? Furthermore, if she accepted everything in the Bible, why could she not accept the idea of satyrs and curses?

  Maybe because blind faith is much easier than witnessing magic first hand.

  Kat fidgeted, completely conflicted about faith, about her circumstances, about everything. Peter wasn't paying attention to her, so if she sneaked around the back of the house she could easily make a break for it. Freedom was so close she could taste it, but it had a bitter taste.

  Kat had seen the look in his eyes and the hurt when she'd laughed. He was baring the truth of his existence to her, and anyone living with an affliction that had them walking on hooves like an animal rather than feet like a man had to be a bit sensitive about it.

  She wondered why he didn't stay in his human form all the time. He'd said it was a curse, so maybe holding the human appearance was difficult for him to maintain. Maybe he hadn't kidnapped her for nefarious purposes at all.

  Maybe he just needed a friend.

  With a deep breath, she closed her eyes in a silent prayer, and took a step forward. And then another. She fell into a steady gait that eventually brought her face-to-face with Peter, who paused as he bent to retrieve another handful of debris. Kat stood tall, hands clasped in front of her. Peter straightened as well and crossed his arms again, a stance he seemed to favor—he tended to fall back on the intimidating male posturing. Let him. Men liked to pretend they had the upper hand. It made them feel in control and balanced. She'd allow it...for a while. After she had her answers, she might knock him off-balance a bit with her inner smartass. He deserved it.

  "I'm not going to apologize for not taking you seriously before." She held up a hand when he parted his lips in preparation of rebuttal. "You kidnapped me, terrified my friends, and are currently jeopardizing my job. I have every right to be pissed off at you. I told you once that my fallback is sarcasm, and you know I'm a skeptic. So if you don't like it, you can take me to the nearest town. I'm out here right now for answers. You"—she pointed at him for emphasis—"are going to open up and let the words spill from you like viscera."

  Peter snorted and then motioned for Kat to take a seat on the edge of the fountain. She complied, and then rested her arms on her thighs. He pulled the panpipes he 'd played the night before out of his back pocket and sat them on the lip of the fountain as he joined her. She noted that he must be able to reclaim what was in his pockets before or after he shifted forms. Good trick.

  "Okay. So...you're the Jersey Devil, but also a satyr out of Greek mythology. I, um, guess that makes 'mythology' improper terminology, as it implies it isn't real..." Kat shook her head, refocusing on the topic. She was already rambling on. "And Peter isn't your real name."

  "No." He didn't specify if he was referring to her comment about mythology or his name. She chose to go with the second option and continued that aspect of the conversation. She wasn't quite ready for the mythology part as it made her world a scarier place than she wanted it to be.

  "As I told you before, my name is Pan."

  And the mythology part refused to go away. She wanted to deny it, to keep calling him Peter to keep her sanity.

  "But I thought Pan was, uh, is a demigod?" Knowing she wasn't handling the conversation well, she looked down at the glaringly obvious set of panpipes and recalled his quip about the origins of the word panic. He'd tried to hint it to her, but she'd ignored the signs. He had told her his name over the breakfast table and she'd laughed in his face. And her occupation was based on her ability to observe. Shameful.

  "More like god. Minus the demi. My father, you may have heard of Hermes, never told me who my mother was. Many women claimed they were she, but it was always a lie. Hermes took great pride in relating the story of my origin to the human storytellers, ensuring I was known as only half a god, as it protected the identity of the woman who birthed me, even from me. Unfortunately, the majority of the tales that survived were his embellishments." Smirking, he added, "He stopped that shit when I spread my own version where he wasn't my father. He didn't appreciate that very much."

  Of course. His father would be one of the most well-known figures in the tales of the ancient Greeks. One of the ones who had a whole freaking planet named after their Roman title. "I take it you two aren't close."

  "With that prick? Pfft." He looked appalled. "Last time I saw him was after the curse when he'd found nothing other than amusement in my plight. Sure, he'd tried to be fatherly at the time, but it was too little, too late."

  Daddy issues. Also noted. It always goes back to parent issues with men suffering from some ordeal. Violent men. Drunken men. Men with hooves for feet. Perhaps she should find a better group of men to classify him in because Peter...

  "Wait a second. Seriously?"

  Pan arched a brow. "Are you questioning whether I'm not really best friends with my asshole father or that he is, in fact, a prick?"

  "No! Your name." Kat almost smacked herself in the forehead for not seeing it before.

  "What about it?"

  She shot him her best unamused glare. "Peter. You told me your name was Peter, but your name is really Pan. Did you seriously roll with the name Pete
r Pan?"

  He flashed her a devastating grin befitting of Puck, and considering that comparison, she decided she wouldn't be surprised if the two were one in the same. But that smile... Her mouth went a bit dry. Damn the man, er, god/satyr/humanoid being was sexy.

  "Don't knock it. It's a classic. Besides, Barrie and I go way back. He got his inspiration for that book from me, you know."

  "Are you taking credit for a character that lives and behaves as an eternally immature child?"

  "You wound me. Peter Pan played one of these." He picked up the panpipes. "He was named after me, and he was pretty clever. He always outsmarted the pirates."

  "He also tried to attach his shadow to his foot using a bar of soap," Kat replied in a flat tone.

  "You're just a, what is the term the cool kids say these days? Hater."

  "Whatever. Is that the name you use if you have to go into a town or a city? Peter Pan?"