Paranormal Magic (Shades of Prey Book 1)

by Margo Bond Collins

  The loss of Silenus wouldn't upset anyone. The satyr had been useless for the most part, complaining constantly. But Pavlo, despite his dislike of Dion, had been useful and likable. A loss the others would surely feel, and damned if he didn't realize he was back to needing a personal assistant again. He'd worry about it later.

  Dion traversed through the upstairs corridor with its richly furnished carpeting and elaborate candelabras that left the smell of beeswax permeating in the air. The stairs were marble, padded with a red carpeted strip down the middle. The banister was solid gold. Why should he live in less than exquisite comfort and style because the doors to Olympus had shut so long ago? No, the Olympians were not slumbering. They hid away and mocked them all, Apollo especially. His death would be one of the first Dion saw to.

  The ground floor foyer displayed a huge, ceiling-to-floor portrait of himself—or rather a classical depiction that was fairly accurate that he'd taken a liking to. Many artistic interpretations amused Dion, especially the ones which portrayed him wearing a crown of grapes off the vine. As though he ever wore grapes in his hair. Humans had such imaginations.

  The formal dining room had a long, solid oak table which seated twenty diners easily. There were only nine men present. Except they weren't men, not anymore. They were all satyrs. The Boeotians. Not one among his guests knew Dion shared their curse. As far as anyone was concerned, the curse hadn't worked on him. The misdirection and display of his power kept them in check.

  The satyrs ceased conversing amongst themselves as he entered the room and took his place at the head of the table. His guests were dressed formally, as Dion always demanded for a seat at his table. And what a table it was!

  The cook had prepared a succulent meal of ham with several appetizing side dishes of vegetables and pastas. The mouthwatering aroma held a hint of spices and roasted meat. His stomach clenched in anticipation, even though he didn't have an appetite that demanded he consume food often. A smorgasbord was a thing to desire regardless.

  "Gentlemen," Dion began as a courtesy. The men at the table were not gentlemanly in the least, with the exception of Melancton perhaps. "I have gathered you here today because the Satyroi are on the brink of a crisis." He clasped his hands in front of him on the table, keeping his posture and doing his best to appear concerned when what he really wanted to do was tear into that baked ham.

  A few of the satyrs looked nervous while others seemed intrigued. Adonis appeared simply bored, his head leaning against his fist. Melancton displayed no reaction, which wasn't surprising.

  "It's come to my attention that Pan has murdered your brethren, Pavlo and Silenus." Dion took a sip of his wine as he let the news sink in. Melancton raised a brow. Dion negated his silent question with a tilt of his head. Perhaps Dion would give him Pavlo's old job to ensure he stayed quiet.

  A satyr with light brown hair and a crooked nose spoke up. "Why would Pan do that? I understand why he'd have a grudge against Silenus, but Pavlo?"

  "I wish I knew, Theron. I wish I knew. Syrinx was Pavlo's sister. Maybe he decided to take revenge on both of them for what happened. Or maybe he's finally snapped. No one's seen him in so long, it is quite possible he's gone insane from solitude."

  Theron contemplated it further. "What are we supposed to do about it?"

  "Punish him." Dion had to force himself not to smile. "Unfortunately, we cannot act on Pan without the syrinx or Hephaestusian steel. It is rumored Pan has such a weapon, but he has entrusted one of the Arcadians with the syrinx. We need the instrument to disarm him. Otherwise, he will pick us off, one by one." Luckily Silenus had never been fool enough to bring the weapon around the few times Dion insisted he be present, making the lie possible as it slid silkily off his tongue.

  He was pleased to see the reactions going in the direction he wanted. Looks of shock, horror, even disbelief met his gaze. Well, other than Melancton and his eternally blank expression. He disapproved though. That satyr was eternally too good for his own wellbeing. It almost made Dion regret doing what he had which played in Melancton being present for the curse. Almost.

  "Let's start our hunt with Pan's closest friend, as he was the most trusted of the Arcadians. Rumor has it he'd left Greece with the instrument, but I dismissed it, believing Pan would never hand such an item to a non-Olympian for safe keeping. Furthermore, after much research, I believe I know where Ariston is hiding." Dion watched Adonis from the corner of his eye. "I would like one of you to find out if he has the syrinx in his possession. I already have a strategy in motion to distract him. Through careful heredity tracking, I believe I've found a nymph."

  Having money in the present era meant resources. With the Internet and connections, anything could be tracked down if the time and money allowed. Unfortunately, Lily Anders was the only lead that panned out, and once he settled on a way to bring her into Bach Industries, it would be time to move onto phase two. Ariston was the strongest contender to have the syrinx. He and Pan were closer than Ariston was with his own brother, Adonis.

  Whispers erupted around the table. Eneas stood abruptly. "Why waste her on an Arcadian? Wouldn't it please you more to give her to one of us?" Several heads nodded, agreeing with his suggestion. Dion had expected the uproar. A nymph was their only hope of breaking the curse, and none had been found. If any of the Satyroi deserved a chance to be rewarded, it was his own followers. Not one of Pan's. But a beautiful woman, and one that promised freedom, was the best way to distract an enemy, and since he couldn't feel Katerina Silverton's life force coursing through his blood, he knew she'd not taken the ambrosia he'd left her. If she refused to drink it, she wouldn't be controllable, and was officially a lost cause. Of course, ambrosia wasn't guaranteed to work the way he'd intended. Apollo was only able to find someone he'd given blood to if they were outside in sunlight, just like anyone else he needed to locate. Served him right. If anything though, at least Katerina would keep Pan preoccupied and out of the way.

  "You haven't let me explain myself." Dion said patiently, "The nymph is merely to be a distraction. Dear gods, I don't mean for Ariston to keep her. A Satyr Moon is on the horizon, or it will be at the time this play goes into motion. The one to take on this duty may keep the nymph to himself when he's done, or give her to another if he desires."

  Adonis gulped down his wine, straightened up, and cleared his throat. "Ariston is my brother. I would like this task, sir."

  Around him, the Boeotians all started complaining at once. All of them wanted their curse removed, and Adonis had never been that friendly to them.

  Dion pretended to contemplate the offer even though he'd been counting on Adonis' cooperation. "I'm not sure if that's wise. What if your brother is hostile and you have to harm him?"

  "I harbor no feelings of love or compassion toward him. He brought this curse upon me, and I will never forgive him." Ariston was the reason Adonis had been present that night. Hatred would serve its purpose in completing the task.

  "Stay around this evening, Adonis. I will fill you in on the details, and we will begin to plan our course of action."

  Adonis nodded in acknowledgement.

  "On that note, let's eat." Dion smiled at his guests and stabbed a fork into a slice of pork.

  Chapter 20

  Kat was pregnant. She hadn't seen it coming, at least not anytime soon. She woke up in the bed she shared with Pan, dressed in a pair of pajama shorts and a tank top and glared at the ceiling. How long had he known and not told her? Masculine voices alerted her that Pan and Hermes were downstairs.

  With an exasperated huff, Kat kicked the covers away and pulled herself out of the bed. Her head was a bit foggy, but she managed. She padded quietly out the room and down the stairs where she found the two of them thick as thieves in the kitchen. Hermes waved at her from his perch on the island countertop, and Pan ceased pacing when he heard her approach.

  "Katerina." He bounded toward her. "Are you okay?"

  She brushed him off, eyeing Hermes warily. She
didn't know what to make of him as he sat on the edge of the counter, kicking his winged feet. "I'm fine. I was a bit shocked is all."

  Understatement.

  "Well, I'm glad you're awake," Hermes called from behind Pan. He lifted the bottle of ambrosia Dionysus had left and popped the cork. It struck the ceiling before landing on the floor with a barely audible thud.

  "Um...you might not want to drink that," Kat offered.

  "Don't worry. I know full well what this is." He examined the bottle in the light. "Ambrosia, literally the essence of eternal life. It is almost poetic that what gives eternal life isn't water from a mysterious fountain no one will ever find, a grail hidden by Templar knights, or a glass of the most delicious wine to ever pass one's lips, but blood itself. The very source of life within any being. I can understand how the sharing of immortal blood is a method of sharing immortality. It makes such perfect sense, it's almost painful. However, when things are so easy there is usually a reason."

  Hermes hopped off the counter and carried the bottle to the sink. He proceeded to pour Dionysus' blood down the drain. "Bottoms up."

  "What are you doing?" Kat gasped. Her eternity with Pan was being washed away before her eyes.

  "Oh, this? I am getting rid of Dionysus' blood. What does it look like? Trust me when I say I'm doing you a huge favor." He winked at her, flashing his dimples as he grinned mischievously. "All those who have become immortal by his blood have been put down. Violently."

  "But...I..." What could she say? She'd had some of his blood already, and she didn't want Pan to witness her die, which she would without the ambrosia. She could take Pan's blood, but she didn't want to be a vampire or zombie or whatever else could happen. Maybe Hermes didn't think those options were horrible. There was always the possibility he assumed she wanted to drink it just because it resulted in immortality. That she was using his son for personal gain.

  Pan wrapped his arms around Kat's stomach, pulling her against him. Comforting her, keeping her close. She needed his strength, his warmth to guide as well as anchor her.

  Hermes said, "My son is worried Dionysus plans to tie you to him for malicious purposes. He also told me you worried the blood may not be the wine god's at all. And since the world wouldn't welcome new vrykolakas or letum...or gods know what else it could have resulted in, it seems the best course of action is to avoid the what-if scenarios and find a new approach."

  "Like what?"

  Hermes rested the empty wine bottle on the counter. "Zeus is my father too. You could take of my blood, and both you and your unborn son will become immortal. Zeus has consulted the Fates in this. If you take from me, the ambrosia will work as it should."

  Everyone wanted her to drink their blood lately. Gross.

  "That all sounds very convenient." Kat always believed if something was too good to be true, it was. That was one of the factors keeping her from drinking Dionysus' blood sooner. She broke away from Pan's hold and pivoted so she could see them both as she spoke, "My baby's going to be a demigod." She had a hard time processing it. "He's not going to be born fully grown, is he? I've heard some pretty crazy birth stories about the Greek gods and goddesses. There's one where Aphrodite was the result of a castrated penis landing in sea foam."

  Hermes threw his head back and laughed. "That one was embellished to irritate Aphrodite. Kinda like I told everyone Pan's mother was different people to confuse them all. When really his mother was Hybris."

  Pan did a double take at Hermes while sputtering. "Excuse me? Did you say the goddess of excessive pride, arrogance, and just about every other terrible attribute known of man, is my mother?"

  Hermes was by his side in a flash and patted his shoulder. "But, hey...you didn't turn out so bad, did ya?" And in the lighting of the kitchen, it was remarkable how alike the two looked. They could be twins, other than the wings versus horns and what not. Well, and Hermes' face was slightly narrower. Pan was taller. Oh, God, I can't stop staring.

  Pan was at a total loss for words as he gawked at his father like Hermes had grown additional heads. Kat couldn't fault him. There was something a bit dumbfounding about learning important information from a passing comment. At least Pan didn't faint like I did.

  "I never heard of a goddess named Hubris." Kat frowned.

  "Hybris," Hermes corrected. "She's the goddess of hubris, but it isn't her name. It pisses her off if you get it wrong—in case you ever meet her."

  "Oh. Um, thanks. I guess."

  Not seeming to be concerned about rendering his son speechless, Hermes clapped his hands together. "So, let's do this, shall we?" He returned to the counter where he'd been sitting before and produced a glass pitcher from the cabinet underneath. Kat had used it to make lemonade a few days before.

  Hermes held his wrist over the opening at the top, and a small dagger appeared in his opposite hand. He slit the skin from the center of where his hand met his wrist up to the midpoint between his hand and elbow. The blood poured out and into the glass like a dense, red, watered-down milkshake or syrup. It was thicker than what could be mistaken as wine. Her stomach churned and she had to turn away to keep from being sick.

  "It'll be okay." Pan drew her attention away from the bloodletting in the kitchen as her stomach jerked irritably and she choked on a retch. He'd finally recovered from the mystery of his parentage being revealed when she'd started to dry heave. It shouldn't warm her heart that her nearly vomiting outweighed his shock, yet it did.

  "You don't have to drink all of it at once," Pan said, rubbing her back.

  She gagged again. "Not. Helpful."

  "Besides," Hermes added, "I've heard ambrosia tastes sweet. It's not coppery like normal blood. Or maybe I'm thinking I heard that because I believe I taste delicious. You'll have to let me know."

  "I don't think I can do this," Kat whispered. She tried to calm herself, but she felt her breaths coming faster than before, deeper. She was panicking.

  Pan kissed her, and her world faded away. The sound of the blood dripping as Hermes' wound began to heal itself became white noise in the background. All she knew in that moment was Pan. He was rather distracting, and her disgust vanished, leaving only the throbbing need of desire.

  Kat pulled away before they accidentally showed Hermes a repeat of their earlier performance. A glance back at the counter revealed the pitcher of blood was half-full, and she managed to observe it without the urge to vomit from the sight. Maybe it was a pregnancy thing, considering she'd seen leopards and lions tearing into gazelles and never was grossed out by the blood.

  Wiping his arm with a paper towel, Hermes said, "The amount in here should make about six cups. It's more than what is usually required, because you have to ensure the immortality of the baby as well as yourself. Do not dilute it with water or wine, or else it will pass from your system and won't hold. Drink one cup in the morning and one at night for three days. Start tomorrow because you're looking a bit pale."

  Kat returned her gaze to the pitcher and noticed the liquid had changed color and consistency. It now looked like a rich burgundy wine rather than syrupy blood. What the hell?

  Hermes noticed it. "Hey, look at that. It almost looks appetizing now." He put it in the refrigerator and then handed Pan a scrap of paper with three phone numbers on it. There was a smear of blood. Kat saw that Hermes' wrist was completely healed. Only a light smudge of crimson proved something had happened there.

  "The top number is mine, and the second is Zeus. Hybris is the third; although, I do warn you, she lives up to her title. She's too proud and arrogant to admit to motherhood. I'm only giving you this because she may, despite any excuse she gives you, wish to know her grandchild. She visited you often when you were a baby, even if she didn't tell anyone she was doing it. Give her a chance. I only kept it from you because she asked me to."

  With his parting words, Hermes' wings spread out from his ankles, and then flapped a few times to warm up for their rapid little flutters, and he was gone. The door slammed a
second later.

  "Snap, he's fast."

  "It's annoying, isn't it?" Pan angled his head to the side as if he was listening for something.

  "He wasn't as bad as you'd led me to believe." He was actually pretty amusing to be around, if not sickening when you just wanted to have alone time with his super-hot son.

  "Try living with him constantly dropping in to harp at you. You'd change your opinion. Fast."

  "Are you going to call your mother?"

  He lifted one shoulder and dropped it again. "Maybe. Not like she ever tried to contact me. And why do gods have cell phones anyway? This is weird as hell." He made a face.

  "Give it some thought. Perhaps wait until after the baby is born and give yourself time to think about what you want to say to her." She rubbed her belly and smiled up at Pan. Kat never really gave motherhood much thought, but she was surprisingly happier about it than she would have believed.