Uninvited (Etudes in C# Book 3)

by Jamie Wyman

  Her voice was like nails on the chalkboard of my soul, grating to the point of nausea. It had been featured in more than a few of my nightmares—real and imagined—over the years. I would know it anywhere.

  Eris.

  Marius’s mustache twitched with a similar reaction. Then he closed his eyes, resigned, and turned slowly in the sand. I followed suit, and when I looked, the shadows rippled to reveal Discord’s lupine smile.

  “Lady,” Marius said, his tone bitter and cold.

  Eris’s lips spread wide over her too-white teeth as she stepped into the moonlight. The goddess hadn’t changed in the past few years. Her skin still clung to her bones in pasty wrinkles. She wore a black caftan belted at her waist. Rather than form a figure, the garment only emphasized her withered physique. The Mistress of Strife resembled the skeleton of a mountain range—craggy, sharp, and brittle.

  She tilted her head with birdlike curiosity. “Expecting me, Marius?”

  He shook his head. “But I’m not surprised to see you.”

  “Pity. The look of shock on your face when I removed your mark was simply delicious. I was hoping for another serving.”

  Marius glowered at her, but the goddess only smiled.

  “And Catherine Sharp,” she said cheerfully, bringing her hands together with glee. “It’s been an eternity if it’s been a day since I set eyes upon you.”

  Meeting her golden stare, I felt a snarl building in my throat. “And what truly glorious days those have been.”

  “You’ve not missed me? Not even a little?”

  I snorted. “I’ve missed you like a woman misses a pap smear.”

  Marius’s hand was a warm warning against my wrist. “Catherine,” he said gently, “mind your tongue.”

  “Pay him no heed, Miss Sharp. I’d love to hear what you’d say to me. Now that I have no sway over your soul, surely you have a few choice words you’ve been aching to unleash for a long time.”

  Boy, did I…

  How do I loathe thee? Let me count the ways.

  “She is baiting you,” Marius whispered in my ear. “Do not let her.”

  He was right. Loki might hold the deed to my soul, but Eris still had her own power. I would be a fool to forget that. I drew a breath and tried to will my malice into the sand.

  “What do you want of us, Lady?” Marius asked with trepidation.

  Her wintry laughter cut over the ocean, jarring the serene Grecian night. “Of you? Oh, satyr. It is enough for me to know you suffer. Both of you,” she added, piercing me with her glare. “In your own time, you’ve each made a fool of me. And for that, I wish you nothing but sorrow. I relish the thought that Catherine will meet the same fate as you, Marius, seeing as she’s yoked herself with you. The pair of you torn apart by those who crave vengeance. Two naughty birds with one stone.”

  An electric hum brought the hairs on my arms to attention. I squinted at the goddess. Her golden eyes shimmered queerly, and the ether around her quivered.

  She’s drawing power, I realized. I inhaled some of the energy pumping through the resorts, preparing my own defense.

  She must have sensed it, because Eris raised both hands to her chest, as if she were holding a ball. Black lightning arced between her clawlike fingers.

  At the same moment, we attacked.

  I stomped one foot, and a wall of sand flew up between us. The goddess’s lightning struck my flimsy barrier, and with a flash of greenish light, the sand transformed to glass. It hovered there, and I punched the air, sending out a pulse of my own power. The glass shattered and propelled forward into the goddess’s ugly face. She screamed and brought up her sinewy arms to shield herself. I pressed my advantage. Bringing both hands up with a sweeping gesture that mimicked the ocean’s rolling waves, I gathered more energy. As the movement crested, I thrust my hands at Eris. A gout of white light and seawater shot toward her as if I’d unleashed all the fury of a fire hose, but she dodged it.

  I blinked. Water? That’s not supposed to happen.

  The moment of hesitation cost me. Quick as a viper, Eris lunged for me, teeth bared in a hungry snarl. I groped for the singing electricity of Santorini, and the island answered immediately. Power flooded me, and I didn’t even have to say please.

  The next strike came not from Eris and her outstretched claws but from the side. Marius’s body barreled into mine, sending me off my feet. I tumbled to the sand, the power ebbing away and flowing out with the tide.

  “Son of a bitch,” I hissed.

  Marius had drawn his sword. He whirled the blade, snagging Eris’s flowing caftan. This was no more than a puppy nipping at her heels, but she followed him, turning her back to me. Eris seethed, shoulders hunched and hands flexing as if imagining what it would feel like to take the satyr’s throat in her hands.

  I slowly moved to get to my feet. A hand reached out of the night and pressed against my shoulder, the weight of it heavy as the world. Instantly, the touch dampened that glorious, heady sensation of drinking in power.

  “Be still, girl,” said a low male voice.

  My gaze searched the area, but I could hardly make out the features of the newcomer. He wore the night like a second skin. Then the shadows shifted and I caught a glimpse of his other hand, fingers splayed, aimed at Marius.

  “No,” I choked out.

  “Hush now!”

  Intent on working some badass-fu and getting this guy off me, I grabbed the hand pressing me down and gasped. Cold and solid as rock, each digit was as large as two of my own. Whoever he was, the guy was a landmass.

  In an instant, his features lit up—a hint of silvery eyes and a rugged jaw—illuminated by orange fire. I jumped and turned my attention to the sudden ignition. Marius’s saber blazed, flames caressing the blade. In all the times I’d seen him fight with this particular sword, I’d never witnessed this. Marius’s eyes widened only slightly, and it was that brief expression that told me he hadn’t expected to see his sword do that, either.

  Eris, however, could not hide her surprise. She went stock-still, her face a mask of horrified confusion.

  Beside me, the night stirred with a barely audible laugh.

  “Something vexes thee, Lady?” Marius asked coolly.

  “Marius,” Eris said, her voice thin and high with fear, “have you gone and learned a new trick?”

  When he spoke, his voice was as hard and unwavering as his stare. “Oh, this?” He indicated the flames wreathing his sabre. “Just something I picked up somewhere.”

  Slowly, the two stalked each other in a tight circle with the deadly ferocity of jungle cats. Eris recovered her wits, and with a malicious smile, she reassumed her poker face. Marius—oh, my Marius—regarded the goddess with stony resolve. The fire licking up from his sword cast his features in ever-shifting shadows and patterns like war paint.

  “And what of you?” Marius asked. “This is rather out of your character.”

  “Is it?”

  He was right. Eris was rarely one to go on an outright attack. She preferred to strike through others—like me or Marius—and watch the fallout. What was she doing coming at us full frontal?

  “Do you see?” the hulking mass to my left whispered. “Her spell is weak.”

  I tried to focus but couldn’t suss out what the stranger meant.

  “Doing your own dirty work for a change, Lady?” Marius asked. “That is rather unlike you.”

  “A few lashes here and there are rather fun for me, vermin.” Eris stopped her wary circle and fixed Marius with her cold stare. “Could it be that you’ve found another benefactor? And so quickly.”

  “Perhaps you were simply too quick to dismiss me,” Marius sang.

  “I dismissed you for far too long, satyr.” Her tone was charred beneath the heat of her loathing. “I believed you to be nothing more than a wastrel, a fool. No one betrays me and goes unscathed.”

  She lashed out, her fury arcing in the night like a whip made of that black lightning. Marius parried
the strike with his blade. Her power sizzled and cracked at her side as they continued their dance.

  The weight lifted from my shoulder. The sand beside me was empty, save for a large impression where the stranger had been. Turning my attention back to Marius and Eris, I slowly got to my feet and put my back to the ocean.

  “There is no one,” she said finally, resuming her pacing. “Is there, Marius? This flash and dazzle is a parlor trick, not a divine gift from a new master. You’ve found nothing but a fool.” She spared me a wicked glance. “A meager mage.”

  “An ally,” Marius countered, cutting a tighter arc in his circuit. He was closing in on Eris and drawing her away from me. “Someone who knows exactly what it’s like to be tethered to a bitch like you.”

  Pride swelled in my chest. I’d never heard him openly insult Discord before.

  She lashed out again. He responded with another a swipe of his sword, batting away the crackling power she wielded.

  “You’re no closer to a safe haven than when I cast you off. Your bridges are burned, satyr, and soon your skin will curl in the flames of vengeance. I assume Asgard’s son refused you,” Eris said. “That’s why you went to her, isn’t it? To beg Loki to take you into his confidence?” Her golden eyes twitched to me. “What did this one tell you, Miss Sharp? What lies did he spin to gain your trust this time?”

  I could feel her spell worming its way into my mind like a barbed vine. As she spoke, the tendrils of distrust thrust out, seeking purchase. With the same kind of clarity I had when it came to technomancy, I understood Eris’s magic.

  She plants the seed in fertile ground. Discord blooms in its own time.

  With an effort of will, I shoved back, purged it from my mind. After letting out a slow breath, I stared a challenge at the goddess. “Nice try.”

  Eris arched an eyebrow. “Perhaps the mage isn’t as weak as I suspected.”

  “You were wrong about him,” I said. “You’re wrong about me. You know, for a deity, you totally fail at the whole omnipotent thing.”

  “Mortals,” she spat. “So headstrong. Always forgetting how fragile they are.”

  Again, Eris’s power snaked through the night. It moved past Marius and straight toward me. As he spun on his feet, kicking up sand, Marius called out. Eris’s toothy grin—that was her tell. That’s how I knew she had no intention of harming me. Not when she could cause so much more pain. It was the same dirty trick Belial had pulled.

  Eris let the lightning whip go slack and pursed her lips. A puff of air, a flash of amber light, and the flames on Marius’s blade leaped to the sleeve of his shirt.

  “No!” I shouted.

  I thrust out my hands, intending to send a blast of light into Eris’s ugly face. Instead, with a gurgling roar, the ocean behind me rose up. Like an enormous hooded cobra, it struck, dousing Marius, his sword, and the goddess.

  When the steam dissipated, there was only a sopping wet satyr.

  Eris was gone.

  The night became still. The waves washed in and slowly out like the breath of a slumbering giant. Santorini was just as it had been moments before Eris had appeared. I inched forward, alternating between examining Marius and my hands.

  “Where did she go?” I asked. “Did I melt the bitch?”

  Marius, his sword now sheathed in the ether once more, dragged his hands through his thick, wet hair. He squeezed the ponytail, water dripping to the sand, and sighed. “No such luck. It seems she wasn’t actually here.”

  I gaped at him. “Could’ve fooled me.”

  “You’re in good company. She had me convinced, as well.”

  “Well if it wasn’t her, what the hell was it?”

  “A sending. A sliver of her awareness was here with us while her body was elsewhere. It’s an ability all gods share.”

  I nodded. “The answer to the old question, ‘How can God be everywhere?’”

  “Precisely. It’s the magic of their kind.”

  “So what just happened, then?” I asked.

  Marius slipped out of his shirt. Moonlight glistened on his skin, and my stomach flopped with heat and desire. “Water,” he answered, wringing out the tee. “It nullified the spell.”

  Again, I bobbed my head with understanding. “Cleansing.”

  “Doubly so with seawater.” Marius smiled. “That was quick thinking on your part. I had no idea you’d taken up another form of magic.”

  I stared at my hands. “I haven’t,” I whispered. “I don’t know how…” I stopped mid-sentence, and for a moment, I pondered our large visitor. Had he cast the gouts of water, just as I’d assumed he had empowered Marius’s saber? No, the power had been mine. The release of energy, the flow and connection, it had come from my hands. My will. How, then, had I ensnared water magic?

  When I looked to him for an answer, Marius had—much to my disappointment—put his shirt back on. Damn.

  “What about you? I’ve never seen your sword catch fire.”

  His smile was broad, eyes glittering with mercurial humor. “That’s the beauty of visiting the maker from time to time. Upgrades.”

  I thought of the low voice in the night. “Hephaestus?”

  He nodded. “He’s got to be around here somewhere.”

  I did a slow 360, searching for the owner of the voice that had been in my ear. A few feet from Marius, something metallic caught the starlight and winked. The shadows rippled, and a behemoth stepped into view.

  My stomach twitched, fear and awe tugging at my guts. He was as tall as Belial and broad as a barn. Shirtless, his chest and shoulders bulged with muscles of comic-book-hero scale. His skin was as dark and impenetrable as a black hole. His eyes—dear gods, he should’ve been blind!—were pure silver. No irises or pupils, just solid silver casting back the light. His hair hung in moss-colored naps down past his shoulders. His lips split to reveal an ivory smile and one gold tooth.

  He raised an arm. The amulet—the charm Marius had used to grant us Godspeed—dangled from his gargantuan fist.

  “You’ve dropped something,” he said, his voice deep and musical. “If you wanted my attention, you could’ve called rather than leaving a flaming bag of dog shit on my doorstep. It attracts flies that I’m not fond of.” The god indicated the wet pool of sand where Eris had stood.

  My satyr’s face glowed with relief and a genuine happiness. “Hephaestus.”

  Wincing, I watched as Marius was swallowed by the giant’s hug.

  Hephaestus grunted pleasantly. “It’s good to see you again, my friend.”

  “The feeling is mutual,” Marius replied. He smacked the god’s back in that way men do. The resulting sound was that of flesh slapping a slab of marble. “Time’s been good to you.”

  Though he could’ve palmed Marius’s head—and probably torn it off with little effort—the god’s hand on the satyr’s shoulder was gentle. “And to you. But you seem to have found yourself in a bit of trouble.”

  “Trouble fancies me.”

  Though his unblinking eyes gave nothing away, I felt Hephaestus’s attention flash to me. “So that’s her name? Trouble?”

  Marius remembered me. “I’d like to introduce you to Catherine Sharp. As you saw, she’s quite the talented mage.”

  “Indeed, I see,” the god rumbled. Hephaestus draped his arm over Marius’s shoulders and guided him toward me. “Come, my friend. You’ve been gone too long, and we must talk.”

  “Of many things,” Marius said, a pointed glance in my direction.

  As he passed me, Hephaestus reached out his free hand and stroked my wrist. I blinked, and when I opened my eyes, I was no longer standing on the sandy beach of Santorini but in what I could only assume was Hephaestus’s sanctuary.

  I’m always intrigued to see what constitutes a home for magical beings. Of all that I’d seen up to that point, Hephaestus’s abode—though not quite humble—was the one I liked best. We were in cave with cathedral ceilings and smooth obsidian floors. Orbs of amber light provided a stea
dy glow bright enough to read by, but not too hard on the eyes. Porous stalagmites rose up from the ground to form end tables. Tunnels burrowed deeper into the earth, presumably leading to other rooms. Every piece of furniture—chairs, a sofa, an ottoman—was huge and squishy, covered in Riot Act–Red suede. Nooks in the rocky walls held books, knickknacks, and tools. I recognized the haphazard placement from my own apartment—a multi-tool placed on the shelf as I walked by while tinkering with this object or that. There were posters on the walls, too. Most of them were movie ads—The Lord of the Rings, superhero flicks. Big-budget, special effects stuff.

  The air quivered with mirages. Though it wasn’t uncomfortable, the room radiated an intense, dry heat.

  The transition from shore to cave had been seamless. “That…was smooth,” I said, awestruck.

  “See? Traveling his way is much better than Flynn’s, too.” Marius snarked.

  I rolled my eyes. “Baby.”

  Hephaestus emerged from one of the many tunnels that branched out from the cave. He clutched two bottles in one hand, and a stein the size of my laptop in the other. He held up the bottles in an offering to Marius and me. “It’s not the Elysian wine I know you prefer, Marius, but it’s a good lubrication for catching up with an old friend.”

  Seeing the god in full light rendered me speechless. Breathless, even. He was incredible. That dark skin—cold and hard to the touch—was truly like marble. Here and there, white veins shot through the stone of him, providing muscle definition, a pattern along the chin that resembled a goatee. His dreadlocks were made of aged copper. Most of the locks appeared dark, but what I’d earlier mistaken for moss I now understood to be verdigris.

  Again, there came the eerie sensation of his attention as he turned his sightless, steel eyes to me. He flashed me a gold-toothed grin.

  “And a new friend,” he added, voice as deep as a bass drum and twice as resonant. Concern replaced the joy in his expression, the stone that comprised his face shifting just as easily as flesh. “Something wrong, girl?”

  “Just a lot to take in,” I said.

  I dragged my hands through my hair and crossed to one of the plush chairs. Well, for someone of Hephaestus’s size, I suppose it was a chair. I was able to curl my whole body between the arms and melt into the soft folds. Yeah. He and I shared similar tastes in furniture and décor, not to mention a propensity to tinker and build. He’d barely spoken and I knew that Hephaestus was a kindred spirit.