Uninvited (Etudes in C# Book 3)

by Jamie Wyman

  I let out a choked laugh. “This is ridiculous.”

  “Face it, sweet cheeks, you’re not vanilla. You’re just as inhuman as Marius, only in a less overt way. Besides, do you really think you’d be happy with a normal guy? Or gal? You’d be bored out of your mind. You’d have to hide the things about being able to talk to machines, or your direct line to actual gods, or the fact that you’ve now seen Pandora’s box. Just so we’re both clear, was that a euphemism?”

  “No,” I said with a roll of my eyes.

  “Do you really think you could keep a relationship with someone who didn’t play in the same pool as you? I don’t think so. You might be able to fool yourself into believing that line about how Dahlia screwed you over and now you will never trust another nonhuman again, but fuck that. People get hurt all the time by other people without some supernatural kink in their DNA.”

  Tears streamed down my face as the ache in my chest became palpable. “I’m scared,” I whispered.

  She sighed with pity. “I know, boo,” she crooned. “We’re all scared.”

  I let out a long breath. “So what do I do?”

  “Get back over there and jump him. Tear off his clothes, hop on the good foot, and do the bad thing. A couple of times.”

  I laughed out a snotty bubble. “I can’t. Not tonight. I just… No.”

  “Well, then I don’t know what to tell you, Cat. But you can’t keep trying to bullshit yourself out of happiness, okay? You’re not with Eris anymore. Loki? He’s good to you. You no longer have an excuse to keep living some sad and dreary existence. And you know I’m right.”

  I didn’t say anything to that. We both knew she was right. I wiped my eyes with the heel of my hand and sighed.

  “Hey, I gotta split, boo,” Karma said. “I’ve got a real job to get back to.”

  I shook myself out of my thoughts. “Shit, I’m sorry. I forgot what time it was there. Thanks for talking. I heart your face.”

  “No worries. Hey, can I ask you a question before I take off?”

  “Shoot.”

  “Do you love Marius?”

  The question punched me in the chest. My throat closed up and my blood went cold with a sick, slow dread. I knew the answer to that question. And I didn’t like it. The answer terrified me more than princes of Hell and monolithic beasties.

  With my free hand, I gripped at my hair. I couldn’t say it. Not to Karma. Not even to myself.

  “Look,” she said quietly, her voice soothing. “I know you’re probably going crazy about this right now, but for what it’s worth, I think you need to tell him. If he’s in as much trouble as you say he is, this might be the only shot you’ve got. Take it while you can.”

  “Thanks, Karma.”

  “Have fun in Greece and bring me something shiny.”

  “Will do. Later.”

  Karma’s voice belted out a pop diva’s song, “Teeeell hiiiim!”

  Laughing through my tears, I hung up on her silly ass.

  ***

  My dreams were full of steam and whispered secrets. When I woke up, Marius’s name was on my lips. With the clarity that comes the morning after, I realized I had been colossally stupid to leave the satyr’s room. He’d gone through a lot of trouble to make our night together a glittering, delicious affair, and I’d gone and ruined everything.

  “Dumbass,” I spat at myself. Freaked out by a couple of kisses… Spectacular, mind-numbing kisses.

  My head swam with just the memory of his hands over my skin, the hot flush of need brought on by his mouth pressed to mine. An echo of that desire throbbed in my chest.

  Karma was right. It didn’t matter that he was a satyr. I’d been using that bullshit excuse on myself for years, and as she pointed out, it no longer held water. It was okay for vanilla-mortal Cat to go through life hating nonhumans because she’d been dicked over by one treacherous faerie and a goddess, but I’d entered a whole new category when Flynn and I had broken the binding that had kept my technomagic inert. Vanilla Cat had used her xenophobia as a flotation device after everything crashed a decade ago. But now, I wasn’t just bobbing along anymore, was I?

  The old rules didn’t apply; therefore, I couldn’t cling to the same fears.

  I lay there in bed thinking about all this, fingers dancing over my lips, lightly tracing the lines left behind by Marius’s kisses the night before.

  Tell him, Karma had said.

  But…

  But what? Karma would ask. She didn’t know about Marius’s curse or his stubborn belief that love was for crazy, deluded humans. Those thorns were a very important part of reality in this case, weren’t they?

  At the end of the day, though, what mattered was the twisting in my chest and the pangs of emptiness I felt when Marius and I weren’t together. Curse or no curse, I still wanted him, still craved his presence.

  It didn’t matter if Marius couldn’t feel pleasure, or even if he didn’t reciprocate, did it? Any moment now some big bad nasty could come scoop him up and drag him away and there would be this thing dangling between us, the chord that wouldn’t resolve.

  With a flutter in my tummy and a hot splash of fear, I gave myself the order: Tell him. Now.

  As if I were watching myself on television and not living the whole thing, I saw myself stand up from the bed and move around the hotel room.

  Holy shit. She’s going to do this. I’m going to do this.

  I didn’t bother with breakfast. I doubt I could’ve kept anything down anyway, what with the elephants sumo wrestling in my stomach. My hands shook as I brushed my hair, and then sweat beaded on my forehead, and my palms went damp as I walked up the path to Marius and Malcom’s shared bungalow.

  I stood at the door trying to rehearse my words and gather the courage to say them. And I realized I was smiling. My body felt light and almost giddy as I realized that as terrifying as this confession would be, it would also be liberating. I could share my secret, and then I might also be able to confide in Marius just what had happened after Malcolm shot me. That I’d truly died. That I knew so much of the peace of the next world that it made coping with this one difficult. And if I explained that…then maybe Marius would understand why I needed to be near him. He’d finally know why I couldn’t let him just run headlong into danger on his own.

  Then what?

  With a strange sense of déjà vu, I knocked. Malcom answered. The nubs of his horns poked through the unruly coils of his hair. His face was drawn and weary, eyes bloodshot. The funk around him smelled of cigarettes, booze, and a floral perfume.

  “Cat,” he drawled. “Haven’t we done this before, love?”

  My nervous smile stretched. “Morning, Mal. Looks like you had quite the night.”

  Mal opened the door wider so that I could come in. “Damn near perfection. Only thing missing was you.”

  As I stepped in, I saw that Mal was shirtless. And…well, a half-goat. Black, sleek fur covered his inhuman legs. A pair of Superman boxers, saved me from getting an eyeful of Mal’s bits, though. The signature S was emblazoned on his ass.

  “Damn, you’re smooth,” I said sarcastically.

  As his hooves clicked across to the kitchen floor, Mal rolled a bare shoulder with feigned embarrassment. “I know. What about you? You’re beaming like sunshine, but he’s been pissy all morning.”

  “That’s…complicated,” I said, sucking air through my teeth. Mal padded into the kitchen and plucked some food from a plate. The cold remnants of our dinners were piled unceremoniously in the sink, and Mal grazed on them. The glasses were empty, and I saw at least two empty bottles of wine. Pillows had been tossed around the room, disturbing the neat and quiet order of the bungalow.

  My heart shuddered. Something told me this wasn’t the aftermath of a wild rumpus.

  I should’ve stayed.

  “Where is he?” I asked quietly.

  Mal’s face stretched in another yawn as he scratched his furry belly. He shook like a dog and made a similarly
canine barking sound in his throat. Without opening his eyes, he pawed limply toward the sliding-glass doors. “Out there somewhere.”

  I’d already put my back to Malcolm and breezed out the patio door before I remembered to mumble a halfhearted thank-you. My satyr wasn’t there. Whatever whirlwind had torn through the sitting room had spared the outside. In fact, all I found out there were the waxy puddles of candles. Marius hadn’t bothered to snuff them out. The rose petals, darkened and shriveled, floated in the hot tub in a reminder of what might have been.

  Guilt gripped me by the throat. A small gate was ajar so I passed through and followed a twisting, tile path down the slope toward the beach. I caught the scent of Marius’s cologne as a sea breeze tossed the air. Prowling for my prey, I quickened my pace.

  The path merged with a wooden boardwalk as land joined up with sandy beach. Though it was heading into midmorning, the day was overcast. Thick clouds threatened rain, and the sea rolled with large, choppy waves. Apparently, most people were enjoying other parts of the resort because the beach was quiet. Practically vacant. A man played Frisbee with a black dog, stopping only to admire the slender, bronzed woman jogging past them.

  I found Marius plodding through the foam. He wore a white T-shirt that was loose enough to be comfortable but tight enough to show off the lines of his muscles. His white linen pants were rolled up to avoid the spray. A pair of thong sandals hung limply from two fingers as he stepped along the shoreline, his bare feet leaving imprints in the moist sand. Hoof-shaped ones. If anyone else noticed, they wouldn’t have a chance to confirm any suspicions before the waves washed away all remnants that he’d ever passed by.

  Sadness radiated from him, dragging the clouds around him like a dark shroud. And yet, from beneath his cloak of melancholy, something primal blazed in his eyes. Something without pretense. That’s when I understood: this Marius was real. Sure, there was the standard glamour hiding his satyr’s features. Beyond that, however, was Marius. Just Marius. This was my satyr at the most vulnerable I’d seen him—well, when he wasn’t bleeding on my doorstep. That was something different. That was trauma and danger. This was a man having a moment to himself, wrapped in thoughts and unaware of anything else.

  I didn’t go to him then. I stood on the boardwalk, leaning against the railing and watching Marius. Just watching, enjoying the sight of him. Any moment he would feel the prickly sensation of my eyes on him. He’d look up, catch me staring, and…well, whatever happened would happen.

  Until then, though, I’d savor this scene of him away from the eyes of the world.

  A particularly strong gust of wind blew in from behind him. His black locks whipped around his face. He stopped walking and turned to face the wind, giving me a view of his profile. He closed his eyes. As he had a night or two ago, he seemed to relish the feeling of the Grecian air flowing over his skin. The wind rippled over his clothes and through his hair, and as it did, some of his sadness melted away. Frothy waves lapped at his ankles, and he spread his arms, welcoming this cleansing.

  Maybe things can change, I mused.

  This was a different man than the one I’d met all those years ago in Eris’s office. Marius had changed so much. We both had. And if my own contempt for him could shift into this warm, terrifying affection, could his? If the two of us could go from bitter enemies to whatever this was, perhaps even more would be possible.

  Maybe, just maybe, we could love each other.

  The wind died down a bit, and as it did, Marius lowered his arms. When he opened his eyes, he looked as though he’d come to some understanding with himself. Or the world. Or both. His gaze tracked over the horizon, and the barest of smiles dimpled his cheeks. Not a smirk. An honest smile.

  My stomach quivered. Just that simple shift in his features transformed his morose beauty to something heartrendingly attractive. Speechless, I melted in awe of my satyr.

  Mine.

  A smile of my own warmed me.

  Now, I nudged myself. Go to him now.

  Since moving to Vegas I’d learned a thing or two about gambling, and now was the time to take a risk. To scream and leap into the unknown, come what may or hell to pay.

  I took a few steps toward him, my feet sinking into the deep sand. “Marius!” I called. I was surprised at the joy ringing in just those syllables.

  He followed the sound of my voice and found me, his stare mimicking the surprise I felt. Confusion furrowed his brow. As the moment came closer, that moment of spilling it all to him, it seemed the world slowed down to take notice, as well. The man throwing the Frisbee stopped his game, the disc floating past Marius and landing out somewhere in the surf. The dog bounded along the shoreline, jaws open. And growing.

  Marius’s face changed then. The confusion darkened, his features sharpening with alarm that soon morphed into true horror. The dog leaped, its massive black form eclipsing the perfect white of Marius’s clothing.

  I didn’t understand.

  Not until I saw the red stain flowing out with the tide.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “Ain’t No Good”

  Even though I was still a good twenty yards away, the rank stench of brimstone was strong enough that I gagged. Choking on the memories that stink evoked, my stomach churned and threatened to heave.

  I’d never seen a hellhound before. The already-large dog had doubled in size, its coat shifting from sleek fur to wisps of shadow that absorbed the light. Its teeth dripped with sulfuric venom, and its eyes glowed red as coals. Waves pounded the pair. Gigantic paws pinned Marius to the sand, scraped at my satyr’s chest. As the water ebbed away, Marius sputtered and coughed, his face contorted with agony as his fresh wounds were doused with salt.

  He roared in pain, the gashes on his sides bleeding into the water. He held the hound at bay with one strong arm and the blade of his saber, drawn from its sheath in the ether. The steel was buried to the hilt into the dog’s body, but the twisting shadows refused to split or bleed.

  As I ran, I screamed Marius’s name. My voice, thin and shrill, sounded a million miles away. My feet slid as I pounded down the dune. Goddamn sand! Every step seemed to take me farther from him. Every second jerked through time too quickly, skipping precious nano-moments that could make all the difference between… Oh gods, I couldn’t think of that.

  Twenty feet away now.

  I began to pool power in my fists, preparing to punch the dog so hard I’d send the mutt flying out into the crater and down to Heph’s Forge.

  Fifteen feet.

  At the end of the tunnel that served as my field of vision, Marius thrashed in the surf, the hellhound’s jaws snapping at him with gleeful ferocity. His arm—locked under the beast’s shoulder—trembled from the effort of holding its bulk. The hound dug its back paws into Marius’s thighs.

  Ten feet.

  My satyr roared with pain again. This terrible warble was drowned out by the next wave, a huge swell that swept over both Marius and his attacker.

  I plunged into the whitecap and unleashed my power. Water exploded in a plume, and my legs went out from under me in probably the least graceful face-plant ever. The water I’d just sent skyward fell right about the same time I got tossed by the next wave crashing in. I couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe, and I couldn’t find Marius. Groping with outstretched hands only brought fistfuls of water or silt. As the waves receded again, I got my feet underneath me and shot up from the water, gasping and ready to tear that hellhound’s face off.

  But it was gone.

  Disoriented and dizzy, I searched the nearby shore. No dog. Worse, no Marius.

  What I thought might be a scrap of his shirt was nothing more than a broken shell. The stringy flotsam was sea grass, not his hair. Nothing of Marius remained but a pink tinge to the sea foam.

  “No,” I said, the waves pounding my back.

  On my knees, I flailed, shoving at the water as if I could somehow part it. If I dug a little deeper through the wet sand, maybe I would find
the satyr there. As my desperation mounted, my splashing became more feverish. I threw clumps of sand, fought the tide as I trudged up and down the shore looking for him. I called his name over and over.

  He never answered.

  No one did. The beach was so desolate I may as well have been on the moon.

  Another behemoth wave threw me off my feet. I came down on my hands and knees, and as the water washed over my back, I felt all hope ebb away.

  “No,” I moaned, mouth dripping with seawater. My guts rolled as I entertained the horrible notion that the salty taste on my lips was my satyr’s blood.

  He’s gone.

  Terrified, I tried to quantify what that could mean. All manner of horrors played out behind my eyes. As the terror took over, my lip began to quiver. Deep in the pit of me, something roiled and quaked, threatening to burst out of me in the most hideous wail. I clamped down on it, biting into the sides of my mouth to keep from erupting.

  “No,” I said again, this time through a thick bubble of despair.

  Another wave and I crumbled beneath it like a sand castle. Rage tore through me, and I punched at the earth. I thrashed and kicked, sending up sprays of water. Fighting didn’t bring him back. It didn’t give me mystical insight on where he’d gone, nor did it tell me if Marius was alive or… I pitched forward, nauseated at the very thought.

  The place where he’d been, the patch of sand he’d occupied just moments before, had already been smoothed to perfection. Not so much as an imprint of him remained.

  My satyr.

  Gone.

  I let out a wordless, ululating howl of despair that left me feeling cold and weak. Sputtering, shivering, I crouched on my hands and knees.

  At that moment, of all the things I could think of—all the hideous torments I could imagine—I could hear Llyr’s voice.

  Promise me, he’d said. Swear to me that you will help him through this.

  Tears flowed down my face, adding their salt to the sea. I closed my eyes, but it didn’t stop the vision. Llyr’s careworn face swam up in my mind. Those old blue eyes questioned me, accused me.