Uninvited (Etudes in C# Book 3)

by Jamie Wyman

  Please? Protect my son.

  The weight of it all dragged at me, clung to me like hoarfrost. I’d tried to help him. But somewhere between dying in England and dancing on a balcony in Greece, I’d gotten swept up in my stupid feelings. I’d lost sight of the very real danger.

  And because of that, I’d failed.

  I’d lost Marius.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  “It’s Coming Down”

  I don’t remember how I got back up to the hotel room. I only know that one minute I was sobbing on the shoreline and the next I was sitting on the floor of a steaming hot shower. My fingers were pruny, so gods only knew how long I’d been sitting there. My hair was clean, though, and the deep chill I’d felt down to my soul had seeped away.

  I stood, and as I turned off the water, I heard voices from my room. Almost immediately, the low sounds cut off. My mind didn’t begin the process of deducing who might be there and what they might want. No, I was too numb to feel something like panic. Too hollow to think.

  I drew energy into my right hand as easily as one picked up a towel. Friend or foe, it didn’t matter. I padded forward, ready to meet what—or whom—ever might be in the room.

  There came a light knock on the door. “Cat, it’s me,” Loki said. There was a pause laden with any number of rote responses he could offer, and it was that silence that told me that he knew about Marius. One of the reasons I’d grown to respect Loki, though, was that he didn’t do rote. He spit in the face of propriety and scripted social responses. At that moment, though, the gap between his words told me that he was sorely tempted to go easy on me.

  “We should talk,” he said finally.

  Without letting go of the power in my fist, I said, “Sure. Who’s with you?”

  “Hephaestus.”

  Again, Loki paused. Something about his reticence annoyed the shit out of me. I knew that kind of silence. It was the same brand everyone used after a huge trauma, like being told you have cancer…or the sudden death of a friend. It was a silence that didn’t know what it would take to be filled.

  “Your clothes are drying on the terrace,” he called through the door. “Is there anything you’d like me to bring you?”

  I scanned the bathroom, and sure enough, my clothes were gone. There were towels on the rack, and a white robe hung on a hook. I slipped into the terry cloth robe and opened the door. Loki was slouched there, hands braced on the doorjamb and head bowed. He lifted his chin just enough to bring us eye to eye. Emotions crowded his face, each vying for the top spot. The trickster’s brow creased with pity. From beneath a blossom of dark-purple welts, the god’s arctic eyes flashed with confusion. Blood dried on his swollen lower lip as his mouth parted in subtle surprise.

  I didn’t have the energy to question why he looked as if he’d been rumbled for his lunch money. I shrugged deeper into the robe and answered his earlier question. “I’m fine.”

  Loki met my stare, studying me, searching for clues as to my mental state. Had I been in a better mood, I’d have probably enjoyed the hell out of making a trickster god wonder if I was speaking in layered riddles. As it was, though, I didn’t give a shit either way. Perhaps it was the bond we shared through my soul, the mark that branded me as his vassal. Or maybe I imagined it, but it seemed that Loki hung there trying to decide who I was and how he would treat me. In what capacity should he act—boss, friend, or master?

  I took the decision out of his hands. Stiffening my lip and straightening my spine, I asked, “How can I be of service to Asgard?”

  He held my gaze a moment longer, marred jaw working as he weighed his options. With a resigned nod, Loki let his hands slide off the jamb and stood to his full height. “Follow me,” he said coolly.

  I padded into the hotel room behind him, hands in my pockets.

  As we passed the overstuffed chair, Loki motioned with one finger that I should sit. I curled up in the seat, knees drawn to my chest. Across from me, Hephaestus took up most of the sofa with his bulk. Loki slithered into the narrow space between Heph and the arm of the couch. Pale and slender tucked in next to the obsidian land mass. It was damn near comical.

  “Hephaestus,” I said curtly.

  “Cat,” he rumbled. Heph’s quicksilver eyes were impossible to track, but it felt as if his attention swam around the room, seeking anything to rest on but me.

  I sighed. If neither of them would open the wound, it might as well be me. “I take it you both know about Marius.”

  Heph winced, his massive shoulders hunching at the sound of the satyr’s name. After another gaping chasm of silence, the blacksmith nodded, his stare trained to the floor.

  I passed a question to Loki. “You?”

  “Heph told me.”

  “I see. Is that why you’re here?”

  “More or less.” In the full lamplight, the shadowy bruises on Loki’s face looked even darker than they had before. At the collar of his Ramones T-shirt I saw what looked like scorch marks, the skin at his throat red and puffy.

  “What happened?” I finally asked. “Did you get rolled by a hellhound, too?”

  “More or less,” he repeated. “Look, Cat, we need to talk about your future.”

  I couldn’t suppress the irreverent scoff. “What are you, my guidance counselor?”

  “I’m serious. Even though Marius is— Well, even though you’re not—” Loki shook his head and looked away from me, searching to see if his next line was written on the walls. Maybe the carpet. Nope. Not there, either. “You’re still in danger, Cat.”

  “Are you new here? I’m always in danger.”

  “It’s different now. You’ve got several sets of eyes on you, and I don’t think I can protect you from all of them.”

  I glared at Loki icily. Parting the thick folds of the robe, I revealed the bullet hole in my chest. “You don’t say.”

  “Don’t be a smart-ass, Cat. You’re good at the snark, but with me, you’re grossly outclassed.”

  I put away the wound but not the attitude. “Sure, Chief. So it’s suddenly news to you that I’m an endangered species?”

  “It’s not like before,” he warned. “You had the attentions of a few factions—some with power, some trying to gain it back. And ever since your little dance with Moloch, more of my colleagues are aware of you. Allowing you to step out with the satyr was possibly the stupidest thing I could’ve done. I’m sorry.”

  “I probably would’ve done it anyway.”

  “And that also would have been incredibly dumb.”

  “Yeah, well, can’t take any of it back…” I shrugged. I could think of far more idiotic things I’d done in the past twenty-four hours. My mind lingered on that kiss. And my exit. When I spoke again my voice was raw with regret. “None of it.”

  “No shit. Now anyone who ever had a beef with Marius—or Eris, for that matter—is watching you, sizing you up. They want to know who you are and how you can be used.”

  “Against who? You?”

  “Anyone. But if it’s names you want, your pal Flynn jumps to mind.”

  That hooked my attention. Would hellhounds go knocking at YmFy next? Or worse, would Belial show up there?

  Loki pressed his warning deeper. “And if they find you can’t be used, Cat, they’ll be working out the best way to bring you down.”

  I sighed. “And just what do you propose I do about all this?”

  “Hide.”

  I blinked at him. “Are you serious?”

  “As Ragnarok. You need to make yourself scarce. Heph here has offered to shelter you at the Forge for a week or two until I’ve got something better worked out.”

  “Wait,” I said.

  But Loki spoke over me. “You’ll need to disconnect from Vegas for a few months at least. A year or two would be best. Cut your hair. Dye it. I’ll have some alter egos for you to play with.”

  “Wait a minute,” I repeated.

  “Heph, we’ll need some armor.”

  “I’ve al
ready given her Aphrodite’s,” the blacksmith rumbled. “If you’d like, I will work with her on packaging some cloaking spells if you’d be willing to provide them.”

  “Of course. I have a few other ideas we can discuss at the Forge.”

  I jumped to my feet and let out a snap of white power, like a frat boy wielding a wet towel. “Wait just a fucking minute!”

  The gods cut off their plans and gaped at me, Loki’s jaw and eyes wide open. The energy still crackled at my fingertips.

  “I’m not cutting or dying my hair,” I simmered. “I’m not disconnecting from Vegas. I’m not hiding. And as much as I appreciate the offer, I will not be hunkering down at the Forge for the next few weeks. And would either of you like to venture a guess as to why?”

  “Because you’re a stubborn twit with a death wish?” Loki sniped.

  “Because I still have a goddamn job to do. Christ, both of you are here, morose as fuck and plotting to whisk me away like some helpless princess when what we should be doing is figuring out where the hellhound took Marius.”

  My words floated in the air, a thick miasma that choked the gods. For a few beats, they just stared at me. Heph dropped his gaze, and held his head in his hands. Loki, though, fixed me with his cold eyes. He pawed down his cheeks and steepled his fingers in front of his mouth.

  “Oh shit,” he murmured. Loki focused on the floor, dragging his hands through his strawberry-blond spikes. “Shitshitshit,” he hissed. “Why the hell…? Of all the sons of cursed whorebag foolish fuckwits and…”

  “Okay. You go ahead and make up new and exciting swear words. I’m going to get to work.”

  I hopped off the chair and started for the bedroom. Loki took me gently by the shoulders and guided me back to my seat.

  “Catherine, please,” he said. He’d used the full version of my name, which was rare for Loki.

  Oh gods. What do they know that I don’t?

  When Loki spoke again, his voice was soft. “We can’t go find Marius.”

  I shut my eyes. He didn’t know. He couldn’t know.

  “Cat? Cat, look at me. Look at me.”

  I opened my eyes, but Loki hid behind the quivering blur of my tears.

  “He’s gone.”

  “No,” I said thickly.

  “Cat,” Loki warned. I stood up and struggled against the god’s bulky arms.

  “No.”

  “Cat, I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he repeated, voice breaking yet loud enough to muffle my protests, “but he’s gone.”

  “No!”

  I lashed out, drawing on power, but as Loki clamped his hands over my wrists, the energy drained away. I gasped. I couldn’t feel the electric hum dancing in the air, couldn’t see the filaments of power or the workings of even the simplest of devices. Somehow Loki had muted my powers. For the first time in years, I was normal.

  My heart pounded, and though I tried to breathe, to draw in power and air alike, both were denied to me. My ribs shrank in my chest, and I felt as if I were drowning. I pushed and slithered, trying to wrench myself free of Loki’s grip, but his fingers tightened painfully around my wrists. I hissed and growled through my teeth, angry and scared as any caged wild animal.

  “He’s gone, Cat,” he croaked. Loki’s sadness was a nail in my chest. I stopped struggling and looked him in the face. I saw anger there, mirroring my own. Beneath it, though, I saw anguish. I knew it all too well. Deep beneath some frosty layer of denial, I felt that crushing sadness, too.

  A single tear traced down his bruised cheeks. “Marius is dead. I’m sorry.”

  I bit my lip until I tasted blood, then squeezed my eyes shut. More hot tears spilled down my face. Loki released his dampening hold on me, and a tide swallowed me. Air filled my lungs, power and sensation overwhelmed me. Then despair, my old friend.

  Before I could sink beneath the crushing weight of everything, Loki took me into a fierce embrace. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, his tenor quavering with the truth of it all. “He was my friend, too. I cared about him.”

  I shook my head. “Maybe you’re wrong.”

  “Pandora’s box,” Hephaestus said from the sofa.

  Gently, I pushed away, leaving Loki to wipe his eyes on the heel of his hand. The blacksmith hadn’t moved. He still sat on the couch with his head cradled in his hands. A lock of verdigris fell into his face.

  “What did you say?” I asked.

  “Pandora’s. Box.” His silver stare rose to meet me. “Do you remember what it contained?”

  “The evils of the world,” I answered. “Vice. Sin. Disease. All that stuff.”

  “And do you remember what was left when she finally closed it? What remained locked inside?”

  “Hope. But I don’t see what this has to do with—”

  “Has it never occurred to you to wonder why it was in the box to begin with? It would be like putting a virgin in a prison full of rapists and thugs. Why include hope in the same chest as all the vileness the world had yet to inherit?”

  After a moment of pondering, I said, “I don’t know.”

  “Because of all the blades a man can use upon himself, hope is the sharpest. It cuts the deepest. It is what you feel right now, a warm tingle at the very center of your heart. The ember.”

  “But you know him, Heph. Marius is smart. Wily. There could be a chance.”

  He let out a rueful laugh. “Even now you fan the ember. Take heed: If you breathe it to life, that fire will consume you, Catherine Sharp. Hope will do nothing but kill you slowly.”

  “You and I both know that the goat-legged sonofabitch loves himself far too much to just—”

  I stopped talking as Hephaestus drew a sword. Not out of fear of him striking me with it, but because of the blade itself. The saber gleamed in the light like a sharpened smile. I’d seen that same sword many times.

  “How… That’s Marius’s saber.”

  Balancing the sword in both hands, Heph nodded.

  “But, if you have it…” My brain hurt at all the different ways I could end that sentence. “What does it mean?”

  “Precisely what the Trickster has told you. It means our Marius is gone. He is beyond the veil.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  “No Phone”

  I didn’t know what to say. I had no idea if anything could be done so I focused on one thing I could control at a time. First, I stood up. Then I went to the bathroom and brushed my hair. Bit by bit, I put myself together. Clean, dry clothes. Chucks.

  By the time I’d gotten dressed, I felt more like myself and my mind started working on the unruly knot of this situation. Though something down to my very blood insisted the contrary, the evidence of Marius’s death was irrefutable. The blood in the water. The fact that his sword had returned to its maker. Loki’s honest grief.

  What a glory it must be when the gods themselves weep at your death, I thought.

  The god-forged cuff on my wrist was a cool, welcome weight. As I tidied up around the room, I found the silver poker chip that had once been Marius’s amulet. I’d meant to give it back to him, but had forgotten to take it with me when I met him for our date.

  If he’d had it, would he have…?

  No. I couldn’t think like that. Couldn’t question every little decision, wondering if he’d still be here if I’d turned left rather than right. There lies madness.

  I slid the chip into my hip pocket and plodded back into the sitting area. Heph was pacing with the slow tempo of a dirge while Loki slouched on the sofa. I plopped next to the Aesir and let out a long breath.

  “I suppose I should tell Malcom,” I said quietly. “And Llyr.”

  Loki nodded. “I’ll go with you.”

  I shook my head. “No. I’ll do it alone. But thank you,” I added quickly. “I appreciate the thought.”

  “Let me put it another way, Cat,” Loki said. “I’m coming with you.” The bruises on his face were dark and serious. So wrong on the God of Mischief.

  Heph sat do
wn in one of the chairs. The three of us were silent, numb.

  My gaze drifted out onto the terrace. A pall of clouds shrouded the sky over gray and choppy seas. What a strange pair we were, Loki and I. Friends divided by titles like god and mortal. Employer and employee. And yet, for all the tales of his lies and trickery, I never doubted that Loki would be anything less than honest with me if I posed a question he was able to answer. It was part of our strange respect for each other, I suppose. It was with this knowledge that I asked a very loaded, very dangerous question.

  “Where do they go?”

  “Back to the fire,” Hephaestus said. “From it we came; to it we must return.”

  Loki piped up from beside me. “If I’m not mistaken, you’ve been there yourself. Quite recently.”

  I hadn’t spoken of it to anyone. Loki was the first person to admit that I hadn’t just “given them a scare,” but that I’d actually died. Though the lessons and truths learned in that other place had already faded to obscurity, like the details of a dream, I would never forget the sense of wholeness that came with death. The memory of the warm meadow, the blissful place of love and light, wrapped me in its sweet embrace.

  Of course, this only made me think of Marius and waking in his arms.

  With a pang of grief, my heart began to ache. “Is it always like that?”

  Loki shrugged. “I’m not sure, Cat. Places like Hades, Heaven, the Nether, Hell…they all exist. They are very real, and very few beings come and go as they please.”

  “Hell? Is that where you think he is?” I choked out.

  “I don’t— Cat, I’d rather not know. I’d rather just imagine that Marius is hanging out in Elysium with a nymph or four.”

  My stomach hitched, and I whipped to face him, angry.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean— Fuck.” Weary, Loki pawed at his face. The Trickster gave me a weak laugh. “I should just shut up, shouldn’t I?”

  “It might be best,” I said. “But I do have a question for you.”

  “Lay it on me.”

  “I died, right?”