The Cursed Satyroi: Volume One Collection

by Rebekah Lewis

  “So you’re the god my dear brother calls a friend?” Bitterness colored Ariston’s brother’s words. Pan wondered if the man merely disliked him on sight or if there was bad blood between the twins. Perhaps he took issue with the gods in general. The best option would be to ignore it, as he already made a mess of things earlier and didn’t need to stir up more unnecessary trouble.

  He tried to be cordial. “I was unaware Ariston had a brother at all. What is your name, mortal?” Still, he couldn’t help himself. The words hit their mark, and the man curled his perfectly formed upper lip.

  “Surely you’ve heard of me, though you have never seen my face. Ariston never mentions me because he loathes living in my shadow.”

  “Narcissus! How wonderful to meet you. Seen any good reflections lately? And by the way, I have seen your face. Many times. If I knew Ariston had such a burden to bear, sharing his face, I would have taken him far, far away from here to escape.” As anticipated, the barb was dead on.

  Ariston quickly disguised an outburst of laughter with a fit of coughs, earning an icy glare from his brother, who stomped past Pan, shoving him hard on his way by. Strong resolve for a mortal to push a god, as most would have killed him for it. Pan was sorely tempted, but the only thing that kept him from smiting the human on the spot was Syrinx. It would not do to infuriate Dionysus right away.

  “Never a dull moment when you’re around. Don’t mind Adonis. He’s angry with me because he was practically a love slave to Aphrodite for several fortnights now—I lose count how long—and when she discovered he had a twin, she wanted a matching set. I refused, and she discarded him because she couldn’t have her way.” Ariston leaned back against a tree trunk and observed his brother’s retreating form with a frown. “He was too attached to her, I think.”

  So that was the infamous Adonis. Goddesses and nymphs had been whispering about the mortal’s physical perfection in awe for about as long as Ariston had said Adonis had been with Aphrodite. Pan would bet those same people were not aware he had a twin either. “Aphrodite tends to do that to men. Why did you bring him here of all places?”

  Ariston sighed. “I’d mentioned it to him, mostly in passing. As a way to bring him out among other people again. Instead of moving on, he’s hoping to make Aphrodite jealous by showering himself with nymphs. He said I owed it to him to come along and participate in order to doubly irritate the goddess.”

  “Is he not afraid Aphrodite will retaliate with hostility?” Pan observed as Adonis spoke to the tall, dark-haired man Pan had met the night before as he was arriving, and the man was rushing off in a hurry. Melancton, if he remembered the name correctly, was a warrior; he still wore his leathered armor. There were several scars on the man’s arms, including a jagged one down the inside of his left forearm. Adonis motioned around to the small crowd, probably questioning where the nymphs were. Melancton shrugged and moved on, his eyes scanning the trees as though expecting someone.

  “He’s not exactly thinking with the head upon his shoulders at the moment. If Aphrodite arrives to murder us both, I am counting on you to protect me.” When Pan snorted, Ariston interrupted, “I’m serious. I will give a blood oath to serve you for the remainder of my days if I have to. I don’t want to die over a foolish man’s indignity about being turned out of a goddess’ bed, even if that man is my flesh and blood.”

  The conversation never made it any further. Dionysus appeared on his earthen dais and greeted his followers. “I’m sure you may have noticed the lack of female companions.” Murmurs throughout the crowd of men assented that, yes, they had noticed. “Do not fret. They will come after the ceremony. I forbade the nymphs’ entrance to this area until the tribute has been paid.” In short, no one had sex until Dionysus was through with Syrinx.

  He droned on and on about how Syrinx, promised bride of Silenus, was given the “honor” of sacrificing her virginity to a god. What honor was there in being forced to have sex as entertainment for men, by men? Pan had learned through the whispers around him that Syrinx’s brother, Pavlo of Thebes, had offered her as a wife to Silenus in order to gain access to the depravity of Dionysus’ wild nights. And in turn, Silenus had promised Dionysus he could be the first to bed his beautiful bride-to-be.

  Pan was sickened by the lot of them. Nobody at all seemed to spare a thought for Syrinx, as virgins were offered to gods all the time as a sign of respect. He’d lost count of the number offered up to Apollo on a regular basis.

  Dionysus snapped his fingers. Klytie and Daphne, both dressed in white, appeared as though they’d stepped out of the trees themselves. Syrinx followed behind them, eyes downcast as she lifted the hem of her peplos to avoid stepping on it. Silenus leered at her as a jackal would a juicy piece of meat. With his enhanced vision, Pan spied multiple nymphs shy of the tree line. When a mortal male turned in their direction, the nymph disappeared into a tree or seemed to shrink into the form of a flower to stay hidden, fearing Dionysus’ displeasure at their disobedience. They came to watch.

  Pan gritted his teeth as Syrinx spread herself upon the flat surface of the limestone boulder he had lounged on the night before. The crowd waited on baited breath, some men more excited than others about watching a woman having sex on the uncomfortable surface with a male who likely wouldn’t even bother to ensure she was wet and willing before shoving his prick inside her. His narrow-eyed glare caught Syrinx’s gaze and her lips parted, like she hadn’t expected to see him there. She quickly glanced away.

  Disgusted, Pan couldn’t watch. He’d run out of time to save Syrinx from her fate, as Dionysus was a much older, much more powerful deity than him. Pan didn’t even know what all he could manage with his magic, had not taken Hermes and Zeus seriously when they’d demanded he remain in Olympus and experiment rather than galloping into the mortal world unaware of his own strengths. Never before had he regretted his decision of leaving Olympus, but he did now.

  Where a few men around him looked intrigued by the display on the boulder, others, like Ariston, appeared uncomfortable. Many—like Melancton, the prince, and the guards with him him—refused to watch and waited for the act to be over with. Syrinx’s brother, who didn’t resemble his sister at all with his light coloring, dark eyes, and short stature, stared at the ground, arms crossed, dejected. Pan wondered if Pavlo hadn’t known he would be forced to witness the act, and he probably hadn’t anticipated Silenus sharing her, let alone publicly. Honestly, Pan hoped this night haunted the man forever.

  Torn between the desire to leave, wanting to flash to her side and rescue her, and knowing all he could do was watch as the event unfolded before him, Pan felt his heart breaking for Syrinx. He’d just met her, but he’d been a dreamer. He’d foolishly hoped to have some great affair, lasting years, possibly even her whole lifetime, before he ceased enjoying her. Perhaps he was no better than Apollo or Dionysus in his possessiveness, and he really was the same as the other Olympians, despite his departure from their realm at a young age. He’d been selfish, full of himself, and had taken without thought of consequence.

  Torn fabric drew his attention back to the scene before him. Dionysus ripped Syrinx’s peplos straight down the front and was practically salivating at her breasts. Syrinx, gods protect her, focused above her on the stars. Pan’s heart clenched. The stars were there for her too. The constant that never faltered.

  Dionysus stiffened suddenly, sitting up as he peered down at the girl with a fierce expression mixed with surprise. Pan took a step forward. He should probably interfere before it went any farther, but Ariston grabbed hold of his arm and shook his head. He didn’t have to speak to tell him it was a bad idea to disrupt a Dionysian ceremony. Not when the god in question could hurt the woman at his mercy.

  Frowning, Dionysus leaned in and sniffed Syrinx’s neck and backed away as though burned. He removed himself from the rock and, almost comically, gawked at Syrinx, the others, and back again. With a brisk shake of his head, he bellowed, “This is no human virgin. I have bee
n deceived. She is a nymph, and she’s given her virtue to another!”

  Syrinx clutched the ripped material to her chest, covering herself as best she could. Tears ran down her face, and Pan felt like the lowest of villains to ever live. It was all his fault, and he was powerless to stop it from escalating. He should have run off with her, faced Dionysus, and fought for her. Murdered Silenus and Pavlo for their role in her fate. He’d not known his powers, true, but he’d not even tried. Instead, he continued to make excuse after excuse not to do a thing to help her.

  You’re doing it even now.

  “She is impure,” Dionysus announced, and whirled on Syrinx. “You little whore.” She flinched. “Who defiled you? Who would dare?” When she didn’t answer, he turned on Klytie and Daphne, both watching the scene with ashen faces.

  Suddenly it dawned on Pan what Dionysus had said before. Syrinx was a nymph? But how? She had been human that morning. He scrutinized Daphne and Klytie and opened his sense. Definitely nymphs, and... Interestingly, Daphne was immortal. Someone had given her ambrosia.

  Then he turned his senses toward Syrinx. That morning everything about her had been human. But now, the same aura of magic surrounded her as Klytie—one that didn’t exist that morning. She was a nymph, without a doubt. Pan wondered if that was the difference he had noted when he feared he’d gotten her with child. He hadn’t figured it out because he already sensed the other nymphs. Did he somehow turn Syrinx into a nymph with his seed? Had it happened before? His mind reeled.

  It was possible he had tapped into a power he hadn’t realized he possessed. He lived in the forests of Arcadia, which were inhabited with many nymphs, so he had a natural affinity for them. But for a mere human to become one after being intimate with him...it had to be something he’d done. Nothing else made sense.

  “Who did it?” Dionysus shouted, his face molten. He was so livid with the fury and the humiliation of being tricked that the ground he walked on quivered beneath him. The nymphs didn’t answer his question. Instead, they swore Syrinx had been pure and human that morning when they’d attended her. But the god was no fool.

  Dionysus grabbed Klytie by the throat as he glared down at Daphne. He smiled cruelly and stomped his foot, opening a chasm which split the ground wide for several feet. “You will tell me,” he told Daphne, “or you will be next.” He dropped Klytie into the pit. The ground sealed itself immediately, cutting off the nymph’s scream and leaving only silence in her wake. A blue-violet hyacinth sprung into bloom within seconds, marking the death of a nymph by her body becoming one with nature indefinitely. Pan had seen it happen before, and because of Klytie’s death there, hyacinths would always grow in that spot no matter how many times the roots were removed.

  Daphne shrieked and collapsed, and then she dug at the earth with her hands, raking through the soil, refusing to believe Klytie was dead. Dionysus lifted her by her hair, and yanked her to her feet to face him. “Tell me!”

  “It was Pan,” Daphne wailed, pointing. The onlookers parted out of the scorching path of Dionysus’ wrath, all staring at Pan in shock. Ariston gaped at him. Men he met briefly before, Silas and Orestes, looked startled. While other men he’d never met spoke incoherently to each other, shaking their heads and driving home the shame. Pavlo glared daggers at him, attempting murder with a look, projecting the blame on Pan. Silenus sneered, but then everyone knew the drunkard enjoyed altercations and considered them entertaining. Even Melancton frowned at him, but he seemed agitated too, though it was hard to tell.

  “You dare to defy my will?” Dionysus let the nymph go and took several steps in Pan’s direction. The humans present moved farther aside, leaving the two gods in the middle. They circled around to witness the drama unfolding, the audience to the making of a Greek tragedy.

  Pan could deny having knowledge of Syrinx’s identity when he took her, but then it would be apparent she’d deliberately disobeyed Dionysus’ wishes.

  “Nothing to say for yourself?”

  There was no use in trying to remain civil. Dionysus had already murdered an innocent female for no reason, and it was unacceptable. Pan wanted to keep Syrinx and Daphne out of harm’s way if he could. Past Dionysus, he saw Daphne crying on Melancton’s shoulder. Behind him, Syrinx sat, half hidden on the other side of the boulder, forgotten for the moment.

  Pan was often considered a trickster, but he’d always avoided confrontation if possible. He’d never killed for the sake of it, and hadn’t ever taken a human or immortal life. They weren’t his to take. He killed animals for food on the rare occasions he ate, but found no purpose in hunting for any other reason. Dionysus had demonstrated with Klytie that there was no life he found valuable except for his own. So he decided if Dionysus wanted to go down the, I’m-a-powerful-god path, then so would he. Pan smiled, knowing it would only piss Dionysus off, and it did.

  “If you want to cover the facts here, old friend, I am a nature god.”

  “What relevance does that make?”

  “You are the god of wine and excess. I am a god of nature. Nymphs are nature spirits, and therefore fall under my protection, or possession, should I deem it necessary to offer it.” His smile grew wider the redder the other god’s face became. “She was human until I spilled my seed in her. I made her a nymph. I believe that makes her mine in every way.” He couldn’t help himself and added, “Having sex with me gave her magical abilities and enhanced stamina. I am that good.”

  He had no idea how he turned Syrinx into a nymph, but the other god didn’t need to know that. And Pan wished he’d thought about his role in the balance of power sooner. Not wanting to cause a rift between their somewhat of a friendship—neither really liked the other very much, though they were cordial in the past—he’d not considered the fact that the nymphs were not Dionysus’ to give. Not until then.

  True, most nymphs felt inclined to do as Dionysus asked of them because their kind had nursed him to health after the Titan queen, Rhea, brought him back to life. He’d been torn to pieces and proclaimed dead at a young age. As traumatic as that had to have been, Pan had never heard of an instance of violence being used against nymphs by the wine god, but he had murdered Klytie right in front of him and the others. Everything would change because of that one action.

  Pan never cared about his powers or what he was “the god of” before. Poseidon claimed the whole blasted ocean. Hades named the underworld after himself. Pan should have been protecting the nymphs who lived in his forests, but he hadn’t. Instead, he ran about fucking anyone he could and humming songs to help the herdsmen with their work. Playing pranks on innocent mortals amused him, and he had no worries except for dreading the next time Hermes would show up and aggravate him. He hadn’t grown into his role in the hierarchy of the immortal gods, and perhaps if he had, tonight could have been avoided. But what could have been wouldn’t fix the present.

  Dionysus took advantage of his distraction, and if Pan had blinked, it would have been too late. He raised his hands to the heavens, and the sound of his voice echoed through the trees. “Let it be known the god Pan will from this day become the lecherous beast he is in his heart—”

  Pan quickly raised his arms out in front of him like a shield. Impulsively, he yelled back, “Let this curse begot upon me reverse back upon the one who spoke it!” His exclamation drowned out the rest of Dionysus’ words. But as their voices overlapped, the air crackled with an electric charge and the sulfuric smell of Hades was detectable in the air. It felt like they had shot Zeus’ lightning bolts at each other, and the force of the power meeting between them ricocheted outward in every direction.

  The invisible blast struck him in the gut and the ground vanished from under him. Seconds later, he landed on his back ten feet away from where he’d been. He thought he’d countered Dionysus’ curse effectively, but the victory was short-lived. Within seconds, his head and legs felt like the bones within were trying to escape his skin. Glancing up, he saw his counterattack had knocked Dionysus ov
er as well. The wine god peeled himself off the ground, dazed. All around them, the men present were groaning and gripping their heads. Syrinx and Daphne stood outside the circle of men, watching in horror at what continued to transpire.

  Pan touched his scalp, and his hand hit something rock solid that didn’t belong there. Horns.

  He had horns like an animal would have spiraling out from the side of his head. The others had them too. Some curled like Pan’s, and some men had two straight, sharp horns shooting up off the top of their heads. Strangely, all of the ones with straight horns were behind Dionysus. It looked as though the men behind Pan received the curse as he did, but when Pan attempted to block it, what struck the other god also hit the men behind Dionysus.

  Yet Dionysus himself appeared to be unaffected.

  Pan’s legs itched. He reached to scratch them and was startled to discover a small creature lying on top of his leg. No... There wasn’t a creature at all.

  He gaze shot down. Dark, coarse fur sprouted along the lower portion of his legs. It thinned to the normal amount when it reached his thighs. Around him, shocked outbursts alerted him he wasn’t the only one experiencing the deformity. Suddenly his bones snapped and reformed below his knees. He bit his tongue, tasting metallic blood, to keep from crying out like the mortals. His toes shriveled and disappeared into his flesh with ten sick pops. The balls of his feet hardened and grew darker until black hooves remained. Then they split down the center, becoming cloven like a goat’s.

  Dionysus laughed. “Well, this is an unforeseen twist. Now you shall all look like the animals you are for eternity, and you can thank Pan for it since his counter curse failed to do more than curse everyone.” He brushed off his golden Olympian robe as though he’d merely gotten a little dust on himself in the event.