Lisa: April (Mystic Zodiac Book 4)

by Walker, Brandy

  “How do you know?”

  “I’ve talked to her. Hell, we spend more time together than most married couples. I feel like I know her inside and out. She grew up in a big family with a bunch of sisters and a couple of brothers. They all frolicked and played, enticing men and women to abandon their responsibilities. Lisa did too, at least for a little while. She tired of being interchangeable. She also tired of no one seeing her for who she was, and only seeing that typecast character of a nymph. She wanted more and she went out and got it. I admire her tenacity.”

  “Oh,” Griff said softly. “I didn’t know.”

  “Now you do, so can I please have the card? I’m serious about her Griff, and I’m past the point of caring what will happen. I need to tell her before I go insane. I can figure out what to do next depending on her reaction. But I swear, deep down I know it’ll be good.”

  Griff let go of the card they’d held between them. Jack quickly scanned it to see what it was all about. In bold black lettering it read:

  Your Fate is in your hand

  Chloe: 699-3283

  Jack flipped the card over. There wasn’t anything on the back. “You say Mrs. French gave this to you? Where’d she get it?”

  Griff shrugged and slouched in the chair. “I was walking by when she stopped me and handed me the card.”

  Jack hit the speaker button on his phone. “Mrs. French, could I see you a moment?”

  There was no reply, so he tried again. “Mrs. French?” An uneasy feeling started in the pit of Jack’s stomach. Before he could stand and check on his temporary assistant, Griff got to his feet.

  “I’ll check on her. You give that number a call. I just want you to be happy.” He left, closing the door behind him.

  Jack tapped the card on the desk, stalling. Too many thoughts bombarded him. The card could be a joke. The number on it a scam of some sort. The worst that could happen was someone would be sitting back laughing at him for falling for a prank. But how did Mrs. French know he was trying to get into Satyr? He hadn’t said anything to her, and he didn’t think Griff had either. They kept their conversations about the place confined to the office.

  But what if the person on the other end of the line could get him in? What if Chloe knew the answer to what he most wanted?

  There was only one way to find out.

  Picking up the receiver, he punched the speaker button and dialed the number. A woman with a husky voice answered after the first ring.

  “It took you long enough,” she said, irritation lacing her voice.

  “Um, my assistant, well temporary assistant, wait—who is this, and do you know who I am?”

  “You dialed me Jack, so you know who I am.”

  “You’re Chloe?” How the hell did she know who he was? Caller ID maybe.

  “Yes and to answer your question, I have my ways and, no, it isn’t caller ID. Whatever that is. Let’s get down to business. I have things to do today that do not involve talking on this…thing.”

  “My temporary assistant gave me your card and said you might be able to help me get into Satyr.”

  “My dear human, she did no such thing. She gave the card to your cute friend and told him I could help you.”

  “Same difference.”

  She sighed heavily. “The one you seek is at Satyr. She is checked in for the week. Your Mystic blood is too weak to gain you entrance. The research team won’t be able to verify your loose connection.”

  “Then you can’t help me,” he interrupted, aggravated by the conversation already.

  “You humans have no patience,” she bit out.

  The line went dead and Jack was left holding the receiver in his hand. He was staring dumbly at it when a warm swirl of air spread through his office. It flowed around him, licking at the exposed skin of his arms, up his neck, and fluttering over his face. His vision turned fuzzy, and he blinked rapidly to clear it, but to no avail. When it finally did clear, there was a tall, statuesque woman and a mountain of a man standing before him.

  Jack jumped from his seat, stumbling back in surprise. He dropped the phone and nearly tripped over his chair. “What the fuck?”

  “Watch your tongue,” the man snarled, his dark eyebrow lifting in warning.

  “Who the hell are you two?”

  The woman laughed. “Not from Hell, Jack. Not even close.” She turned to the man next to her. “Is he one of yours, Gabriel?”

  The man, Gabriel, focused dark eyes on him, giving Jack the feeling he was being judged. He stood rooted in place, the weight of the scrutiny keeping him from moving. After moments of intense visual inspection, Gabriel came around the desk and grabbed Jack’s right arm. He shoved the shirtsleeve up further, revealing the spear-shaped birthmark on the inside of his bicep.

  Gabriel nodded sharply and let go, stepping back to Chloe’s side. “He is. He bears my mark.”

  “So reckless, Gabriel. I wonder what the others would say,” she chided.

  Gabriel’s deep chuckle filled the room. “Nothing. I have done nothing they haven’t. How do you think we keep our ranks strong? This one’s blood is very diluted. His ancestors didn’t take advantage of the gift they were given.”

  Chloe rolled her deep brown eyes. Her lush mouth curved into a wicked grin. “Give him what he needs so he can go after the woman he loves,” she instructed.

  “You have approval?” Gabriel questioned.

  Jack had no idea what they were talking about or whom they really were. A thick current of power and energy flowed around them; suggesting they were more than the typical Mystic he’d run across over the years. The urge to bow before them pressed down hard, but he resisted—barely.

  “I don’t need approval, Gabriel. Do not forget it was I who brought Thane back into the fold with his lovely Eternal Amara. It is time for you to repay my generosity. I shall consider the debt paid and not bother you again—unless I feel a need.” She purred the words at the end and a bolt of sexual tension shot through the air, charging the room.

  “You play a dangerous game, Chloe.” Gideon’s lips curved into a wicked grin. “I wholly approve. If you win this bet, and after you’ve had your fun with Eros, come find me and see what it is like to be with a Great Watcher.”

  Chloe laughed and as quickly as the lust filled the office, it dissipated. “I may take you up on that. Now do get on with it.”

  “As you wish.” Gideon produced a small vial filled with dark pink liquid from the inside of his long jacket. Uncorking it, he handed it to Jack. “Drink this,” the man commanded, a heavy energy pressing him to comply.

  Jack took the vial without thought and tossed it back. Whatever he’d just drank was thick and sweet. It raced down his throat, turning into a ball of flame in his stomach before spreading through his limbs. The birthmark on his bicep burned. It was as if a hot branding iron was pressed against him, searing his skin. “Holy shit,” he gasped, tossing the vial on the desk. He pushed his sleeve up and what was once a pink-tinged mark was now a filigreed black spear with a pair of angel wings behind it. “What just happened? What did I just agree to?”

  Chloe’s husky laughter caressed his ears. “You probably should have asked before drinking the ambrosia. There’s no turning back now, my dear Jack.”

  “Welcome to the fold,” Gideon drawled. “The weak Mystic blood in your body has been strengthened ten fold. Your lifespan is increased and, while you aren’t immortal, you will thrive as long as you are with your nymph. That is if you can capture her attention. I’ve heard the word has gone out in Satyr that a bottled-up nymph is on the prowl. She’ll be in high demand, if she so chooses.”

  Jack’s eyes narrowed as rage filled him. “She’ll do no such thing,” he growled.

  “I suggest you go to her then,” Chloe said. “You will get immediate access when you show them the Mark of Gabriel on your arm. Good luck, Jack. You have until the end of the month to secure her love. I would hate for you to let me down. There’s no telling what would happen
to you then.” The words sounded like a warning, a threat if he didn’t get Lisa’s affection. He wasn’t worried though. Lisa would be his by the end of the week.

  The couple disappeared right before his eyes. The odd warmth and disturbed vision returning to normal as they vanished.

  Body numb, he fell into his chair, his mind reeling from what had just taken place. He buzzed his assistant, hoping like hell she would answer him.

  “Mrs. French?”

  “Yes, Mr. Morgan.”

  “Have Griff come to my office then join me, please.”

  “Of course, Mr. Morgan,” she responded through the speaker. A couple of minutes later, she walked through the door, followed by his friend.

  Hands clasped in front of her, head tipped up a notch, Jack studied the woman. There was a regal air to her. He’d noticed it before, but didn’t think anything of it. Wisdom and intellect reflected in her grey-blue eyes. A nudge of awareness filtered into his overwhelmed brain. She wasn’t human.

  “Did you know what would happen when I called that number, Mrs. French?”

  Her eyebrow arched. “I had an idea, Mr. Morgan.” Par for the course, she didn’t elaborate.

  He motioned to the seat in front of his desk. “Would you mind telling me?”

  With poise and grace, she sat in the chair, smoothing out her skirt before making eye contact with him. “The number I gave you was to help you in your quest to capture the nymph. I assumed when you called, Chloe would tell you how to go about it.”

  Jack snorted. It was something like that. “She appeared in my office with a man.”

  That news seemed to surprise her. “Oh! You were visited by one of the Fates?”

  “Is that what she is?”

  “I believe Chloe is what she is going by now. What did she want or do with you?”

  “The man claimed me as one of his and compelled me to drink…” Jack searched his desk for the vial. Picking it up, he held it out. “To drink a dark pink liquid from this.”

  Mrs. French gingerly took the vial from his hand and sniffed. A slow grin curled her mouth, taking years off her face. “Ambrosia.”

  “Yes,” he exclaimed. “That’s what she called it.”

  “It is the nectar of the Gods. You’ve been blessed, sir,” she said, her eyes dancing with delight. “What happened when you drank it?”

  “I felt like I was on fire on the inside. It started in my chest and traveled out to my arms and legs.” He pulled his right sleeve up, showing her the brand in his arm. “My birthmark changed from a faded pink blob to this.”

  Mrs. French gasped. Her mouth popping open into an exaggerated O.

  “What is it?” He asked, because he still wasn’t too sure.

  She reached out and he thought she meant to touch the mark, but she stopped, curling her fingers and drawing away. “You bear the Mark of Gabriel, one of the Great Watchers. You have the blood of an archangel in your veins.”

  Okay. He vaguely remembered something about archangels, and he’d definitely heard the name Gabriel before. “What does that mean?”

  “I’m not sure what you mean?” She said, clearly confused by his question.

  “Does this get me closer to what I’ve wanted for damn near three years?”

  Mrs. French laughed lightly. “It does, my dear boy. That mark will open doors you didn’t even know existed. Getting into Satyr will not be difficult at all.” She stood, bowing slightly before turning to leave.

  “One more question, Mrs. French.”

  She looked at him over her shoulder.

  “What type of Mystic are you?”

  “I am a Sila. A type of Djinn, or as humans like to call us—a genie.”

  “I’ve never heard of a Sila.”

  “I would expect not. We are rare and while we are meddlesome, we only do it in an attempt to help.”

  “So you being here wasn’t a coincidence.”

  “Nothing ever is, Mr. Morgan,” she said slyly as she walked out the door.

  “Wait, Mrs. French, I have…” He trailed off, surprised to see her disappear in a puff of smoke.

  “I will never get used to Mystic powers,” Griff said, shaking his head.

  “I suggest you try. I think I just became one.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  April 6th, 6:00pm

  SATYR

  Jack promised Griff he’d wait until after work to head to Satyr. Their conversation after Mrs. French vanished before their eyes had been…interesting. Griff wasn’t as familiar with Mystics. He knew they existed. Knew some worked for them, but he had the more laid back attitude of what he didn’t know, couldn’t hurt him. Jack wanted to blame it on the more sheltered life Griff had growing up, but that could only go so far. He and Griff were thirty. They owned a company together. It was time to open his eyes to the greater world around him.

  Now that Jack, for all intents and purposes, was a Mystic; he hoped Griff’s attitude would change. That wasn’t something Jack could worry about at the moment. He had much more pressing issues to deal with. Like a certain nymph thinking she could give herself to another man.

  Climbing into his sleek sports car, he flung his overnight bag into the passenger seat. He made a beeline straight to his condo after his last meeting of the day. Griff knew not to expect him the rest of the week and, thanks to Lisa’s insightful scheduling, Jack wasn’t actually needed.

  Speeding across town, he arrived at Satyr within fifteen minutes. He pulled into the valet parking area, grabbed his bag, handed his valet key over, and took the ticket from the young man drooling over his car. “It’ll be here until Friday.”

  As the man passed by him and uttered yes sir, Jack’s senses came to life. He smelled the woods after a heavy rain, wet loam and pine; the earthy scents were strong but not overpowering. He turned to look at the kid as he climbed into the car. He was tall, with whipcord leanness to his body. A narrow, long face framed by shaggy brown hair that immediately made him think wolf. Jack shook his head at the vision and made his way inside.

  He knew from the many times he’d driven past Satyr that it had two main entrances. One leading to the club, and one leading to the retreat side for the patrons utilizing rooms for overnights or longer periods of time. Jack headed into the retreat side. He figured he’d have a better chance of finding Lisa if he started there.

  The huge glass doors slid open silently. As he stepped through, it was like stepping into another world. The lobby was done in elegant shades of deep red and rich dark woods. High ceilings, frescoes, throne chairs, and white marble added to the opulence. Dim lighting and soft music pumped through hidden speakers. And the light scent of lavender wafted through the air.

  “Welcome to Retreat Satyr,” a distinguished older man greeted him. “If I could see your membership, sir.”

  “I don’t have a membership yet. This is my first time here.”

  The man sniffed subtly, but it didn’t escape Jack’s attention. Was he trying to tell by smell if Jack had Mystic in him? “If you’ll follow me, please.”

  The man did an about face, leading Jack down a hall he hadn’t noticed before. They stopped ten feet in. The attendant faced the wall and placed his hand next to a picture of a large oak tree. A secret panel opened silently before him.

  They walked into a room with a stout, little man sitting at the desk. “Hello, Henry.”

  “Mr. Farnsworth, this is the first time the gentleman has been here, and he doesn’t have membership.”

  “I see,” Mr. Farnsworth replied. “Are you new to the city or merely visiting?”

  “I’ve lived here my entire life,” Jack answered.

  Mr. Farnsworth sighed heavily. “Have you come here on a whim? This is a place for Mystics only. No humans allowed.”

  “I know. My application is being processed.”

  “Then you know that you must wait until we conclude our investigation before you can come here.”

  “I do. I talked to the membership liaison earlier
in the day. But my circumstances changed this afternoon, and I was told I would get instant access now.”

  Mr. Farnsworth’s thick, white bushy eyebrows rose. “Interesting. Most Mystics know they are one. Our circumstances do not change.”

  Jack dropped his bag to the floor before pulling up the sleeve on his T-shirt baring his branded bicep. “Mine did.”

  The little man’s eyes popped open wide. He scrambled out of his chair and grabbed something off the floor underneath his desk. He plopped a step stool down in front of Jack and climbed up. His stubby little fingers grabbed hold of Jack’s arm, pulling him closer. “This is freshly made,” he murmured. “Henry, grab my magnifying glass out of the top drawer, please.”

  Without taking his eyes off Jack’s arm, Mr. Farnsworth snatched the glass from Henry’s hand when he brought it over. “Yes, yes,” he muttered. “Freshly made. That’s why I couldn’t tell. The Mark of Gabriel. You’re from his blood. Must have been a few generations back.”

  Mr. Farnsworth climbed off the stool and gathered it up. He walked back to his desk and replaced the step stool before sitting down. “We don’t see many of you often. Most descendents with diluted blood don’t ever know what they are. You must have pleased the Gods somehow.”

  Jack didn’t know what he’d done to warrant the attention. Was there some kind of crash course he could take on being a Mystic? There had to be rules and regulations they followed. Jack let his thoughts run away from him as he watched the peculiar little man.

  Farnsworth unlocked a drawer, before pulling out a sheet of gold paper. He loaded it into a printer then typed away at his computer.

  “Place your hand on the pad please,” Farnsworth commanded after a few minutes. The upper corner of his desk lit up jerking Jack’s attention back to the present.

  He did as he was told, placing his hand on the cool metal pad. Seconds later, Jack was handed his new membership card and was following Henry out the hidden door.

  “I’ll take you to the registration desk, sir. I’m sure they’ll have no problem finding you a room.”

  Jack stopped Henry before they made it there. “Actually, my girlfriend is here for a week and doesn’t know I’m here. Honestly, she doesn’t know about the Mystic thing either. I haven’t had a chance to tell her. I wanted to surprise her. Is there a way we can track her down, maybe send my bag to her room if she’s on the Club side?”