Wild Card (Etudes in C# Book 1)

by Jamie Wyman

  “Marius, where are my pants?”

  His grin widened. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

  “Yes,” I said, “I would like to know. And while you’re at it you can tell me why you took them off to begin with.”

  Reclining in his chair and putting his bare feet up on the table, Marius sipped black elixir from a mug, mischief dancing in his eyes.

  “They’re on the sofa,” he said simply.

  Sure enough, my jeans were draped over an arm of the red couch. I couldn’t just lean out of the bed and snag them. I would have to get up and walk in full view of the satyr in nothing more than a T-shirt and panties.

  As if he’d read my mind he said, “You have no need to be modest, I’ve seen your underthings. I must say, I was pleasantly surprised. I didn’t figure you for a pink-and-lacy type. But really, Hello Kitty?” He clucked his tongue. “Poor choice there.”

  My face burned with embarrassment. I mustered what little dignity I could and steeled myself for the humiliating walk across the room. As soon as I stood up, my left knee buckled under me. I stumbled and dropped back down to the mattress, hissing with pain. Marius left his seat by the window and flitted off to the bathroom. A moment later he returned with a plastic bag full of ice.

  “And that,” he said, “is precisely why I relieved you of your trousers. Come on,” he ordered as he offered me his arm. “Sit here and get yourself a proper meal.”

  Marius helped me up and supported me as I shuffle-limped over to the table. Pants could wait, I realized. For one, due to his impairment, it wasn’t as if he could throw me against the wall and ravage me. Furthermore, he’d seen me half naked and was now helping me around the room. My humiliation was complete.

  With my good leg, I hooked my foot around the adjacent chair and pulled it a little closer. Bad knee propped up and the ice pack on top, I turned my attention to a more pressing need.

  “Bacon.” I pointed to the covered dishes. “Now.”

  “My, but you are a delight in the morning!”

  He selected a couple of the dishes from the cart and set them on the table before us. As he removed the covers, steam and decadent aromas flew into the air. A short stack dripped with butter and maple syrup next to three strips of crispy bacon, a heap of scrambled eggs, and a few sausage links. I slid a plate toward me and set to stuffing my face. It wasn’t ladylike in the slightest, and I didn’t give a damn.

  “So,” I said around my meat candy, “you stripped my pants to play doctor?”

  “Well, when I got into bed last night, your knee was giving off more heat than Hades’s scrotum. Impossible to get comfortable next to that. I stripped off your jeans—slowly, of course—slapped some ice on you, and finally managed to get a few hours of uninterrupted sleep.” He brought his mug to his face then stopped to add, “You’ve got fantastic legs, by the way.”

  I blushed and filled the awkward silence with more food. After I’d appeased my grumbling belly, I asked, “We shared the bed?”

  “Of course! Did you think I’d trade a king-sized mattress and Egyptian cotton for that rock of ages they call a sofa? I may not be able to enjoy the bed like you, but I certainly don’t need to make things worse for myself.” He downed the rest of his java. “And another thing,” he said, his empty cup clattering against the table. “You snore.”

  “There’s the selfish bastard I know and despise,” I said. “You were being so nice I was starting to worry.”

  Marius blinked. “Incredible,” he said, “I save you from freakish monsters, faeries, and a swollen knee and I’m selfish?”

  “You were saving your own ass.”

  “I—well, all right, that’s true, but I helped you, too. And see? I ordered breakfast like a good date should. What did you do besides drool on your pillow? Hmm?”

  I pondered my bacon, pushing aside all thoughts of the night before. As I lifted my eyes, I noticed the wound on Marius’s left arm. The wakwak’s beak had torn a six-inch slash along his biceps. Around the cut itself, the flesh puckered in angry reds and sickly purples.

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  “Hmm?” When he followed my eyes to the scabbing wound, he said casually, “It’s healing along. Another day or two and you won’t even know it was there.”

  I let my eyes drift over his body. Marius wasn’t ridiculously buff or anything, but with toned arms, nice abs, and a defined, firm chest, he pulled off the shirtless look. A bit of black hair curled at his sternum, and his olive complexion was set off well with the black silk of his pajama bottoms. He hadn’t bothered with a ponytail. Ogling him, I realized I could come up with a few fantasies of my own, no satyr magic required.

  My face wrinkled in confusion. “Where did you get those pants?” I asked.

  “Did you expect I’d sleep in the suit? No, thank you. But in deference to your prudish sensibilities, I glamoured myself a pair of trousers. See? I’m not completely self-centered.”

  “Magic pants?”

  “Without them I’m starkers. Shall I show you?”

  “No, I think I prefer the pants.”

  “Suit yourself.”

  For a bit we each tucked into our food. Pancakes crumbled at the ruthless whims of our forks. The plates were nearly clean when Marius dabbed at his mouth with a napkin.

  “So, while I was showering last night, did Maui have anything interesting to say?”

  Savoring the last of my breakfast, I replayed my conversation with the god in my head. “Apparently, no one trusts Eris. Go fucking figure. He wanted to make sure I’m a worthy bet.”

  “And yours is the only soul in the pot, yes?”

  I nodded. “You’re safe.”

  “Excellent. Anything else?”

  “Only that Anansi folded early. Oh, and Maui gave me his chip.”

  The satyr picked a link of sausage off of my plate. “That’s good news. You can get the two remaining chips without any problem.”

  “Yeah, easy.” I snorted. “Just get something from Puck and Loki. Dahlia came to collect last night, and I haven’t the faintest idea what Loki’s doing.”

  “Ah, don’t worry about him. Loki is lazy. Probably doesn’t care one way or the other. Knowing him, he will just wait to see what everyone else does in the meantime.”

  I shrugged. I’d never dealt with Loki or his Norse companions, so I’d have to defer to the satyr’s judgment on this one. But the Fae I knew. Thinking of Dahlia, I pushed my eggs around on the plate, no longer in the mood to eat.

  “What about the Fae?” I asked. “Last night it didn’t seem like they wanted to get together for a bit of milk and honey.”

  “About that,” he said clearing his throat. “Unless my ears deceived me, I believe I heard Dahlia order her friends to kill me last night.”

  “Don’t flatter yourself, Marius. Dahlia says the same thing about almost everyone she meets.”

  “That hardly makes me feel any better, now does it? No, Catherine, I think it’s best if you go play with them by yourself.”

  My stomach flopped and twisted at the idea of facing the Fae alone. I also didn’t like that I wanted to keep Marius around. Suppressing a shudder I put down my fork. “Look, you promised to help me get to the bottom of this.”

  “Yes, and I helped you right to the bottom of an elevator shaft and up to this lovely suite.”

  “This isn’t finished,” I snapped.

  “As far as I can tell, my part of it is. Maui answered all of your questions, and now it’s merely a matter of you getting these little trinkets from a couple of gods and taking them to Eris.” A smug smile fluttered at the edges of his mustache, but he otherwise appeared sincere. “My work here is done.”

  I gaped at him, speechless. I couldn’t avoid it, no matter how much I wanted to. He’d followed our deal to the letter. What burned, though, was that I’d never make it through to the end of this mess without assistance. I knew it, and against all things sane and holy, Marius was right.

  I dropped my
eyes to the table then spoke, my voice small. “I need your help.”

  “I’m sorry, what was that?” He put a hand to his ear. “I couldn’t quite hear.”

  “I need your help,” I snarled.

  Casually stalling to let me simmer in my own anger, Marius hummed to himself and poured another cup of coffee. With a carefree smirk, he added a bit of cream and stirred it around. Over the brim of his mug he gave me a twinkling, mischievous look. “I do believe you said you need me.”

  Exasperated, I rolled my eyes and flung my napkin down on the table. “Yes, Marius, I need you.”

  Smiling smugly, he plucked up another bit of sausage. “Could you say it again?” he asked around the bite of pork. “And this time could you slow it down and make it a bit more breathy? Maybe add a pout.”

  “For fuck’s sake, Marius!”

  “Now hold on there,” he said holding up a hand. “I’ll help. Just stop being such a bitter harpy, all right? Of course, there is the matter of payment to discuss.”

  “I’ve already said I’ll go on a date with you,” I said through my teeth. “What the hell do you want now?”

  For an answer, he popped his eyebrows.

  “No,” I said. “I’m not sleeping with you.”

  “I don’t recall asking you to.” He shook his head. “No, Catherine, when we have our date, I swear on my honor that I will not use magic to seduce you. You and you alone will decide where you sleep. Assuming you choose to sleep at all.”

  My cheeks flared as I remembered the encounter in the elevator. My skin rippled with chills at the memory of his lips so close to mine. With a throb of desire, other parts of my body began to respond to the idea, but I didn’t give a good goddamn what those regions had to say. They make bad decisions.

  The quirk of his smile told me he’d noticed. I suppose it would be ridiculous to try to hide such a thing as arousal from a satyr.

  “What do you want?” I asked, my voice barely a breath.

  His eyes locked onto mine. For the first time I noticed they were a dull green, like worn money or the underside of a leaf. Riveted, I leaned forward, waiting to hear his terms.

  “What are you prepared to offer?”

  “If it’s money you’re after, I am sorry to disappoint you.”

  Marius waved off the idea. “I put in a call or two to some of my contacts this morning while you were snoring like a lumberjack. I know where you need to go to find Puck, and I have an in with Asgard. That kind of information—particularly for someone in your position—is worth more than money.”

  “I don’t know what it is you expect me to give you, Marius. I don’t have anything.”

  “Are you so certain of that?” He took another drink without breaking eye contact. “Mage?”

  A shiver coursed through me. Get used to the title, I thought. This is the new normal.

  I gave a feeble laugh. “What? You want tech support?”

  Marius sighed and put down his mug. As he stood, the silk of his magic pants flowed and rippled with suggestive shapes. “Well, Catherine, it looks like you and I have nothing further to discuss.”

  Shit. “Wait, where are you going?”

  “I’ll call you next week.” He padded toward the door. “You can let me know how this all turned out over dinner. I’m thinking Thursday night.”

  Mentally I scrambled for something—anything—I could use to barter for Marius’s further aid. Goddamn, satyr. No wonder Zeus cursed him.

  Oh…now there was an idea.

  Marius’s hand was on the doorknob when I blurted out, “I’ll fix you.”

  He stopped, his body stock-still. With a glance over his shoulder, face sober, he asked, “What did you just say?”

  “Your curse. I’ll lift it.”

  Calm as the eye of a storm, he didn’t move. I could see the gears turning in his head. “How?”

  Okay, there was that. I had no clue how I could accomplish it, but if I could rewire computer systems and dead servers, couldn’t I fix a broken satyr? I’d figure that part out later. Right now, I needed him to not walk out that door.

  “It’s what I do,” I said with my most confident smile. “I fix things.” I remembered how Marius had appeared at times to be made up of cracks and fissures, so I added, “I can see how the curse looks on you. With enough time, I think I can break it.”

  “You think?”

  I nodded.

  Marius walked away from the door, fingers stroking his goatee. “You think…” He sat at the table again, regarding me with a hard, calculating stare. “I know that I have something of value to you. You think you can free me of this curse. That is hardly a balanced bargain. Can you or can’t you, Catherine?”

  “I can,” I said, my throat tight around the lie. I clenched my fists, willing him to ignore my treachery. Just say you’ll stay.

  Marius licked his lips and curled his fingers over the table. His tone was both eager and hesitant. “I help you through the end of the game and you will cure me of this?”

  “Yes,” I said. “Before our date,” I added, hoping to appeal to his need.

  “Promise it, Catherine. Swear it.”

  “I swear.”

  “Then on my own honor, I swear to do my part.”

  As we shook hands, I tried to keep my sigh from sounding too much like relief.

  “Pleasure doing business with you,” he said brightly.

  Taking the ice pack off my knee, I tossed it into his lap. “How would you know?”

  Marius yelped at the lump of ice on his junk. I sniggered as I limped to the sofa.

  “Hey!” he said, throwing the ice pack. “You may call them magic pants but that doesn’t mean they keep my bits from shrinking in the cold.”

  I grabbed my bag and mustered as much swagger as my knee would allow. As I closed the door to the bathroom, I heard him yell, “Don’t think I won’t get you for this!”

  The sound of hot water drowned out his protests as I filled the gargantuan whirlpool. I needed to find Puck, the Faery trickster, and convince him to give me the poker chip before he decided to end me. I also had to steer clear of Dahlia if I didn’t want to kill her. After that was the simple task of finding a god who took care to ensure he wasn’t found.

  Great.

  ***

  After a good soak, my knee loosened to the point that I could walk without gimping around. I put on fresh clothes, washed my face, brushed my teeth, and by the end of it all, I felt human again.

  I rummaged through my pack and found a few of Flynn’s inventions. He’d given me his own version of a stun gun the size of a Chapstick tube, and a few other goodies that would ensure I got out of any jam. I pocketed them. The last thing I wanted was to get mobbed by more Fae or whatever Loki might send my way—Valkyrie?—and have to flail about with the backpack to defend myself. Then I tucked the two poker chips—Maui’s and Coyote’s—into my hip pocket and stepped back out into the hotel room.

  Marius wasn’t there. For a split-second I panicked that the satyr had gone back on his promise to help me. Then I remembered that as much as I needed him, he needed me. Both of us craved our freedom, and we couldn’t get it alone. Rather than worry, I slipped into one of the chairs and gazed out the window at my city.

  Like a watercolor painting, the hues of dusk bled across the sky. Daylight still had an hour or so left on its shift, but already the neon of the Strip began to glow, letting my imagination run with wonderings of what horrors Loki and Puck would concoct. Would they test me as Maui had? Would they try to just take me out of the game? I shook my head, warding away these dark thoughts. If I dwelled on all the horrible things standing between me and my freedom, I’d never step out into the world again.

  The temptation to hide was strong. Maui offered his protection and hospitality for as long as I needed? Fine, I’d hole up here, swim in the big bed, eat room service, and wait for the cards to drop and show me my fate. But I didn’t really like the sound of that last part. After being a pa
wn for so long, it was time to make my own destiny. So, I had to hit the streets, find the gods, and get those damn poker chips.

  The lock clicked, and Marius stepped in through the French doors. He still hadn’t bothered to tie his hair back, and his glossy locks fell free past his shoulders in lazy waves. Beneath a long leather jacket, he wore a plain white T-shirt and faded blue jeans with cleverly placed tears. I could’ve gotten a pair like them at a thrift store for five bucks, and I’ll bet he paid more than two hundred for them at some designer store.

  The satyr spread his arms, putting himself on display. “What do you think? I popped down to a few of the shops and picked up some things. I figure this little task of yours could prove dangerous, so I wanted something more substantial than a glamour. And,” he said, dipping a hand into his jacket pocket, “I bought something for you.”

  He handed me a ball of fabric. Stretching it out, I saw it was little more than a black cocktail napkin with an elastic string. The front of the thong was bedazzled with rhinestones that spelled out Pirate Booty.

  “You can wear them on our date,” he said proudly.

  Shoving the panties back in his jacket pocket I let out a frustrated sigh. “No, thanks.”

  “Ingrate. Don’t women like it when men buy them clothing?”

  “That’s not clothing! You could use those as an eye patch!”

  Bouncing on the balls of his feet, he leered down at me. “Only after you wear them.”

  With a growl I slapped the satyr in the arm.

  “Gah! Devil woman! Did you have to hit me there?”

  “Oops, did I get you on the bad arm? I’m sorry,” I lied.

  I shouldered my pack and headed toward the door. I cast a longing gaze back at the sanctuary the room offered.

  Here goes nothing.

  I opened the door and set out to get the last pieces of the puzzle that would change my life. For better or worse.