Jacen turned to Melancton, who nodded once but offered no comment. "I forgot about that."
Adonis shrugged. "Happens."
More awkward silence played out, and then Jacen said, "Thanks for coming to help find me yesterday. I know we never got along…"
"And my brother and Pan forbade you from reaching out to me though I was in the area." He'd expected nothing different, to be honest. It sucked, but he had betrayed Ariston badly.
Jacen looked away. Melancton sighed. "They were angry."
"I don't blame them for it. I was an asshole and I let an asshole control me. I'll never be able to erase my past. But I want to move forward. I want to control my own life and make better choices. If Ariston doesn't want to talk to me, I respect that. And Pan—"
"What about me?" A sharp tone accompanied the words.
Adonis whipped his head toward the doorway. Pan crossed his arms over a white cable knit sweater as he waited for an answer. The god didn't look remotely pleased to see him if his glaring green eyes that flashed red for a few seconds were any indication.
"Fucked me over, that's what." He turned to the other two, needing to get out of there. "I'm going to check on Sage." Not waiting for a response, he shoved out into the hall past the god, barely avoiding body-checking him with his shoulder on the way. His breathing increased with each step, and he thought he was going to hyperventilate if he didn't get out of Pan's presence. The guy had already screwed up his chances of being human again; the last thing he needed right now was to be tossed out on his ass, with Hermes out of commission and unable to help this time. He refused to be humiliated by the Arcadians in front of Sage.
No one was in the staff room when he got up there, and at first it concerned him, but then once he realized his curse wasn't making him a lust-crazed idiot, he calmed. The other women must be with Sage somewhere else in the building. Adonis hadn't wasted any of the pills he'd been given yet because, as long as he stayed around Sage, he didn't need them—and he worried once Ariston found out he was there, which was imminent now, he would be tossed out and not given any refills. Hell, none of them had even thought to give him any in the first place!
Jackasses.
Adonis picked up the television remote control and sat down in one of the armchairs. It was actually quite comfortable, and somehow that annoyed him even further considering the place he'd been holed up for months now. He clicked on the TV and the local news came on with a bright red banner reading, Breaking News.
"Officials are urging anyone who visited the Hidden Bar on River Street last night to go to the ER immediately," the pretty blonde news anchor said, expression grim. "And if you know anyone who did, check on them and urge them to seek medical attention if they haven't already."
What the hell happened? Then, text at the bottom shot across the screen: Multiple Patrons Poisoned at Local Bar. The anchor continued to report on how several people who visited the bar were found dead in the early morning hours. An investigation was underway on if any of the beverages had been tampered with.
"Guys!" he called out, rising to his hooved feet. He hadn't attempted to use the panpipes yet, too embarrassed to admit he didn't know how to play them. He'd have to figure it out soon though. Pan and Melancton came in and stared at him, Pan with speculation and Melancton with an unreadable expression. "I think I figured out what Theron did yesterday." He pointed to the screen. "People who visited a bar are being found dead this morning after drinking one brand of beer that was on tap."
Melancton bit back a curse. "He has used the false ambrosia."
Pan stared at the TV screen then back to Adonis. "Pray all it did to them was kill them."
"That's about the worst to happen to a person," Adonis said, uneasy about the way the god had said that. "…Isn't it?"
"No," Pan confirmed with a worried tone. "No, it is not."
13
Chrys paced in his holding cell, which was a hole in the ground with a door made of sticks that were tied down and guarded by two vrykolakas. He'd told the queen he'd come peacefully, that he wouldn't try to escape, yet here he was…a prisoner. Which was absolutely ridiculous. He'd come all the way to Brazil to seek proof of the dragon's existence so he could figure out how to get rid of it, as well as offer aid to—or request aid from—the vrykolakas. If Queen Myrine and her vrykolakas believed it existed, then it must.
But they had also taken his panpipes and phone before shoving him in this hole. So Chrys couldn't even call Pan and update him on what was happening—not that he had a signal anyway. He was completely out of touch with Bach Industries too, and he would need to check in with someone before he was considered missing. How would it look to disappear a week into being the new CEO? Who would get tapped in his place if they determined he wasn't returning?
Even worse, he hoped Theron wasn't terrorizing Jacen and Melancton while awaiting Calix's return to Savannah. There was no telling what that asshat was up to, but whatever it was…it couldn't be good.
A commanding voice broke him out of his thoughts. "The beast is on the move. Everyone prepare for an altercation." Myrine. Once an Amazonian queen, always one. He found her sexy as hell, and not because she was beautiful—which she was—but because she radiated authority, confidence, and attitude. He liked that in a woman.
Wait... What beast and what altercation?
Chrys needed to shake this fascination he had with the queen and focus. Did they mean Destroyer had shown himself? "Let me out!" he shouted. "I can help you."
"Quiet." One of his guards smacked a spear against his railing.
A shadow fell over him. He knew without being able to see her clearly that it was Myrine. He stared up at her and brushed his hair from his eyes. Sweaty, stripped down to his pants alone, and needing a shower, Chrys prayed she saw him for the man he was. "I can help. I've trained in combat."
She shook her head. "Once he knows you're here, he'll destroy this place to get to you."
"He'll try. But I can lead him away from here. Let me know where you want to take this fight, and I'll herd him in that direction."
Myrine mumbled something to the guards who quickly unlatched the door and opened it. A rope ladder was dropped in for him. Not willing to waste his time wallowing in the hole any longer, he climbed out before they could change their mind. He been about to lose his shit down there. Considering he'd had to basically sit on his hands and not act while Theron tortured Calix for months, among other things, all in order to keep Hermes informed of what was happening in that house, he was geared up for a fight. If he had to take out all his pent-up rage at his inaction on a dragon, then so be it.
As he reached the top and stood to his full height, he almost missed the way Myrine's gaze ran down his body in a slow perusal. When her stare met his, he suppressed a groan. Appreciation shone in those eerie yellow eyes of hers. Chrys tried not to flex on impulse.
"You're foolish," she said finally. "You have a death wish."
"I'm tired of sitting around. I came out here to see this thing, to deal with it. Let me help."
"You're a big shot CEO of a big company." She crossed her arms. Her ebony hair had been secured in small braids, and then tied back out of her face. He wanted to touch her, but kept his palms clenched at his sides. "Shouldn't you be sitting behind a desk instead of slinking around in the jungle?"
He moved closer to her, leaning ever so slightly into her tall height until only a hairsbreadth separated their lips. "Lady, I was a Greek warrior cursed into something I didn't want to be, not too different from you." She opened her mouth to interrupt him, but he held his hand up to stall her. The motion caused his hand to brush her arm and it took all he had in him not to reach back out to caress her smooth skin. "No, I wasn't mind-controlled by a snake lady, and I hate that it happened to you, but I have my own problems. So, let me be useful instead of wasting two of your warriors on guarding me."
Myrine arched an eyebrow, and her amusement grated his nerves. She must find him completely
incapable, and it chafed. "Are you quite finished?" she asked. "We're wasting valuable time bickering."
He was prepared to defend himself verbally but didn't know how to respond. She was…agreeing with him? He'd expected more of an argument. "What do you need me to do?"
Tilting her chin to the direction over his left shoulder, she said, "Take a spear and head northeast until you come to the river. Follow it south until you hear the roars, then head in that direction. You have to make it seem as though you did not arrive with us in case we fail; otherwise, New Amazonia is lost before we can truly build it."
The subtle break in the word lost gripped at his heartstrings. This fierce warrior queen of a woman had already lost so much in her lifetime. She wanted to reclaim her life, her people, build anew, and once again some monster sought to destroy it. "Not on my watch."
Chrys would slay the beast if he must. For Myrine, for the Satyroi, and for the good of the world who remained blissfully oblivious to the truth of the creatures that lived among them. And if stabbing a winged reptile ended up being cathartic for him, who was he to complain? It wouldn't be as simple as that though, and he well knew it.
He nodded to the queen and turned in the direction she'd said he could claim his weapon. The vrykolakas arming themselves looked up at his approach and turned to stare behind him at their queen. Myrine must have nodded, as the blonde woman closest to him shrugged and handed him a spear and a wooden shield. He thanked her.
Myrine stopped next to him and retrieved her own weapon. His gaze landed on the sword she had strapped to her back. "Do I get a blade?"
She cut him a look and snorted. "When I trust you."
"I'm facing a dragon with you. What's not to trust?"
She shook her head and chuckled. "That's a death wish."
Perhaps so, but to die at her side would at least be exciting and honorable. "I guess we both have one of those." They locked eyes once more.
"Go, we move much faster than you, and you have a bit of a hike. But if you're wise, you'll find your way out of this place and back to your desk in your office building far away from here."
Chrys was getting real tired of being patronized. Without thinking, he grabbed her by the arm and pulled her to him. "You don't know me. Stop presuming you know the type of man I am."
Half a dozen spears appeared in his peripheral, all pointed at him. He'd made a threatening move toward their queen, and Myrine wasn't lying about one thing: vrykolakas were much faster than a satyr. Their preternatural speed had him at a huge disadvantage. If she so much as gave them a nod, he would be dead.
"Stand down," Myrine said, never lowering her gaze from his. "The satyr wishes to prove himself to us this day. We will see exactly what sort of man, or beast, he is…" her focus shifted down his bare chest before shooting back to his face. "On the field of battle."
"And my panpipes?"
"Pull through the fight and perhaps we'll return your belongings to you."
Chrys let her go and took a step back. "I won't let you down."
"See that you don't." With those words, Queen Myrine turned her back on him and sauntered away. His body mourned her loss. He'd prove himself to her all right, and after battle, when they were victorious, well…he'd prove himself to her another way too. If she'd have him.
And from the heated glances she'd given his body, she might.
"Glamour up," Pan said and pulled out his phone. We need to be out there searching for Theron in case he didn't use up all the false ambrosia in one place."
Adonis cast his eyes downward, hating that he would have to admit needing help to use panpipes for the first time. He couldn't stand looking inferior to the others. Not after finally getting them to trust him. What if they threw him out the moment Theron was dealt with because he couldn't do what the rest of them could?
He ground his teeth. He didn't need them, never did. He'd had to depend on himself his whole life.
And where has that gotten you?
"And take a weapon, anything you can conceal. False ambrosia doesn't just kill humans. None of you have seen what it can do to a person, and I hope tonight is no different."
"What does it do?"
Adonis glanced up at Sage, who entered the room with Daphne and London in tow. She peered at Pan with curiosity then at Adonis, waiting for an answer to her question.
Pan didn't even look at the women as he perused a collection of dirks Melancton had brought up stairs with him. "Turns them into letum. An undead corpse. Once upon a time, we thought vrykolakas were also made this way." He picked a blade up, rolled it one way and then the next, and set it back down. "Turns out that only happened with Lamia's blood specifically. But letum… it's been a long while since there's been an outbreak of those."
"And if Dionysus had false ambrosia saved for a rainy day…" London trailed off.
Pan nodded, accepting a dagger from Melancton standing next to him. "My thoughts exactly. He had to think that Priapus's blood could create them or maybe it had to be stored for an allotted amount of time or something. I'm hoping I'm wrong though."
Sage stared at them all like she wasn't understanding half of what was said. And given the subjects of the conversation, that was possible. "Zombies?"
Pan finally focused on her. "Sure, if that's the word you really want to use for them. Zombies." He shook his head. "Sounds too Hollywood if you ask me, though."
"Or sounds like what it is. Who the hell would know what letum means?"
He snorted. "Someone who knows it's a Latin term for dead."
Adonis held his breath as Sage's skin flushed red. Pan was pissing her off and wasn't even trying to. At least it wasn't him as the target for her wrath…this time. "Unless you're a scholar or summoning a demon, or an old-ass man trapped in a satyr body, who else?" she bit out.
Pan openly laughed now and turned to Adonis. "She's cute. I like her."
Adonis bit back a groan as Sage bristled. The god was in for it now. "I'm assuming you're Pan, and if so, I don't like you. Unless you fix what you did to Adonis, we don't have anything further to say to one another."
She stormed out of the room and Daphne and London looked at each other perplexed before following her. If it was wrong to find enjoyment in Pan's shocked expression, Adonis didn't want to be right. When was the last time someone didn't fawn all over him because he was a god? It also felt really good to have someone on his team. Yes, he'd had Hermes for a few months vouching for him, but with Sage…
Adonis closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. He'd disappointed her enough in the few days he'd known her. He didn't want to let her down anymore, especially now that he knew she cared for him. Would stand up to an Olympian for him. He opened his eyes again, alone with the two other satyrs.
"What did I do?" Pan asked Melancton who merely lifted a brow. "Oh! Oh…right." He had the grace to appear abashed as he faced Adonis again. "How bad is it?"
"Well," Adonis started, completely deadpan. "Her being near me completely nullifies the original curse and there's a Satyr Moon tomorrow. I believe she called it a mystical E.D."
He stared at Adonis, speechless, then barked out a laugh and started coughing to cover it up. "Man, that's unfortunate."
Adonis didn't reply and didn't want to talk about it. He only glowered. Unfortunate? What an asshole. "How do the panpipes work?" He pulled the instrument out of his pocket and stared down at them. A change of subject would do them all good.
"I didn't mean to curse you," Pan said solemnly. "I was angry and mouthing off. It really wasn't on purpose."
"The panpipes…" Adonis waved the instrument in the air. "We're wasting time."
"There's not a specific tune to it. Think about what you want as you blow across the top."
Seemed easy enough. "That's it?"
"That's it," Pan confirmed.
He brought the instrument to his lips and softly blew through a few of the hollowed rods, willing a glamour to overtake his beastly features. Like with his former thyrsus
, the glamour worked instantly. Unlike his thyrsus, he'd be forced to carry around this instrument and not wear it like a ring to stay inconspicuous. Beggars couldn't be choosers.
Melancton slid daggers into the side of both of his boots and hid another in his inner jacket pocket. Both he and Pan were dressed in all black. Adonis looked down. He was wearing a Nirvana shirt and ripped blue jeans. The sneakers he'd brought along with him for when he could use glamor again had seen some better days as well. Ugh. He had nowhere to stash any weapons that weren't pocketknives or a gun. Immortals generally avoided firearms though, as they seemed too easy after training so long and hard in ancient times with blades, bows and other shorter-range weaponry. He wasn't asking to borrow a jacket.
Pan sighed, as though reading Adonis' thoughts from his expression. He disappeared, then flashed back in a few minutes later holding a leather jacket. "Don't be so stubborn. If you need something, ask. I know I can be a dick, but this is bigger than personal grievances and anything that occurred between you and my friend."
Adonis didn't know what to say about that. He'd spent so long feeling like the thorn in everyone's side that asking still seemed like they'd be angry he'd had the audacity to do so. On the other hand, he was now woefully ignorant of any new developments. Like, he hadn't realized Pan had managed to regain the ability to flash from place to place. Gods, it was like he'd been away from other satyrs for years rather than months.
He accepted the jacket and slid it on, finding two deep pockets in the inner linings. Then he slipped the panpipes into one and walked over to the weapons. "How is my brother, by the way?" Adonis didn't look up when he asked. The enormity of what he'd done to Ariston and Lily, almost done, made it feel as though he had no right to ask.
All Hallows' Satyr (The Cursed Satyroi Book 5) Page 12