Gods and Mortals: Fourteen Free Urban Fantasy & Paranormal Novels Featuring Thor, Loki, Greek Gods, Native American Spirits, Vampires, Werewolves, & More (152 page)

“Kara Dolores Sanchez,” he said in a different voice, one that tugged at my insides even though it wasn’t directed at me.

Kara gasped, and her hand tightened painfully on my arm. I felt her press her face against my bare shoulder. Cordus let the moment hang. He seemed to be enjoying it.

Then he smiled slightly and said, “I would speak with Miss Ryder alone.”

Cut free, Kara wrenched herself away from me and stumbled off into the crowd.

Cordus watched her go, then turned back to me. He was wearing a slim-cut white shirt and dark pants. I absolutely was not going to look down to get more specific than that on the color. My heart was still racing from catching the edge of what he’d directed at Kara.

“You handled your interaction with the Lady Ambassador reasonably well, Miss Ryder. However, the death of the ice man in Wisconsin is not your responsibility. You had no cause to apologize.”

Burgundy. His pants were burgundy.

Oh my god, what is wrong with me?

“On the next such occasion, it would be best simply to refer the matter to me, as Miss Sanchez attempted.”

Huh. It would’ve been nice if he’d complimented Kara, rather than tormenting her and then praising her once she was gone.

“Come,” he said, holding out his arm.

I really didn’t want to touch him, but there wasn’t much choice. I settled my hand on his forearm — which was covered by his shirtsleeve, thank god — and followed along as he led me through the crowd.

Over the next two hours, he stopped and spoke to at least twenty guests. He greeted each one formally, but the long names quickly blended together in my mind. Not a single one of them addressed me, but most seemed to notice me. Several gave my dress a pointed look. A few others revealed displeasure before schooling their features.

They all made me nervous, but the last — a tiny, caramel-complexioned woman with curly black hair and pretty, delicate features — was the only one who really scared me. She was wearing a pair of loose blood-red pants and a matching sleeveless top. The female Seconds seemed to prefer gowns, so her look stood out. They also seemed to like height, but this one was making no effort to look taller than her five-foot-nothing: she was wearing red beaded flats.

She studied me very directly as Cordus greeted her, which the others hadn’t done. Finally she turned to him and nodded, greeting him by name.

Then, apropos of nothing, she said, “I will give you Florida for this one.”

I was shocked, then flooded with horror. I didn’t want to go with that woman, whoever she was. I glanced at Cordus and saw that he was quite surprised himself. He’d actually arched an eyebrow.

A pained silence ensued. Was he considering it? Surely it was a good deal — I couldn’t really be worth a whole state.

Finally he said, “Thank you for so handsome an offer, my Lady, but I must decline.”

Then he stood there chatting with the woman. She wasn’t much of a small-talker, so the conversation was a bit stilted. Maybe she just had trouble keeping up her end because she was so busy staring at me like I was a prize steer.

Cordus finally moved on from the tiny woman. Instead of greeting another guest, he steered me to a dark corner, where a large someone in all black was standing. It was Williams. Great.

“Miss Ryder needs to rest,” Cordus said to him. “Keep her company.”

Cordus smiled briefly at me —
Good girl
, I imagined him saying — and moved back off into the crowd. I was left standing there awkwardly.

Well, whatever. At least Williams was human. Sort of.

“Do you know who that small black-haired woman is?” I asked him.

“Lady Innin.”

Shit. The one Koji had mentioned.

“Is she someone important?”

“A great power. Controls the Caribbean and the Gulf — Florida, eastern Mexico, Central America, northern South America.”

Wow. I wondered if she was stronger than Cordus. I felt chilled.

“She just offered to trade Florida for me.”

Williams turned and looked at me. Perhaps I’d actually surprised him. Or maybe not. After a few seconds, he shrugged and said, “Florida’s gonna be underwater in fifty years, anyway.”

No doubt he was trying to be an asshole, but it struck me as funny. Or maybe laughter was just my response to stress. Whatever the reason, I had to clap my hands over my mouth and turn to the wall until I got a handle on myself.

Not much happened for the remainder of the evening. Kara found her way back to me, and we hung out quietly near Williams. Gwen and Zion both drifted by, drinks in hand. Just to be sure, I asked Kara if Graham were there.

“Are you kidding? That sonovabitch is in a world of hurt. No way is Lord Cordus letting him out to play.”

I saw the memory of our elevator conversation flit across her face.

She frowned. “Ratfink bastard.”

I stifled the impulse to defend him. What did I know? Maybe he’d been negligent not to realize I didn’t start seeing full workings along with halfings.

After another hour or so, guests began to leave. Eventually, only Cordus and his people were left. Cordus headed into his study to make some calls, and the rest of us hung out in the living room while our cars were brought around.

I got to put names to some new faces. In addition to Hank, there were two other bartenders, Hortensia and Bud. Kristin, James, and Rafiki had been circulating with drinks and hors d’oeuvre. Mary and Valerie had been working in the kitchen. The bruisers taking coats were Andy and Theo.

Looking around at everyone, I started to get a sense of how things worked. Nolanders with less strength or power, or whatever you called it, did lower-status jobs: the waiters, caterers, and bartenders were all wearing all black. Koji and the doorman, who was named Grant, had been too. I’d bet Cordus’s estate staff were in the same category.

In contrast, Kara, Zion, Gwen, and I, who were all wearing some white, had been circulating freely among the guests. Andy and Theo, the coat-checkers-slash-guards, were also wearing white — folded pocket handkerchiefs and silver cufflinks. Maybe we were the security detail, or maybe we were just assets to show off.

Though everyone seemed cordial enough, I noticed that people tended to group according to clothing color. Maybe the members of each group worked with one another more often and had gotten to know each other better.

As the rest of us talked, Williams leaned against the far wall, looking down. He seemed to be profoundly antisocial.

I realized as I watched him that he was an exception to the color-coding — he’d been circulating, and Kara had implied he had a lot of strength, but his clothes were all black.

Grant called up to let us know the Porsche was ready, so Zion, Kara, and I got in the elevator. It went down a lot faster than it had gone up.

When we saw the car, it appeared to have a big scrape along the driver’s side. It turned out to be masking tape — Koji had put it there to see Zion’s reaction. Everyone had a good laugh except Zion, who cuffed Koji on the shoulder. Not hard, though. I could tell she was only pretending to be mad.

A
s we crossed
the bridge out of the city, I asked Kara and Zion whether they ever hung out with any of the dressed-all-in-black people.

“I’d sure like to hang out more with Koji — he’s hot,” Kara said. “But I guess it can get a little weird with them sometimes. They’re all pretty nice, though,” she added.

“How about you, Zion?”

“I don’t ‘hang out’ with any of you people. We’re coworkers, not friends.”

“Fuck you,” Kara said. “That’s stupid. There’s no one else for us to be friends with.”

Zion shrugged. Kara chewed her out a little more, then lapsed into resentful silence. After a minute or two, she said something else pissy.

Zion lost her temper. “You know what, Kara? You need to grow the hell up.”

“What does that mean? You think you’re too good for everyone else?”

“What do you think this is, high school? Like we’re in different cliques or something? You people are blind.”

I was more curious than offended.

“Blind? What do you mean?”

Zion rolled her eyes. “Lord Cordus gives some of us higher status and makes us advertise it to the others. That breaks us into groups that resent each other — we resent the weaklings for not doing the dangerous work, and they resent us because they’re menial labor and get paid a lot less. So now there’re factions instead of unity. That makes us all easier to control. See?”

The ensuing silence was profound.

Finally Kara said, skeptically, “He pays us more?”

“He pays you more if you ask, dumbass. You should be making four times what I make — you’re at least that much stronger. Instead, you’re probably making what Grant makes.”

The genius of Cordus’s system started to become clear to me.

“So,” I said, “to get the extra pay, you have to ask to be treated better than the others. That means you’re the one who has to go to him and claim they’re not your equals.”

“Got it in one. Bonus for the new girl.”

“But why?” Kara said, sounding choked up. “Why would you do that? We’re not better than them. I’m not better than you. Beth’s not better than me.”

“Seriously. That part of the system would fall apart if no one asked him for the raise,” I said.

“Who should I answer first,” Zion said angrily. “The woman who drives a twenty-year-old Pontiac, or the one who can’t afford a car at all?”

“Zion, that is so fucked up. I don’t even know you. Jesus Fucking Christ.”

Kara slumped back in her seat.

I was still thinking through Cordus’s system.

“He gives the strongest people the most perks. That makes them feel more invested in the status quo. That makes sense, since they’d be the most dangerous to him if they rebelled.”

“‘Rebelled’? We can’t rebel — don’t even think about it,” Zion said. “He would crush us all without lifting a finger.”

We stopped at a light, and she turned to give us both a hard stare.

“You two need to get it through your heads that there’s nothing we can do about our situation. Lord Cordus can do whatever he wants with us. At least the weak ones live to be old. The three of us are going to live short lives, and we’re going to die hard. We’ll be lucky to make it out of our twenties. All we can do is try to enjoy what we can, while we can. There’s nothing else.”

Kara didn’t say anything. She’d crossed her arms and drawn her knees up to her chest, physically withdrawing from the conversation.

I thought about Williams. I wondered if he was resisting the system by not wearing white. Maybe he was a little smarter than he looked. Or maybe he was just contrary.

“It seems like Williams gets away with ducking the clothing thing,” I said. “He’s got to have enough strength to wear white, but he wasn’t tonight.”

“Yeah, well, Williams is Williams,” Zion said. “I don’t know why Lord Cordus lets him get away with that shit. He sure wouldn’t stand for it from me. Wearing white isn’t a choice.”

“Is his ability with barriers rare and useful, like Callie’s precognition?”

Zion frowned. “I don’t think so. He’s great with barriers, and that’s definitely useful, but most of us can do at least a little barrier work, and there are some others with real strength in that area, like Andy. Callie’s literally one in a thousand. Williams isn’t.”

She thought some more. “He does have a lot of raw strength. Second only to Callie, probably. Maybe that’s it.”

Third is more like it
, I thought, remembering how Graham had broken through Williams’s barrier to attack me.

I sat back and let the Porsche’s muted rumble seep through me.

I could understand Kara’s horrified reaction. What Cordus was doing was so wrong that it was hard to put into words.

But I could also understand Zion’s position. I’d seen what had happened to Callie, and I’d noticed how scarred up Gwen and Williams were. And how young everyone seemed to be — Gwen was definitely the oldest person wearing white, and she looked to be in her late thirties. The lives of those who hunted Seconds were probably nasty, brutish, and short. Why not enjoy what small pleasures you could?

It all hinged on whether Cordus really was as unbeatable as Zion said. If he was, then resistance would be nothing but a symbolic sacrifice, and no one was likely to do that. But if he wasn’t unbeatable, then colluding with him wasn’t nearly so forgivable.

T
he next morning
, I received a letter from Cordus. I could tell from the initialing that it had been typed by a secretary for his signature. It informed me that I was to consider myself a member of his household until further notice. I was not allowed to leave the premises without permission. I was being given that day to wrap up my pre-existing affairs. My wages would be $32,000 per annum, from which my monthly room and board of $2,000 would be deducted. My household membership came with a credit card and a fancy cell phone, which were attached to the letter in a padded envelope. The card was for pre-approved work expenses only. A list of recommended clothing items was also attached — mostly things I’d put in the “business casual” category, though I noticed with a chill that black undergarments were included.

Cordus had added a hand-written note at the bottom: he would be conducting my formal training, and it would begin the following morning. Gwen would be in touch with me about the specifics of my schedule.

I put down the letter and its attachments and just sat there. I’d kept repeating to myself that I had to confront my new reality. But now that reality had been given paper form and slipped under my door, and it clearly had no room for any part of who I’d been — not my house, my job, my family, my friends, or even my existing wardrobe.

I resented it profoundly.

Also, it scared me.

I sat there, expecting the thought of my future to trigger a panic attack, but it didn’t. It occurred to me that I hadn’t had one in a while. Maybe Graham had been right, and I didn’t have true panic disorder after all.

That’s a pretty big silver lining. I might be losing a lot, but that’s a huge gain
.

It was hard to think positively, though. The losses were too big and too new.

Sighing, I picked the letter back up, wondering how much I could get done in a day. I turned it over and jotted down a to-do list that started with “quit job” and ended with “black panties.”

If I knocked enough things off the list this morning, maybe I could go shopping. The letter said a percentage of my salary could be advanced if I needed funds for clothes or other essentials. I thought of the $1,200 I’d been carrying around in my wallet for the last week. If I spent it carefully, hopefully it would be enough. I didn’t want to ask Cordus for an advance. He might decide to treat it as a request for a raise.

Okay, top of the list. I sat there for a while thinking about various lies I could tell the people back in Dorf, especially Ben and Dr. Nielsen. It was hard to come up with something that sounded even vaguely reasonable. In the end, I decided to keep it as simple as possible — I was very upset about having been attacked in my own home and had decided to leave Dorf for a while until I got over the experience. I didn’t know where I was going to go, and I’d rather not have people contact me.

Given my well known mental illness, an extreme reaction like that might seem plausible, at least to some people. I went over the story several times in my head, then decided to let it sit for a bit, while I did other things.

Cordus’s letter had included a mailing address I could use — a post-office box. I used the cell phone to file a mail-forwarding order online. Then I stopped my home phone service and changed the mailing address for my gas-and-electric bill.

I called the Ohio State Highway Patrol and reported my car stolen. I got a call back twenty minutes later: my car had already been found. Maybe Williams hadn’t bothered with a barrier. I thanked the trooper and told her I wouldn’t be reclaiming the car. She asked why I hadn’t reported the theft earlier. I could tell she thought something fishy was going on. I just played dumb. In the end she told me they’d keep the car for ninety days, then donate it to a program that provided job training for at-risk youth.

So much for my mother’s last gift to me.

I went back over my story. It still seemed like the best thing I could come up with, so I called Suzanne and tried it out on her. Not surprisingly, she was brimming with questions, but I just kept repeating the party line — I’d be away for a while, I wasn’t sure where or for how long, I’d prefer not to be contacted unless it was an emergency. I gave her my cell number and asked her to turn my thermostat down and keep an eye on my house.

Then I remembered the mouse. How could I have forgotten? Poor little guy. I thought quickly about just asking Suzanne to let him go in the backyard, but there were so many cats running loose in the neighborhood. Instead I asked her to hire a trustworthy kid to feed and water him and clean his cage. I told her I’d send her some money to cover it.

After she agreed, we said our goodbyes, and I hung up. I took a deep breath. That had been relatively easy.

Calling Dr. Nielsen was a lot harder. He was intensely worried about me and quite unwilling to let me “just disappear following a traumatic experience,” as he put it. I stuck to my guns but had the feeling he’d be calling the police when we hung up. Well, that would come to nothing — I was pretty sure the Dorf PD had written me off.

The next call was Ben. That conversation was awful. He was worried about me, yes, but he was even more worried about his family. How could I just disappear, right when he and the girls needed me most? Sticking to the party line didn’t do any good. It just infuriated him. It was horrible. In the end, he hung up on me in disgust.

After about fifteen minutes, the cell phone rang. The caller ID showed Ben’s number, but when I answered, it was my eldest niece, Tiffany. Jesus, it was really my day for punishment.

“Aunt Beth?”

She spoke in a low, muffled voice, as though she was crouching in a corner and whispering into the phone.

“Hi, sweetie. How’re you doing?”

She ignored my question. “Ghosteater said you could find Mom. Did you?”

You’d think, after the last two weeks, I’d have stopped getting caught by surprise. Unfortunately not. I sat there holding the phone, wondering what on earth to say. Just as I was about to answer, Graham’s and Kara’s warnings about the rules came back to me. I shut my mouth and thought some more.

“Beth?” Tiffany whispered, sounding desperate.

I decided I had to take a hard line. Tiff was twelve and had a good head. She could take it.

“Who else is going to find out what I tell you, Tiff?”

“I won’t tell anyone except Ghosteater.”

“Not Madisyn?”

Tiff paused. When she spoke, she sounded sad. “No. She’s not old enough to keep the secret. It’s started too young for her.”

That’s a good thing
, I thought to myself. If I understood what I’d been told, it meant she had very little strength. If Cordus got a hold of her, she’d get one of those low-paid but safe household positions.

“Are Jazzy and Lia like you and Madisyn?”

“Not yet. It only started for me last year, though.”

She’d have been eleven. I wondered where that put her, strengthwise.

“Tiff, do you know how serious the rule is about keeping the secret?”

“Mom said I could never tell anyone about anything special I could do.”

“Did she tell you that there are people who will come and kill you if you do tell anyone? Anyone at all, even your Dad?”

From the silence on the other end, I guessed Justine hadn’t been that explicit. Maybe she didn’t know it herself. She seemed pretty out of it.

“I understand,” Tiff finally said in a shaky voice.

“Okay. The good news is that I did find your mother. She’s not hurt, and she’s staying someplace I think is safe for her. The bad news is that she’s not going to be able to come home right now, and there’s no way you can visit her or speak to her.”

“Why?”

“Honey, that’s in the can’t-talk-about-it category. I’m sorry.”

“Are you with her?”

“I’m staying at the same place she is. I’ll try to see her as often as I can.” I paused. “I’m sorry I can’t give you better news. You know, I didn’t find out about the special stuff until just the last couple weeks. It’s all new to me, and I don’t understand a lot of it. I don’t know what I can do for your Mom, but I’ll try my best to help her and keep her safe.”

Tiffany took that in. Finally she said, “Okay,” in a small voice. She sniffled, then cleared her throat. “Can I call you?”

“Absolutely. If I don’t answer when you call, leave a message telling me when I should call you back and at what number, okay?”

“Okay,” she said, sounding marginally better. “I love you, Aunt Beth. I want you to come home.”

“Oh, sweetie, I love you too, so much. I hope I’ll be able to come home soon.”

There was a big sniffle, then, “Bye.”

I set down the phone.

Damn
.

I
took a long
, hot shower, trying to rinse away the aftertaste of having lied to and disappointed everyone I cared about.

When I was done, I put on the same clothes I’d been wearing when Williams, Kara, and Callie grabbed me at the mall, days back. The house staff had been laundering them each night, but I was getting pretty tired of them.

I opened my phone’s address book. It was programmed with numbers for all the Nolanders I knew so far, and quite a few I hadn’t met yet. I called Gwen and told her I’d like to use the afternoon to find some of the clothes on my list. She said she’d check with Cordus, and that if it was all right with him, someone would take me shopping. Half an hour later, Kara and I were on our way in a generic black sedan.

Not surprisingly, the area turned out to have a variety of shopping options. Despite Kara’s objections, I started at Kohl’s.

“There’s no reason to pay a lot for bras and panties,” I said as we rooted through the lingerie section. “I don’t have that much to spend, and there’s a lot on this list.”

“Yeah, but …” Kara paused awkwardly, a black bra in each hand.

“What?”

“The lingerie is the most important stuff.”

I lowered my voice to a hiss. “Lord Cordus is
never
going to see it.”

“He will, Beth. I’m sorry, but it’s going to happen. There’s nothing you can do about it.”

She turned away before wiping quickly at her eyes.

I felt cold inside and tried not to think of Tiffany and Madisyn. I waited until I could speak firmly.

“Then look for the cheapest stuff. A rapist doesn’t deserve to see a $13.99 bra.”

Kara laughed weakly. “You’re a braver woman than I am. Here’re some on sale, two for nine bucks.”

“Perfect.”

Kohl’s provided not only all my new black underwear, but also some in lighter colors. I found several pairs of jeans and a bunch of black clothing: three pairs of slacks, two sweaters, and a slinky blouse. I was careful to make sure each item was entirely black. I also got three pairs of pants in other colors and a handful of nice knit tops in muted tones that Kara labeled “tasteful.”

Kara insisted on Saks for one item on the list — a black suit. While there, I also got what she identified as a “nice” pair of jeans. Those and the suit knocked me back as much as everything I’d bought at Kohl’s.

For shoes, I put my foot down — Saks was out of my league. Kara took me to Nordstrom. Still a lot of sticker-shock for small-town me, but not quite so bad. I left with heeled boots and a pair of pumps, both in black.

Our last stop was a sporting-goods store, where I got most of the other things on my list: sweat pants, running shorts, sports bras, socks, and athletic shoes. That stuff gave me a bad feeling. I’d never tended to put on weight, so I’d never gotten into working out. I didn’t particularly want to start.

Then I remembered trying to haul unconscious Kara along by her feet at the mill. Maybe getting a little stronger wasn’t such a bad idea.

We didn’t have time to buy the one thing left on the list, a black coat. I’d just have to hope spring came on quickly.

We headed back to the estate.

“So,” I said to Kara as we drove, “Do you live here most of the time?”

“Thank god, no. I’m based in Minneapolis. Williams and Callie and I are part of the Upper Midwest group. Graham too. He was in charge of it, actually. I’m sure that’s going to change, now.”

“Oh. Does that mean you’ll head back there soon?”

“I sure hope so.” She must’ve seen the expression on my face. “I’m sorry, Beth, but I couldn’t stay here with you if I wanted to. And god, I don’t want to. I’m sorry.”

“I know. I understand.”

I did understand, but I felt very alone. I liked Kara, but liking someone only mattered so much. Real friendships must be hard when any of us could be sent anywhere, anytime, and where fear was such a dominant force. Another part of Cordus’s control system, maybe.

“You’ll get to know the New York people. They’re good folks. Maybe you’ll get to hang out with Koji.”

She gave a half-hearted whistle as tribute to his hotness.

“Yeah, maybe so,” I said, and tried to smile.

G
wen knocked
on my door at 6:00 the next morning. She suggested I shower and dress, then come with her to breakfast in the dining room at 7:00.

The staff had been bringing my meals on a tray, but I guess that was too good to last.

Noting that Gwen hadn’t been wearing black, I put on a pair of beige slacks and a white knit top. Pairing them with the black heels wouldn’t have been my first choice, but beggars couldn’t be choosers — it was either that or boots.

Breakfast was served in a huge dining room on the second floor. It took up a corner of the house. Tall windows looked out over the front lawn, which swept down and away to the distant tree line. When I stopped by a window and commented on how big the property looked, Gwen said it was over a thousand acres and had been parkland when Cordus took it over in the 1970s.

“He took over a park? How?”

Gwen looked a little uncomfortable. “Lord Cordus is gifted at influencing others.”

I’d seen that gift firsthand with the green man, but that was just one mind. I remembered that it was indelicate to ask about Seconds’ abilities. Still, how was I going to find out about these things if I didn’t ask?