Darkest Misery (5 page)

Chapter Eight

After a couple hours of letting a strange Gryphon draw all over me with magical inks, I understood why this was a multi-day process. Who wanted to sit longer? Especially when the guy doing the drawing was not very talkative. I made multiple attempts to get Theo to tell me more about
Le Confrérie
, thinking I might learn something useful in my leak-hunt, but he primarily answered in monosyllables.

Finally, I gave up and turned my attention to worrying about my evening. The satyr from the Upper Council had arrived, and he'd asked to meet me.

Around eight o'clock, with my back itching from the half-finished glyphs, I paused outside my apartment building. True to his word, Lucen had arranged with Dezzi for two satyrs to guard me, and they'd be arriving in about forty minutes to escort me to the restaurant where I was supposed to meet everyone for dinner.

I still felt somewhat ambivalent about having babysitters everywhere I went, and so I was enjoying my last solitary trip between home and office. My last time feeling like an adult. I opened the door as I caught sight of a familiar figure out of the corner of my eye, and my hand clenched around my keys.

The fury I'd nicknamed Mace-head had come out of the drugstore down the street, and he was cutting across the sidewalk. I swallowed, watching him, and a ridiculously stupid idea formed in my head.

Mace-head—technically, his name was Nyles—was the local fury lieutenant. And, as someone had once explained to me, everything a Dom knows, their lieutenant would know too. In fact, it was Nyles who'd saved my ass just last week and had hinted at big plans for me. Taken together, I had to assume that whatever was going on with the furies, Nyles had information. About me. About Mitch. Possibly, even about how the furies were tipped off to the Phoenix trip.

I wanted that information.

No, I
needed
it.

I patted my hip, reassuring myself that I carried my knife, and I took off after him. Lucen would kill me for this, but I wasn't about to pass up the opportunity to dig for information. Besides, with Misery at my side and heavy charms covering my skin, I'd be fine. Right? Surely I could question a single fury in a public place without worrying about being kidnapped again.

Nyles turned a corner, and I put on an extra burst of speed. The sun was creeping below the tallest buildings, and dusk further dulled Shadowtown's muted colors. Dressed in his usual all black, Nyles blended in with the scenery. Thank dragons for his unmistakable hair.

A few preds gave me funny looks as I hurried past. Nyles wasn't running, but he was walking like a man with a purpose, and he didn't seem to realize I was following him. I called out his name as he paused at an intersection for a truck to go by.

His face lit up when he saw me approach. “Well, lookie here. So glad to see you're okay, girlie. I heard you got in an accident in Phoenix.”

If I'd needed confirmation that Nyles knew anything, I guess I'd gotten it. “Where's Mitch Johnson?”

“Who?”

“You know who. The guy your people kidnapped in Phoenix. Where is he?”

Nyles shook his head, a bemused smile on his face. “Do I look like I'm in Phoenix?”

“You look like someone who has answers about Phoenix.”

His half smile broke into a shit-eating grin. “But, assuming you're right, do I look like someone who'd share them with you? Sorry, girlie. Whatever you're asking about, you've got the wrong guy. If you don't believe me, get your friends to ask. It's been a while since I've been treated to an all-expenses-paid trip to Gryphon Headquarters.”

I started to retort that I'd do just that, then I bit my lip, suddenly uncertain. Nyles clearly knew something, but maybe I'd been mistaken about how much. I mean, I hadn't expected him to give away secrets, but I'd hoped he might inadvertently spill something I could use. Or something the Gryphons could if I gave them reason to bring Nyles in for questioning. Now, I wasn't so sure. If Nyles did know something, I was confident he'd be flaunting it. Instead, his cluelessness when I mentioned Mitch's name seemed genuine.

A couple furies on Harleys roared by as I debated my next move, and the noise temporarily killed my ability to think straight. Of course, I wasn't sure how straight I'd been thinking moments ago anyway. Chasing Nyles through Shadowtown had been reckless. And for what? I wasn't going to follow him into a deserted alley and threaten him for details. Although if I thought for a second that would work, I'd probably try.

“You're stressed, that's what you are,” Nyles said. “But I hope we can still be friends.”

I shuddered back into the present. “Thanks, but your friends have a habit of ending up dead, if I recall.”

“Harsh.” He pretended to wince. “After all I've done for you.”

“You mean have your addicts kidnap me?”

Nyles placed a hand over his heart. “Those weren't my addicts, girlie. Believe me, you're in no danger from us.”

Believe me.
Yeah right. I was more likely to believe Lucen's dragon, Sweetpea, wouldn't bite me if I put my fingers in his mouth. “Why do you keep saying that? What do you want from me?”

“Patience, girlie. You'll find out soon enough, and when you do, it will be magnificent. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm late for an appointment.”

Unfortunately, there was nothing I could do but grind my heels into the pavement as I watched him go and wish I hadn't confronted him. His gleeful promise of a magnificent purpose was even more terrifying than potentially being kidnapped again.

Bodyguards—yeah, maybe they weren't such a bad idea.

As luck would have it, they were waiting on my stoop when I returned to my apartment. The first satyr, Gi, had acted as one my guards during the whole Victor-framed-me fiasco. The other introduced herself as Melissa. They waited while I changed clothes, and they kept pace with me as we made our way to the restaurant where this shindig was going down.

The restaurant's interior was dimly lit, and candles flicked on all the tables. A goblin maître d' arrived to show me the way. My stomach knotted as we navigated between tables of preds who all eyed me curiously. Though I was pretty used to being surrounded at this point, I tended to avoid places like this where my outsider status was obvious.

I exhaled slowly, reminding myself I had nothing to fear from these people. No one was feeing aggressive, as evidenced by Theo's glyphs not activating. Besides, any anxiety I felt would be known to everyone here, and the first rule of meeting someone powerful was “show no fear”.

Or maybe that was my first rule of meeting anyone. It sounded like good advice.

“Jess.” Lucen stood as I approached the table, and I swore I saw apprehension in his smile. That didn't bode well.

Three of the table's other occupants remained seated. Dezzi nodded, and Devon winked. Another woman was present too—Sonya was Dezzi's recent addition to her inner triad, taking the opening left by Lucrezia's betrayal.

As for Dezzi, the Boston Dom seemed strained, as Lucen did. The fine laugh lines around her eyes were more visible than I'd ever seen before, and her eyes themselves were a touch bloodshot, like she hadn't been sleeping. Despite that, though, Dezzi looked as unflappable as always.

The fourth satyr at the table stood too. This had to be Claudius. He was built much like Lucen—tall and broad-chested—but he had dark eyes, and his honey-blond hair spilled down past his shoulders. He was pretty, in a manly way. He looked like he'd stepped out of some medieval painting, or he would have if not for the perfectly modern shirt and jacket he wore.

Also, and more importantly, power clung to him. My body was awakening with it. Although it was hard to tell how much of my reaction was caused by him and how much was due to my proximity to Lucen and Devon, I could smell his pheromones across the table, and that was enough to let me know they were working on me. His scent reminded me of the forest, filling my head with images of classical paintings. The sort that depicted satyrs of the mythological type playing pipes and frolicking with naked wood nymphs next to clear pools of water.

Alluring and dangerous.

So was the way Claudius's gaze swept over me, as though he were evaluating me, and he likely was. I did my best not to squirm at the heat coming over my skin, but I could sense his magic brushing my mind like imaginary fingers running through my hair. My nipples hardened, and I was glad I wore a slightly padded bra so he couldn't tell. This whole experience was icky enough without him getting to enjoy my reaction.

From the corner of my eye, I could see Lucen and Devon both stiffen, but I held still and met Claudius's gaze with every ounce of composure I could muster. Finally, his power withdrew, and he made a soft sound of satisfaction.

Yup, I was being evaluated. Fuck that.

“Are you going to introduce yourself or just mentally molest me for the rest of evening?” I faked a smile.

Someone stifled a laugh—probably Devon—but I kept my attention on Claudius.

To my surprise, he smiled. “I had to investigate you for myself. My apologies if you felt molested. Most people, I'm told, enjoy the experience.”

“Your magic overpowers most people, and I'm not them. I'm a satyr.”

Claudius rubbed his chin. “So I've been told, as well.”

He sat back down, and the goblin pulled out a chair for me at last so I could do the same.

“So I've been told too.” I gave Lucen's hand a squeeze under the table.

Claudius leaned back, continuing to study me, but at least doing so less obtrusively. “I admit, I expected something more. You seem very human.”

“I consider that one of my positive traits.”

He didn't respond directly, but he may have made a noise of derision. It was hard to tell, particularly since a waiter appeared with wine at that moment.

Conversation turned to boring small talk while everyone ordered food. Polite questions were asked about Claudius's flight, the local weather and the usual topics people discuss when they have nothing better to talk about. No one seemed to expect me to do much speaking, which was a relief. I sipped my wine and tore off bits of my dinner roll without tasting much.

I was wondering if Lucen had been mistaken about the necessity of my presence when the conversation changed again with the arrival of the food. Dezzi brought up that tomorrow's meeting would start at three in the afternoon.

Claudius frowned, and something very weird happened. It was almost as though I felt his displeasure. Not tasted it, like I did human emotions, but felt it, like it had been planted in my mind. I could tell it was foreign, that it didn't belong to me, but my body reacted to it all the same. Disconcerted, I picked up my utensils, hoping I was imagining things.

“You agreed to meet at such an early hour?” Claudius's unhappiness was as evident in his tone as it was in my head.

Dezzi set down her glass. “It is not an ideal hour for anyone. Such is the nature of compromise.”

“Neither an ideal hour nor an ideal arrangement.” Claudius's gaze fixated on me again, and I cursed being seated directly across from him. “Will you be running this show?”

I swallowed. “Not precisely. There's no one in charge. We're all on equal footing because we all have the same goal.”

“Assuming you believe this prophecy or that recent events are related to it.”

“You don't?”

“Consider me skeptical. I'm not saying it isn't possible, just as I'm not saying you aren't a satyr. But on both accounts, I think people might be misinterpreting facts.”

I blinked at him, and I wasn't the only one. Lucen visibly tensed, and Devon paused with his wineglass in hand. Sonya said nothing, but her dark eyes were alert, cataloguing the table.

Dezzi folded her hands. “There are stories of such people as Jessica in the lore. When you consider her talents—she feeds on human emotion, she can make humans lust, she can bypass wards designed to keep out anyone who is not a satyr—it seems entirely reasonable to assume she is one.”

“Plus the Gryphons told me the other day that they used satyr magic on me.” Did I sound defensive? It had to be Claudius's attitude pissing me off. I'd been in denial about what I was for so long. Defending my screwed-up biology was laughable.

Devon grinned, though it looked as forced as his smile had been earlier. “Well, there you go.”

“There you don't go.” Claudius's glance at Devon could have withered a dandelion, but Devon just cocked his head to the side, questioning him. “Gryphons could not possibly have done anything of the sort. It takes a satyr to make another satyr.”

So I'd heard before, but I didn't know what that meant. “You assume they couldn't have convinced one to work with them?”

“No satyr with sufficient power for the task would do it.”

“People will do a lot of things when you don't give them other options.” I shrugged, but I really wanted to hurl my steak knife at Claudius's perfect head. “Or, you know, maybe a very powerful satyr became physically damaged, was kicked out of his domus for it, and helped the Gryphons out of spite. Sounds like the sort of thing I'd do.”

Satyrs valued physical perfection to such a degree that they'd ostracize anyone without it, a fact that had bugged me since I learned of it. Dezzi had taken in one such satyr, Angelia, who—in spite of some issues I had with her—seemed like a lovely person. It was one reason I had some respect for Dezzi.

But it was probably something Claudius would disapprove of, and I was starting to get an idea about why everyone was so on edge. I made a mental note not to mention Angelia's name in his company.

My answer seemed to prove some sort of point with Claudius. “Another reason why I have my doubts as to whether you're truly a satyr or some other creature. You don't understand us or think like us.”