Wicked Misery (Miss Misery) (10 page)

Lucen hung up his phone. “All you have to do is test the new blood and turn over the old.”

“Test the new blood to your satisfaction, then destroy the old,” I corrected him.

The goblin gave me a questioning look.

Once again, I wished to kick Lucen, this time for interfering with my business. But this wasn’t worth the risk of touching him, especially his genitals, even with a steel-toed boot.

“I could have destroyed it,” he said.

“This time you could have. Normally, I work alone.”
And you’re undermining my authority. Back off.
I turned toward the goblin and held up the vial.

Wenda gestured for it and pulled out a monocle. With her tiny fingers, she unscrewed the cap and squinted with the monocled eye into the blood.

“Eh?” She brought it over into the light by the windows and inspected it again. I was starting to get annoyed by this super-careful examination when she shook her head at me. “No good.”

“What do you mean
no good
? What’s wrong with it?”

“I can’t use that soul. Its owner is dead.”

“What? He can’t be dead. I got this from him on Friday.” Even as I said it, I realized how stupid that sounded. A lot could happen since Friday.

Wenda placed the vial back on the counter and raised her hands in front of her face, a goblin’s way of saying
no harm meant but not my problem.
“He is now.”

Lucen reached around me, took the vial and overturned it onto his finger. I wrinkled my nose as he rubbed dried blood between finger and thumb. “Sorry, Jess. She’s right. This guy’s dead.”

The goblin’s ears flattened against her head.

“I’m not doubting her.” I snatched the vial. The last thing I needed was Wenda thinking I was challenging her. She’d refuse to do business with me, and then I’d have no chance of finishing the job for J.G.

“You have another trade?” Wenda asked.

“Not with me.”

“You may come back when you do.”

“Thanks.” What a way to make a first impression. I threw the worthless blood vial back in my bag. “I don’t believe this,” I said to Lucen as we left the store. “I don’t keep blood lying around for long because I know this sort of thing happens, but he was alive less than forty-eight hours ago. And seriously? After what I endured to get this guy’s soul, I could scream.”

“Was he young? Healthy?”

“So far as I could tell. I’m not about to go around nicking the souls of octogenarians who could die before someone has a use for them. I’d run out of people willing to trade with me if that happened too often.” I grunted, scanning the sidewalk for something to kick, but nothing was around. When was this patch of bad luck going to move on?

Somerville police found the bodies of two men murdered in their home very early this morning.

I stumbled to a stop. Dragon shit on toast. Of all the men in that town—was one of the murder victims my blood donor? And could that possibly be a coincidence? Somehow I suspected not. How long would I have to wait before the police released their names so I could check?

I started to say something to Lucen, but his attention was fixed on the two sylphs heading our way. Here we went again. I tensed. Probably sensing it, Lucen stepped in front of me.

The silver-haired sylph sneered at us as they approached. “We’ve been wondering who your partner was, Soul Swapper. Guess we know now.”

“My partner in what?” The protective charm on my anklet flared to life. Stupid thing. It wouldn’t do me any good unless they planned a mental attack, which didn’t seem likely in the middle of the street with Lucen at my side. That the charm sensed danger, though, suggested the sylphs’ magical hackles were raised.

Lucen was smiling in a cold way at the sylphs. “Have you gone from accusing my people of murdering your addicts to accusing a defenseless human then? Very tough of you.”

I wasn’t completely defenseless, but this didn’t seem like the time to point it out.

The white-haired sylph rested a finger on her lips. “We have reason to believe she was involved, yes. But you’re not in the clear, satyr. We also know she’s not working alone.”

The other sylph jabbed her in the ribs with his elbow. “You be careful,” he said to me.

“Why in hell do you think I was involved?” I tried putting a little edge in my voice, as if that would cover up the knot of fear growing in me.

Instead of answering, the sylphs exchanged glances and backed away. Lucen shifted from foot to foot, suddenly pleased about something. Only then did I spin around and discover we weren’t alone on the street anymore. Five new satyrs were marching toward us—four of whom were the big, brawny type who looked like they could tear the delicate sylphs limb from limb. So that must have been what Lucen was doing on the phone at Wenda’s. He’d been gathering a posse.

The sylphs linked arms and picked up their pace in the opposite direction.

“Damn it.” I stuffed my hands in my pockets. “I want to know why they think I’m involved.”

“No, you don’t. It’s not worth your concern, little siren. They’re pissed and looking to take it out on someone, and you make an easy target. That’s all.”

“Why?”

“A group of them tried to intimidate Dezzi the other day,” said one of the new satyrs. I’d never seen him or any of his friends before. He had rich, dark skin and an almost effeminately lovely face, which he no doubt put to use on humans all the time. He certainly beamed at me with an intensity that made me squirm.

I took a step forward in the direction of the T station, hoping they’d follow. I needed to move, to expel the energy building inside me. Being around Lucen could be tough enough. Being around Lucen plus five other satyrs who’d just been primed for a fight and were reeking with power was almost too much to handle. It was either hustle or start stripping in the middle of Shadowtown.

Powered by sheer will, I busted ass because my body would much rather have stripped and discovered what six satyrs could do to one woman.

“So the fighting has already begun?” I asked, hoping to distract myself from my own lascivious imagination.

“In a way, yes,” said another satyr, this one with curly black hair and disarmingly blue eyes. Like Dezzi he had an accent, though his was clearly British. He was also the only one of the group not built like he belonged in a protein supplement advertisement. He slid up beside me, close enough that his shirtsleeve brushed my arm. “Dezzi ordered retaliation.”

On some level my brain realized I should be frightened, but desire was winning out. I didn’t dare look anywhere but at my feet. “Dezzi can order you guys around, huh?”

“She’s our Dom,” Lucen explained.

Ah. Pred society was strictly hierarchical, a remnant from earlier times when they and humans hadn’t precisely coexisted in peace, and a lone pred was far more vulnerable than most humans would have believed. Within any locality these days, each race of preds still had a Dom they answered to, the head of an internal council of sorts. I hadn’t known Dezzi was the satyrs’ Dom. “What happened?”

“We made it clear to their Dom’s second that they’d better lay off with the accusations.”

“So they must be switching their aggression to you,” the black-haired satyr said.

“But why me?”

Lucen shrugged. “Don’t know.”

“Unless it’s because…?”

I couldn’t help myself. I looked up at the black-haired satyr. “Because of what?”

He wiggled his eyebrows. “You’re known to be a friend of Lucen’s, and he’s Dezzi’s third. Possibly they think you’re a friend to all of us, and attacking you would be a form of revenge.”

Lucen was a third? I’d always assumed he was nothing more than a bar owner. All these years and he’d never given me a hint of how much influence he had.

We’d hoofed it so fast we were already by The Lair. The station was a short block away. The group paused by the steps down to the bar.

“Come in.” Lucen’s comment was ostensibly aimed at all of us, but he looked at me when he said it.

“I think I’d better leave.”

“You’d better talk. If this is a sign of things to come, you could be in danger.”

Gee, I didn’t know you cared.
The words stuck in my head. I tried to wet my lips, but my mouth was dry. I couldn’t talk, not with all these satyrs around. My hands were just itching to pull off my shirt, and they weren’t even trying to seduce me. This was insane.

“You won’t be the only human inside,” Lucen said.

I grimaced. They were all tasting my fear and lust. For the love of dragons, this sucked. I might as well take off my clothes because I was completely exposed.

Yet Lucen had a point. I could have a serious problem. “Great,” I muttered. “First a crazy note-writer, now angry sylphs. What did I do to deserve this?”

“What crazy note-writer?”

I clomped down the steps behind him, relieved that all but one of the satyrs were waving goodbye.

The Lair was packed. As Lucen had suggested, the crowd contained a good mix of thrill-seeking humans amidst the satyrs and twiggy harpies. I kept my chin high, preferring none of these people to assume I was some dumbass human chasing death and sex for fun on the weekend. Apparently, that made me the minority. Although some humans huddled together, hoping for safety in numbers, others courted danger or were simply too bespelled to resist it. They hung over the satyrs, seemingly unable to keep their hands or mouths to themselves. Not all the satyrs returned the attention. A couple looked downright bored despite the various levels of undress and stages of sexual activity occurring around them. Shame for my own race and disgust with the satyrs helped me keep my gaze focused ahead.

The rest of the bar’s atmosphere was more typical. Classic rock spilled from the speakers at a reasonable volume. Candles on the tables added to the low light. The smell of food hit my nose and reminded my stomach that it was hungry.

The satyr that had come in with us wandered off to talk to friends, so I followed Lucen to two empty stools at the end of the bar. The satyr pheromones, or whatever it was they exuded, were in better moderation over here. Some of the tension lifted from my shoulders.

“Drink?” Lucen went behind the bar.

“Water, no ice.” After this evening’s disasters I could use something stronger, but I wasn’t about to risk it.

He filled a glass and slid it toward me. “Have you eaten?”

I shook my head.

“What would you like?”

“I didn’t realize you served food.”

“Bar food mostly. But name it, and I’ll have it whipped up for you.” Lucen poured himself a beer.

“Whatever’s good but not too expensive.”

“You really don’t like to live it up, do you, little siren?”

“I live it up plenty. That’s probably why I’m in this mess.”

Lucen left by the door behind the bar. I clutched my drink. I shouldn’t be here. I should be out, tracking down a new soul donor to replace my dead one. Behind my eyes, a headache threatened. I’d better think before it arrived.

A dead soul donor. A murdered soul donor? Could this be a coincidence? Could it be tied to the why the sylphs thought I had something to do with the vanity-addict murders?

Now there was a thought. There were alleged similarities between the Somerville men’s murders and the addict murders. The men’s murders could be—were likely to be?—the work of a copycat killer, but if so, a copycat killer who had done something to get the Gryphons involved. That meant magic played a role. And that meant the sylphs would be looking for someone with magic in the blood that could tie the murders together. Okay, that could be me since I was among a handful of the population with magic.

But that didn’t explain why they thought of me and not a pred or the magi. Unless it was like the black-haired satyr suggested—a result of me being friends with Lucen and the sylphs looking for an easy target. Or unless a sylph had seen me with Friday night’s soul donor. That was far-fetched but not impossible. Hell, it made more sense to be guilty by association than for the sylphs to think I was close enough friends with Lucen to make a good target. For that to be true, Lucen would have to give a damn about me, and I didn’t buy for a second that preds gave a damn about any human. The satyrs as a whole had no clue who I was, and as for Lucen… Nope, I didn’t imagine that was likely. He might be bummed if I was killed, but only in the way a child was bummed if a toy he played with got destroyed.

Maybe not even that since I’d never let Lucen play with me.

The headache officially declared itself. Perfect. I was not making sense of anything tonight.

I rested my head on my arm, praying I gave off a strong enough “go away” vibe that no one, particularly nonhumans, would approach. The bar hummed with energy, a lot of diffuse anxiety from all the dumb humans. Spearmint. Gross. The preds must be sucking up any of the more powerful emotions before I could get them. Feeling even less thrilled about my decision to come here, I reined in my gift to the best of my ability, but the taste of spearmint lingered in the back of my mouth.

Salmon. Suddenly, the alluring aroma of salmon replaced the spearmint. I blinked, until that moment unaware that I’d shut my eyes.