Wicked Misery (Miss Misery)

by Martin, Tracey

  “Wait! There’s a Meat Match in Hartford tonight. I wanted to ask if you’d go with me and some friends.”

  Once again he made me want to bang my head against something hard. “I told you before, no.”

  “Please. Think very, very carefully before you answer this time.”

  “No.”

  The creepy guy on the other end of the line sighed. “I’m disappointed. I didn’t want it to come to this, so I’m going to ask one more time. This is your last chance, Jessica. Will you come to the Matches with me?”

  “Go to hell, you fucknut.”

  “All right. I warned you. I wanted to be your friend, but that was a bad idea. I should have listened to them.”

  Listened to them? This conversation did not bode well for my state of mind. I had a feeling I’d better get a few things straight. “Who are you?”

  “Someone like you, Jessica. Remember that when the time comes.”

  “When what times comes?” Yeah, calling him a fucknut probably hadn’t been wise. In fact, ditching him like a bad date was probably also not wise. I might have a genuine psycho stalking me. “Look, if you want to tell me your name and we can meet again—”

  “Too late. I’m not interested anymore. I thought you’d be more like me. Instead, you’re like them—prey.”

  “I—” But the phone clicked.

  I stared at the wall in the brief seconds of silence that followed. Then dial tone broke my stupor. Just freaking peachy. A possibly insane, anonymous, misery slurper was pissed at me. I didn’t know his name, his face or whether he was the same asshole who’d broken into my apartment. At this rate, I should plan on bargaining with a pred for some serious protective magic when I went soul trading after work.

  Alas, before I could bargain for protection, I had to bargain for directions.

  “Wanda’s Wishes,” I told Lucen. “I’ve been walking up and down the main drags for an hour and I can’t find it. Do you know where it is?”

  I’d checked the phone book and the Internet before leaving for Shadowtown, but the shop didn’t appear in either place. I hadn’t worried. Preds who did business with humans tended to keep shop along one of two major streets. The first one ran straight by the T station. A block up from Lucen’s bar, the second street cut perpendicular. I’d since hiked my way along both of them to no avail.

  Maybe I should have searched harder before leaving, but not finding the shop hadn’t been a big surprise. Preds didn’t advertise much, and most of them had unlisted phone numbers.

  “Hold on. Paulius is running bar for me. Let me ask him.” It sounded like Lucen put the phone down.

  I sat on the stoop of Wyrdd Words, a goblin-owned bookstore chain, and tried not to stare at the ghoul hunched over on the sidewalk. Someone must have taken pity on her and bought her a real dinner, in so much as fast food could be considered real food. The aroma of burger and fries made my stomach rumble. It was almost seven o’clock, and I hadn’t eaten since ten.

  “You still there, little siren?”

  “Nowhere else to go.”

  “Could perhaps your client have meant Wenda’s Wishes?”

  Yeah, that would make more sense. Wenda was not an uncommon goblin’s name. “Could be. You know where it is?”

  “Not exactly. It’s off the main roads, sort of across the street from the produce market.”

  I ground a pebble into the concrete with my heel. “That doesn’t help me. Street name? Directions from Wyrdd Words or the T?”

  “I’m not exactly sure what cross street you need. Where are you?”

  The ghoul stuffed a fry in her mouth and offered me the box. I shook my head. “I’m at Wyrdd Words.”

  “Good. Hang on a minute, and I’ll be there.”

  “You don’t need to—”

  “It’s a good idea anyway. Hang on.”

  Well, it wasn’t like I had many other options. I stuck the phone away. The ghoul offered me her fries again, this time with a grunt in lieu of words.

  “No thanks.”

  Dirt filled in the lines of her face. Even the whites of her eyes looked gray. Greasy strands of formerly blonde hair framed her face. She reached for a fry with a hand so filthy she might have been wearing gloves. Chipped red polish stood out on her nails like splattered blood.

  I left her to her dinner and poked around inside the bookshop for a couple minutes, flipping through a tome called The Care and Feeding of Addicts. At first, it was fascinating to peruse a pred’s perspective on humans, but when I stopped skimming and started reading the introduction, my blood pressure rose so fast the goblin behind the counter picked up on it. Embarrassed, I shut the book and trudged back outside.

  Lucen had just turned the corner, so my timing was good. He had on black pants, his plum button-down shirt was tucked in to show off his waist, and his sleeves were rolled up. Although I preferred my guys in jeans or leather, my body perked up nonetheless.

  Think of the horns, I told myself. But that made me wonder about the goat legs again and that never led to pure thoughts.

  Lucen smiled at me and then down at the ghoul. Familiarity flooded the ghoul’s eyes, and longing replaced some of the emptiness in her hollow face.

  “You know her?” I swore if she’d been one of his addicts, I was going to kick Lucen in the nuts whether I needed his help or not.

  “I don’t know whose she was, but she’s been around for a bit.” He knelt next to her. “Someone buy you dinner, Laura love?”

  The ghoul nodded.

  “Good.” He patted her cheek in a fatherly way. Red bloomed in the spot where Lucen touched her and spread out in a pink wave across her features. Down to her toes, I’d have been willing to bet. For that second, life returned to her, and I got a glimpse of the normal thirty-something woman she’d once been.

  Had she still been an addict, Lucen couldn’t have had that effect on her. Addicts were tied to their masters, and although one pred could steal another’s addicts, doing so wasn’t easy. But a ghoul was a discarded addict, the magical bond had been broken. She was fair game. Not that anyone would want her.

  Lucen straightened. “I try to feed her when I see her around, but I guess someone else got to it tonight. You ready?”

  “Yeah.” I clomped down to the street, hands in my pockets.

  “Why are you so angry all of a sudden? I didn’t leave her like that.”

  The joys of Shadowtown. Might as well wear a neon sign on my forehead to advertise my feelings. “I didn’t say you did.”

  “But yet you’re mad at me.”

  “I’m feeling annoyed in general.” It was true enough that he might believe it. But Lucen was right. For some reason, my anger was directed at him. I hadn’t lost that urge to kick him, and I hadn’t the faintest idea why, nor did I want to ponder it. “I was reading a book before you got here, and the authors were suggesting that a human’s natural state was as an addict. They felt humans had to be constrained for their own good, that we only create havoc and ruin the planet otherwise. Do you actually believe that?”

  He shrugged. “It’s a controversial opinion.”

  “You think?”

  A smirk flickered across his lips and disappeared. He stopped at the intersection and looked in both directions. “One more block.”

  We walked in silence until I couldn’t take it anymore. A weird range of emotions played out over Lucen’s face—the hint of a smile that faded to pinched lips that turned to a frown and sullen eyes. It was as though he was having some conversation in his head. “What?”

  “You still haven’t explained why you’re angry at me.”

  “I’m not.” Dragon shit on toast. It was pointless trying to lie to a pred. “I don’t know why.”

  “Don’t you?”

  “No. I suppose you think you do know.”

  “Yes.”

  “Great. Care to share your theory?”

  “No.”

  I crossed my arms. “Why not?”

  “
Because I like you, little siren, and so I try not to pry too deeply into your head.”

  “But you’ve already pried.”

  “Not this time.” He pointed left. “You wear your emotions close to the surface.”

  I refused to follow. “Look, I’m already having a crappy day, so if there’s anything you need to say to me, then say it.”

  “Jess, relax. I have nothing to say. You’re the one trying to pick a fight. We’re almost there.” He walked on without waiting.

  Strangling him would be nice. Then I thought of all the negativity I was projecting and all the preds, seen and unseen, who were soaking it up. I stormed by Lucen and saw the sign for Wenda’s Wishes. “Thanks for showing me the way.”

  Lucen didn’t leave. He continued with me down the sidewalk, and I frowned at him by the shop door. “I’m fine. Go back to The Lair. I can find my way to the T from here.”

  “I’m sure you can, but I think it’s safer if I stay.”

  “Why?”

  He motioned over his shoulder. “Because the two sylphs who were watching you at the bookstore are still on your tail.”

  Chapter Eight

  “What?” I spun around, almost smacking into Lucen. He flinched. I flinched. No doubt our reasons were very different. I lowered my hand carefully before it brushed his chest.

  Two sylphs—the same two from earlier in the week—hung back at the corner, looking our way.

  “They’ve been following us?”

  “You, I think,” Lucen said. “They were watching you from down the street when I arrived. You probably couldn’t see them.”

  I swallowed. “Why?”

  “I imagine we’ll find out. With me around, they shouldn’t be dumb enough to try anything.”

  “Great. Can’t wait.”

  The shop door was propped open, and the scent of incense wafted through the doorway. The inside was dark, and colorful jewelry hung from the walls. Charm vials, I realized. The walls were covered in thousands of different styles of charm vials, most no larger than an innocuous-looking necklace bead. An unscrupulous person could so easily hide a curse in something like that, or string multiple curses together. One bead for a migraine, another to attract imps, a third for general bad luck. Wicked.

  The goblin behind the counter cleared her throat. She glanced between me and Lucen, obviously confused about what a satyr was doing in the company of a nonaddict human. Lucen pulled a cellphone from his pocket and stepped away, making it clear which of us the goblin should deal with. “Can I help you?”

  “Yeah, I’d like to make a trade.” I set the blood vial on the counter. “You have a contract with the soul of a Josephine Gomes. I’d like to offer you this soul in exchange. Plus commission, of course.”

  “Ah, you.” The goblin—Wenda?—narrowed her large eyes at me. The wrinkles that formed on her grayish face made me think of elephant skin. “You’re the one they call the Soul Swapper, are you?”

  “I am.”

  She made a purring noise in the back of her throat. “Wondered when I’d be getting a visit from you. What’s the commission?”

  “Ten percent of whatever I’m getting for the job, but no less than ten dollars, for your time.”

  “And this one’s worth?”

  “Ten dollars.”

  Wenda snorted. “That’s not a lot for my time.”

  Damn goblins. They always wanted to bargain.

  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.