[M__M 03] Misery Loves Company

by Tracey Martin

  “Is there any way the Gryphons can do something?” Steph asked as we dug in.

  “What do you mean?”

  She doused her fries in ketchup and offered me the bottle. “Is there any method they can use to prevent Tim’s motion to get Eric declared incompetent? So long as there’s a chance Eric can get his soul returned, it’s not right for Tim to do this. Besides, someone needs to take care of Eric if he can’t do it himself. His money will make it possible to hire someone, and I don’t believe for a second that Tim will see to it except in the most basic, shitty of ways. Eric needs that money.”

  It was a good point, and I was glad to see Steph was thinking through all the angles. “I don’t know, but I can certainly ask Bridget. Let’s also look for the name of Eric’s lawyer while we’re there. Maybe he can file some kind of counter-motion. If nothing else, maybe we can tie Tim’s hands until we know whether we’ll be successful with helping Eric.”

  “Good idea. He’s got to have a lawyer, right?”

  “Got to.” So we could hope.

  We finished dinner and headed to Eric’s house, which appeared all the more impressive now that I had some fading sunlight in which to view it.

  “You know, it’s a good thing he doesn’t have an alarm system.”

  Steph opened the door and stuck the key back in her pocket. “New Hampshire,” she said, and I could hear the shrug in her words.

  Once more, my eyes were drawn immediately to the artwork and the impressively high ceiling. As a result, I was unprepared for being attacked around the ankles. I swore and nearly hit said ceiling as something banged into me.

  The something let out a plaintive meow.

  “Oh, shit.” Steph dumped her purse on a table. “I forgot all about the cat last night. He was sleeping.”

  Bending down, I rubbed the cat’s head. He was a handsome thing. Black with white around his paws, like he was wearing shoes. He closed his eyes, enjoying the attention to all appearances, but most likely wondering how long he’d have to do this before I fed him. “Cat food?”

  “I’m sure we’ll find it. You want to check? Take the downstairs, and I’ll look upstairs for Eric?”

  “Deal.”

  I paused in all the rooms en route to the kitchen, checking for Eric, but I didn’t see him. Finally, I heard Steph yell that she had. Letting her tend to him, I opened and closed all the kitchen cabinets, on the hunt for cat food. I found some in a pantry and set out several scoops for my hungry, feline friend.

  Eric’s food and water, I noticed, hadn’t been touched. Bad sign. If he wasn’t foraging for himself, he was really far gone. Most ghouls had enough sense of self-preservation to seek out food and water. They might not seek it with a lot of effort, but they weren’t comatose either.

  Maybe it was the shock to his system. Maybe it would wear off? I had to hope. Otherwise, Eric was going to need more help than anticipated, and that was definitely going to cost a lot of money.

  “Steph!” I yelled upstairs from the foyer. “You’d better make sure to get food in him. I’m going hunting for that contract and a lawyer.”

  “He didn’t eat?” she called back down. “Oh, fucking-A.”

  Leaving her to it, I decided to attack the most logical room in the house first. That such a room also happened to be the extremely impressive library was a bonus.

  I could hear Steph coaxing Eric down the stairs as I flipped on the lights. Last night, aside from all the books, I’d noticed a corner of the room had been given over into what could be an office. A large, stately desk sat in front of the window. Behind it, blending in nicely with the bookcases, was a cabinet.

  Eric was neat. Good for him. Very few items cluttered the desk—a planner, an L.L. Bean catalog, and some papers on which he’d scrawled notes about Swiss bank accounts, Nazis and World War II. Judging by a couple nonfiction books sitting on the desk, I assumed he’d been making notes for his next thriller.

  Eric’s laptop, no surprise, was password protected, so I moved on to the drawers next, but they contained nothing illuminating. Just copies of book contracts, more research notes and invoices from contractors, along with the usual things like a checkbook and pens.

  Dragon shit on toast. If I’d made a contract with a goblin for my soul, I’d have kept a copy of that contract in a secure place. Assuming it was a legal contract, that was. But that’s exactly what I had been assuming.

  Contracts for black-market deals—the ones that bought you things like curses, unlicensed disguise charms and other illegal activities—well, those were usually not written down for obvious reasons. But massive success or luck? Totally legit and probably signed in triplicate. After all, a contract like that protected not just the stupid human, but also the pred should the human decide to renege on the deal and try to break the contract once they got what they wanted.

  The cabinet then? I tried the door, but it was locked. Unfortunate because I didn’t see a key anywhere. Perhaps Steph had a bobby pin. I wasn’t bad at picking cheap locks, but I needed something to work with, and Eric didn’t have so much as a paperclip in his desk.

  Next, I scanned Eric’s planner for the name of anyone who might be a lawyer, but the thing was empty. Clearly, whatever Eric used to keep track of his calendar, it wasn’t this fancy leather volume. No, he probably used his phone, like I did. Speaking of which, I’d bet that was where I’d find the name of his lawyer.

  Brilliant.

  With a sigh of longing and frustration, I left the library and joined Steph in the kitchen where she was eating a cookie from the bag I’d seen in Eric’s cabinet. At the table, her cousin was feeding himself a sandwich with a sadly comical lack of coordination.

  Steph held out the bag for me. “He had a bunch of cold cuts in the fridge, but I didn’t find much to cook. I can’t believe he hasn’t eaten all day. Is that normal?”

  “Wish I knew.”

  “Will his coordination improve? He knew what to do when I handed him the sandwich.”

  I watched Eric struggle to take a bite. He got it, but not on the first attempt. “Same answer. So long as he is eating though…”

  Then what? I didn’t know how to finish my own sentence.

  All these depressing thoughts convinced me to grab a cookie. “I can’t find a contract in the library, but this house is huge. I need to do a lot more searching. In the meantime, did you find his phone? His lawyer’s number is probably in there.”

  “Phone’s in his bedroom,” Steph said, clipping the bag shut. “I found his charger in there last night and plugged it in. There’s also another small room upstairs that’s got filing cabinets in it. You might try that. It’s at the end of the hall, after his bedroom.”

  “Excellent. I’ll go to it.”

  Eric’s bedroom was huge, and it took a minute to find the phone. It also smelled, kind of like Eric had been sitting in it all day, in the heat. Since I hadn’t noticed the odor downstairs, I assumed Steph had covered him in deodorant. Thank you, Steph. Poor Eric. If he did get his soul back, I could only imagine how he’d feel about the ordeal, assuming he remembered it.

  I grabbed the phone and was halfway down the hall when I heard a door slam on the first floor. Mid-stride, I switched direction and darted down the stairs in case Steph needed help.

  But it wasn’t Steph making the noise. An unfamiliar man, who nevertheless bore a passing resemblance to Eric, stood in the foyer. If I’d been paying attention a moment ago, I’d have noticed his foul combination of butterscotch confusion and curry-flavored annoyance.

  He glowered at me, annoyance turning to alarm. “Who are you?”

  “Tim?” I shook my head. “I mean, are you Tim?”

  “How do you—?”

  Saved by Steph, who charged into the room. “What are you doing here?”

  Tim blinked at her. “Stephen?”

  Steph
’s hands balled into fists at her side. Though her shot of rage wasn’t directed at me, the intensity of her anger almost bowled me over because I wasn’t braced for it. Hot, smoky energy flooded my mouth and veins. Head rush.

  “It’s Steph. And what are you doing here?”

  “Taking care of my brother, as is my right and responsibility. Now get out. You don’t have my permission to be here.”

  Steph stepped forward, her hands still clenched. “Taking care of him? By planning to bleed him dry?”

  Tim pulled a phone from his pocket. “Out before I call the cops.”

  “Jess, are you—?”

  Frantically, I shook my head at her. Not officially, I mouthed.

  Steph scowled, but she apparently remembered what I’d explained earlier. “Fine. Your brother is having dinner. See to it that he eats everything. It’s been his only meal today. And while you’re at it, you might want to give him a bath.”

  “A bath?” Tim repeated.

  Steph pushed by him. “Oh, and make sure to leave out extra food and water for the cat.”

  “Jesus,” Tim muttered. He held out a hand. “Where’s the key?”

  “I left it in the kitchen.” With that lie, Steph threw open the door and stormed out.

  I hurried after her before Tim could discover there was no key in the kitchen and that Steph was driving Eric’s BMW.

  Chapter Seven

  “He’s not going to kill Eric, right?” Steph asked, pulling out of the circular driveway.

  I opened the contact list on Eric’s phone. “You would know him better than I do.”

  Steph’s scowl deepened. “I do. That’s why I’m worried and turning to you for reassurance that Tim wouldn’t be so stupid.”

  “You want me to lie?”

  “I want you to give me comfort.”

  “You know I’m no better at the warm and fuzzy stuff than you are, but it seems unlikely that your cousin would be so dumb.”

  Steph exhaled. “All right then. I shouldn’t feel guilty about leaving Eric in his brother’s care. I don’t suppose you found the contract before we got kicked out?”

  “Nope, but I do think I found the name of his lawyer.” With a cry of triumph, I sent the information to myself as backup in case I lost control of Eric’s phone. “Maybe he knows about the contract.”

  Unless Steph could sneak us both back into her cousin’s house, it might be the best I could do.

  Steph dropped me off outside The Lair, and although she looked like she could use a drink, she laughed at my offer to go in. I hadn’t expected anything else.

  Monday night meant the bar was pretty dead. I saw a few familiar faces nursing beers or eating the pred equivalent of lunch, but no one I’d had much contact with. There were a couple harpies, a table of satyrs, and not a single human. A typical crowd for the day and time.

  Lucen locked my eyes as I snagged an empty stool near the back. Before I could say anything, he put my favorite beer in front of me. “Long day?”

  “Yeah.” I reached for his hand, trailing my fingers over his skin. Delicious, tingly warmth ran up my arm.

  Smiling, Lucen leaned against the bar and took my hand in his other one. “So what did Gunthra want with you?”

  I held in my groan. She was the reason I’d stopped by, but that didn’t mean I wanted to discuss it. The subject was unlikely to end well. “You remember how you once thought the furies were trying to start a pred war when they framed me for their murders?”

  Whatever Lucen was expecting me to say, it didn’t appear to have been that. He frowned as though assuming I’d changed the topic. Boy, he was in a for a bad surprise. “Yeah. Why?”

  “Gunthra believes it. She asked me over because she wants me to give her all the information the Gryphons have on the furies’ activities from around that time.”

  “That is interesting.” Lucen let go of my hand and stole a swallow of the beer. “Almost as interesting as why she would think you’d give her that information.”

  He said it like a statement, but it was obviously a question. I became grateful for the beer and stalled, taking a drink. “I owe her.”

  “You owe her?”

  I shrugged sheepishly, trying for my most endearing face. “I never did explain to you how I found out that I’m part, er, quasi satyr. She’s the one who told me.”

  Lucen stared at me, then without a word, set a shot glass on the bar and poured himself some top-shelf bourbon. “When?”

  “Before the Meat Match when we took down Victor Aubrey. It was Gunthra’s information that managed to keep me alive.” I cleared my throat, wincing. “I struck a deal with her. The truth about myself in return for a favor at a later date. This is the favor she’s calling in.”

  “For sin’s sake, Jess. Every time I think you couldn’t possibly do something crazier, you remind me just how impossible you are.”

  I crossed my arms. “Yeah, well, you were acting like an overprotective jerk at the time. I had to be able to take care of myself. Besides, I was cautious about how I worded the deal. In the grand scheme of things, what she’s asking me to do isn’t much.”

  “But it’s something.” Lucen raised his hands like he wanted to strangle me. Or punch someone. “It’s something that’s reckless and unnecessary and could have gotten you in a world of pain.”

  “But didn’t because although I might be reckless, I’m not an idiot. I put certain conditions around the deal.”

  “No, you’re not an idiot.” He lowered his voice, although I don’t think anyone could have heard us. “I didn’t say you were, but why am I learning about this now? Why didn’t you tell me how you found out earlier?”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Really? Because you’re doing exactly what I feared you’d do. You’re freaking out.”

  “This is not a freak-out. But if it were, it would be justified. You made a deal with the goblins’ Dom.”

  “A well-thought-out deal.” Okay, that was stretching the truth a bit. “To get information that was vitally important and that no one else seemed to know.”

  Lucen downed his bourbon. “You didn’t give us any time to check around.”

  “We didn’t have time, if you recall. The sylphs were gunning for my soul.”

  “Some days, I swear, I would like to see Assym try for it. Then you could drive him crazy instead of me.”

  “That’s not funny.” I had no reason to fear Assym going after my soul, not any longer. But at the time, it had been a very real fear, and it was Gunthra who had clued me in to the nature of my abilities. Particularly the part about how I could reverse the pred-addict bond and take a pred’s power from them.

  Lucen grabbed my hand again. “You’re right. It’s not funny, but neither is you making deals with the goblins and not telling me. I don’t want to see you get hurt, little siren.”

  I sighed. “I know that, but this is why I didn’t tell you. You’re upset.”

  “Damn right I’m upset. I care about you.”

  Which, naturally, was why he was pushing me on other men. I didn’t say it aloud, but the irony of it stabbed me in the heart.

  Alas, I didn’t need to say things aloud for Lucen to pick up on what I was feeling. “Now what?”

  I rested my head on my arm. “Just thinking about how screwed up we are.”

  “We’re not screwed up. You just have a talent for getting into trouble and some unfortunate hang-ups.”

  I raised my head to find him smirking. At least his bad mood had passed. “I do not have hang-ups. I simply fail to find anyone else as fascinating as you.”

  “There’s an obvious reason for that.”

  I tossed my drink napkin at him.

  Lucen left for a minute to go fill another round for the table of harpies, but I remained with my butt planted on the stool, finishing the beer. My e
motions swirled—relief, confusion, worry. Whichever. It was all negative. All giving me more of a buzz than the beer could and feeding the preds in the bar. Ugh.

  The Lair’s door opened, allowing a cool breeze to blow through the room. Behind it, came Devon. I dropped my gaze to my bottle, more unwanted emotions rising to the surface.

  I’d spoken too soon earlier. There was someone out there who was almost as fascinating as Lucen, for no other reason than that his satyr magic had the same effect on me as Lucen’s did.

  And I didn’t like it.

  I’d attributed Lucen’s ability to stir lust in me to our personal connection. The fact that I liked him and cared about him. For a while that had made sense because he was the only satyr who had that effect on me.

  Not so anymore. The more time I’d spent in Devon’s company recently, the more his power had begun to creep over me in the same way. At first, I’d thought my immunity to pred power was wearing off, but it was dawning on me that wasn’t the case. It was just something about Lucen and Devon.

  To use someone else’s words, I had a thing for powerful satyrs.

  Or did I? Devon was Dezzi’s lieutenant, the second-highest-ranking satyr in Boston, a fact I usually forgot until I did something that pissed him off and he very subtly reminded me of it. He was friendly and—I supposed—funny when he wanted to be. Oh, and he flirted with me at every possible opportunity. Although he was nowhere near as hot as Lucen, he wasn’t bad looking either, with bright blue eyes and a mouth that was rarely serious.

  If he weren’t a satyr, Devon would have his charms.

  But he was, and I didn’t like one bit that I could sense his power. I didn’t trust him and didn’t want to like him. The fewer satyrs I had any interest in whatsoever, including as friends, the better off I would be. Who wanted to get attached to people who you weren’t sure could get attached in return?

  I kept my head down until I heard the door open again, and I caught Devon’s back as he left. The quick visit suggested he’d been here on satyr business. Devon had his own job to do in the evenings.