Everyone but Lucen cast surprised glances at the magi. Olef modestly cleaned his glasses and said nothing.
“So,” I continued, “to rehash—the Gryphons created me because of this prophecy, we have confirmation from Olef that I’m part of it, and the furies are acting weird, and as part of that weirdness, they want to keep me alive. Somewhere in the middle of all this, a pred war breaks out in Buenos Aires, very similar to what the furies tried to do here. Now we get to the part that explains why I invited Gunthra to join us. Still want to leave?” I asked her.
Gunthra spun the strand of pearls she wore around her wrist. “No. Proceed.”
I blinked away my surprise. Gunthra did not strike me as the sort to cede the floor. Often enough she talked over people. I really did have everyone’s attention.
“Gunthra’s also been interested in finding out what the furies are up to, and she’s interested in finding out more about the Vessels of Making. I’m going to assume everyone here is familiar with them.” When no one objected, I went on. “I didn’t realize the two might be connected until I saw a mention of the Vessels in one of the books Tom lent me. Since they all dealt, one way or another, with the prophecy, I’m going ahead and making a leap that somehow everything I’ve talked about here is related. I just don’t know how. And now anyone can jump in and fill in the gaps for me because I need more wine.”
Honestly, I needed something stronger at this point. The six faces staring at me around the table suggested their owners felt the same.
“Don’t everyone start talking at once,” I said when the silence grew too heavy.
“Very well.” Gunthra tapped her spindly fingers against her glass. “You have intrigued me, Miss Moore, and I agree that a pooling of knowledge might serve us well at this point. So I’ll explain why I became interested in the Vessels.”
“Let me guess—it’s not a history project?” I rolled my eyes.
Gunthra flattered me with a faint smile. “It’s not exactly a secret that all the Doms in Shadowtown keep an eye on their neighbors. In the aftermath of Mr. Aubrey’s arrest and the unsettlement that followed, one of my council members informed me that the furies had an object of extreme power in their possession. Right here in our own neighborhood.”
“How did they know that?” Devon asked.
Gunthra regarded him disdainfully. “She saw it, and she felt it. She said the magic surrounding it was so strong, so powerful, that it made her skin tingle from yards away. She didn’t get a good look at it, but she described it as a bowl. Ancient-looking, she called it. The furies were treating it as though it was made from the most fragile of china. Very odd for a race whose favorite pastime is destruction.”
“What happened to it?” I asked.
“It would appear that Raj took it with him when he disappeared.”
“Wait.” Tom’s blue eyes no longer fixed me with a death glare. He’d been hooked too. At last. “This Raj person is the local fury Dom. He left?”
Dezzi cleared her throat. “Yes, a couple weeks ago. Along with everything else odd about the furies, that’s also been a concern. Gunthra, you do not know for sure that this object your spy saw was a Vessel?”
Gunthra’s spine straightened. Either she didn’t like her judgment questioned, her goblin being called a spy, or both. “My informer is not the type to exaggerate. If she said it gave off extreme power, it did. There are not many objects that would fit such a description. I began my research, which Miss Moore has been helping with.”
Lucen’s grip on my arm tightened. “Jess, why?”
“Long story?” I gave him an innocent grin.
“Irksome,” Devon whispered to me while Dezzi and Gunthra debated what the goblin had seen. “You’re like the unruly child of this domus.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “I’m neither a child, nor a part of your domus.”
“Can I spank you anyway?”
I elbowed him. Hard.
Meanwhile the two Doms had stopped talking, and Olef coughed politely. “If I may contribute something? I might know why the furies would be interested in the Vessels, historically speaking, that is. Legends have recorded that the Vessels were created to be objects of great power, but the legends rarely say what they were created for.”
“You know?” I asked. Of course he knew. He was Olef. It was why I’d asked for his help.
Apparently I wasn’t the only one in the dark though. Tom was back to looking smug, so he must have known something too, but the preds appeared clueless.
Olef donned his teacher voice. “The Vessels were a dirty business, born of desperation and formed by a collaboration between gifted humans, magi and even some pred races. You see, there is precedent for this meeting Ms. Moore has called. But back on topic, the Vessels were used to create The Pit. Is that name familiar?”
“According to legend, it’s a magical prison,” said Gunthra.
“Correct. It’s gone by many names, but essentially it’s a magical void, a prison in which the original preds were sealed. It was only capable of being created by using the tremendous amounts of power that this collaborative was able to store in the Vessels. Hence, the Vessels of Making. Making The Pit.”
Devon rubbed at his goatee. “But that’s just a myth. I remember hearing that tale told to me as a child, only it was a religious story about how a band of angels locked the demons in prison to save humanity. The Vessels were the cups of God, et cetera.”
“Oh, it’s real,” Olef said. “Many religious traditions laid claim to the glory, but the work done was absolutely real. I have no doubt.”
Tom ran his finger around his wineglass. “There are many manuscripts at World Headquarters that deal with the subject. Some are over a thousand years old. What does this have to do with the prophecy though?”
“As for that, I’m not entirely sure,” Olef admitted. “But I find it concerning that the furies might have an interest in the Vessels.”
“Why?” I asked.
Olef turned his kind eyes on me. “Because the original preds—the people our ancestors called devils and demons—they are furies. All of them. And they are nothing like the furies we know today. They are far less human because they were never human to begin with.”
Silence fell around the table. I didn’t know what the others were thinking, but I was afraid if I moved, shifted even slightly, I might disturb Olef’s words and they wouldn’t penetrate my brain properly. It was taking them a while. Like my brain was rebelling, and I had a good idea why.
The conversation at Vine had picked up along with the clientele. People laughed, glasses clinked together, chairs squeaked on the floor. I felt as though I were in a different world.
Finally, Tom started saying something about records and manuscripts at World, but I didn’t hear much. It sounded like he was confirming Olef’s information, or close to it.
“But I’m not a scholar,” he added. “My work has been focused elsewhere.”
Lucen took my hand. “This is all a lot to take in, but none of it addresses the question of why the furies might have tried protecting Jess. That’s a big gap here.”
“That I don’t know,” Olef said. “It does seem counterintuitive to what Agent Kassin and myself know about Jess, or why she was given her abilities.”
Once again, I was a freak. A missing piece.
It didn’t matter so much. I had a bigger issue with what Olef had told us.
“If these Vessels were used to create this magic prison, then could they be used to un-create it? Is that why the furies might have one? Is that why they could have been trying to start a war here, or why they did in Buenos Aires? Could they be gathering power to store in the Vessels?”
Lucen shook my hand. “There would be your apocalypse.”
Tom rested his head on his hands. His face was pale. “It’s certainly a possibility. We’ll h
ave to look into that.”
I forced a smile although I felt sick to my stomach. Good thing I hadn’t had a full second glass of wine, after all. “Aren’t you glad I’m finally taking this seriously?”
Gunthra stood, the lines of her fake face stretched tightly. “We should all investigate this, and I propose we share what we discover. If Miss Moore is correct, we need to be smart about this.”
“I agree,” Dezzi said, and she stood as well. “We will be in touch.” She offered a hand to Gunthra, and they shook. She did not offer a hand to Tom or Olef, and neither did the goblin, but she nodded respectfully in their direction. “Jessica, see me when you return to Shadowtown.”
Dezzi left money on the table, then gave a signal, and Lucen and Devon followed her out. Gunthra followed suit after a few more words with the men.
Tom and Olef were lost in conversation.
I cleared my throat. “What about me?”
“I have to do some research,” Tom said. “But I’ll be in touch. This, though unorthodox, was well done.”
Peachy. After what I’d put together for them, I was told I’d accomplished the equivalent of an overcooked steak.
“All right then.” I clapped my hands together with sarcastic enthusiasm. “If that’s it, I’m off to buy a lot of desserts and plan an orgy.”
“Excuse me?” Tom gaped at me.
“If the end of the world is coming, and no one has anything for me to do in the meantime, I might as well enjoy myself. Eat, drink and be merry. All that good stuff.”
I said goodbye to Olef and left.
Dezzi was waiting for me in Lucen’s apartment, along with Devon. The Lair was closed until further notice, depriving the satyrs of their unofficial meeting space.
I wondered if Purgatory would become the replacement. It wasn’t in Shadowtown, but it met what appeared to be the other prerequisites—a loaded bar and a healthy atmosphere of debauchery.
“Given what we learned today,” Dezzi said, “I need to know your answer to my offer.”
I’d been expecting the question and had thought long and hard about it on my way back to Shadowtown. Being offered the spot on Dezzi’s council meant a lot to me, and it would offer me much in return. Some protection. A sense of belonging. Power. Since Devon had convinced me to accept what I was, I’d seriously considered it.
But everything had changed. Everything was shifting.
I needed to be able to shift with it. Declaring myself a member of Dezzi’s domus wouldn’t allow for that.
“I can’t,” I told her, walking toward the window. “I almost decided to, but with the way things stand, it doesn’t make sense. You and Gunthra might have formed an alliance, but satyrs and goblins working with magi and the Gryphons… I just don’t see that coming so easily.” And really, Dezzi and Gunthra’s alliance wasn’t likely to be easy either. “But I believe that whatever happens, you’re going to need to make this work. To do that, you’re all going to need someone who can walk and talk both sides. You’ll need a middleperson or a mediator. That’s me. I am a satyr, but I’m a very human one. The Gryphons created me. That means they’ll listen to me. I hope, because I am one of you, that the satyrs—or other preds—will listen to me too.”
Dezzi sighed, but she didn’t look disappointed, and she rested her hand on my shoulder. “You are smart, Jessica. Although this wasn’t the outcome I hoped for, I agree that it makes sense under the circumstances. We all have work to do in the coming days. Much work, I fear.”
“You leaving?” Lucen asked as she headed into the kitchen.
“Did you miss the part where I said there was work to be done?” she asked.
“No, but you specifically said in the coming days.” He grinned.
Dezzi shook her finger at him. “Be prepared to work tomorrow.”
A moment later Lucen’s door shut. A heavy silence settled over the apartment and over my mind. The sense of urgency that had kept me focused and moving forward was gone. Now all I had before me was the unknown—a big, scary unknown.
In his cage, Sweetpea snored in his sleep. Oh, how I envied the dragon right now. To be so blissfully unaware of what was coming.
“Well then.” Devon bounded off the sofa with fake cheerfulness. “This all feels very gloom and doom. Lucen, did the sylphs destroy your stereo or just the bar? I’m in the mood for some R.E.M.”
Lucen leaned against the doorway. “If you play ‘It’s the End of the World As We Know It’, the end of your world will be coming a lot sooner than you expect.”
Devon shook his head sadly. “Sometimes you’re no fun.”
I tossed the bag of sweets I’d bought at Devon. “Sorry, I concur with the blond one. However, I do need a distraction before my anxiety gets the better of me. I brought the food, and we’ve got a bar full of booze downstairs. So which of you is bringing on the merry first?”
About the Author
Tracey Martin grew up outside of Philadelphia, the lucky recipient of a drama-free childhood, which is why she spent so much time reading about other people’s lives. It was while she was working on her doctorate in psychology that she had an epiphany—imaginary people are way more fun than real ones. And so she began writing. Never able to choose just one of anything, she currently writes both urban fantasy for adults and contemporary stories for teens.
She likes her coffee simple, her music epic and her movies to contain explosions. A city girl at heart, she doesn’t understand how she and her husband ended up living in New Hampshire, but writing keeps her off the mean, small town streets. To learn more, you can visit her website at tracey-martin.com, or say hi on twitter to @TA_Martin.
Look for these titles by Tracey Martin
Now Available:
Miss Misery
Wicked Misery
Dirty Little Misery
Lust can be downright lethal.
Dirty Little Misery
© 2014 Tracey Martin
Miss Misery, Book 2
Thanks to her freakish, satyr-like power, Jessica Moore was denied her dream to join the Gryphons, the magical law-enforcement officers protecting humanity from the pred races. But after the Gryphons tried to arrest her for murders she didn’t commit, Jess is no longer interested. Too bad—they are.
Now that they know what she can do, they want Jess on their side. If she doesn’t agree to help them solve a new case, they’ll charge her with every magical crime she’s ever committed.
Nine people are dead. The cause? Exhaustion. The activity? Never-ending sex. Someone sold them tainted F, an illegal aphrodisiac made by satyrs. No surprise, Jess’s satyr allies aren’t pleased with her investigation. Worse, it strains her tenuous relationship with Lucen, the one satyr she counts as a friend.
As Jess delves into the shady satyr business world, she unravels a scheme more sinister than dirty drugs—and her relationship with Lucen unravels right along with it. Only the truth will save their friendship. But not before it turns Jess into an ambitious killer’s next target.
Warning: Contains blackmail, betrayal, and sex that’s literally to die for. Plus plenty of bad stiff jokes to go with it. Remember, just say no to magical drugs.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Dirty Little Misery:
I spun toward Devon, and he caught my eye. Judging from the panic I saw there, he’d had the same epiphany.
His face tightened. He’d gotten on the phone with his security staff and was finishing up the conversation. “Put them in the Blue Room and tie them down if you have to.”
“What is wrong with them?” Lucrezia asked.
“It’s the F,” I said. “It’s probably the same thing that happened in Newton. You want to give me some more BS about how you know nothing?”
Devon hung up and strode over to the elevator. “If people are taking F while they’re here, it’s none
of my business or my responsibility.”
“And if four people end up dead here, then what?”
“Then nothing. We make sure that doesn’t happen.” He stepped into the elevator. “Coming?”
I wasn’t sure if he was asking me or Lucrezia, but I jumped in with her.
The Blue Room turned out to be a private lounge located next to the VIP room, so called because it was painted blue. A large table, laden down with partially eaten food and half-empty glasses of champagne, had been pushed against the wall. The occupants had been kicked out by the time we arrived.
New occupants had replaced them. The bouncers had taken Devon’s instructions literally, although I supposed they hadn’t seen many other options. The four people—three men and the one woman—had each been tied to one table leg where they struggled helplessly, less in anger than in pain. As far as I could sense, they were lost in that erotically excruciating point between pleasure and torture. The one that’s bliss for a little while before climax but would become unbearable if you were left there for too long. Like an itch left unscratched.
I could feel their suffering along with their lust, and with two such strong and potent emotions, it was difficult for me to control myself. My head and muscles buzzed with energy. I longed to be able to turn off my gift like never before.
Even Devon and Lucrezia looked queasy, as though they were being force-fed a meal that was too rich and too plentiful.
“What do we do now?” one of the bouncers asked, wiping sweat from his forehead. He was the same satyr who’d stopped me from entering the VIP room.
Devon threw a glance my way. “If it’s F, they’ll come off it soon enough. Keep them hydrated until they do. I don’t need them exhausting themselves and dying of heart failure.”
“I need to get a blood sample from them,” I said. “And there’s got to be more that can be done to help them. Something to counteract the effects. A sleep charm or a sedative or something.”
Devon ran his hands through his hair. “I don’t exactly carry those sorts of thing around with me, Jess. It’s a club, not an infirmary.”
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