Misery Happens

by Tracey Martin

  I’d also hate myself though. The Gryphons and satyrs might balk, but I could take a single hour off practicing. Worst-case scenario, I’d stay up an hour later to make up for it.

  “Yes, totally,” I said before I could change my mind. “What’s up?”

  “Oh, good. I was thinking it might not be a bad idea to buy some charms. Protections for me and Jim.”

  I waved a couple fingers at Lucen as he strode into the kitchen. “It can’t hurt.”

  “That was my reasoning, but a lot of people are thinking the same thing. I’ve heard prices have shot way up, and I haven’t bought a charm of any sort in years. I have no idea which shops to trust or what’s a fair price. I did some research online, but it’s not that useful. Most of the stuff I’ve found is only about staying away from pred shops.”

  And yet some of the best charm makers I’d met were preds. I wasn’t about to drag Steph into Shadowtown though, nor would she want to go. For the types of charms she was interested in, a magi would do just as well.

  “Do you want to meet around five at the hospital?” The hospital she worked at was near The Feathers, and Steph would be getting off from work around then. I’d probably be ready for a break too.

  “Five thirty?”

  “Done. See you then.” I hung up as Lucen was divvying up the eggs, bacon and toast onto two plates. “I’ll need to take a break this afternoon.”

  He carried the plates to the table, and I joined him with the coffee. “So I heard. What’s going on with Steph? That was Steph, wasn’t it?”

  “Yup.” We talked and ate and were in the middle of cleaning up when both our phones received a text within seconds of each other. I dropped my dishtowel. “Tom.”

  “Dezzi.”

  Weird, and I hoped it was a coincidence. I read the message, which was short and demanding, even for Tom. news now xander

  “Xander’s holding a press conference,” Lucen said, explaining. Dezzi must have provided more details.

  We both dashed into the living room, and Lucen flipped to a local station. The press conference had just started, and Xander was already in the middle of speaking. Behind him I could make out the façade of what appeared to be city hall, plus his bodyguards and a few magi I didn’t recognize. In front of him was a sizable contingent of the press, both local and national.

  Lucen put a protective hand on my arm, no doubt sensing—as I did—that for Xander to have drawn this large a crowd, he must have enticed the press with something juicy. Granted, he was a city councilor and a well-known name in Massachusetts politics, but his reach didn’t typically extend beyond the greater Boston area.

  Xander’s four-fingered hands adjusted the paper he was reading from, and the mics picked up on the noise. “There has been much anger and understandable frustration expressed lately with how the current situation is being handled. Of course, we all expect politicians to bungle a crisis, and Congress and the President have not let us down.”

  He paused for polite laughter. “But our representatives and the President can be held accountable for their actions. There is another group, however, which lacks that sort of oversight. I’m speaking of the Angelic Order of the Gryphon.”

  Lucen let out a low whistle, and my jaw might have dropped an inch. There was no way Xander was going there. The magi had allied themselves with the Gryphons for centuries. Legend had it that it was, in fact, the magi who’d originally given humans the gift of magic so they could protect themselves from preds.

  “It is said Gryphons are born, not made,” Xander continued. “That fewer than one-hundredth of one percent of humans carry what the Gryphons refer to as a gift. If you have it, you are one of them. If you do not, you can never be one of them. But the Gryphons would be quick to point out that with their gift comes a great responsibility. They protect the rest of humanity from preds and magic-related crimes. But what happens when the Gryphons fail to do that? Or, perhaps more accurately in this case, what happens when they choose not to?”

  He was going there. He was totally going there. I didn’t believe this.

  Lucen snatched the remote and turned up the volume.

  “Let us consider,” said a louder Xander. “In these past couple weeks, even before the sky turned red, Gryphons from Boston and around the world were forming an alliance with the very preds they are supposed to protect us from. Purportedly, these meetings were held to prevent the catastrophes that have struck as late—here, Atlanta, Sydney, Buenos Aires. And do I need to point out the sky above?” Xander turned his face upward. The backs of several reporters’ heads suggested they were doing the same.

  “The Gryphons failed. But has that stopped them from conferring with preds? No, it hasn’t. Do we expect better from them? Of course, we do. But why should we? Any human can be born with a so-called gift. It does not make them a better, smarter or braver person. Take, for example, Victor Aubrey. The serial killer who recently terrorized Boston and who confessed to killing at least ten people—he had a gift.”

  The crowd murmured. I swore, and so did Lucen.

  Victor’s gifted status had been carefully hidden from the public for good reasons. Also, Victor had not actually been a Gryphon. Like me, he’d been kicked out of the trainee program, something Xander so conveniently didn’t bother to mention. Although, it was true enough that Victor hadn’t been kicked out because he was a sick bastard. He’d been booted for the same reason Mitch and Grace and I had been—the Gryphons didn’t think our gifts had developed.

  “Or take another example,” Xander continued. “You might have heard the name Jessica Moore mentioned in connection with Aubrey. You might recognize her as the woman who was supposed to testify against Aubrey in court.”

  My stomach dropped right to the floor, and I involuntarily covered my mouth with a hand. Oh, shit. Lucen took my other hand, but the set of his jaw made it clear that he wasn’t in the mood for comforting me. More like killing a certain red-feathered magi. That made two of us.

  Xander glanced up from his notes, and I could have sworn his golden eyes met mine through the wires connecting us. “What the Gryphons never told you is that Moore also has a gift. Moore is a vigilante, known by some in this city as the Soul Swapper. She used her power to steal people’s blood and traded their souls to preds for monetary compensation. And how did she gain the trust of preds to do this? She accomplished that because her gift goes beyond the traditional; she has powers like a satyr. She can seduce people into doing whatever she needs. If that’s not scary enough, you should know it was the Gryphons who gave her that ability. And the Gryphons have been willing to overlook her crimes to get her to cooperate with them.”

  In the kitchen, my cell rang. What would no doubt be the first of hundreds of calls. I silently screamed a million curses at Xander.

  “Lately, some people have been saying that magic is the problem in our world. Magic has caused the devastation we’re seeing. I say no.” Xander lowered his notes and stared right into the cameras. He must have practiced his poses. “Magic itself is not the culprit. It’s the misuse of magic. It’s putting magic in the hands of a select few who, for no meritorious reasons, have the ability to wield it. That is the problem. Perhaps it is time humanity reconsider the role the Angelic Order of the Gryphon plays in our society. Perhaps it’s time to clip their wings before it’s too late.”

  Xander nodded a confirmation that he was finished, and the scene erupted with shouting. Reporters practically burst open with questions that Xander refused to answer. Finally, his bodyguards caught up to him and escorted him away against the noisy backdrop. The TV station switched over to an anchor for the recap, and Lucen hit the off button.

  My whole body was cold as I sank to the floor. “I… I… He just said all that, didn’t he? I’m not having some weird, waking nightmare?”

  “I’m going to pluck every feather from his damn body. I’m going to find
an oven big enough to roast him like a chicken. Jess.” Lucen knelt next to me and pulled hair out of my face. “Jess?”

  “He… I… Fuck.”

  “It’s going to be…” Lucen sighed. “Never mind. It’s not going to be okay, but we can deal. We’ve dealt with worse.”

  I dug my fingers into his arms. “My mother doesn’t even know half the things Xander just told reporters. He exposed… Gah.” Speaking was challenging when you couldn’t breathe, and it wasn’t merely my lungs failing me. It was my brain.

  Lucen pried my fingers off him and squeezed my shoulder. Both of our phones were going crazy. “It’s not only you, little siren. Xander threw the entire Gryphon organization under the proverbial bus. The feather-brained idiot proved himself to be more arrogant than Claudius. There is going to be hell to pay for him.”

  I swallowed. “Possibly, but what’s said can’t be unsaid. Not when all the major news channels are covering it. Shit. Even my mother didn’t know.”

  Lucen stood, dragging me off the floor with him. “Then it might be time to call her before she finds out another way.”

  Nodding dumbly, I picked up my phone from the kitchen table and had to resist the urge to smash it when it rang again. “What is Xander thinking? He can’t possibly be this pissed off because Raia shared information his people had been holding on to. Is this really retaliation for not getting his share of the glory?”

  “No idea.” Lucen opened the fridge and got out Sweetpea’s breakfast of raw meat. “Despite what I just called him, Xander can’t be a complete fool. I imagine he’s trying to do two things. He wants to protect himself and the magi from becoming shooting targets thanks to the HELP Act, and he’s positioning himself politically. People aren’t happy. He doesn’t want that unhappiness associated with him.”

  Sadly, I could understand it if fear for himself and the magi were part of Xander’s reasoning. I hated the HELP Act too. Almost as much as I hated Xander. But fear was no excuse for throwing other people into the line of fire for you.

  If this was how the day was starting off, I needed more caffeine. I wandered back into the kitchen to refill my mug. “Is it too early to start putting whiskey in my coffee?”

  Chapter Twelve

  Lucen left not long after the press conference ended, ostensibly to go check on how Azria was doing with Devon, but mostly—I suspected—to meet Dezzi face-to-face to discuss the Xander situation. He could have done it over the phone, but he wanted to give me privacy to speak with my mother.

  I’d turned the volume off on my phone while I tried to calm down, and it sat on the kitchen table, taunting me. A snake poised to bite if I got too close. It was a shame I didn’t have voice control with it. I wished I could tell it to dial my mother’s number without needing to touch it. That way I wouldn’t risk seeing how many calls and texts I’d missed.

  Since I had no such luck, I braced myself and checked. I had texts from Steph and Tom, and I’d been included in a bunch of group messages sent by various members of the Brotherhood. Those things I could handle. The missed-call log, however, was more annoying. Reporters, more reporters if I had to guess, and possibly reporters from as far away as the UK. It was kind of hard to tell since I deleted all the messages mostly unheard. Some of them were from people I hadn’t spoken to in years.

  I also had a message from my mother. Dragon shit on toast. I’d huddled on the sofa pretending to calm down for too long, and she’d gotten the news elsewhere. Her message wasn’t long, simply: “Jess, call me.” She sounded worried.

  Taking my not-spiked second cup of coffee into the living room, I returned to my spot on the sofa and called her back before my phone burst into song yet again.

  She picked up before I heard a ring. “Sweetie, is there something you’ve been meaning to tell me?”

  “Nice, Mom. Way to lay on the guilt when I’m already a mess.” I dropped my head to my knees. It would be easier if she was angry with me. Then I could get defensive.

  Every parent needs to have that talk with their children, the one that’s potentially awkward for the kid and possibly sad for the parent as they realize the cute baby they held in their arms has developed into an entirely different sort of creature—a hormonal adolescent. My conversation with my mother was basically the same deal, only the kid was the one doing the explaining and the different creature was more literal than not.

  Is it any wonder I hadn’t wanted to have this discussion? Initially, I’d refrained from telling her about my misery-feeding abilities because it would freak her out. Not to mention I didn’t understand them and feared I’d be banished from human society for them.

  Then I didn’t tell her how I’d turned those abilities into assets, using them to alleviate my guilt by helping others. And when I found out what had really happened to me and what I really was, telling my mother the truth became more difficult. My mother feared preds, as did most sensible humans. Because I loved her, it killed me to imagine how much the news would hurt her.

  Unfortunately, I had no choice now but to confess it all. Xander had robbed me of the possibility of finding a gentle way to break the news.

  She was very calm on the other end, very quiet when I finished pouring my guts out. “Is that everything?”

  Yes, it’s everything. It’s more than everything. More than enough.

  I took a deep breath, thankful I couldn’t sense her emotions over the phone. Normally, that inability frustrated me because I was so used to relying on my ability. But not today. Today, I’d never been more thankful for Alexander Graham Bell and his crazy invention.

  I traced a finger around the seam on Lucen’s blue sofa cushion, listening to Sweetpea scratch at his cage. “There’s a few more things.”

  “Well, I’m already sitting down and I have an open bottle of wine in the fridge, so you might as well go ahead.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry. Be honest.”

  Being sorry would be easier, but there was no way I could let her discover more about my freakish life by accident. I gathered my courage and spit out the words. “I’m kind of in a relationship, and the guy is kind of not human.”

  Before she could interject, I told her about Lucen, doing my best to explain how I got involved with him. It sounded as if she whimpered a couple times while I spoke, but when I finished, she held it together long enough to request a photo so she could determine for herself if Lucen was attractive. The lighthearted comment sounded a touch forced, but she was making an effort.

  That said, I refrained from mentioning Devon. One satyr in my life was plenty for her to accept. Two would be pushing my luck. The idea that monogamy simply wasn’t possible for them might break her. I wasn’t sure how well she was holding it together as it was.

  A clinking noise in the background made me guess she’d broken out the wine. “So the Gryphons turned you into an unusual type of satyr, you’ve been hiding your gift from me for a decade, working for the Gryphons, almost getting yourself killed, and you’re dating a satyr. Do I have everything straight?”

  “Pretty much. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but I didn’t want to worry you.”

  “I’m in a bit of shock, I admit, but I can handle more than you think. After all, half your genes come from me.”

  Okay, she might not be freaking out, but this calm guilt trip was worse. She knew I’d always identified more with my father. He’d been the Gryphon, and when my gift had started appearing, I’d latched on to him. Ever since I was young enough to understand, I’d wanted to follow in his footsteps.

  You may yet. He died in the line duty, and so could you.

  I made a mental note to finally sign the formal agreement with the Gryphons that Tom had given me last week. It would make me an official member of the organization, rather than the consultant I was currently labeled as. I’d been putting it off, not wanting to take the step. I wa
s still too bitter at the Gryphons for everything that had happened to me and unsure what signing would mean for my future. But the Gryphons took care of the families of those who died in their service. If there was anything left of the organization and my family in the future, I liked the idea that they would get compensated for my loss.

  The roar of a truck on the street outside jolted me from my morose thoughts. I needed to stop picking at the seam on the couch, or I was going to rub a hole through the fabric. “Mom, there’s no way I can forget where my genes come from. You stare back at me every time I look in a mirror. I just wanted to protect you. I was hurting, and I didn’t want you hurt too.”

  “I’m positive you meant well, sweetie, and I’m not mad at you. I promise. I’m not entirely horrified either. No matter what you can do, I will never question that you are a good person who has tried to do good.”

  I sat up abruptly, uncomfortably aware that my eyes were burning and my throat tight. “Thank you.”

  “I’m not sure how I feel about you being romantically involved with a satyr, although I suppose I can get used to many things. Eventually. Very eventually.”

  “He’ll grow on you. He has that effect on people.”

  “It’s his effect on people that disturbs me. Give me time, Jess. We need to talk in person soon.”

  Time. The one thing that we didn’t have much of. On that thought, I checked the clock. I had to get moving to Gryphon headquarters and fast.

  Guilt, and the genuine need to make sure my mother truly was dealing as well as she purported to be, kept me on the phone longer than I should. After hanging up, I hurriedly ran through my texts from Tom to make sure nothing had changed because of Xander. There was a whole lot of discussion about Xander going on, but nothing from Tom—nor Lucen, nor Dezzi—indicating a revision to our plans.