Uninvited (Etudes in C# Book 3)

by Jamie Wyman

  He pressed his lips into a thin white line. After opening his mouth and closing it again without speaking, Llyr took up his stick and began walking back toward his house. “Better put the tea on if we’re going to have company.”

  We were coming up the path, the little cottage peeking from the curtain of leaves around it when Llyr stopped me again, this time with a gentle touch on the wrist. “For as much as my son keeps close to the chest, it is very clear how he cares for you.”

  I snorted. “Marius? No, he… No. We’re just—”

  “Cat, I’m an old goat, but I see many things. That boy of mine adores you.”

  Sadness tugged at my heart as I remembered the secret to lifting Marius’s curse. The secret was love. If he felt that for me, he wouldn’t be cursed. And if he was still cursed… Well, I had proof that Llyr was wrong.

  “We’re friends,” I admitted sadly. “It’s odd, but that’s what it is.”

  Chuckling to himself, he brought a finger to his lips and kissed the tip before stroking Marius’s braid twined in my hair. “Friends?”

  Fixing his pointed blue stare on me, he gave the slightest shake of his head. Without another word, Llyr turned on his heel and strolled up to the house.

  Chapter Twelve

  “War Pigs”

  When I walked into the cottage, the walls were shaking with the sound of bagpipes and cacophonous drums. Somewhere deep in the house Flogging Molly kicked out of a pair of speakers. Either that or the band had been invited over for a private concert. Turning a corner into the living room, I was slightly disappointed to find that the music was coming from an overamped MP3 player. Malcolm’s one-man mosh pit slammed out a rhythm on his chest as he belted out an off-key chorus.

  Normally, a single bar of Flogging Molly is enough to send my blood into a frenzy and get my ass dancing. Just then, though, my body was weary. I glanced at my phone to check the time. Sure enough, it was well past last call and this little girl should’ve been sound asleep—infusion of power or no. Just thinking of my bed made me ache for a soft pillow. Then I remembered that my pillow was across an ocean and covered in satyr blood.

  I bumped into Marius. I hadn’t even seen him walk up to me.

  “Did you get any sleep?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “Wasn’t tired until now.”

  He put an arm around me, steadying me. I gladly let him bear some of my weight. “Malcolm!” he called over the music. “Turn it down.”

  “If it’s too loud, you’re too old, mate.”

  Llyr took the room in a handful of powerful strides. With a jab on the MP3 dock, he cut off the music. “Show some respect, son. A lady deserves that and more.”

  Chastised, Mal gave a sheepish look to his father. “Aye.”

  “Now, boys, we have things to discuss.”

  I cowered a little under the weight of Llyr’s parental authority. Impressive, given he wasn’t even my dad. But I also had an inkling that he was going to get down to brass tacks about the danger Marius was in, maybe plan a course of action. And then hopefully we’d find out why Llyr had gone to the trouble to fetch his wayward son.

  “Cat,” he said on a long breath, “would you do me the courtesy of staying awake a bit longer? I may need your insight.”

  I nodded, my head heavier than it should be. Llyr motioned for me to sit on the couch, and I gladly obliged. Marius sat beside me, his arms stretched wide over the back of the sofa. Malcolm took a seat in the rocker by the window, his hands still beating out a tight jig on his knees in time with the creaking of the chair’s motion.

  Pacing, Llyr cleared his throat. “Marius, it’s not that I’m unhappy to see you, but you’ve never been one to drop in. Why are you here?”

  Marius glanced at me, then let his eyes settle on his brother. “Other than the fact that you asked? Because Malcolm lost his pipes and needed a lift back.”

  “Oi!” Mal called from his rocker. “I didn’t lose them. I mislaid them.”

  “And that makes how many sets that you’ve mislaid exactly?”

  On either side of me the war of words began, each of them goading the other with increasingly loud voices. I drew my knees up under my chin and let my head fall forward.

  “That’s not the point, now is it? You shouldn’t go ’round spreading tales, Marius!”

  “Boys!” Llyr called. I looked up. Once again, all mirth had drained from Llyr’s face. He was serious as a coiled rattlesnake. “Pipes are not the point right now. Mal, you’ll make another set if the elders see fit to let you into the grove.” He gave a dismissive wave of his hand, then eyed Marius. “Tell me what is happening, son.”

  I swayed again. I was so weary. The warm weight of Marius’s arm fell over my shoulders. With his fingers, he used the slightest pressure to coax me into letting my head rest in the crook of his arm.

  “It’s nothing, Father. Don’t worry yourself over me.”

  Llyr’s smile was amused but sad. “Too late for that, Marius. What trouble follows you?”

  Listening to the rhythm of Marius’s breathing, of his heartbeat quickening, my eyelids fluttered closed.

  Marius’s voice became cool and defensive. He squirmed. “Mal said you wanted to see me. Poor timing on his part, but the message was received. I’m here.”

  “And is that such a bad thing?” Mal protested. “Taking a few minutes of your time to visit the man who raised you? Or are you too good for us?”

  “Did you lie to me, Mal?” Marius said through his teeth. The muscles of his chest tensed beneath my cheek, and his hand clenched over my shoulder. “You said Father needed me to come home. Did you lie?”

  “After a fashion,” Llyr said.

  I opened my eyes, a cold weight having just taken residence in my stomach.

  “Of course I haven’t.” Mal swore rather loudly while Marius simmered quietly beside me.

  Llyr drew a breath. “Malcolm, I never sent you to collect your brother.”

  The temperature in the room dropped about thirty degrees. Marius’s shiver rippled through me, and I looked to Malcolm.

  Stock-still, jaw hanging to his lap, Mal stopped rocking in the chair and gaped at Llyr. “What are you talkin’ ’bout?” Mal asked. “Of course you did!”

  Llyr shook his head. “No, son. No, I didn’t.”

  “You did! You sent me a text while I was down at the pub. Said to go fetch him.”

  “A text?” I asked. Llyr—the man listening to World War II–era French music on an antique phonograph and living for centuries in the pastoral English countryside—didn’t quite strike me as a texting sort.

  He confirmed my suspicion by asking, “How many times have you known me to text you?”

  “I thought it was important…” Mal said, sad confusion dragging his voice down.

  I gave Marius an intent look. “If they know about your dad and your brother and went to the trouble to manipulate texts, they’re going to know we’re here.”

  Marius and his father shared a terrible, pregnant look.

  “Bugger,” Marius hissed.

  He was off the sofa in one swift movement and then stalking down the hallway.

  Malcolm shot off the rocker. “What d’ you mean? You told me to go get Marius. That you needed to tell us both something important. That it was a family matter and it might be the last time you’d get both of us together!”

  Llyr dragged his hands down his face in a perfect impression of Marius and took Mal by the shoulders. “Son, I know you didn’t mean to do it, but you’ve fucked up. There are people after your brother. People with powers of deceit and guile. Someone pulled one over on you, and you led Marius straight to them.”

  “I don’t…” Mal’s face fell, clearly still confused. “What have I done?”

  The floorboards groaned as Marius returned to the room. “Cheer up. We’ve never held it against you before when you’ve completely bollocksed something up.” Marius took my wrist and hauled me up off the couch. “Come on, Catherine. W
e’ve got to be off before the trap springs.”

  Someone knocked on the door.

  “I’m afraid it already has,” Llyr said.

  “Will someone please tell me what the bloody hell is going on?” Mal whined.

  Ignoring him, Marius and Llyr sprang into action. Marius darted into the kitchen, the blade of his sword glinting in the summer sunlight.

  Llyr took my hands in his. “Cat, I think it might be best if you weren’t here.”

  I shook my head. “Can I borrow that MP3 player?”

  His eyes narrowed. “I don’t think this is the time!”

  “Please? Just trust me.”

  Confusion marked his face. Finally, though, he said, “Of course.”

  With a few uneven steps I stood at the mantelpiece and plucked the player from its dock. A flick of my will and the power in the player began to flow into me. I may as well have popped the top off an energy drink. Though my eyes still felt scratchy and raw, the leaden feeling in my limbs slid away and the fog in my mind cleared. I wasn’t about to run a marathon, but I could handle what was on the other side of the door.

  Probably.

  “You,” Marius said from the living room doorway. “In the back of the house.”

  I tossed the MP3 player to Mal and smoothed my hair. “Nope. What are we looking at?”

  “Catherine, depending on who’s out there, I might be able to talk this out, but if it turns ugly, I can’t guarantee your safety.”

  I gave Marius the cocksure grin I’d seen him wear a thousand times. “Like that’s something new? Let’s take care of you and your dad. Get this place back off the map, okay?”

  “What about me?” Mal protested. “Why’s she the one who gets to hide?”

  “Because she’s the one that’s mortal,” Llyr snapped. “Malcolm, make yourself useful. Go into my room and fetch me the leather bag from the hook.”

  “But—”

  “Now, boy!”

  Malcolm stomped past and did as his father bade him. The visitor knocked a second time but no more insistently than the first. Marius grimaced and took to the foyer.

  “Dad, I’ve got it.” Malcolm burst back into the room, a satchel of supple leather dangling from his fist.

  Llyr held my eyes to his for a second. He gave a quick nod, then turned away. Taking the bag from Mal, he looped it across his chest, and with his left hand, he withdrew a crude blade made of flat stone.

  Seeing the old man readying for battle galvanized me into motion. I met up with Marius in front of the door. Tendrils of acrid yellow smoke wafted from outside. A familiar tang of brimstone and bile stroked my nostrils and made me gag.

  The visitor knocked again.

  “Who is it?” Marius sang.

  “He that would have words with you.” Though his voice was muffled by the thick wood of the door, the stranger’s voice was both melodic and gruff, a lulling bass marked by precise yet slow syllables.

  Though Marius’s grip flexed over the hilt of his sword, he feigned gaiety. “Any words in particular, or shall we just blather on about nothing?”

  “You seek to yoke yourself with a new master. I require your vast knowledge. Perhaps,” the visitor hissed, “we might be of use to each other. Will you parley with me?”

  I chanced a glance at Marius. He raised an eyebrow in a question, and I shrugged.

  Moistening his lips, Marius called, “A lot of people would say such a thing only to have my head when I open this door. How am I to trust you?”

  A snort of laughter and the mist dispersed. “You should not. But be assured, I am no bad wolf, thief. Let me in and I shall ease your mind.”

  “You could ease my mind by giving your name.”

  “My name is worthless.”

  “Not very reassuring, that,” Marius mused.

  The stranger grumbled. “You misunderstand. I am the ruler of this world, the Angel of Hostility and Destruction.”

  Marius’s face fell, true fear glazing his eyes.

  “I am he,” our visitor continued, “that came last. He that spawned the darkness. My name is Worthless. Beli-ya’al. And I bid you grant me entrance, satyr.”

  Beli-ya’al? I reached out for Marius and raised my hands in the universal sign for What the fuck does that mean?

  My satyr’s skin had gone ashen and pale. His jaw hung slack. Mortified, he whispered, “Belial.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Take It All Away”

  In the second after those syllables were spoken, the world plunged into another ice age. My heart stopped, blood frozen in my veins. If I listened closely I could hear my stomach squelching onto the floor.

  Belial. One of the princes of Hell.

  Not long ago I ran into a crew of mages that had a collective hard-on for Satan’s right-hand man. By the end of that little fracas, I’d swiped the relic they were trying to collect, thus thwarting their plan to capture the Almighty Himself. Oh, and I’d lured Belial’s pet doggy to his eventual murder at the hands of my employer, Loki.

  And now he stood inches away from me, belching sulfuric smoke, listing his credentials, and offering my satyr a job.

  Oh shit.

  Llyr’s steps echoed like war drums in the hall. Eyes wide with shock and terror, I shook my head.

  “My door opens for no one from the Abyss,” he said, voice strong and confident.

  “Ah,” Belial purred, “the elder.” Something scratched along the other side of the door. I imagined a crooked, gleaming claw stroking the wood, seeking a weak point. “Is the other son there? I must thank him for taking my missive so seriously and bringing his brother here.”

  “That was your doing?” Marius asked, his tone still jovial. “You needn’t have gone to such measures if you wanted to speak with me.”

  Belial ignored his words. “And just who else is cowering there beside you?”

  My guts turned to water. Could Belial see through the door? I wasn’t sure, but at that moment, I felt like a hobbit caught in Sauron’s gaze. Closing my eyes, I gulped down a bilious lump of abject fear.

  “There are prices on your head and wagers for your soul, satyr,” Belial rumbled. “Align yourself with me and I will pay those debts.”

  “With what currency exactly?” Marius asked.

  I shot an incredulous look his way. He couldn’t possibly be entertaining the idea.

  “Nothing with which to concern yourself. You would live with all the protections and extravagances a prince can provide. In exchange, I ask you to share with me what you know of my enemies.”

  “Any particular enemies? It would be a pity for us to strike a deal only for me to discover that I’ve traveled in the wrong circles.”

  “Your knowledge is vast. Some of those I seek are quite close to you.”

  Another scrape of claws on wood. This time immediately above my shoulder.

  Shitshitshitshitshit.

  I clamped my eyes shut and swallowed hard, trying to make myself small, my breathing shallow. My knees shook and my heart jackhammered in my chest.

  Belial’s voice filled the air. “This is my bargain, satyr. What say you?”

  “Could I telecommute or must I move to the Abyss? I don’t do well with dank pits and firestorms, you see.”

  A low growl like thunder served as a warning. “You are well-known for your insolent tongue, but beware, Marius, for you try what little patience I was born with.”

  “Just trying to get a feel for the working conditions, Your Highness.”

  “Be gone,” Llyr spat. “You are not welcome in my home, and I’ll not have you threatening my guests.”

  “Guests?” Belial asked, his sibilants exaggerated. “Why, who else could be there but the fugitive and his sluggard sibling?” There came a pecking on the door. Again, I imagined a talon, razor-sharp and ready to gut me. “Could I be so lucky as to have found both of you?”

  “Leave!” Llyr shouted. “None here will have your business.”

  Belial ignored h
im. When he spoke, the prince’s voice was lustful, hungry. “The thief and his woman? The mortal that makes play with gods and dabbles in meager parlor tricks. Are you there, mageling?”

  I didn’t trust my voice not to come out a quivery bleat, so I tightened my jaw and flashed a look to Marius. Unbidden, the memory came. An image of my satyr racing toward me with that same saber drawn. Running past me, grabbing what he thought was a holy relic, and sprinting away. The sight of his back fading into the murk of an abandoned foundry. Would he do it again? Here and now? Would Marius take this deal with a devil to save his hide, to hell with me? And Llyr. And Malcolm.

  Marius lifted a finger to his lips, then gave me a cocksure smile. He didn’t realize I could see the beads of sweat forming like pearls around his hairline. Usually so quick on his feet and ready to slither free, he was afraid.

  “Her fear,” Belial purred. The yellow smoke flowed out of the house as the prince inhaled deeply. “Its bouquet is exquisite. I cannot wait to feast on her.”

  “Your Highness,” Marius said, his voice tight, “there will be no feasting, I’m afraid.”

  “You seem to think that the matter is up for discussion.”

  “Not with me, perhaps, but I’m certain you know her master.”

  “Too well. I fear neither his impotent wrath nor his simple conjuring. No, if I desire it, I will have my vengeance and spend centuries devouring her flesh.”

  “Oi!” Malcolm called as he entered the hall carrying a shotgun, its barrel aimed at the floor. “If anyone’ll be devouring Cat for centuries, it’s me.”

  Before anyone could stop him, Mal raised his arms. After a teeth-shattering bang and a muzzle flash, my ears popped as the round zoomed by and splintered the wood. In a blink, I found myself on the floor beneath Marius and Llyr, the two of them shielding me with their bodies. My ears were ringing, and when Llyr’s mouth moved, I couldn’t hear him.

  Marius was off me and making a beeline for his brother. Mal held the shotgun across his chest and pumped the action. The two of them argued like characters in a silent film. Marius punched his brother in the shoulder. As the gun fell to the floor, I winced. Mal’s arm went limp, his face twisted with pain, and I thought I saw his mouth form the word recoil. Llyr patted down my arms, tilted my head this way and that as he inspected me for wounds.