The Cursed Satyroi: Volume One Collection

by Rebekah Lewis

  Hermes, however, was not convinced his son did anything to warrant a punishment. “If a group of mortals stood around to watch two gods cursing each other, it serves them right that they were affected. Fools.” He bit his lip to hide his pleasure when Zeus’ smile faltered. Always these games between them. None of the other gods dared debate an issue with Zeus without fearing retribution. Hermes was too quick to be smited, so he’d tell Zeus every piece of his mind if he felt it necessary. “Where is Pan now?”

  Zeus closed his eyes and concentrated, searching the mortal plain. “Beside the Asopos. Kithairon. The woman he defiled, the nymph. She has died. He blames himself and mourns her.” Zeus sighed. “I suppose you should go to him, but hear me now, Hermes. He is not to be brought back into Olympus, not in the state he put himself in. If you know what is best for you, you will cease contact with him. This is his punishment. He didn’t want to be Olympian, and now he isn’t. He’s Satyroi.”

  “He is my son.”

  Zeus dipped his head, sadly. “And my grandson. It matters not in times like these.”

  “What if I don’t obey this order?”

  “He will be punished in...different ways. Go to him. Say your farewells.”

  Glaring at his father, Hermes turned his back on the King of Olympus and stormed out of the temple. Fluttering down the paths through the city, Hermes passed a multitude of gods and goddesses, all giving him looks out the corners of their eyes. Whispers built in volume until he heard bits and pieces of their chatter:

  “He brought upon her death.”

  “Nobody is fool enough to anger Dionysus; he’s not stable.”

  “Apollo settled that issue.”

  Why had Apollo stepped in? He’d only make things much worse. Hermes took flight, the wings on his ankles beating quickly with his haste. He shot through the gates of Olympus, exiting the realm of the immortals and cascaded down the path of the mountain. Cities and wilderness passed beneath him like dust caught in the breeze, and within moments he was beside his son on the bank of the Asopos.

  “Pan, I... Gods, what happened to you?” Hermes took several steps back in surprise as Pan faced him. He was nude, in the throes of lust, but doing nothing to relieve it. He had grown horns from upon his head which resembled the curled appendages of a ram, and his legs had been reshaped and covered in hair. His hooves were the most surprising, though Hermes had seen such before. The Minotaur of Crete came to mind.

  Except, Hermes wasn’t looking at a Minotaur. There were some similarities, but he remained mostly a man in form. Satyroi... His son was a Satyros. Satyr.

  “Go away!” Pan shouted and covered himself, wincing at the contact.

  “I do not wish to offend you,” Hermes said softly, “but you really need to take care of that.”

  Pan roared at him, and then thrashed into the cold waters of the river and dove in. “Do you think I haven’t tried! Nothing is working.”

  “Well. I can find a woman for you, if you wish.”

  “I do not need my father picking out my women for me. A woman got me into this mess.”

  “I heard what happened. Do you want to talk about it?” Hermes sat himself on the ground, frowning at the strange instrument beside him, hidden by the tall blades of grass. It seemed to be composed of water reeds, seven in all, bound together shortest to tallest. “What is this?”

  Splashing and cursing exploded from the river, and Pan exited the water to snatch the instrument away. “I call it the syrinx. I made it from the reeds that marked her body’s passing. It’s all that is left of her.”

  Hermes remained quiet and stared from the instrument to Pan and back. Objects made from beings of magic by those with power were often dangerous when in the wrong hands. Zeus was right in one regard: Pan did not know the limits of his magic. What he created could do fantastical things, but it could also bring destruction.

  “Why are you staring at me like that?” Pan asked.

  “Because I worry what these changes will bring to your future.”

  Pan scowled. “You don’t care about me. You won’t even tell me who my mother is.”

  Pain lacerated Hermes’ heart. Hybris had made him swear not to tell. It was nothing against Pan. “One day I will tell you, but not today. Tell me about Syrinx, the nymph?”

  “She was a human when we were together. Somehow, something I did changed her.”

  His eyebrows lifted. “You turned a woman into a nymph? Really?”

  Obviously it hadn’t been the right thing to say. “Why do you act like it is so surprising?”

  “Because no one has done such a thing before.”

  “So you’re saying I am even more of an abomination than before with the horns and hooves? Wonderful.”

  Hermes stood once more. He tried to approach his son, but Pan kept a distance between them. A shiver ran through the skin above his hip. The mark of the caduceus had settled there this week. It was a staff with two snakes entwined around it that gave Hermes his wings and was the symbol of his messenger status to Zeus. The shiver was letting him know Zeus was calling him back. His time was up.

  Hermes opened his mouth to say his goodbyes when Pan spoke first.

  “I wanted her. If I had been thinking clearly, I would have put it together who she was and why touching her was a bad idea. She’d been promised to Dionysus, but had chosen me.”

  He probably shouldn’t repeat his quip about her good taste in men, so he nodded instead. “I understand. Not every choice we make will be the right one, but we can only strive to do the best we can. She wanted you, and you wanted her. And that is why they call it temptation, my son. It’s everything we think we want, what we think we need, and the consequences fail to make themselves known until it is too late.”

  Pan nodded. “The consequences were a bit harsh, I think.”

  Hermes laughed, and Pan cracked a hint of a smile. But then the caduceus shivered again and he sobered.

  “I have to go. Zeus is calling me back to Olympus.”

  Pan’s scowl returned. “Leave then. I’m fine on my own. I need to go find the others and see how bad this curse is. If the lust is this excreting for me, it’s going to be worse on former mortals. I can’t let them leave the mountain and wander into the villages below.”

  Even the pride he felt in his son’s responsibility for the others couldn’t diminish the heartbreak of having to leave him now, when he needed Hermes the most. This punishment wasn’t so much for Pan, but for him. A reminder of who was in control, and who was merely the messenger.

  Message received.

  “Pan, I—”

  “Go!” Pan gritted out, turning his back.

  Hermes watched him leave, emotions gripping him hard. One day he’d be able to make it up to Pan. One day.

  Midnight at the Satyr Inn

  A Cursed Satyroi Short Story

  Dedication

  To book lovers, readers, writers, and dreamers.

  Without you, stories would be empty words in a world without light.

  Chapter One

  London rewound the DVR recording and then pressed play. How the hell had those guys pulled that one off? She paused the video and there, on the wall behind the host of the paranormal investigation show, was the shadow of a demon. Ram horns adorned his head and his legs tapered down to hoofed feet, the shadow went undetected by the film crew until they replayed their footage upon leaving the location, but it was pointed out for the viewers to notice on the show. London hit play again and watched in amusement as the shadow crept down the hall while the host shouted for the entities in the small local inn to “come at him.”

  The remainder of the episode contained the standard cheap thrills and weird Electronic Voice Phenomenon, EVPs, as they attempted to locate the source of the strange music guests often reported hearing at night, but the image of the demon shadow stayed with her.

  Breaking out her laptop, London ran an Internet search for The Aegean Inn. She’d passed it once or twice while was
ting time between classes and hadn’t realized it. London had lived in Savannah all her life and actually had a small apartment close to the area since she was a student at SCAD—Savannah College of Art and Design. But she had been on just about every ghost tour in town, and The Aegean Inn wasn’t featured on them, but after this television program that would change. How did something like that remain unnoticed for so long by locals?

  The website was elegant, showcasing the historical setting of the establishment, but also said the owners had named the inn after the Aegean Sea as a tribute to where they grew up. Searching beyond the website, London then discovered the building was once used to treat yellow fever during the epidemic in 1820—a trait many of the haunted locations downtown shared—and was rumored to sit on top of one of the tunnels built under the city. Nowhere was there mention of ghosts or goblins.

  Picking up her cell phone, she quickly dialed the number listed on the website. London didn’t usually act so impulsively, but something about discovering a new haunted spot in town excited her. She loved scary stuff, and she had a free weekend with nothing to do. Maybe she’d even luck out and finally have a paranormal encounter. She’d always wanted some kind of verification of ghosts or anything fantastical, even though she had no idea how she’d react to such a thing.

  After the fourth ring, a woman answered, “Hello, thank you for calling The Aegean Inn. How may I assist you today?”

  “I would like to make a reservation.”

  “Did you have a date in mind for your visit, ma’am?” The lady on the phone had a pleasant voice. London thought she didn’t sound at all like someone who willingly worked in a demonic hotspot.

  “Tonight through Sunday.”

  “I’m sorry, ma’am, but all the rooms are booked this weekend.”

  London figured that would be the case. “How unfortunate. I’ve only just discovered you guys were in town and really wanted to check it out.”

  “You might have better luck at one of the larger hotels. If you wanted a historical element, the Marshall House—”

  London blurted, “Are you sure there are no cancellations or anything? Could you call me if someone doesn’t check in? Please, I would be alone and have no preference on room size.” London realized how rude she sounded, “Sorry for cutting you off.”

  The woman was silent for several seconds. She gave a sigh of impatience, and with a curt, “Please hold,” the line clicked as the hold button was pressed.

  London watched the clock tick, tick, tick away on her living room wall while she waited. The woman came back onto the line and asked, “What is your contact information should a room become available last minute?”

  Oh my God, did that actually work? She listed off her info for the woman, grinning. It was a slim chance, but still a chance. For whatever the reason, she had a good feeling about it.

  ***

  Jacen knocked on the office door and entered when Vander acknowledged him. Orestes and Calix were already seated inside. Nothing like spontaneous meetings in the middle of the day. Vander gestured for Jacen to take a seat, so he did. They had been cursed the night he, Orestes, and Calix had accompanied Prince Evander, to “observe” Dionysus and his followers on Kithairon. Evander, the prince of Dia, had eventually dropped the first letter in his name, and though he was no longer the prince of a Greek island, he became known to them as the Satyr Prince. Not that a title meant much anymore. However, the rest of them had once been Vander’s royal guard, and having gone through the change together left them forever bonded.

  “What’s happened this time? Did Orestes get caught on film again?” Jacen asked, smirking when Orestes looked away and fidgeted. His shadow had been caught on video and broadcasted all over the world on a television show. The inn’s reservation list had gone out of control since the episode aired.

  “Don’t even joke, Jacen. If we draw too much attention, we’ll have to move on earlier than expected. We’ve been here eight years and remained under the radar until now.” Vander rubbed the bridge of his nose between his index finger and thumb. He’d recently cropped his hair to below his ears, and the reddish-brown strands looked as though he’d rolled out of bed before sitting at the desk.

  “Have you been sleeping with the receptionist again?” Jacen accused.

  Vander put his hand down. “That would be sexual harassment.”

  “Ha! Like all of us haven’t hit that.” Calix smirked. “Why else would we have ‘willing’ employees? It keeps us from molesting all the guests.”

  Whenever they hired human staff, they knew what their employers were. It was always a risk. Vander would use the magic Pan had given them to ensure the mortals believed their encounters with satyrs were merely dreams when it was time for a staff change. The downside? All their employees were women, and once they’d gotten a taste of satyr... Jacen worried they left the job ruined for human men whether they remembered what happened or not. Perhaps it was an arrogant assumption, but mortal men needed to rest at some point. Satyrs could keep it up all night without taking questionable medication. They were the perfect lovers, and that alone kept the human employees from outing them. That and they paid very well.

  “Look,” Vander protested, “I went downstairs to get away from the office a bit when Beatrice ambushed me.” They had their own rooms in the bottom floor of the building, located below the entry level. Only staff was allowed there, and Jacen kept trying to tell Vander if these women had access into their bedrooms whenever they wanted, they would end up busted for sleeping with the staff. They usually only had one human employee working at a time, which left the ground floor unsupervised, and someone would get nosy someday. Not to mention, technology in the modern age was terrifying. Orestes had sneaked upstairs to spy on the ghost hunting people and his shadow was captured on infrared camera. How long before Beatrice, or one of the others, planted a hidden camera in their room? They were currently considering their options of how to proceed.

  “Uh huh,” Jacen replied. “I bet you fought back really hard.”

  “So much for having my three loyal guardsmen around to save me from a brutal attack.”

  Calix snorted. “Puh-lease. You plowed her like she’s never been plowed before. I saw her ten minutes ago in the kitchen. She can’t even walk in a straight line.”

  “I didn’t bring you in here to discuss Beatrice when I know for a fact all three of you have been with her earlier in the week. At the same time.”

  “She told you?” Orestes actually looked shocked. Jacen and Calix shared a look.

  “Oh, yes. She told me.” Vander smirked when he’d regained the higher ground. “When she asked if she could have all four of us at once.” He studied his nails as he added, “After I finished with her today she said I, alone, was much better than the three of you combined.”

  “Such a lie!” Calix crossed his arms, actually looking put out. “Obviously, she didn’t want to make you cry by telling the truth.”

  “So,” Jacen attempted to return to the original subject. “Why are we here?”

  “Yes, of course. About two hours ago, Beatrice told me she took information down for a possible replacement reservation.”

  “Unattached female?” Orestes asked, sitting up straighter in his chair.

  Vander nodded. “I might have rescheduled a family and told them there was a plumbing issue in order to get the woman here tonight. You’re welcome.”

  Jacen glanced at the others. The majority of the guests they received were couples. They’d have the occasional group of friends, but the elusive single female did not reserve a room as often as they would like. The Aegean Inn was so obscure that not many locals knew it was there. And a single woman on her own was easier to seduce than one surrounded by friends. They long ago ceased feeling guilty for sleeping with paying guests. Whatever it took to keep their curse at bay.

  “Whose turn is it?” Orestes scratched his chin. His short dark hair and coloring was a stark contrast to Calix’s long fair hair and lig
hter skin beside him.

  “It’s Jacen’s turn this time,” Calix replied sourly.

  “Don’t pout, Callie. It’s unbecoming,” Jacen said.

  “Fuck off.”

  The four of them took turns playing the roles of concierge in case female guests turned out to be nymphs. Since nymphs had either totally died out or were still hiding themselves from the Satyroi, there was no way of finding the keys to breaking the curse—except waiting for one to reveal herself. Granted there were flaws to their system: a nymph had to reveal herself to them or she remained invisible to their perception. If they could see her before she sought them out and approached them, then she was not a nymph. If someone magically appeared who wasn’t there before, then she most likely was.

  So far, they have not encountered a single nymph since the night they were cursed.

  Savannah wasn’t the first place Jacen and the others had tried the hotel business before. They’d begun running a bed and breakfast type of establishment because, after night fell, the glamour which gave the satyrs human form would falter. They couldn’t go out and meet lovers as normal men could, and satyrs needed sex regularly. Vander hated preying on hotel guests, and Jacen shared the feeling. But they did what they had to in order to survive. To keep the public safe from them should they avoid dealing with their needs too long and become mindless with lust.

  Which is how they decided when single, unattached female guests arrived at The Aegean Inn, the four of them would take turns being the one to greet them and decide if they wanted to seduce them. That way there wouldn’t be a fight over a nymph if one did wander into the inn. They all were given a fair chance.

  “When does she arrive?” Jacen asked Vander.

  “She checks in at five.”

  He checked his watch; it was a quarter after four in the afternoon already. “Well then, I guess I better go look like I work here.”

  Chapter Two