Damaged Gods (Monsters of Saint Mark's #1)

by K. C. Cross

  “Am I going to get punished with some kind of debt because he’s not eating tonight? I don’t understand how his wellbeing is my concern.”

  “You don’t get punished. He’s allowed to make his own decisions.”

  “Must be nice,” I mumble.

  “I will talk to him about the job, though. I promise. I bet he gives in. He doesn’t like being here either. But he’s been stuck in this curse for so long now, he has no clue what it would even be like to walk the earth as a free man anymore.”

  “He was human once?”

  “Human? Who said anything about human?”

  “You said ‘a free man.’ So I just assumed…”

  Tomas shakes his head. “No. Well, yes. He’s a man, for sure. We can all see his package dangling all over the place.” I chuckle. Can’t help it. “But no. He was made this way.”

  “How long have you been here, Tomas? And why are you cursed?”

  “I don’t even remember a life before here.”

  “What?”

  Tomas lets out a long, tired sigh. “Yeah. I don’t remember. I’ve just… always been here, I think. Well, not here specifically. We were in the Old World for thousands of years before they relocated the sanctuary to Pennsylvania in the late sixteen hundreds.”

  “Were you a priest? Or some kind of monk?”

  He considers this for a moment, wearing a look of ‘doubtful,’ but says, “Maybe.”

  “Hmm. And you’re not interested in finding out more of your story?”

  “Where would I look?”

  “There are so many books in that room. Maybe in there?”

  “That’s the apothecary. Those are spells, and potions, and dire warnings.”

  I try to laugh off the ‘dire warnings’ part, but I’m not sure I entirely succeed. So I just change the subject. “Doesn’t this place have a library?”

  “Somewhere, I’m sure. Up in those moving hallways.”

  “They move?”

  “You could literally get lost here at Saint Mark’s.”

  “Like, never find your way back lost?”

  “Back where? You won’t leave, not really. But those rooms up there, they’re… how do I explain this? They’re like memories.”

  “I don’t get it. Memories?”

  “Yeah. Like… days gone by. Somewhere up there are rooms that contain everything that’s happened over the many thousands of years it’s existed. This place is always growing. You’ll see. Eventually there will be a room up there for this day. I don’t know what the lag time is, so don’t go looking for it or anything. But one day, this will be history.” Tomas pans his hands wide at my new tiny cottage and then sighs. Like he’s tired.

  “Well, that’s kind of amazing. So if you wanted to figure out your past, you could theoretically find the room from your first day here, and what? Go relive it?”

  He shrugs. “Maybe. I don’t know. Never tried.”

  “We should try, Tomas. I’ll help you. This memory stuff might be the best thing about this place.”

  He doesn’t agree or disagree, so I know he’s not really interested. This is my cue to drop it and change the subject. The meal is over now and he’ll be leaving. Then it will just be me in here and I’m not used to that. I’m used to always having my friend on my shoulder. I miss Pia terribly. And I want her here with me so bad, it makes my heart hurt.

  I need to figure out what’s happened to her. But until then, I’ll have to settle for Tomas’s company.

  And as soon as I think that thought, he stands up and wipes his mouth with his napkin. A clear signal he’s ready to leave.

  “You know what would help?” Tomas says.

  “With what?”

  “Making Pell agree to the job in Granite Springs.”

  “Should I even ask?”

  Tomas grins. “Hey, I’m not saying he’s not an asshole. He is. But I was serious about the debt payoffs. He’s not gonna make you do anything you don’t agree to. He gives no fucks if you have debt, Pie.”

  “That’s not helpful. What were you gonna say?”

  “Come up with a spell.”

  I crinkle my face up at this. “I’m not a witch.”

  “You don’t need to be a witch. It’s not magic. Not really. It’s just the laws of the universe, Pie. Learn to live within them. Learn how to ask for favors. That’s all magic is. And you can do that. Hell, maybe even I could do that. And anyway, Grant left a shitload of spells, and potions, and instructions in that apothecary. Just like all the caretakers before him. There are literally thousands of years of knowledge in that room. Use it. Come up with a spell, or a potion, or a glamour that will make Pell happy. That will tell him that you’re on his side and you will work hard to break his curse. That’s all he wants. Just give him what he wants and he’ll do the same for you.”

  “I hope he appreciates you. Because you’re a good friend, Tomas.”

  He smiles at me. “Thanks.” Then he looks over his shoulder. “I’m gonna go back to the cathedral.”

  “Wait, where do you stay up there? How do I find you if you’re not around?”

  “I’ll find you.” He winks at me. “Don’t worry about that.”

  The next morning, I wake early. Or, I should say, I get up early. I’m not sure I actually slept. The first night here everything was overwhelming. I was exhausted and confused and sleep was necessary. But last night all this new stuff was swirling around in my head like a freaking whirlwind.

  It’s not even light out yet when I leave the cottage. I don’t know what time breakfast is served and Tomas didn’t show up to direct me—obviously, Pell didn’t either. So I decide I’m going up to the cathedral to check out the apothecary myself.

  Tomas’s suggestion makes a lot of sense. Everything in this world runs on give and take so if I want Pell to be reasonable and give me something I want, I need to do that in return.

  And how hard could it be, really? To mix up a potion? I mean, if there really are thousands of years of spells, and potions, then that’s like having a recipe book. I’m not a great cook, but I can follow direction and that’s mostly what cooking is. I might not be a master chef but I can scramble eggs.

  Is spellcasting much different?

  If I can find something to make Pell’s life easier, he will be happy. Hell, this might even strike some debt off my page in the book.

  I have nothing to lose and everything to gain by trying.

  I hurry up the hill in the approaching dawn and do my best not to look at the tombs on either side of the path. But it’s pretty hard not to notice those gaping black doorways. And inside some of them, I see movement. Like there really are monsters inside. I shudder and walk faster until I’m over the hill and the cathedral is looming before me.

  I pause briefly in the lower great hall and look up the staircases on either side of the main one. I wonder what’s lurking up there. Ghosts? Other monsters? Or just bits and pieces of time tucked away in rooms?

  That poem above the doors comes back to me. Not the part about the horns and the hooves, but the part about time. A tick of time, a last mistake. Keep them safe behind the gate.

  But I don’t really know what it means. The gate—that’s probably the gate out front. Or the gate in back. Or hell, who knows? Maybe there are dozens of gates to this place?

  Again, I shudder, then go up the central staircase and enter the apothecary room and let out a long breath. There’s a lot to unpack in here. And then I remember that it’s all written in Latin, so I just slump down onto the couch and think.

  How does this Latin thing work?

  There’s something there that I’m missing. Because Pell thinks we’re all speaking Latin when we’re not. Is it possible that there is a spell that allows him to understand foreign languages?

  It makes sense to me. And it’s a starting point. So I get up and start looking at the spines of the books for clues. There are too many for this plan to be practical, but the book Pell was showing me yesterd
ay is still open on the stone counter, so I start there. These are Grant’s notes. Pell and Tomas make him out to be, if not brilliant, at the very least competent, in the realm of spellworking.

  I take it back over to the couch, sit down, and start paging through the book. I’m well into the middle of the thing before I find one I can read.

  And boom. It’s exactly what I was looking for.

  Pia’s words inside the cottage come back to me in this moment. This is weird.

  She was right back then and it still holds true now. Because this spell is called How to Read the Books in the Apothecary.

  I page ahead, looking for more spells I can understand, but the rest of the book is all in other languages, most of them not anything I recognize as letters—unusual symbols, and dots, and lines. Some of it even looks like music notes. But not exactly music notes.

  And every single page in every other book I take off the shelves is written in another language.

  One spell. That’s what I have to work with.

  Good thing it’s exactly the spell I need.

  I find an apron, tie my hair back, crack my knuckles, and get started.

  Magic, here I come.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN - PELL

  I don’t go to dinner and I don’t show up for breakfast. So it’s nearly lunchtime when I stroll out of my tomb and start making my way up the hill towards the cathedral.

  I’m just… what is the best word for how I’m feeling?

  Bitter? Angry? Jealous?

  I’m gonna go with bitter. Because I am not jealous. That town sheriff is no one. Not a threat. Not in the least. And besides, the girl is mine. I have a hold of her entire life. The sheriff hasn’t got a chance and neither does Tomas. Pie might like Tomas better than me, but he’s unavailable. And eventually, Tomas won’t be able to hide what he really is and she will see I truly am the only one in her life who matters.

  So definitely not jealous.

  And not angry, either. Nope. Anger is reserved for situations I cannot control. We are definitely not in anger territory yet, so I’m going to go with bitter.

  I enter the lower great hall and start walking up the stairs, taking my time because this realm is mine. I rule this place. I am the fucking king.

  And yet… they left me in the steam cave like I was no one. Like I didn’t matter. Like it was them against me.

  All right. Maybe I’m a little angry.

  I blow it off.

  And then, up in the ceiling, the little bird flutters and flaps. I pause on the stairs, looking up. What did she call that thing? “Pia,” I say out loud. Like Pie, with an a.

  I whistle to it.

  It whistles back, mimicking me.

  Hmm. I whistle again, and it reciprocates.

  “Well”—I sigh, looking up at it—“I don’t know what to make of you, little bird. But you’re not my problem.” So I continue up the steps and when I get to the top, I’m fully intending on making my way to the kitchen to fix my own damn meal when I catch the scent of something burning in the apothecary.

  “Now what?” I stomp over there, throw the door open, and—“Holy fuck. What the hell is all this?”

  I look around for Pie—because clearly this is her doing—and then spot her feet peeking out from behind a stone counter. “Shit.” I rush over, bend down, and cradle her head in my arm. “Pie?” I growl in her ear. “Can you hear me?”

  She moans, then she’s slapping at me as she tries to sit up. “Stop it! Get away. Let me go.”

  I back off and stand up. “What the hell are you doing on the floor? And what’s that awful smell?”

  She breathes deeply and blinks several times before looking up at me. “Pell! Pants! How many times do I have to tell you to put on some fucking pants?”

  “Satyr chimera don’t wear pants. I’m never going to wear pants again. Get over it. And you didn’t answer my question. What in the name of the gods are you doing in here?”

  “I’m making potions so I can read the books.” She struggles to get to her feet, shielding her eyes from my lower body, and while I have an overwhelming urge to help her, I refrain because clearly she doesn’t want or need it.

  Besides, I wouldn’t want to scar her fragile sensibilities with my enormous package. So I turn away and scan the room. “Tomas! Where the hell is Tomas?”

  “He hasn’t shown up yet and I don’t know where to find him.”

  When I turn back, she’s wiping her hands on her apron. “Why were you on the floor?”

  She haphazardly paws at her hair. It’s a mess and kinda hanging in her face. “I think I passed out after I tried the last potion.”

  “You what? Wait. You’re trying the potions…” I sigh and let the words trail off. “How stupid are you?”

  “Shut up. And go away if you’re just gonna be a dick. I’m busy here.” She picks up a beaker, eyes the level of purple liquid inside, adds a pinch of something, pours it into a test tube, and then starts to put it up to her lips, like she’s going to drink that shit.

  I swat at her hand and the test tube goes flying across the room, shattering on the stone wall.

  Pie looks at the wall, then the smashed bits of her potion, then directs her glare to me. “What the hell is your problem? Do you have any idea how long it took me to brew that?”

  I almost have no words for this girl. “My problem? You’re the dumbass drinking random potions!”

  “They’re not random. They came right out of Grant’s book.” She taps his notebook to make her point. “And I’m close. I can read the Greek and Babylonian books. Latin can’t be far behind.”

  “Nothing you just said made a bit of sense.”

  “I’m cooking up a spell so I can read Latin.”

  I look down at the book, read the spell she’s pointing to, and laugh.

  “Laugh all you want, monster. I’m practically there. I’m trying to conjure up a spell that will make you happy so when I ask you for permission to get a job in town so I won’t go into debt, you will say yes. But you seem to be dead set on blowing up my world at every turn. I spent all morning coming up with that potion to read the books and you just destroyed most of it! Every time I start to figure something out, you’re there to kill my buzz!”

  “First,” I say, holding up a clawed finger, “thank you for thinking of me.”

  She inhales though her nose and forces out, “You’re welcome.”

  “Second”—I raise another clawed finger—“you will not be getting a job. That’s out of the question.”

  “Why not?” She’s working herself up now. “That’s totally not fair! You want me in debt to you so when I finally do leave here, I’ll have lost my youth!”

  “Third”—I add to the list—“I’m not blowing up your world, Pie. You’re fighting it. And the harder you fight, the worse it will get. Just… accept it. You’re here. Possibly forever.”

  “No. No!” She screams it. “I’m going to break that curse. You’ll see. This magic? It’s not magic. It’s a fucking recipe. All I have to do is follow the recipes and it’s all gonna work out. And it’s not going to take forever. A few weeks, that’s it. And I need to work off my debt so that when I leave here, I’m not some over-the-hill thirty-year old! And the only way to do that is to get a job so I can pay for the stuff we need with real money instead of magic money! And if you were any kind of compassionate human being, you’d understand this and want the best for me because what’s best for me is best for you!”

  I am actually a little bit touched at this. “You want a job to support us?”

  “Exactly!”

  I sigh. “It’s not gonna take weeks, Pie. It’s going to take decades.”

  “No.” She shakes her head furiously. “No. I refuse to allow that to happen. I’m smart. Your boy, Grant, he was smart too. And he took excellent notes. I think he was hiding things from you.”

  I frown. “What things?”

  “I think he had the answer. I found these books written in Babyloni
an and Greek. And they are all about how to break your curse.” She pauses. “I think he was writing things down in weird languages so he could hide things from you.”

  I get up and walk over to the stone counter. “Let me see that.” And sure as shit, that little fucker was hiding things from me. “What’s it say?”

  “Oh, you can’t read it?” She’s mocking me. “I thought you were the king here. The ruler, the—”

  “What does it say?”

  Her whole face brightens. In fact, she smiles at me. And it’s a nice smile too. “Do you want the potion?”

  “What potion?”

  “The one I just invented to understand Babylonian, and Greek?” She nods her head at me. “It worked.”

  I look at her alchemy bench. It’s a fucking mess of test tubes, and beakers, and open flames. There’s jars and jars of herbs, and crystals, and powders. Some of this shit is glowing. Which I’m not sure about because from my experience, glowing potions are very powerful. And she’s on day one of her self-paced Let’s Do Magic course, so that’s probably not a good thing.

  “I dunno.”

  “Is the great big bull-god scared?”

  “Yeah. You have no idea what you’re doing.”

  “And yet I understand Babylonian, and Greek. And you can’t even read this book.” She taps the book to illustrate her point.

  “Fine. Which of these many, many disgusting concoctions is it?”

  “This one.” She picks up a test tube of glowing purple goop and thrusts it at me. “Drink it.”

  “If this kills me—”

  “If this kills you, you should thank me. Since you’re immortal. That means your curse would be broken.”

  Well. She’s got a point there. I put the test tube up to my lips, almost pass out from the horrible smell, then down it in one gulp. It hits my stomach with a burn.

  “The burn passes,” Pie says hurriedly. And she puts her hand on my arm, either faking compassion or really meaning it.

  Her touch is warm too. And something about it does make me feel better. Soon, the burn is gone and in its place is a tingling feeling in my hands. Then a buzzing in my head.