by K. C. Cross
“Where’s the book?”
I point to it on a nearby counter. He picks it up, thumbs through it, then drops it back on the counter with a thud. “It says you have to eat them, not put them in an amulet. Did you even look up the proper way to make this thing?”
“I did!”
He’s shaking his head. “This isn’t going to be enough. An eros is nothing to mess with. They’re powerful. You already know that. He made you swoon.”
“Swoon?” I huff. “I wasn’t swooning.”
“I’m sure you thought it was all natural. But it wasn’t.”
“So what do you suggest? If I don’t show up tonight, he’ll come out there. We’ve already talked about this.”
He sighs and looks around. Then he walks over to the far wall, scans the jars, picks two, and comes back to the alchemy bench. “It’s not going to be enough, but you’ve made a mess of this situation, so this is a last resort. You need to let him down easy.” He points at me. “Don’t piss him off. And then you need to get back here.”
I nod. “OK. I can do that. What’s that stuff for?”
He opens the jars, take one stone out of each, then closes them back up and returns the jars to the same place he got them. “Do you see what I did here?” He’s throwing me a condescending look. “How I put them back where they belong?”
“I get it. I was messy today. But it’s my first day. Jeez. Give me a break.”
He walks back over to me, picks up the first stone and holds it up to the light. It’s black—I’m talking super black—and so shiny, I can see my face in it. “Obsidian,” he says. “It draws negative energy.” He puts it into my amulet pouch and picks up the next one. “This is amethyst. It will protect you from psychic attack. Because that’s what a love spell is.” He drops that into the pouch as well. Then he does something weird. He puts his lips to the opening of the pouch and blows into it.
“What are you doing? I thought you said you can’t do magic?”
“I said I don’t do magic. Because it’s boring. I have no interest in magic. That’s why I have you. But I never said I can’t do magic.” Then he closes his eyes and whispers something in such a low voice, the vibrations kinda make the room shudder a little. It’s that poem above the doors. A hoof, a horn… and the rest. He opens his eyes, pulls the leather drawstring on the pouch, and hands it to me. “Put it on and do not take it off.”
“What did you just do?” I ask.
“It’s the curse of Saint Mark’s Sanctuary. You belong to this place so…” He shrugs, then sighs. “I put a claim on you.”
My eyebrows go up. “A claim?”
“For the sanctuary. Not for me.”
I take the pouch and dangle it in the air. It’s a made from a very soft piece of lavender-colored leather. “Then why did you blow on it?”
“Because that’s the claim.”
I’m smirking. I can’t help it. “Your breath is the sanctuary’s claim?”
“Do you want me to forbid you from going?”
“No. I’m just—”
“Then mind your own business.”
I have to turn to hide my smile. “OK. Thank you.”
“It’s just…” He holds up a finger, like he’s about to make a list. “I have the door slamming.” Another finger pops up. “I have the freezing.” Another finger. “And I have breath.” Then he mumbles something that I can’t understand.
“What was that?”
“And a few other things. None of your business.”
I surrender with both hands up. “Fine with me. And thank you.”
He nods. Then he stares at me for a few moments. And I swear to God, this man—monster, whatever he is—he’s so… unsettling. His eyes are this yellow-orange color that remind me of flowing lava. And they have this draw to them. Like you don’t ever want to look away. You just want to stare back at him and get lost in those eyes. “What?” I ask. “Why are you staring at me like that?”
He changes the subject. “Did you look up satyr?”
“I did.”
“And now you understand?”
“I guess.”
His face is very expressive and sometimes he looks very human. Like, if he didn’t have those horns, and he wasn’t so tall, I’d just assume he was human because his lower half is almost entirely hidden by the alchemy bench.
“You guess?” he asks. “What part isn’t clear?”
“No. I get it. You were made… lewd, and promiscuous, and highly sexualized. It’s who you are.”
“It’s who I am.”
“So…” I let out a long exhale. “I’m sorry. I won’t ask you to wear pants again.”
And again, he just stares at me.
“Why are you looking at me that way?”
“I’m trying to calculate how big of a mistake you’re about to make. And if I should interfere and forbid you from going, or if I should just…” Now he sighs. “Let it go.”
“And?”
“I’m letting it go. But this is bad. And things are going to come of it. I can feel it. That eros is going to be trouble.”
“Maybe… maybe… I should just date him,” I say. Pell growls. “I mean, for like two weeks. Let it run its course, then we break up, he’s over me, we move on…” I shrug. “Telling him no might spark some kind of male competitive gene.”
I can tell that Pell the monster hates this idea. But I’m not sure if it’s because he doesn’t want me dating, or if he’s just truly concerned about me being around Russ Roth.
“I’m going to leave it up to you.”
Now it’s my turn to do the eyebrow raise. “You are?”
He nods. “Whatever you think is best. But here’s the catch. If he comes here, I will kill him. I will pull his arms and legs off and feed them to…” But he pauses here. “Never mind who.”
“Wait.” I put up a hand. “Hold on. Is there another monster here who eats people? Because if so, I think I need to know that.”
“There is not.”
“It was a euphemism?”
“Consider it that.”
“OK. Well, that wasn’t weird. But I get it. If I fuck this up, he dies.”
Pell points at me. “Exactly. And you? You will be punished. Because I don’t like killing things. And if you make me do it, I will make sure that debt goes on your account.” He taps the stone counter with his finger to illustrate how serious he is.
I swallow hard and nod. “Got it.”
“And it will cost you dearly. My services don’t come cheap.”
“I said I get it.”
“Good. Now state your plan back to me. Just so we’re clear.”
“I’m gonna have dinner with the sheriff. Be nice to him.” I point at Pell. “I will not give up any secrets and I will not be too nice. I definitely won’t send any of the wrong signals. I will steer him towards the friend zone, but if it feels like he’s interested in more, we will fake-date while I simultaneously do a total How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days on him.”
Pell says nothing.
“That means drive him away. It’s a cultural reference—”
“I know what it means. I’ve seen the movie.”
“You’ve watched How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days?”
He shrugs. “I’m a prisoner in a cursed sanctuary. Not a hermit.”
“O-kay. Got it. You’re hip and cool.” I put the amulet around my neck. “And of course, it’s all gonna be fine. Because now I’m under your breathy erection protection.” I snort a little.
He almost smiles.
Damn. Tough room.
“I will prepare for the inevitable dismembering.”
“That’s not gonna happen,” I counter. “I’ve got it covered.” I take off my apron, throw it on the counter, and scoot towards the door. “I better get going so I can get ready.” And then I dart out before he can say anything else or force me to look at his stupid dick.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN - PELL
I wait until she’s all
the way down the stairs, then start cleaning up the apothecary. I don’t use this stuff, but I like things in their place. There is no possible way I can walk out and leave it looking like this. The apothecary is essential for what we do here. Which is curse-breaking. She needs to be mindful of our goals. If she ever leaves this place a mess like this again, I’ll put it on her debt so she will think about her work flow.
Also, I need the distraction. This date is just pissing me off to no end.
Another eros. Living in the nearby town.
What are the chances of that?
And if there is one, there are more. An entire bloodline just miles down the road. How did I not know this? The only explanation is that they don’t know what they are. This bloodline is some deeply hidden family secret. Because if the sheriff is an eros, and he had any inclination of what Saint Mark’s was, then he would not have driven away with Pie. He would’ve come inside. He would’ve started a war.
One eros inside Saint Mark’s is a caretaker.
Two is an invasion as far as I’m concerned.
They would’ve started a war. Because Pie is eros blood too.
Isn’t she?
The eros belong to Saturn. Did belong to Saturn. Because Saturn is gone now. All the old gods are. And all their creations—all their monsters—were cursed.
Except for the fucking family of eros living down the road, apparently.
I’m not sure if this is a good thing or bad thing. On the one hand, the eros have broken their curse. That’s… hopeful. For me, at least. But if they no longer even remember that they were cursed, let alone the power of the gods that they possess, then this curse-breaking happened a long, long time ago.
What have they been doing all this time?
And more importantly, did Grant know?
Eros are seductive. They emit pheromones that affect you in certain ways. They make you swoon with longing. Sometimes that longing is sexual. Sometimes it’s a craving for a shared adventure. And sometimes it’s just an overpowering compulsion to be near them. Forever. They cannot be out of your sight.
And every single eros caretaker who came into my sanctuary affected me in one of these three ways. At least for a while. I’ve had my share of swooning moments over the years. It can’t be helped. But it’s more of a casual swoon than a deep desire. It takes a while to wear off, but eventually, it does wear off.
Obviously the eros don’t affect each other this way or they would be useless. Just a bunch of frolicking fools with no other ambition but to follow each other around.
So maybe Grant didn’t know about the sheriff?
This leads me down another rabbit hole. The main tunnel, if you will.
Because everything about this new Pie phase in the curse is different. And I’m not talking different than the last fifty years, I’m talking different than the last two thousand. Aside from the sudden disappearance of Grant and the untimely appearance of an entire family of eros living in the closest town, never once in the history of Saint Mark’s has a slave caretaker asked to get a job before.
Like… what the actual fuck is up with that?
And it’s not even like I can complain about it, because she’s trying to keep her debt down. Objecting just makes me look like a dick.
And none of them have ever dated before. At least, if they did, I didn’t know about it. They were here for me. To pleasure me. That was their curse.
This one, she just throws it in my face. I’m dating the sheriff.
And she’s the only one who ever showed up knowing no magic at all. All the other slave caretakers knew they were different. But Pie? No. She has a magic bird and she calls it her “personal hallucination”.
This actually makes me smile as I gather up all the spilled herbs and put them back in their place on the shelf.
She’s not boring, I will give her that.
And she has lit a fire inside Tomas.
Literally. Since he’s locked himself in the dungeon.
I really need to keep an eye on him. He’s always been dangerous, but dangerous in the way that we all are. I didn’t see much when I was down there today, but I don’t need to see things to understand that it’s not going well for Tomas at the moment.
And who knows? Maybe this is normal? I haven’t paid attention to the guy in a century, at least. Grant and I weren’t even on speaking terms when he made his escape so he wasn’t filling me in on Tomas’s current mental state. But I never noticed anything off about Tomas when I saw him around the grounds.
Hmm. I pause here. Because Grant was a talented alchemist. Was he helping Tomas all this time? And now that he’s gone, will Tomas struggle to maintain control? I want to say that is unlikely. Tomas liked Grant—Tomas likes everyone. But Grant didn’t like him. No one likes Tomas back. His relationships are all very one-sided.
For good reason.
I will need to talk to Pie about this and tell her to stay away from Tomas.
She’s not gonna take it well, and I don’t blame her. She makes two friends—two men—and I’ve suddenly got a problem with both of them. If I were her, I’d think I was a jealous jerk. She will never believe me. This has always been my problem with humans. They never want to take anyone’s word. They always have to see it for themselves. Always have to take the hard road. Always have to take the long way home.
And in the end, they have to admit that they should’ve listened.
Part of me wonders if maybe I should just butt out and leave the girl alone. What do I care if she gets involved with the local eros? It’s not like she can run off with him. Her curse will only allow her to stay gone for so long. Then she will be sucked back in. She is mine as long as she is cursed and she’s cursed as long as she wears the sanctuary ring.
And that ring will not come off her finger until someone of her bloodline shows up to take her place.
She didn’t say this earlier, but I know she’s holding out hope that the sheriff is her replacement.
His eros blood was enough to open the walking gate for an approaching Pie. That makes sense because Saturn is the one who turned the eros into his personal sanctuary keepers as Ostanes banished the gods. He sent them in here to get Ostanes’s book. But Pie was the one who saw the flyer. She was the one who released Grant.
The sheriff of Granite Springs has been living in the closest town his entire life—if he was meant to be caretaker, wouldn’t he have shown up at some point? Wouldn’t he have seen that flyer first?
This is my main issue with the sheriff.
I think back, trying to recall everything I know about how we all ended up here in Saint Mark’s Sanctuary.
It was a war, of course. It’s always a war.
The God War that took place two thousand years ago happened for two reasons.
One. The alchemist Ostanes was making chimera for the gods, Saturn and Juno. Monsters. Like me. Like Tarq. Like Tomas. You take the blood of a pure monster—like the wood nymph, or the minotaur, or the satyr—and you mix it up to create a chimera.
But something went wrong. Overbreeding? Bad crossings? I don’t know. I was a kid when that started happening. All I know is that with the exception of the eros, who had made an alliance with Saturn and were never used in the breeding program, all the pure monsters died out and only the chimera remained.
The second reason there needed to be a God War was because Juno and Saturn decided they were done with each other. And it was a messy breakup. As most breakups are. But when the two most powerful gods in all creation divorce, it takes on a whole other level of bad.
Ostanes worked for both of them. She could no more deny one request for more and more elaborate chimera breeding than she could the other. This is how the monsters got out of control.
This sanctuary was the last step in that war.
Ostanes had a very, very powerful spellbook. Both Saturn and Juno wanted this book so they could continue their monster breeding programs and be the most important god standing at the end of the sep
aration. So there were desperate attempts to steal it.
Maybe Ostanes was prideful? Maybe creating the sanctuary and hiding her spells in here was just ego? That’s entirely possible. If she didn’t enjoy her power, she would not have been powerful. This is how power works. Only those who covet power get power.
But it’s just as likely that the spells in that book simply do not belong in the hands of damaged gods.
At any rate, once the sanctuary was created Ostanes created tombs and locked all her chimera—except for me—inside them. She gave the book to the most formidable monster, Tarq.
Juno and Saturn responded with a fast and furious flurry of counterspells:
Saturn gave the eros the ability to enter the sanctuary as caretakers.
Juno countered by restricting the ability to enter the tombs to just one monster. Me, as it happens.
Saturn volleyed back and made the tomb doors invisible to me and only seen by the caretaker.
Juno returned fire and cursed the caretakers with the Book of Debt.
And… well, that’s where I lost track of the story because I was already inside Saint Mark’s.
Tomas was always here. I don’t really know much of his story at all. And I certainly have no clue how he fits into the curse.
Or myself, actually.
I’m not here to guard the spellbook—that task was given to Tarq. And I don’t have any useful powers. Slamming doors? Freezing people in place? A tiny breath of entitlement? It’s all very stupid.
Well. There is that other power. Which I’m going to assume is some kind of desperate last-resort power. Because if I use it, Saturn wins.
And maybe it’s not my place to choose who gets to be God, but as long as I have a say, it’s not going to be him.
So. I dunno. I think I’m just a leftover from a long-ago age. I hadn’t even been put to use before the God War. I was nothing more than a young chimera waiting for his purpose in the woods when this shitshow happened.
I am an unfinished project.
The only thing I’ve been focused on for the past two thousand years is how to get out of my curse.
