Misery Happens (15 page)

Pausing by a large, unidentifiable tree, I placed my hands on my waist. The cord materialized around me as fine, golden threads. Good enough. I stared harder at the threads, picturing them as magical conductors. Power in. Power out.

I searched for my own power and pulled on the outgoing threads. Nothing happened. I was fighting myself. Some part of me—no question which part—didn’t want to end this. I wanted Claudius to catch up to me, push me against this tree and shove himself inside me until I screamed with ecstasy. Then I wanted him to pin me down and take more of what my rational self refused to give him. I’d hate myself later but would love every second of it while it happened.

Stupid fucking hormones. I willed the thoughts away. I was not going to be controlled by the bits between my legs.

My anger brought on more power, and I smiled. Hell, yes. This was what I’d been missing. This was what I needed. Just like when I’d grappled with Raj, I needed to find some counter-emotion. With Raj, it had given me the ability to surprise him. With Claudius, it fueled my power in a way he couldn’t so easily steal.

I grasped the bond again and yanked. It worked but not enough. Claudius’s power slammed into me. My nerves screamed and not in delight this time. Harder then. I could take more than I had that day he’d done this to me in Lucen’s apartment. I pulled, sensing Claudius’s surprise. But oh, gods. The second pull sent me to my knees. My real ones.

My eyes flew open, the visualization gone, and I collapsed to the floor. So much pain. Hot and sharp and electric, it raked at my nerves. For the second time today, I was frying. No salamanders required.

Clutching my head, I floundered for more power, and the agony intensified. My head was going to burst, and yet the power I was sucking in was not enough to kill the headache. I simply couldn’t hold it well enough for that. I couldn’t control it on any level. Black dots formed in front of my eyes.

Then the worst of the pain vanished.

Groaning, I slumped farther and rested my head on my knees. “I was making progress.”

“Yes,” said Claudius. “At giving yourself a migraine.”

I clenched my jaw, making the pulsing headache worse. “I beat your stupid game. I could have finished.”

“You were close to blacking out.” That was Raia, and my head snapped up. “Claudius is one of the oldest satyrs on the Upper Council. Yet he is far younger than the creatures in the Pit. You have a lot of practicing to do, so there is no sense in wearing yourself out right away.”

If Claudius were the one speaking to me, I would have protested on principle. But since it was Raia, I simply rubbed my temples and acknowledged her point.

Claudius handed me an engraved silver flask. “Take one sip. It will help.”

“What is it?” There was no way I was about to drink something just because he told me to.

“It’s a concoction we had made for you. It will numb the pain, relax your headache and restore your energy. It’s potent, and it will only work on you because you have sufficient satyr magic in your blood.”

“It’s safe,” Raia assured me. “I’ve seen your blood analysis, so it will work, though not as well as it should. It used to be given to warriors to help them fight longer and better in battle.” She glanced at Claudius. “I can’t tell what you were doing to her, but her resistance is better than you led me to believe.”

His expression was distasteful. “But not good enough.”

I scowled because I agreed with him. Cautiously, I took a sip from the flask and almost choked. “You’re messing with me again, aren’t you? This tastes like alcohol.”

“It requires an alcohol base.” Claudius capped the flask. “Give it a minute to work and we’ll start again.”

I sighed. Swell.

Chapter Fifteen

The next morning was a Saturday, and I headed over to Steph’s bearing gifts. Her boyfriend Jim was a nurse, and he was stuck pulling a double shift, so I’d told her I’d stop by to make her breakfast and catch up after yesterday.

Steph was the sort who stayed up late Friday and Saturday nights, so breakfast didn’t require me forgoing more than the usual amount of sleep. It was half past eleven when I got there, and my stomach was rumbling, which I took as a good sign. I couldn’t be too messed up from yesterday’s Claudius session if I was starving. But while my head was better than expected, I still felt run down. Climbing the steps to Steph’s apartment made me want to crawl back in bed.

To my surprise, when I knocked on the door, it was her cousin who answered. Eric Marshall was an internationally bestselling thriller author who, like many well-known people in the arts, had increased his chances of hitting it big by trading his soul to a pred.

I didn’t judge. Over the years I’d soul swapped, I’d met too many actors, musicians, athletes, students and more with sob stories about trying to break in to an industry, a profession or simply the right school where the competition was brutal. I understood how hard it could be, and I also understood how luck charms worked. I wasn’t certain that most of my clients did. A luck charm could ensure you didn’t flub an audition or that you snagged an interview, but if you sucked regardless, it wouldn’t land you a role or a job.

That said, I’d never found out exactly what Eric’s deal had specifically been for. He had enough talent to produce good books. Would they have earned him as much money and fame without the charm? I hadn’t a clue, though odds were against it.

Besides, Eric had paid for his success far more than he’d anticipated. The goblin he’d bargained with had broken their contract and stolen his soul all at once, leaving Eric a ghoul. At Steph’s request, I’d worked with the Gryphons to find the goblin and get it back before it was too late.

Looking at him today, you’d never know he’d been reduced to a barely conscious blob not quite a month ago. His eyes were bright and lively once more, and the smile that greeted me was pleasingly genuine. Then again, Eric had very good reasons to like me.

“Jessica, it’s great to see you again.” He reached for my hand, then realized I couldn’t shake while holding a pastry box, so he took the box from me instead.

“You too. You look recovered.”

“Honestly, I’ve never felt better. Not having that contract hanging over my head is the greatest feeling.” Eric set the box on the table where Steph was sitting. “If my next book tanks because of it, oh well. Lesson learned.”

Steph rolled her eyes behind Eric’s back and inspected what I’d brought. “And if the world ends in a reign of fire tomorrow, you’ll never know how it might have done. Ooh, are those sticky buns?”

“Sticky buns for you, chocolate croissants for me, and some other sugar-laden carbohydrate goodness just because. If the world ends in fire, it doesn’t matter if my pants continue to fit.”

“Amen to that.” Eric went back to Steph’s kitchen and got out the eggs. “Coffee is ready.”

“Eric saw what happened yesterday on the news, and he came down here to help me out because…” Steph lifted her leg. Her ankle was wrapped in some sort of cast, similar to the one I’d had when I sprained my wrist back in June. “So how did it go last night? Did you kick ass and take names?”

I brought us both over mugs of coffee. “Not exactly.”

I wasn’t too keen on relaying what I was doing in front of Eric, but he listened with the rapt attention of a storyteller committing all the details to memory for later use. Like probably half the world at this point, he’d also heard about Xander’s speech. While he pressed me for more information a couple times, it was clear he already must have bugged Steph for the more basic points.

There wasn’t much either Steph or Eric could offer in way of advice, and I wasn’t expecting any. I got my chance to vent, and over eggs, baked goods and coffee, the conversation drifted to other topics. I was thankful not to be the focus of it right until the moment when Eric reversed direction and we ended up close to where we’d started.

“So how did you actually get the idea to trade souls?” he asked. “It’s one hell of a hobby to have taken up.”

I broke apart my last piece of croissant and shrugged. “I didn’t do it expecting it to be a good time. I saw this girl about my age who needed help, and it seemed like something I could do.”

Steph cleared her throat in dramatic fashion. “It was a bit more complicated than that.”

“It was?” I raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, it was.” She set down her mug and faced Eric. “When I met Jess, her gift was going nuts. She thought she was turning from this good little Gryphon wannabe into some evil, misery-sucking pred wannabe. I had suggested she embrace her newly discovered evil side, and I convinced her to buy the clothes to match. But even with a hot pair of leather pants, she couldn’t let go.”

I choked on my coffee.

Steph made a stop sign in my direction. “Jess may have made some questionable choices over the years—and I’m not just talking about her fashion preferences—but basically, she’s a good person. So what does a good person with an evil ability do? She gives it an outlet. Jess channeled that terrible power into a good cause, so her conscience was clear.”

“You make me sound far more…” I paused, not hearing what Eric was saying in response. Channel the power. That’s what Raj was using me for when he forced me to help open the Pit. He’d pushed so much magic through me that I hadn’t been able to hold it, and somehow, in a reaction that was way beyond my understanding of magical theory, that power had helped blow open the locking spell.

“Jess, you okay?”

I blinked. “Steph, you might be a genius. I think you just gave me an idea for how to do that ass kicking.”

She clucked her tongue at me. “Might be? Please. There should be no question about that.”

* * * * *

I wasn’t exactly eager to face off against Claudius for a second day, but I was interested in testing out my idea. An idea that, when I slowed my racing brain to ponder it more thoroughly, I wasn’t sure how to actually put into practice.

Le Confrérie de l’Aile
had called for a meeting this afternoon because they apparently had some updates, but it wasn’t for a few hours. I went to headquarters early and immediately hit their library. I could really have used a tutor on magical theory, but Lucen was sleeping, Tom was busy, and I didn’t want to bug Dezzi. If only Olef were alive, he’d have been the perfect person to ask, but I had fucking Raj to thank for murdering him. At least Raj was dead too.

She’s a good person,
I heard Steph say, and I sighed. Killing Raj might have been for a good cause, but it had been just as much for vengeance. Every day though it became easier to deal with what I’d done. Did that make me a bad person or simply normal? Or was the emotional fallout merely waiting for me to have a moment to deal with it?

Whichever, I didn’t have the moment yet. In the library I found what books the Gryphons kept about magical theory and got reading. Anything that could help me understand what I’d done and how to do it with control—those were the only topics I had room for in my brain.

My nose was buried in my third book when I sensed someone hovering nearby. I dropped the book and found Tom standing in the doorway.

“Someone told me you were in here. You’ll be late for the meeting.”

I rubbed my tired eyes. “Do you need me? I’m learning useful stuff.”

“Take the book then. Yes, we need you. Decisions have to be made, and your opinion will be crucial.”

That intrigued me, and I marked the page in the book. “My opinion finally counts for something around here? Never thought that day would come.”

Tom answered my sarcasm with an expression indicating he wasn’t amused, and he walked away.

“Have you heard from Grace lately?” I asked, jogging to catch up. Despite the Gryphons’ best efforts to keep an eye on her, she’d successfully managed to sneak out of headquarters the other day. Grace might hate her gift, but I couldn’t believe she’d have managed to do that without it. When attempting to avoid people, it helped being able to sense where they were.

“No, but Mitch said she texted him last night when he asked if she was ready to return.” Tom held open the door for me. “The answer was no.”

“Shocker.”

So much for being late—we were among the first people to arrive. Over the next several minutes, Lucen and the other satyrs filed in, along with the magi, goblins and harpies. As usual, it was crowded in the conference room, and the groups self-segregated.

Mitch leaned against a wall next to me, more relaxed than I’d seen him before. I’d been informed he made good progress yesterday with Dezzi, so his confidence must be increasing. I was happy for us both. Grace was an unfortunate dead end. The best I could hope for her was that she learned to deal with her anxiety. Since that left only two of us who could potentially withstand the demons’ powers, I wanted us both to be as strong as we could.

“We have much to discuss,” Ingrid said, drawing my attention to the matter at hand. “Let’s get started. I want to bring everyone up to date on what we’ve learned since the last meeting and hear how Mitchell and Jessica are doing with their training. Then we must consider everything and make a decision.”

My fingers tapped the borrowed book’s cover as I listened. Although I knew I should pay attention, I was eager to get back to my studying. The topics that Ingrid and the magi discussed didn’t involve me much. Mainly, they talked about what they’d learned would be needed to perform the spell that would close the Pit.

Gunthra and the goblins had been busy working on that part too, and they also spoke. Everyone but Mitch and I had been busy gathering supplies as well as information and making plans about who would need to do what part. Closing the prison would continue to require the coalition to work together.

It was when the issue of timing was brought up that I understood the decision Tom and Ingrid had mentioned.

“The spell to close the Pit must be performed under a waning moon,” Ingrid explained.

A few preds and Gryphons exchanged tense glances. They were obviously the ones who were used to making charms. A lot of complicated magic depended on different lunar and solar phases, so they would track those things.

“We can’t possibly be ready by then,” one of the goblins said. “The moon is already in a waning cycle. By the time we’re ready to implement—”

“We have approximately seven more days.” Ingrid looked at me and Mitch, then turned to the satyrs. “We might be able to have everything prepared by then. Will you be ready?”

Claudius reclined in his chair, crossing his arms. “Doubtful.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “We have to be. We can’t put things off another month. The thunder is becoming more frequent, and people are becoming more panicky. All the chaos has got to be fueling the demons. Another month might be too late.”

“Tomorrow could be too late,” a magi said. “We have no ability to say when the demons will emerge.”

“All the more reason to hurry.”

Claudius cocked his obnoxiously perfect head to the side, meeting my glare. “Don’t get angry at me. You two are the holdups. If this group had taken my advice and killed you and the others when I’d suggested it, the furies could never have opened the Pit in the first place.”

My arm twitched. I was ready to throw the library book at him, but I took a deep breath instead. “We’ll be ready.”

Mitch mumbled something I couldn’t make out, but I could be fairly sure it was along the lines of “Yeah, right.” Even Lucen regarded me with concern. Apparently no one believed my ability to take down Claudius in the next few days.

I fumed silently, feeling ridiculous. I doubted myself too, but I preferred it when everyone else claimed they believed in me.

“If we’re moving ahead then,” Tom said, “we need to discuss the team that’s going to accompany Jessica and Mitchell into the Pit.”

Claudius dragged his gaze away from me. “That would be a job for your organization, wouldn’t it?”

Obviously Claudius didn’t intend to offer himself up as a volunteer. I searched the nonhuman faces in the room, wondering if he was going to be the only one to refuse.

“We don’t know what we’ll find in the Pit,” Tom pointed out. “For this reason, we think that a diverse group would be best.”

The magi who’d spoken earlier cleared her throat. “Odds are, in their attempts to escape over the years, the demons would have molded the prison with their magic. A group of trained fighters with many talents and skills does make the most sense.”

“And a convenient one,” said Gunthra. “Seeing as the magi boast no soldiers or warriors among their race.”

The many colored feathers on the various magi ruffled. Gunthra knew as well as the rest of us that magi could be terrifying fighters when in their bird forms. But for the magi to defend themselves that way was akin to them bragging of the reasons why they should volunteer. No doubt that was Gunthra’s intention. The silence that followed suggested the magi preferred to endure the slight rather than sign their people up for certain death.

Lucen broke the heavy lull. “Well, I volunteer.”

My stomach sank. Of course he would volunteer. And later, I would not try to talk him out of it because it was his choice and it would be futile anyway. I’d simply lie in bed tonight, sick with worry.

Dezzi stood. The hard lines of her mouth made me believe she was about to chastise Lucen for not consulting her, but I was wrong. “I do as well, and I will find two more recruits among my people. Some of us are not cowards.”

I couldn’t tell if that comment was aimed at the magi, the goblins, Claudius or all of the above, but Gunthra’s ears flattened and Claudius bristled as though he’d sat on a pin. I gaped in shock, wondering if Dezzi intended to go through with her decision. I’d pegged her for a badass a while ago, but in a politically savvy, leadership way. Then again, as I’d reminded myself many times lately, preds didn’t rise to her position without being able to prove themselves mentally, physically or magically.