Dirty Little Misery (Miss Misery) (10 page)

“You bought a curse and used it on her.” It wasn’t the first time I’d heard this sort of story, although it was the first time I’d heard it from a dancer. Musicians rigging auditions, grad students fighting for scholarship money, athletes taking down rivals—I got them all. Hell, I’d gotten lawyers so desperate to win a case that they’d torpedoed other lawyers or even clients and judges. Justice might be blind, but She wasn’t immune to a powerful curse or two. There were a thousand types of curses out there, ranging from generic bad luck to all sorts of unspeakably specific evils. If you could imagine it, there was probably a pred who could conjure it up for the right price. And it was all highly illegal.

It was also highly frustrating. Cases like this were never ones I took for free. While there were always worse people out there than my client, I had a hard time pitying them.

This time, at least, my would-be client seemed to have remorse for what she’d done, which was more than I could say for many. Beneath her fear, I could sense her sadness and self-disgust. That softened my feelings for her a bit. Everyone made mistakes.

Bee covered her mouth with her hands again as if trying to hide her face from me. “I feel horrible, and I wish I hadn’t done it. And what’s worse is that it hasn’t changed anything. I’m still jealous of her. I still hate that she’s perceived as being better than me. And if it’s this bad now, these feelings, I can’t imagine what it’s going to be like if I’m an addict. You have to help me, please. If I could take back what I did, I would.”

It’s easy to believe someone’s being sincere when you could taste deception. In her case, I didn’t. “I can help you, I hope. Tell me who you bought the curse from.” And please let it be from someone I’d done business with before. That always made my life easier.

“He’s a harpy. I was told his name is Rich, or it might have been Rick. I met him at a bakery in Shadowtown.”

It was Rik, not Rick, but they sounded close enough. My shoulders relaxed. I’d dealt with him before. Rik thought of himself as an artist with sugar, but he wasn’t averse to making money on the side by selling illegal charms. His M.O. was to work them into his confections.

“I know who that is. Check back at the bar in a week. I’ll either have straightened this out for you, or I’ll leave you a message with an update.”

The taste of lemon sherbet lightened on my tongue. “I don’t know how to thank you. How much do I owe you for this?”

I hesitated. Maybe it was because my new job meant I wasn’t hard up for money, or because I was taking more pleasure than usual in helping this woman since I was metaphorically spitting on the Gryphons. Or maybe I was trying to make myself feel better after a crappy day.

Or maybe I was getting soft. Could happen.

“We’ll worry about that later, after we know I can complete the job. When it’s done, you can decide how much it was worth to you.”

Bee nodded vigorously. “Okay, that seems more than fair.”

It
was
more than fair. The dangerous part of my job was tracking down someone else’s soul to trade away. She’d have no idea what I’d need to go through to do that, and at this point, neither did I.

Regardless, I took great satisfaction in watching her leave. I could do good deeds, damn it. It might not make up for condoning what Lucen did, but it might alleviate my conscience for a while.

When I got to The Lair, it was closing in on midnight. Shadowtown was bustling with activity, but the bar itself was emptying out. No one felt much like enjoying themselves on a Monday, no matter what race they were.

I didn’t see Lucen right away, but Paulius nodded at me in greeting as he dried a shot glass. Wondering if I should have gone straight to Lucen’s apartment, I wandered deeper into the bar. Since I was here, I might as well go up the back stairs.

I’d just opened the kitchen door when Lucrezia’s voice stilled my stride. “You invited her to stay with you again?”

Slowly, I lowered my hand and let the door close all but a crack. Standing utterly motionless, I strained to hear the response.

“What I do or don’t do with Jess isn’t your business.” Lucen sounded angry, which I expected him to be after what happened this afternoon, but Lucrezia sounded far more pissed off.

“I can’t believe you said that. As Dezzi’s second, it is very much my business to be monitoring what you do because what you do reflects on all of us. Last week, I wouldn’t have cared. But you heard about the Gryphons searching Purgatory today, and Jessica was there. She’s not just a human snack for you anymore. She’s a Gryphon.”

Something went bang inside the kitchen. “If Dezzi has a problem with it, she’ll make it known. Until Dezzi has a problem, you don’t have a problem.”

“No, that
is
the problem, Lucen. Dezzi has her hands full, so she’s turning a blind eye to too many things lately. First it was Angelia, then it was you taking Jessica under our protection during the murders. If Dezzi’s overlooking that, then she’ll overlook this. But others won’t. What if the Upper Council finds out? It’s my job, and Devon’s job, and your job too, which I shouldn’t have to remind you, to help Dezzi out—not to make things worse. We have a responsibility to every satyr in this domus.”

Lucen must have started pacing because I could see his body flash by the crack in the doorway. I held my breath. “I’m not getting into the Angelia situation again, but protecting Jess worked out in our favor in the long run. So let Dezzi handle this too. If something is going on with the F supply, then she has bigger problems than me letting Jess sleep over a few extra nights a week.”

Who the hell was Angelia?

Lucrezia clicked her tongue. “Yes, and if something is going on with the F supply, then sharing your bed with a Gryphon is such a smart move. You’re proving my point. She’s a threat to us.”

I winced because Lucrezia’s argument wasn’t without merit. If someone in the satyrs was killing humans via F, I’d have no qualms busting them for it. Looking past Lucen’s addicts was one thing. Condoning murder was something else.

Dragon shit on toast. What was it with satyrs pointing out things I didn’t want to hear today?

I missed half of Lucen’s response, and just in time caught him telling Lucrezia he needed to go back to work.

I stepped away from the door, wondering if I should bother pretending I hadn’t heard anything. Lucen and Lucrezia might have been too busy arguing to sense my presence, but Paulius had probably noticed me listening at the door.

Speaking of which, said door swung open and Lucrezia swept by me without a word. I thought I’d gotten lucky, but she seemed to reconsider a moment later. Before I could dart into the kitchen, she’d grabbed my arm.

She was made-up and dressed as stylish as always, but beneath her carefully put-together appearance, I could detect a weariness in her face. Lucrezia was more stressed than I’d ever seen her.

She bent her head toward me. “If you cared about him, you’d stay away. You’re not doing him any favors.”

I flailed for an acerbic retort, but Lucrezia didn’t give me the chance. She released me and left in a cloud of pheromones.

Regaining my composure, I stepped into the bar’s kitchen and coughed loudly to get Lucen’s attention. His forehead was pressed against the fridge, and he seemed surprised to see me.

“I think I arrived at a bad time.”

Lucen shook off his daze, but his smile was thin. “Never a bad time for you, little siren.”

“I’m getting you in trouble again, aren’t I? If it’s not a good idea to have me stay here, just say so. I still have an apartment.”

“What? No. It’s fine.”

“Really? Because I heard what Lucrezia was saying.”

He came over and wrapped his arms around me. I leaned against him, wishing it didn’t feel so good. Could I walk away from this for his sake? For my own? I couldn’t get Devon’s accusation out of my head. Not even Lucen’s magic was silencing my worries, although it was making it harder to care.

“She has a point,” I murmured into Lucen’s chest.

“Screw her point.” He cupped my cheek and reached down to kiss me, slow and sweet. It was what I needed—or maybe what I didn’t need—but a moan slid up my throat. Lucen’s eyes glowed brighter with power as he pulled away, feeding on my desire. “Lucrezia doesn’t know everything.”

“But what about Dezzi?”

“Relax, Jess.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I. Let me help you.” With a slow smile, he slid his hands around my hips and unbuttoned my jeans. “Dezzi doesn’t know everything either.”

Gasping, I draped my arms around his neck, and his warm fingers skimmed over my underwear before slipping beneath. My thighs clenched around him, arousal seeping over his touch. “But I got you in trouble with her before.”

“And it worked out before. So no worries.” His breath was like fire on my ear, and when his lips tugged on my earlobe, I lost all ability to think. My body gave over to him, his fingers probing between my wet folds. My hands clenched into fists around his hair. He pressed me closer, playing my body with the skill of a maestro.

“You shouldn’t…do this…” Hell, talking between breaths was hard. So was standing. “Someone could walk in.”

One hand tightened its grip on my backside, while a finger on his other delved into me. I shuddered, clutching more of him to stay upright. “I don’t care,” Lucen whispered. “That’s what you have to understand. Lucrezia, other people? They’re not as important as this. This is what I want. You are what I want.”

I tried to respond, but I couldn’t. Longed to reach for his erection, hot and heavy against me through his jeans, but I couldn’t do that either. I was lost, desperate and incoherent. And when he thrust a second slick finger in me to join the first, his thumb circling over my most sensitive spot, I couldn’t do anything but muffle my moans in his T-shirt as I came, biting his chest. And still, he squeezed my ass tighter, holding me so close I could barely breathe until my shudders subsided.

God, he made that way, way too easy sometimes.

I sagged with disappointment, breathing hard, as he pulled his hand away at last. “Thank you for that. But now I really need to go back to work.”

I loosened my grip on him but didn’t let go. His cinnamon scent clung to me, and I wasn’t ready to give up on him or his body. “I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

“You won’t. You aren’t.” Lucen kissed me, decisively this time, as though that could stop my arguing, and he backed away before I could unfasten the button on his jeans. “Maybe just do me a favor? If you’re going to go raid Purgatory or another of our businesses again, it would be really nice if you could give me a heads-up.”

I closed my eyes, feeling my arousal sink like a lead weight. As fast as he could stoke my desire, he could also annoy me. It was impressive. I zipped my pants. “One, if you have nothing to hide, you shouldn’t need warning. Two, Devon had no problem getting tipped off without my help. And three, that would be extremely unethical on my part.”

“Four, it would nonetheless be a nice gesture, especially if you’re truly unhappy about being forced into the Gryphons. It would go a long way toward convincing people, like Lucrezia, of that.”

“Damn it. People are dead. Whether I wanted to help the Gryphons or not is irrelevant. I want the murderer found. If someone is tainting F, then I’m not about to help them get away with it.”

Lucen flung the towel he’d used to dry his hands at the sink. “I don’t care about random people. I care about you. About us. You say you’re worried about getting me in trouble with Dezzi? I’m giving you ideas to help us make this work.” He checked the time. “I’ll see you in the apartment soon.”

We would see about that.

I stared at the door after Lucen disappeared through it.
I care about you. About us.
But what about them?
Them
deserved consideration too.

But they wouldn’t get it. Not from a pred. I knew that, and yet… And yet I was constantly trying to overlook it, wasn’t I? Trying to do good with one hand, while my other covered my eyes from the evil I chose to associate with.

Not exactly a paragon of moral virtue. Just like Devon had said.

Chapter Ten

I spent the next few days stewing over my issues. There was no way to hide your turmoil from a pred, so Lucen had to be aware that I wasn’t happy. More to the point, given his own foul mood, he must have been aware he was the source of at least some of my angst.

We silently agreed not to discuss it. It was familiar territory, and not something that could be solved by talking. He couldn’t change his nature. I couldn’t turn off my humanity. No relationship counselor was going to be able to talk us into a solution. All I could do was choose not to condone his behavior, but that meant leaving and probably ruining not just our weird relationship but also our ten-year friendship. The thought of that made me ill.

Besides our relationship, the other topic we didn’t talk about was the Newton case. Andre and I were continuing to investigate the victims to see if we could find a motive. The Stacys’ neighbors had been interviewed extensively to learn whether they’d seen or heard anything, and I was discovering more about the dreary tedium of detective work than I’d ever wanted to know.

Because of that—lack of—progress, the Gryphons were still counting on me to unlock the secrets of F from the satyrs, but I hadn’t done a thing about it since my one conversation with Lucen. Bringing it up was sure to provoke a fight, and what I’d originally told the Gryphons was true enough. I really didn’t know who else to ask.

That was, I didn’t know who else to ask who might actually be willing to talk. I knew plenty of satyrs who
wouldn’t
talk. I was living with one.

Thursday at noon—Steph’s lunch hour—I got a chance to break out of my gloomy rut and do something I’d been looking forward to. Steph was taking me to meet her contact about cracking the encrypted files.

I hopped off the Green Line and crossed the street, heading away from one of Boston University’s dorms. Above, the sun darted in and out of the clouds, and below, heat rose off the street like steam. It had been cool and rainy the last couple days, but summer had returned with a vengeance. I fanned the back of my neck with my ponytail and frowned at the street sign on the corner. None of the businesses down the road had readable signs. I passed more restaurants, a Laundromat, and a used books and music store, but no computer repair place. I was about to cross the street when I heard my name.

Steph waved, and yes, she was on the other side of the road. Figured. I hurried over and glanced up at the dingy sign on the storefront over her head.
Ye Olde Computer Shoppe.
Nice.

The window was dirty and didn’t contain much to look at. A smaller sign by the door advertised repairs, custom-built machines and data recovery specialists.

“How’s the apartment search going?” Steph asked.

With Lucen’s help, I’d thrown myself into the effort. It was one of the few subjects we could agree on—I needed my own space. “Slowly. I checked out a new place yesterday, but it was very meh. So have you ever met this person?” I motioned toward the store.

Steph shook her head. She was dressed for work, which always amused me because the black chinos and collared blouses she wore were so not her. Dress codes were a bitch.

She crushed a cigarette beneath her spiky-heeled boot. “I’ve met him online only, and I’ve told you all I know. You could be exposing all sorts of secrets by doing this. Are you sure you want to?”

“Positive. The Gryphons are blocking me from talking to Victor, so those files are all I have until I can figure out another plan.” Preferably another plan that did not involve Tom Kassin. “I have a way to deal with the trust stuff. It’ll be fine.”

Steph finger-combed her hair, using the store window as a mirror. “You and your plans. Just promise me this one doesn’t include an imp swarm.”

“No imps, no dragons, no charms even.” I held up my empty hands.

“I’m holding you to that. Okay then. Let’s do this.” She pulled the door open.

The shop interior was every bit as dark and dingy as the window, and the place smelled like stale coffee. It was tiny too. Cramped. Computer parts and accessories littered the shelves, and the far wall was decorated in Bruins paraphernalia. Boston, the band, played on a stereo somewhere, but I didn’t see any speakers.

A black curtain swung open beneath the most recent year’s pennant, and a twenty-something guy emerged from a back room. His brown ringlets were pulled back in a ponytail, and he was a couple days late for a shave. “How can I help you?”

“Are you Ben?” Steph asked. “I’m the one who contacted you about some data recovery.”

“Oh, right. My special recovery services.” He grinned impishly and beckoned to the curtained-off room in the back. “Excellent. Come into my office, ladies.”

Ladies? Steph threw me an I-told-you-so glance, and I whispered, “Geeks” at her, which earned me a smack on my ear.

We barely fit in Ben’s back room. He had so many computers, they took up every available surface inch, and they all appeared to be on and functioning. It was also cold, the AC cranked, presumably because of the machines.

Ben turned down the music, which was playing from one of them. “So what do you have, and when do you need it? I make no promises.”

I took a flash drive from my pocket and set it on the table by him. I’d made a copy of the files, leaving the originals hidden in my apartment. “There are five files on it. I’m guessing they all have the same protections, so if you could start with the one with the name Jessica Moore on it first, I’d appreciate it.”

“As you wish.” Ben plugged the drive into one of the computers and opened it. Each file was labeled identically—a name, the word Philadelphia and a number one through five. He pointed to the screen. “Aubrey? Isn’t he the sack of salamander shit the Gryphons arrested for those murders?”

“Yup.”

Ben twisted around in his seat, his eyes suspicious and his gaze darting between me and Steph. “So you want to give me an idea of what I’m dealing with? Anyone who might be interested in why I have these files or where I got them?”

Steph crossed her arms. “I thought you didn’t ask questions.”

“Yeah, well, no one’s ever given me an encrypted file with a serial killer’s name in it before. This is a little different from what I’m used to dealing with. Do I get hazard pay?”

Ben had been jittery to begin with—the result of too much coffee, I expected—but his anxiety was rising. It was time to put my plan into action and hope it worked.

“Relax,” I told him, pushing out with my gift on the second syllable. The magic wormed its way around him, and Ben’s face drained of some of its tension. In its place came lust. I hated this part, hated making strangers yearn for me this way, but it left their minds malleable. I could take advantage of that, and my ability to do so had never failed me before. “No one is going to come looking for those files. No one is going to ask for those files.”

“No?” His full attention was on me. I could taste his longing like chocolate ice cream, but I gave him credit for not being rude. Some people couldn’t keep their hands off me once I worked my magic on them, which was partly why I loathed doing it. Ben, however, was a gentleman. A geeky gentleman, but a gentleman, and that was worth something.

“Nope, no one knows the files have been copied. And this is important—no one can ever know what’s on them except for me.” He was in a chair, so I lowered my head until we were face-to-face. Through the bond connecting us, I concentrated every drop of my power. I’d never tried something like this before. I’d convinced people to forget my face or forget that we’d met, but this was far more complicated. “You cannot tell anyone else about me, these files or what you might find. Understand?”

His eyes were glassy but focused. “No one but you. I get it.”

“Good.” I broke the connection. Ben’s glasses had slid down his nose while he’d fixated on me, and he pushed them up. “Now how much do I owe you for this?”

I wanted to keep his mind busy so he didn’t figure out what I’d done. Usually, after bashing someone over the head with my gift, I got to hightail it away, but not this time. I had to make sure, as best I could, that my trick had worked.

Thankfully, Ben proved easily distractible, and after discussing a price—half of which I paid up front, the other half due if he could actually crack the encryption—Steph and I left.

I could sense a storm brewing in her, but I’d been too focused on talking with Ben to pay it much mind. Once we stepped outside and I decided the heat called for ice cream, I had Steph’s cayenne anger flooding me instead. “What?”

“What? What, Jess?” Steph stuck her hands on her hips, her eyes wild. “Are you really asking that? You magically assaulted him. Don’t think I can’t recognize when you’re using your gift. I’ve gone hunting with you enough times.”

I gaped right back at her, then stepped off to the side to let a group of girls in sorority shirts walk by. “Yeah, you have. Exactly. What I did is no different than what I’ve done hundreds of times. So I’m not following your outrage.”

Even dressed in her mundane work clothes, Steph could be kind of scary when she got angry. It had to be something about a woman of her height with a voice that deep. She pulled me by the arm onto an empty section of sidewalk. “You’ve done it to criminals.”

“If he cracks those files, he is a criminal. I thought the whole point of you finding this guy was because we needed someone with flexible ethics.”

Steph stuck her sunglasses on, sparing me from her glaring. “You are missing the point by miles.”

“Maybe you’re not being clear enough then. I mean, Ben’s not a violent criminal like the people I usually go after, but it’s also not like I mind-fucked him to steal his soul. I just needed to put a suggestion on him so he wouldn’t screw me over later. You were the one reminding me how risky it is to let anyone else see what’s in those files.”

Down the block, a train pulled up to the stop in a terrible racket. Damn. Now we’d have to wait for the next one.

Steph took out a cigarette. Her anger was fading, but she was on edge and most definitely unhappy with me. “Ben is doing something risky for you. Yes, you’re paying him, but you want what he can do—that makes him one of the good guys. Yet you just treated him like he’s one of the bad guys. Like there’s no difference.”

“Of course there’s a difference. I’m not hurting him.”

“But you are. It’s coercion.”

“It’s minor. It doesn’t affect him in any other way.”

Steph turned away to blow her smoke downwind. “It’s using your gift to bend another innocent human to your will. That’s pred-like, Jess. You know it. Or have you been spending so much time in your other friends’ company that you’re starting to think like them?”

Her words were a slap to the face. A wrongly deserved slap, but a slap nonetheless. They stung. “That’s not true.”

“No?”

“No. I used to use my gift all the time to get us into clubs, or buy alcohol when we were underage. Remember that? So how is this different?”

Steph wet her lips and started toward the T stop. “I was younger and dumber. Same reason I used to do all kinds of illegal hacking before wising up. ’Sides, I was never exactly comfortable with you using your gift that way, and I was happy when you finally stopped. You decided it wasn’t right, and you were only going to use your gift to help people. Do you remember
that
?”

I hung back at the edge of the crosswalk because more people had gathered for the train. I had said that once, hadn’t I? “This was a one-time deal. Getting into those files is helpful, or might be. I’m not going to make a habit out of this. I’m an almost-Gryphon now.”

Steph took a long drag, assessing me through the smoke she exhaled. “Please don’t. It creeps me the hell out when you do it for a good cause, but I let it go because I know your heart is in the right place. You’re my best friend. I don’t want my best friend acting like a pred.”

She smiled, and I smiled back, but inside I felt vomitous. I was not acting like a pred. Of that I was confident. But what was I going to do if Steph found out that the reason I had the potential to act pred-like because I really was part pred?

She and Lucen were all I had for confidantes these days. Suddenly, I was on the edge of losing them both.

My mood was bad when I left Steph and headed to the Gryphon’s building. The upside to our argument was that I had a bottomless well of energy to draw from. Thus, I might not fall asleep during my meeting with Andre and Brian.

I set my coffee down, booted up my computer and checked my email. After telling my meeting reminder to go away, I froze as I read the subject line on my sole message. It was from Anna.

BLOOD ANALYSIS: Jessica Moore results

Hadn’t I just been worrying what Steph would do if she discovered the truth? I might be one step closer to her finding out. Her and
everyone
finding out.

Bracing myself, I clicked on the email, which was brief and not useful, then opened the attachment containing the actual analysis.

Here, alas, I was at a bit of a loss since I had only the barest idea how to read the graphs and numbers Anna had supplied. Fortunately, she’d written up her interpretation, and that’s what I focused on, discovering two relevant paragraphs.

The first came at the beginning:
As you can see from the insoluble magic, JM’s blood doesn’t fit the typical human profile, although that was expected. The third and fourth lines on pages 5 — 7 are suggestive of a pred profile, most likely a satyr, but that’s not a clear match either. (Not surprising!)

Her ability to sense emotions…
Here Anna went on about a bunch of technical stuff that didn’t mean much to me.

Then there was this gem:
I’ll search the database to see if we have anything similar on file, but rec taking up Agent Kassin on his suggestion to obtain a sample from Aubrey for cross-reference once he’s clean.

My mouth went dry. My brain didn’t know what to fixate on first, and my blood pressure didn’t care. I could practically hear my blood thumping through my heart over the din of the AC.

On one hand, this was a relief. Anna could see a suggestion of satyr magic in my blood but couldn’t actually pin me down as being part satyr. An older, more knowledgeable Gryphon might have come across a similar profile before and recognized the signs, but then again, perhaps not. I could only hope Gunthra was right when she’d told me how rare I was. I might not yet have my darkest, ugliest secret exposed.