[M__M 03] Misery Loves Company (10 page)

I wasn’t sure I’d have picked up on the similarities myself. The first vision had been recorded in the fifteenth century. Along with the original Latin text was the journal-writer’s translation, which was the only way I could read it. Even so, it bore faint resemblance—at the surface level—to the second recording from the seventeenth century, and less so to the third vision from the nineteenth. The second had been recorded in Latin, as well. The last in English.

The world had changed drastically during those times and since then, but eventually I figured out the “gray mountains of man” and “teeth of steel thrust into the sky” that were described in the earliest vision must have referred to modern cities and skylines filled with what would have seemed like impossibly tall buildings.

The second vision described the cities differently but was similar in other, more disturbing ways. According to this recording, the first demons—whatever they were—would be freed by fire and flood, and rise to enslave humanity. More talk of blood came after that. Rivers of blood. Tears of blood. Oceans of blood. Blood of something called the Others.

The second vision was obsessed with blood.

I remembered reading something about Others and Firsts in one of the books I’d paged through while snooping in Tom’s office, but this journal contained no more information on what they were than that book had. Just lots about blood, and fires too.

Oh, the fires. All the visions described the purple smoke and blackened skies of salamander fires burning through the cities.

The hair on my neck prickled as I read the description of them given in the third and most recent vision, and I clenched my jaw. I’d heard something similar, too similar for comfort, before.

Olef, a friend of mine among Boston’s magi population, had thrown me for one hell of a loop not too long ago. It was only recently that I’d learned he was a clairvoyant, and not just any clairvoyant. A clairvoyant who’d had a vision of me.

He’d described the same sort of scene—cities burning in salamander fires—and he’d claimed to have seen me in the middle of it all.

Much as I hated to admit it, the visions in this journal did sound familiar. Olef had said nothing of Others and Firsts, but his timing was eerily on cue. Each vision had come every two hundred years, right around the turn of the century. Fifteenth. Seventeenth. Nineteenth. And now the twenty-first for Olef.

And both Olef, like Tom, seemed to think this somehow concerned me.

I slammed the book shut. Did. Not. Like.

My yogurt remained before me, mostly untouched, but I didn’t feel hungry any longer.

“Stupid. Who’s to say any of this is real? Not all visions come true, and besides, maybe whatever this is doesn’t happen for another two hundred years.”

Of course, Olef hadn’t indicated the cities he saw were futuristic looking, and I wouldn’t be there if his vision was of two hundred years in the future. Satyr subspecies or not, I seemed to age like a normal human, not a pred.

“And anyway, Olef’s visions might not even be related. Why am I talking to myself? First internal arguments at The Lair, and now this. I’m losing it.”

Cursing, I stuffed the yogurt back in my fridge and nearly jumped out of my skin when my phone rang in the bedroom. Pulling myself together, I realized that was Steph’s ringtone, and I dashed to get it. A distraction couldn’t have come at a better time.

“I got your message,” Steph said as I paced the short length of my apartment. “Can we meet up for lunch tomorrow so you can fill me in on how Eric’s case is going?”

Right foot, left foot, spin around in front of the window and do it again. “Yeah, yeah, sounds good.”

“You okay? You sound spacey. What are you doing?”

I let my fingers graze the cover of Tom’s book as I passed through the narrow kitchen. “Oh, you know. Contemplating the end of the world.”

“Sounds like fun.”

I paused, catching my reflection in the bedroom window. I looked like shit. Very much like someone contemplating the end of the world, indeed. “You know me. No one who knows me thinks I’m fun.”

Chapter Eleven

I met Steph for lunch the next day at a crowded sandwich shop near the hospital where she worked. She’d already commandeered a booth for us, and I joined her without anticipating a fun conversation. I hadn’t slept well thanks to my not-so-light pre-bed reading. Plus Dezzi’s offer stuck in my head like a tack. One pinning a piece of paper to me with a giant scarlet S on it for satyr.

Steph didn’t look so hot herself. She sported circles under her eyes that were only partially obscured by her concealer, and she had on her glasses instead of the freaky bright green contact lenses she normally wore.

“Tired eyes?” I asked, spinning my buzzer around on the table.

“Tired Steph. I ripped my contact this morning because I was half asleep, and I didn’t feel like getting out a new one.” She took a long draw from her soda. “This stuff doesn’t have as much caffeine as coffee, does it?”

“Don’t think so.”

Steph wrinkled her nose. “I’ll get coffee to go. So what’s going on with Eric?”

I shifted in my seat as I filled Steph in on everything that had happened with the lawyer, Gunthra and the other leads and tactics the Gryphons were pursuing.

“That’s it?” Steph stared at me.

I spread my hands helplessly. “Bridget’s good. She knows what she’s doing, and they’re doing all they can.”

“Then why aren’t they using you to help too?” Her buzzer went off, and she scowled like she wanted to throw it at someone.

Ironic that I’d always thought Steph put way too much faith in the Gryphons, but for once, when I thought they were doing their best, she didn’t seem to agree. I supposed it was always different when it was your life or your family on the line. Then nothing would seem to be enough.

My buzzer went off as she was returning to the table, so it was a few more minutes before we could resume our conversation.

“My family is sick,” Steph continued, picking at her sandwich. “I thought they were awful before, for what they did to me, but in contrast to this, I could almost respect them for that. It’s one thing to stand by your convictions and tell me you think I’m wrong because I don’t fit with your version of religion. If that’s what you need in your life, fine. But now they’ve swarmed in like vultures circling over Eric’s money. Of course, it’s all under the self-righteous guise that he did this to himself and got what he deserved. So I told Tim last night that if Eric’s money was all ill gained through deals with the devil, then they should plan to give it away instead of keeping it for themselves.”

I swallowed my bite of sandwich. “And what did he say?”

“You have to ask?” Steph flung hair over her shoulders and finally started to eat, but she managed only a couple bites before she went on a new rant.

I listened quietly, understanding her need to vent and grateful that I’d thought to order food that went well with the spicy rage her emotions stirred. As she spoke, it dawned on me that Steph hadn’t cared so much about an update on the case. She’d just needed to talk. Likewise, she wasn’t upset with the Gryphons’ lack of progress so much as she was with the world in general.

“This is why I never talked about or to my family.” Steph tossed her half-uneaten sandwich on the plate. “They make me ill. I swear to God, Jess, some humans are as bad as preds. They feed on misery the same way. I think they enjoy it. You should hear the way my family moralizes over Eric. They’re lapping up his suffering like preds.”

I cleared my throat. “Hey now, misery-feeder right here. Let’s be kind to those of us stuck getting head rushes from other people’s emotions. Okay? Not all of us actually enjoy it.”

A half-smile cracked Steph’s lips. “You’re different. You use your ability for good, and you don’t create misery just to feed on it. You’re not a pred or one of my relatives.”

My own smile faltered. Well, I wasn’t one of her relatives anyway.

Tell her,
I yelled at myself. For the love of dragons, I’d told Dezzi yesterday. All the satyrs probably knew by now. It was hardly a secret.

But nope, still couldn’t. I rationalized it as usual—not the right time. Steph had more pressing concerns.

“What is it?”

I quit poking at my sandwich. “Nothing.”

“Liar. Your entire body twitched when I said you weren’t a pred or a relative, and since I’m pretty sure we’re not related…” Steph lowered her glasses so she could stare at me better. “You’re not beating yourself up over your freakishness, are you? I thought you’d made peace with your curse years ago.”

I opened my mouth, shut it, opened it again, and took a bite of my pickle to delay speaking. “I’m at peace. Total peace. See me being Zen.”

“Then what was it?”

“Um, you know, just stuff.” I shrugged. “Not important. You and Eric and your stuff is important. Don’t let me bother you with my crap.”

Steph flopped back against the booth. “Bother me, please. I need to talk about something else. It’s only fair. I ranted at you for ten minutes. Go on. Something’s bugging you if you were thinking about the end of the world last night.”

Oh, crap. What exactly did I have to talk about? The actual end-of-the-world stuff was out because it skirted too close to Tom and the Brotherhood and the truth about me. There was also no way I was bringing up my deal with Gunthra. So what did that leave? The oh-so-pressing decision I’d been contemplating about cutting my hair?

I blurted out the next thing that came to mind, which at least was a problem believably agonizing. “What are your thoughts on monogamy? Lifestyle choice or biological imperative?”

“Say what?” I had her attention if nothing else. “Last I knew you weren’t in
one
relationship, never mind more.”

I scratched my neck, suddenly wishing I’d brought up the magi visions after all. “For argument’s sake, let’s say I’m in a casual relationship with someone. Nothing committed.” Lucen would hate that characterization of our relationship, but he wasn’t here to remind me that committed didn’t necessarily mean monogamous. “But let’s say I’m also attracted to someone else. What does that suggest?”

“I don’t know, but I’m intrigued.” Steph tapped a finger over her lips, a gesture that usually suggested she was craving a smoke. “And I don’t see the problem so long as everyone is okay with it.”

“So you don’t think it’s weird?”

Steph snorted. “If it involves you, it’s weird by definition. But no, I don’t see the big deal. Is Person One this Gryphon you mentioned a couple weeks ago? The one you said was hot and you went out with?”

I cringed at the memory. Poor Andre. My former partner
was
hot, and a nice guy, and now most definitely wanted nothing to do with me thanks to Lucrezia’s damn sex drugs. I wasn’t sorry that Lucrezia had ruined any chance for us to have a relationship, but losing a friend sucked.

“No, that thing fell apart before it went anywhere, unfortunately.”

“Damn, bummer. So who is it, and why haven’t you mentioned him before?”

Because he’s a satyr and you’ll lose your shit?

“It’s not that satyr, is it?”

Score a point for Steph. Damn it. “How did you do that?”

Steph blinked at me like I’d slapped her. “Are you kidding me? It is?”

I slumped in my seat, hoping to end up under the table. But Steph kicked me in the shins, and I bolted back up. “It’s…you know, we’re friends, and…”

She shoved a finger in my face. “No, bad Jess. Satyr. Evil. Pred.”

I knew it wasn’t an accusation, but it sure felt like one. “That’s not entirely fair. He’s not evil.”

“I’m not even going to go there, Jess. Suffice to say he’s not boyfriend material. You were asking about weird? That’s beyond weird. We’re in serious fucked-up territory.”

I grabbed her hand and pushed it out of my face. “I’m resistant to pred power. They don’t affect me. Can’t feel it. Can’t be mind-fucked or addicted. How’s that for fucked-up territory?”

Her hand fell limp in mine, and I released it. “Say what? Since when?”

“About a month ago. Long story that I haven’t wanted to plague you with, but the upshot is that I can’t sense pred magic anymore unless the pred touches me. Except Lucen’s magic, that is. And what that tells me is that I’m attracted to him for more than his magic.”

“You…” She waved her hands around like a madwoman. “You cannot drop a bombshell like this on me when I need to go back to work in twenty minutes.”

“You wanted me to tell you something interesting.”

“Jesus. I didn’t expect
that
interesting.”

We sat in silence for a moment. She stared at me, and I did my best to meet her stare with a confidence I didn’t feel.

Eventually, Steph pulled out her lighter. “Thanks to you, I need one of these before returning to work. Is the other person a satyr too?”

I coughed. “Yes.”

“And I thought
my
dating history served as a cautionary tale.” Steph stood, shaking her head. “I can’t offer you advice, my friend, because this is so far outside the realm of anything normal that I’m stumped.”

Awesome. Because when your transgendered, ex-hacker best friend who listened to obscure death metal and who paid her way through college by running a website from which she sold underwear allegedly worn by BU’s sorority girls (but was in fact bought at Wal-Mart and used to wipe the sweat off gym equipment)—when she told you you’re dating life was outside the realm of normal…

Well, that kind of said it all, didn’t it?

I followed Steph into the sunlight and walked with her toward the hospital. “So I guess you and Jim are out for double dates, huh?”

Her expression was withering. “Do not get yourself hurt.”

“I’m trying not to.”

“You’re not trying very hard, that’s all I’m saying.”

“When have I ever done things easy?” My phone rang, preventing me from hearing whatever snark was surely dancing on Steph’s tongue. “Bridget?”

“Hi, Jess. Are you busy?”

I paused on the corner. “Nothing that can’t be put off. What do you need?”

“Can you come in? We got a ton of information from Eric’s house—hard drive, papers, bank receipts, you name it. I have a plan, but I could use all the help I can get to go through this.”

“I’m on my way.”

Steph crushed her cigarette. “They got something?”

“A lot of something, just don’t ask me how it’ll be useful. Will keep you posted.”

“You do that.” She clucked her tongue at me. “You’re a Gryphon dating a satyr. Do your coworkers know this? Isn’t that like treason? You’re a double agent.”

I laughed, but coming on the heels of yesterday’s conversation with Dezzi, it struck me as too true to be funny.