Chapter Four
Esmeray
I’m dead.
Am I in hell? Heaven? Valhalla? I took a deep breath, which, ideologically or physically, shouldn’t have been possible.
Rich incense. Herbs. Both of those were nice. It eliminated hell, at least. Hell probably smelled like a MLM essential oil party to a soul. I didn’t know if I had a soul or not. Valhalla?
Not enough alcohol. Mead and sour beer had a specific scent. The scent under the herbs had a distinct scent of basil and oregano, backed with dry aged cheeses.
I reached to my neck, fingers tracing the wound I knew would be there. Valhalla it is.
“Sleep well?” the warm tones of a familiar voice spoke out.
“Odin?” I opened a single eye to spy the dark interior of a bedroom and the shifting shape of Gre Hawthorne, reverting from his giraffine form to the pleasant humanoid form I’d had dinner with.
“Not a chance. I still owe that particular deity the souls of five hanged men.”
“Not nine?” I blinked up at him, my heart fluttering as I sat up. The same attraction I had to him on our first meeting hadn’t faded, only intensified.
“Already gave him four.” He waved his hand dismissively. “But hangings are so uncommon these days and it’s hard to find a guilty one, but I have the rest of my life to find someone lynched for good cause… Maybe someone who embezzled charity money or something.” I shrugged.
“Locally sourced, all natural hanged men, I take it?” I winked, and the mage’s soft laugh made me smile.
“If I hang them, I can’t call them organic, can I?” The smile he held faded.
“I died, didn’t I?”
He nodded. “But you got better.”
“Can one really get better after death?” I rubbed at my neck, stitches pricking my fingers.
“No. Not unless extensive magic, necromancy, goetic thaumaturgy, and sacrifice is involved.” He leaned forward, staring at me with eyes with dark circles and jaw tensed as if he were fighting a yawn.
“Explain?” A hazy memory about a union, a whispered desperate plea for me to choose mundanity, death, or him. Of course I’d chosen the mage.
“You were attacked outside of your apartment, carrying my files. Whoever it was, used a holy sigil as a garrote. Your father, under the impression it meant I had something to do with your demise, demanded I fix it.” He cleared his throat and avoided making eye contact, depriving me of those beautiful golden amber eyes.
As memories came to me, my father’s sage voice, Ausmius’s whispered promises and threats against the clergy that assailed me. Gre’s beautiful voice had called me back from the limbo I stood in.
I lifted my shirt where there should have been sigils, a circle of magic I could discern.
Instead, I found dark, permanent markings of two goddesses that, ordinarily, would have never marked a demon.
A crescent moon and an Egyptian cat. Diana and Bastet.
In utter disbelief, I touched them. “A soul bond?”
“Worse. It’s an eternal bond.” His lips twisted in a half smile, eyes sad.
“My father is going to kill me… And you. Both of us. We need to leave this plane. Like, now.” My heart raced as I pushed the covers away and scrambled to the edge of the bed, losing my footing as my wrist slipped into the mattress…which I suddenly realized was two twin mattresses pushed together.
Vertically.
Gre reached out and grabbed my upper arms, stilling me. “There’s a phone on the nightstand. I’ve called him twice already. He sort of demanded I do the rite. I gave you a choice. I’ve never seen a demon hope like that before.”
I stilled. “He what?”
Gre explained, starting from him being taken to the station, the magic he wrought, the sacrifice, and the choice he made.
“Alright.” I took a deep breath. “One question before I call my father.”
He stared at me openly, lips parted. “You’ve been out for about ten hours.”
“Okay, good to know. We’ve got thirty-eight hours to knock boots.” My shadow rose up against a wall and made some very pointed gestures and hip thrusts, grinning maniacally. Strangely, though, Gre’s shadow, while composed and in place, offered Ausmius a high five. “Two questions…”
“Anything.” Gre released my arms and placed a hand on my thigh.
“First. Why do you have two twin beds toe to toe?”
He pointed at his head. “Giraffe.”
“You know, I feel silly for asking.” I glanced at our shadows once more only to find Ausmius molesting Gre’s giraffe-headed shadow. Gre wasn’t even in his shifted form. “Okay, three questions. Are our shadows both doing daeva shit?”
“Part and parcel of our union. Ausmius means well, I assume.” Gre shrugged.
“Well, fuck.” I took a deep breath. “Last question. Bathroom?”
He nodded once and gestured toward a door at the other end of the room, where a peaceful soft yellow light glowed.
I stood and made my way toward the door and cringed when my stomach growled, my shadow streaking up a wall and mocking it with a toothy snarl.
“How do you feel about Italian?” Gre offered me a hopeful smile.
“Probably my favorite food in the entirety of this plane.” I smiled. “You can never go wrong with pasta or garlic.”
“Well then, at least we’ll be fantastic roommates.”
I dodged my way into the bathroom and took care of business. “Mind if I take a shower?”
“Towels are in the standing cupboard.” I glanced around and found a cabinet with several drawers standing tall.
I opened sticky-painted doors to find an odd assortment of towels, most of which were of a softness only gained by time and use, ends tattier than a wind-whipped flag. I pulled a rag and towel free.
“Pleasant damnations,” I said with a smile and stripped from too-big pajamas to hop into a claw-footed tub with a sad plastic curtain that had traces of magic from many cleaning spells.
I approved of the use of magic before turning the tub water on and adjusting the temperature to my liking.
I pulled a knob, and the shower jumped, giving just enough warning for me to dodge the first wave of ice-cold water.
I kept it quick, scrubbing myself from head to toe with a bar of soap in an unnaturally green shade. I made use of his shampoo and conditioner before calling it good and rinsing down. I ran a perfunctory clawed hand through my hair to keep most of the tangles at bay.
By the time I got out of the shower and strode out, a worn towel wrapped neatly around my waist, Gre was gone and the scent of garlic, tomatoes, and Parmesan wafted from up a set of stairs.
I followed the scent, feet bare, treading on soft and cared-for wood floors, the gentle creak of them reassuring. “Gre?”
The poltergeist swept around the room, a vapor of basil-scented miasma following his every move. “I hope you enjoy minestrone. It is good for healing.”
I rested a hand on my stomach and nodded as my shadow spread about noisily, slipping between cracks and crannies, nooks too. I was so hungry I ached. “Pasta.”
“I added roast chicken to it to make it heartier. It’s not traditional, but Mister Gre assures me protein will aid your recovery.
” The ghost smiled at me in a wispy, morose sort of way before lifting a ladle and inviting Gre over to taste.
And he did, leaning in for a sniff and sip.
After, the ladle floated to the sink and plopped into soapy water.
At least I won’t be an omega expected to do dishes and cook all day. I nodded in thanks and took a seat at the table, my legs weak beneath me. “Food. Praise the pit.”
Gre smiled when I spoke, the corner of his lips upturned.
I adored the way his eyes sparkled, full of mischief and order in chaos.
Mages could be such unorganized slobs, but Gre pleased me.
Gre also pleased me physically. The fresh crease of starched linen of his shirt stood out, a pristine eggplant that didn’t quite complement his pallor, but competed with it.
Still, it was neat and tidy. “Please, eat and be well.”
I startled when a bowl clicked down before me. “Oh, yes.”
I ate as if I’d been starved, which I likely had been. It felt like I was a bottomless pit, every bite I took going nowhere, settling into a void that begged for more. “Thank you.”
“No problem. We have matters to discuss—” Gre started, but I held up a hand as I tied into my second bowl. The poltergeist… I wracked my brain for his name. V-something. Vinny? No, too stereotypical. Vincenzo! Vincenzo gave me a wise grin.
“We have—thirty-seven hours, and I’m sure we can have a creative solution for what needs must.”
Gre offered me a smile with no shame or blush in it.
Our shadows pantomimed dry humping one another with a stretch along a wall that caught even Vincenzo’s attention.
The poltergeist must have seen a lot under his work with Mage Hawthorne because he barely gave it a second glance.
Still, Gre maintained composure. “That can be handled in time, at your own comfort, but my concern lies mainly in visiting your father.”
“Oh.” I took another bite.
“That isn’t a problem for you, is it, Esmeray?” The way he said my name, like a kiss on my lips, made my heart stutter and Ausmius pantomime holding his chest and falling over on the wall. Jerk.
“I need to call him, first. But I imagine we need to take care of that looming clock.” He sighed.
“I can wait.” Gre shrugged, eyes drifting down my body, taking me in with hooded eyes.
I didn’t know if the attraction we shared was due to our bond or our attraction.
I had been interested before. I’d contemplated him briefly since our meeting, but had been so busy with the coven’s lawsuit that I hadn’t even had time to take things to my own hand.
Ausmius made an up-and-down fisting gesture nearby that I blatantly ignored.
“That is a good point, Ausmius. We can both please ourselves separately and imbibe a drop.” Gre didn’t seem bothered by the gesture. “If it doesn’t work, we still have a day and a half to go.”
“What’s wrong with going all the way?” I glanced up from my soup and earned a raised brow.