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"I didn't see anyone chained to your bed when I borrowed your iPod, so I'm guessing single chick wasn't a nymph." Calix flopped into the lounge chair next to Jacen and grabbed the television remote. He didn't wait for verification before he started flipping channels. "Which also means she is fair game."
Likewise, Jacen didn't look up from the newspaper he'd only partially read. He'd watched out the window earlier as London left for dinner, and had been attempting to keep his mind off her and out of the gutter for the past hour. Something his curse didn't give him the luxury of accomplishing; sex was all he thought about. Ever.
"She's not a nymph, no. But hands off."
Calix paused in his channel surfing and stared at him. "Hands off? Moi? I thought we shared around here, brother."
Although they weren't related, they'd been together so long it felt like they were. Even Vander seemed more like an elder sibling than a boss or their former king's heir. The four of them had attempted living apart at one point, but they found each other again when the New World was still "new" to European settlers. Deciding immortality seemed less lonely with companions, they'd been together ever since.
"I am not sharing this one. I only have two days with her, and then you know what happens. That said, you may need to cover my shift Sunday." He had front desk duty, but that wouldn't work so well if he was in bed with London.
"Do I look like I have nothing to do but cover for you?" Calix paused and then said, "You know, we'd get more single people checking in if we didn't have to make them think they were dreaming the wild satyr sex. Frankly, walking past a room and hearing honeymooning couples humping like rabbits does nothing to improve my situation. It sucks. Why did Apollo have to hide all the nymphs? Damn gods."
"Done whining, Callie?"
"Stop calling me Callie."
"Then stop whining like a little girl."
Calix growled and switched the TV off. "I'm heading below. Sun sets in about ten minutes anyway."
"Put the iPod back where you found it before you go sulking in your room," Jacen called after him and glanced out the window at the darkening sky. He tossed the newspaper on the coffee table and rubbed his face with both hands. As much as he wished London had been a nymph, he was glad he didn't have to burden her with his curse. She could pretend he was only a weekend fling, and later a wonderful dream she'd had. Jacen hated that London wouldn't remember he was real, and being forgotten had never bothered him in the past. But for some reason, it bothered him this time.
***
London woke up how she had fallen into her bed: one shoe on, the other across the room. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and grimaced at the warm hint of drool. It was a quarter after eleven on a Friday night, and after one really strong drink, she'd passed out. Such a lightweight.
She rolled out of bed, eventually stumbling to the bathroom where she brushed her teeth while waiting for the hot water to heat up in the shower. Then, as she washed her hair, she thought about how the night had gone. After she'd eaten dinner, she'd gotten a drink and listened to a band play classic rock song covers in City Market. She eventually worked up the nerve to stagger back to the inn and hunt for Jacen. He said he was working, but his shift had to end sometime, right? Dear God, that man is hot.
Beatrice was still there, apparently working a double, and had been pleasant until London asked for Jacen.
Apparently, he was out picking up supplies.
At nearly ten o'clock at night. A likely story. Beatrice was a twat-blocker.
It was after midnight when London crawled into bed wearing a red cami and black and white polka dotted pajama shorts. Her hair was damp from the shower, but she didn't feel like drying it. She tried to read for a bit, but London was too restless to sit still. Just when she was about to give up and attempt going back to sleep, she heard it.
Music. It sounded like it came from a flute of some kind, like the people on the TV show had talked about. It was so soft at first that she'd thought it was her imagination playing a trick on her, and then the volume began to build.
London rolled out of bed and tiptoed to the door. As quietly as she could, she unlocked the deadbolt and opened the door a crack. The hall was awash in shadows, with only dimly lit wall sconces to enable returning guests to see where they were going in the dark. There was definitely music coming from downstairs. It didn't sound like a television or a radio, and somehow London didn't picture Beatrice as the instrument playing type.
Grabbing her cell phone to have a camera nearby in case anything weird happened, she kept the door unlocked and sneaked down the hall. When she reached the top of the landing, the bright light below made her squint. The stairs had been creaky earlier, so she took caution to avoid alerting anyone of her presence and tiptoed as quietly as she could manage. At least she was sobering up.
By the fifth step, she could see Beatrice typing away at her computer. The music continued to play, but the blonde didn't even seem to hear it, or if she did, she paid it no mind. London took another step down.
Creeeeeeeeeak.
She moved into the shadow of the wall beside her as Beatrice glanced up at the sound. Silence, apart from the music, answered her from below. When she heard a chair rolling across the wood floors and the sharp clack, clack of high heels, London's breath caught in her throat. She was good and caught.
This is silly. Why am I afraid of being caught out of bed in a hotel? London peeked around the corner. Beatrice sauntered past the staircase and down the hallway toward the doors marked STAFF ONLY. She had taken down her hair and was running her hands through it, giving it a tousled look. London let herself breath normally again and somehow avoided any more creaky steps as she made her way to the bottom.
The volume of the music increased when Beatrice opened the door to the employee area. Was it all a hoax the owners of the place set in motion for word of mouth exposure? Jacen said they didn't do a lot of advertising, and if they didn't it was a wonder they could afford to remain open and still have steady customers. People did get a thrill of staying at haunted hotels. Hell, that was the whole reason behind London being there. Could they be using the haunted aspect and the demonic shadow and mysterious flute playing for free publicity?
She transferred her phone to her left hand and slowly turned the knob for the employee door with her right. It wasn't locked, and no one waited on the other side of it to shout at her for sneaking about, so London ducked inside. A bathroom was located on one side of a sitting room containing chairs and a coffee table. Someone had been reading a newspaper in the chair next to the window earlier. On the other side of the room she could see a decent sized kitchen with a dining area through the open doorway.
But where the hell did Beatrice go? The bathroom was empty, and London was the only one standing in the sitting room. She tiptoed to the kitchen doorway and peered in. Ah, ha. Another door.
As she inched closer to the door, the music became more defined. It seemed to pulse through her, like the song was more than a song—an invitation. Her skin prickled with awareness, and she suddenly wanted to run back to her room and lock the door, convinced discovering the source would change her life forever. Yet she had stopped everything to investigate this place. There would be no turning back until she had answers. She told herself the worst that could happen would be Beatrice or another staff member catching her and telling her off, so she opened the door.
Another stairwell greeted her, but unlike before, no lights illuminated the bottom. It was the entrance to the first floor of the building. What was down there? Stockrooms? The entrance to the mysterious tunnels beneath the city? An in-house flute player? The hairs on her arms stood on end as the tune of the song changed slightly. Maybe it was her imagination, but the music seemed like it was telling her to strip naked. What the fuck was in my drink? London shrugged it off and used her phone as a flashlight while she crept down to the dark corridor below.
There were four doors, two on each side. Three of them were closed; the other was cracked. A sliver of soft light poured through the gap, leaving a single beam across the floor. A line she could cross at her own risk of being caught. One that crossing could answer all of her questions about the B&B she'd never heard of but had been there in front of her for eight years. London took care with each step, her bare feet soundless across the cold floor as she approached. The music was coming from behind the first closed door she passed, and she halted, hand outraised toward the doorknob when she heard a voice.
Beatrice was speaking to someone, but London couldn't make out the words. She abandoned the door containing the source of the music and moved closer to the next. She peeked through the opening. There was Beatrice, unbuttoning the top buttons of her blouse while perched on the end of a bed. "Come on, Calix. You can't reject me now. Not when I know how much you appreciate my...assets."
London reigned in her impulse to snort.
A man with long blond hair, presumably Calix, stepped into view, wearing nothing but a pair of silky boxer shorts. But that wasn't what drew her attention. He had horns bulging out of the sides of his head, like the shadow on the TV show. And his feet... He didn't have human feet. They're hooves! Cloven, devil-monster hooves.
It couldn't be real. Cosplay was in, right? Maybe she was witnessing weird kink that had nothing to do with the paranormal at all. Or maybe he was gearing up to further along the hoax they were using for publicity and Beatrice was in on it...which she apparently found sexy.
But what if it was real? What Calix was a deep, dark secret monster Jacen and his brothers hid beneath The Aegean Inn. Could that be why they didn't go out of their way to advertise?
London had always wondered what would happen if she found herself in a horror movie situation. Would she be the cool, calm chick who made it to the end, or would she be the dumbass killed in the opening scenes? Fate made the judgment when her cell phone started to ring.
Oh, shit. Oh, fuck. Oh, fucking shit!
The mutated demon-man turned toward the door, frowning while he scratched his head beside the base of a horn. London franticly attempted to mute the noise as she backed away, she didn't recognize the area code of the caller. Of all times to get a wrong number! She started to run, but it was too late. Two of the other doors opened. Belatedly, she noticed the music that had led her downstairs was silent, but that door remained shut. However, a naked man with shortish black hair and matching demon horns gawked at her, and then he smirked as his eyes perused her body.
"Hey," he said with a sly grin. She tried not to notice how attractive he was even though he was obviously the same kind of demon as Calix. In fact, she tried to look anywhere but at him because she couldn't stop noticing his very aroused penis, and since he was facing her, she wasn't sure she approved of where it was aimed.
The man who'd opened the other door wore a bathrobe, but like Calix and the black-haired man, he too was obviously a demon. The Aegean Inn was a Hellmouth. She was going to die.
Calix approached the crowd in the hallway, crossing his arms over his chest as he took in the situation. "If you wanted to join in, you only had to ask," he said it so casually, like naked hoofed men collected in B&Bs all the time. His accent was faint, barely perceptible like Jacen's, but she didn't want to make that connection. She couldn't connect those dots to the one person not in the hallway. The one door still closed.
The man in the robe frowned at Calix. "Join in with what?" Robe Man shoved past Calix and disappeared into his room. "Beatrice! Do you ever actually work? Don't make me fire you."
"I can't help it. When your music plays at night, I think about what you could be doing to me," the woman responded from within.
"We will have to wipe her soon, won't we?" Calix whispered to Robe Man as he returned to the hallway.
Robe Man nodded once in response.
"Wipe her? Like wipe her out? You're gonna kill her?" London stumbled backward, seeking escape. Naked Man caught her by the shoulders and prevented it. Oh God, its penis is on my hip. It is touching my hip. Demon penis! Demon penis on my hip! She pulled herself out of his grip and left a wide berth.
"No one's killing anyone. How'd you get down here anyway?" Naked Man asked, unbothered by her hasty retreat.
"Nobody locks doors, that's how. Also, no employees in the lobby to prevent me." She made eye contact with Robe Man as he cursed and glared back in the room at Beatrice, who had not joined them. London had the feeling Robe Man was their leader. "What are you? Demons?"
"Only in bed, love," Calix chimed in and approached her before Robe Man could answer. He sandwiched London between him and Naked Man. "So why did you come down here? It's very rude to spy on satyrs."
Satyrs? Like the painting above her bed? She trembled when she felt Naked Man's hand rest on her waist, and then Calix leaned in closer. Everything she'd learned about satyrs in school made the situation much more dire. They were symbols of unrestrained sexuality.
"Satyrs aren't real. They're myths."
"Well then, I guess it's time you learned some myths hold a grain of truth," a new voice chimed in. One she recognized. With a lump in her throat, London turned. Jacen leaned against the doorway of the fourth door, the one closest to the stairs. The one where the music had originated from. He wore a bathrobe printed with The Aegean Inn emblem on it like Robe Man did. Like the others, he was also a...satyr. "Come inside," Jacen gestured to his room. "We need to have a chat."
For some inexplicable reason, London trusted him despite the fact he was like the others. She found herself rushing toward him, surprised when the two pressing against her backed off with no fuss. Still, she glanced at the stairs, debating her chances.
"I'd catch you before you reached the door."
Unsure what would happen next, London took a deep breath and entered Jacen's bedroom. She heard him talking to the other three, but only caught bits and pieces. Had he called one of them a prince? London stared dumbly at his ornate bed with the sheets pulled back. Waiting for someone to join him in it. She shivered and found herself thinking about how Beatrice seemed to have no issue with Calix being a satyr. In fact, she had been propositioning him when London was caught spying.
What would it be like to have sex with a satyr straight out of the myths? To have all that lust focused on her, a mere mortal? London felt flustered at the very thought.
Behind her, Jacen closed the door with a resounding click.