Damaged Gods by K.C. Cross, J.A. Huss

CHAPTER FOURTEEN - PIE

What did he just do to me?

It wasn’t a kiss. Our lips barely touched. It was something else. He… I dunno. He gave me a breath. It’s like the way he breathed into the amulet pouch earlier today. Magic. He filled me up with something. I could feel it enter me. He’s inside me now.

For a moment I’m not sure if this is creepy or erotic. Then a familiar throbbing begins between my legs and that mystery is solved.

Wow. My life is seriously weird.

And the weirdest part isn’t that I was given a breath of magic from a satyr chimera. The weirdest part is that I’m standing in a bathroom getting ready to go on a date with a cupid so I can distract him from the fact that I now live in a cursed cemetery filled with stone monsters and my master is now a guy called Pell who has horns and hooves.

No. That’s not the weirdest part. The weirdest part is I might be OK with this.

Oh, sure. I’m putting up the good fight. I tell Pell that I’m gonna break that curse and move on.

But… is that really what I’m doing here?

I just stand there in the bathroom, looking at myself in the mirror for several minutes. Thinking about how I got to this moment in time. Because this is when I fully internalize that I might actually be insane.

Sure, I always kinda knew this. But it was a little bit cute, right? My quaint imaginary talking friend, the sparrow. It was like how some people embrace a stupid hairstyle or have a thing for ugly vintage clothes. Just a fun, quirky piece of me. Part of my character that made me unique.

But I dunno if I buy that anymore.

I let out a long breath, then turn and look at the room. It’s so pretty. I like it. I like all this stuff, actually. I might even like that sheriff. I’m even starting to turn the corner on Pell. I’m not sure how he did it, but that breath-kiss didn’t hurt his likeability score, that’s for sure.

Maybe I’m still drunk?

Maybe I’m still passed out at the college?

Maybe this is all a dream?

Snap out of it, Pie. If Pia were here, that’s what she would say. Life is a mystery and you stumbled into something special. That’s what this is. It’s special. I’m special.

And even though this line of thinking mostly starts out as an internal pep talk, I feel it. I do.

I like having Pia as my friend. And even though she’s missing now, I will find her. I have no doubts at all that I will get her back. And sure, this place is a little bit creepy, not to mention it has some borderline evil symbology—but Tomas is super nice. And he was right about Pell. He’s not that bad. If I have to be stuck in a curse, I could do a lot worse than those two.

And fuck it. If I really am crazy and this is all some kind of delusional hallucination or dream, then nothing can hurt me. So why not enjoy it?

Yeah. I’m going with this line of thinking.

I quickly finish curling my hair, take one last look at myself, and grab my purse.

The moment I walk out of the gate and take a fresh breath of lake air, my head clears, and most of my thoughts about insanity fade as I concentrate on how kinda cool this new life might be.

I conquered the sanctuary tonight. A part of me feels like it’s trying to throw every possible inconvenience at me that it can. But it’s not working. I’ve figured out that there’s always a workaround.

Take my phone, for instance. I can’t charge it at the sanctuary. But I can charge it in my car. And the twenty-minute ride to and from town is just enough. There is no internet, obviously, and I can’t make calls or send texts, either. But the point is, the phone still works. It still plays music and it still takes pictures.

And even though I shouldn’t be able to use the curling iron in the cottage, I can. Because I cut off the cord, stuck it inside the hot coal thingy that heats up the water, got it just hot enough, and boom. I had myself an old-fashioned curling iron. Then I put some coals on a plate, put the iron on the coals, took it upstairs, and that kept the iron hot enough to put some bounce in my hair in front of the mirror.

I feel like I took charge of things today. Maybe I didn’t find my place just yet, but I definitely found my footing and I’m now convinced that I won’t miss anything about modern technological conveniences. So I put aside my worries and get serious. If the sheriff is magical, I need to stay aware. Who knows how many curses there are out there? I could stumble into another one if I’m not careful.

And that’s the last thing I need.

There aren’t many places to park here in Granite Springs because it’s a tiny town and most of it is built on the side of a hilly mountain. Main Street is narrow and paved with bricks, one of those old-timey roads that are common in some parts of PA. And there is probably some kind of historic rule that you can’t disrupt said bricks for posterity reasons, so it has never been widened to accommodate cars and buses. This gives the downtown a bit of a claustrophobic feel and even though I’ve only been at the sanctuary for a few days, I find myself feeling uneasy in the presence of others.

I finally find a parking spot in back of the candle shop. And then I walk-jog down the hill to the steakhouse. It smells pretty good and my mouth is already watering when I open the door and practically smash into the hard, muscular chest of Sheriff Russ Roth.

“Oh, shit! Sorry!”

His wide grin is immediate and his eyes drink me in. “I didn’t mean to run into you, Pie. But I saw you coming and wanted to be the first thing you laid eyes on when you opened these doors.”

And… cue the cupid. My head is suddenly all flighty and butterflies flitter around in my stomach.

Pell was right. Russ makes me swoon.

Sheriff Roth takes both my hands, brings them up to his lips, and kisses each and every one of my knuckles and he gazes down into my eyes.

“Uhhh…” I’m at a loss for words. I want to pull my hands away, but he’s not giving them up and I don’t want this to become a fight. And… the longer he keeps a hold of them, the less I seem to care. “Hi!” I finally manage. My grin is so big, my cheeks are stretching.

Russ’s eyes slide down my body and this makes me tingle all over.

Fucking hell. Pell was right about the amulet too. It’s not protecting me from shit!

Then again… I’m not sure I want it to.

Focus, Pie. Remember why you’re here.

Why am I here again?

Russ’s eyes track back up to meet mine and ho-lee crap. I want him to bend me over the nearest table and fuck me from behind right now.

No. No, no, no! That is not how this ends, Pie. You cannot let the sheriff pork you tonight!

Definitely not in the plan.

“I’ve got our booth ready over here, Pie.” He says my name with that little western PA accent, which usually sounds a little too hick to be sexy, but not this time. And then he kisses my hands again before leading me into the dark dining room.

We pass a slew of other diners, most of whom greet the sheriff. He’s not wearing his uniform tonight. He’s got a crisp, white button-down shirt with a pair of tight gray slacks that hug his ass like a glove.

Mmm. Mmm. Mmm.

Shit. There’s definitely something wrong with me. I don’t think thoughts like this. I mean, I’ve had my share of dirty moments, but there is a time and a place for thoughts like that. And they usually come with copious amounts of alcohol and occur much, much later in the evening.

We’re just getting started here and I’m already starting to feel out of control.

The sheriff bows and presents me with a little three-quarter circle booth near the back of the restaurant and kinda secluded between some strategically-placed potted trees.

Privacy.

Maybe he wants to get dirty in the corner with me? I go all hot just picturing it.

No. Stop it. Pull yourself together, Pie!

“This booth is so cute.”

Russ Roth winks at me. “We call it the Lovers’ Nest booth.” Of course he does. “It’s where everyone wants to bring their first date.”

“So they can make out?” Why do I sound breathless?

Russ looks confused. “Well. Maybe. But that’s not why I brought you here.”

I slide into the booth and pat the seat next to me, looking up at him like I’m a siren calling him to the rocks. “It’s OK. I get it. Privacy is good on the first date.”

“Ye…ah.” He nods his head, starts to look concerned. “Yes. I understand what you’re thinking. But”—he places his hand over his heart—“I promise you, Miss Vita, I am a gentleman through and through. My mama would whoop my ass if I ever tried to make out with a woman in the Lover’s Nest booth.”

He slides in next to me and we are very close. Not squished, but comfortably… snug.

Wow. That’s kind of a sexy word. Snug.

Am I losing control here? And why is it so hot?

“What are you thinking about?” Russ asks. “You’ve got a look on your face I’d pay a thousand dollars to understand.”

“Oh. Sorry. I was distracted by our… snugginess.”

“Snugginess.” He laughs at the word.

OK. OK, OK, OK. Hold on, Pie. Maybe I’m reading too much into things? He’s not sending me sexy vibes here. And if he’s not sending them, then… who is? I look around, trying to find some other monster creature who might be interfering with my thought process. But no one is paying any attention to us.

“This is nice.”

Before I can ask what he’s talking about Russ’s fingertips are brushing against my collarbone just above the neckline of my dress. I was careful to cover up as much skin as possible so he didn’t get any fancy ideas about where this night was going. But there’s enough skin there to feel the warmth of his fingers against my breastbone. And then he’s pulling the lavender leather string up until my amulet appears in his hand. “Oh,” he says, momentarily looking confused. Then he seems to get embarrassed, because he blushes. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize it was something personal.”

I am quiet through all of this. Not because I don’t know what to say but because my lady bits are absolutely throbbing with… what’s the word? Mmm. Let me think. Maybe let’s just call it burning desire?

This is not going well and I’ve only been here thirty seconds.

I don’t know what else to do, so I just tuck the little pouch back inside my dress and try to get my female urges under control.

“What’s wrong?” He reaches for my face and before I can protest, or tell him I’m fine, his palm is flat against my cheek checking for fever. “Cheese and rice, Pie. You’re burning up. Are you feeling OK?”

I’m not. I’m really not. Because in my head I am picturing myself doingthings to this man. Things… so many things. Things I wouldn’t normally do unless I’ve been with a man for a long time and since I have never been in a long-term relationship, these kind of things have never happened. Not even in my dreams.

I grab the drink menu and fan myself. “I’m fine, I swear. It’s some kind of hot flash. I’ll be OK.”

Russ snaps his fingers at a passing waitress, but not in a nasty way. She stops, a look of concern on her face. “Everything OK here, Sheriff?”

“Stacy, Miss Vita here is feeling flush.” He says these words discreetly and politely. “Could you bring us a bucket of ice so I can make her up a little cold pack?”

Stacy smiles at him, then me, then him again. “Sure thing, Sheriff.” And she’s off.

“It’s really fine,” I say. “I’m sure it will pass and that ice won’t be necessary.”

“Maybe so,” Russ says. “But it can’t hurt to be prepared.” Then he shoots me another look of concern. “Are you not hungry anymore? I would completely understand if you’d just rather go home. And of course, you can’t drive yourself. I’d be happy to take you.”

Well, that won’t do. I might be in some kind of swoon-induced fever at the moment, but I still remember my goal here. So my answer is, “No, I’m starving. Really. I’m dying for a steak.”

Not exactly a lie. I do love my meat. But I can’t let him take me home again. That defeats the whole purpose of the date. Which, despite the traitorous reactions in my body, was to make him less interested, not more.

But everything about this night is wrong. I’m the one who is infatuated with him, not the other way around. He’s not looking at me like I’m a sexy piece of meat. In fact, he’s looking at me like… “You think I’m weird, don’t you?”

His smile never falters. “I like your brand of weird, Pie. I find it intriguing. I’m curious, though—”

But I don’t hear the rest, because I’m so focused on his mouth—hyper-focused, like tunnel-vision focused on his perfect lips, on the way they might feel against mine—that the next thing I know I’m kissing him.

No. That’s not what happens. That’s not even close to accurate.

I have climbed into his lap, my fingertips mussing up his thick head of hair. My eyes trained on his. Searching for the passion I know is in there. Then I’m pressing my mouth to his and squirming my lady bits against his thickening dick underneath those tight pants. I’m panting, breathing so heavy, I might pass out. And then I pull the neckline of my dress down, exposing my bra, and I place his hand there, making him squeeze me. All the while I’m writhing in his lap, sticking my tongue down his throat, then pulling back to dirty talk. “I want to suck you. I want your fingers inside me.” Squirming, and wiggling, and twisting, and quivering. Trying my very best to make myself come, right here in the—

“Pie?”

The delusion fades and I’m still sitting in the booth next to, not on top of, Mr. Sheriff here.

I blink.

He’s just about to ask me if I’m insane when Stacy the waitress appears with one of those legit cold-pack thingies you only see in cartoons. The round kind, made of plastic, and they come with a cap. “Here you go, hon. Put this up to your head.” Then she looks at the sheriff. “She can take that home, Sheriff.”

Russ takes the cold pack and places it up against my forehead. “Thank you, Stacy.”

It does help. But only the feverish part of my new… disorder.

What? No! I can’t afford to have another disorder. I’m already afflicted with hallucinations, curses, and love spells. What more can this world throw at me?

There is a bell ringing somewhere.

I look around, but we’re so secluded in the back, between these massive potted trees, that I can’t get a clear view of anything.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to take you home?”

I’m just about to answer him when that bell starts ringing again. And I don’t know why I think this, but it feels like a summoning bell. The kind of bell you ring when you need service.

“Pie?”

“Do you hear a bell ringing?” I ask him.

He pauses to listen like a reasonable person, then presses his lips together and shakes his head. “Nope. Do… you hear a bell ringing?”

I sure can. But I’m not gonna tell him that now that I know that I’m imagining it. “Can you excuse me for a moment? I have to use the restroom.”

“Sure.” Even though I can scoot out of my side of the booth, Russ gets up with me like a trained gentleman.

I smile at him. He’s really nice. And handsome. And his pants are so tight, I can see the entire outline of his dick.

I look away quickly and head towards a hallway that has a sign for the restrooms over it. I’m probably imagining his big dick. It’s probably leftover delusions from Pell.

Oh, my God, Pie. Just stop. For all you know, this whole thing is a delusion. I mean… monsters? Horned gods with hooves? These things don’t exist.

I’m just about to walk into the restroom when I spy a back door and head that way instead.

This date is over. I’m not sure what’s real and what’s not anymore and I can’t sit in there and pretend to be sane. I end up in an alley behind the restaurant and when I look to my left, there are two police cruisers. I almost panic until I remember the station is next to the restaurant.

I turn in a circle, trying to get my bearings so I can figure out where I parked. Then I head in that direction. And with every step I feel just a little bit better.

Maybe Russ really is an eros? Maybe it was him, and not me? Because by the time I make it to the front of the candle shop, I’m almost feeling normal.

It was him.

It’s not me.

I sigh out a long breath of relief and all I want to do is go home.

Home? I don’t want to think about the sanctuary, but how can I not? It’s not my home. I’m either insane and made the whole thing up, or I’m stuck in a curse.

Which one is worse?

I think I should just get in my Jeep and drive on out of here, never looking back. And if Pia is real, then she’s with me. Always. Maybe I can’t see her. But if I leave, Pia leaves. And if she doesn’t come with me, she was never real to begin with.

Yes. This is what I need to do.

I’m convinced that I need to just get in my Jeep and drive to Toledo so I can beg Jacqueline to let me stay on her couch for a few nights.

This, at the very least, is some semblance of a plan. And plans always make me feel better. So I’m breathing normally and nearly calm when I round the corner of the candle shop.

And then I stop dead.

Because leaning against my Jeep is… “Grant?”

He smiles at me. “Hi, Pie.” And he’s young again.

I shake my head. “No. This isn’t possible. I saw you leave. I saw you turn into an old man.”

He pushes off my Jeep and shoves his hands into his pockets. He’s so young. Much younger than me, I realize. His hair is blond and his body is lean and supple. No trace of the old man who got in that El Camino and drove away.

“You tricked me. And how are you young again? Pell and Tomas said you never paid your debts.”

He shrugs. “I didn’t trick you. I just didn’t fill you in. And don’t even try to tell me that you wouldn’t do the same thing if another slave walked into the sanctuary. You’d take your chance, wouldn’t you? And you know that with one hundred percent certainty even though you’ve only been there a few days.”

I can’t say he’s wrong, so I don’t.

“And here’s a tip—that debt book is bullshit. You can wash his stupid fucking feet twenty-four seven and it won’t erase your debts. It doesn’t matter. And he knows it doesn’t matter. I bet he lied to you, didn’t he? I bet he told you you had to work it off by pleasing him, didn’t he?”

I don’t say anything, but that was the answer Grant was looking for. So instead of remaining silent, I change the subject back to my question. “How are you young again?”

“Do you think I’m stupid? I spent fifty years locked up in that place. Do you really think I didn’t have an escape plan?”

“So what was it? You took the magic with you?”

“It’s not just the magic. It’s my magic. I made it. So yeah, I took it with me.”

“So the books you left behind? They’re bullshit, right?” I pull the amulet out from my dress. “This is a total waste, isn’t it?”

He laughs, then walks towards me until he’s close enough to take the amulet out of my hand. He slips the cord over my neck and opens the pouch up. Then he crinkles his nose and laughs again. “Oh, Pie. I’m sorry.”

“And how do you know my name? I never told you my name.”

He hands my useless amulet back and shrugs again. “I’m magic.” Then he taps his temple. “I know things. And I can help you. If you want out. I can get you out. I know how to break the curse, but those monsters, Pie?” He shakes his head. “They can’t get out. They were put there for a reason. And you’ve only met Pell. I’ve met them all. And I’ll tell you what, you do not want to know them. Pell is bad, but there’s worse out there in that cemetery. If they ever invite you inside, don’t go.”

“No shit, Sherlock. Do I look stupid? I’m not going inside no creepy tomb.”

“And don’t fall for Pell’s sweet talk. He’s a liar. Everything he says is a lie.”

“That might be true, but why should I trust you?”

“I wanna help you. I just said. I want to put an end to this curse. And I can’t do that as long as you’re there. I need your help to break your curse—our curse,” he amends quickly—“but not theirs. Those monsters need to stay at Saint Mark’s. Invite me in, Pie. Get me back in and I’ll make it all go away. I’ll get you out. You can be on your way. Get your life back on track.”

I don’t trust him. I don’t trust anything he just said. And it’s not even the part about inviting him in that triggers this. It’s all of it. That last bit, that’s just the dead giveaway.

I put the amulet back on “No. I don’t know who you are or what you’re doing, but I will not be a part of this.”

I reach for the door handle of the Jeep, but Grant blocks my way. “You don’t really have a choice, Pie. You’re not in charge here.”

“I don’t have a choice?” I kinda laugh at that. Because in my experience there are always choices. Sometimes you only have bad choices to choose from, so it’s easy to assume you have none. But that’s not true. You always have a choice. So I say, “What are you gonna do? Kill me, Grant? Kidnap me? Will the curse let you do that?”

But Grant isn’t really listening to me. He’s distracted by the ring on my finger. I absently play with it and realize… it’s loose. I could take it off, if I wanted to. I could hand it over. I could let Grant take this problem of mine and make it his again. But everything about that feels wrong.

He’s watching me play with the band of silver around my finger like he’s mesmerized. I take it off, hold it between my fingers, then place it in my palm and offer it to him. “Take it. You want back in so bad, take it. We can trade places again.”

He does not reach for the ring.

“What’s wrong, Grant?” I’m baiting him, I realize. My tone is condescending, my invitation not even genuine. Even if he reached for the ring, I would pull back. I would not give it over. And I don’t really understand these things right now, but I know one thing for sure. I need to go.

I slip the ring back on and reach for the door, but Grant says, “Hold on. Just wait.”

“Why? So you can lie to me some more? I don’t know what you’re up to, but I do know I don’t want anything to do with it. Or you.”

He narrows his eyes at me. “So you like it there? You want to be stuck in a curse with those evil monsters forever?”

I shrug. “I’ll figure it out.”

“You will?” He guffaws. “You? Really? After thousands of years and dozens of caretakers, you will be the one to figure it out? That’s… ambitious.”

“So? What do you care? You’re free. Go. Be free.”

“I’m offering you the same. I’m trying to break the caretaker curse, Pie. That’s my motive here. To get you out and keep them in.”

“I don’t believe you.” But that’s not entirely true. Some of what he’s saying rings true. I can tell by the tone of his voice. The part about the caretaker curse. He does want to get rid of it. And maybe he even wants to keep the monsters inside. But there’s more to it than that. I can feel this like it’s a real thing in my hand.

Grant is still smiling. It comes off very fake. “What’s not to believe?”

“You want back in, Grant. That’s weird. Especially since I offered you the ring so you could do that, and you refused.”

“I’m trying to break the curse, Pie. If I take the ring, I take the curse. And that defeats the purpose of getting out of the curse to begin with.”

“You’re talking in circles. Nothing you’re saying makes sense.”

“I’m offering you an out. What part of that doesn’t make sense?”

“You want to hurt them.”

“Oh.” He guffaws again. “Oh. I get it. You’ve already become infatuated. Let me guess… Pell has given you a breath?”

“What?”

“The breath, Pie?” He must read something in my expression because he smiles wide. “I bet he told you he didn’t do magic, either? But then he did magic, didn’t he?”

I don’t want to admit that, so I say nothing.

“Yeah. He did. Well.” Grant shrugs and puts his hands in his pockets. “It’ll wear off. And then you’ll come to your senses and want what I’m offering you.”

“What are you offering me?” I ask. “Exactly?”

He hesitates. But quickly recovers and begins speaking in a breathless rush. “I’m living a dream life, Pie. I started renting storage units on the outskirts of Pittsburgh four decades ago. I used the fake money to buy very expensive things. Watches, jewelry, art, cars. Collectibles. And then I sold it. I have made millions of dollars during my time at Saint Mark’s. And not only did I get to keep it all when you answered my ad, I got my youth back too. The Book of Debt is bullshit. I have a spell that erased my debt and every moment I spent under the influence of the curse. If you invite me back in, I will give you that spell. You can stay, use the fake money to build your own fresh start, then leave when you’re ready. I will catch you another caretaker.”

Wow. I scoff at him. Because greed, right? It’s sadly… predictable. Everything he just said goes back to greed. His amateur offer is a joke. “I’m not even remotely interested in using magic to find success. It kind of defeats the whole point of success, in my opinion. And I don’t need you to catch me another caretaker, Grant. I already know where one is.”

“What?” His word comes out sharp and fast.

“I’m not letting you in. You’re… I don’t know. Wrong, somehow. I don’t want anything to do with you or your fake plan.” I pull out my phone, press nine and one. “Now get out of my way or I will press that last digit and Eileen will answer, and I will tell her to send Sheriff Roth over to the candle shop parking lot. And then I will tell him you tried to attack me. And he will believe me, Grant. Because you’re a sketchy-looking dude. I’m sure this town already knows there’s something wrong with you. I bet you Sheriff Russ Roth would be more than happy to lock you up if I tell him what you did.”

“You’re a sneaky little liar, you know that? I’m just trying to help you.”

I shake my head. “No. I’m not lying. I’m just jumping the gun a little. Because if I hang around you for much longer, I’m one hundred percent certain you will attack me. Now get out of my way.”

“You’re making a big mistake. I’m telling the truth. And you’re gonna figure that out quick. But hey.” He throws up his hands, palms out, like he’s surrendering. He steps aside. “You’re not even real. You’re just a crazy girl with an imaginary bird for a best friend, so you’re probably doing the whole world a favor by locking yourself in the loony bin with the monsters.” Then he tips his imaginary hat to me and walks off.

I get in my Jeep and drive out of town towards the sanctuary.

I spend most of the drive trying not to think about what just happened, but it’s inevitable.

He’s stupid. I’m not real? That’s insanity. I’m the only thing that is real. He’s not real. None of this curse stuff is real. In fact, nothing after I woke up from the Halloween party is real. It’s all a bad dream or… or…

Shit. I missed the turnoff into the forest where the road to the back entrance is. But instead of turning around, I stop outside the front gate of Saint Mark’s and just look at it.

The moon is sizable enough. Don’t know if it’s growing or shrinking, but it’s bright enough that I can see the building pretty clearly. From out here, it doesn’t look like a cathedral. Not the way it does in the back.

It’s all an illusion. And if I could just find a way to peel back the pretty paper over those imaginary walls, I’d see what’s hiding underneath.

But I won’t do that, will I?

I like the delusion, don’t I?

That’s why I keep Pia around, isn’t it?

I flip a bitch, find the road into the forest, and then slowly make my way back to the lake and the gate, and the unreal life I’m living here at Saint Mark’s.

I don’t know what just happened back in town. I don’t think I want to know what just happened back in town. I don’t even want to know what’s happening out here.

Something is wrong with Grant. That’s why he wants back in.

Something is wrong with Tomas. That’s why he’s missing.

And something is wrong with Pell too. Fucking pleasure book or whatever.

It’s all nuts.

I’m nuts.

This is the thought that lingers in my head.

Me. This isn’t about them. They’re the ones who aren’t real.

This is about me and I’m insane.

Just like they all said when I was little.

Only now, I can’t control it. My delusions have taken over my reality. That little hallucination with the sheriff tonight? That’s proof.

He’s not some weird love monster! I’m. In. Sane.

I turn the Jeep off and notice there’s a light on in my cottage. I get out and just stand there in the parking lot for a moment, looking up at the bedroom window. Picturing myself up there with Pia that first day. Looking down here, where I’m standing now, and watching Old Man Grant get in his car, practically giddy with excitement.

And I guess he won, didn’t he?

He got rich, didn’t pay off any debts, didn’t grow old, and he took his magic with him. That’s quite an accomplishment. And I could do the same. All I have to do is invite him in.

“Ha!” I laugh out loud. “It’s all fake. The whole thing is fake. And how pathetic am I? That I have to make up a cupid to find myself a love interest and a prison guard with a giant cock!” This time, when the laugh bursts out, I really start to feel crazy. I cover my mouth to stifle leftover giggles, push through the gate, walk around to the front of the cottage, open the door, and go inside.

And there is Pell. Sleeping on my little couch. His giant dick just lying there in wait like a lion in tall grass on the savannah.

I sigh as I look at him. He’s a very nice delusion, actually. Sexy monsters are… well. Sexy. He’s far, far too big for that particular piece of furniture, so only his upper body is actually on the cushions. From the hip down, he’s dangling over the side of the armrest.

He’s sleeping. Soundly, apparently. Since me walking in didn’t wake him. His arms are crossed over his muscular chest and his head is propped up on a pillow. I study his horns. They are a deep chestnut brown with flicks of orange heat inside them. This heat glows and pulses, like there’s a whole furnace of fire inside his body. The horns are interesting, I think. They do not go above his head like the mythological creatures in books. They kinda drape down over his shoulders, pressing against either side of the soft cushion that elevates his head. They are not the horns of a goat, or a bull, or a ram. Not a gazelle, either. Some other animal. His chest is almost hairless. In fact, his entire upper body is almost hairless. Even his head, which is only covered in a velvet of light stubble, just like his jaw.

I plop down into an overstuffed chair and clear my throat.

He awakens slowly, like he was somewhere else, his eyelashes fluttering a little. They’re also blond, like his chin and head scruff. Then he draws in a deep breath as he opens his yellow-orange eyes and smiles at me.

“You’re home.” His voice is husky with leftover sleep. “How’d it go?”

I don’t know what to say because there is only one way to describe what just happened to me. “It was a total disaster.”

“What?” He sits up, his fucking package shifting around like a living thing. And that just reminds me of what happened back there in town with Russ.

Did it happen? Didn’t it happen?

“At first,” I say, my words very soft—so soft, Pell leans forward, like he’s trying to hear me better—“at first I thought I was delusional. I made the whole thing up.” A tear slides down my cheek.

“Pie?” Pell is confused. “What the fuck happened?”

I just shake my head.

“Did he hurt you?”

I can only shrug.

“What does that mean? He hurt you?”

“I don’t know.” My voice cracks. And I’m not sure what that is. Fear? Shame? I don’t know.

Pell gets up, and with one stride, he’s kneeling in front of me. “Why are you crying?”

I sniff and wipe a tear off my cheek. And then I whisper, “I don’t know.”

“What did he do?”

“I don’t know.”

“How could you not know?” His voice is loud.

So I get defensive. “I don’t know what’s real. I don’t know if I really did those things in the restaurant. Did I climb in his lap? Did I pull my dress down and place his hand on me? Did I squirm like an animal? I don’t know what’s real anymore. I don’t think any of this is real. I think you’re fake. Or a hallucination, like Pia was. I think I’m dead. I think I died that night. On Halloween. I think I woke up a ghost and that’s why that nun called me a whore of Babylon.”

His eyes search mine, fast and hasty. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I’m insane, Pell. I’m fucking crazy. I’ve always been crazy. And this place…” I cry harder. I can’t stop it. “This place is purgatory. It’s punishment. Or I’m living in my mind. I’m in some coma somewhere, making this all up. Pretending to be real. But I’m not.”

He sighs, and that’s when I realize he’s got a hold of my hand. His grip is tight. Not tight enough to crush my bones, but tight enough for me to know he’s there. He’s real.

I pull the amulet up out of my dress and then over my head. I drop it onto his knee, which is covered in shaggy, straw-colored fur. “It’s all fake. Grant told me. He took the real books with him. He made money out in the real world—”

“OK, stop.” Pell breathes heavy for a moment. “Hold the fuck up. What did you just say?”

“I saw Grant. I had some kind of hallucination inside the restaurant—or maybe I really did climb into the sheriff’s lap and grind on him—but either way, I ran out the back door and went back to my Jeep and Grant was there. Waiting for me. And he told me this is all bullshit.” I point to the amulet. “All the books he left behind were bullshit. So I probably did climb in Russ’s lap and stick my tongue down his throat. Because this amulet didn’t fucking protect me!”

I throw it across the room.

Pell places his hands on my shoulders and my body immediately heats up, the same way it did in the restaurant. Like he’s filling me up with magic too. “What else did he say?”

Or maybe he’s filling me up with insanity. Ha. I’ve already got plenty of that.

“Pie!” he growls. “What else did Grant say?”

“Don’t you get it? It doesn’t matter. None of this is real!”

He sneers at me. That’s the Pell I know. The sneering, snide, predator Pell. “Don’t be fucking crazy. I’m real. You’re real. This place is real.”

“I’m so far past crazy, Pell, it’s a done deal, OK? And now I would like to wallow in my insanity for while. So could you just please leave?”

He stands up and I think to myself, Finally. Somebody gives a shit about what I want.

But he doesn’t leave.

He grabs my keys from my hand, picks me up and flips me over his shoulder, carries me outside, through the gate, into the parking lot, and then plops me down in the Jeep’s passenger seat.

“What the hell are you doing?”

He slams my door, walks around to the driver’s side, gets in, and starts the engine. His eyes blaze yellow-orange when he looks at me. “You’re not insane, Pie Vita. And I’m gonna prove it to you.”