Codespell by Kelly McCullough

Author:Kelly McCullough
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub, pdf
Publisher: Penguin Group USA, Inc.
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TEN

“Very good,” said Haemun, after I let the pistol fall. I realized his voice had changed, too, developing an improbable British accent. “Step away from the closet and the gun now.”

I held out both hands in front of me. “Come on, Haemun. ”

“Don’t call me that,” he said. “My name is Nous, Rham Nous.”

“Rhamnous?” said Melchior, sounding incredulous. “You’re kidding, right?”

The gun flicked to point at Melchior. “No, I’m not.”

“Why is that odd?” I asked.

“Rhamnous is where the sanctuary of Nemesis used to be, near Marathon,” said Melchior.

“Really?” I asked the satyr. “Are you named after the city? Or is it named after you?” Always a possibility when dealing with immortals and demi-immortals. “Or something else entirely?”

“I . . . I . . .” Rham Nous or Rhamnous, or however you wanted to say it, put his free hand to his forehead as though it pained him. “I don’t know,” he said finally. “You’re confusing me.”

“Asking you how you got your name is confusing?” I said. “That’s a little bit odd, don’t you think?”

“I . . . Shut up. Go sit on the bed and shut up. Take your damned pet with you.”

I scooped up Melchior and moved toward the bed. As I did so, Melchior pursed his lips, subtly asking if I wanted him to whistle up a spell. I very gently shook my head. Something deeply odd was going on here. I wanted to know more about it before I committed to anything drastic.

“So, how long have you worked for Nemesis?” I asked as I sat down with my back against the velvet-padded headboard.

There was a long silence, and the satyr rubbed his forehead again. I waited quietly.

“Why do you keep asking questions I can’t answer?”

“Just trying to make conversation,” I said. “It might be a while before Nemesis gets back, and it’ll help pass the time. Is there something else you’d rather talk about? You don’t seem to have a real good handle on your own personal hows and whys.”

“I do, too. I’m Nous, Rham Nous.”

“You did that bit already,” said Melchior. “What else have you got?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” said the satyr. “I’m just doing my, doing my, doing my. Job.”

“All right,” I said. “Let’s talk about that. What is your job? Who do you work for? That kind of thing.”

“I . . . uh . . . I’m the spirit of . . .” He stopped and wiped his forearm across his face, lowering the gun in his other hand.

Melchior raised an eyebrow in question, and again I shook my head.

“What are you the spirit of?” I asked.

“Of . . . of . . . of this place!” he blurted, sounding momentarily triumphant, but his accent was slipping.

“And what is this place?” I asked.

“Nemesis Hou—” He shook his head. “House Nemes—”

“Raven House,” I said.

“Yes—no! I don’t . . .” He dropped the gun and put both hands to the sides of his head. “I feel really strange.”

“He sounds like Haemun, now,” said Melchior.

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