Arcane Circle

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The idea of this government task force ruled my thoughts as Johnny drove us to town. One of their agents using the derogatory word “nonsters” signaled a lack of good intentions. They’d even coined a new word for offenses: xenocrime.

“As in crimes committed by those members of society deemed … strange,” Agent Brent had said. They were drawing the lines. Since SSTIX fell under DHS jurisdiction— under Homeland Security; Goddess, it sounds so possessive— this could turn into a firestorm.

Fire.

I didn’t pack a lighter for the candles. The thought hit me as we arrived at the edge of town. “Will anyone have a lighter at this meeting?”

“I don’t know,” Johnny answered.

“Make a stop at the drugstore up here, will you? I didn’t pack one.” Doing rituals away from home was new for me.

Maxine led me into the drugstore, and we walked briskly to the far side of the building where the candle section was located. After I selected a butane candle lighter, we headed to the register. On the way, I caught sight of the endcap display of Hallowe’en items, marked seventy-five percent off. I stared at a frog costume and a pair of fake cow’s horns.

Johnny suggested I wear a disguise to Beverley’s party …

While these wouldn’t work, maybe there was something here that would. I crept down the aisle where the Hallowe’en items and candy had been gathered.

A man stepped into the aisle next to me, and the urge to hide overwhelmed me. The guy’s aura exuded hostility. I kept my focus on the items before me while mentally reinforcing my own aural shielding. Then, from the corner of my eye, I checked him out. He was staring down the aisle—right at me.

Maxine pushed past him. “There you are.”

Her arrival caused the man’s attention to shift onto the sale items and that gave me an opportunity to make a quick assessment of him. I decided that this guy had no real business here. Though he scrutinized the cheesy plastic vampire teeth and ladies’ fake fingernails with spiders on the tips, his fancy suit, gold watch, and alligator shoes made me certain he wasn’t buying either item.

“What are you looking for?” Maxine asked.

“Just checking out the sale,” I murmured. Rotating on my heels, I checked the items on the opposite side of the aisle. The brief spin allowed me a second hasty appraisal of him. As tall as Johnny, with a military high-and-tight haircut, this man’s shoulders made Agent Brent’s broad frame seem comparatively narrow. The slight bump under his jacket—similar to the one Zhan had from her shoulder holster—told me the most.

Another special agent. Following me. And not very sly about it.

Maxine caught my evaluation of the man and made one of her own. She must’ve noted the gun under his jacket as well; she moved herself directly between us.

Hoping he would leave, I studied the discounted Hallowe’en items. Just as I picked up a blond wig, Maxine said in a clipped voice, “We’re going to be late.” She pointed down the aisle, away from the man. Maxine kept herself expertly between us as I carried the wig and lighter to the register. Remembering my thought about calling myself Mae West and Maxine lighting my hair on fire, I smiled to myself.

While Maxine and I were in line, Mr. Alligator Shoes left the store.

After paying, I exited and hurried to the Audi. Maxine practically pushed me into the backseat, but remained outside scanning the other parked cars.

Johnny twisted in his seat. “This thing has a built-in massage-and-ventilation mechanism!” His glee faded. “What’s wrong?”

“Did you see the guy in the fancy suit leave?” I asked.

Johnny said, “No. Why?”

“I think a special agent may be following us.”

Johnny’s bright mood darkened. “Are you certain?”

“Yeah. He was fairly obvious.”

“What makes you think he was a G-man?”

“Gun bulge under his coat.”

Maxine opened the door and got into the passenger seat. “Nothing,” she said, “but let’s get out of here.”

Johnny had us on the road in seconds. I kept watch out the back. He took an alternate route, cutting down side streets before returning to the main roads. “See anything?”

“No, but he may be more adept at road surveillance.”

“Or,” Maxine added, “he may have done everything he wanted to do.”

“What do you mean?” I asked. “He didn’t touch me or anything.”

“Yeah, but he smelled wolfy to me, and he got close enough to scent you.”

I met Johnny’s eyes in the rearview mirror. The last thing either of us wanted was to think that SSTIX had nonsters on the payroll.

Fifteen minutes later, we headed east on Abbey Avenue and turned onto West Fourteenth. When Johnny turned again, I had to admit, I was surprised by where this forced-change spell was going to take place. “The Cleveland Cold Storage building?”

“Yup.”

Long abandoned, or so I thought, and subject to disputes—the Ohio Department of Transportation wanted it demolished to make way for their new I-90 projects—it was legally still in limbo.

The twelve-story building had windows on the second and third levels only. In its heyday the upper floors were basically a series of big refrigerators and freezers. Now, the windowless upper levels served as a canvas for huge billboards seen from I-90’s current route. Theo had said they wanted to do this at the den, but it hadn’t hit me until now that this was the den. No wonder the disputes had been going on for years. The wæres were trying to work out a deal.

I checked the sky. The moon was still visible, and I was sure I would be able to see it from the west-side windows. “You’ll herd the wolves to the kennels after they change?” I asked as Johnny drove up a newer ramp and into the open lower level. We passed through the loading dock access and into what looked like another parking garage.

“I will.”

He parked. We all got out. As I retrieved my things from the trunk he told Maxine, “This is as far as you go. We have our own security.” His decision didn’t surprise me; she worked for Menessos, after all.

“Where she goes,” Maxine pointed at me, “I go. By order of the Regional Vampire Lord.”

“His orders mean nothing here.”

“You don’t want to cross him,” she said.

“And you don’t want to be a lone Offerling in my den.”

Her eyebrows lowered and her lips tensed: conflict turning to anger.

“Maxine, as your Erus Veneficus, I’ll take responsibility if Menessos is displeased.”

“I’m just supposed to wait here in the car?”

“Actually,” Johnny said, “I suggest you drive over there.” He gestured. “Just on the other side of I-90 is a place called University Inn. The best eastern European food anywhere. I recommend the Salisbury steak and pierogies. Eat slow. Have some dessert and strike up a conversation with someone. I guarantee you’ll learn something interesting.” He opened the Audi’s door. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Seconds later, she drove down the ramp.

Johnny said, “This way.” We entered the building.

There were twenty or so cars in this lower level. A stairwell sat next to a wide, open elevator. The lift was big enough for a car and had rickety wooden gates. The elevator in the vampire haven had struck me as unsafe and I’d been concerned about riding on it, but it wasn’t nearly as ramshackle as this one.

As Johnny led me onto the elevator, I said, “Now would be a good time to offer me a few words of reassurance.”

He laughed and replied, “It’s safe.” When he shut the time-and termite-damaged gate, pieces of wood splintered to the floor.

“How … romantic,” I muttered.

He entered some code on the keypad and jabbed his thumb on a red button that made the gears shudder. The elevator rose with a rhythmic jerkiness that was not at all comforting. His charming lopsided smile beamed at me until we stopped at the second floor.

An open expanse sprawled before us, and the men were grouped to the far western side. Todd was approaching, having heard the elevator’s gears kick in. Blond and built like a pro wrestler, he was two full inches shorter than me. The meanness in his features was constant. He didn’t bother with a greeting. He said simply, “They’re ready.”

The men stood silently watching. It would have made me feel more at ease if they had been chattering among themselves. Instead, they shifted their weight and locked keen eyes on me. They were likely as uncertain about their safety in this spell as I had been about mine on that elevator. I’d make sure to reassure them with more than “It’s safe,” and a smile as I’d gotten from Johnny.

All eighteen of them were here, Kirk included. They bowed their heads and murmured respectfully, “Domn Lup.”

This spell was going to be their reward for volunteering to stand with Johnny against the fairies. It would give these wæres the ability to retain their man-minds whenever they transformed naturally with the moon cycles. They had done as he asked and they deserved this gift. But I was also doing this for Johnny.

Theo was doing her best searching for answers, but we had little to go on, and the wærewolf head honcho would be here tomorrow. Not much time to find this Arcanum, let alone undo the magic, but Menessos had indicated the spell should somewhat weaken the bonds restraining Johnny and enable him to transform more easily. The Rege would see only the fully ascended Domn Lup.

Johnny introduced me, and said, “While she checks the windows and decides what spot will suit the needs of the spell, let me just say once more how grateful I am that you volunteered …”

While he continued addressing the men, I walked to the western wall, set down my bag and broom, and gauged the view from the various windows. The glass was clouded with years of weather and grime, so I resorted to checking those that were broken out, trying to find a spot where the moon was in the best position. Once located, I could mark my spot on the floor and arrange the wæres accordingly.

My ears detected a regular tap-tapping sound and I searched for the source. The men heard it, too, and Johnny’s words trailed off. It seemed to be echoing from a stairwell beside the elevator. The shadows darkened with movement beyond. The men were all actively sniffing the air.

Cammi Harding stepped into the light.

The spoiled bank heiress had, apparently, gone shopping and found a pair of shiny gold, thigh-high platform boots not unlike the red ones Menessos had provided me for the Erus Veneficus ceremony. When I’d gone to The Dirty Dog to talk to Johnny, Cammi had ogled my boots. That particular run-in had ended badly for her, as had our last run-in, which occurred at a church. Clearly, she was back for more.

Her glossy black miniskirt was as tight and short as possible, and meant for someone at least fifteen years her junior. She did seem to relish flaunting what wære genetics had graced her with. The gold top was low-cut and sleeveless. Despite the chill in the November air, she wore no coat. Even from this distance I was certain her nails, makeup, and fluffy platinum hair were flawless. The only thing that surprised me was the absence of her more subdued twin, Sammi.

As soon as I saw her, I found myself wondering what Eva de Monique looked like. I am secure that my relationships with both Johnny and Menessos are all I want them to be. I hoped that affirmation would squelch these seeds of jealousy.

“Hello, boys,” Cammi purred, strutting forward.

“What are you doing here?” Todd demanded.

“I’m here to be the voice of reason.”

“Get out,” Johnny commanded.

“Someone needs to remind them what a risk they’re taking, letting magic be stirred around them.” She angled her path to avoid Johnny and stopped in front of the gathered men three good paces out of anyone’s reach. “You haven’t forgotten how that witch threatened me, have you? Or that she threatened to call the energy up and leave me half-formed? You heard her, Pete. I know you did. And so did you, Josh. And yet you line up like puppies in a pound, wagging your tails, eager to be petted.” She tossed her head and struck a pose of defiance as she looked them up and down, taking the measure of every man present. “There’s not an alpha among you.”

That won her angry growls all around. She can’t think insulting them—and their Domn Lup—will sway them to see her side of things.

“Oooo. I love that sound,” she taunted. “Do it again.”

The men gave her their best growls.

“There it is … there’s the evidence of the backbone of real wæres. I know you’ve seen him change, you’ve found your Domn Lup. But he’s not doing this, is he? She is.” She pointed at me accusingly. “The sange stricata.” She sauntered toward me, and the group of men parted to let her through. She stopped just past them, as if to give the visual effect that she was leading the wæres who flanked her. “They say she’s the Lustrata. What-fucking-ever. What does the witches’ messiah matter to us? Have you all forgotten your training? The witches are—” Her features manifested arrogance and seemed to scream, I know something you don’t know. “Well, we’ll not discuss that in front of her. Let’s discuss what we all know: she’s a witch tied to witches, she’s also tied to vampires—you’ve seen her on the Regional Lord’s lap, feeding him—and she’s tied to our Domn Lup.”

“You’re walking a thin line, Cammi,” Todd barked.

“Oh shut up. I’m not anti–Domn Lup. I’m merely connecting the dots and making sure you see how she could be a danger to us all.” With a flick of her wrist she cut Todd off before he could get another syllable out. “I want you all to do what the Lup asks of you. But not blindly. Ask yourself: Do you trust her? Are you willing to become another half-formed monster?”

“Get out,” Johnny said. “Now.”

“Make me,” she cooed. “Show me what a big strong alpha you can be.”

“Heel, bitch.” This new, deep voice echoed from the stairwell.

As its source stepped into view, I recognized Mr. Alligator Shoes from the drugstore.

Men filed in, forming a line behind him. Yet, as Johnny, Todd, and the other pack wæres squared their shoulders and emitted low growls, I wondered what, exactly, was going on. How had these guys gotten through the security Johnny had boasted about, and whether I should let Johnny know this was the guy from the drugstore.

Mr. Alligator Shoes marched into the room, and his men maintained their line behind him, though one not-so-brawny man lagged back, carrying a briefcase.

Cammi sucked in a breath and sashayed toward him. “Finally, a true alpha!” She gave a coquettish little shimmy at the last.

Maxine was right; he was a wærewolf.

As she neared, Mr. Alligator Shoes swiftly slapped her—hard enough to knock her to the ground. “Never speak to your dirija again.” He spat on her.

My mouth opened to protest—standing silently by while someone hit a woman wasn’t in my nature—but Johnny caught my attention as he threw off his leather jacket and his shirt. His hands, arms, and shoulders darkened, sprouted fur, and bulged. It wasn’t pretty, but it bulked his size closer to that of Mr. Alligator Shoes, who had pointed his finger at Cammi as she had pointed at me earlier. “You will never trouble him with the sound of your voice ever again, do you understand me, bitch?” He spoke with a thick accent.

That was when Johnny leaped forward, launching himself at Mr. Alligator Shoes. Both fell, rolled, and rose up swinging.

The two groups of men growled at each other, but none interfered with the fight. Cammi, reflexively touching her smacked cheek, struggled to get her feet under her. I could attest to the difficulty of this when there’s two extra inches of platform attached to the bottom of a high-heeled shoe.

The men fighting seemed well matched; for what I could tell, each was blocking the other’s punches. Then Mr. Alligator Shoes took a hit to the kidneys, but it gave him an opening to hit Johnny in the jaw. Johnny’s growl rumbled in his chest and I felt a wave of energy. He punched Mr. Alligator Shoes in the stomach so hard it lifted him into the air and sent him back six feet. Johnny was fully transformed before Mr. Alligator Shoes had landed.

He hadn’t taken off his jeans, though. Wriggling and kicking out of the fabric and the undies gave the beast some trouble. By the time Mr. Alligator Shoes had been helped up by his men, the pony-size black wolf stood snarling before them.

“It’s true,” Mr. Alligator Shoes whispered.