Arcane Circle

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

After bundling up, I checked by the garage for the bucket. Thunderbird had not brought it back, so I filled a mixing bowl instead. The four of us walked to Mountain’s mobile home first. Beverley knocked. “You’re my first guest, Beverley,” he said happily. “Come in! I don’t have much in the way of seating to offer, but it’s out of the cold air.”

I could smell pizza, then saw half of one on the stovetop on a round cooking stone. “The oven works. Anyone like a slice?”

Beverley took a small one. I didn’t blame her. Nana’s lahanodolmathes wasn’t going to be her favorite. I had a suspicion Nana’s traditional Greek food phase was actually an unspoken effort to get someone else to volunteer for cooking duty in Johnny’s absence.

Something bumped the back door lightly and emitted a gargly whining sound. It commanded our attention but Mountain simply shrugged it off. “I think Zoltan wants some pizza.”

“I wouldn’t advise giving in to that,” Dr. Lincoln said.

“Don’t worry, Doc. The way that little dragon belches his tuna there’s no way I’m letting him have a garlic-tomato sauce.”

“Can I see him?” Zhan asked.

“Certainly.” Mountain grabbed a Lysol spray. “Hopefully this will kill the pizza smell for him.” He doused the area of the door then led the doctor and an eager Zhan outside and over to the barn.

Beverley and I remained behind so she could finish her pizza.

An awkward moment later, she said, “I’m sorry about breaking your glass.”

My glass. “This is your home now, kiddo. It was your glass, too.” I hoped she understood what I was trying to say. “I’m sorry that I have to do something that your mother did, something that bothered you.”

Beverley set the pizza on a napkin. “She always acted like Goliath biting her was no big deal. It’s got to hurt. It’s …”

When she didn’t go on, I took a deep breath and steeled myself. “I’m the Lustrata, Beverley. I am bound to Menessos and to Johnny, and to you and Nana.” I searched her face and added, “There’s nothing I can do to change any of that.”

The corners of her little mouth angled down. “I don’t want you to die.”

“I don’t, either.” I took her into my arms. But my path is a dangerous one.

“I don’t want to lose you,” she said. “I don’t want to go anywhere else. I like it here.”

I pulled away and got on my knees to be eye level with her. “This is how things are here. Vampires and witches and wærewolves are always going to be in the mix. I can’t promise it will be easy for you. It won’t. But I can tell you that I truly want you to be a part of my life. I want you to have a regular childhood, but a lot of my life isn’t regular.”

She wiped her cheeks with her shirtsleeve. “I don’t want a ‘regular childhood.’ Regular kids don’t get to ride unicorns and play with dragons.”

My heart swelled. She couldn’t have said anything that encouraged me more. Grasping her arms reassuringly, I said, “Then you have to accept the good and the bad. You have to accept that living here means riding unicorns and playing with dragons and it means knowing that one vampire gets to drink from me and a certain wærewolf gets to kiss me.” I squeezed her gently. “Can you accept that?”

She bit her lip, then nodded. I pulled her to me and said, “I love you, Beverley.”

They were words I couldn’t bring myself to say to Johnny, but they slipped out for her easily.

She threw her arms around me. “I love you, too.”

It was like those words sealed all the cracks of concern between us. They gave her security. They gave me hope.

When we joined the others, Zhan was still awestruck and trying to make friends with Zoltan, who slithered away every time she tried to touch him. His constant aversion wore her down until she looked hurt.

“He’s playing with you,” Mountain told her. “Turn your back like you’re sulking, and he’ll sneak up on you. When you spin around, see if you can avoid him until he pretends to sulk.”

She did as he instructed and for the next several minutes the two of them played this variation of Keep-away. It was amazing. Zhan was nimble as a ninja, flipping and somersaulting through the barn. Watching the two of them was like watching an acrobatic stage show. When finally Zhan stopped, breathless but delighted, Zoltan coiled around her and let her pet him.

The rest of us applauded.

“He’s incredible,” she said.

“Indeed,” Mountain said. There was a sparkle in his eyes I hadn’t seen before. He’s sweet on Zhan!

When Geoff finished with the dragons we proceeded to the phoenix coop. Their staccato chirps made it clear that they did not like being disturbed after sundown, but Mountain pulled a box of Hot Tamales from his pocket and gave each of the fire birds a piece of the zesty candy.

“Is that what I think it is?” Geoff asked.

“I dropped some earlier accidentally,” Mountain said, his cheeks flushing. “They went into a feeding frenzy.”

It didn’t take long for the vet to finish up and we moved on to the unicorn and griffon barn. I peered across the night-shrouded field toward the grove. I couldn’t detect Thunderbird if he was there, but he would have been well camouflaged.

A sense of urgency filled me, an eagerness to get to him, but we needed to let Beverley see the unicorns first. She’d earned her grade and had been very patient. I could be, too.

When the barn doors rolled open, every pristine white unicorn head rose up. Some quiet nickering greeted Mountain. A young colt backed out of his stall in the middle and trotted the short distance toward us. “Hey, Errol.” Mountain scratched under the colt’s chin.

“Can I pet him?” Beverley asked.

“Ask him,” Mountain said.

Beverley moved one cautious step closer. “May I pet you, Errol?”

Errol backed up two steps. I thought he was declining, but then he ceremoniously bent one foreleg under and bowed down until the tip of his horn touched the ground at Beverley’s feet.

Wide-eyed, she whispered to Mountain, “That’s a yes, right?”

He was as surprised by this gesture as the rest of us. To me, he said, “I think that’s an invitation.”

With the unicorn making his dramatic display, I couldn’t possibly have said no. I nodded. Errol raised up. Mountain slid his hands under Beverley’s arms and lifted her, placing her gently on the unicorn’s back. Errol moved away, slowly. With high parading steps he walked toward the rear of the barn where the griffons had made nests out of hay. The colt brought her back, and took her toward the griffons again.

She was, of course, delighted. “He’s so beautiful, Seph! Can I tie purple ribbons in his mane and tail?”

With lifted brows, I redirected her question to Mountain, who said, “If Errol doesn’t protest, sure.”

Assured that Mountain and Geoff had everything under control, I announced, “I’m going to try to bring Thunderbird here, so you’ll have the light.”

“I’ll come with you,” Zhan said. I opened my mouth to object, but she cut me off by adding, “Menessos assigned me to make sure you’re safe, so you won’t be going out in the dark alone. I promise to stay back once we get near him.”

It was proof that the sentinels were getting to know me. Zhan hadn’t even pulled her gun when we left the house. “C’mon.”

We tromped across the field toward the grove, pushing aside cornstalks to take a direct path. The moon was a crescent hidden behind clouds full of cold rain waiting to burst open. Half the distance in, my vision had adjusted.

“Now will you tell me how you happened to steal these phenomenal creatures?” Zhan asked.

“The fey had control collars on them. The only way to stop them was to remove the collars. They’re quite dangerous when forced to be, so it wasn’t easy. It was like the reverse of mice trying to bell a cat. Once freed from the collars, though, they stopped fighting against us and actively helped us as if they were eager to be away from the fairies.”

“Eager to be home.” Zhan’s steps slowed, then stopped, and she emitted a light sigh. It wasn’t the long, breathy, “wow” kind of sigh. It was the brisk, irritated-with-myself kind.

Though I had pressed on a few more steps, I waited for her and spoke through the stalks. “What is it, Zhan?”

She shook her head as if clearing her thoughts and moved forward. “It’s just so extraordinary.”

That, I could tell, wasn’t the whole truth, but she didn’t have to share more.

A dozen yards later, we left the cornfield and emerged onto the grassy edge of the grove. I shook the bucket. “Thunderbird,” I called. “Hungry, boy?”

Nothing. Not even nest-bound birds or squirrels awakened by my voice deigned to answer. After trying a few more times, my patience was ended. Minding my footing, I entered the grove and watched for movement amid the trees. I called his name again.

Maybe he’d gone flying. There weren’t any injuries to his wings.

I walked around the more open part of the inner grove, searching for the other bucket, thinking to fill it from this one.

When I found it, it was still full.

“Zhan! Help me find him!”

I dropped the metal mixing bowl and launched into a frantic search. As I pushed through the branches, my arms got scraped and I stopped.

He didn’t come this way. Where would he fit?

I scrutinized the dark … and found his path. Following a trail of broken branches, straining to see, I neared the far side of the grove and tripped over Thunderbird’s leg.

I plopped down, twisting to keep from landing on him. Jumping up, I called out, “Here!”

Thunderbird hadn’t made a sound. On my knees, my hands groped all over him. He felt cold and he didn’t respond. Don’t be dead. Pressing on his rib cage, I held my breath trying to detect his breathing or a pulse.

There! Weak, but beating.

Zhan appeared from the grove a few yards away. “Get Mountain and the doc,” I called.

It seemed like forever, but the two men arrived. Mountain tried to lift Thunderbird but couldn’t. “Please, Mountain, I’ve seen you carry a couch!”

“Sorry, Seph. Couches aren’t limp. They don’t have wings and paws and claws flopping this way and that putting me off balance.”

“We can’t leave him here!”

“I could drag him,” Mountain suggested.

In the end, we lifted his front half, pushed a half-rolled tarp under him, then lifted the back half and spread out the length of the tarp. We threaded rope through the tarp grommets and tied it to the backhoe and pulled him to the barn. Mountain dragged the tarp inside.

The griffons left their nests and watched as Dr. Lincoln tended Thunderbird’s damaged eye socket, then inspected the claw. The three front talons had been seared off at the same point. Fax Torris’s beam must have burned them away. Geoff bandaged those, readied a syringe. “This will fight infection,” he said, “but I have no idea what dosage is appropriate for a griffon. I’m calculating it according to weight, and I’m guessing at his weight, so …” He drew a long breath. “Don’t be mad at me if Thunderbird doesn’t make it.”

“I trust your best guess, Geoff.”

He administered the shot, then stood. “Keeping him warm now will help. Can we get him into one of those nests?”

“We can try.”

Mountain hauled the tarp into the sawdust that padded the rear of the barn, and got him near an empty nest, then he put his arms around Thunderbird’s rib cage behind his wings. “When I lift, you yank the tarp away, okay?” When that was done, the griffons crowded around. Mountain tried to shoo them away. “I’m trying to get him into a nest,” he told them. A griffon pushed in between him and Thunderbird and continued to push Mountain until he was off the sawdust.

Two eagle-and-lion griffons moved in on either side of Thunderbird, lying with their bodies against his, and they covered him with their wings. Another hawk-and-cheetah griffon moved in behind them, and the smallest one wriggled under Thunderbird’s neck until his head was cradled upon the other’s shoulders. The rest of them resumed their nests.

“I’ve never seen the like,” Geoff murmured.

My satellite phone rang. It was Menessos. “Hello.”

“Ah, the sound of your voice warms my heart.” He paused. “Or maybe that’s just my dinner going to my head.”

I walked away from the others to a more private spot. “How’s Eva?”

“Drained.”

His blasé answer evoked my sarcasm. “Well, at least your hunger’s satisfied.”

“Ah, my sustenance is the nightly charity of my good people. But finding satisfaction, Persephone, is not so simple as the insertion of my fangs into flesh. That requires the insertion of another part of me into warm and eager flesh.”

“Doesn’t Eva have warm and eager flesh?”

“Of course. But the sweet thrill wanes somewhat when eagerness is so easily elicited. The succulent bliss of the moment is lost.”

Johnny could’ve written a whole song around that one sentence, so I committed it to memory. However, I was in no mood tonight to cater to Menessos’s need for bliss. I selected my next words carefully. “So what’s the purpose of your call?”

“Goliath had some news.”

“Oh?”

“He’s uncovered clues concerning Heldridge.”

Heldridge was the vampire who’d coerced a performer at the Erus Veneficus ceremony to kill Menessos as part of his act. I’d been on Menessos’s lap at the time, so initially we weren’t certain which of us had been the target. “And?”

“It seems the traitor was seen in Pittsburgh but has moved on to Harrisburg.”

“Goliath’s closing in on him?”

“Yes. The word is out that Heldridge has acted traitorously against his Regional Lord, so he has no access to funds, the Vampire Executive International Network has placed a bounty on him, and he will have trouble finding anyone who will speak to him and not betray him. But Heldridge, too, seems to be closing in on his goal. The only question is whether he’ll be able to find appropriate lodging for his days as he makes his way to Washington, D.C.”

“Why would a vampire try to reach D.C.?”

“Our North American headquarters are there.”

So instead of hiding in shadows and disappearing completely, Heldridge was racing to get to the topmost blood drinkers? “Is he seeking some kind of political sanctuary?”

“I believe it more likely that he has information.”

“Valuable enough to save himself?”

“Perhaps. It depends on how he pitches it. And whether or not it can be proven.”

“What does he know?”

“What the fairies wanted him to know.”

That Menessos was alive. Or had been. Thanks to me, he was now truly one of the undead. “Is that relevant now?”

“As I said, the usefulness of it depends on whether or not he can prove it.”

“Can he prove it?”

“Persephone, your own words could be used against you.”

“My words?”

“You are very strong, but if you became his hostage—”

“Hostage? You just said he was in Harrisburg and heading for D.C.”

“I will not underestimate him. He is clever. And, should he capture you … I know his methods. I believe he could make you talk.”