Arcane Circle

CHAPTER NINETEEN

About an hour later, after an elevator ride down to a familiar parking area beneath, I realized that I’d been brought to the den. Maybe without a concussion I might have realized sooner, but the upper floors, which had no windows, were nothing like the lower area, and the elevator had steel secondary doors, not just a wooden gate.

They had bound my hands again, this time in front of me, but there was so much of the prickly rope wrapped around them that it was, truly, overkill—like eight pounds of anchor line. If my arms didn’t ache, I could have started building up my biceps. Enough reps with this load and I could give Gregor some competition.

A black limo was waiting. Gregor, three Omori, the Rege, and I all climbed in. Omori thugs sat on either side of and across from me. Gregor opened a brown paper grocery bag and set it on the floor space before my feet. “In case you vomit again,” he said mockingly. “Do not miss.”

Other than that, no one spoke. We were subjected to some classical music that was much too upbeat for the state of my head. Watching out the windows made my stomach very unhappy, so I focused on the floor and the beat of the throbbing inside my head. But I wanted to know where they were taking me, too. I recognized Carnegie Avenue and East Seventy-ninth Street. We took a right on Superior, then a left on Martin Luther King Jr. Drive.

Are we going to the Cultural Gardens? I lowered my eyes again as my stomach shuddered.

Nana and I had picnicked here a few times in my childhood. She liked, predictably, the Greek Garden with its Doric columns framing the entrance to a reflecting pool. Nana and I ought to bring Beverley here next summer and picnic. If I make it out of this, that is.

My stomach squeezed; I fought against it. Back at the den I had asked for a drink of water and Gregor had declined, saying I would only “make a mess” if he did. He was right. I leaned over the paper bag just in case.

The Omori thugs beside me inched away.

The limo zipped past the Greek Garden area, pulling over to the left just before the stone bridge that supported St. Clair Avenue. The arched stonework in the bridge was gorgeous, reminding me of the entrance to the Arcade that Mountain had shown me. There was no time for daydreaming, however. The men unloaded and I was expected to stay with them. Damn it. I want a bottle of water and a nap.

I thought the wealth of rope around my wrists would be a red flag to drivers passing by, but one of the Omori thugs was wearing an overcoat. Gregor ordered him to remove it, then draped it over my arms as if I was merely holding my jacket as I strolled along.

I made sure to breathe my puke breath on him.

So, in the dying light of the day, we walked up to the life-size statue of a man in a long coat, seated comfortably, yet clearly deep in thought. The Rege seemed particularly glad to see it.

The bronze had taken on the green patina of age and local pigeons had added their artwork as well. The plaque told me it was George Enescu, the years of his birth and death, and that he was a composer. A Romanian composer.

Maybe the long cassocklike coats are a Romanian thing.

If this was just a little sightseeing trip around Cleveland to take in spots that offered some cultural homage to these foreign visitors, hooray. But there was no reason to take native-Ohioan me along for the ride. I was no tour guide.

So what is going on? “Are you guys all fans of Mr. Enescu’s?”

“I am,” the Rege said. “That was his Romanian Rhapsodies we were listening to.”

Gregor’s cell phone beeped. He gave it to the Rege.

“We’re waiting,” he said tersely. Pause. “Not coming? What do you mean not coming?” The displeasure in his voice was succinct. That someone could irk him that much made me smile. Then, whoever was on the other end said something in response that caused the Rege’s attention to shoot to me. He stormed away, snarling whispers into the phone that I couldn’t understand.

Smiling at Gregor like I’d just won the lottery, I asked, “Things not going according to plan?”

He said nothing, but simply gave me a fine example of what utter contempt looks like. If he’d been on our team, it would have been a plus in our column. We started another stare down. The wounds Johnny gave him had healed nicely.

“We have her, so get your ass down here and claim her!” The Rege shut the phone so hard the sides clacked together and he tossed it at Gregor with such aggravation he didn’t realize his best pal wasn’t paying attention. Gregor took it in the face.

Shoved into the back of the limo, I climbed onto one of the side seats. These guys were definitely not gentlemen.

The Rege sat inside with me. Gregor remained just beyond the car door.

“Who’s coming to claim me?”

“Ah.” He gave a snort of laughter. “A witch with so many enemies she cannot tell whom to fear first. How many lives have you befouled and besmirched?”

I scowled at him. Surely he understood that I could tap the ley line and change all of them into the things I’d seen in the upper floors of the den—

Even as I thought it I knew I could never do that to a person on purpose. I felt the hardness fade from my features.

“Who do you think would pay the most?”

Chin lifted proudly, I asked, “The Rege is an extortionist?”

The Rege backhanded me with enough force to propel me against the side seat. “Never. But I cannot refuse the opportunity to add to the coffers.”

My already-concussed head did not take that blow well. I blacked out for I don’t know how long. When I woke, I lay there dazed and reeling for several minutes before feeling recovered enough to sit up.

I wondered what time it was. The road through the Cultural Gardens wound through like a meandering stream at the bottom of a valley, and here the day’s last light was blocked by the sloping heights of the garden. The tinted limo windows made it even darker. I hadn’t detected Menessos waking, so this had to be dusk.

“I always get my way, witch. As you should recall. Or do you need another lesson?”

In answer, I scooted as far from him as I could and tried to rub at my now puffy jaw. The way they had me tied up, all I could do was scrape the rope over it. I’ve been abused enough for one day.

Considering his words, however, I had to infer that he believed he did rape me when I had invoked that power and influenced him. I’d said, “You’re finished here.” Maybe in his mesmerized mind, that implied the deed had been done.

Another car pulled in behind the limo. Because it was now the time period of civil twilight, this car had the headlamps on and they were the new Xenon kind. They made me squint even through the tinted rear windshield.

Then another car arrived behind that one, and another. I detected nearly a dozen dark figures coming toward the limo. The driver of the first car exited and joined those moving in.

I was ready to throw up again. Where’d that bag go …

Menessos awoke. After a moment of adjustment, the sense of completeness filled me, and took the edge off my pain. I abandoned the interior bag search. Peering out the rear window I saw the driver of the car with the offensive lights.

Johnny.

The local wæres formed a line to the side of the Audi Johnny had driven. The car gave them some cover from any prying eyes of passersby. Drivers wouldn’t think much of cars stopped here, and the presence of a limo would likely offset the oddness of suited tough guys standing around in the garden.

Gregor opened the door and the Rege slid out with a grace not unlike Menessos’s. He stepped forward and the door slammed before I could exit. Another guard came to stand at the door to the other side. I was reduced to watching out the window like a kid.

“Where is she?” Johnny demanded.

The Rege used his thumb to point at the limo. “Inside.” He tilted his head, assessing Johnny. “Gregor documented his wounds. They were quite nasty.”

Johnny held up his fists. “If you’re after a matching set of your own, I’ve got ’em right here.”

The Omori all growled and moved half-steps forward. “Never insult your Rege!” Gregor snarled.

The Rege stopped Gregor with a gesture.

“You’re the Domn Lup?”

“I am.”

“Prove it.”

“Give me the witch first.” There was an edge to Johnny’s voice. I heard it even through the glass.

The Rege hadn’t missed it, either. “Why?”

“Why not?”

He shrugged nonchalantly like a man who knew he had the advantage. “Are you sure you want damaged goods?”

I hadn’t expected he would play his hand so soon.

Johnny shifted his weight, tensing. “What did you do?”

The Rege spread his arms. “I entertained her.”

I thought for certain Johnny would go into an all-out transformation. But he didn’t. His chin lowered. “Show her to me, or I’ll tear you apart.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

“What I did to him,” he indicated Gregor, “was restrained.”

“I’d say she’s faired marginally better. But not by much.”

Either he was trying to instigate Johnny to change, or male pissing contests had just been taken to a new level.

The good thing was that everyone was focused on the two of them. Inside the limo, I was sitting right next to the door. Twisting, I put my feet against the door, levered the handle, and kicked out with all my might.

The rearmost edge of the door caught the Rege in the small of his back, scraping him and sending him forward.

Gregor reacted. He reached for the door, but the window hit his knuckles hard; it forced his arm back and left him to be broadsided by the door—right in the balls. He doubled over.

As I shot between them, Gregor grabbed my leg. I fell flat, elbows hitting hard and my bound hands flapped out before me. In a heartbeat Johnny was there, helping me up.

“Leave her,” the Rege snapped.

Johnny stilled. I craned my neck to see why.

While Johnny had bent to help me, the Rege recovered and drew a knife from somewhere. He held it against Johnny’s throat.

“Sharing power with you isn’t in my plan, boy.”

“My whole pack knows about me.”

The Rege shrugged; it made Johnny suck air through his teeth. A thin line of blood appeared where his skin and the blade edge met. “The Omori are very good at what they do.”

Johnny wouldn’t give in. “So is my pack.”

“Ha! Welders. Construction workers. Movers. What do they know of being hunted?”

No one was paying much attention to me. I was on the ground and therefore helpless. But if I could draw attention to me, Johnny might get a shot at getting out of his predicament. “He underestimates everyone, Johnny. It’s his personal flaw.”

The instant my voice distracted the Rege, Johnny threw himself backward, kicking up his feet. Johnny’s foot strike drove the Rege’s arm upward, and the knife sailed into the air. The Rege lost his balance, pitching forward onto his knees.

Johnny’s flip left him neatly crouched.

The dagger thunked into the ground between them.

Johnny snatched it and stood, glowering down at the Rege.

Gregor put his foot on the back of my head and applied pressure to my lump. I screamed. Grass and leaves got in my mouth. All I wanted to do was keep him from grinding his heel on my head.

Reaching behind my head, I groped up his shoe and under his pant leg, I clawed down Gregor’s sock and dug my nails into his skin as I screamed again.

Once, I had pulled power from Menessos. Being bound to me, he fed on my energy and I had been able to call that power back to me. But through him, I’d also pulled from Goliath. While Gregor didn’t have any power of mine to call, his power was pooling on the surface of his aura.

I drew on that power; I yanked on it. The earth roiled under me and it seemed I became a geyser of fiery acid ready to erupt.

Suddenly, Gregor wasn’t accosting me anymore.

Wiping grass from my mouth, I rolled over. He was scurrying, crablike, away from me. “She tried to make me change!” he shouted.

I was mad enough—and hurt enough—to spit nails now. I got my feet under me and shouted back, “I did not! If I’d meant to do that you wouldn’t be in man form right now,” I said, stalking toward him. “What I did was remind you of what I can do.” I kept advancing. He twisted to get his feet under him, trying to run even though he wasn’t up and balanced yet.

The big, brawny Omori retreated before me, drawing their guns.

I heard Johnny laugh. “Those pussies are your brave Omori?”

I stopped and turned to face him.

“Greg there said we Americans were weak … right before I kicked his ass.” He shook his head at the Rege. “Fuck. You guys are clueless.”