Fatal Circle

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Johnny, two vampire guards trailing him, was walking hurriedly toward the stage from the back of the auditorium. His white shirt was smeared with dark stains. He carried something in his arms. Something small. It moved. A child? My heart lurched in my chest.

Menessos came to his feet, and put me on mine. Instinctively covering the wound with my hand, I applied pressure and felt blood smear on my skin. I tried to stand. Dizzy, I stumbled. Menessos caught me and sat me on the divan. “No.” I didn’t want to sit. “Let me see!” I stood again, and Menessos gave me his arm.

What he carried was blue—Aquula! The fairy’s mermaid tail fin flared in spasm.

“Make way!” Menessos commanded the vampires. They had toppled chairs and overturned tables in an effort to get to the performer. Beholders had flooded from backstage and were carrying out furniture.

I was at Johnny’s side as he stepped onto the stage. “Aquula . . . what can I do for you?” I reached to my pouch for the protrepticus. I’d call Xerxadrea. She’d know—

“Waste not thy effort. Nothing can be done for me.” The fairy’s voice was little more than a tremulous whisper.

“No!”

“The fire fairy has seen to it.” Aquula meant Fax Torris, but saying her name was similar to calling her, and nobody wanted her to show up now. “The poison is slow, but it is certain.” Aquula coughed; blood was draining from her mouth and her gills. “I must warn thee.”

“Tell us,” Menessos said, caressing the top of her head.

“My death is meant to hurt thee, Master. Moreover, the fire fairy has vowed that if Persephone doth not honor WEC’s command and deliver you at dawn on Sunday, she will target the child again.”

My heart shuddered. Beverley!

Aquula convulsed, then continued. Her too large eyes had lost their sparkle. They seemed dim. Her pupils dilated, then contracted and found me. “She will use any means necessary to get around thy protections, and she will not stop there. Thy granddam and the new high priestess will follow.” To Menessos, she said, “She will not stop until her bonds are broken.” She stretched to touch his face but was too weak to reach him.

“I grieve,” Menessos said, taking her hand and bringing it to his cheek.

When she touched him, she whispered, “Remember me well.”

“Fondly. Forever.” Menessos stroked her glittery blue cheek.

“From an immortal, that is more than enough.”

As she spoke, I saw that her teeth were stained with blood. Her eyes searched around and found mine again. “Take my pearls. I want them to be thine.”

Tears burned my eyes.

“It is an honor to die in thy world,” she whispered to Menessos. “Ever . . . ever do I love thee.” Aquula’s hand dropped from his face.

He positioned her fragile arm across her small chest. He was shaking badly.

Johnny saw it, and shot me a questioning glance.

I shook my head.

He scanned the smear of blood on my neck.

“How did you find Aquula?” I asked.

“She was in the parking garage, trying to drag herself to the stairwell. They must have flown over and dropped her on the top level.

“I was just getting here and I can’t stay . . . but I wanted to tell you what was going on. Hector called.”

“Ig?”

Johnny nodded gravely.

Menessos turned his back to us, moved a half step away.

Aquula’s body, I saw, was covered in dark blisters. Perhaps they were from the poison, but they might have been from the proximity of large amounts of asphalt and iron in the city.

“Red, I have to go. Where can I put her?”

I didn’t know and Menessos didn’t seem to be about to answer. I reached to the vampire’s arm, but withdrew realizing Goliath had positioned himself so they could stare at each other. They were communicating. With an almost imperceptible nod, Goliath approached the edge of the stage. “Brethren of this haven, a new EV has been appointed to you, and that is cause to celebrate. Continue your festivities, but pardon our absence as we attend to this matter.” He gestured to the DJ and the music blared through the speakers once more.

I felt a ripple on my aura—as if it had been flicked by invisible fingers. Menessos’s voice resonated from the speakers, mentioning “minor events must be attended to . . . dance and enjoy.” Along with the words, he was giving them all a subliminal push away from any curiosity.

Goliath led Johnny backstage. Menessos was following. I remained where I was, unsure of what to do. Mountain—in a tuxedo!—approached me. “Ms. Witch? The Boss will be needing you.”

I took Mountain’s arm and he guided me through the backstage maze to the green room. We arrived as Menessos was opening the door to his private chambers, beneath mine. We all filed through the door. Mountain took up a position outside.

The front chamber had a round stone altar table across from the door and leather seating to the right. The latter seemed designed for private meetings with other members of VEIN. Two plush armchairs sat directly across from each other, while two armless semicircular couches would each accommodate six. The walls were stacked stone. On the back wall, two white marble pillars stood on either side of a wooden door with iron studs set into it.

“Here.” Menessos shoved items from the circular altar. Stones went flying. His athame clattered to the tile floor. A clay goddess statue shattered on the floor. “Place her here.” He cast the altar cloth aside.

Johnny laid Aquula on the stone table. Poisoned purple blood continued oozing from her gills. Menessos adjusted her into a peaceful pose, lovingly folding her fingers together. He lifted her head to remove the pearls and smooth her raven hair, then he bent and kissed her forehead tenderly. When he straightened, he reverently covered her with the silver altar cloth and laid the pearls at her side.

“I have to go,” Johnny whispered again.

“Do you need to change?”

“I don’t have time to change.” He brushed hair from my neck; I felt strands pull, caught in the congealing blood.

He saw Menessos drinking from me. Had he understood?

Or maybe it didn’t matter. He was in anguish, losing someone he cared about. So was Menessos. I wanted to be with them both, to comfort them both. “I want to come with you! But—”

“Will you be okay?”

He would tend his mourning alone. It made me want to go with him all the more.

I nodded. Despite Seven’s objections to my showing affection to Johnny, only Menessos and Goliath were present and they already knew. I pulled him into my arms and hugged him. “Go, Johnny. I’ll be fine.”

“Your car’s in the parking garage. I’m taking the bike. Friday-night traffic . . .”

“I know. Go. It’s all right.”

He kissed me quickly, a mere peck, and left. The music pounded in for an instant, then the door shut with a dull sound. The silence seemed empty and sad.

“What can I do, Master?” Goliath asked.

For several seconds, Menessos did not answer him. We waited. “Persephone, contact Xerxadrea. Tell her what has happened and ask her to come to the Botanical Gardens. Tell her I will prepare the body.”

I removed the protrepticus from the pouch at my waist and opened it.

“What do you need now, little girl?” Samson’s voice grumped.

Peripherally, I detected Goliath’s head snapping toward me.

Oh, damn. I flipped the phone shut. “I should do this in my room, and give you some privacy.” I headed for the door.

Abruptly, Goliath’s wrist encircled my arm and yanked me back. “How is my brother speaking to you?”

“Let go.”

Instead, he jerked me to him. Rage made those forget-me-not eyes glow like an ice-blue neon sign. “How?”

Frightened, my only thought was to make him release me. I envisioned and invoked the power pull on him. Instantly, wind swirled up and energy lifted from deep inside him. Electricity crawled over him as it had crawled over Menessos. The sensation of icy water blasted over me.

Goliath recoiled and stumbled, falling to his knees even as Menessos cried out in pain. I shut it down as quickly as I had invoked it. Both gaped at me, but Goliath’s surprise quickly mutated into malice.

Holy shit! Beau’s charm is a serious talisman of power. It had made my ability to tap that energy instantaneous. “I am Erus Veneficus,” I declared. “You will not touch me without permission.” To Menessos I said, “I will contact Xerxadrea as you have asked. And I will meet you at the gardens.” I left.

If I hurried, I could still catch Johnny. I had just made Menessos’s situation worse with two thoughtless acts. Maybe I could do better for Johnny.

I twisted through the mazelike passageway, and crossed the stage with urgency but refrained from running down the steps. The news crews were still up there. Winding through the dancing crowd—the center aisle was now thick with revelers—I tripped on a chair leg. Damn platform boots. Have to overexaggerate every step!

Someone caught me and I twisted, ready to invoke my power again, but Risqué let go as soon as she had me on my feet. “What’s your hurry? Is the poor waere injured?” she asked, almost shouting to be heard over the music.

“Menessos has set me upon an important task,” I said to Risqué, and hurried on my way.

Just as I burst through the outermost door, a motorcycle zipped past. I ran across the sidewalk, to watch as it rolled up Euclid Avenue. My shoulders slumped.

The motorcycle squealed to a halt in the middle of the street.

Car horns blared. Johnny gave someone the finger as he twisted to see me.

In a heartbeat, he jumped the motorcycle up on the sidewalk and sped back to me. It being Friday evening, there were plenty of pedestrians forced to dash out of his way. He stopped the bike right in front of me. Worried as hell, bloodied and grieving, time pressing, he’d nonetheless spent the seconds to fetch me.

“You came back.”

“Look at you, Little Red Riding Hood. What Big Bad Wolf wouldn’t want those long legs wrapped around him?”

The people he nearly ran over had stopped to stare at us. I threw my leg over the bike—as modestly as possible—and sat. As Johnny pulled out onto the street, the same pedestrians cheered.

Sitting at a red light, I got out the protrepticus again. As soon as it opened, Samson scolded me. “That was rude, little girl.”

“Can it, Sam. I haven’t got time. Get Xerxadrea for me.” He grumbled, and I shouted, “Now! And it better be a private line.”

The next thing I knew, the Eldrenne said, “Yes?”

“Can I talk freely?”

“This time, yes.”

I relayed Menessos’s message. “I’m with Johnny right now. We want to join you at the Botanical Gardens, but I don’t know how long we’ll be. Can you guess how long it will take for Menessos to prepare the body?”

“An hour at best, two at worst. I will contact you when I am leaving.”

“Good enough for me,” I said. Seeing the light change, I added, “Gotta go,” and shut the phone just as Johnny accelerated. It was cold to be on the motorcycle in the thin, small pieces of fabric I wore, so I kept the length of the cape around me and safely away from the wheels. I used the time to try and form a strategy for dealing with Goliath.

Menessos had enough pain at the moment, and I hadn’t meant to hurt him more by hurting someone bound to him. The power that came with mastery was frightening, let alone amping it up with Beau’s charm. I had to think it through before I acted again.

The Dirty Dog was closed and dark. Johnny turned the Night Train into a narrow alley and parked in the rear of the bar. I unstraddled and followed him. Inside, we marched up the narrow stairwell again and approached the door.

This time, there was no need to knock; the door stood open. One table lamp brightened the tall room, but failed at making it cheery or homey. It had been a dark room during the day when we’d visited, but in the night, that one necessary light illumined what the sun could not. And that was a shame. The dust covered the mantel like a sheer cloth. Soot tags waved in the air like willow fronds. And the couch, so close to the light, was revealed to be not a patterned fabric, but a solid and threadbare one.

The juniper and ambergris aroma had a drop of something else, something almost antiseptic.

Hector sat on the couch, staring at the floor. He didn’t acknowledge us, even after we’d entered. An open bottle sat on the floor beside his torn and dirty sneaker. He held a juice glass filled with ice and a clear liquid. I’d located the hygienic odor. The label was on the other side of the bottle, but I’d have guessed gin.

“Has he . . . ?” Johnny asked.

Voices trickled in from the room beyond the pocket doors, but not live voices . . . I recognized the Coca-Cola jingle. Television or radio, then. I couldn’t imagine that would have been left on in the room with a dead man.

Hector shook his head. “No. I just . . . I can’t be in there.” His voice was hollow.

Johnny crouched before the big man. “I need you to be in there. I need you to see something.”

“You’re gonna . . . ?” Hector swallowed, but he remained intent on some spot on the floor. He shook his head like a felon with a nervous twitch and his face pinched up. “I can’t watch.” He still hadn’t met Johnny’s eyes.

“Hector. You have to see this. You’ll have to tell the others.”

He shook his head again. “Todd’s the one who’ll need convincing anyway.”

“We don’t have time to wait for—”

“He’s already in there. He knows I called you.”

Johnny stood. “If he—”

“Don’t worry,” Hector said. “I told him that if he touched Ig he’d not make it out of this building alive.” For the first time, he looked up from the floor. His eyes settled on Johnny. “Ig wanted you. And you it will be.”

Johnny nodded. He went to the pocket doors. After a deep breath, he slid them open. When he entered, the voices from the TV were silenced. Hector drained his glass.

I started across the room, but Hector’s soft voice stopped me. “Where does your allegiance lie?” When I didn’t answer quickly enough he added, “I was in there earlier.” He pushed an elbow toward the pocket doors. “I saw the news. Does Johnny and the pack he’s about to acquire have your loyalty? Or do the vampires?”

I thought stating “both” would lack validity, so I decided to point out what I wasn’t as it might have more impact. “I’m not an enemy to either.”

“And who is your ally, then?” he pressed.

“Justice.”

From the bedroom I heard, “Don’t come any closer.”

Leaving Hector for the doorway, I saw Johnny and another man were glaring at each other. The other man—obviously Todd—stood between Johnny and Ig’s bed. Everything about him, from his posture to his scowl, screamed that he was furious. Blond, broad, and built like a brute, if he wasn’t a pro wrestler, it meant they had a height requirement. Todd was maybe five-foot-four. In boots. The bulging weight-trained muscles were his means of compensating his lack of height. His eyes darted around, dark and cunning, with an edge of bestiality and instability.

“I’ve busted my ass for years as his second while you fucked off playing rock star. And regardless of that ultimate irresponsibility of yours, and in spite of the total loyalty I showed, he still wants you to take his fucking place. You!” His fervor made it clear his pain and anger could merge immediately and violently, and that he was teetering on that edge right now.

“Todd—”

“Don’t! Don’t you fucking try to rationalize it! You’ve been nothing but a fucking letdown and a traitor to this pack. Ig doesn’t want to see it, but in an hour, what Ig wants won’t matter. I can wait that long. I’ll fight that long.” He took a fighting pose and, for the first time, became aware of my presence. “Huh.” He gestured at me and added a contemptuous smile. “Brought a witch for backup? She doesn’t scare me.” He inched closer to Johnny. “I’ve seen the news. She’s nothing but a blood whore.”

Johnny threw a punch, a left. Todd ducked, but Johnny countered and, crouching into nearly a squat, landed a right in Todd’s gut. While Johnny’s arm was down, Todd thrust his fist into Johnny’s jaw. It didn’t have nearly the sting and power Todd wanted it to. Clasping Todd’s arm as he followed through, Johnny rose to his full height, and used the other man’s momentum to throw him to the floor. “Mind your mouth.”

Todd sat up. “You were there! I saw you! They had live coverage.” He got his feet under him and stood, moving slowly to the foot of the bed. Johnny was nearer Ig’s head. “The vamp fed on her, she bled into him while the whole fucking world watched. And after years of absence you want to come in here like some damned prodigal son, with her on your arm, and make a claim for the pack? Fuck you, Johnny! Fuck you.”

Ig groaned behind them. He could not speak.

Johnny landed a punch to Todd’s right eye; it snapped his head back and Todd stumbled three steps back to keep from hitting the floor.

Hector came up behind me at the door. “Todd,” Hector said huskily.

“No. I’m not letting him take what’s mine!” He posed as if his feet were rooted in that spot.

“Todd,” Hector said again. I smelled juniper. Definitely gin on his breath.

Todd spat on the floor. “Over my dead body, Hector. Over my dead fucking body is this deserter gonna put the whole pack in danger with his witch-bitch!”

Johnny roared in anger. I felt a flare of energy surge off him unlike anything my aura had ever detected. His body trembled, his hands unclenched and rose up, turning dark even as he kicked off his boots and tore off his already ruined shirt. I backed up, into Hector, who didn’t budge.

Todd retreated also, but came up against Ig’s bed and his legs bent, sitting him on the edge as Johnny went into a full transformation. He stripped out of his clothes just in time, and glanced toward me even as his skin darkened and his snout pushed out. It was horrific and yet fascinating to watch as his skin rippled, his shape changed, and fur sprouted.

As he fell on all fours, a triumphant howl filled the room.

Ig was grinning.

Johnny growled at Todd, who shook his head. “Not possible. This isn’t possible.” He pointed at me. “You did something.”

I shook my head emphatically side to side.

“And it didn’t affect either of us?” Hector asked. “She didn’t do anything.”

Johnny growled again, lips curling back and hackles rising.

Ig began chanting. It sounded like, “Now. Now. Now.”

Todd’s feet came under him and he stumbled backward to the wall, staring. Johnny’s haunches gathered and he leaped up onto the bed gracefully, lightly, straddling Ig, who continued chanting, “Now, now, now.” Ig lifted his arm and gripped the black wolf’s hackles, encouraging the animal toward his neck.

Johnny’s neck arched back and a mouthful of jagged teeth bared as he prepared for the strike. I didn’t want to see this. My eyes squeezed shut.

“Now, now, nnuh—”

As the wet sound of a torn throat met my ears, I pressed my face into Hector’s chest. Despite his fear of me at my previous visit, he put an arm around me comfortingly.