Hallowed Circle

Chapter 19

Trying not to think about the story of Pandora, I sat my box on the floor and slid the key inside. The others were trying to open theirs while standing, but Maria saw me and mumbled, "Good idea," and knelt down to do as I was doing. To me, it was a precaution against anything jumping out at me. Hunter and Amber followed suit and placed their selections on the pine floor before turning their keys.

We glanced at each other to affirm we were ready to lift the lids "as one."

The candlelight would not illumine much, so I cautiously turned the box away, hinges toward me. With it backward, I slowly opened the lid to reveal—

"A scroll," Maria said.

"They're all scrolls," Hunter affirmed.

Desdemona cleared her throat daintily, then said:

"On the parchment, rolled and sealed

Find a truth that cannot be revealed—

Though the vampires will use wiles and wit

In hopes you will give in and surrender it.

Also there is sound advice

Adhere, and it may suffice

To help you obfuscate, twist, confound

And see you through this wicked round.

Test order is dictated by the brass token.

Bring your scrolls, with seals unbroken."

Lydia asked, "Numbers?"

"One," I said, holding up my key. Hunter would follow me, then Maria, then Amber.

Lydia handed each contestant a length of white yarn. "For your key," she said. "Vampires and Persephone, if you would follow me. The rest of you, I will return momentarily to lead you below."

Scroll tucked under my arm, I looped the string through the key and tied it around my neck as I walked behind Lydia. She took up a candelabrum with three tapers as she started down the stairs, and lit the way. We went into the conference room of the office. "Persephone, you remain in the hall a moment." She led the vampires into the conference room, lit enough candles around the room so that it was almost bright, then exited and shut the door behind her.

"Your scroll," she asked, hand out.

I gave it to her. She inspected the seal, though I hadn't had time to read it since opening the chest. I grinned at her.

"What?" she asked.

"That's an awfully by-the-book inspection for someone who suckered me into this whole thing."

"Gobbledygook." She handed the scroll back. "When I leave, break the seal, open it, and read." She spoke as she lit a pair of tea lights in decorative lanterns hanging in the hall. "You have a few minutes to gather your thoughts and form a plan, but get in there quick as you dare. Keep the scroll with you; don't let them see it. There's a hint written at the bottom. Unroll the scroll and hold your hand over the end of the page. Heat activates the ink." She patted my arm. "This night has been more dangerous and deadly than I ever imagined." There was an apology in her eyes, but it remained unspoken. "Blessed be," she said.

"Thank you, Lydia." I took her hand and squeezed.

Then she left.

Tapers illuminate much better than tea lights. The short hall dimmed into near darkness without Lydia's candelabrum. After a fleeting thought of whether Holly could possibly be lurking nearby—a thought I scolded myself for having—I cracked the seal and unrolled the scroll and held it near the lanterns.

It read:

Scene:

A coven member, high-ranking, has been hit with various misfortunes lately: her husband died, she lost her job, she has a disease that requires expensive drugs that she cannot pay for without a job and insurance. She contracted with vampires to make blood donations regularly in exchange for cash. Even then, she has been forced to skip doses of her medication to make it last longer. The vampires have ceased accepting her blood. The medicine is «tainting» it. As the vampires have advanced her money, she now owes them and cannot pay. She has a five-year-old daughter.

Secret:

The coven member has been told her disease is worsening, and she will die in a few months.

Unrolling it fully, I held it against the wall and pressed my hand over the lower section. The words faded into view.

Hint:

MAY

CATCH

OYSTER

ECLAT

What kind of cryptic, hellish hint was this?

I reheated and reread that last part three times. I read it backward, I tried rearranging the letters of each word to make other words. «May» could mean «possibilities» or the month of May. «Catch» could imply its literal meaning, catching a ball or a cold, or it could mean mentally understanding. «Oyster» made no sense to me, but «eclat» meant reputation, acclaim, so maybe they went together, insinuating the oyster's reputation for libido enhancement. All in all, these clues made my head hurt.

Putting my game face on, I went into the conference room remembering how collected Hunter had been when confronting Lehana about her magic and the vinculum, and hoping I could convincingly exude that level of confidence.

I scanned the room. Sever seemed at ease in a chair with his feet propped on the table between candles. Heldridge paced, shrouded in shadows, at the far end of the table, while Menessos held a small candle close to a framed painting on the wall. He appeared to be studying it. Even without his awareness centered on me, his proximity created a reaction that warmed my body in a way that could have been comforting if not for my aversion to being manipulated.

"Gentlemen—"

I politely called them each by name, intentionally mispronouncing "Menessos." Didn't want these others, or the Elders watching, to think I knew him at all. "What can I do for you?" I asked, keeping my eyes on their chins.

Heldridge came from the shadows toward me. "One of your witches owes me."

The brighter light made the angles of his face harsher. "Who?"

He smirked. "We'll call her Ann."

"What is it that Ann owes you?"

"Blood, money, or some combination of the two."

He was going to play his role as "intimidating," so I sat opposite Sever and relaxed into the seat. My role was going to be "unaffected." Hard to do with Menessos in the room, but I was going to do my best and get through this without delay. "And you have discussed this with her?"

"Of course." Heldridge looked down his nose at me. "I wouldn't be here if I were satisfied."

Looking down at me did not reinforce his attempt to intimidate. As our roles went, this was the high priestess's territory, and therefore my place he was invading. I had to be comfortable. Cocky, even. And I could do cocky. "And you came to me for your satisfaction. I'm flattered."

"I want my money!"

Most people who expose their anger expect a similar emotional response. Instead, I smiled sweetly. "I'm not a banker. Did you misread the sign on the door?"

Heldridge growled and ran a hand over his head. It messed up the trio of tendrils on his brow.

"Miss," Sever put his feet down and leaned across the table. "My friend here has a contract with… Ann. She's not upholding her end of the deal." Sever seemed like a good ol' boy. Not pompous or elegant, but he didn't lack sophistication. "It's simple, really."

"If it were simple, Sever, you wouldn't be in my office. What is it you expect me to do about this illicit little arrangement between private citizens?"

The two of them exchanged glances; Menessos continued examining the art.

"Ahhh," I said. "There's a business involved."

Heldridge slid a hand into his pocket. "My club. The Blood Culture."

"Apt name."

"Of course. It's easily reached from both the Cleveland Clinic and University Hospitals."

I held up a hand. "Let me guess—a lot of nurses are donors?"

"On their way home. Very convenient."

I said, "You don't want police involved, but you want my help in getting you what you want." I paused. "Perhaps you should explain this more fully. What kind of arrangement did you contract with Ann?"

Heldridge barked, "Details aren't necessary." He turned away from me, back to the darkness.

"You are afraid to tell me the details? Why? Are you afraid I will tell the police?" I tapped my cheek. "Perhaps they'll shut your business down?"

"They wouldn't dare! If the blood-drinkers in this town don't drink with me, people die. The cops wouldn't risk what would occur if my doors didn't open!"

I was willing to bet that most of this, except the «Ann» part, was true. Heldridge probably did have a club and nurses probably did donate.

"You're missing the point," Menessos said quietly.

His voice stroked me physically, as if he'd breathed warmly into my ear. I ignored it as best I could. Time was a factor in this test. "Spit it out, Heldridge," I insisted as I stood and approached him. "What do you want from me?"

"I want you to take your witch, straighten her out, and sober her up so we can take her blood as contracted!"

That wasn't possible. But his demand showed they didn't know that the taint was disease and drugs, not booze. With affected cynicism, I said, "You want me to take her to rehab?"

"Or she gives me my money back!"

"So you prepaid for her blood?" Devil-deals like this didn't surprise me at all. I readily believed they did shit like this all the time.

"Quarter of a pint, every other Friday, for the next year."

Was that safe? Not that they would care. But fictitious Ann didn't have a year to live. They weren't getting paid, either way. "A quarter pint every other Friday isn't going to send a slew of vampires into the night searching for victims."

"No, but I can." Heldridge's threat was convincing.

Sever cut in, "Vampires party on the weekend like everyone else, doll. Our drinks don't come off the beer truck in boxes full of pretty-labeled bottles. We have to make arrangements. The demanding thirst never wanes. So if supply wanes, we act."

"It's business," Heldridge added, straightening his tie to match his ramrod posture. "Usually, the living get to live on unhindered."

If it were legitimate business, he could put a lien on her property if she had any, as if she were a contractor who didn't do the work she was paid to do. But it wasn't legitimate; though I'd bet if I researched it I could find this kind of situation covered in new legislation on the dockets. A degree in business would probably have provided me some ideas on this too.

"Perhaps," I suggested, "you should just write this off your taxes as a bad debt." I knew something about writing off losses.

"I told you," Heldridge sneered, "I seek satisfaction. An accountant's solution won't satisfy me."

"Sometimes, in business, you take a loss."

"I don't lose!" he seethed.

"Rehab is not the answer. First, it takes time. Second, she may not dry out. And, if she does, she might fall off the wagon." I folded my fingers together. "I'm betting you already have a solution that will satisfy you in mind. But you don't want to say it, you want to steer me toward it so you can agree with me when it becomes my idea." I paused. "I don't have time for that. And I'm not easily led, Heldridge, so quit wasting everyone's night. Just spill it."

"Spill it?" He reached for my throat, stopped inches away when I neither flinched nor blinked. "Spilling your blood might satisfy me."

"But that wouldn't profit you."

He grabbed my throat and squeezed. "It isn't always about profit!"

Menessos was suddenly there, throwing Heldridge to the floor.