Hallowed Circle

Chapter 5

He was taking it all wrong! "Johnny…"

"What?" he asked. Practicing what he preached, he did not allow a single expectation to show in his expression. He was right. I did shut down if he complimented me.

"Beverley needs me to be receptive to her. She'll think I'm mad all the time if I show her nothing but blankness." That had been my experience with Nana anyway.

"First of all, Bev's not an enemy. With her, don't worry about it. And second, when she becomes a teenager, this ability will be your best ally. Trust me."

I shut my eyes when he said that word. "Trust." His fingertips, callused from years of playing the guitar, slid over my bare arm. I smelled metal again. Winter could sleep away months. Spring could sprout everything anew, but my stain would never diminish. Nothing would ever be the same. How could I tell him the truth without losing him?

My eyelids parted slightly and I nodded, watching his fingers work their way to my wrist.

"We need to start some fight training too."

My spine stiffened and I met his Wedjat gaze seriously. "I can fight."

The white-gold hoops caught the light as he arched his brow dubiously. One was still missing from where Menessos had torn it out.

"I've done my share of fighting," I assured him.

"Got a punching bag with my picture on it somewhere?"

"Not yet," I retorted. "In college."

"Oooo. Rough dates?"

This was bringing up some memories I wasn't particularly fond of, but he might as well know. "In college, I dated a man named Michael. His younger brother, Chris, was inadvertently turned waerewolf by a girlfriend he was trying to kennel. Chris was targeted by waere-haters and Michael resolved to do something about it. He enlisted my help. I used divination to evaluate risks and determine the best way to proceed, and I did the occasional spell to send negativity back to its human originator. Basically, we bullied the bullies back and they left Chris alone. It was all they would understand."

Johnny's head bobbed up and down. "That's been my experience with bullies."

"Word got around. Soon, we had all the campus waeres training together for self-defense—methods that took waere strength into consideration and made sure they wouldn't severely hurt mere humans."

"Yeah, wasn't that about the time that famous actor was outed as a waere when he defended himself a little too aggressively against the paparazzi?"

"Right. That actor ended up serving time for manslaughter. Anyway," I continued, "we even persuaded Ohio University to designate a dorm specifically for waere students and convinced those students that it was in their best interests to be together."

"But you aren't waere…"

"I took the self-defense classes along with them and I even acquired some conflict experience."

"Conflict experience?" He almost chuckled. "Sounds like a code phrase girls use for slumber parties or brownie points earned for returning home alive after shopping on Black Friday."

I poked him in the ribs again. "That's sexist."

"No, that's witty. Was this before Celia and Erik were turned?" Celia had been my roommate in college. Later, after they were married, Erik had started drumming for Johnny. That connection was how Johnny had originally started kenneling at my place.

"Yeah. Michael and I were supposed to join them on that trip, but we broke up."

Peering sidelong at me, he asked in a sly tone, "He broke up with you or you broke up with him?"

Giving my heart a quick re-examination in terms of that relationship, I decided it was all healed up. It didn't hurt to talk about it. "The former."

"Ouch. Let me guess—he was an ass."

I rolled my eyes. "Duh. Standard post-breakup verbiage."

"Anyone that would hurt you must be an ass."

He was playing with my hair again. My cheeks began to warm.

"Can I ask why you broke up?"

With a heavy sigh, I gave myself over to the idea of sharing all my history. "Michael opened a second center in downtown Athens, without a word to me about it. I told him it bothered me he would do that. I just wanted to be kept in the loop, but he took it as if I meant he needed to clear things with me. One thing led to another. Within a few weeks, we not only broke up, but he fired me. He wound up with the woman he hired to replace me."

Johnny didn't say anything, just gave my hand an affectionate squeeze.

"I've always thought that if he and I had gone camping with Celia and Erik, perhaps with our training we could have saved them from being turned."

"Or you might have become waere too."

That wasn't a thought I'd even entertain; I could have made a difference.

"If that were the case," he added, "you wouldn't have a kennel in your basement and we'd never have met."

I didn't say anything. It was true, but I couldn't be glad Celia had been turned waere so that, years later, my path and Johnny's could cross. Celia had wanted to be a mother so badly and being infected forced her to give up her dream of having children. I knew how devastating that was for her.

"So," he went on. "When were you gathering your 'conflict experience, exactly?"

Ignoring the taunt, I replied, "About four years ago."

"Have you kept up with this training?"

"No, but 'out of practice' isn't the same as 'untrained. »

Johnny leaned forward, face close to mine, eyes smoldering. "I say we should go upstairs. You can show me your moves and I'll evaluate your strengths and weaknesses."

My reply mocked innocence. "There's no room for sparring upstairs."

"Combat can happen anywhere," he whispered seductively, sliding his body closer to mine.

His waere libido howled to me, my stain, and any part of me that would listen. Heat flared all through me. My breathing sped up. I wanted him to kiss me, to take me upstairs.

Get a grip on your hormones, girl! I scolded myself, but it didn't work. Better yet, get a grip on his—

"Anywhere," he repeated. "On… hard… surfaces and soft ones. In wide open spaces, or… tight… places. You always need to be ready for an encounter." He made an «encounter» sound like a lifetime of bliss.

My resistance was kitten-weak. The only way to resolve it was to give in and see if it was me or the stain.

I could almost feel his lips on mine—

"Beverley is sleeping," Nana announced, shuffling in wearing the thick terry robe that matched her pink fuzzy slippers. Erik came in behind her.

Johnny rose quickly and in seconds, he and Erik began filling their plates.

Nana sat in the spot Johnny had vacated and rubbed at her knees. Going up and down the steps was not good for her. I needed to do something about that.

"Where did you rush off to today," she grumbled, "or are you still being all mum about it?"

"Oh, is something up?" Johnny inquired, emphasis on the word "up," as he slipped his plate into the microwave.

Nana did that on purpose—asking in front of Johnny, knowing the pressure of their combined curiosity would be impossible to stand against. Might as well tell them. "Today I was nominated to be in an Eximium for the title of Venefica Covenstead High Priestess."

"You've been what?" Nana asked, incredulous.

"You heard me," I said.

"Wait. You might get to replace Vivian? Poetic justice strikes again," Johnny quipped. "Hey." He pointed at me. "That can be your slogan. Like Batman and Robin are the Dynamic Duo, and Superman has the bullet-stopping, building-leaping intro, you can be the Lustrata, Administer of Poetic Justice."

I ignored Johnny. "The interim priestess nominated me." I didn't want to mention Lydia's name, until I knew the circumstances of Nana's estrangement from her.

"Why you? You're a solitary! Not to mention that sooner or later you're going to have to reveal yourself as the Lustrata to the council!"

She made it sound dirty. Of course her words caused Johnny to vigorously wiggle his eyebrows at me.

"Why doesn't this interim priestess just do it?" Nana demanded.

"She claims to be too old for it."

"More the reason she should lead," Nana harrumphed. "Age equals experience and nothing guides better than wise experience."

"Aside from her, the coven membership is mostly newbies and pretenders." I wasn't about to mention the current preference for youthful, telegenic coven leaders.

"Vivian's assistant—"

"Is barely twenty."

"Lord and Lady, was Vivian that ignorant?"

In response, I gave Nana a hard look. She knew the answer to that one.

She pulled her cigarette case from the deep pocket of her robe, took one out, and proceeded to light it. Her eyes searched nothing as she took a long draught and thought things through. Exhaling the smoke, she said firmly, "You can't be in this Eximium."

"Yeah, Red," Johnny added. "This may not be a good idea."

"I want to do this. I already agreed."

"Well, you will just have to get out of it," Nana said in the tone that meant her word would be the end of it.

I bristled inside but, taking Johnny's advice, I made my face blank. My brows didn't lower. My arms didn't cross over my chest. I calmly said, "I know what I'm doing."

Peeved, Nana feigned indifference. "You're the Lustrata," she muttered.

"It's under control."

Johnny frowned. With his Wedjat tattoos he looked as if he were plotting the most devious of deeds. I'd figured out, though, over the few weeks he'd been living with us, that this «evil» expression only meant his mind was racing. I was happy to see it. He was rethinking his position and giving some consideration to mine.

Then the microwave dinged and all else seemed forgotten as the waere zeroed in on his red meat. Admittedly, the roast smelled delicious. I almost wanted some.

Erik, successfully pretending that he wasn't listening, slipped behind Johnny and put his plateful of food in the microwave to heat.

Nana didn't give up. "Your duties as Lustrata would certainly be impeded by such a demanding position."

Johnny's face brightened and I knew he was thinking of a dirty remark about a "demanding position." He didn't say it aloud in front of Nana. But, Goddess help me, I thought it myself anyway.

"So," Johnny carried his plate to the dinette and sat across from me. For an instant I felt cornered and wondered if they were going to gang up on me. "What do you know that we don't, Red?"

I was grateful he phrased it that way and hoped Nana took the hint. "I'm not trying to win. In fact, I know I won't. I'm just doing it to knock out another strong contender who has the wrong attitude for the job."

"What attitude?" she asked.

"A bullying one."

"So you're bullying back?" Nana snapped.

"I didn't say it was a great and principled response, but bullies don't respond to ethical behavior. Their actions are wrong and for the wrong reasons. They're like animals about it and all they will respect is strength."

"So you're bullying back and justifying it." Another snap.

"No. I'm just going to beat her so she doesn't advance to the next round, then I'll lose in that following round."

"And it's fine for you to judge her as fit or unfit?"

So much for Nana taking hints. "She displayed it to everyone."

"That wasn't my question, Persephone."

I didn't back down. "I know what's right and what's wrong, Nana. Proceeding in this competition is the right thing to do and I'm doing it for the right reason."

"And what reason is that?"

"That coven was manipulated by Vivian. It's time that a real leader takes the reins and guides a sincere group forward, instead of someone who's power hungry and looking only to build a resume. The true practitioners will come back if a suitable leader, someone strong and smart and experienced, is in place."

"This woman you're bullying, is she not smart or experienced?"

I shrugged. "She probably is."

"Aren't bullies strong?"

"I see what you're saying, Nana, but a dictatorship isn't the way to go. Power like that corrupts. We don't need any more of that."

"So you're suggesting that to avoid forceful leadership you will subvert that leadership by force? Do you hear yourself? Leading by force works for the vampires. It works for the waeres. It worked for Vivian for a long time. Look at the Covenstead she built. Look how she used the local media to create positive hype. Look how—"

"Nana. Maybe you should compete instead of me."

She thumped her fist on the table. "I had a coven once. I'll never do that again."

Into the silence that followed I offered a humbled, "I didn't know that." Another tidbit to file away.

"If this woman wants the job and can win it, let her have it! The contest will prove whether she is worthy and will dismiss her if she isn't. Who are you to interfere, solitary?"

Around a mouthful of roast, Johnny said, "As Lustrata, she is supposed to make judgment calls."

Nana glared at him.

"Thank you," I said to him. It earned me a share in her glare.

"I'm proud of her, Demeter. Worst-case scenario," he said, "this bully beats her and becomes the high priestess anyway."

"Right. That's the worst-case scenario… a bad high priestess." Nana stood, lifted her arms, and turned her face heavenward. "Crone, open their eyes!" When her arms dramatically fell limp at her sides, she faced Johnny. "The Lustrata cannot be beaten in an Eximium! When she decides to finally share that she is the Lustrata with the Council, they'll scoff. And when she goes before the Elders as part of that competition—it's standard, they always do that—what if they realize she's marked?"

"Stained," I corrected.

"Goddess, why are you so pigheaded?" Nana almost snarled.

I was pretty sure I knew: if pigheadedness was an inherited trait then I'd inherited it from her, but pointing this out would only make this argument last longer and get us further off-subject. My mouth stayed shut.

"It's a mark, Persephone, a mark," Nana insisted. "You know as well as I do that it would compromise you. Having that authority will only entice the vampire back to your door."

I realized Johnny's spine had stiffened.

Oh, shit. I'd been outed.