Shattered Circle

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

While Demeter searched her address book and made a call, Johnny asked Mountain if he would watch Red for a while.

Mountain nodded, yawned, and leaned against the counter.

Johnny climbed the steps up to the farmhouse attic. The minute space before him had been his bedroom here. It felt smaller than it ever had before. Not that he was bigger for being the Domn Lup. More like his bright and wide-open world had deflated, constrained by the weight of his responsibilities.

He stared at the simple twin bed he’d slept in. He remembered lying on that bed bleeding after the phoenix had clawed him. Doc Lincoln couldn’t stop the blood loss, but Persephone had found a way.

She never let him down.

So much had changed since then. Life had gotten so complicated.

His gaze trailed over to the little amplifier in the corner and the guitar in the stand beside it. Almost without willing himself to move, he suddenly held the guitar in his hands, the strap was over his shoulder, and the amp was plugged in and turned on.

He played, quiet and slow, letting the sad melodies of a minor blues scale ripen and evolve on the fret board. He listened to the notes, but some piece of his mind was thinking about Red. Another piece was thinking of Plympton, and of Aurelia.

The longer his fingers worked at the song and modified it with each repeat of the progression, the more those out-of-control concerns changed from crushing white-water rapids to tranquil little waterfalls, each issue flowing individually over the edge to pool in one placid, peaceful lake. By the time he’d decided that the phrasing of the tune was perfect, his worries had each smoothed into place. He switched the amp off, unplugged the cord, and put the guitar back in the stand. When he turned, Demeter was in the doorway.

“Sounded good. Kind of took me back to my youth. I visited a dance hall or two.”

He smiled. “You?”

“It was mostly records on the jukebox, but some musicians would come in from time to time.”

“And you danced?”

“Oh yes. I could cut a rug. Jitterbug. All that shit. I was a slip of a girl then—and my knees weren’t bad. But that wasn’t dancing music you were playing. That was . . . melodious lamentations.” She crossed her arms. “There’s more going on than my granddaughter being stuck in a meditation.”

Johnny thought about denying it, but Demeter was . . . Demeter. He sat on the bed, patted the spot beside him. Her knees were probably killing her after climbing all the steps. She was a spunky old lady, not the type to give up or let things stand in her way. Not even pain. “A lot.”

She shuffled over and sat beside him.

“The damage to the house is my fault. There was a vamp here. I thought he might have something to do with her condition. He wanted to take her to the Excelsior.”

“Looks like your refusal didn’t suit him much.”

Johnny shook his head. The broken parts of the house were insignificant compared to the safety of the people he cared about, but he said, “I’ll have it all fixed.”

“I know. What else?”

He sighed and stared at the floor. “Demeter, something happened with Beverley earlier. She’s okay now as far as I know, but she slipped into a ley line. Apparently Menessos pulled her out. I haven’t had a chance to follow up on that yet.”

“She’s fey?”

Johnny looked up sharply. “Huh?”

“She’d have to have fey blood to survive a ride on the line.” As she thought that through she rubbed at her knees.

He thought of Toni—another spunky older lady who wasn’t letting pain stop her. “Demeter, there’s more. Um . . . I recently found out that before I was turned . . . I had a girlfriend and . . . ” He stood and paced toward the door. “She gave birth to my son.”

“Oh my!”

He turned around.

“Where is she now? Does Persephone know?”

“She knows I have a son, but I didn’t get to tell her anything more than that. . . . I wanted to explain but . . . ” The fingers of both hands raked through his hair, and he bumped his forearms on the low ceiling. His arms dropped to his sides. “Evan’s mother died in a car accident a few years back. His grandmother has been raising him. She recognized me on TV and sought me out. She’s dying of some kind of cancer. She only has a few months.”

“Oh my,” Demeter repeated.

“I’m having them brought to Cleveland.”

“To get her treatment?”

He shook his head. “I think her condition is beyond treatment. It’s more for their safety. . . . I don’t know who to trust anymore.” Sometimes I don’t even trust myself.

Demeter hesitated a moment, snorted, and said, “You ever hear of Aeschylus?”

“No.”

“Greek philosopher. Wrote some plays. Prometheus Bound.”

“I’ve heard of that.”

Demeter nodded. “Actually, there’s some debate over whether or not he truly wrote it, but never mind that. He lived in the city of Eleusis, where the Eleusinian Mysteries were based—that was a cult devoted to the goddess Demeter, you know that, right?”

“No, but go on.” Johnny wondered where she was going with all this.

“Well, I’m rather fond of the goddess Demeter for obvious reasons, so this guy is one that I knew a bit about once upon a time, as he was said to have been initiated into that cult. Among other things, he’s credited for having said some good things that have stood the test of time.”

He thought he knew where she was headed now. “Like?”

“Like: ‘In every tyrant’s heart there springs in the end this poison, that he cannot trust a friend.’ ”

Johnny repeated it to himself and let it roll around in his mind.

“If you let all this break you,” she said, “if you stop trusting people, you will become a tyrant.”

He straightened, standing taller. “I trust some people. Like you. But there’re so many new people that have come into my world all of a sudden. I don’t really know them. Because of my rank I don’t know if I’ll ever know the real them, if I’ll see their true motives, y’know? I don’t want to simply trust everyone and risk the people I care about getting hurt.”

Demeter stood before him with all the ferocity of a lioness in her eyes. “My granddaughter has been nearly killed how many times since she got involved with you and that vampire?”

Johnny’s chin dropped shamefully.

“Right now she’s stuck in a meditation downstairs. You”—she poked him in the chest—“were here. I bet she saw Menessos tonight, too. He resides an hour away.” She shuffled a step forward. Johnny eased a step back. “He is accustomed to the night, and more than normal stress.” She gained another few inches on him, and Johnny retreated again. “He can use magic. He could probably have fixed this . . . but you called me. I had to get my ass out of bed in the middle of the night and come home to fix this.”

Johnny could say nothing. She was right.

Demeter put her hands on her hips. “Hate him if you have to, Johnny. Hate him because he wants her and you feel threatened by that. But trust him, damn it. You three have to trust each other if any of you hope to survive this.”

She brushed past him and headed down the steps.

Johnny followed. “Hey, I didn’t mean to piss you off.”

“You didn’t.” On the second floor, she walked into Red’s bedroom and lifted a tray off the bed. Demeter had obviously gathered some spell supplies from Red’s stock. She must have come up to the attic after listening to him play awhile.

He followed her into the bedroom. “But—”

Demeter turned with the tray in her hands. “I’m not angry with you for calling me or bringing me here. Am I tired? Yes. Cranky? Hell, yes. I want to be here, but you didn’t think about who else was at your disposal. Or did you? Did you decide you didn’t want him to come to the rescue?”

Johnny admitted, “I didn’t even consider him.”

Demeter pushed the tray at him. “You carry this. You’re steadier than I am.”

“Your knees okay? You want me to go first so you can hold my arm?”

“I’m fine,” she grumbled and descended the main stairs, gripping the handrail tight. Near the bottom, where the rail was broken, she paused and moved closer to the wall and let her hand slide along it to steady herself.

When she reached the bottom she stepped around the hole in the floor and looked back up at him. “C’mon.” She waved. “You better help Mountain get this mess cleaned up before the others get here.”

“If they’re coming from Cleveland we have an hour.”

She snorted again. “You can put the pedal to the metal in that race car of yours all you want, young man, but a broomstick will beat you every time.”