Vicious Circle

Chapter 20

You’re going to wear a rut in the floor,” Nana said from the dinette table in the kitchen.

It was twelve-forty. Time was snailing by, and my nervous energy found an outlet in pacing the long hallway from the kitchen, past the steps, and to the front door and back. Moving not only kept me busy, but it kept my mind off my rumbling stomach. I had to fast until the ritual was over.

The vampires had retreated to the interior of the limo, but it remained idling in my drive. Dr. Lincoln—who had left, gotten some more sleep, checked some animal patients, and returned—was monitoring Theo, preparing to feed her through the tube in anticipation of her coming transformation. Johnny sat on my couch, calmly engrossed in something on the Food Channel. Beverley was dozing on the opposite end of the couch. Nana was just rousing from a nap.

Presently, Celia and Erik returned from giving Vivian a bathroom break. Celia, like the doc, had expressed concern for Vivian, so we switched out the soppy dishcloth gag for a fresh and dry bandanna. I even conceded to putting a pillow on the seat of her chair. I thought that was big of me, but Celia showed me the “burns” Vivian had on her wrists from the clothesline, so I added some padding and had the guys reposition her in the chair. As far as I was concerned, that was as comfortable as Vivian needed to get.

Wondering what it said about me that I was less appalled by Vivian’s torturous restraints than the wæres were, I paced to the door and peered out at the limo.

Johnny rose from the couch and came to the doorway. “What is it?”

“If all goes well and Theo’s transformed, then I am going to give Vivian over to the vampires.”

“So?”

“So if the others are worried about her being uncomfortable here, they definitely won’t like that.”

I paced back to the kitchen. He followed. I said, “The way I figure it, she messed with them first. They’d have caught her eventually anyway.”

“You’re probably right.”

My mouth opened, ready to say something else, but I suddenly felt…something…and stopped.

“Red?”

I didn’t answer, trying to figure out what it was. Similar to the alarm in my head, it was something, but not a break-in or trespassing.

“What is it?” he asked again.

I glanced about the room. Everyone was here except the doc, Theo and—

“Beverley.”

I ran down the hall. From the doorway, I saw that my living room window was open. “No!” If the vampires had lured her out—

With Johnny at my heels, I flung open the door. In the dim light from the open car door, Beverley stood before Goliath, who leaned against the rear quarter panel of the limo.

I bolted without considering that I was leaving the safety of my home and its perimeter wards behind.

“Red!” Johnny called after me. He’d stopped on the edge of the porch. “Red!”

“Beverley!”

She faced me. If she had been bespelled, she wouldn’t have been able to do that. “Seph, I have to know,” she said as I neared and slowed.

Menessos slid from the seat, but left his door open. I stopped a few paces away, glad to hear Johnny coming up behind me. “Know what?”

Beverley turned back to Goliath. “Did you? Did you kill my mother?”

The vampire lowered himself to one knee before her and took her hands in his. It was such a gentle and humble and caring human gesture; I could hardly believe my eyes.

“Why would you think that?” he asked. He faced me, and I saw anger rising hot and swift. He stood, releasing her hands. “You told her this?”

Johnny caught up to us, and Erik was swiftly running to join us also. I stood firm. “Vivian claims that you are the murderer.”

Goliath and Menessos exchanged a look. It wasn’t an “oh-no-they-know” look. It was the “she’s-such-a-bitch” look that had—in reference to Vivian—passed over the faces of everyone in my house at one time or another in the last twenty-four hours, so I recognized it well.

“Red?” Johnny prompted.

“That’s why you were checking my background,” Goliath snapped.

Before I could respond, Beverley blurted, “Vivian hired her to kill you.”

Goliath laughed. “Hired you to get yourself killed.”

Beverley grabbed his coat in both hands. “Did you kill my mother?” Her voice was taut, her eyes glistening with tears about to fall.

He turned back to her and again wrapped his hands over hers. “Of course not. I loved your mother. You know that.”

Seeing Goliath being downright parental gave me a chill. Menessos stepped closer to me; Johnny and Erik countered, growling, but the vampire was unaffected by them. “You’ve been conned into the middle of a fight that isn’t yours, Persephone,” Menessos said. Though I was keeping my eyes from his, I knew he was staring at me, his expression one of someone admiring a painting or ancient vase. It creeped me out.

“I don’t understand.”

“Lorrie was killed for nothing more than petty jealousy.” His tone was neutral. “Over Goliath. In order to shame Lorrie’s memory with media coverage and hysteria and to further slur the wæres of the world, the killer left those symbols on the wall.”

Of course they were going to point the finger elsewhere.

Then it hit me.

“Jealousy?” I repeated. All my blood dropped to the soles of my feet. “Then you know who killed Lorrie?” If the motive had been jealousy, it could only have been one person. It had been in front of me the whole time. The newspaper said symbols were drawn on Lorrie’s walls…but she said “occult symbols” at the coffee shop. She’d only know that if she drew them…

“I do,” he said. “She must have believed you would be able to surprise Goliath enough to distract him, and thereby injure him or get a fortunate shot,” Menessos muttered.

“Never,” Goliath affirmed with sinister quiet.

“But if she was jealous, why hire me to kill the one she was jealous over?”

“An offering,” Goliath said, then added with disquieting calm: “She would send you to me as a make-up gift, and once I had had you, bled you, and knew why you had come, I would have to thank her.”

I wasn’t buying that. She’d spent too much money and was too Council-hungry.

Beverley said, “Who did it? Who?” She left Goliath and grabbed Menessos’s arm. “Who?”

“Can you prove it?” I asked. I didn’t want to be duped twice, even if their claim and my recollection made it logical.

“I do not have to,” Menessos said.

I squared my shoulders and met his gaze. “Yes, you do.”

He smiled smugly. “Ask her. Confront her. She will not deny it. She’s too proud of her work to not claim the credit for it once the ruse is revealed.”

“Who?” Beverley pleaded and tugged at his arm.

Menessos faced her after a mildly distasteful glance at her hand on his arm. “Vivian. Vivian murdered your mother, child.”

Beverley became utterly still. I wanted to touch her, comfort her, but she looked so fragile, it seemed any touch might shatter her. She whispered, “They gave me to her. My mom trusted her!” She turned slowly to the house.

Johnny and I shared a look. We didn’t know what to say or do. Were the vampires lying? Maybe. But if not, I wanted to turn Vivian over to them now and be done with it. Beverley couldn’t be expected to stay in the same house as her mother’s killer—

Beverley had slipped away from us and was already halfway to the house. “Beverley, no!” I shouted. Johnny ran after her, but even with his long legs and speed, he couldn’t get to her before she dashed inside.

I followed, Erik behind me. It wasn’t that I was faster than he, just that he kept himself between me and the vampires. Inside, I stopped in the kitchen beside Johnny. Beverley was standing before Vivian, hands clenched at her sides as she glowered at our prisoner. Slowly she reached up and took down the gag.

“I know what you did,” the little girl whispered. “You murdered my mother.” As she spoke, she wrenched the bandanna-gag in her hand, tightening it around Vivian’s neck. I moved to step in, but Johnny put an arm out to stop me. Nana and Celia had stopped what they were doing when the girl had run in. They now sat staring, shocked silent at what she just said.

“I was sleeping in the next room while you painted the wall with her blood!” Beverley continued. Vivian’s mouth worked soundlessly; she was turning purple. “You were supposed to be her friend!” She let go of the bandanna and hit Vivian hard with a balled-up fist. “And you took me in! Why? Why would you bother to take me in if you hated my mother so much?”

Wheezing, Vivian slowly brought her head around. For a second I thought of The Exorcist and wondered if that evil-looking face was going to go all the way around. Vivian said, “It would have been suspicious not to.”

Beverley slowly backed away, then turned and ran.

Even after Menessos’s claim, I had expected Vivian to deny it. She started laughing.

I stalked over, put the gag back, and left. Upstairs, I went to Dr. Lincoln. “Fix me a dose of morphine, enough to knock Vivian out and keep her out.”

He gaped at me, dumbfounded.

“Now,” I said, teeth clenched.

He moved into action, started filling a syringe. “I’m not sure of the dose.”

“Your best guess, Doctor.”

“Here.” He handed me a syringe with triple what we gave Theo.

“Thank you.” In the kitchen, I jerked the safety cap off and threw it. Taking a handful of Vivian’s hair, I steadied her head and jabbed the needle viciously into the vein in her neck.

“Shit, Seph!” Celia whispered.

Vivian sucked air sharply through her nose.

“I thought you’d be used to having sharp, pointy things in your neck,” I snarled as I depressed the plunger slowly.

She’d revealed to everyone that I’d taken her money to assassinate a vampire. Now everyone knew she was the killer.

“I agreed to kill for justice—there’s at least some merit in that. But you—you killed for jealousy and spite. Now I can’t wait to give you to them.”

Vivian’s eyes went wide and she tried to complain or plead or something, but her head just dropped forward.

I threw the empty syringe into the trash and turned to leave.

“You’d better empty out your room,” Nana said. “So there’s space to make the circle.”

Her words made my stomping steps halt. One life had already been taken, and justice would be served one way or another. But a second life waited. I’d forgotten that. “Yeah,” I agreed, anger washing out of me. “I want to check on Beverley first; then I’ll see to it the room’s ready.”

“I’ll check on the girl,” she said, rising stiffly from the table. “You tend to your room.”

Johnny put a hand on my shoulder. “Let us move the furniture—you just supervise,” he said. A mere mortal with substandard strength, I would only be in a wærewolf’s way. And since I couldn’t eat until after the ritual, I was feeling sleepy and low. A glance at the clock told me we had about an hour and fifteen minutes to go. Johnny and Erik followed me to my room and asked, “Where do you want everything?”

“Everything” included a dresser and side tables. “In Nana’s room or the hallway.”

They moved the dresser out into the far end of the upstairs hall. Then they came back and Erik went for the far bedside table while Johnny unplugged the lamp on the nearer one. He picked up my side table with everything on it.

“Hey. Be careful with that picture. The hinge is loose on the back.”

“Right,” he said, assessing it. “Who is it?”

“My dad.”

He started to say something but stopped. Nana came in. “The child is resting.”

“Goddess, she’s been through so much.”

Nana patted my arm. “Don’t worry so much for her. Children often cope better than adults.” She paused as Erik excused himself around her. “They have the ability to accept things more easily because they’re growing and learning and everything is always changing with them anyway. It’s when we stop growing and stop learning that we start forgetting how to ride with the changes.”

“I understand what you’re saying, Nana, but she lost her mother. It’s not like she’s just changing schools or some individual thing is changing. It’s everything.”

Her hand withdrew slowly. “I suppose you know what that’s like.”

Focusing on her steadily, I said, “I do.”

“I can see inner strength burning bright in that young girl’s eyes. She’s going to be just fine.”

“I hope so.”

“I’m sorry I missed it in your eyes. I’m sure the evidence of your strength was there, I just…I wasn’t looking.”

I didn’t know what to say.

Nana smiled. “I better get back to my own preparations.”

I strolled to Theo’s right side, where I would stand for the ritual, and looked up through the skylights. Not yet. My attention turned to Theo, and I took her hand. “I’ll do all I can,” I whispered.

Erik and Johnny came back in.

“You’re sure this won’t make the rest of us change too?” Erik asked.

“I’m sure.” My voice sounded weary.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, Seph. I do. We all do, or we wouldn’t be doing this. It’s just that I can’t seem to wrap my head around how witches do what they do.”

“It’s not any different from how you guys change back and forth. I mean, the light of the sun shines on the whole surface of an orbiting heavenly body, which reflects that light, triggering something inside of you, and your entire physical body changes. Not because of a Jekyll-and-Hyde potion, not because of technology or a spoken power word. Because of the volume of sunlight reflected into the darkness. It is magic.”

“I gotta write that down,” Johnny whispered. “I can make lyrics out of that.”

“Why doesn’t it initiate partial changes, then, when it’s not full but still shining?” Erik asked.

“Because it’s not the whole surface, it’s not magic. Moonshine isn’t enough to change you or even start a change. But there is a universal reaction, an elemental and magical reaction, when the entire face of the lunar surface is reflecting. It’s like it amplifies a hundredfold because everything is in place to allow it.”

“When you put it like that, I do kind of get it,” he said.

“Persephone,” Nana called from the bottom of the stairs.

“Yeah?” I went into the hall, my thoughts for her knees. I hoped she wasn’t climbing the stairs again, especially this late. We were all so tired.

“We have a problem. You better come down here.”

It didn’t surprise me when Johnny followed me. Nana returned to the kitchen dinette and sat before the book. Her finger traced over a section and she said, “I was going through the ritual one last time to determine everyone’s position. There are differences depending on what the change is meant for—defense, offense, other purposes. In this instance, as it is meant to heal, I thought this said”—she followed the lines with her fingertips—“‘The one who is familiar with the situation asks the injury to be given favor.’ But your veterinarian walks through as I’m talking to myself, and he says I’m wrong. I asked him to look over the passage and he interprets it as—” She gestured for Dr. Lincoln to take over.

“The root word is pecco, so that is ‘to do wrong’ here, then here: venia, ‘pardon’ or ‘forgive’—”

“Hey Doc, hold the Latin and try it in plain English,” Johnny said.

“It means,” the doctor said, “that Goliath must be present during the ritual and ask Theo to forgive him.”

The emotion in the room sank in the silence that followed. My heart and my hope for Theo sank with it.

“You’re saying in order to save Theo, we have to get the vamp asshole who did this to her to participate in the ritual to heal her,” Johnny grumbled.

“That’s how I read it,” the doc shrugged.

“My Latin is rusty,” said Nana. “He minored in Latin at OSU. Trust his interpretation.” She looked at me like she was going to be sick.

“I thank you for that, Demeter,” Dr. Lincoln said, “but my education didn’t cover local dialects and distinctions that witch Latin or even medieval Latin might be laden with.”

“You’re all missing the point,” I stressed. “We can’t move Theo. To do this means I have to ask the vampire to enter my home.” Damn! That was, literally, a violating thought.

The collective sigh that followed thickened the gloom. Silence followed. Celia ventured, “Well, that’s stupid.”

“What?”

“You can’t have a vampire in your ritual anyway. They’re dead.”

“Actually,” Nana said, “they are not.”

“What?” Johnny, Erik, and I said it almost simultaneously.

“For the night hours, they’re alive,” Nana stated.

“They’re just reanimated,” I said. “It’s not the same thing.”

“Isn’t it?” Nana said.

Tension suddenly replaced the defeated feeling in the room. “Explain.”

“The living dead, Persephone. You saw how Goliath treated the girl. He’s a conscious creature for the night hours. At the very least, a vampire’s brain stem functions. Maybe we all need to look at them differently, if just for tonight. See them as the cursed people they are.” She gestured at the book. “Cursed by the sun—cursed to die every single day, to lose the reassurance of the warmth of sunlight on their faces. Cursed people, but people nonetheless.”

“People who eat other people,” I insisted.

“No,” Johnny said softly. “It’s wæres who will actually eat other people. Vamps only drink the blood.”

I rubbed my forehead. Getting the vampires to help was not what I wanted to do. But I had no time. Theo had no time. “The problem,” I said, “is this: I’ll have to give up the very thing defending us. I’ll have to ask them to enter.”

“Only Goliath,” Johnny said.

“And once he’s in, all he has to do is invite his master, so I might as well ask them both and hope that my courtesy wins me some brownie points.” No one argued with that. “And once I’ve uttered those powerful words, once I ask them into my home, there’s nothing stopping them from simply coming in, taking Vivian and the book, and leaving.”