Wicked Circle

CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

Mero, Ailo, and Talto were being given a tour of the haven by Menessos. “And concluding our little tour, this is the Haven, with a capital H. There is already a national buzz about this nightclub, and it is expected to become a destination for those who would seek a place in our nocturnal culture.”

Mero was impressed. “It will support the entire group?”

“We believe so. There will be plenty of job openings for my . . . I mean for Goliath’s Offerlings and Beholders there, as well as at The Blood Culture.”

“What is that?” Ailo asked.

“It was Heldridge’s brainchild. An ingenious combination of business and strategy, The Blood Culture is a bar located between the Cleveland Clinic and University Hospitals. It is also right on the Health Line, a designated transit that connects them. Local healthcare professionals supplement their income by giving blood, as do the many area college students. Then the bar sells it to the local vampires.”

“Do they cater to a mortal clientele as well?” she asked.

“Of course.”

“And your local government does not object?” Mero asked.

“Only the local Red Cross was bothered. We made a deal with them. They have their people collect the blood, and we donate half of it to them. We had a surplus anyway.”

A silence lingered, and Menessos gestured them out of the construction zone and back into the haven. “Do you mind if I make a call?” Mero asked, getting out his cell phone and putting it to his ear. “My reception isn’t the best below.”

“Indeed,” Menessos said. “Ladies.” He gestured again, and they preceded him to the stairwell. The elevator dinged and opened as they started down.

“There you are,” Giovanni exclaimed. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

Mero kept his phone at his ear, as if he were continuing to talk to someone, even though he’d halted his call when he spotted Giovanni. He listened as Menessos asked, “What can I help you with, Giovanni?”

“Not you. Meroveus.” Giovanni spotted him and aimed his course right for him.

“I’ll call you back,” Mero said and shut his phone.

“Yes?”

Giovanni opened his mouth and shut it again.

“What is it?” Mero asked.

“I need a favor.”

It evidently cost him to say the words, so Mero responded benevolently. “What is wrong?”

“I loathe the paperwork of a haven. I am no businessman. And I am no mediator, either. I am a warrior, I settle disputes by killing my enemy. And I now long to slay both the masters of the Columbus and the Cincinnati havens.”

“But of course you cannot. What can I do?”

“Talk to the Excelsior. Have him revoke my status as Interim Quarterlord and call me back to Washington.”

Mero put a hand on Giovanni’s shoulder. “I will see what I can do.”

After speaking with his son, Mero returned to the lower levels of the haven. Just as he drew near to Mark, who was again guarding the door of Menessos’s private rooms, Seven came running, her phone in her hand. Mark kept Mero back with one thick arm and opened the door for Seven smoothly with the other. She entered without breaking stride.

Mero and Mark crowded the doorway behind her.

“Boss. Just got a call.”

“And?”

“Privately?” She flicked a glance toward the sisters.

“Outside.”

Mero and Mark backed up. Seven and Menessos left next. Mark shut the door.

“Well?” Menessos asked.

“One of the Beholders on patrol spotted Liyliy entering a convenience store. Said she was filling a basket with candy bars.”

Menessos grabbed her arms. “Where?”

“I’ve called for your car to be brought. I’ll explain on the way there.” She led him away.

Mark remained by the door, but Mero followed. Menessos held his stomach, jogging to keep up with Seven, who said, “I have the Beholder’s location—are you all right?”

“Yes. Please continue.”

“I have the location. I sent a call for everyone else to form a grid, stationed on every street corner expanding away from her location so we can register her movements in any direction.”

“Seven, I could kiss you.”

“Save them for her, boss.”

Menessos gave a snort. “You must quit calling me that.”

Seven flashed him a smile as she ran. “Never.”