Fatal Circle (26 page)

“You’re Johnny’s witch girlfriend?” came an irritated but lilting voice behind me. Sounded like she wasn’t sure if she was making an accusation or asking a question.

It was one of the women who’d been dancing on the bar. The other dancer clung to her to keep from falling off the bar. As they both faced me, I realized they were twins.

Sammi and Cammi Harding, bank heiresses. They were the ones who had pawed Johnny after Lycanthropia’s set at the Rock Hall showcase. “I didn’t recognize you without your leather pom-poms.”

The one who’d spoken put her arms out and stepped off the bar. The men nearby caught her and made sure she had her feet under her. Her sister toppled down with less grace but the men helped her, as well. The first pushed her way through the crowd and gave me the once-over.

The two of them were identical physically, but they didn’t dress exactly alike and they displayed different personalities. This one was more aggressive and I pegged her as the one who had planted the lip-lock on Johnny.

She exuded only contempt, until she spied the boots. I recognized the covetous gaze of a window-shopper. “Bet you’re almost his height in those.”

Her sister stumbled up behind her. Her mascara was smeared at one end and she could hardly stand. “Oooo. Pretty. Bitch to walk in, aren’t they?”

“Where’s Johnny?”
And where is Menessos, for that matter?

The first sister bared her teeth; it was too vicious to be a smile. “Busy.”

I’d read some puppy manuals when Nana got Ares. Maintaining eye contact was always key and using firm, low tones was important for reprimanding inappropriate behavior, so I did both. “Get him for me.”

“Eat shit.”

The bank heiress has a foul mouth?
I knew better than to back down. She was trying to assert her dominance over me. “Now.”

“Or you’ll what? Spank me with a newspaper?”

A man in the crowd growled, “I’ll spank you, Cammi.”

She ignored him. So did I.

“Don’t make me rub your nose in it.”
Oh, for a waere-safe charm that would make her pee herself right now.
If I had known a spell for spontaneous incontinence, one that wouldn’t send her into a partial change, it would have been impossible to resist using it. Pressing her face to this grimy floor would leave no doubt of my dominance. Trouble was, if I did that, the rest of the pack would likely jump on my back and do worse to me. Tactically, I needed to posture more aggressively than she did.

A deep, deep growl erupted beside us. Cammi looked away first, as a huge black wolf leaped onto the bar and stalked down the length of it.

Johnny.

Cheers rose up around the bar. “Hail the Domn Lup!” People held their beverages aloft. The people crowded around me were mostly without their beer cans and shot glasses, so pumped their fists in the air. Johnny lifted his muzzle to the sky and howled loud and long. His cry ended to more drinking, shouting, and fist pumping.

Cammi thrust herself into my personal space and said, “With all that he is, he deserves a pack bitch, a
haita catea,
not a
sange stricata
like you . . . blood whore.”

A pair of women nearby heard and gasped, then burst into laughter. They were laughing at me. As I stood in The Dirty Dog, dressed in taped-on clothes and glossy red boots, after everyone saw Menessos drinking from me broadcast on TV and online, did I have any right to be surprised?

Moving forward, pushing into Cammi’s personal space, I put myself nose to nose with her. The move brought an end to the cheers around us as ears strained to hear. I could smell the bourbon on her breath. “He chooses to spend his time with me, so you’re going to have to find another bone to chew—but remember this: ‘all that he is’ has gone unnoticed. You and this pack are only aware of the truth now because he is
allowing
you to know. And there’s a reason I knew first.”

She tried to slap me. From the bar, Johnny barked and snarled. I caught her wrist and held it. Either I was able to restrain her because she was half drunk or his reaction had stopped her. It didn’t matter which, really; it reminded me that waerewolves only respect the power that dominates them.

“Give me a reason,” I shouted. A challenge.

She jerked free of my grip and in doing so compromised her tenuous balance. She backpedaled. “Don’t threaten this pack!”

With her small retreat, the scales had just tipped in my favor. I took up the distance. “I’m
not
threatening the pack! I simply came to speak to Johnny and you’re threatening
me
. I won’t tolerate it.”

She recognized the concession inherent in her move was a mistake and tried to correct it by planting her feet. But it was too late. She’d given ground and I’d taken it. “If you try a spell, witch, you’ll be dead before you can call enough energy to damage us all.”

“I don’t intend to ‘damage’ anybody, but if you don’t get out of my face, whatever the consequence, I
guarantee
you’ll be a half-formed bitch. You’d probably be more likable that way.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Johnny’s hand encircled my arm. I hadn’t detected the
whoosh
of power as he’d reverted to man form.

He pulled me away from Cammi and led me toward the back. People scurried to make way for us, well, for him. “Out,” he said to the few waeres milling around this room. He guided me near the door.

I stared through the glass, focusing on the mesh in the screen door. A loose weaving of wire. “
And there she weaves by night and day a magic web.”
I thought the lines from Tennyson’s poem. Orderly little empty squares on the screen, but trapezoids in a spider’s web. One kept the flies out; the other trapped them for nourishment. My life needed a screen door to keep out the bugs, but what I had was a web. I didn’t see how all these things that were sticking to it were supposed to nourish me.

My rage back in the bar, I realized, was my grief, my fear and loss and pain hunting for a way out. It couldn’t stay bottled inside, but I didn’t intend to give it a release through violence, either. Now, almost alone with Johnny, those tears burned again.
Damn it, I’m not going to cry.

“Red?”

“Yeah.” I returned from my weary, zoned-out state. Johnny stood beside me, naked.

“Don’t let her get to you.”

“It’s not her.” I clenched my jaw to steel myself.

He must’ve thought I was angry. “Hey, I’m glad you came back”—he tweaked my cheek—“but this isn’t the best place for you right now.”

“I know, but I had to come. I had to tell you.”
You can say these words. You can do it without tears.

“Tell me what?”

I blurted, “Xerxadrea’s dead.”

“What?” His jaw dropped, then his arms encircled me.

Again, the tears threatened to come. Not here. The waerewolves would hear sobbing. They’d never respect sobbing. “After we buried Aquula, the fairies attacked.”

He jerked back and examined me again. “You’re all right?”

“I’m fine. I’m fine because Xerxadrea sacrificed herself.”

The tears won. I pressed my face into his naked chest and he held me so tight. I squeezed my reaction, being as silent as I could, telling myself this was just a little overflow.
Let a little spill out and then I can seal them off again. That’s not all I need to tell him about.

A moment later, in his safe arms, I found the strength to staunch the waterworks, quashing tears down hard. On to the bigger thing we had to deal with. “Johnny, she was working on a plan, but whatever strategy she had, left with her.” I wiped my face with my hands. His embrace diminished but he didn’t fully let me go. I went on, “We have about thirty hours to come up with something. I know you have to be here, to let the waerewolves mourn, but . . .”

“They mourned Ig for about a half an hour. That”—he gestured to the bar—“is a celebration of being the pack that can claim the Domn Lup.”

The drinking and dancing made more sense now. I nodded.

“I’ll come back to the haven as soon as I can, okay?”

There were so many other things I needed to tell him right now, but they would keep a little longer. I didn’t want to pass through the waerewolf throng again, so I reached for the knob of the back door. “I’ll go this way, and walk around.”

“I’d go with you but it’s cold and I don’t know where my jeans are. I’d be humiliated if you witnessed the inevitable shrinkage.”

I smiled and whispered, “Please, please, don’t ever change.”

Johnny pulled me into a sudden kiss, and I clung to him, very unheroinelike. His soft lips pressed to mine. I felt tingly and velvety static crawled over my skin. His arms were like a security blanket around me, making me safe and grounded. I didn’t ever want to be parted from him.

When his tongue slipped to mine he tasted like something I couldn’t name, something oaky sweet, and when the kiss ended, his lips rose to my forehead. The tinglies subsided. “What’s that flavor?”

“Todd toasted me, opening Ig’s bottle of eighteen-year-old Laphroaig.”

“La-froyg?” I repeated.

“A single-malt scotch. Made on some island called Islay off of Scotland.”

Interesting. “Where is Todd?”

“Upstairs listening to Erik and Celia and Theo’s account of what you did to them, how they keep their man-minds.”

“Is it a good idea to let him know about that?”

“I think it’s something in our favor, something we can use in our planning. I’ll explain more when I get to the haven.”

I squeezed him tight, then exited out the back door.

The party was still going full tilt with the vampires, Offerlings, and Beholders. We could hear it when we entered. Mountain was waiting for us to get back, sent to the ticket booth by Goliath. “After coming in with a broom,” Mountain reported, “he hurried off to question that guy with the daggers.” Mountain took Menessos and me the back way around, down the service elevator, and across the backstage area.

Menessos dismissed Mountain, then called my name. “Before you retire to your bed, would you please come with me?”

A nod was the best response I could muster. I was drained of energy, and filled with emotion. I needed to reverse that.

He opened his door; his room had been tidied and cleaned since we’d brought Aquula here. “Wait here.” He passed through that heavy, iron-studded door to his private room, and quickly returned with a small wrapped present. “It is traditional to give the Erus Veneficus a gift after the induction ceremony. Of course,” he said as his expression went sly, “that tradition dictates that the witch be bedded and her family taken hostage. She is to be given a ruby ring to remind her of the family blood that would be spilled if ever she disobeyed. I was certain you would object to such traditions, and I have no desire to put any of my people through the agony of holding your grandmother hostage again. I selected something more modern instead. I hope you will enjoy it.”

Curiosity piqued, I ripped into the paper and lifted the lid of the palm-sized box. What I saw was a sharp reminder that Xerxadrea was dead, that my protrepticus was useless, and that Samson was gone. “A cell phone?”

“This is actually
more
than a cell phone. It is connected to a private satellite network, directly linked to others with similar phones. The lines are scrambled for assured privacy.” He took it from me and opened it, hit a button or two. “I took the liberty of programming my own number and a few others in there for you, including this one.” He handed it back. The letters read:
NANA
.

Almost giving myself whiplash snapping my head up so fast, I started to ask but he answered my question before I could. “Yes. I thought after the ceremony you would want to speak with her. I had not guessed that so much would happen before I had the chance to present it to you.”

My finger poised, ready to hit the dial button, but in the corner the time read one-twelve. “She’ll be sleeping.”

“If my guess is correct, she’ll be sleeping with her phone right beside her.” He pushed hair back from my shoulder and neck, appraising the bite marks he’d made. “Take this to your chambers, call if you wish, but rest.”

“You’ll tell me what Goliath found out from the performer?”

Menessos sighed. “We removed weapons from two others at the door, and refused admittance to another we suspected. That was close.”

“Which of us was the target?”

“When I find out, I will let you know.”

With that, I left. If there was any doubt of my exhaustion, climbing the metal stairs confirmed it. My finger touched the send button of my phone before my chamber door had shut. Nana answered on the third ring. “Seph? Is that you?”

“Sorry it’s so late, Nana.”

“Forget the hour! Are you all right? I saw the news, I saw him bite you! Saw that scrawny blond vampire divert a blade—”

“The bite was just for show, Nana.” The lie tumbled out so easily when I heard her fear and worry trembling in her voice. “The other . . . the culprit is being questioned. We’re all fine. I’m okay, really. What’s happening there? How’s Beverley?”

Nana sighed and I could hear her relax in the sound of it. “She got a perfect score on her spelling and vocabulary semester test, so we went to the movies to celebrate.”

What? Doesn’t she know how dangerous it is to take Beverley away from the safety wards of the house?
But they couldn’t stay inside forever. According to Aquula, Fax Torris’s threat stated she’d go after Beverley if I didn’t deliver Menessos at dawn on Sunday. We had a little time.

The first part of the plan had to make sure the fairies thought we were complying with that. Then they had to be stopped once and for all.

Then it hit me: Aquula’s death meant that severing the ties to Menessos was as easy as killing the remaining two fairies. Our plan had to utilize that, and somehow strengthen Menessos against that dual loss.

“. . . left Ares out,” Nana was saying. “I thought he’d be okay, but he chewed up one of your couch pillows. I’ll replace it. And I promise we’ll remember to crate him before we go out again.”