Hallowed Circle (39 page)

The new high priestess met our eyes in turn. “My name is Hunter,” she said sharply. “Let any who bring
hostility to my coven’s door or to my witches discover it the hard way.”

Lydia gripped my shoulder. “You were right,” she whispered to me.

She was with me. Not against me.
My held breath escaped slowly. “Eldrenne. He called them to him, as if for a circle, to displace them so they could not kill Beverley.”

“And this, too, was done on Covenstead grounds?” Xerxadrea asked. She knew who I meant.

“Yes. It was the only way to stop them.”

“The Concordat accounted only for witches,” Xerxadrea’s cheeks rounded slightly and her tone conveyed an air of secretiveness. “I knew this day would come. I knew that, aberration that he is, he would be held accountable by them.”

“Let me make sure I’ve got this straight,” Hunter said. “The fairies were going to kill a kid on Covenstead grounds, which we would take as a violation of the Concordat and an act of war against us. But that vampire from the Eximium intervened, and he just happened to be able to call fairies to him. That’s supposed to be impossible, right?”

“Supposed to be,” I answered.

“By calling those particular fairies to him he saved the kid’s life.”

“Right.”

“But his calling them as if to guard a magic circle is an act in direct violation of the Concordat and can therefore be taken as an act of war against the fairies. And in the end, you”—she pointed at me—“killed a fairy inside the
Covenstead, which is also a direct violation and an act of war. Right?”

“He was trying to kill me—that was self-defense,” I said.

“The two fairies who saw the aftermath did not see him after you. They will not tell the other fey you had just cause,” Lydia said.

“The Concordat was violated twice against them,” Hunter said.

“In order to stop them from violating it and killing a child!” I argued. Rubbing my brow I added, “I bet the news crews have already broadcast the footage with a ‘Breaking News’ banner under it. Shows it was self-defense.”

Lydia put a hand over her mouth.

Hunter said, “I saw people with their cell phones out. I’m sure it’s on YouTube already. They’ll know it was self-defense.”

Xerxadrea pulled her staff in front of her and gripped it with both hands as she stood and started working her way around the desk. She stopped in front of me. “Most are not aware that you have come or that your trials have begun. Some of us already know. Though many will see the events of this night, Persephone, only a few will understand what they are viewing. Your enemies will recognize you first.” The lines on either side of her mouth deepened. “It is always that way. You’ve already been forced to share your secret with the few who have earned your trust. But you’re going to have to expand your consortium. You might as well begin in this room.”

I hesitated. My stomach felt like fire and ice were warring inside it.

“What are you talking about, Eldrenne?” Hunter asked.

“Tell them, Persephone. Say the words here, among your friends, for practice, child. For my
lucusi
will be next. Only by revealing yourself to them all will you keep your enemies at bay, and draw your allies near.”

I stood. I paced away from them. Hands on hips, my brain searched for a way out of this. But there was none. I knew what had to be done. “Xerxadrea.”

“Yes, child?”

“Are you with me?”

“My
lucusi
amd I are all with you.”

I faced her. “As for those against me, how do I protect the ones I love from becoming targets?”

Her hand passed before her, palm toward me. “You already have.”

“What do you mean?”

“Anonymity,” she said. “With your mask, your face is hidden, like the face of Lady Justice—and yet
you
see.” She tapped the staff on the floor. “Come.”

The orb glowed softly when I stopped before her, and she whispered words that I could not understand to the light.

Then the Eldrenne reached out slowly. I moved my hand to accept hers, but she paused with her palm hovering over mine, whispering. The scent of anise and nutmeg changed to raisin and currant cakes.

Suddenly she grabbed my arm, and I hit my meditative alpha like it was a swimming pool I’d just belly flopped into. Not only was the wind knocked from me, but I felt
different
… cold and wet as if my clothes were
soaked and clinging, yet I was dry. The ground beneath my feet wavered as if quaking. Power like I’d never felt before,
Her
power, arced over me, dragging me into her bright meditation, into her illuminant sacred space.

It was as if we had not moved, but the entire room had become a place of harsh light, yet …

Could we be inside the glowing orb atop her staff?

“My face,” her voice croaked. “Look upon my face, child. Do you see Me? Or do you see your own soul?”

It was no longer the Eldrenne who held my arm. A figure of darkness stood before me. Not dark-clothed. She
was
darkness alive. Everything else around us was like overexposed film, as if all color and tone had seeped into creating Her as a living statue of ebony.

A breeze that could not touch me blew around Her, lifting Her dark hair and obscuring Her ever-changing face. Eyes closed, She seemed at rest. Or was She waiting for something? Surely the changing of her beautiful face—as if aging a lifetime in a second and reversing it equally—meant something.

“I am waiting for you. …”

“Your face,” I whispered. I didn’t want to see my soul. Not yet.

Then the eyes of the figure of darkness opened. When I have finished meditating after gazing at a candle’s flame, a color unlike any other has haunted my eyes for a time afterward, a reddish-yellow-green afterglow that wasn’t pretty. Her irises were
that
color, with no pupils at all. And where that color ended was not white, but a crackling of jagged blue and green flames retreating into blackness so dark and void it seemed there was no orb to Her
eye, just the flat, tricolored iris hanging in the space of Her eye socket. These were eyes that had stared, unafraid, into the sun for eons. These were the eyes of the moon. It had to be Her face. It couldn’t be my soul.

“I am Hecate. I am Queen of the Underworld, the Goddess of Witches, and you, Persephone,” She said my name slowly as if savoring the sound of it, “aptly named Persephone … you are mine. I came to you, I began all that is, but you have not yet come to Me. Not in
My
place. But you will. You will call upon Me and you will seek Me out at My crossroads. And you … clever you . . . will find Me.” She laughed. Her grip on my arm tightened like a vice. “You will find Me in the darkness. In
your
darkness. I am there. When you are ready to see your own soul … I’ll be waiting.”

I blinked.

“Persephone,” Xerxadrea’s whispery voice came to my ears.

Everything seemed normal again, and the Eldrenne was just herself. Harvest spices—anise and nutmeg—were all I could smell. “Yes?” I said, trying to shake off that eerie feeling.

“Say the words.”

An alarm went off then, beeping from Lydia’s watch under her gown’s flannel sleeve. She clicked it off. “It’s time for me to remind you,” she said to Hunter, “to check on the band and get ready to be announced as the new HPS.” To Xerxadrea, she added, “And to get you on the stage to make the announcement.”

“Can we reconvene this after the band’s set starts at eleven?” Hunter asked. “I have to mingle after the
announcement is made. There are some people out there who contributed a lot to this party and they expect me to show how grateful I am and make assurances about the future of this coven.”

“Tend to them, Hunter. Let them believe they saw performers acting out a show—”

“Some out there know better than that,” Lydia said.

“And they will wisely keep their mouths shut,” Xerxadrea said confidently. “We’ll reconvene after the Ball,” Xerxadrea said. “And those of my
lucusi
who are here will convene with us.”

Hunter left. I held the door as Lydia guided Xerxadrea from the room.

Xerxadrea took center stage with all the slow pomp of an Eldrenne in full dress. The assembled crowd gave her the respectful silence she deserved, until she said, “I’d wager you didn’t think an old crone could do her own stunts.”

The laughter and applause she received in response fully restored the party mood of the room.

I watched from under the catwalk, undetected by the camera crews above me. I’d put the mask back on, simply because it made me feel safer and hidden. Johnny brought Beverley to me then hurried backstage. She clung to my arm and whispered, “Johnny called Demeter to let her know I’m okay.”

“Good.”

“I can’t believe it! Did you see Aquula?”

I went down on one knee beside her, to hear her better. “I did.”

“She’s a
real
mermaid! Did you see her skin, all glittery? And her eyes? Wow! She was
sooo
much cooler than Ariel.”

“Did she like your costume?”

Beverley nodded. “She said I was adorable.”

I stood, rubbed her hair, and pulled her closer to me, relaxing some muscles I hadn’t realized were still taut. But in my heart, I still worried. How could I be the Lustrata and avoid endangering her over and over? I had to figure out an answer to that.

“I’m delighted you enjoyed our show,” Xerxadrea was saying as I focused on the stage again, “but I am even more delighted to introduce to you the new High Priestess of Venefica Coven … Hunter Hopewell.”

Hunter crossed the stage, at ease under the bright lights. The applause seemed to embolden her, where it had embarrassed me. Yes, she was perfect for the job. She declared her gratefulness to all the appropriate people, dropping the names of those who donated to the party—who were surely satisfied to hear themselves called out—and singled out those who gave of their time. Then, she announced the band to riotous applause and cheers.

Only a few measures into the first song, the Eldrenne and a handful of other women were making their way toward us, going down the steps into the office where most of the music’s volume would be blocked. I stayed under the catwalk, knowing Beverley wanted to listen to at least a few songs.

Momentarily Goliath, minus his master, joined us. The armor part of his knight costume had been removed, leaving only the undergear. Though I knew the specific names of the pieces he wore, I couldn’t recall them just then. My brain was too preoccupied by the many trains of thought zooming about on multiple tracks inside my head and trying to figure out which of them to follow. Goliath lifted
Beverley onto his shoulders so she could get a better view of the band.

I stood there, letting my mind wander a bit, as I watched the crowd for a sign that someone among them had understood that what they’d seen wasn’t a show. All eyes were on the band.

All eyes, that is, except Menessos’s. Moving directly toward me, I let him have my attention. Beverley was alive because of him. He had red marks on his face, thin burns from the fairy. The crown was gone. In a torn tunic, he should have seemed haggard; but he didn’t. He looked battle-worn, but victory clothed him as clearly as the fabric. It made heat rush through me like a jolt of courage.

Then I remembered myself and pulled the shield around my aura like a curtain.

But Menessos wasn’t one to let a little metaphysical shielding get in the way. Stopping with only inches between us, he raised one finger and traced my jaw from chin to earlobe. My shields held off the effects until he touched my neck. I felt too tired to fight anymore, and ripples of heat crossed my body. I couldn’t stop the sigh from escaping my lips.

“You’re more than I dared to hope for,” he whispered.

“What does that mean?”

He took my hands and kissed the back of each. “It means enjoy the rest of your evening, Persephone. Goliath.” At his name, the other vampire turned. “It is time to go.”

Goliath set Beverley down, said something in her ear. She grinned and nodded in response. Then Goliath joined his master in leaving.

I watched them go, not sure if I was sad or relieved.

When I turned back, Beverley was yawning. It was late and technically a school night, though after all she’d been through, I wasn’t sure I could make her go to school tomorrow.

Then she put her hand in mine and said, “I’m tired.”

I led her down to the office. Surrounded by the light of a dozen candles placed around the room, the Elders sat on chairs arranged in a circle. Vilna-Daluca immediately announced, with a knowing smile, that she’d fetch a cot for Beverley. I pulled the mask off and tucked it into my Tarot pouch.

“This is part of my
lucusi
,” Xerxadrea said. “You know Vilna-Daluca. This is Silvana, Jeanine, Celeste, and Ludovika.” Each nodded at me as their names were said. I tried to repeat their names to myself so I’d not forget. Talk quickly turned back to commenting on the wonderful turnout, the lovely decorations, and the loud music. Through it all, Vilna-Daluca smoothed Beverley’s hair over and over until the girl was sleeping.