Wicked Circle (30 page)

Where would I have an advantage over a giant, pissed-off owl?
Certainly not high up in the wide-open sky. Maybe I could outmaneuver her. Just as I was closing in on the water of Lake Erie, I intentioned a hard left and zoomed south around the backside of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Skimming the North Coast Harbor walkway, I heard a screech and shot upward, rocketing over the dome of the Great Lakes Science Center and heading for the turbine.

Owls are renowned for their specialized feathers that afford them nearly silent flight, so I kept checking behind me. Liyliy had been gaining, but my evasive spin cost her. She was pumping her wings hard.

M
eroveus Franciscus knew Liyliy was transforming to pursue the Erus Veneficus. “Bring her to me,” he commanded. Her answer was a scream as her body warped. Her nose elongated and curved sharply down like a beak. Her pouting pink lips grew thin and faded to white, becoming a crooked line with drooping ends. It was nauseating to see her skin swell and sag, beset with wrinkles, as that cracked topography replaced her lovely face with sunken ravines and bruised slopes. When the feathers burst forth, she screeched again, revealing two rows of little pointed teeth in her hideous mouth.

As the eldest of the sisters took flight, her wing brushed his chest and a gust of wind hit him hard enough to force him a single step backward. He visually followed her departure, but as soon as she was out of sight, he realized,
The most dangerous of the three just slipped away.

Perhaps I should call her back.

He reached to his chest to touch the necklace—and discovered it was gone. Instantly, his jaw clamped hard and his hand curled into a fist.
So clever! She’s stolen the only means I have of controlling them—but her sisters do not know that.
He collected himself and smoothly flattened his fingers on his chest as if merely smoothing his shirt.

Movement on the stage drew his attention. Giovanni shoved the Alter Imperator off of him and lurched onto his feet. “You idiot!” he shouted at Goliath.
“You let her get away!”

Slowly, and with some graceless difficulty, Goliath got his feet under him. He shook his head, dazed.

“Liyliy will bring her back,” Mero said calmly. With the necklace gone, however, he was sure Liyliy wouldn’t bother chasing the Erus Veneficus. She would simply flee, but no one else knew she had that option.

Giovanni stared down at Menessos, who was in shock and bleeding profusely. Liyliy’s sisters were lapping at the blood on his thighs. “Damn, this is sweet,” Giovanni said as he crouched. “You’re ruined. And now the Excelsior’s wrath is yours. Let’s drain him dry, ladies.” He dropped to his knees, and, mouth wide, fangs gleaming, aimed for Menessos’s throat.

Goliath ran forward and kicked Giovanni in the head. The blow had enough force to send Giovanni sprawling backward. His nose gushed blood. Across the theater, Sever was heard emitting a triumphant, “Yes!”

Giovanni threw his arms up and trembled with rage, screaming as he gathered himself to stand.

Goliath straddled his wounded master and glowered at the sisters, who scurried away to sit at Meroveus’s feet like dogs.

“You dare!” Giovanni bellowed. “You dare strike me? You’re in league with him! Has she marked you as well?” Giovanni spun to Mero. “Tell them to read him!”

Meroveus shrugged. “When Liyliy returns. Perhaps.”

“Mero!” Giovanni shouted.

“Unless I am presented with a sealed document of kill-authorization from the Excelsior,” Goliath said through gritted teeth, “none of you bastards will touch my master.”

“I bear no such document,”
Mero said. He knew his son would not sign such. “Do you, Giovanni?”

The other advisor’s answer was a wordless growl. He stomped from the stage and away toward the theater entrance.

Mero wandered closer and scrutinized the Quarterlord. He had seen Menessos at his best; this had to be his worst. It pained him to know that he had delivered this trouble to the great Menessos. “Call your Offerlings to the stage,” he said softly.

The Quarterlord’s mouth worked, but no sound came out.

“Offerlings! Attend your master!” Goliath’s voice boomed into the stunned silence of the theater. People rushed up the ramp. Offerling blood was imbued with the essence of their master, twice the amount Beholders had. Drinking of them provided him sustenance greater than the blood of the unmarked.

Twenty minutes later, Goliath instructed Beholders to bring a stretcher. They conveyed their master offstage to his personal quarters. Mero followed. Goliath blocked him from entering. “You will let me by,” Mero said.

Goliath shook his head. “No. I won’t.” Behind him, Seven and Mark hurried into the back chamber. A woman with blond ringlets and red eyes directed the Beholders as they carried Menessos in after the pair.

“As senior officer representing the Excelsior, I could have denied him the sustenance of his people and kept him virtually incapacitated while my investigation continued.”

“It was your bitch who did this to him.” Goliath’s features hardened. The corner of his mouth crooked up and the mask of a criminal
contemplating wickedness was complete. “So your token gesture means shit to me.”

“Goliath!” Menessos’s voice wafted from deep in the chamber. “Bring him to me.”

The Beholders emerged from the back room, leaving with the stretcher. One of them said, “Risqué asked that you give her a few minutes before bringing the guest in.” Goliath allowed the Beholders out, then he gestured Mero and the two women begrudgingly toward the seating area in the front room.

Mero ordered Ailo and Talto to sit at the leather in-the-round couches, and the three of them waited until the Offerling had tended her master’s legs. Carrying the remains of his torn pants, she left. Goliath, Seven, and Mark remained with him.

Through the door the Offerling had failed to close, Mero heard Menessos saying, “You need to go, to keep the others calm. Assure them I am fine, that all will be well.”

“But—” Seven began.

“Do as I ask. Do it now.”

She and Mark departed, the former casting a worried glance at Mero on her way out. Mark called out, “I’m on door duty, Goliath.”

When the outer door shut, Mero stood, anticipating that he would now be allowed to see Menessos. As he neared the entry, Goliath asked, “When did she mark you? How?”

Mero stepped into view. Menessos was on the bed, covered by a sheet, but he was sitting up and in the process of unbuttoning his shirt. “Perhaps it is best if he not answer,” Mero said.

Goliath spun and gave him a scathing scowl.

“The less you know, the
better it will be for you.”

“You don’t scare me.” Goliath’s voice was low, like a warning.

Menessos pulled his arms from the suit shirt casually, but the note of his voice was urgent as he said, “Goliath, the Advisor and I must speak privately.”

The Alter Imperator’s struggle with this request was obvious, but Goliath bowed slightly and said, “As you wish, my master.”

“Entertain the ladies for me,” Mero said as he passed.

Goliath did not answer, but shut the door behind him.

“His loyalty to you is impressive.” Mero appraised the room’s size, the stones of the wall broken only by a thick, rough-hewn mahogany mantel that encircled the room at chest level. Trinkets were set upon it here and there. Furniture was sparse, and a large mahogany poster-bed swathed in black silk dominated the area.

“Indeed.” Menessos tossed the shirt to the floor. “It has been too long.”

“I wish the circumstances were better.”

“I wish you had left the shabbubitum in their stones.” He groaned and rolled each shoulder as if to loosen stiff muscles. Under the sheet that covered him, his legs stretched, testing. “Their inquiry hurts like hell.”

“Sorry about Liyliy’s boots.”

“Easy for you to say.”

Mero spread his arms slightly. “I figured interrupting her at that point might be dangerous. My concern might have been misconstrued.”

Menessos conceded both points with a tip of his head. “All things considered, I am glad you remembered our old game. Bring the chair.” He gestured toward the far corner.

Relieved and assured
that Menessos was not changed for the long years since they had last spoken, he reached for the chair, then froze and assessed its nearby mate. “Are these—?”

Menessos nodded. “The castle in Caernarvonshire.”

“I heard they had sold everything a few years back.” Mero gaped at the high-backed William and Mary seats.

“I had them reupholstered. Come.”

“Amazing.” He carefully lifted the antique, carried it to the bedside and sat. That Menessos cared to hold on to trinkets from the past was another sign that encouraged Mero. “I hope whatever you have in mind is worth the damage you just took.”

Menessos affected a calm demeanor. “I relinquish my status.”

“A new Quarterlord will be appointed.”

“Goliath will have my haven.”

“He is too young—!”

“I’m not saying he will be Quarterlord, but he
will
have my people. This will become the Cleveland haven and Goliath will become the haven master. Whoever the Excelsior appoints as Quarterlord can move their haven to Chicago. My old building remains empty.”

Mero shook his head and sat forward. “You know what will happen. Goliath will be challenged by older vamps who long for such status.”

“He can take it.”

His old friend seemed to have it all worked out. Yet he had the distinct feeling this conversation was being steered as well. “Are you certain?”

“Absolutely.”

Mero sat back. “I will do what I can.”

“How did you secure the
release of the shabbubitum?”

Without giving Menessos the exact details, he answered, “I filtered their souls through apples and amber, trapping a piece of each in the gemstones. Via the stones, I can exert my will.”

Menessos considered that. “Was it your idea to release them?”

“No. Heldridge requested it.”

“Damn that fool.” Menessos rubbed his temple. “Deric went for it on his word?”

“Not his. A clever bit of vengeful redirection swayed him.”

Menessos was silent, then said, “Giovanni.”

“His grudge is as ugly and as permanent as his scars.”

“He should be dead. That he is not should make him grateful enough to get over it.”

“Time does not heal
all
wounds.”

Silence followed, then Menessos broke it by casually asking, “So your son did not send you here with a stake in addition to that scroll?”

Mero shook his head side to side. “No stake.”

“And what of my witch?”

Mero tilted his head, curious. The underlying intensity in those words made him think this was the point they’d been coming to all along. “That is more difficult to say.”

“Call Liyliy back.” It was not a request.

“I cannot.”

The air crackled between them and Mero felt the other vampire tap the ley. Menessos leaned forward, sneering. “If Persephone is harmed, the scope of my wrath will surmount any torment you’ve ever known.”

The threat was frightening, but it was equally telling. “She’s more than just the Lustrata to you.”

“Mero.” Menessos’s voice was like a taut string,
ready to snap. “I heard you tell Liyliy to bring her back. You did not specify ‘alive.’ Call. Her. Back.”

“It is not that I am unwilling to call her back, I am unable.” Mero stood, paced away. “On her way out, Liyliy stole from me the necklace bearing the amber.”

“You fool!” Menessos threw the sheet back.

Before he could get up, Mero placed a restraining hand on Menessos’s shoulder. He said, “Stop,” but Menessos threw him off and thrust his legs over the side of the bed. Spreading smears of red appeared on the bandages. “Stop!” Mero shouted. “You’re not ready to be up yet.”

The door opened and Goliath stood there waiting for his master to give a signal.

“Your wounds are deep,” Mero said. “She practically cut you to the bone.” Feeding on his Offerlings would accelerate the healing process, but it was not instantaneous. If Menessos was able to walk around without ripping his stitches before the dawn, he’d be very lucky. “Please, sit back and allow me to explain,” Mero said.

A tense moment passed before Menessos gestured at Goliath, who demonstrated his reluctance in the slowness with which he shut the door.

As Menessos reclaimed his former position, Mero sank into the seat. He rose again to retrieve the silken sheet that had slithered to the floor when tossed aside. “Your witch is in no danger,” he said, spreading it over Menessos’s lower half. “Liyliy has the necklace in her possession. She’s just going to flee. It is the confinement of her sisters we must worry about. They don’t yet know the necklace is gone.”

“You don’t know Liyliy,” Menessos argued. “She won’t simply run, encumbered
with the safekeeping of that necklace. She’ll want the thing destroyed, and she knows that Persephone—if caught—will be in a bind herself. She’ll use that leverage to make my witch destroy it.” Menessos shook his head. “You worry about rebinding the sisters. I want my people out searching.”

Mero saw the other vampire’s hands clench. He knew Menessos wanted to be out searching personally.

A commotion in the outer room had Mero heading for the door. Goliath and Mark blocked the doorway, then he heard Giovanni’s voice saying, “I am an Advisor to the Excelsior, and as such, I demand you let me pass!”

“What do you want, Giovanni?” Mero asked.

“I have news.”

Mero asked, “What news?”

“I’ve spoken with our Excelsior.” His grin was as malignant as his tone. “He’s named me the Interim Quarterlord.” Snickering, he added, “The documentation to prove it is on its way.”

I
flew between the blades of the hundred-and-fifty-foot-tall turbine. Liyliy was so focused on me that she must have misgauged the rotation of the huge blade. I heard her cry out as it came down on her head.