Wicked Circle (38 page)

“Seven,” Menessos said with dismay. “I’ve managed to keep them at the negotiating table for weeks, and that has not been easily achieved. What have you done?”

She put a hand on the back of the couch and leaned in. “I want that man out of my haven and out of Cleveland.”

“Seven.”

“They intend to fight, so let them—while
he’s
in charge. Let him show his leadership skills if he has any. It will keep him busy.”

“He won’t tolerate their squabbling and he won’t consider their havens should he supply an active resolution.”

“Exactly.” She stood straight and crossed her arms. “Leonard of the Columbus haven will go over this Interim Quarterlord’s head in a heartbeat.” She shot a pointed glare at Mero. “And I’m sure the Excelsior will be delighted to have to intervene.”

“Seven,” Menessos said again. This time his voice was tight enough to snap.

She uncrossed her arms and let her soft touch drop onto his shoulder. “You have other matters that require your attention. Allow me to handle this.” When he opened his mouth to argue, she sternly added, “I know how to handle petty men with their eyes
on power that is not their own.” Her expression dared him to argue that fact.

Menessos conceded. “What of our search for Persephone?”

“Everyone we have has been out all day searching, and they plan to take shifts throughout the night, but they have to rest, so there won’t be much getting done here on the nightclub.”

“She must be found!” he whispered. He clutched his stomach, as if he were in pain. Seven noticed, and she seemed about to inquire, but Menessos said, “Go on.”

“Ivanka said she was hounded by calls from the Domn Lup until three o’clock—at which time his press conference began. She hasn’t heard from him since. The event was recorded and I have it cued up if you would like to see it.” She offered her master an open laptop.

“Later,” Menessos waved it away. “Are they searching for her too?”

“The den claims they do not have her and are not looking for her, but I suspect something is going on. They would not let me speak directly with the Domn Lup.”

Menessos considered it. “Send Zhan. She and Kirk have an understanding.”

“Zhan is at the farmhouse assisting Mountain. It will be an hour before she can get there, but I’ll convey your order.” Seven paused at the door. “Anything else?”

“Just find her.”

“We will, Boss.”

Though Mero hung on their every word, he wasn’t lax in his observation of the sisters, who sat huddled together in the corner, whispering and crying.

From the relative safety of her sister’s arms, Talto spoke. “The witch mastered you. Why
do you agonize over her disappearance? If she is not here, she cannot be your puppeteer.”

Menessos rose and proceeded to the corner. Talto made to cower, but he sat on the floor with them. “Is that the way your former master treated you, Talto?”

“Yes!” she snapped. “Read this one, torture that one. Night after night after night. So much horror and despair. We wanted to be free of it. We killed Rouma, and I bear no regret.”

The threat and warning in her tone were not hidden. Mero thought that Menessos would surely wield his power and double her over in pain again. But he didn’t. He simply said, “Rouma? I meant Liyliy.”

T
he sun had set as Johnny and Toni emerged from the church. Toni preceded him into the limousine. As he sat, Aurelia reached to shake hands with Toni. “Hi, I’m Aury. And you are?”

Toni didn’t take the proffered hand. “Nobody you need to know.”

Aurelia pursed her lips in irritation. Johnny shook his head once to indicate she should back off. It was a silent ride to the den.

When they arrived, Johnny held the door for Toni and pointed at his Maserati. “Wait over there.” She walked slowly away. He led Gregor aside. “Get my car keys and my wallet from my desk, and the gym bag under my desk. Toni and I are going for a drive.” Gregor nodded.

As the rented limo drove away, Aurelia watched the men trudge onto the lift but did not join them. “Are you coming, Aury?” Gregor called.

“Go without me.” When they were out of sight, she set down her attaché and drew closer to Johnny. “What’s going on with the woman?”

“Nothing I can’t handle.”

Her lips pursed, then stretched as they rounded. “Oh, I’m certain that you can handle a lot.” She cast a fleeting look toward the car and the woman standing beside it. “Did I hear you say you were going for a drive?”

He crossed his arms and glowered down his nose at her. He knew what
she was up to. “If you were eavesdropping you did.”

Closing the slight distance between them, Aury tossed her head, and her long, pale hair spilled behind her shoulder, revealing the best contours of her swan neck. “I’m a tenacious woman, sire. That rubs some men the wrong way . . . and I only want to rub you the right way. I trust you can see that my persistence doesn’t have to be a bad thing.” She spread her arms just enough to make her blouse stretch tighter across her chest.

She had to know what she was doing, exposing her beautiful flesh to him. Johnny wanted to ignore her, but he was mesmerized by her tone, her scent, and the eagerness in her body.

“I mean . . . diligence can be very rewarding, and . . . well,” she mimicked his pose in a manner that deepened her cleavage. “I intend to give you my every effort.” Her voice dropped at the end, and the sparkle in her eyes was full of carnal promise.

Her breasts were nearly touching his folded forearms. Just the slightest forward lean would break the ice and establish a basis for further contact. He had only to reach out and instigate it—an accidental touch, a fond caress . . . and he would trigger a compulsive, consuming, crushing landslide of passion.

He kept his arms firmly crossed, grasping his own elbows. The self-imposed physical restraint allowed him to resist the overwhelming urge to touch her. Without it, his hand might have raised of its own accord. He said nothing aloud, but repeated Persephone’s name to himself silently.

Behind them, the elevator clanged and whirred as it descended again.

Aury wasn’t done. “You were fabulous
today, sire. How about when you’re finished with your drive, you and I celebrate?”

Johnny knew he should tell her no, but his mouth wouldn’t open and refuse her. The elevator arrived.

“Think about it,” she said as she retrieved her attaché and strutted to the elevator. Gregor delivered the gym bag and the key to Johnny. “I dropped your wallet inside.”

“Thank you.”

“Should I follow?”

“No. I do this alone.”

“Sire, wait.”

Johnny spun, ready to chew Gregor out—then he saw the cord Gregor was holding. The phone charger for the car.

“Since your gym bag already has a change of clothes, I assume you won’t be back tonight. Keeping your phone fully charged and answering it might calm the others should they become nervous over your whereabouts.”

The tension drained off Johnny. “Thank you,” he repeated, recalling that Gregor had heard her cite how long she’d been on a bus.

It was a five-hundred-and-sixteen-mile journey; according to the GPS, a full eight hours. Three hundred and twenty-eight miles of it was I-90—which the Maserati covered in just under four hours as Toni slept. Johnny did eighty-five while she slumbered, enjoying the music of the engine, lost in his thoughts.

That was a long time to think.

In the first hour, he’d considered how aggressively he’d been behaving and wondered if
the longer he was in human form, the more the wolf-effects wore off . . . but in the second hour he’d contemplated what it meant to be human. He wasn’t fully either, and the time of overlap would be most sensitive.

By the third hour, he’d concluded that hunger, dominance, fight or flight, and sex were all linked to both his human and his wolf. Basic instincts of mammal life. Emotion, however, was the province of only the human animal. Like rage. Rage inspired murder, whereas wolves hunted and killed only to eat.

Since meeting Toni, most of the factors that affected both sides of his nature had been quiet. With the exception of the moments in the den parking garage with Aury and Gregor, he’d felt more in control of himself than he had in days. But in the garage, it had been lust and anger—both very much human territory—that had sought to rule him. Even at the church, it had been his anger and fear that had made him aggressive.

So, emotion could numb him. Could damn near immobilize the bestial side of him, if he was able to be vigilant with his feelings. His emotions could buoy him above the wolf in all the ways that man was meant to be more than an animal, like courage and compassion, and in none of the ways that man’s superiority became man’s shortcoming, like rage and greed.

It was just after ten o’clock when they picked up I-81 north at Syracuse.

Toni awoke. They agreed on a burger joint for a food and facilities break, then were back on the road. Johnny kept the speedometer at seventy-five.

“What’s he like?” Johnny asked.

Toni smiled. “He’s all boy. He can’t sit still. His mind is on anything but his schoolwork.
He climbs everything. He catches frogs and digs up worms. He’s full of energy and he’s . . . he’s just vibrant!”

Johnny realized he was smiling.

“He’s got a mouth on him, though. I should be tougher on him than I have been, but . . . he lost his mother. I lost my daughter. Spoiling him helped us both get through it.”

“Does he remember her?”

“Oh, yes. There’s a picture of her beside his bed and he . . .” Her voice thickened, cracked. “He kisses Mommy good night every night.”

Johnny didn’t have to see her tears to know she was crying.

“Where is he now?”

“With some family friends. I’ll call them in the morning and go get him.” She resituated herself in the seat. “I was thinking, once we get to Saranac Lake, I’ll show you where the house is and you can drop me off. I’m sorry, but I don’t have a guest room. I don’t even have a couch, just a short love seat—”

“I don’t mind staying at a hotel.”

She sighed gratefully. “Thank you.”

“No, Toni. Thank you.”

I
studied the necklace dangling from Liyliy’s fist. It was a reasonable guess that since she wanted it gone, it represented either some danger to her, prohibited her from something, or had some power over her. Testing my theories, I reached my bound hands up to accept the necklace.

She lurched away, then tromped angrily around me, saying, “You will not touch it!”

It has some power over her.

Liyliy was kicking granules of salt all over me. I rolled to my back, blinked repeatedly and shielded my face to try and keep it out of my eyes. “How am I supposed to destroy it without touching it?” I demanded.

“Destroy? I did not say destroy!” She kicked me in the shoulder and I rolled, screaming in pain. Staring down at me, she growled, “I said unmake.”

Panting, I laid my head on the mound and concentrated on getting this salt-flavored air in and out of my lungs.
Correction, that thing must provide the bearer some control over her.
Thinking back, I recalled that when I’d accepted the scroll from the advisor Mero, I had glimpsed something around his neck; I’d wondered then if he’d been wearing a magical amulet or pendant.

Aha.

So she needed the Lustrata to unmake the necklace.

“I trust you know the difference.”

“I do,” I said. Simply destroying a magical
item could either break whatever spell it housed or seal it, depending on the item. The stake I’d burned in my hearth—
just over six weeks ago!
—had been made of wood and blood and mud. The spell-work attached had not been able to hold onto ash. As the wood had been consumed, the magic had evaporated, released in fiery transmutation.

Magic in metal was not so easy. Metal didn’t transmute when superheated; it could become molten, but it was still metal and the spell wouldn’t release. Unmaking a necklace of what appeared to be gold would be no small feat.

Or maybe the spell wasn’t attached to the metal.

The pouch would burn, but I was betting the important stuff was within. If it had stones, crushing them would seal the magic in place. A major counter-spell would then be required to undo the magic—with no guarantee of success, let alone permanence. “I have to know what I’m dealing with. Are there stones inside the pouch?”

Liyliy retreated to a safe distance and opened the pouch. Her wings sprouted and hoisted her toward the open top. As she hovered, the blustering air flung salt every which way, and I had to shield my eyes again. When the rush of air diminished, she was standing, wingless, before me. “There are three. Amber.”

Those stones would burn and transmute.

Liyliy, apparently, understood all this. If I tried and “accidentally” cracked the amber, she would surely kill me.

My only experience with unmaking anything was the
in signum amoris
. That had been a spoken spell sealed in actions and energy—it
had existed like worn jewelry, attached to me, but not a part of me. Burning a fence in my meditation world had removed it in much the manner of losing jewelry down the drain. That was substantially different from unmaking physical matter in this world. I’d also had Hecate’s help.

Why would Creepy want me to know that I can do this?

He knows Menessos and Johnny can’t help me.

I scratched my head as if I was still thinking. I had to either do this impossible thing, or get it away from her.

I couldn’t fight her physically; my shoulder injury was too fresh for me to expect to make much of a show as an opponent. But. Even without access to the ley line, I had power within me. Although most of my energy was depleted, she had brought me food . . . with more I could reenergize myself. Maybe enough to make one lucky strike, claim the necklace, and flip the balance of power here.

I could hope.

Donning an expression of an idea that had just struck, I sat up and clawed through the salt for the candy bar she’d dropped. “I need more food.” I opened it and devoured a bite. “What you want me to do requires a lot of energy, and if you won’t let me tap the ley line, I need some other way to fuel it. Bring me water, energy drinks and any power stones you trust me to have.”