Shattered Circle (24 page)

Johnny rolled his shoulders to fight off the strain he felt. His body hurt; his arms, his sides.

“Give the word. One way or the other. I trust you to know what you’re doing and the ramifications you’re bringing on our people.” His fingers tightened on the triggers.

Our people
. Those two words echoed through Johnny’s head. Somewhere along the way they changed into
your son
.

“No.” It was more guttural than Johnny wanted the word to come out so he repeated it, making the effort to make it more human. “No.”

“Then, let’s bind him and tend to your burns, sire.”

Ten minutes later, after Johnny had donned his jeans, they had the vampire secured. Meroveus lay on the floor in the space the dinette used to occupy. Johnny had
watched Brian loop the rope around the vamp’s wrists and ankles in a binding that, should the vamp try to pull free, the rope would just tighten.

“He wields magic. Better gag him,” Johnny said.

Brian took care of that also. “Now. Your wounds.”

Johnny had examined them. He had tender spots, red and swollen, like third-degree burns that had been healing for a month or so. To have healed this much in one change—and not to have healed fully—meant that they must have been pretty nasty. “I’m fine.” He willed his left arm to transform. The fur sprouted and his arm thickened, fingernails thickened into sharp claws . . . then he willed it to revert. This time the burn was still slightly pink. He repeated the partial change on his other arm, then on his torso.

As the fur receded into his chest at the last, he looked at Brian, who wore an expression of awe.

“I didn’t doubt you before, sire,” said Brian, “but I am honored to witness the very power that makes you our king.”

Johnny gazed at Persephone. She still had not moved. “What of Aurelia?”

“The situation is handled. All the details on site and those pertaining to her transport have been attended.”

In front of him, Red looked so peaceful and serene. But his gut told him something was terribly wrong. He touched his empty hip pocket. “Did you see my phone?”

Brian started across the kitchen. “Saw it in the debris earlier.” He walked down the hall, returned with the phone.

Johnny immediately opened it and flipped through
his contacts until he found
DEMETER
. He hit Send and glanced at the clock; it was nearly midnight. She was not going to be happy.

The phone rang three times and her familiar voice croaked, “Who’s dead?”

“No one,” he lied.

“What is it?”

“Demeter . . . ”

“Is Persephone all right?”

Johnny let out a slow breath.

“Damn it, John, talk to me!”

“Someone tried to kill her tonight.” His gaze flicked over her neck, to the burn, then to the goose egg lump on the side of her head. “She’s got a few minor injuries.”

“But you don’t get an old woman out of bed to tell her that her granddaughter has minor injuries, so spit it out.”

“I left to pursue her attacker—”

“You get him?”

“I did.”

“Good. Go on.”

“When I got back, Red was sitting in the kitchen. Sitting cross-legged with a circle of water on the floor around her.”

“She was meditating.”

“I figured. But she’s still sitting here like that.”

Demeter was quiet. “How long?”

“An hour or so. Is that normal?”

“Not exactly.” Her coarse voice smoothed nonchalantly. “Have you broken the circle?”

“No.”

He heard Demeter sigh in relief.

“I don’t know much about magic, but I know that would be bad.”

“I’ll get Lance up and be on my way.”

“No. I’m sending wæres from the Pittsburgh den to pick you up. They will be there in twenty minutes.” He hung up with her and made a call to Kirk; he knew it would be handled.

Standing there in the kitchen, staring at Red, he felt helpless.

So he sat down across from her. Her expression had changed. It wasn’t exactly serene anymore. It didn’t suggest fright or fear or pain, but it wasn’t peaceful.

Maybe he was projecting his emotions on her.

He wasn’t at peace inside, and it wasn’t merely the aches and pains from the recent fight. There was a key in Aurelia’s suite that he had to get. For Evan’s sake he had to secure the information she had locked away before anyone else did. He considered sending someone to collect the key. Kirk or Hector maybe.

No
.

With all the deviousness Aurelia had shown, it wouldn’t surprise him to learn the Zvonul had her watched. It wouldn’t surprise him if she had enemies who managed some secret surveillance, either.

If anyone was watching her suite, it could mean danger for whoever went to collect the item. He couldn’t ask anyone else to take that risk for him. Besides, with him being the Domn Lup anyone who was watching the place would think twice about acting against him.

He glanced away from Red to the clock on the stove. He had time to drive to Cleveland, get the key, and get
back before Demeter would arrive. His gaze fell to Mero. He would even have time to deliver that bloodsucker back where he belonged.

Opening his phone again, he called Mountain. The Beholder would keep an eye on Red, and would follow orders to keep from interfering with the magic circle around her.

C
reepy.”

“I accepted that name without complaint, but please . . . ” He stood with his palms turned toward me and implored, “Please. Choose another name for me.” He dropped his chin. “I regret accepting that name now, as it has only served to reinforce your negative image of me.”

I had called him that out of mean-spiritedness. I felt ashamed—

—until I realized he’d given me a bargaining chip.

I had the urge to barter immediately and get the sex issue out of his price. But holding on to the option seemed the shrewder move. Besides, the more he behaved like this, the easier I found the notion of being cooperative. Warm behavior might inspire him to negotiate more.

“Have I not aided you? Have I not acted only to bring your desires to fruition?”

Gently, I said, “I did not intend to come to you for aid in this matter.”

“But you are here.”

“And I cannot leave without concluding a deal I did not seek to make.” I let a hint of blame into my tone.

Sadness dimmed his eyes.

“Sure, my mind was not calm as I sat down to meditate and I forgot to place all the protections, but you intervened of your own will. Your motive is what’s
skewed.
”

He conveyed remorse as he said, “I could not help myself. The opportunity was irresistible.”

The turnabout in his demeanor was making me suspicious. Perhaps
he
was being “cooperative and warm” to gain concessions from
me
.

“You must admit,” he added, “my aid is more ideal to the achievement of your initial goal. My own offering is even more complete than your plan.”

I sighed. Back to that. I didn’t have any trust in his offer.

“It is the influence of Menessos that has made this decision so difficult for you. You can see that, can’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“So wipe that slate clean, Persephone. Give me a chance.”

“A chance to what?”

“To prove myself to you, that you might find faith in my aid, and in my intentions.”

“What do you propose?”

He smiled broadly and offered me his hand.

I gauged him. “Is this going to cost me?”

“Only a little more time.”

How much time had passed in the real world?
Getting out of this anytime soon wasn’t going to happen anyway. I slipped my hand into his.

Immediately, my stomach gave a flip and the decrepit structure
whooshed
into a spin that swirled the darkness with lighter colors. The dizziness hurt and I grabbed Creepy around the waist. When the spin ceased as abruptly as it had begun, all those paler colors grew solid into a new environment.

When the nausea and shock wore off, I released his waist and realized that he’d teleported us to a hill at the
edge of a stone ruin. One side of the horizon was inky black, the other was pink and gold with rays stretching mightily; in this place the sun was rising.

“Walk with me,” he said. He was still holding my hand as he stepped away. I walked with him but removed my hand. He flashed me a sad look, then noticed my socked feet and led me off the pebbly pathway. We strolled through the grassy yard around the old structure. My feet were wet with dew, but, tender footed as I am, I appreciated the softer place to tread.

“Where are we?”

“Just a place I like.”

He guided me to a spot with gigantic boulders rising out of the ground. I turned slowly in a circle to view it all. The ruins were sad in the predawn light.

When I faced him again, he was atop one of the boulders. “The dawn is lovely from up here.” He offered me his hand. Begrudgingly, I took it. He hauled me up beside him and slid his arm around my waist to steady me.

My arm didn’t slide around his waist in return, but I stood without protesting his touch.

The countryside was misty below. The growing light glistened here and there in the moist air, making it twinkle like a gauzy blanket on which someone had scattered diamonds.

Long minutes pulled the sun higher, until I had to lift a hand as a shield against the glowing brilliance.

“This is a beautiful time,” he said in my ear, then pulled back to gaze at me. “The warm light is kind to you. Like summer’s caress. But I prefer the night. The moon does not burn the eyes.” He smiled and ran his fingers gently over my cheek.

His dark eyes were adoring and kind. A soothing sensation filled me as I peered into them.

“But I have seen how the cold silver light touches you. Your splendor cannot be dimmed by any celestial radiance, only enhanced by it.”

Oh my God. What girl doesn’t want to hear eloquent praise like that?

However, that encomium was met by my silence. I could not pay him a compliment as kind or as lovely, but I felt compelled to do something that would please him like his words had pleased me.

“I would call you by any name you like if you would tell me what you intend to do if I choose to do things your way.”

“I cannot reveal this to you, Persephone.”

With a sigh I glanced into the valley below.

“What concerns you so? What is it you fear I will do?”

“You spoke of balance. I do not want you to hurt others or take from innocents in order to secure the safety of my family and friends.”

“May I take from the guilty?”

I squinted at him. “I don’t like it. This is all on me. Even if it is your action, the blame will rest with me. It’s my doing, through you. My karma. And I’ve learned that two wrongs don’t make a right.”

“The purity of your purpose is noble and endearing, but you are asking quite a lot, you know this?”

I nodded.

He considered it for a moment. And another. He turned away, paced a few steps along the boulder top, hopped to the next one, took a few more steps, then stopped. His hand tapped thoughtfully at his lips, then gestured as if
he was making mental bullet points. Then he strode back.

He snapped his fingers and a stone slate appeared in the air from a shower of black dust. An ornate hammer and chisel appeared hovering above it.

“Do you want me to aid you with this rudimentary idea you have with the stake, or far more thoroughly and safe in my own way?”

I frowned.

“So you want me to help you in this situation with the Excelsior, but only if I can secure the safety of all those you hold dear, without harming others, and without taking anything from others be they innocent or guilty.”

After repeating his words silently to myself, my answer was “Yes.”

“Then decide: my way or yours. I can only truly guarantee all this if we do things my way.”

My frown remained. “If your way can achieve my aim with all the security you have promised, I have to admit it must be a
better
way. But . . . ”

He waved his hand and the tools began striking the stone.

My brows flew up and my mouth opened to protest.

“And you agree to my price?”

I clamped my mouth shut.

“I have required less of you by doing things my way.”

“True. But.”

He put his hand under my chin. “Have an open mind, Persephone. Let me show you who I am. Not who the vampire has told you I am.”

I pulled from his grasp. “I just don’t do casual sex. There have to be feelings involved for me.”

“Why?”

“It’s slutty otherwise.”

He laughed. “You are a grown woman of above-average intelligence. How can you not recognize that the behavior of adults is always about give and take. You work, you earn money. Give and take. You take the money and purchase things. That’s take and give. It’s all an exchange. It is only sentimentality that draws the line at sexual relations.”

“No. It’s morals.”

“Yes, that, too.”

“You want me to know who you are, but you’re asking me to do something against every fiber of who
I am
.”

“But for what you are getting in this instance, I believe it is fair.” He gestured and the stone turned in the air to show me what he’d said was written on it.

He stepped close to me and slipped his arms around my waist. He nuzzled his chin against the side of my head and whispered, “Give yourself to me. You cannot leave otherwise. You cannot stay here forever. Your body will die without you, and faster than it would out of want for food and water.”

Staring at his chest, I sighed. The trapped feeling was overwhelming. Agreeing to sex with him was the only way out. He could have raped me and been done with it, but that was part of the psychological game he was playing. He was making me choose in spite of the ridiculous connotations it held for me. It was petty. It was part old-world, women-are-property. It was part under-the-table-political-dealing. And a whole lot of it was guerrilla-tactics-forcing-situational-ethics.

It made me mad.