Shattered Circle c-6 Read online

Walking toward the kitchen, even my sock-footed steps seemed loud in my ears. My gaze focused on the floor.

  A memory flashed. Of Creepy—the otherwise nameless benefactor Menessos had secured an unsettling union with—here, in my kitchen. I had run away from him, leaving him behind me at the door, but he had impossibly materialized himself in front of me.

  And, he’d materialized in the cargo hold of the ship Liyliy had held me captive in.

  How had he done that?

  Outside the wind roared. It caught the screen door and pulled it open enough that when it snapped shut it startled me. I spun around to see leaves skitter across the porch. And I noted the rip in my screen door. Another memory of Creepy.

  I turned back toward the kitchen. Johnny wasn’t here, and that meant he was probably hanging out at Mountain’s trailer. I walked to the windows to peek outside. The lights were on, and it looked like something had happened to Mountain’s trailer near his front door. I wondered if one of the animals had damaged it.

  At the thought of damage-causing animals, my thoughts pounced on Johnny. He wanted to talk, to try to work it out. It would not be a short conversation. I was feeling drained and unsure if I could make up with him. Don’t let exhaustion make decisions.

  I took a deep breath and closed my eyes for a moment, recalling the good things with Johnny. Our awkward first kiss. Our funny score-keeping. We hadn’t kept tally in such a long time. Larger concerns had seeped in all around us. Maybe if we could bring the fun back . . .

  Maybe then I could forgive him.

  The wind pulled the screen door and slammed it shut again.

  The bang knocked me out of my thoughts. I turned on my heel and headed for the front. I should go to the trailer and let Johnny know I was home.

  Before I reached my boots I noticed something on the floor, like leaves scattered all over the entryway.

  Moving closer, I was four steps away when, even in that dim light, I could tell the spots weren’t leaves but small puddles. Wet and dark.

  Bloody footprints.

  The attack came from behind.

  Something hit my neck and jerked me backward and off balance. I grappled at the restraint—the necktie, by the silken feel of it—but could not get my fingers between it and my flesh. I struggled to no avail. I let the fullness of my weight sag against my attacker, but whoever had me had no problem holding me up. I tried to think of something I could grab and bash against my assailant’s head, but this section of the hall was clear. Not even a picture on the wall to tear down.

  My ears were buzzing. I couldn’t breathe.

  The mantle.

  I shut my eyes, concentrated on my thumbs, and called on fire.

  Even as I detected the mantle’s change in light with my lids closed, I heard a female voice say, “What the fuck?”

  I reached over my shoulders to grab at her hands. Pressing my thumbs into her wrists I let the heat flash out of me and into her.

  She screamed, but held on.

  On her arm, blisters rose under my pinky—the finger that represented water—and under my thumb. Her scream turned into a growl and she squeezed the tie tighter.

  I saw stars . . . needed air . . .

  I squeezed harder. The blisters broke. The damaged skin in my grasp slid over the raw tissue beneath. I stomped my heel down on the top of her left foot. Without my boots on, I might not have broken bones, but she still yelped at the damage to her bare foot and the silky ligature around my neck loosened a bit. I used that instant to pull her arms forward with all my might, sucked in a breath, and ground my heel in harder.

  She growled again and, in spite of the pain of burns, she forced my weight off her injured foot and managed to jerk the tie tight around my throat again.

  But this time I had the fingers of one hand curled around it.

  With the mantle still shining, I used my thumbs to burn through the silk.

  This, of course, meant I burned my neck as well. My pain-filled scream was stifled by the pressure around my throat, but when the singed fabric tore apart from the pressure, it sent her reeling backward, and my choked cry surged out full force. Gasping, I turned to see a stunningly beautiful blond woman wearing only her underwear, cursing as her damaged foot became her literal downfall. She fell on her ass in my hall.

  I didn’t stand around trying to catch my breath.

  Panting, I leapt at her. She was trying to get up, and my only thought was to keep her down. I shifted sideways and I curled up somewhat so I slammed onto her torso with my entire body. I felt the breath whoosh out of her flattened body.

  I rolled and straddled her with my knees on her arms to keep her from fighting me. Then I dug my fingers into her hair and cracked the back of her head on my hardwood floor four times.

  I would have kept going had it not been for someone calling my name.

  Spinning to look over my shoulder, I saw Johnny in the doorway, mouth agape.

  “What are you doing?”

  My voice was raspy as I said, “She tried to kill me!” And came closer to succeeding than you did.

  “What?” Johnny rushed toward me. His gaze fell past me to her. “Aurelia?”

  She didn’t answer. I’d knocked her out.

  “You know her?” I stood, rather gracelessly.

  Johnny took my arm to steady me. “Yup.”

  I blinked repeatedly. My question was obvious.

  “The Zvonul sent her to be my assistant.” He paused and, as a glare took over my face, his tone dropped to a justifying one. “She’s very . . . qualified.”

  I jerked out of his grasp. “Qualified to kill me.” As I glowered down at the gorgeous unconscious woman, I asked, “Why is she in her underwear?” It looked like someone had dragged it through the cornfield as pieces of dried and broken cornstalks were stuck to it in various places.

  Johnny stepped away. “She’s after power,” he said. “She’s been trying to get close to me since she showed up.”

  While I was away in Pennsylvania with my mother.

  I looked Johnny up and down. His clothing was disheveled, to say the least. There were flecks of grass and shards of cornstalk on him.

  Riiiiiight. Everything clicked into place suddenly and I knew what his urgent need to talk to me had been about. “Let me guess. She got close, didn’t she?”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Johnny’s mind was racing. He was stunned to learn that Aurelia had tried to kill Red, but Red’s coarse voice and the splotches on her neck were proof enough, even without the burn right in front. The wærewolf had come close to achieving her aim.

  “This is what you had to tell me,” Red said when he didn’t answer. “She’s why we had to talk face-to-face so urgently.”

  The reproach in Seph’s glare was a physical slap. The hard note in her words, even over the gruff tone, was an accusation.

  “No. She wasn’t.” He opened his mouth and shut it. He wanted to apologize again for losing it and attacking her before. He wanted to smooth that situation over before telling her about Evan. But with his assistant having tried to kill her, and Persephone’s obvious jealousy, he knew he had to back up and fix this before he could straighten the other mess out.

  He knew what he had to do. He took out his cell phone and dialed. The Omori needed to come now.

  “Yes, sire?” Gregor’s deep voice answered.

  “I need you to come to Red’s farmhouse ASAP.”

  “I’m on my way.”

  “Bring the Omori with you.”

  “Sire? Is there a problem?”

  Johnny looked down at the unconscious woman and said, “Aurelia must be taken into custody.”

  At that, Aurelia stirred and sat up, eyes wide in disbelief. Red retreated a few steps farther from the woman, then disappeared into the living room.

  Gregor asked, “For?”

  “Attempted murder.”

  “Who’d she try to kill?”

  “Red.” Johnny hung up. He heard Seph passing through th
e dining area to the kitchen. She appeared again, dragging a dinette chair and holding a rope.

  “You can’t be serious.” Aurelia’s droll tone indicated that she’d recovered herself. “The witch is a liability to your rule.”

  Johnny shook his head. “You’re wrong.”

  Aurelia laughed, a single condescending note. “Of course you can’t see it. You’ve barely lived your life with the pack. Every den is bound by the common denominators of being wolf and fearing the threats of those who are not, but this pack has something more charmingly homey about it. I’ll give Ignatius the credit. That’s the legacy he built. A pack that was more than pack . . . by aspiring to be family.” The tone she used would have been more suitable as a response to learning her house was infested with bedbugs.

  “That’s not a bad thing,” Johnny said.

  Aurelia rubbed at the back of her head and climbed to her feet, keeping her left on the heel only. It was obviously injured. “It is for you.”

  “How so?”

  “You kept this family at arm’s length, and they were the good ones. What’s out there”—she gestured vaguely beyond the house—“is not the same. The higher the rank, the less familial it gets. In the Zvonul, they’re barely more than rabid pack animals. When they see threats, they eliminate them. As you should well know.”

  Johnny knew. He had met the Rege.

  Aurelia swung her arm to point at Red. “If you keep screwing around with the witch, they will off you and take your son.”

  Beyond her, he saw Red’s eyes widen at the word “son.”

  “You said no one knew.”

  “The information is secured,” she said coolly. “If anything happens to me, if I don’t check in, locks will be opened.”

  He glared.

  “Also, if I go into custody,” she added in a snide sing-song voice, “locks will be opened. And you know what will happen then.” She paused. “Anticipating that Evan will be able to transform at will like you, they’ll turn him.”

  Johnny felt his heartbeat in his ears. He felt his blood pressure rising. His fists clenched.

  “They will raise him to be what they want in a Domn Lup.” The room remained silent for a long moment, then Aurelia added, “I’m sure their values and ideals would not be in keeping with how you would want him raised.”

  With that, Aurelia spun and, though she advanced awkwardly using only the heel of her left foot, she rushed at Seph, who swung the chair up to defend herself. Aurelia grabbed the legs smoothly and used her momentum to push the chair at Seph, twisting it so the back of it cracked her in the side of the head. She went down. Aurelia leapt over her, landing on her right foot and her hands, but she was immediately up and rushing to the door that led to the garage.

  Johnny was already in motion, following her swift move, but he fell on one knee, crouching over Seph. “Red? Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” she snarled. “Get her.”

  Johnny ran into the garage and leapt the railing of the steps. Aurelia had escaped out the door to the rear and as he lunged through it, the flat of a shovel whacked against his head.

  His knees buckled and hit the ground. Dazed, it took him a second to recover. He saw Aurelia hobbling across the yard toward the road. Even injured, she was fast. Her car is that way. Mine’s closer.

  Pushing himself up, he ran in the other direction around the house, skidded up to the door of the Maserati, and jerked the now fobless key ring from his pocket. In seconds he was throwing gravel as he reversed up the driveway and squealed the tires on the road. Remarkably, Aurelia had made it to her car already.

  Catching a glimpse of taillights, he shifted gears and floored the gas pedal.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Goliath stood in the main chamber of the Haven Master’s suite. His elbow was propped on the back of the master’s chair and he let the full force of his most threatening glare crash over Ivanka.

  She was well aware of his displeasure. She had barely made it through the door before lowering herself to one knee before him. Her eyes were kept downcast, her chin low with shame.

  As the moment wore on, Mero, beside Goliath, shifted his weight impatiently.

  Goliath had not wanted Liyliy to escape, but the fact that she had escaped Mero personally meant the advisor couldn’t begrudge Goliath the escape of Persephone Alcmedi while the vampires lay dead for the day.

  “My orders were for the Erus Veneficus to remain on site.” Goliath’s tone was sharp.

  “I try to keep her here,” Ivanka said. Regardless of her stilted English and thick Russian accent, Goliath understood her well; he’d trained her as security personnel when she joined this haven. “Old man come in. He angry.”

  “What old man?”

  “Own shop. Volfsbane and Absinthe.”

  Mero shot Goliath a questioning look so he explained, “It is a nearby witch supply shop.”

  “I protect Erus Veneficus when he use cane as weapon,” Ivanka added.

  “You mean you fought a mortal man when he attacked the Erus Veneficus?” Mero asked.

  The pointed and accusing nature of his comment wasn’t lost on either Goliath or Ivanka. Goliath knew Ivanka’s abilities as a sentinel were among the best in the haven; she’d taken his instruction flawlessly. He also knew that she knew she was among the best.

  She looked up from the floor for the first time since entering and her brows were knit together tight. “Yes,” she snapped at Mero. “He is mortal. As per standing haven orders, I did not harm him, just subdue. Not so easy as beating him black and blue. And zis”—she lifted her casted arm—“make even more difficult.”

  “Did he use magic against you?” Mero asked.

  “Beauregard was Bindspoken years back,” Goliath said. “He cannot use magic.”

  “Why would he attack the witch?”

  Goliath shrugged.

  “He say his son is cad . . . cad . . . ” Ivanka paused, snorted a self-critical breath as she tried to remember. “Catatonic. He blame vitch for zis.” She added, “While we fight, she sneak out. I try to follow, but she get to cab,” Ivanka added.

  Mero shifted his weight again. “Did she happen to mention why she was leaving or where she was going?”

  “Say she haf meeting, but not vhair.” Ivanka’s gaze shifted to Goliath. “If she said, I already go there and bring vitch back.”

  Goliath nodded. “You may leave.”

  Ivanka rose and turned to the door. Before opening it she said, “She say she come back.”

  “Of course she did.” Mero didn’t sound convinced.

  “Thank you,” Goliath said and gestured her out. When Ivanka had gone, he faced Mero. The bruising Liyliy had caused around the vampire’s eye was finally diminishing. “If my E.V. said she’d be back, that’s what she’ll do,” Goliath assured him.

  Mero met his gaze squarely. “I have not seen Menessos around the haven tonight.”

  Goliath remained calm. “I sent him on an errand.”

  “If he has gone to her and told her what we are deliberating about, she will flee. He could have told her that last night when she made her brief visit here. He could have told her to escape while we were yet under the sway of the death. She might have planned the escape with the old man.”

  “You make valid points.” He broke his pose and strolled away with his hands clasped behind his back, thinking.

  This was the unavoidable moment where he had to let Mero know where he stood. He’d bought time with his diplomacy yesterday, but that time had run out.

  Goliath thought of his confrontation with Menessos earlier and what his Maker had said about the witch. Menessos had made no secret about his opposition to her being taken to the Excelsior when the three of them spoke yesterday evening. The question was, as Haven Master, should he support Menessos? His Maker was starting down a path at odds with the hierarchy of their kind. It was not completely unlike him, but it was rash. Menessos had been acting more and more rashly since he’d met Perseph
one . . . conceivably since she’d marked him.

  “She could have lured him out of this room,” he said. “She could have used her influence to make him reveal any threats. She could have started planning to abscond right then. She could have lost all the integrity I’ve come to know she possesses due to the desperation of the moment.” He turned back. “But I’ve seen her in desperate moments. She paused to save my life in a desperate moment.”

  Mero lifted his chin and squared his shoulders. “Do you feel you owe her loyalty for that?”

  It seemed Mero was preparing himself for a confrontation, in case Goliath felt it necessary to subdue him.

  “We all have to make our own choices, Mero. Yours is evident.” Goliath smiled. “My Maker Made you. That makes us brothers of a sort. Out of respect for you, I will not try to stop you, but out of respect for our Maker, I will not help you, either.”

  Mero said nothing, but he did not move to leave.

  Goliath said, “I can see that you are now considering whether or not you should use your rank and authority against me. Commandeering my haven and claiming my people to use them to aid you as you try to seize the Lustrata is a wise—even shrewd—move. Although you certainly should not underestimate her. Still”—he strode around the master’s chair and lowered himself into it with all the regal poise he possessed—“I promise you, brother, if you try to take what is mine, I will give you a war.”

  • • •

  She will destroy us. Does he not see that? Mero wondered as he left the Haven Master’s chambers. He glanced up the stairs at the doorway to the Erus Veneficus’s chambers, irritated that they were empty. She’d slipped through his grasp.

  Goliath was young, but Menessos had trained him well. The diplomacy he offered was smart. It let him stand his own ground among all sides, yet clearly revealed which side he’d choose tonight if forced to.

  Mero knew what he needed to do. He’d started toward the stage when a cacophony of excited sounds arose in the theater house beyond. Proceeding cautiously, he peered around the backstage wall and saw Menessos carrying a child. He was accompanied by a pair of women as different as night and day.