Arcane Circle Read online

  “Who else would I be?”

  I smirked, but didn’t stand or move to let him out. “Hungry?”

  “Rapaciously.”

  The pompous asshole is back. My heart swelled with happiness and a comforted sigh escaped. “We’ve made arrangements.”

  “Do tell.”

  “Mountain is going to come down in a few minutes. I wanted to assess you first, and tell you that I don’t think he knows what happened exactly. Only that you were covered and brought here, kept from the sun.”

  “You didn’t tell him you staked me?”

  I shook my head no.

  He laughed at me. It wasn’t kind laughter. “Do you feel guilty? Even though I stand before you?”

  “I killed you.”

  “It was neither an accident nor murder. I offered my life to you, Persephone. You held me to your breast as my life leaked from me.” He made it sound sexual. In the candlelight, I caught a glimpse of fang. “And you made claim to me inside of that darkness. You placed another of your marks upon me.” He scrubbed irritably at his brow, flakes of blood drifting away. “You own me now, my master. You must own what you did to achieve it.”

  He was right but I wasn’t going to say that aloud. I stood.

  “What happened after? Your eyes are bright, your spirit high. Johnny survived, then?”

  “He’s injured but will heal.” I quickly told him what he’d missed, including a little about those who were lost. “I’m sure the painter died as well. He couldn’t have survived that. What was his name?”

  “Ross.” He added, “Good for him.”

  “Good? His legs were incinerated while he was alive, then the rest of him burned!”

  “Your pity is commendable, but unnecessary.”

  I clamped my jaw shut, wedging my tongue behind my teeth.

  “His story is more than sad and I will not burden you with it. Take comfort in his death, Persephone, for it was what he wanted most of all.”

  “I don’t believe that. I watched him flee for his life. He stumbled …”

  Menessos’s grip lowered on the bars of the kennel. “Freudian slips are not always a trip of the tongue. How many Beholders did I lose?”

  “Twelve, I’m told.”

  He nodded, glance flicking to the satellite phone in my hand. “May I make a call? I must have a car sent for me.”

  “Of course.” I took a step forward and stopped, still holding the phone close to me. He did have Regional Vampire Lord stuff to do, but now that my guilt was allayed and it was clear he was as “normal,” or, rather, “paranormal,” as I could have hoped for, I had an agenda of my own to pursue. “But first, the elementals that survived are in the grove with Mountain. Will you allow him to stay here?”

  “If you wish it, my master, it shall be so.”

  “There’s more to it than that. The animals need barns. Mountain suggested that Heldridge’s Beholders could build them, as a kind of test of their loyalty to you.”

  Even in the dim candlelight his aversion to this idea was evident. “They should not be anywhere near you. If any of their allegiance to him remains, they may seek to strike at you in retaliation for the task he could not complete.” Heldridge, the local lord, had attempted to kill Menessos using a dagger-throwing performer as his assassin. When that failed, Heldridge had fled. Now his people needed to be dispersed to other havens or taken in by Menessos.

  “Regardless, the barns are needed, and quickly. I don’t know who else to ask.”

  “As always, I will give you what you want and more, but you are my Erus Veneficus, and your protection is my utmost concern.” Publicly, Menessos and I maintained the ruse that he was the master and I was simply his court witch; very few knew the truth. “Perhaps I could assign some of my most trusted to guard you.”

  I already had some personal protection: a charm given to me by Beau, a Bindspoken witch and owner of the magic supply shop called Wolfsbane and Absinthe. The charm would only defend me, though. Guards could protect everyone, including Nana and Beverley, and guards could act offensively if required. “All right,” I said. “But I don’t want Goliath.” Menessos’s second-in-command, among other things, Goliath was also the brother of the spirit housed in the protrepticus. He’d overheard his dead brother’s voice coming from my “cell phone” and questioned me. I’d never supplied an answer.

  “It would not be him. He’s been set on another task.”

  “Oh?” When Menessos did not answer the question inherent in that single syllable, I added, “This will be good, Menessos. Your Beholders will work with Heldridge’s men, keep tabs on them, and take action if they try anything.”

  Menessos rolled his shoulders and used the bars to stretch languorously. A wicked little smile spread across his mouth.

  “What?”

  “I’ve just decided who to send to protect you.”

  “Who?”

  “Offerlings. They have many skills, dear Persephone. I know a few females whom it might suit you to have as sentinels.”

  “Women?”

  “I have found that often it is better to have the protection of women.”

  I remembered the one Offerling in particular I’d dealt with at his haven, Risqué. “Tell me you won’t send topless women in ruffly orange short-shorts.”

  “Would your live-in wærewolf like that too much?”

  “He didn’t seem too fond of Risqué, but that isn’t the point.”

  “Then what is?” He licked his lips.

  His fangs seemed longer than usual. Or the candlelight was playing tricks. “One, guards need to be fully clothed if they’re here. Nana would have a cow if they’re not, and, well, Beverley doesn’t need to see that. Two, you need to stop treating women like dress-up dolls. Consider the task, then consider the functionality and practicality of the attire you insist that they wear. If you ask me, thigh-high platform boots should be outlawed.”

  He assessed me with lecherous approval. “But seeing you in them stoked my appetite in ways that have yet to be satisfied.”

  I held up the satellite phone. “You want to call for a car? Promise me no monkeyshines.”

  There was no hesitation as he solemnly said, “This I pledge to you, Persephone, my master: I am dead serious.”

  His words carried a heavy weight, but I was more aware that he’d said my name and no power flowed with it. I wondered if he’d lost the ability to “stroke” me by saying my name, or if it was an “at will” power. I offered him the phone.

  He noted the distance at which I kept myself. “Trust me so little?”

  “Just cautious.”

  He reached for the phone, but his eyes remained steadily on mine. As a show of trust, I stretched forward an extra inch. His grasp curled around my fingers and the phone—but nothing more. He didn’t yank me to him; he didn’t do anything except touch me.

  But that was enough.

  A swift memory flashed to the forefront of my mind, invading my vision. I saw Menessos, walking through hallways unfamiliar to me, but obviously familiar to him. It was as if I were in his mind with him, and he definitely knew where he was going… .

  The music of hollow drums and flutes, of gently plucked strings drifted after him down long stone hallways, and whispered up a wide stairwell. He glanced out a window; below, donkeys pulled carts and people filled the marketplace.

  His hair was longer, well past his shoulders and bound loosely. Shirtless, his skin was bronzed. He wore a pleated skirt secured with a belt, and sandals.

  The afternoon was hot, the air dry, and he was thirsty. He’d been at his duties since dawn and now wanted some honeyed wine. As he approached a certain doorway, a sense of relief filled him, a sense of home and family. He entered quietly, eager, and shut the door silently. The echoing music was lost, replaced by a woman’s soft laughter. He smiled to himself and parted the curtain only enough to peer into the next chamber. There, a man and a woman lay cuddling upon a bed.

  They did not know he wa
s watching.

  The young man in the bed had lean but muscular limbs, and he lay on his back. The woman was sitting up, propped by one hand while the other toyed with the man’s brown hair. One of her legs lay across his abdomen, and he idly stroked up and down her thigh.

  She was thin and elegant, her every motion conveyed the tender grace of love. Her hair cascaded to her waist and was dark like the deepest night. Menessos could tell it had been braided until recently, but now it fanned out over her shoulders with wide waves where it had been plaited.

  Their nakedness made obvious what they had been doing. Yet Menessos felt no pang of jealousy or awkward interruption. He watched them adoring each other, and true joy filled him.

  His throat rumbled softly as he cleared it. Both looked up at once, and each smiled warmly at him. The woman called his name and gestured him forward.

  “Una,” was his whispered reply. “Ninurta.” He joined them, heart swelling to know that he was loved unconditionally by both… .

  I blinked, and saw only the vampire before me in the candlelit cellar talking into the satellite phone, completely unaware that his memory had overtaken me.

  Johnny, Menessos, and I had traded pieces of our souls, pieces bound in strong memories. We did this in order to protect me from being Bindspoken by the Witch Elders Council for breaking—out of necessity—a few of their rules. As the Lustrata, I couldn’t risk having my aura sealed and being rendered magically impotent forever.

  What I’d just seen was the memory Menessos gave me in that sorsanimus spell. I wanted to see it again, to study these legendary people once more, but the memory’s strength had fled.

  Menessos shut the phone off. “A car was already on its way. The driver should arrive in fifteen minutes.” His tongue ran over those long, sharp teeth. “Is Mountain nearby?”

  “Yes. But you fed from him this morning. Will you be able to stop?”

  “I have been a vampire for thousands of years, Persephone,” he scolded me, irritation seasoning his tone.

  “Being undead is new.”

  “I do not feel different in any way that should alarm you.”

  It implied that he did feel different in other ways. I would have questioned him further, but his aura of starving-animal impatience warned me not to delay. In the little time we had, however, there was one more thing I had to hammer out. “Johnny’s asked me to search his mind via the sorsanimus link to find what I can about whoever locked up his tattoos. I have an idea of what to do, and how, but I don’t want to waste time on the trial and error method. Do you know anything that can help?”

  “Are you in a hurry?”

  “A bit.”

  His eyes narrowed with suspicion, but, again, we had little time.

  “He shouldn’t be able to change at all,” I babbled, “because of how his powers are locked up, but he can. It’s difficult, but the fact that he can surpass it attests to his power—”

  “No. It attests to yours.”

  “Huh?”

  “The spell that forcibly transformed Theo included Johnny and the others. It did more than save her life, did it not?”

  I nodded. Though they had all transformed as usual during the last full moon, each of them retained their man-minds while in wolf form.

  “Had he been able to transform any part of himself prior to that?”

  “Only his hands.”

  “And afterward, the Domn Lup proved himself and fully transformed. You are supposed to repeat that particular spell for the wærewolves who fought at the beach, are you not?”

  “I am.”

  “Perhaps if you include Johnny again, it will further weaken those locks.”

  The logic was sound; I’d present the option to Johnny. It might be enough, for now.

  Menessos offered the phone to me through the bars. I stepped closer to retrieve it. Both of his hands shot forward and grabbed my wrist. As fast as it happened, my first impulse was to jerk away, but I didn’t give in to fear. I stood unmoving, unresisting.

  At his lingering touch, the underside of my sternum heated. It was some kind of bonus born of the first hex between us and he could stir this reaction in me by simply saying my name. He called it “kindling my flesh,” and he could make it very pleasurable. Now that he bore my second hex, perhaps simply saying my name didn’t have the same power, but he showed me how much more thorough a second hex could conduct the kindling: a warm kiss blew onto the nape of my neck, setting my spine afire, burning like a slow fuse.

  It wasn’t clear if Menessos felt it; he did not react. He did nothing but hold me and stare into my eyes. “You kissed me, before you killed me,” he whispered. “The memory of you willingly pressing your lips to mine is one I will treasure. Forever.” He released me and the flame on the fuse died away.

  Oh no. This is going to be tougher to resist.

  Leaving him, I pushed the cellar door open and a gust of chilled November air instantly curled cold fingers around me. This airstream dragged me up from the underground as if desperate to separate me from the vampire.

  Mountain stood a few yards away, the kennel keys in his fist. I touched his arm. “You gave blood once today and have been busy with the elementals ever since. A driver will be here in a few minutes, let him donate instead.”

  I watched from my living room window as a limousine pulled into my driveway. The driver got out, his steps scrunching on the limestone, and opened a door. Menessos got in without so much as a backward glance toward the house. When the red taillights streaked up the road, a fraction of the completeness I felt in his presence bled away from me.

  Retreating from the window, I saw Johnny descending the stairs, barefoot. Every step he took revealed his exhaustion. His hair was damp and he wore a skull-patterned button-down shirt. He balanced a pizza box on one hand, an empty two-liter Dr Pepper bottle wobbling dangerously atop it. His other hand, limp and empty, dangled from the arm supported by the guitar-strap sling.

  “Let me take those.” I intercepted him before he’d reached the bottom of the stairs and relieved him of the cardboard and plastic. “Should you be up?”

  “I figured if I can’t manage a shower and the stairs, we shouldn’t try this mind-probing business.” He put his feet firmly on the floor. “But I’m good. Saved you some pizza.”

  “I see that.”

  “And I see that I was right.”

  “About?”

  “The vamp.”

  “How do you know?”

  “If he’d been toast, you wouldn’t have taken so long to get back inside.”

  Together we walked to the kitchen.

  Nana, just finished with the dishes, dried her hands on a kitchen towel. She then ran a hand through her snow-white hair, still adjusting to the new, more modern ’do that had replaced her outdated football helmet of a bouffant.

  Dr. Lincoln and Mountain sat at the dinette responding to Beverley’s many questions about the unicorns, mostly answering, “I don’t know.”

  When Mountain saw me he asked, “Do you have any camping gear?”

  “I have an old tent packed away, but I don’t know what condition it’s in. Been years since I’ve used it. Don’t you want to stay in the house?”

  “Nah, I’ll stay with the elementals.”

  “Temperature’s dropping out there.”

  “I’ll be fine. Plenty of insulation.” He patted his rotund belly. “Someone should monitor them.”

  I relented. “I’ll get the tent.” I went out through the kitchen door and into the garage.

  After hauling the hard-shelled tube that contained the tent down from a shelf, I wiped cobwebs and years of dust from its surface. The last time I had used it was back in college, when Michael LaCroix and I had gone camping with another couple. We’d broken up before the next planned camping trip, the one that ended with the other couple hospitalized and lucky to be alive after a rogue wære attacked them.

  Back in the kitchen, I handed Mountain the somewhat clean tube. “I
’m sorry, but I don’t have a sleeping bag.” Mine was long gone, not that Mountain would have fit in it anyway.

  “That’s okay, Doc’s loaning me one he had in his truck.”

  “Sometimes I have to stay with my patients,” Dr. Lincoln said. “Always have one with me.”

  Mountain bid us a good night and headed out, the tent bundled under an arm and a flashlight in his grip.

  The doc had gathered his things up as well. I walked him to the front door. “Are we going to lose any of them, Doc?”

  “I don’t think so. Mostly minor wounds. That griffon, though. If he gets an infection …” He shrugged. “Wouldn’t let me get close to him. I’ll try to come back tomorrow evening.”

  “Thanks, Dr. Lincoln.” I held the door open for him.

  “I’m going to be over here a lot, tending your new animals, so you may as well call me Geoff.”

  “Deal, Geoff.”

  After I shut the door, Johnny came down the hall toward me. He carried a plate bearing two slices of pizza and held it out to me, features firm with determination. He knew I hadn’t eaten.

  I accepted the plate and picked up a slice. He’d re-heated it for me. Samosky’s pizza was awesome. Before I could take a bite, Beverley, escorted by Nana, appeared for a good-night hug and kiss. Unicorns or not, Nana was making sure she kept to her usual nightly routine.

  Being home amid all this average family activity felt very … satisfying. It’s my destiny to bring balance. As aggravating as it might be at times, this is what it is about. Having this.

  Johnny and I went back to the kitchen. He looked pale so I made him sit down while I poured myself a glass of 7UP. Joining him at the dinette, I said, “I know you’re the tough-guy Domn Lup, but you lost a lot of blood and you need to take it easy.”

  “If you insist.”

  “I do.”

  Despite his fatigue, he managed to wiggle his eyebrows suggestively. “I’m not sure I can even climb all the way back up those stairs tonight.”

  “Would you like to sleep on the couch?”

  “No,” he replied quickly. “I can take the main stairs, they’re straight. It’s the attic stairs that are troublesome. I have to hunker down and twist. It pulls the stitches.”