Wicked Circle c-5 Page 5

  “Konstance is tending to a matter in China that I cannot call her away from. There is no one else.”

  “Then, do not do this at all. It is not right.”

  The Excelsior played his trump. “Father.”

  The word was a stake in Mero’s heart, pinning him to the chair. The man he had fathered was asking something of him. It did not happen often, but when it did, Mero could not help seeing Deric as the sad boy who’d lost his mother when he was nine, and as the boy who would be a king in dangerous times. Some things never change. “If they read me, they will know of Giovanni’s suggested course of action. Worse, they will see the absence of your disagreement with his sordid idea. I would not wish myself into such a predicament, but even more, I would not wish you into it. Konstance is unaware of these things, and it makes her the best choice.”

  The Excelsior kneeled before his advisor’s chair. His hand rested on Meroveus’s knee. “I trust you will not let those unfortunate things happen.”

  Mero’s son had kept from him the intelligence concerning the Lustrata, and now he was willing to risk the existence they both clung to in order to gain intelligence about Menessos. “Menessos Made me because I asked him to. When you made your request, he did not refuse you either. Do you hate him now?”

  “No,” the Excelsior replied. “But there are things he did not tell me, things he did not tell you. For that, I question whether or not I trust him.” The Excelsior resumed his spot before the fire. “After this, I will know if I can, or if I can’t. Because of her ties to him, if she truly is the Lustrata, I need to know more than ever if he is worthy of my trust.”

  What the Excelsior wanted from him was not unlike many instances that had occurred when Deric had yet lived and reigned as a mortal king. Mero had not refused him. Though he understood what the Supreme Vampire longed to know, he also understood that Giovanni had expertly planted that seed of doubt about Menessos and his intentions.

  Mero could not refuse Deric now, either.

  Mustering his resolve, Mero stood. He gripped Deric’s shoulder. When next he spoke, it was not to the Excelsior; it was to his son. “As always, I will do as you wish.”

  A grateful smile rounded the Excelsior’s lips just slightly. “The plane leaves at eleven thirty tonight. Your arrival will coincide with the setting sun in Athens.”

  Mero was at the door when his son added, “I will have the official order drawn up for Menessos. It will be delivered to you when the plane arrives in Dulles for refueling.”

  “What of the woman? What if she is the Lustrata?”

  “If she is, she must be subdued and brought here.”

  “And if she is not?”

  The Excelsior hesitated. “Eliminate her.”

  Meroveus emerged from the limousine and crossed the tarmac. His dark curls were unbound, and the wind tossed them into his face as he scrutinized the jet. It was the big one, the Gulfstream V-SP. It seemed ostentatious to transport a single traveler on a plane that could comfortably seat fifteen. Athens, however, was a twelve-hour flight. Of VEIN’s fleet, only this larger jet had the fuel capacity to make the trip.

  Halfway to the aircraft, he paused and dug a small cellular phone from his pocket. This was not his usual phone. For emergencies, he always carried a prepaid disposable—one not traceable by VEIN. The display gleamed brightly when he opened the phone to dial. He punched numbers from memory.

  On the third ring, he heard Goliath Kline say, “Talk to me.”

  “Heldridge Ellington gained audience with the Excelsior. In a little more than twenty-four hours, I will bring the shabbubitum to serve their libations to your master.” Mero then shut the device, squeezing it until the pieces popped and cracked, crushed in his palm. He reduced the phone to dust, letting it sift to the ground.

  Let us see how you respond, Menessos. It will tell me much.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  As Eris drove away, I jogged behind, heading for the fountain where our ritual supplies rested. The taillights weren’t out of view when my satellite phone rang from my back pocket. I jerked it free and a name flashed on the little screen to identify the caller.

  Menessos.

  Mr. Manipulator himself. Do you know what I did already? I swallowed my anger and answered sweetly. “Hello?”

  “Persephone,” Menessos said. “Are you well?” Something about his voice was different.

  “Absolutely.” I arranged the glass hurricane globes into the cardboard box I’d placed beside the fountain. “And yourself?”

  “I am fine.”

  No, he wasn’t. He was hoarse. Ever since I’d staked him and applied a second hex to him, I’d been aware of his death every morning and his regained life every evening. While he tended to die gently, his sunset awakenings were violent. I’d felt him screaming his way back to life before the ritual started. Even so, the pity I’d felt earlier was in short supply now. “Liar.”

  “You are correct in refuting my statement,” he said sullenly, “but mortals often downplay their replies to such questions. It is unnecessary for you to impugn my character over it.”

  If I could have reached through the phone, I’d have smacked him.

  “Persephone?”

  “Hmmm?”

  “Our fears have been realized.”

  Unmoving, I felt like I’d been kicked in the gut. “Heldridge?”

  “He gained an audience with the Excelsior. You need to come home. Immediately.”

  With one box of supplies on the passenger-side floor and the other on the seat, I arrived at Eris’s apartment over the Arcane Ink Emporium. The Slut wasn’t here.

  There were, however, lights on upstairs. So, retrieving my wet clothes from the narrow crevice that Corvette owners call a trunk and lifting the boxes stashed up front, I hefted it all up the metal steps.

  Going home had been my desire even before Menessos had called, and now I had a good excuse. Knocking on the door and hoping they heard me over the music playing inside, I had time to rehearse my announcement once more before the door opened.

  Zhan relieved me of the boxes. I put the Corvette keys on top. She carried the supplies toward the black door of Eris’s “woogie room,” where she kept all her magical materials.

  Nana and Eris sat in dining chairs near a table lamp missing a shade. My mother’s wet hair clued me in that she’d just showered, and she wore only sleep pants and a bra. Nana jabbed a needle into Eris’s shoulder joint, stitching the flap of skin where her arm used to be. Eris winced.

  My horror must have been evident. After a shallow but derisive snort, Nana explained, “Her stitches broke.” Eris squirmed as Nana sewed, tightened the thread, tied it off, and cut it.

  The wound was ugly enough before. I shut the door behind me and approached.

  “I felt them pop when I fell down the embankment trying to get you,” Eris said.

  Crap. Here we go again.

  Nana smeared Neosporin on a gauze pad and placed it over the wound, securing it with medical tape. “Bled all over the place, but her wet red outfit didn’t exactly show it.”

  “Did you—”

  “Sterilized the thread and the needles.” She passed Eris a T-shirt. “I’m not stupid, Persephone.”

  Nana was more than her I-need-a-cigarette cranky. That meant she was in pain. “Did you—”

  “Took Aleve. I’m icing my knee every fifteen minutes and am in the off-phase right now.” She tugged the back of the T-shirt down as Eris struggled into it.

  Zhan returned. “How are you?”

  “Knocked my head, but it isn’t bad.” Before anything else could be said, I blurted, “I have to go to Cleveland. Right now.”

  “Why?” Nana demanded, going from cranky to pouty.

  With both of them injured, I felt guilty about leaving them. “Bad stuff,” I said. Without a word, Zhan was in motion, gathering her things and mine, packing.

  The Slut’s distinctive motor roared outside, pulling up. “What kind of bad stuff?” Nana
pressed.

  Pounding footfalls outside gave me reason to avoid answering. I opened the door. Lance lugged two large pizza boxes and a pair of two-liters inside.

  He must resemble his father, I thought. With sandy blond hair, he didn’t get his looks from our mother. Lance was also trying to grow a goatee without much success. He sort of resembled Shaggy from the Scooby-Doo cartoons.

  The smell of the pizza instantly reminded me of how hungry I was.

  Lance rounded the table and set the boxes down. “Does weird shit happen around you all the time?”

  “Lately it does.”

  He gave me a reproachful glare as he strode into the kitchen. I helped Nana and Eris twist their chairs back to the table. Lance brought cups, an ice bucket, paper plates, napkins, and two wet rags. “I put some soap on these,” he said. After he’d put the other items down, he gave one rag to Nana. Sitting down next to Eris, he washed her hand.

  She protested, “I just got out of the shower.”

  It would have been better to let her figure out how to do it herself, but he was reacting as any good son would, coddling her. He wasn’t thinking about the future, a few years from now, when he’d want to be on his own. If he made her dependent on him now, it would get ugly then.

  Or maybe he was doting on her because Eris was so focused on me these days. He’d had her to himself all his life, and tending her was a way to maintain her attention.

  At least I had one reason to not feel guilty about leaving.

  Nana must have caught the accusation in his tone; she didn’t press me about the “bad stuff.” Eris, however, wasn’t aware of all the nuances where Menessos and I were concerned. “So what’s going on that you have to leave?” she asked.

  Lance perked up. “You’re leaving?”

  I nodded. “Zhan and I have to go to Cleveland as soon as possible.”

  “What’s happened?” Eris asked.

  “An already existing problem seems to have escalated.” The irony that those words could mean the situation in Cleveland and mean the situation here wasn’t lost on me.

  Eris wrenched away from the washing Lance was providing to stand and curl her fingers around mine. “Don’t be so vague. Tell me.”

  “I can’t.”

  Sorrow dimmed her. “So you’re just going to leave me like this? You said you’d stay and help.”

  Behind her, Lance stood, too. I could feel the anger he was trying to hide. Damn it. “This is important or I wouldn’t be going. Eris . . . you’ll be fine.”

  Lance openly glared at me.

  “You’re in good hands. Lance is here. Nana’s here. I have to do this.”

  “I understand.” She sank into her seat. “Your life doesn’t shut down because of my wounds.”

  Oooo. My eyes narrowed with resentment at her brilliant guilt-trip statement. It didn’t matter. Nothing she could say would make me revise my plans.

  Lance gathered up the washcloths and made for the kitchen. He motioned for me to follow.

  I was certain that this was going to be bad.

  “How are you going to get to Cleveland?” Nana called as I followed Lance out.

  I was grateful for the delay. “Dunno. Zhan and I could get a rental car, I guess.”

  The moment of silence that followed wore thin as Nana dug into the food and my excuse to stay out of the kitchen dissipated.

  A polite five feet away from Lance, I spoke so as not to be heard over the music in the other room. “What did you want?”

  Plucking the Corvette keys from the counter where Zhan had obviously set them, he threw them at me. “Leave now.”

  The keys hit me in the chest. I winced but caught them before they fell. “What did I do?”

  “Do you see her?” he whispered hotly. “All that she’s already suffered for you isn’t enough. Because of you, her stitches were ripped. Because of you, she went into the damn river! Fully under the surface! She came in here shivering cold. What if she gets pneumonia? Her wound was open in the river water. What if it gets infected?”

  “Lance—”

  “Save it. The doctor gave her specific orders, and because of you, all that’s blown to hell. Just leave before you do her any more damage.”

  He left the kitchen, plastering on a fake grin as he shunned me. “Hey, Mom, I told Seph she could take the ’Vette. It’ll save them some time. You don’t mind, do you?”

  With arms crossed, I trailed him into the dining/living room area. Eris, chewing on a piece of pizza, said, “Not at all.”

  I was glad that Lance continued on to his room. I hugged Nana good-bye. “You’re going right this second?” she asked. “Don’t you even want to wash up and eat?”

  “I’d love to, but this is critical, Nana.” I raised an eyebrow and hoped she’d understand I didn’t want to say too much. Of course we could easily have stayed longer, but between Lance’s anger and my mother’s inquisitiveness, it was best to leave immediately. Zhan and I could grab some dinner once we were on the road. Then I embraced Eris.

  When I stood up, Lance was back. “I’ll carry your bags, sis, and get my hug by the car.”

  Sis? He was laying it on thick. He swiped the bags from Zhan’s arms and exited first.

  “Persephone,” Nana called.

  Please have understood I don’t want to talk about Menessos in front of Eris. “Yeah?”

  She opened her mouth, then shut it. “I don’t need to wish you luck. You always work things out.”

  Zhan was just outside the door. “How about I drive, Seph?”

  I gave her the keys. I’d left it unlocked, so Lance had already shoved the bags into the mini-trunk and was leaning on the car, arms crossed, waiting for me.

  “Why did you stop calling her Mom?”

  “Because she started with the guilt trip.”

  “Well, it is all your fault.”

  I’d known this argument was brewing. Resigned to it, I said, “She dove in front of those bullets. I didn’t make her. I wasn’t even in the circle with her.”

  “The doctors could have saved her arm if she hadn’t stayed to finish the spell.”

  “She made that choice too! Or have you forgotten her threatening Zhan with a knife to keep the medics back?”

  He pursed his lips, then snapped, “Saving your boyfriend from a spell or two was more important to you than saving her arm! She did it for you.”

  “Yeah. She. Did. It.”

  “It wouldn’t have happened if not for you. You don’t have any sense of responsibility, do you?”

  I dropped my head down. If you only knew.

  He read my lowered chin as some kind of concession. He pushed away from the car. “Get going. Take this.” He shoved something at me. I dropped it and had to pick it up.

  He was three paces away before I had a grip on the little book. “Lance.”

  He kept walking. “Got no time for you, sis. Mom needs help.”

  “Yeah. As long as you do everything for her she won’t learn to do anything for herself.”

  He spun back at the bottom of the stairs. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? If I quit helping her? That would punish her good, right? Well, one of us needs to physically help her. Maybe I can’t buy her a big-ass apology truck, but I can be here.”

  “You’re absolutely right.” That shut him up. I continued. “And in a few years, Lance, what then? What happens when you meet someone you want to spend your life with? What happens when you’ve made Mom dependent on you and you want to leave?”

  “Like you’re leaving her now? Is this a good enough payback for her leaving you, sis? Are you satisfied now?”

  “This isn’t about me, Lance. It’s about her. You’re not helping her if you don’t help her learn to do things for herself.”

  “You are so twisted! Maybe she abandoned you, but she’s always been there for me. I won’t leave her.”

  It seemed he had mastered the snotty little brother routine. “Of course you won’t leave her. Not tonight. N
ot next week or next month, either, but unless you are ready to give up your whole life and have yourself surgically attached to her, you’re not her new right arm either.”

  “I’ve got nobody else,” he snapped and pointed at the book. “You do.”

  As he stormed up the metal stairs, I examined the book in my hands. It was a small photo album. Inside were pictures of my father.

  On our way out of the city Zhan asked, “Why did Menessos call us back?”

  I shut the photo album. It was too dark to see it clearly and my head was reeling anyway. I was glad to have her distract me. “Heldridge met with the Excelsior.”

  She didn’t know I had mastered her master, but she knew we’d been hoping Goliath found Heldridge before he made it to VEIN. “Oh.” Her reply wasn’t a light, airy vowel sound. It was the kind that was launched in a normal tone but dropped into the lowest of her alto tones, transforming it into an Oh-ewww. “Did he elaborate?”

  “No.”

  Zhan checked the rearview mirror again and changed lanes. It was nearly eight o’clock on a Thursday evening. Luckily the Steelers’ game was an away one, so traffic was light. I could guess the information I’d just given her had put her into alert mode. She would be aware of the vehicles behind us, maybe pull off a few times to see if we were being followed.

  She understood the kind of bad things happening to cause our sudden trek home.

  She was silent for several heartbeats. “We should find a restaurant, since you haven’t eaten all day.”

  “Wonderful idea.” My stomach growled at the thought of food. “Afterward, I want to go home and shower, then head to the den.”

  “Does Menessos know that? He may intend for us to—”

  “I intend to see Johnny before I go downtown.”

  I didn’t need to say more; she would do what I said. As the Erus Veneficus of his haven—the fancy title of a court witch—I outranked her and could make such decisions. Good thing, too. It was best if no one at the haven knew I was farther up the chain of command than they thought.