"Late spring."
Nana's fingers twitched as she calculated. "Last year in the late spring or early summer… I assume they took a six-week vacation, right?"
How'd she know? My breath caught. "It wasn't a vacation?"
Nana shook her head. "Every waere I've ever known of started a six-week vacation that encompassed their fortieth and forty-first full moons, or the beginning of their fourth year as a waere."
"I thought you avoided waeres."
She rolled her eyes. "Doesn't mean I didn't know of things going on with the waeres other witches knew and befriended."
"Okay. And?"
"And, as we have covens, their kind have dens. Like us, they have a network much deeper than the surface shows and they must be indoctrinated in it. So, they maintain a 'normal' life, being guided and prepared by their den-keeper. It makes the surface reflect waeres as they would have themselves seen. It's no different for us. Witches want the non-magic-using humans to see us as beautiful and spiritual when young and as sweet, cookie-grannies when we grow old. But you and I know the truth is more complicated. The waeres want to be seen as average folk, but stronger and" — her voice mocked casualness—"oh, so what if they shed their skin for fur once a month? They kennel, so all is well."
Tone back to normal, she went on, "The vampires want to be seen as intelligent and gorgeous, as the wealthy elite, and they buy their blood to stem the slaughter. It's just business and everyday humans benefit, of course. While the fey, they're tooth-fairy delicate and harmless."
She poked her cigarette at the ashtray, pushing the ashes into a mound. "Even the non-magic-users. They puff up against us all like they have the law on their side. But it's not truly the laws that have kept the rest of us at bay. They're organized and we aren't… or weren't." She took a raspy breath. "We're people with power or wings or fur or fangs. But they're the people with weapons of mass destruction. The balance is so tenuous."
I was thrust back, to the memory of the vampire protocol test at the Eximium. When Heldridge asked, "Does your Goddess never cause harm?" I'd thought to myself that by allowing unpleasantness to transpire in small doses, a tenuous balance would be maintained. After spending a few heartbeats arguing with myself that this couldn't mean I was supposed to tolerate what Johnny had done and see it as "unpleasantness in a small dose," my voice came softly, if irritably, "What does this have to do with getting Johnny back here?"
She stubbed out the cigarette. "Bear with me; I have to set the stage a little. The Lustrata legend has two ancient documents to support it, but neither are whole. The Stellatus Tablets are broken, and the Lux Scrolls partially burned. The information is not complete and it is not perfect. Elders dispute over the translations and the guesses made concerning the fragments and the missing parts. They'll never know so they'll never agree because their agendas are all different."
"Okay," I said. "Your disclaimer is noted. What do we know?"
"There have been two previously documented Lustratas."
"Only two?"
"Are you going to interrupt every point?"
My mouth shut and my expression turned beatific.
Nana continued. "Stories are told, updated, and retold through bards, like Johnny. Though such references are few and mostly nonfactual, they remain far more numerous than the actual relics. Much of what bards and storytellers have told has come to be taken as fact, although it shouldn't be, as such folks do take liberties. Poetic license. These bard-stories mostly romanticized the Lustrata. Johnny, a waere, wrote of you as an enemy of the vampires. His lyrics went something like:
Impurity rising from under the world,
Dead above ground, diseases unfurled.
"But the vampire bards see you as the enemy of the waere. I found one who said:
Lustrata walks,
unspoiled into the light.
Sickle in hand,
she stalks through the night
Wearing naught but her mark and silver blade.
The moonchild of ruin, she becomes Wolfsbane.
"They see what they want to see, do you follow? They see you as the justice they want, not true justice. It's not simply these two either. I even found fairy references! And as I said, the Elders have conflicting takes on it—and Xerxadrea won't be oblivious to either side."
"You mean not even the witches agree?"
"They all have their own motives, their own agendas."
"So you're saying the different sides will try to get the Lustrata to choose them over another side or other sides?"
Nana made an uncomfortable face. "Yes and no."
"Nana."
"It's not that simple. It's not like two or three or five different factions will toady to you to gain your service. I mean, after they see the sign, some will, but—"
"But?"
"Some witches think the Lustrata is the enemy."
Of course. Can't be a simple, smooth path I must walk. "When you say some, how many do you mean?"
"I don't have a head count!"
"A percentage?"
She considered. "A third."
"That's a lot."
She waved off the idea. "Less than half and nothing you can change yet. Now listen." She rubbed her knee. "Even the regular mortal humans have a few obscure references that, in my opinion, are veiled links to the Lustrata though they'll never admit it. Bottom line is, we're all in this. We're all at risk." She stopped, turned her cigarette case over and over in her hands.
Something occurred to me. "Wait, wait! It's not just some witches either. When you say the waeres and vampires each have their ideas of justice, you mean that if I, as the Lustrata, don't agree with their purposes or if I act against them, then they will renounce me and become my enemy, right?"
Nana gave me a sheepishly sorry smile. "I hadn't thought that far into it." She rubbed her knee again. "I'll look into it."
And the truth that I hadn't seen hit me. "You've been using the scrying crystal."
Her expression turned stern but scared.
"Your door was open; I saw it sitting on your dresser." Now it all made sense. Why it was there, why her knees hurt. Scrying, like any other power, has a price. I was willing to bet the universe taxed her in the arthritis department. "What did you see?"
"Everyone's different agendas—and not just where the Lustrata is concerned—work against each other." Her wrinkled hand rose to her neck and her fingers worked as if she'd loosen a tightly wound scarf. But she wore no scarf. "You must find a way to maintain the balance," she said. "With the numbers the normal-humans have, and the technological destructibility at their fingertips, if you fail, the consequences will be insurmountable destruction."
Chapter 26
My mind refused to acknowledge the mega-ginormous weight of her words.
Synapses filed it away as Bad Things that Could Happen instead of End of the World. "Okay," I heard myself say calmly, meanwhile thinking: Why am I not running to hide under my bed? "But still, what does that have to do with Johnny coming back here?"
"You need him."
"The hell I do."
Her mouth went crooked. "If not now, you will soon."
"Doesn't mean he has to live here."
"He is the chosen protector of the Lustrata. For that," she insisted, "he must be close."
"Says who?"
"Do you remember the Tarot reading I did for him?"
My eyes shut and my heart sank, knowing a long explanation was coming. "Yes. You found something in your research to corroborate or define or link to that?"
Nana leaned to look out the window. "I don't see Beverley!"
As soon as she said the words, panic rose up within me. My feet had me moving toward the garage door. It opened and Ares pushed through; Beverley came in right behind him. "When's dinner?" she asked.
I nearly collapsed to my knees with relief. The adrenaline in my system stalled like lead in my veins. "Soon," I said, a bit breathless. "Go wash up."
Beverley an
d Ares charged into the house and in seconds the water was running. I was visibly shaking from the unused adrenaline. Nana got up and grumbled. "I'll get the salad together. You pour yourself a glass of wine."
Nana encouraging the consumption of alcohol? I just leaned on the counter.
A moment later, she shoved a glass into my hand.
"The tablet made a reference," she said as she started to tear lettuce into a bowl, "to an unburned portion of the scroll that has been translated: the Lustrata, flanked by an aberrant pack of wolfen. It's been taken to mean a pack that does not return to man-form. But I think it's a pack whose leader never loses his man-mind."
"That doesn't explain why he has to be here."
"He's a pack animal. He must be with his pack."
"So you want the lot of them to move in?"
"He must be with you."
"I'm not pack! I'm a witch. Besides, he obviously doesn't want to be with me."
Nana ignored my protest. "The Lux Scroll, being in poor condition, has been pieced together in places and in one such place the text makes reference to Lupercus. He's the god of shepherds to some, the wolf-god to others. Our translators have theories about how either of these meanings can be taken in the context of the scroll. However, I showed a photocopy of that scroll section to Dr. Lincoln, and he, with his minor in Latin, said he thought it was two words: lupus and erctum. If you take the LUP and ERC most witches would assume it to be Lupercus. If Dr. Lincoln is right, lupus is, obviously, "wolf." Erctum or herctum is an inheritance. If Johnny has been given the wolf-inheritance that makes him retain his human sensibilities…"
"What if it's simply word-order confusion? Latin has convoluted rules for mixing and grouping words. It could be simple: as a waere he already has the inheritance of the wolf."
"Regardless, both the scroll and the tablets indicate that the Lustrata is somehow closely associated with a pack. And a pack needs a leader, an alpha. You don't have to be a member of the pack. You're their sovereign because you're his sovereign."
"His sovereign my ass."
Beverley giggled from the doorway. Nana pointed a finger at me. "I will start a swear jar if you don't mind your tongue, Persephone."
"Do I have time for more cartoons?" Beverley asked.
"Yes," Nana said. "I need to finish the salad then start the pasta."
"Can we have garlic bread too?"
"Good idea." Nana went to the freezer and pulled out a long red package and handed it to me. "Preheat the oven."
When Beverley had gone, she said to me, "In the Tarot reading I did, the fourth card, the base of the problem, the motivation that drove him was the High Priestess, your namesake. It was intuition. And I remember that Prometheus was the sixth card, future influences. Johnny would have to sacrifice something to gain something else of greater value. And I told him the final outcome would be spontaneous and intuitive at the same time, but that intuition can be conflicting. Hermes on the Magician card meant his potential would be pointed out to him and that he would have to choose whether to develop it or not." She rubbed her brow. "Persephone, has he gone from here thinking that he's developing his potential somewhere else? Has he sacrificed what you two were building to gain something else?"
"Maybe." The band getting a recording contract would qualify. I took a big gulp of the wine.
"Can he not see that this is where the greater value lies, this is what he must develop, his position with the Lustrata?" Her eyes were moist, shining. " So much depends on it. You must make him see that!"
I put the glass down and took her hand in mine. "I'm not going to go running after him, Nana, but if he shows up to kennel tomorrow, I promise I'll try to talk to him."
I had to meditate. There was time before dinner.
I went up to my room and pulled the bed from the wall. Sprinkling coarse salt around it, I made a thin salt-circle, then lay down and whispered my meditation opening. The switch flipped, and I created my usual wakeful dreamscape. I washed my face with the cool water from the river beside the ash trees, then sat back to wait for Amenemhab. The sun was warm and bright and with my bare toes stuck in the water, I tried releasing my negativity, doubt, and fear, but it felt like my chakra-faucet was clogged.
When Amenemhab trotted up, I pulled my toes from the water and stood, putting my hand up to stop him before he spoke. "You were right. When I was here last, I was being stupid. I left resolved to face the problem and fix it." I started pacing. "But things came up. Johnny stayed with friends so I didn't see him. The band was being showcased Friday night at midnight. I went, intending to tell him once they finished playing." I stopped both talking and walking. My eyes were burning.
I forced down the tears and picked up where I left off but stood still. "When the set was done, he pulled these women up on stage. They pawed him in front of everyone before exiting the stage together. As they got to the backstage area, one of them kissed him. I went home, and proceeded on minimal sleep to the Eximium. And while I was there, Nana said he gathered his things and left."
Starting to pace again, I went on. "Nana also says I have to get him back to the house because he's some chosen protector of the Lustrata, but I don't know that I want him back at the house." I stopped, sank to the ground. "He used me." My fingers picked at the grass.
Amenemhab came alongside me and sat, ears pricked forward as he stared across the world before us. It made him appear stoic.
"You were right," I said again. "So much has changed and little of it was under my control. Last month, I lived alone. I wrote a small column, did some Tarot readings, and rented my acreage to local farmers. Now I'm responsible for Nana and Beverley, my column is nationwide. I'm stained and I know more about the vampires and WEC than I ever imagined I'd know. I wanted Johnny but I didn't know if it was right. I gave in and within about forty-eight hours, he—he couldn't even give me two days to wrap my head around another big change in my life." A few hot tears poured from my eyes. To my credit, though, I at least sounded angry and not pathetic. "That doesn't make me stupid. That doesn't make me weak."
"I agree. You have been rash and taking a short time to consider the ramifications and be certain before proceeding is practical."
My hand strayed over to stroke Amenemhab's back. His fur was coarse under my fingertips, but it soothed me anyway.
"Persephone," the jackal said softly, pushing his paw at the ground. "You went there to do the right thing, to take the risk with your heart. I encouraged you to do that, and for this pain, I am sorry. You cannot control the actions of others. You can only control how you respond."
"I know," I said quietly.
"I didn't realize you were this deeply invested already."
Invested? Was that the barren term society used now? As if emotions were a Wall Street transaction. Was the romanticism of "head over heels" gone? Was puppy love archaic?
I asked, "Do you know what it truly means to be bound to a vampire?"
He put a paw on my thigh. "Do you know what it truly means?"
Recalling the reactions I had to Menessos and jolts I experienced at the Eximium, I said, "I'm finding out."
"This is who you have chosen to be, is it not?"
"Yes, yes. We've been over that, but being bound to a vampire scares me."
The jackal cocked his head. "It should scare you. Menessos is infinitely more powerful than an ordinary vampire."
"The way I see it, that's all the more reason to fear and avoid him."
"The way I see it, that's all the more reason to want him on your side."
"My side?" I stood, incredulous. "My side? As if I'm the one recruiting him or forcing him against his will into the service of this mere mortal?" I shook my head. "No way."
Amenemhab looked at me as if uncertain. "You are no 'mere' mortal."
"If he knew I was the Lustrata, that'd be reason enough for him to want to control me." My voice went softer. "He'd use me too."
"You don't know?"
"Know what?"
"Of course… it all makes sense now."
"What?" I demanded.
"Persephone, you have been so busy trying to define who you've become that you can't see who you've become. You're not this or that, the supporting granddaughter or the role model to Beverley. Not the Lustrata or Johnny's lover. Not a marked witch or someone of interest to Menessos." He leaned closer. "You're all of that and more. Stop drawing those lines of separation and see what you are."
I couldn't help thinking of Johnny's letter/song. You create your bound'ries… will they be lines you won't color outside? Lines you can step across? Can you not redefine?
Amenemhab continued, "Justice is a woman. You've seen statues of Justice, haven't you?"
"Yes."
"Do you think this is coincidence?"
Justice held the scales; she balanced things. "No. But she's blind." I thought of the Eldrenne.
"No, she isn't. She's merely blindfolded. To show that she weighs the scales fairly, without favor to or fear of the parties involved. She is not swayed by their identity, nor their politics or wealth or power or lack thereof. Her decisions are based on solid facts, on truth, on actions and consequences. The blindfold is meant to keep personal feelings out of the equation and to let her double-edged sword fall equally without emotion."
"Without emotion," I repeated. "Johnny wanted me to learn to make my expressions blank so I didn't give my thoughts away to foes." Indifferently, I added, "That'll be the only expression he'll ever see from me again."
"There is value to his lesson, when facing an enemy. But your tone distresses me."
"Why? I'm to keep emotions out of the equation, right?"
"Wrong! Emotions are valuable! If you have nothing of your own to love, no pleasure to keep, no personal stakes to fight for… then why would you fight at all?"
Staring at him, I couldn't speak.
"You have the lineage of witches to empower you. You have the experience of your grandmother to guide you. You have a world to balance, and if you do, Beverley will inherit a better place." His voice softened. "But you can't do it just for them. You will fail if you are merely altruistic. Witches and waeres and vampires are a part of you. You bind all this together! You wouldn't relinquish your ties to Nana or to Beverley; you didn't relinquish the binding to Menessos and, no matter what, you are bound to Johnny now as well. This hurt will fade or fester, depending on how you choose to feel about it." He let that sink in. "You will come to see that all of it has been creating—and will continue to hone—the warrior you must become to be the Lustrata."
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