The Quarterlord’s mouth worked, but no sound came out.
“Offerlings! Attend your master!” Goliath’s voice boomed into the stunned silence of the theater. People rushed up the ramp. Offerling blood was imbued with the essence of their master, twice the amount Beholders had. Drinking of them provided him sustenance greater than the blood of the unmarked.
Twenty minutes later, Goliath instructed Beholders to bring a stretcher. They conveyed their master offstage to his personal quarters. Mero followed. Goliath blocked him from entering. “You will let me by,” Mero said.
Goliath shook his head. “No. I won’t.” Behind him, Seven and Mark hurried into the back chamber. A woman with blond ringlets and red eyes directed the Beholders as they carried Menessos in after the pair.
“As senior officer representing the Excelsior, I could have denied him the sustenance of his people and kept him virtually incapacitated while my investigation continued.”
“It was your bitch who did this to him.” Goliath’s features hardened. The corner of his mouth crooked up and the mask of a criminal contemplating wickedness was complete. “So your token gesture means shit to me.”
“Goliath!” Menessos’s voice wafted from deep in the chamber. “Bring him to me.”
The Beholders emerged from the back room, leaving with the stretcher. One of them said, “Risqué asked that you give her a few minutes before bringing the guest in.” Goliath allowed the Beholders out, then he gestured Mero and the two women begrudgingly toward the seating area in the front room.
Mero ordered Ailo and Talto to sit at the leather in-the-round couches, and the three of them waited until the Offerling had tended her master’s legs. Carrying the remains of his torn pants, she left. Goliath, Seven, and Mark remained with him.
Through the door the Offerling had failed to close, Mero heard Menessos saying, “You need to go, to keep the others calm. Assure them I am fine, that all will be well.”
“But—” Seven began.
“Do as I ask. Do it now.”
She and Mark departed, the former casting a worried glance at Mero on her way out. Mark called out, “I’m on door duty, Goliath.”
When the outer door shut, Mero stood, anticipating that he would now be allowed to see Menessos. As he neared the entry, Goliath asked, “When did she mark you? How?”
Mero stepped into view. Menessos was on the bed, covered by a sheet, but he was sitting up and in the process of unbuttoning his shirt. “Perhaps it is best if he not answer,” Mero said.
Goliath spun and gave him a scathing scowl.
“The less you know, the better it will be for you.”
“You don’t scare me.” Goliath’s voice was low, like a warning.
Menessos pulled his arms from the suit shirt casually, but the note of his voice was urgent as he said, “Goliath, the Advisor and I must speak privately.”
The Alter Imperator’s struggle with this request was obvious, but Goliath bowed slightly and said, “As you wish, my master.”
“Entertain the ladies for me,” Mero said as he passed.
Goliath did not answer, but shut the door behind him.
“His loyalty to you is impressive.” Mero appraised the room’s size, the stones of the wall broken only by a thick, rough-hewn mahogany mantel that encircled the room at chest level. Trinkets were set upon it here and there. Furniture was sparse, and a large mahogany poster-bed swathed in black silk dominated the area.
“Indeed.” Menessos tossed the shirt to the floor. “It has been too long.”
“I wish the circumstances were better.”
“I wish you had left the shabbubitum in their stones.” He groaned and rolled each shoulder as if to loosen stiff muscles. Under the sheet that covered him, his legs stretched, testing. “Their inquiry hurts like hell.”
“Sorry about Liyliy’s boots.”
“Easy for you to say.”
Mero spread his arms slightly. “I figured interrupting her at that point might be dangerous. My concern might have been misconstrued.”
Menessos conceded both points with a tip of his head. “All things considered, I am glad you remembered our old game. Bring the chair.” He gestured toward the far corner.
Relieved and assured that Menessos was not changed for the long years since they had last spoken, he reached for the chair, then froze and assessed its nearby mate. “Are these—?”
Menessos nodded. “The castle in Caernarvonshire.”
“I heard they had sold everything a few years back.” Mero gaped at the high-backed William and Mary seats.
“I had them reupholstered. Come.”
“Amazing.” He carefully lifted the antique, carried it to the bedside and sat. That Menessos cared to hold on to trinkets from the past was another sign that encouraged Mero. “I hope whatever you have in mind is worth the damage you just took.”
Menessos affected a calm demeanor. “I relinquish my status.”
“A new Quarterlord will be appointed.”
“Goliath will have my haven.”
“He is too young—!”
“I’m not saying he will be Quarterlord, but he will have my people. This will become the Cleveland haven and Goliath will become the haven master. Whoever the Excelsior appoints as Quarterlord can move their haven to Chicago. My old building remains empty.”
Mero shook his head and sat forward. “You know what will happen. Goliath will be challenged by older vamps who long for such status.”
“He can take it.”
His old friend seemed to have it all worked out. Yet he had the distinct feeling this conversation was being steered as well. “Are you certain?”
“Absolutely.”
Mero sat back. “I will do what I can.”
“How did you secure the release of the shabbubitum?”
Without giving Menessos the exact details, he answered, “I filtered their souls through apples and amber, trapping a piece of each in the gemstones. Via the stones, I can exert my will.”
Menessos considered that. “Was it your idea to release them?”
“No. Heldridge requested it.”
“Damn that fool.” Menessos rubbed his temple. “Deric went for it on his word?”
“Not his. A clever bit of vengeful redirection swayed him.”
Menessos was silent, then said, “Giovanni.”
“His grudge is as ugly and as permanent as his scars.”
“He should be dead. That he is not should make him grateful enough to get over it.”
“Time does not heal all wounds.”
Silence followed, then Menessos broke it by casually asking, “So your son did not send you here with a stake in addition to that scroll?”
Mero shook his head side to side. “No stake.”
“And what of my witch?”
Mero tilted his head, curious. The underlying intensity in those words made him think this was the point they’d been coming to all along. “That is more difficult to say.”
“Call Liyliy back.” It was not a request.
“I cannot.”
The air crackled between them and Mero felt the other vampire tap the ley. Menessos leaned forward, sneering. “If Persephone is harmed, the scope of my wrath will surmount any torment you’ve ever known.”
The threat was frightening, but it was equally telling. “She’s more than just the Lustrata to you.”
“Mero.” Menessos’s voice was like a taut string, ready to snap. “I heard you tell Liyliy to bring her back. You did not specify ‘alive.’ Call. Her. Back.”
“It is not that I am unwilling to call her back, I am unable.” Mero stood, paced away. “On her way out, Liyliy stole from me the necklace bearing the amber.”
“You fool!” Menessos threw the sheet back.
Before he could get up, Mero placed a restraining hand on Menessos’s shoulder. He said, “Stop,” but Menessos threw him off and thrust his legs over the side of the bed. Spreading smears of red appeared on
the bandages. “Stop!” Mero shouted. “You’re not ready to be up yet.”
The door opened and Goliath stood there waiting for his master to give a signal.
“Your wounds are deep,” Mero said. “She practically cut you to the bone.” Feeding on his Offerlings would accelerate the healing process, but it was not instantaneous. If Menessos was able to walk around without ripping his stitches before the dawn, he’d be very lucky. “Please, sit back and allow me to explain,” Mero said.
A tense moment passed before Menessos gestured at Goliath, who demonstrated his reluctance in the slowness with which he shut the door.
As Menessos reclaimed his former position, Mero sank into the seat. He rose again to retrieve the silken sheet that had slithered to the floor when tossed aside. “Your witch is in no danger,” he said, spreading it over Menessos’s lower half. “Liyliy has the necklace in her possession. She’s just going to flee. It is the confinement of her sisters we must worry about. They don’t yet know the necklace is gone.”
“You don’t know Liyliy,” Menessos argued. “She won’t simply run, encumbered with the safekeeping of that necklace. She’ll want the thing destroyed, and she knows that Persephone—if caught—will be in a bind herself. She’ll use that leverage to make my witch destroy it.” Menessos shook his head. “You worry about rebinding the sisters. I want my people out searching.”
Mero saw the other vampire’s hands clench. He knew Menessos wanted to be out searching personally.
A commotion in the outer room had Mero heading for the door. Goliath and Mark blocked the doorway, then he heard Giovanni’s voice saying, “I am an Advisor to the Excelsior, and as such, I demand you let me pass!”
“What do you want, Giovanni?” Mero asked.
“I have news.”
Mero asked, “What news?”
“I’ve spoken with our Excelsior.” His grin was as malignant as his tone. “He’s named me the Interim Quarterlord.” Snickering, he added, “The documentation to prove it is on its way.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
I flew between the blades of the hundred-and-fifty-foot-tall turbine. Liyliy was so focused on me that she must have misgauged the rotation of the huge blade. I heard her cry out as it came down on her head.
Taking advantage of the opportunity, I sped around the south side of the Cleveland Browns Stadium.
Seconds later, Liyliy still wasn’t behind me.
Just as I released a sigh of relief she dived from the opening in the upper section of the southwest corner. Apparently being smacked by the giant metal blade of a wind turbine wasn’t enough to hurt her.
I intentioned for speed, and Liyliy’s talons raked through the broom’s straw. It caused the top of the broomstick to point up and I was carried once again into the sky. Below, Liyliy hit the ground but immediately flopped and flapped to gain altitude.
Though my heart was racing, the cold wind was becoming more than a mere annoyance. This gown had zero warmth, but I had to escape. With a thought, I hit the open air and asked the broom for sixty miles per hour. Seventy. Eighty.
The wind was such that I found myself again wishing for a pair of goggles like I’d seen other—albeit older—witches wear. My eyes were watering and forced shut. I managed a forward peek every few seconds to ensure that I wasn’t about to fly into a cell tower or something that might sneak up on me, though I was relatively certain that that wasn’t going to be a problem while skimming the shoreline of Lake Erie.
The harpy was far in the distance, but not giving up.
Ninety. A hundred.
The skirt of my dress was flapping so hard that I heard it begin to rip. The sheer outer layer couldn’t withstand this kind of abuse. Neither could my skin; I was so cold. My body ached with exhaustion again.
Cedar Point Amusement Park appeared when I was peeking. Behind me, I saw nothing of the owlish figure, so I dropped low and slowed, halting on the far side of the Sky Ride.
I was panting like I’d run a race, but I hadn’t. I was just so tired. Ready to blame it on an adrenaline rush bottoming out, I thought of something that I hadn’t considered before: How does a broom fly? It’s a magical item with the specific capability of flying, but what fuels it once it’s in the air?
There was only one answer that made any sense. Me.
I just fueled a broom for triple-digit speed. After being drained during the forced-change spell, I didn’t have much to spare.
Apparently, the intentions were only as good as the stamina the riding witch had to offer. I could refuel from the line, to a point anyway, but my pursuer would likely sense that and locate me, so for now, I resisted that urge. Finding cover was priority number one. The harpy might have been gone, but I needed a warm place to hide and recover. I surveyed the darkened park. There was no getting into the stairwell that led up to the ski-lift-like Sky Ride. The doors were of course locked.
Directly across from me was the Jack Aldrich Theatre. To the north, I saw Point Pavilion. That would provide overhead cover at least. I flew under the metal roof and put my feet down atop one of the picnic tables.
I’d just begun to feel a noticeable reduction in my pulse when a shrill screech echoed over the park. I flew to the end of the row, then crawled under the end of the farthest table and slid the broom with me. The scuffing sound of it made me grit my teeth and hope that Liyliy hadn’t heard.
Talons clacked on the metal roof as it creaked with the weight of something large.
Shit, shit, shit!
Stock still, I held my breath.
It seemed a long minute ticked away before I heard the scrape of talons leaving the roof.
Relief flooded over me—too soon.
Liyliy, in human form, dropped to the ground midway of the pavilion, clothed in a sheath of gray silk.
She’d be waiting for a shift of shadow to give me away. So I remained frozen in place and watched her from the space between the seat and the underside of the table.
Her silk fluttered into mist, stretching, searching.
She was going to find me no matter what.
I dropped to my stomach and rolled from under the table on the far side, dragging the broom with me and intending it up even as I rolled atop it.
Liyliy screeched, jerking her misty-parts back to her and shifting to owl smoothly. The broom carried me over the wall to back of the pavilion area and toward the roller coaster there. Liyliy was right behind me. I swerved into the coaster’s supports, darting through where she was too big to follow. There were larger spots that accommodated her easily, though. She angled up and shot through one, stretching down as soon as she passed through.
I zigzagged and zoomed underneath the coaster. She was above, and the track provided me cover. I followed the twists and spins, feeling the whoosh of air as talons reached for me if I drifted to one side. Again and again, she tried to find purchase in my skin. I slowed down for sharp curves. I sped up for the few straightaways. I was so tired, I tried to tap a ley line. Where is one?
The chase made it difficult to feel for a line, and when I did find one, I absorbed a sip here and there—more of the biting shock of initiating such a connection and not so much of the actual transfer. The swift curves of the coaster made it impossible to maintain the link to the ley line.
Defeating her would require more than speed and maneuverability. I was going to have to use magic, but this was happening too fast to think of a focusing rhyme.
Her talons touched my back.
I screamed.
The broom veered down and right, keeping the swipe of claws shallow, but I no longer had the coaster track giving me cover. I tried to swerve back under, but Liyliy anticipated the direction of my veering, and my rebound. She dived again, forcing me in the opposite direction.
A talon closed around my biceps and heaved upward.
My arm wrenched and I screamed again. Still holding the broom, I kicked and swung the bristly end at the harpy’s beak with all my might. As my efforts mad
e me twist in the harpy’s grip, I felt the bones of my shoulder grind out of the socket just as the stiff straw jabbed into Liyliy’s big, round, yellow eyes.
She screeched and released me. I fell past a sign for the Raptor and landed on a bed of mulch, twisting so I didn’t land on my arm. Still, it slammed against my side as I collided with the ground. The pain was a white-hot spotlight inside my head. The whine that emerged from my lips was the last thing I heard as that white light darkened.
Liyliy landed beside the unconscious figure and resumed her human form. She straddled the fugitive Erus Veneficus and grabbed her hands. As her clothes melted into a wispy tentacle she said, “Let’s see what’s in your mind.”
She chanted and the tentacle dipped toward Persephone’s neck.
When it touched her, a glow emerged around the E.V. For an instant, Liyliy saw silver-white armor. In an explosion of light, Liyliy was thrust backward.
She rolled end over end and came up panting and swearing.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
As Interim Quarterlord,” Giovanni said, “my first action is to declare Menessos unfit for leadership. I assume control of this haven—”
“That duty has already been assigned to Goliath,” Mero interjected. “I was sent here to conduct this investigation—”
“And as the Interim Quarterlord I am assuming control.”
The tension in the room ramped up. Goliath was shaking with fury. Mero knew that if the situation exploded, irreparable actions would commence. He also knew that his son was a master strategist. He’d given Mero an advantage, if he needed it, and the option to back down if that was what he needed.
Mero put a hand on Goliath’s shoulder and the lanky vampire withdrew to one side. Mero entered the outer chamber. “Since you have declared yourself the Interim Quarterlord, Giovanni, you will of course understand that my rank as Advisor trumps yours. If you cared to be a part of the investigation instead of running off to beg leverage of the Excelsior, you would have already known that I relieved Menessos of his position and bequeathed this haven to Goliath, dubbing it the Cleveland haven. It is no longer a Quarterlord’s haven, so you have no one to command here. However,” he gestured ceremoniously to Goliath, “I trust you will be compliant with the Interim Quarterlord’s requests. Should you have any concerns, I will be available to hear them and mediate without hesitation.”
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