Shattered Circle c-6

by Linda Robertson

  With that solid wood table leg—thicker than a baseball bat and having a square block at the top—Mero had delivered a blow that would have killed a normal man, a blow that should have critically injured any wærewolf.

  He could not believe what he was seeing. Before him, the creature gathered itself to stand. Its body re-shifted as it rose, growing broader and taller, exceeding the mass of any wærewolf Mero had ever seen. Only in the woodcut illustrations of ancient texts had he ever seen a creature so menacingly blended. This was part man with every sinew thickened, and part beast, black furred and feral. It stood on two legs, on enormous paws, and the arms ended in hands with thick claws. The head was wider than that of a natural wolf, and dark as pitch except for the pale yellow eyes glowing like coals in a hearth. The long ears were twisted angrily back. Slavering jaws opened. Saliva dripped from black lips that curled to reveal fangs longer and sharper than any vampire’s. A guttural snarl filled the room.

  Domn Lup.

  He had read the legends that said the King of Wolves could take this form. He had never thought to see it with his own eyes.

  He held his ground.

  She must be taken to the Excelsior. She must become Wolfsbane.

  Mero hefted the table leg in his right hand, and readied a white-hot orb in his left.

  The wære lunged. Mero swung the wood for another upper-cut impact. The Domn Lup veered left to avoid the strike, then swiped a large paw, hitting the leg hard and giving it more follow-through than Mero was prepared for.

  Persephone was not far behind him and he worried that the clublike weapon might strike her. He fought the momentum and held the searing orb out in front, letting arcs of heat whip out to keep the wolf back. He had to get this fight away from her before either of them accidentally broke her circle, or worse, hurt her.

  He regained control of the heavy table leg, and, grip firmer, swung it in a downward angle. The beast had to hop back, but leapt forward immediately after. Mero loosed an orb. It hit the wære in the shoulder. As the beast cried out, Mero fled into the hall; the narrow space would be a disadvantage to the big creature.

  When he neared the front door and the space widened at the bottom of the staircase, Mero spun around and raised his weapon.

  But the creature had not followed behind him.

  The attack came from the side, out of the darkened living room.

  • • •

  Johnny barely had to think. The beast’s instincts worked faster than his brain could process words, let alone dictate commands preemptively. He avoided the overhead swing of the club and attacked. A ball of lightning heat crashed into his shoulder and he roared in pain.

  The prey ran.

  Impulsively, the beast moved to follow.

  No. Johnny willed the beast to see the other route through the house. It complied.

  Leaping from the doorway, he pounced. The vampire faced him at the last second and he knocked him down before the staircase. The beast drew back, teeth bared, ready to kill. He brought his toothy maw down . . . on a scalding orb.

  Howling, he jerked back.

  The vampire sat up and slammed the club against Johnny’s head. Wrapping his claws around the offending object, he tried to wrench it from Mero’s grasp. They struggled for several seconds, but as Johnny was atop the vamp, leverage won out. He jerked the table leg free, raised it high, and brought it down toward his prey’s head.

  A bolt of light slammed into the weapon, knocking it aside at the last moment and jerking it down to embed it into the floor.

  Mero hit him with another bolt of energy.

  Johnny pulled on the club. He yanked on it—but it was stuck fast.

  Mero wriggled in an effort to get away. Johnny stomped a huge paw onto his chest. His prey could not escape, but he pummeled Johnny with blast after blast. He held fiery orbs against his legs. Johnny tore the club free and readied it again.

  Another blast diverted it a second time—this time hitting his arms with enough force that he ripped through the oak handrail and spindles of the staircase.

  Seeing the destruction he was wreaking on Red’s house, Johnny felt remorse, but the beast saw more weapons. Sharp, wooden weapons. He dropped the club and snapped a broken spindle off at the base. His claws turned the pointy end down.

  A stake.

  He dropped to his knees, aiming the point at Mero’s heart.

  The vamp clasped Johnny’s forearms, holding him back, but Johnny could feel the trembling in his prey’s limbs. He was stronger, heavier, more physically powerful than the vamp. He had only to keep the pressure on. He growled and watched thick saliva drip on his prey’s face.

  Arcs of energy crawled along his skin, hotter and hotter until the reek of burning hair and skin filled his nostrils. Still, he would not be deterred. This vamp was in Red’s house, trying to take her, and she was unresponsive and defenseless. Johnny would not fail her again.

  He shoved on the stake and felt the tip rip fabric, felt it pierce skin. Mero gave a desperate scream. The burning redoubled on Johnny’s furred arms and then, from behind, someone shouted, “Sire! No!”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Ailo took a step and nearly fell. Talto rushed toward her. With her sister’s arm supporting her, Ailo found walking much easier. They made it to the door. Talto looked back. “You come with us, Sil.”

  “Why?” Ailo asked. “She needs to—”

  “We need time,” Talto explained. “Get back to kissing the guard,” she added over her shoulder to Silhouette.

  The sisters were down the stairs and stumbling toward the entry when they heard the clacking sound of Risqué’s heels. Talto spun around, pulling Ailo with her as if to watch the striptease Silhouette had started for the guard.

  Risqué traipsed into the room and stopped dead.

  “What gives, Sil?”

  Both the Offerling and the guard jerked at the sound of her voice. “Why aren’t you with the kid?”

  Silhouette didn’t answer, but she did move away from the guard.

  Risqué stomped forward and grabbed the discarded shirt from the floor. “I’ll be damned if I’m gonna wear a shirt and let you streak around here. What if Goliath saw you?”

  Risqué turned back toward the doorway. Seeing Ailo and Talto loitering a few feet within the room, she scowled. “You two can go do your voyeuristic skulking somewhere else.” She pointed at the doorway.

  Ailo pulled Talto with her and moved for the door. She felt her sister’s thoughts via her grip on Talto’s arm and knew the youngest had stuck her tongue out at Risqué. Ailo stopped short of passing through the doorway and watched what happened.

  “Seriously, Vinny. Don’t let them loiter like that,” Risqué said.

  He glanced at his phone. “Don’t let who loiter?”

  Risqué rolled her eyes. To Sil, she said, “Next time an Offerling wants to waste my time, you tell them to kiss off.”

  Sil’s expression dropped into confusion. “She said it was important.”

  “She was wrong. I assume the kid is still out?”

  “She didn’t make a sound.”

  “Like you’d know from down here.” Muttering not quite under her breath, Risqué stomped up the steps to the court witches’ suite and punched in the code.

  Ailo put to memory the pattern that unlocked the door. Only then did she follow Talto across the stage.

  “Did you find out what gift the girl received?” Talto asked.

  Ailo nodded gravely. “The girl is a ward-breaker.”

  “Ward-breaker,” Talto repeated in a whisper. “Amazing. She’s . . . she’s . . . invaluable.”

  “She’s a tool,” Ailo said sharply. “Nothing more. Menessos did this for a reason.”

  “We have to call Liyliy,” Talto said.

  “I’ll do that,” Ailo said, taking out her phone. “You get to work on the computer aspect of our plan. Find out who runs the funds of this place. Read them. Open a new account. Learn how to make transfers.�
�

  Talto nodded and hurried away.

  Ailo stepped into the shadows and opened the phone. She did not call Liyliy, however. Instead, she called Persephone Alcmedi and, knowing no one would answer, waited for the voicemail.

  “Hello, witch. I know you’ll wonder why I’m calling. I just want you to know that your pet vampire is quite busy. You see . . . he placed a spell upon someone, an in signum amoris spell. It gave him a measure of control and could possibly have been used to salvage his position as Haven Master, but that someone reversed the spell to be rid of it.” She giggled frighteningly. “He had to find another way to exert leverage over this someone. Don’t get me wrong—his intentions were pure when he rescued the child. But he’s not one to overlook an opportunity when it presents itself.” She paused. “Now the child is his guarantee. Should he ever need to exert some control over this someone—and you have to admit, bad eventualities do follow her around—he’ll be able to play this someone like a harp, plucking at her here and there until she’s doing exactly as he wishes.” Mirthful laughter taunted into the phone. “How does it make you feel, witch, knowing that she belongs to him now? Knowing that because of you she will live among the undead forever?”

  Ailo hung up.

  • • •

  Talto walked up the stairs and made her unhurried way to the media room she and Ailo had been sitting in earlier. The Beholders were still there playing cards, so she slinked down the hall to a dark, private corner and took out her phone. Many minutes had passed; enough for Ailo to have called Liyliy. But something felt off to her. She dialed Liyliy.

  “Did Ailo just call you?”

  “No. Is she not with you?”

  Talto’s expression darkened. “We are separated at the moment.” If Ailo did not do as she said she would now, how could she trust Ailo with the plan they were about to put into action? Worrying over this, Talto realized that Liyliy was panting. “Are you all right? Why are you out of breath?”

  “I am hurrying to the place where I am to meet someone.”

  “You are walking?” Talto remembered how her sister had been limping when she entered. They had healed Liyliy’s leg, but still, she had been through much tonight. Talto wished she was there to help Liyliy. She wished she was anywhere but here in this dreadful haven under the control of the one who put them into the stones. Her hand strayed to the chain about her neck. “Why did you not transform and fly?”

  “I have tasted blood this night, but a sip only. I struggled with Mero to gain my exit, and now I do not have the means.”

  Talto sniffled. “I’m sorry we couldn’t do more.”

  “Do not cry, Talto. You did all you could. I’m nearly there. Go on. Tell me what has happened.”

  “Ailo evaluated the girl.”

  “And?”

  “She’s . . . ” Talto wondered if there was any reason that Ailo would keep this news from Liyliy. It was good news, valuable news. It’s worth making this a secret only if she is planning on being devious to Liyliy . . . If her loyalty to Liyliy is fading, I’ve no hope.

  “Talto?”

  “The girl is a ward-breaker.”

  Silence.

  “Liyliy?”

  “Praise all that is darkly glorious, Talto! This is beyond fortuitous. Truly.”

  Talto grinned. “And we have a plan for Menessos.” She shared the details. “Should we progress with that or do you think we need to change things considering what we know about the child?” She hoped Liyliy would want them to abandon their other plan. Talto was not fond of any plan with the possibility of being tortured by Menessos or abandoned by Ailo.

  “You are so brave, little one. You don’t know how proud I am of you right now.”

  “But the plan?”

  “Go ahead with it. You will likely create the distraction that allows us to abduct the girl. But do not worry, we will not forsake you, little sister. With her in our possession, they cannot keep us from saving you.”

  • • •

  Liyliy heard the fear in Talto’s voice. She knew the youngest of them would not have come up with such a plan, and she knew Talto was scared, but Liyliy could hardly contain her excitement long enough to reassure her sister.

  At the word “ward-breaker” Liyliy’s heart leapt. The child could be used to free her sisters from their bondage. And what was more, this little girl could free them all from the influence of the necklace Mero had created to bind them with originally. If her sisters were successful in transferring the cash, and they were able to keep these funds from the authorities, they would have the means to build an army against their enemy. If that was unsuccessful, the girl could be used to get them into bank vaults.

  Either way, they would have money, and money would do much to buy the aid of those who also hated Menessos.

  I might not need Giovanni much longer.

  She saw the van ahead, parked right where they had agreed. She was eager to sit and rest. “I must go now, Talto. We will talk again soon.”

  • • •

  Giovanni sat impatiently in the back of the van. The small amount of blood he had sipped from Adam, the driver, had bought time, but it was not enough to sate him.

  Liyliy was late and he was hungry.

  Then his phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it free and connected to the wiretap device on Ailo’s phone. He listened as she left a taunting message for the witch and realized it was Persephone Alcmedi that Ailo had called earlier about the park. But he did not understand what she meant about the child living among the undead forever.

  Had Menessos Made a child?

  The pieces only started falling into place for him when, moment’s later, Talto made a call to Liyliy.

  The news fascinated him. It stirred a desire for control so deep it swept him back in time for a moment, to the days of his true life, when he’d commanded an army. In his mortal days, when men lived and died at his command, he had known great power. Wielding magic, he imagined, must feel like having that supremacy had felt.

  He had no magical ability of his own, but he could make grand use of a ward-breaker.

  He’d be unstoppable with her in his control.

  He wasn’t about to let his enemy possess and direct that kind of limitless resource—but he’d have to strike fast, while Menessos still thought no one knew about the girl’s power.

  Adam turned in his seat and tapped on the glass that separated them. “Liyliy is coming, sir.”

  “Start the engine. We must return downtown. To the Blood Culture.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  I stood on the lakeshore alone.

  Amenemhab had trotted away after I stroked his back for a while. The previous time we talked he’d said that I’d likely have a new totem soon. I didn’t want him to go; I liked him. So, in case this was our last visit, I’d petted him. He was softer than he looked and stroking him was comforting to me. He surely knew I was only delaying what I had to do next, but he let me anyway. He even licked my cheek before he left.

  Now, the night sky was star-filled above me. The water remained dark before me. The willow at my back rustled in the breeze.

  Inhaling a cleansing breath, I shut my eyes as I grounded and centered myself. Shoulders squared, I visualized Creepy’s face in my mind and said, “I’m ready.”

  The wind picked up and the temperature dropped. The lake began to give off an ever-thickening haze that the air moved around in dancing swirls. In a matter of moments, the world grew shrouded in a gray veil of mist.

  He’s coming.

  The fog shifted and I stared at the lake, trying to make out a shape in it. The moisture in the air seemed to hold all sounds close, amplifying my breathing in my own ears. I could hear the lapping of the waves much louder than before, and a soft splashing as if there were a boat on the water. Behind those sounds, a distant thunder was rumbling closer.

  Fearing it might rain here and drench me, I stepped forward, waving my arms as if that would part the gray air. Pe
rhaps if I saw a boat I could get on it and get going before I was soaked. However, my efforts revealed nothing. All I managed to accomplish was to get my socks wetter and muddier and sandier.

  I stared at my feet and again wished for my shoes. The thunder was getting louder.

  When I looked up I caught a momentary glimpse of a black dragon’s head in the mist.

  It was gone as quickly as it appeared, but I stepped forward, ankle deep in the lake. “Wait!”

  I’d seen dragons here before. They pulled a boat that carried Hecate. She could help me. She was a goddess. She could get me the hell out of here.

  I took another step into the water. “Wait!” I called twice more, in case I’d been drowned out by the roaring rumble.

  And then it hit me: That rumble was more distinct now . . . like many hooves.

  As soon as I thought it, four black steeds thundered out of the mist side by side. Skidding to a stop at the edge of the embankment, they tossed their thick manes and nickered protests. The chariot they pulled was shiny black with a huge screaming skull of silver on the front center.

  Creepy stood in the chariot holding the reins with clenched fists. He wore armor that matched the chariot; a crested helmet, bracers, greaves, and a cuirass over his black tunic. Pteruges, feather-like leather strips, hung from the cuirass in black layers, each adorned at the bottom with a silver skull. He raised one finger and gestured. “Come.”

  I walked to the back of the chariot and, before stepping up onto it, got an eyeful of the backs of his muscular legs. He indicated I should stand beside him at the front. I obeyed, very aware that my muddy socks left tracks on the chariot floor.

  “Hold on.” He tapped the chariot’s upper edge.

  I gripped it tight. Good thing; he cracked the reins and the horses leapt into a gallop with enough force they nearly set me on my ass even though I was holding on.

  We raced across the field, climbed rolling hills, and delved into shallow valleys. The horses’ hooves kept rhythm while small metal decorations on the harnesses—skulls again—tinkled an accenting sound. Add that to the bumpy nighttime ride and somehow, as the minutes wore on and on, I grew so tired that I curled up at Creepy’s feet and slept.