“Moaning a little,” Celia said. “Morphine may be wearing off a little early.”
“Did you ever get through to the doc?” I asked him.
“Still no answer. But Feral called.” His expression was grim.
“Feral” Jones, the bassist in Johnny’s band, had once been Theo’s boyfriend and had initially brought her here to kennel. They’d separated as friends, but they still shared a cage in the storm cellar on full moons. I’d have thought that the arrangement made him still her boyfriend, but they didn’t act as if it did. “What’d he say?”
“Someone sacked both Theo’s condo and Revelations.”
“When?” Celia asked.
“This morning for the condo. Neighbors heard things falling and breaking and called 911. They trashed everything and left before police could arrive. It seems that they got to Revelations right after she left yesterday and broke in there. A lawyer from the office across the hall came back to catch up on some work. Saw the door standing open and the mess when she arrived. Called it in.”
We were speechless.
Hands fisted at his sides, Johnny said, “That’s why the cops were at the hospital. They knew. They’d already connected the break-in and the accident.”
“It was her phone that rang,” Celia said. “I heard a phone ring when they were prepping her for surgery. I was in the hall…thought it was a nurse taking her own call, but what they said…I thought it was weird at the time, but I bet the police were trying to locate her about the break-in. Her cell phone must have been in her purse, and I know they kept those things with her in the room…”
Johnny’s right fist smacked into his left palm. “Someone did this to her purposely. The cops were digging for who and why, but when they found out she was a wære, they split. Crimes don’t matter if the victim is infected.”
My insides sank. I had done this to her. My questions. If they had sacked Revelations, did they know about me? Had Theo left a note on her bill for me: Background on Goliath Kline?
“Is that true?” Beverley asked softly. “About wæres?”
We adults threw glances at one another like hot potatoes.
“Yeah,” Johnny said, then added, “I’m sorry.”
Beverley shot out of her chair. As she passed me, her brimming tears fell.
Johnny looked at me, face pained. “Aw, shit. I didn’t mean to…” Johnny said.
“I know.” I went after her. “Beverley.”
She darted up the steps and nearly ran into Nana coming from the bathroom. “Sorry,” she cried as she ran into the room she’d be sharing with me.
Nana asked, startled, “What’s going on now?”
“Don’t worry, I’ve got it.” I slipped past Nana and entered the bedroom, shutting the door behind me. “Beverley.”
She stood facing the corner with her arms wrapped tightly around herself, shoulders jumping as she cried. “Whoever killed my mom will get away with it, won’t they? The police won’t do anything because she was…was infected.”
“Beverley.” I realized I didn’t have a clue what to say. Of all the people in the house, she was the last one I would tell what I’d agreed to do in order to try to right this wrong.
Beverley turned and threw herself against me, hugging me and crying. “It’s not fair! It’s not fair! My mom was a good person and I loved her and I want her back!”
Holding her tight was all I could do. I said, “I know you do. I know.”
* * *
After dinner, I tucked Beverly in.
“How is she?” Johnny asked when I came back to the kitchen. He’d been cleaning up, and he flipped the dish towel over his shoulder.
“Sleeping.”
“I wasn’t thinking. I feel like an ass.”
Sliding onto the bench at the table, I said, “It’s a harsh truth, but one she’d have to learn about sooner or later anyway. Dancing around it won’t help her.” I paused. “Celia with Theo? I’m shirking my shift.”
“No. I gave her a glass of wine and sent her out on the front porch.”
“Wine?”
“Can’t cook Italian without wine.”
There wasn’t anything drinkable here. “You gave her cooking sherry?”
“No. I got some good stuff.” He shifted the dish towel over his forearm and took a bottle from the cabinet. Holding it over his arm like a waiter, he asked in a French accent, “Would Mademoiselle care for a drink?”
I couldn’t help smiling. “Sure.” He poured from the fancily labeled bottle and brought it to me. It was rich and smooth. “Mmmm. Why didn’t you serve us this with dinner?”
“Aw, with the kid present, I wasn’t sure it would be right.”
Some guys make references to children in derogatory terms, but Johnny’s tone made his words affectionate. He was so sensitive to Beverley’s situation that it made me soften a little more toward him. I could almost feel it physically. Warmth spread over me, and I quickly said, “I’m going to take this glass up to Theo’s room, where I should be anyway, and relax in my window seat with a book. Thanks.”
I turned to leave. After a few steps I glanced back and, sure enough, he was staring at my behind. His eyebrows jerked, and he flopped the dish towel over his shoulder and went back to cleaning up the kitchen.
I climbed the stairs slowly, not because I was tired, but because I was thinking about what Nana seemed to be telling me about him, and then her complaining about the noise Celia and Erik had made. She didn’t like wæres, didn’t like my wolf friends, but she was pushing me to screw around with one. I wasn’t the Queen of Paradoxes—she was. Maybe I was in line for the throne, but at least I came by it honestly.
* * *
In the window seat, I sipped the wine. The night was full, and the stars were out. I glanced up through the skylights, then returned to studying the glistening dots through the west-facing window beside me. This dark was the only world the vampires knew—shit!
I had to get some extra protection into my wards, and pronto. Grabbing my Book of Shadows from the bottom dresser drawer, I returned to the window seat and flipped to the section about wards.
I heard footsteps on the stairs, and Celia came in. “I brought in your mail. Been out in the box all day.”
“Thanks.”
“This came,” she said gravely, holding up a stuffed manila envelope. “It’s from Theo. Mailed yesterday.”
She’d checked the postmark. “Okay….” I drew it out as if I didn’t understand the significance of that. Theo had said she’d dropped the material about Kline in the mail when she had called the night before last. It would have gone out after midnight.
“Were you expecting this? I mean, do you think she might have known she was in danger and sent something pertinent to you?”
“Oh! No. I’d asked her to do some research about a guy for me.”
“A guy? Anyone I know?” She grinned and slapped the envelope against her thigh; then her smile faded as another thought occurred to her. She lifted it back up. “This is a lot of info. Theo usually gets rap sheets, Seph.”
I had to be careful, but I felt certain I knew what Celia was thinking. “It’s for an article I’m writing. Not a candidate for boyfriend.”
“Oh.” She sounded disappointed. She handed over the envelope.
Erik came down the attic steps. At five foot eleven, he had to duck his head to traverse the attic stairs. His lean, muscular body, befitting a drummer and a wære, sauntered into my room as he moved to accept a hug from his wife. He never dressed as stylishly as Celia, but it wasn’t from a lack of trying on her part. At least he accepted her advice on his hairstyle. His layered brown hair suited his face, though the thin beard made him look stern.
They went downstairs to get Erik some leftovers. I sat there with the envelope across my Book of Shadows. Did I open it now or later? Later, I decided, after I’d boosted the wards as best I could. Priorities.
Tucking the envelope under the Book of Shadows, I reviewed my
options. I found notes on a technique a friend had shared with me not long after I moved in. I hadn’t used this amplifier technique yet. It had never been necessary. The fact that I felt I had cause to now made me sad.
I was unable to resist opening Theo’s envelope any longer.
Photocopies of newspaper and Internet articles slid into my hand. The first was the initial abduction article; whoever had written it had little info and just played up the tug-on-the-heartstrings angle. The article reproduced a school photo of a young boy with bright eyes and pale hair, nice-looking but awkward the way kids can be when they’re growing fast. There were also numerous printed-out Web pages from an online e-zine, Out of the Dark. I’d heard of it, knew it to be full of conspiracy theories like the ones surrounding the wæres as well as articles on UFOs and vampires.
The printout pages were all about known and suspected vampire activity, including official-looking minutes from Vampire Parliament meetings with lists of who attended and who had been absent. Theo had highlighted some names on the “absent” roster. The next page showed more absentees, also highlighted. This time there was a note on the side that Theo had written: Goliath suspected of assassinating these parliament members; they’ve not been seen since.
I scanned the article. The author had a smug sense of self-importance and a good head for word usage. Most Out of the Dark articles were written in succinct Web style or on a tenth-grade reading level like newspapers, but this one had polysyllabic words and deep metaphors. I’d have bet a vampire had written it. Who else would have access to such data and the ego to bother with the highbrow language? Why tell on one’s own, though? Maybe the author copied the style to avoid suspicion.
When I got over critiquing the article, I reread it to evaluate what it meant in relation to my situation. Goliath was clearly a highly trained and experienced assassin.
This Goliath guy—thank the Goddess—had, so far, left Beverley untouched and alive. If he found out I was the one who had asked Theo to check into his background, if he came here, would he leave anyone in my house alive?
My stomach knotted. I had endangered not just Theo, but everyone I cared about. I had to amplify my house wards now.
* * *
“Celia,” I said, entering the kitchen, “I need to—” I almost said “boost my house wards,” but thought she might wonder why I thought it necessary. Wait, that was okay. “I need to boost my house wards. If someone is after Theo and didn’t finish, I don’t want them getting in here. Would you cover for me for about fifteen minutes?” I hated having to think and rethink before I spoke. Goddess help me, I preferred honesty. How do habitual liars deal with all this?
She agreed, and I gathered the necessary items and hurried into the backyard with my Book of Shadows under my arm and a broom in hand. A set of old skeleton keys dangled from a big ring around my wrist like an awkward bracelet. In seconds, Johnny, who had been taking out the trash, was at my heels, following.
“Whatcha doing?” The childlike inquisitiveness in his voice made me smile.
“I’m going to increase the power on my home security system.”
“Wouldn’t a screwdriver work better than old keys and a broom?” The last word was dragged out, surely because he realized the nature of what was transpiring.
I stopped and turned. He saw the book in my arms and pulled up short.
“Oh. You’re doing witchy stuff.”
“Yeah.”
In an instant, I understood how I had shown my fear to him for months. His expression turned fearful and he retreated a hasty step. “Home security system. Is that like, all around?” He gestured sweepingly with his arm.
“Yeah.”
“Whoa—is that safe? For me and the other wæres, I mean?”
“I think so.”
“Think?” His tone was just a bit higher.
“Yes, Johnny. It’s safe for you. In the house, anyway. I stir up the energy and task it. After it is set, then it is like the latent energy in any rock or tree. It will alarm like any security system if someone crosses the threshold. It does not affect you or anyone else—it affects me, so the alarm stirs an energy reaction within me. It’s perfectly safe inside the house. But not out here while I work.”
“Right. I’ll just be in the house, then.” He smiled and left.
Johnny wasn’t afraid of me; he was afraid of what I could do—raise energies—and how that could affect him. Rightly so.
When I reached the center of the back of the house, I put the book and keys on the ground at my feet. Facing north, I took three deep breaths to ground and center my being. I began, in a state between full consciousness and alpha—I call it “sub-alpha,” and yeah, professional brain researchers probably use that same term for something else, so it’s not a technical term coming from me, just personal slang.
Sweeping the broom in a complete clockwise circle all the way around my house, I repeatedly chanted:
“By sun and moon, intentions pure,
Isis make my home secure.”
When I returned to the book and keys, I leaned my broom against the house and said, “As above, so below, my circle is sealed, so mote it be.”
On my knees, with my hands on the ground, fingers curled in the grass, I called to the ley line. The nearby power thrummed softly in my fingertips—something like being near a stream you can hear, but not see. With the energy line, though, I “heard” it with all my being. Imagining my spirit self stretching across the distance, I held my hand near the flow. Strong, as usual. Vibrant. I cupped my hand and stuck it into the flow. My arm went numb up to the elbow. My every nerve sizzled as before, but the sensation quickly shifted from heated almost-pain to dull warmth, like being on the edge of drunk.
Yes, this could be very dangerous.
I pulled some of that power into me, feeling the thrumming grow strong, roiling and stretching through me as if trying me on for size. Quickly, I dumped it into my clockwise path around the house.
“Walls and windows, beams and boards,
Let no one unwanted through my doors.
Alarms resound and protect me
Should anyone try forced entry.”
After I’d repeated it three times, I could feel the energy approaching from the other side of the circle. I pulled my cupped spirit-hand from the ley line and continued pouring the power out until the pathway was full. “So mote it be.” With my spirit-hand empty, gooseflesh rose over my skin. I shivered.
Taking up the keys, I removed four from the ring. Making another clockwise circuit, I shoved one down into the ground, pushing it deep below the grass on the east side of the house.
“This energy now is keyed to this house, keyed to me.
My wærewolf friends remain untouched and move freely.”
I repeated the process, placing keys at the south side under the porch, at the west side by the garage, and, back at the beginning, on the north side. With each key I placed, each repeat of the phrase, the flow of the energy increased. By the time I was done, it was swirling fast and powerful.
* * *
When my shift ended and Erik relieved me, my tired body had just enough energy to make it to my new room, where I changed into my pajamas and melted into a human puddle on the air mattress as quietly as I could so as not to disturb Beverley.
I awoke at two A.M., feeling uneasy, and it had nothing to do with the air mattress under me or the lasagna or the wine. The waning moon was a gibbous beacon outside, offering a night-light–level glow to this room. Lying still, ears perked, I listened. All I could hear was Johnny and Erik in the next room. Erik was on call with Theo, but he and Johnny were talking about the songs for the CD they were about to go into the studio to cut. I heard the words “Deep Lycanthropia” several times, as well as things like “got the lyrics, but not a chorus or title” and “maybe a bridge here.”
Suddenly an alarm went off in my head like a slow police siren.
The unease was my new perimeter wards signaling—damn!
I hadn’t used this kind of spell before, so I hadn’t realized the unease was the alarm. Now I knew. The siren in my head was definitely a break-in, but the sluggishness of its whine told me the culprit was aware of the wards, had tried to counter them, and probably thought he or she had been successful at it.
It couldn’t be Goliath. As a vampire, he’d have to be invited in, but he could have witch friends who would try to counter a ward spell.
I threw back the covers and slipped from the bed, silently opened the door, and tiptoed across the hall, stepping on the sides where the boards didn’t squeak. I couldn’t just release the alarm throbbing in my head; if I did, whoever was breaking in would sense it and know I had been alerted and had shut it down. If I let the alarm continue, they would think that their counterspell had reduced it so much I wouldn’t notice it as anything more than a ringing in the ears.
Pushing open the door to Theo’s dimly lit room, I stepped in, and the men turned to me with wide eyes. Only then did it hit me that I was wearing only red panties and a red tank top with a stylized lion rampant.
“Red,” Johnny said, his voice tellingly breathless.
“Damn it! Look at my face,” I whispered harshly. “The perimeter wards I placed earlier woke me up, and now my house wards are alarming. Someone’s breaking in. And they’re doing it in such a way that they think they’re countering my wards.” Both men stood immediately. “Wait! You have to step quietly and not let them know you’re on to them.”
“Them? How many?”
I made a face. “I can’t tell. Might be just one, might be several.”
“Do you have a gun?” Erik asked.
A strangled laugh tried to escape my mouth. “No.” My baseball bat was still behind the door in the kitchen.
They shared a look, and Johnny whispered, “Follow me.”
I grabbed his arm. “The boards squeak more in the middles. Try to stay to one side or the other.”
Vicious Circle Page 12