Fatal Circle c-3

by Linda Robertson

  Tapping the ley in normal usage was dangerous and potentially addictive, but she was taking in more power than I could even imagine. That she could hold that much power and not explode was amazing.

  Fax Torris angled her wrists, moving the beam toward the shore, filling the air with steam. Her fingers splayed wide, broadening the beam. It seemed a heavy burden, difficult to move. Hard to control. She guided it in the direction of the fighting dragons and Beholders. None of them were aware of what was coming at them.

  “Get out of there!” I screamed. My voice was lost to the lashing wind. “All of you run away. Run now!”

  The beam came ashore. Where the beam touched sand its progress was slowed, and a dark strip of something glossy was left in its wake.

  Glass. The temperature required for that—

  The beam ran across the middle of the dragon coughing up blood—it was cut in half and left nothing in its wake! The superheated light was incinerating nearly everything it encountered.

  The Beholders ran—the young painter with the broken demeanor of a pit-fighting dog was among them. He stumbled. Clawing at the sand, desperate to get up, he managed to rise to one knee just as the beam struck his still-extended foot. He lurched forward and sideways. Relentless, the beam passed over his legs. His scream was unlike anything I’d ever heard: pure agony enunciated. When the beam moved on, his legs were just . . . gone. His clothes were consumed in flames.

  Fax Torris guided the beam, keeping it trained on those fleeing. The molten light destroyed two more. Then the fire fairy seemed to notice Mountain. And Johnny.

  She shifted the death-bringing radiance toward them.

  Menessos, taking my dagger from me and casting it to the sand, put the willow wand into my hands. “The sacrifices you have made, you made only to see that things are done right,” he said.

  He aimed the tip of the wand at his chest. “Do this,” he said. “It is the right thing, for the right reason.”

  “No.” Horrified, I backpedaled. Limp fingers let the wand fall to the sand.

  “There isn’t time to debate, Persephone! I cannot call her. This is the only way to sever the bonds so you can seal the gateway.”

  “No,” I whispered.

  Menessos took up the wand and staggered to his feet. My legs were jelly. He placed the wand—a stake!—into my limp hands, curled my fingers around it. “Let’s give her what she wants. Free her. Let her go home and take her madness with her.”

  “Menessos.” I drew a breath. My words came back to haunt me. When have I not accepted the responsibility thrust upon me? When have I drawn the line and said “No, this is too much”? “No. No. Here, at this, I’m drawing the line,” I said. “This is too much.”

  “You are my master, Persephone. I accept what that means. The good and the bad.” He stood straighter. “For you, I will experience death.” He opened his shirt and bared his chest.

  I beheld Arthur. My hero and king.

  I thought of Seven. She’d chosen love over destiny. Seven believed herself a failure for her choice. Johnny might be dead already. And Menessos was telling me to kill him, as well. Destiny sucked.

  “Take pity, Persephone, do not draw this out.”

  I nodded, once.

  But I couldn’t do it.

  I grabbed him into my arms and I pressed my lips to his.

  A rush of heat blossomed around me. Was it Menessos’s heat or the charm redirecting something dangerous?

  The charm.

  Screams erupted to my right. I broke the kiss to see two witches taken by the beam, reduced to nothing in an instant. They were trying to stop Fax Torris, drawing the beam away. But she was back on target.

  Menessos whispered, “In signum amoris.”

  Staring into his eyes, I drew on our bond, just enough. I held him in my mind because I could not hold him in my arms.

  “By your hand, let it be done.”

  My heart thudded once and my world slowed as battle-heightened senses went dull. I heard only my own tardy heartbeat in my ears, the shift of fabric as I drew back my arm.

  Johnny. And now Menessos.

  Seven was right. There was no romance in war.

  I accept the good and the bad.

  I staked Menessos.

  I didn’t look away from his eyes, even to see his crimson life leaking away. The drops splattered warm across my hand, and spilled down his chest in a gush that should not have been possible. I felt the life leaving him, fleeing him almost as if his heart had seized up, forcing all his blood out at once to make a quick end. He made no sound. He drew no breath, let none escape. But his set jaw slackened.

  I knew a choking thick darkness was swallowing him.

  His knees gave. But his gray eyes never left mine.

  All the threads that held us were taut; stretching, threatening to snap. I felt the cords grow thin, frayed with his dying. The friction of my will against this inevitable death grew white hot. All at once it snapped.

  My hands shot out, fisting in his shirt, clutching his body. I went down on my knees, too . . . and still he was slowly slumping away from me. I pulled him back into my arms. I will not let go. His head fell forward to rest on my shoulder. Clinging to him, I wept.

  I will not let go.

  Wiping my hand across my face, my tears mixed with the blood on my fingertips. I drew the five-pointed star on his forehead. A witch’s symbol. “You are mine.”

  Even with my lids shut tight, I could not dam the flow of more tears.

  “Element of Earth! I call you to my circle.” My voice cracked and I choked. “Element of Air! I call you to my circle. Element of Fire! I call you to my circle. Element of Water! I call you to my circle.” My words were bitter, mumbled sobs, as I gave in to the grief and cradled Menessos to me.

  Such a long, long life, and so devastating that it should end this way, over fairies he had only sought in desperation to find the end of his curse. A curse that made him all he now was. I was bringing to fruition the ending Ezreniel intended from the start.

  Eyes still shut—I could not look at him—I raised my head high and cried out, “Goddess! Hear me!” My voice was clear and defiant.

  This guarantee, sealed by me,

  by your blood and by my tears.

  This guarantee, sealed by me,

  the promise of many more years!

  I yanked the wand from his chest. On my end of our severed bond, frayed edges became taloned claws. Mine. The claws surged into the receding dark, grasping for the threads. Mine. I willed more strength down the line, to coil about the cords and refasten them, stronger than before. Mine!

  And my second hex filled Menessos.

  “As I will, so mote it be!” I whispered.

  A quartet of odd sounds answered. My eyelids parted a crack. Blinking away tears, I peered around me. A tremulous sigh escaped as I assured myself what I was seeing was real.

  Around my circle, what remained of the elementals stood poised and regal, watching me. They had come at my call, stood at my circle.

  The unicorn nickered, bowed, then craned his graceful neck toward the shore as if to say, Can we finish this now?

  The gateway!

  Slipping from under Menessos’s body, I assured myself that Mountain had Johnny. The big man was on his knees still, dragging the inert body of the Domn Lup farther onshore. He gave no indication that Johnny was alive. With all that was going on, all I’d just done, my senses and emotions were overloaded. I did not dare try using our bond to confirm my fears. I had to finish this.Someone was running down the shoreline from the lighthouse. Kirk.

  I tore off my blazer and hoodie, covering Menessos against the rising sun.

  Vilna-Daluca and a handful of other witches continued to battle Fax Torris.

  The bonds were broken. The fairy was free and she had to know it. Still, she made no effort to fly away, no attempt to flee. She wanted to fight.

  Vilna-Daluca had said they could handle this, but at what cost? Even as I
watched, that beam claimed another witch’s life.

  Let her take her madness home with her.

  No. She wasn’t going to get away. This was one fairy who wasn’t going to go home and live happily ever after.

  I took up the bloody wand in my hand again. Grounding and centering, I sought alpha. Menessos, Una, and Ninurta had used astral travel to find the fey. Witches could similarly send their spirits out to journey for knowledge, tethered by a silver cord of light. Many even visited other worlds by this nonphysical means. I was going to find the gateway the fey were using to this world. Then I would shut it. For good.

  Letting my spirit project, I rose up over Lake Erie and followed the silver cord that Fax Torris was using as a tether to her own world while manifesting herself here.

  I followed it, speeding across Earth to the place where the portal originated. This was where Fax Torris’s line led me. No other cords were using the gateway. The other fairies were dead or had fled home.

  Calling the glowing mantle of the Lustrata—given me by Hecate herself—to my spirit shoulders, I touched the badge with the balanced scales over my heart.

  Fax Torris has done enough damage to both worlds.

  With steadfast will, I visualized the gateway and, raising the wand with Menessos’s blood, I demanded it slam shut. My own power poured into that plea and, as Menessos said, I added my desperation, hope, and resolve. Lastly, I offered my pain and loss.

  The door started to swing shut.

  When finally it closed, her cord snapped back to her. Severed. I hoped that she realized the chance at freedom she’d lost. I hoped she panicked. And I hoped Vilna-Daluca was the one to strike her down. For Xerxadrea.

  For several minutes I remained engulfed in the astral world, creating seals—I visualized steel bank-vault doors and thick concrete. When I had erected what I believed to be an impenetrable blockade, it was done.

  Fax Torris wasn’t going to escape back to her world. One way or another, she was going to die in mine.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  By the time I returned from the astral plane to the circle on the shore and released the elemental quarters, the witches were flying in low from the lake. The red fairy was nowhere to be seen.

  What remained of the elementals had gathered around the circle. Without the magic collars, they were no longer ominous. The unicorns’ eyes had softened and they pawed at the sand as if bored. The griffons lay down like a herd of cattle before the rain. The phoenixes preened themselves. The dragons had curled up like coiled snakes.

  Thirty yards away, Kirk was crouched before Johnny and Mountain who were both sitting on the sand.

  Sitting. Alive! Thank you, Goddess.

  Two others I recognized as Beholders sat with them.

  I eased away from the circle, using a soothing voice to say things like, “Good griffon, stay. Pretty unicorn, don’t step on the vampire.”

  When I was clear of the animals, I ran toward Johnny, shouting his name.

  With Kirk’s help, he stood. He wasn’t naked; Kirk must have retrieved Johnny’s clothes for him. When I reached him, I almost knocked him down, wrapping him in my arms that urgently. Holding on so tight, I squeezed him like I’d never let go.

  He was gasping and flinching. I jerked back. “What’s wrong?”

  Johnny let me go to clutch at his chest. It took a few heartbeats before he found his voice. “Phoenix cut me.”

  “He needs stitches,” Kirk announced. His rifle was slung over his back.

  Johnny’s shirt was black. Other than being damp, it didn’t show blood.

  Vilna-Daluca’s voice came from behind me. “Is the gateway shut and sealed?”

  I twisted around. “It is. The fire fairy?”

  “Slain.” She didn’t say it proudly.

  There were perhaps eighteen witches with her. Most had visible wounds on them. I had seen three incinerated. From Vilna’s expression, I didn’t need to ask what had happened to the others.

  The distant wail of sirens was heard.

  Vilna-Daluca mounted her broom. “What are we going to do with them?” She gestured toward the elementals.

  “Excuse me,” Mountain said. He had managed to stand as well. Blood stained his ripped football jersey, but the flow from his bite had apparently stopped. Truthfully, he seemed steadier than Johnny. “I have an idea.”

  “What?”

  “Well, you have all that land . . . If you and the others can find a way to transport them, I’m sure the Beholders can build you a barn.”

  I put my hand on his arm. “There aren’t many Beholders left.”

  “We lost twelve, but the Boss has all of Heldridge’s people to deal with. This can be used as a test to evaluate them with. It’ll work, Seph. They can have it up in a day or two.”

  We weren’t at the haven and he used my name. It made me smile. I remembered he’d grown up on a farm. “Someone will have to tend them. Do you think the Boss would let you? Would you want to?”

  “If you ask him, yes.”

  “I’d be glad to.” If he wakes up. Goddess, please, let him wake up tonight. Let him be what he’s been meant to be for so long.

  Into the approaching wail of sirens, Vilna-Daluca spoke. “Jeanine, take a group and contain the elementals for now. We’ll deliver them to Persephone later.” Jeanine called out some names and immediately the group left to gather the animals. In moments, the elementals—some being assisted by the witches—were retreating out over Lake Erie. The griffons and phoenixes flew low, as she did, the dragons swam, and the unicorns did their walk-on-water trick.

  “The rest of you,” Vilna-Daluca instructed, “clean the beach of guns, casings, anything with fingerprints. Call in some waves to remove the broken brooms, the dead elementals, and other debris.” All jumped to action.

  Kirk and the Beholders helped Johnny to my car, then the Beholders got into their own vehicle and sped off. The police would be arriving momentarily.

  The waeres who’d fled earlier had taken their wounded with them; of those that remained to fight with Johnny, two had lost their lives to the beam. The Beholders had lost a dozen to the incinerating deathbeam. Someone had removed the Beholder with the eyes like a mistreated dog—I didn’t see him anywhere. The dead fey weren’t a problem. They disintegrated into goo.

  Vilna turned back to me. “Anything else, Persephone?”

  “Thank you.”

  “Blessed Be, Persephone.”

  “Blessed Be, Vilna-Daluca.” She swooshed out over the lake to join Celeste.

  Kirk came back across the sand. “Domn Lup sent me for the vampire.”

  “He’s dead.”

  “Duh. It’s cloudy, but the sun’s up,” Kirk said. “Johnny didn’t figure you’d leave the body.”

  Putting every ounce of hope into the idea that Menessos would rise tonight, I said, “Please help me get him to my car. He should be safe from the sun in the trunk.”

  Yeah. Because the risk of leaving the scene with a guy toting a rifle isn’t enough. It’ll be a better headline if there’s a dead body found in my trunk.

  EPILOGUE

  A semitruck had jackknifed, for no apparent reason, without injury to the driver or much damage to the vehicle, on Lakeshore Boulevard and delayed the first land responders. A mysterious fog on Lake Erie had slowed the Coast Guard. We—Mountain, Johnny, Kirk, and me—were able to leave the area without even seeing a police car. Mountain was riding shotgun, filling the front space of my car, the seat all the way back and partially reclined. Johnny was in the back middle with Kirk beside him. Kirk’s rifle and Menessos were in the trunk.

  Nobody spoke.

  Of course my mind was still racing. Mountain thinks the Beholders can build me a barn to house the unicorns, griffons, dragons, and phoenixes. He says they can do it in a day or two even. Depending on the kind of job they do, I may ask them about Nana’s room addition.

  Mountain didn’t ask me about his boss. He knew that Menessos had the ability
to be up and move around the haven during the day, yet we’d just dumped his body in the trunk. While vampires are supposed to be dead during the day, Mountain wasn’t stupid, either. I was certain his thoughts were racing as well.

  I headed toward I-77 South. I knew I couldn’t go back to the haven. I didn’t intend to drag Menessos’s body through the theater with whatever Beholders and Offerlings remained to see.

  I was going home. Home.

  I almost didn’t recognize Nana. She’d gotten a haircut. A major one. I stood there in the doorway staring. She ran a hand through the fluffy layers on top. It lay beautifully in natural waves. The sides and back were shorter. She smiled. “Saw myself on TV. Looked like a stump full of granddaddies.”

  She’d always compared someone’s messy hair to a spider’s nest. “It really looks good, Nana.” I went forward and hugged her tight.

  Johnny came in behind us and Kirk helped him upstairs. I gathered the Ace bandages from the bathroom and took them to the attic bedroom even as I called Doc Lincoln and left a message requesting a house call. After Johnny was wrapped in the bandage, Kirk and I brought down the mattress from my bed and put it on the living room floor for Mountain, who immediately crashed. Ares plopped right beside him. Both the big man and Nana’s Great Dane pup were snoring loudly within minutes. Then Kirk and I removed Menessos—wrapped in blankets—from the trunk of my car. Kirk let me know in no uncertain terms that he did not need a woman’s help to carry the vampire to the cellar. When he finished that, he wanted to call for a ride. I told him—also very directly—that he wasn’t going anywhere until he could be debriefed by his Domn Lup. So he went upstairs to wait with his king.

  I promised Nana—who’d had the nerve to gripe about the sand we were tracking through the house—and Beverley that they’d hear the full story after a nap of my own. I stretched out on the couch. Nana busied herself in the kitchen. Beverley curled up beside me, watching cartoons and keeping the volume low. “I’m so glad you’re home.”

  I squeezed her. “Me, too.”

  A few hours later, Beverley woke me. A pair of semis had pulled into my driveway. By the time we made it to the porch, Vilna-Daluca had opened the back of one and a flurry of phoenixes filled the air. Griffons leaped out and paraded by. Some of them had wounds. The one that had lost an eye and the talons from his foreleg was among them.