“Runes? Um, that would be a—” He turned and realized this position and my undies left little to the imagination. He gaped, then shut his mouth and turned away. “No.”
Oh hell. This is worse than I thought.
I wanted to come out of this feeling like I was helpful. Instead, I’d disappointed him.
When the chore of putting everything away was done, I reclaimed my seat on the bed. “What’s wrong?”
“I can tell you didn’t get an answer.” There was no blame in his voice, but there was plenty of dismay in his blue eyes.
“Not really. It answered more like a rune reading. I’ll have to give it some thought.”
He was stepping into his role as Domn Lup and giving up so much … his band was on the top of that endangered list. Making it big in the music industry meant everything to the three band members of Lycanthropia, but Johnny’s new role as front man for wærewolves everywhere could destroy that rock ’n’ roll dream. The band mates weren’t sure they should book any more shows and if they weren’t playing and packing in the crowds they weren’t of any interest to the industry reps.
“I’ll cross-reference the symbols tomorrow and see if I can make sense of it then.”
He nodded, pensive. His mood had sunk low. It had been a long, wearying day. Still, I decided to give it one more try.
“As the Lustrata,” I said, moving onto my hands and knees, “I’m supposed to balance the good and the bad.” I crawled closer, until our lips were an inch apart. “It’s important to me to make sure I give you something good, for all the bad you’re dealing with.”
“Well,” he replied, his voice taking that one syllable and letting it trail, growing deeper until he was nearly growling. It was such a male sound, like he was wrapping me in thick velvet with his voice, and when paired with the yearning that took over, it caused the ambiance of the room to change drastically. “In lieu of giving me the name of the person who did this to me, I can think of one other thing you could give me that’s very, very good… .”
With my palms on either side of his hips, I whispered, “Let me guess.”
CHAPTER SIX
Later, after Johnny had congratulated me on my “damn good guess,” we lay snuggled together, my head on his shoulder and one leg across his thighs. My fingers trailed over his stomach and my thoughts wandered.
I felt sad for him, now that the memory I’d taken from him was so clear to me. I knew what memory I’d taken from Menessos, and that I’d given him my memory of meeting the Goddess in a cornfield when I was a child—though I’d forgotten it until he recounted it to me. I didn’t know what memories Johnny and Menessos had shared. And I didn’t know what memory Johnny had taken from me. It wasn’t the night I lost my virginity; I could still remember that farce.
So I asked, “During the sorsanimus, I allowed you to have whatever memory you wanted. What one did you take?”
“Whatever I wanted?” One side of his mouth crooked up. “I don’t know if that really applies.” He considered it for a moment. “I guess I wanted a sense of what it was like to have a mother.”
I sat up. “A mother?” No, not my mother. Anything but that. Blood drained from my face. “What did you take?”
He stared at the ceiling, seemingly far away. “I can see you sitting on a cracked vinyl bathroom floor, a dirty bathtub at your back. You’re biting your lip … just like you still do … you’re watching your mom as she puts the curling iron to her hair and checks out the window. She’s on edge. You’re nervous; there’s no sense of the security a child should know. I can feel that you can’t please her, can’t make her smile and you want to so badly. You look at a paper in front of you. You’d made a big red heart and written ‘Mommy’ inside it. You’re so proud of it, the letters are neat, just like the teacher showed you. Your mother checks the window again, catches her breath, and whispers, ‘He came!’ and she’s so happy, so excited and she’s smiling. You want to give her your picture now. She comes and scoops you up in her arms and you feel like everything is safe and good. But she hasn’t seen your picture. You say, ‘Mommy, I drew—’ and she sees it. She sees you used her lipstick to draw it, the metal tube is on the floor, its contents worn down by your drawing. She screams at you, screams that you ruin everything. Her embrace isn’t warm or happy now, she’s squeezing you too tight. You begin to cry. She hurries down the hall with you and throws you into your little bed. Your arm hits hard against the wall and you cry louder. She says … terrible things.”
Though he didn’t tell me what she said, I could hear the echoes of her yelling in my memory. I’ll never have anything and it’s all because of you, you stupid little brat. I should have given you away! Instead I’ve spent eight years suffering, alone.
“There’s a padlock on the outside of your door and she locks you in. From your window, you see down into the apartment building’s parking lot. She gets into a truck with a man and leaves. You’re there alone, locked in your room, crying yourself to sleep.” He took a shaky breath. “You don’t know what to do when smoke fills your room. You can’t breathe, and then firemen kick in your door and take you away.”
His words had brought it all back and my tears wouldn’t be denied. “The curling iron,” I said. “She forgot to unplug it.” I wiped my cheeks. “At least I think she forgot. I’d rather not think that she purposely tried to kill me.”
Unable to reach the tissue box, Johnny offered me the corner of the sheet. “That’s … awful, Red.”
“I remember that night in the hospital, my mom snuck in and woke me up. She took me away without getting me discharged. She left me at Nana’s. They argued and I heard her say, ‘You didn’t want me to give her up, so you raise her.’ I never saw her again.”
I felt stupid for letting it hurt me so many years later—that was a hell of a memory for him to end up with—but I’d learned to let my emotions flow so they could keep flowing. When more tears sprang, I blotted them on the sheet. “If you wanted a memory with a sense of a mother’s unconditional love, you got cheated.”
“We both did.” Johnny ran his fingers comfortingly over my leg.
My breath caught; we were positioned exactly as Una and Ninurta were in the memory from Menessos.
Johnny mistook my reaction for something else. “C’mere,” Johnny whispered. I scooted down, head on his shoulder again. Moving slowly, he enfolded me in his arms as best he could. My misery drained out as if it had just happened, and I tried not to wonder if our positioning like Menessos’s most-beloved meant anything.
Well before dawn, Johnny was awake. He kissed my cheek on his way out of the bedroom. “I’m off to help with preparations for the memorial. I’ll see you … sometime. Not sure when. Probably after this whole thing is over tonight.”
“You must be feeling better.” I could have slept half the day.
He moved his arms like a fitness guru showing off biceps. “I’m a little stiff.”
“Still? I thought I took care of that last night?”
“Ha!” He used both index fingers to chalk up a whole row of points onto our air scoreboard. His enthusiasm cheered me from my sleepiness. “That you did. I think you have more innuendo points than I do now.” He was brimming with adoration—then his phone beeped and he was all business again as he read the text message. “Either Todd’s decisophobic, or he enjoys tormenting me with the final say-so of every detail.” He drew closer and kissed my cheek again. “I feel like I’m healing up now. That salt did the trick. Good thing, too. The authenticity of my being the Domn Lup would sink if I’m strolling around with my arm in a sling.”
Male pride. I stretched, arching my back. “Should I come with you?” I asked around a yawn.
He bit at my nipples through my shirt. “I love it when you do.”
Laughter chased the yawn away. “Point for you.”
He pulled his arm back at the elbow and said, “Yes! Ow … oooo.” He rubbed at his chest. “Okay, no celebratory arm movements yet.”
“Should I come to the memorial with you?”
“It’d probably be better if you didn’t.”
“Okay. Guess I’ll dig into that rune reading today.”
That won me a third kiss on the cheek and, too soon, Johnny left.
Determined to unravel the meaning of the rune reading and unable to go back to sleep, I got up. Half an hour later, as I sat in the kitchen writing out my notes, I suddenly felt a shriveling sensation, as if I were a balloon filled with water and all of it was gushing out of me, leaving me empty and depleted. It took my breath away.
But it wasn’t my flesh that had been drained … it was my soul.
The sun had risen; Menessos had died.
With each gasp of air I gulped, I recovered and the withering and abandoned feeling receded. I resumed writing out my notes.
Soon, the floor above me creaked. The sound signaled that Nana and Beverley had roused and it was time to start breakfast. I started coffee, popped some bread in the toaster, and boiled water for oatmeal. With such uncommon events occurring lately, these ordinary household chores held greater meaning to me. I needed to cling to these moments when I could.
Nana shuffled in, took a cup of coffee, and sat in my spot at the dinette. “Johnny’s gone early today. Heard my car coughing down the road.” The rusty Chrysler LeBaron did need a tune-up.
“Pack things to attend to.”
“Sounds like I’ve got car things to attend to.” She lit a cigarette. “What’s this?” She tapped the paper with my notes.
“Runes.”
“Shit, Persephone, I can see that,” Nana croaked. She scanned the drawn runes and the notes I’d made about which were reversed.
Before I could reply, Beverley and Ares bounded down the stairs sounding like a small herd of cattle. I got sidetracked serving the kiddo her oatmeal with brown sugar, and forgot to answer Nana. While Beverley ate, I made her lunch. After affixing a sticky note with a joke written on it to her sandwich bag, I zipped up the lunchbox and tucked it in her book bag.
The party invitations for her classmates were already stashed in the front pocket. I’d promised her a big birthday party. Though she would officially become ten on Thursday, we were inviting her whole class over on Saturday. And I had secret plans for some docile ponies to attend, too.
Ares was sitting by his bowl, tail skimming over the floor in rhythm with his hungry whining, so I fed him.
After finishing my own bowl of oatmeal, I tidied up the kitchen and let the puppy out to do his business. Nana remained uncharacteristically quiet throughout all of this, studying the runes I hadn’t explained. When Beverley and I headed out the door for the bus stop, Nana was still scowling at the paper.
As my Toyota Avalon rolled into the driveway, a white delivery van turned in behind me. It had followed me most of the way back from the bus stop. So, curious and concerned, I stopped the car halfway up the drive, put it in park, and got out, ready to go on the offensive if need be. When I saw INCOMPARABLE DELIVERIES, LTD on the van’s side, however, I relaxed.
A deliveryman in dark blue coveralls and matching cap stepped out. At Hallowe’en, this same man had delivered a costume from Menessos. “You?” My surprise got ahead of my manners. “Good morning.” I saw the name embroidered on his coveralls, and added an awkward “David.”
“Good morning to you, too, miss.” He offered me a manila envelope then headed back to the van and left.
Inside the envelope was proof of Menessos’s ability to swiftly pull political strings. I now had official permits for building two barns and a chicken coop, adding a bedroom-and-bath addition to the house, “site improvement” to and placement of a mobile home, and to dig a second well on my property.
Tossing this onto the seat, I put the Avalon in the garage. Nana opened the door from the kitchen before I’d even cut the engine. The toe of her pink fuzzy slipper was impatiently tapping. Her new, softer hairdo did nothing to diminish the supreme authority she could convey. Guess it wasn’t just the outdated beehive.
As soon as I opened the car door she demanded, “Are you planning to move into that vampire’s haven?”
“No!” Her question stunned me. “I may have to show up once in a while, though.” I slammed the door a little harder than was necessary and clomped up the steps carrying my purse and the manila envelope. “What makes you think that?”
Nana harrumphed as she shuffled into the kitchen and resumed her place at the table. “Your rune reading.”
Deciphering that was my whole purpose this morning, so I was eager for her input. “I’m better with Tarot than runes. So explain.”
“What pattern were you using for this seven-rune spread?”
“No pattern. That’s just how it ended up.” I filled my favorite coffee mug; it had Waterhouse’s Lady of Shalott on it. I joined her at the dinette after dropping my insulated flannel on the chair back.
“Typically, a seven-rune reading divides into four parts. The first two define the problem, the second two reveal the past factors that have brought about this situation, and the third pair give advice. The final rune tells you what to expect if you take that advice.”
“Okay.” With the powerful irritation Nana was radiating, I didn’t dare try to retrieve my notes from her and assess them according to that premise. I’d see what she had to say then tell her the circumstances under which I’d actually gotten this list of runes.
“Well, according to these, the problem stems from someone who wanted what was best for them and that caused you to have to change your plans. Sounds like the vampire making you his court witch.”
She had a point—if the reading had been about me, which it wasn’t. Moreover, Nana didn’t know about the sorsanimus ritual. I was able to do this reading for Johnny because we now shared souls. No way was I going to explain all that to Nana right now.
“And the next two say that your poor judgment and the chance encounter with that vampire brought this all on you.”
I nodded without comment. She was seeing what she wanted to see in the reading. If there truly was a dual reading at work here, then maybe it pointed to my meeting with Beauregard, the Bindspoken witch who owned the witch supply shop Wolfsbane and Absinthe. Because he gave me the spell components to do the sorsanimus ritual, I owed him a favor. More likely, though, all this referred to how Johnny was brought into the situation where he was given the tattoos.
“In the next pair, Nauthiz cautions you to think twice before taking action, while Uruz, to me, represents very masculine forces—so you should think twice where any men are concerned.”
“Okay.” Except that was probably Johnny dealing with other men, like maybe the Rege who would be here in a few days. “And the last one?”
“Tells you to take good advice. Like mine. And I say: Stay home and leave the vampire alone.”
My mouth opened, ready to tell her it was Johnny’s reading and the “separation” inherent in the last rune was more of a warning against letting any difficulties interfere with or cause a separation between him and the root of his spiritual strength. Before I could make a sound, though, she added, “Let the mundane humans buy all that romantic crap about vampires, but a witch should know better.” She thumped the table with her fist for emphasis.
That was when a semitrailer truck bounced past the house, as in, in my yard, and headed through the cornfield along the path of the trodden-down stalks.
For a moment, Nana and I just gaped. Then my feet had me hurrying out the door. Nana called my name, stopping me long enough for her to toss the flannel to me. “Can’t have you catching cold.”
I donned the jacket as I rushed outside—I’d forgotten to shut the overhead garage door because of Nana—and jogged after the semi.
Those hand-delivered building permits had arrived just in time.
Before I reached the pathway, a second truck was crossing my yard, and I got out of its way. A third with a flatbed trailer stopped on the road to unload a backhoe and a fo
rklift. A small bus rolled to a stop behind it. The bus doors opened and dozens of men streamed out. Or, more accurately, dozens of Beholders.
Mountain came across the cornfield shouting directions for the Beholders to form lines in a certain area for a head count. Menessos’s men were dressed in work clothes and heavy-duty boots. They were prepared for a day of hard, dirty work.
Heldridge’s men, however, looked more like thugs. Some wore gold chains and rings. Some sported dark sunglasses or bandannas. All of them were wearing clothes that branded them a bunch of badasses while also screaming, “I’ve got money,” because the crisp, clean, new clothes were undeniably designer labels.
Though I was excited that a barnraising was about to commence, I realized that running out here in the midst of that excitement might have been hasty. We weren’t certain whose side these human vampire servants were on. My pace increased as I headed to intercept Mountain.
The forklift barreled over to remove a skid from the first semi. Someone pushed a delivery list into Mountain’s hands and he skimmed it, flipping pages and nodding. When he looked up, Mountain saw me and waved. Strands of his überlong ponytail lifted in the chilly morning breeze.
“It’s cold,” I said, stepping up beside him. “Did the tent keep you warm enough to sleep well?”
His head bobbed. “It did.” The bus driver left his vehicle idling and strolled over with a drive-thru bag and a large coffee that he passed to Mountain, who shoved the delivery list under his arm. “Thanks, Derek,” he said as the man walked away. “Hold this?” He offered me the coffee and I held it while he dug a sausage biscuit from the bag. “Mind if I eat?”
“Not at all,” I answered. I watched the line of Beholders, Menessos’s warning at the forefront of my thoughts.
He bit, chewed, mmm-ed. “Speaking of eating, the griffons caught a pair of deer last night.”
“Oh?” I shot a glance toward the animals; they had all moved into the grove itself. Phoenixes perched in branches, and while the unicorns’ alabaster coats were plainly visible amid the tree trunks, the griffons were barely discernable. I couldn’t see the dragons, but I heard their distinctive warbling. It seemed they would all stay clear of the Beholders. Good.
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