Arcane Circle

by Linda Robertson

  Ordinary families don’t have the Regional Vampire Lord’s servants building barns in their backyard.

  The thuglike men from Heldridge were as dirty as Menessos’s men, but they were moving much more stiffly. Some were inspecting their hands and I recalled Mountain saying they’d have blisters.

  There was no evidence of animosity among them; it seemed from their behavior that some had made friends with Menessos’s men. That was encouraging. I needed something to go right today.

  Mountain brought up the rear, talking with a wiry older man. Mountain pointed at the house and the two of them approached the new foundation with a tape measure out.

  “What are they doing?” Beverley asked.

  The phone rang. Nana moved to answer the long-corded kitchen phone.

  “Making plans for Nana’s room,” I whispered.

  Beverley nodded. “What’s got her so grouchy?”

  “Dunno.” I wasn’t going to tell Beverley that Nana was mad at me because I’d kept secrets from her. I didn’t want to be the do-as-I-say-not-as-I-do brand of foster mother. “How’s the math?”

  “Easy.” She wrapped her arms around me in a hug. “I’m so glad I’m here, where the unicorns are.”

  “Me, too.” I rubbed her back. “How’s the history?”

  “Same.”

  Seeing how small, innocent, and eager to please she was, my heart ached. How could anyone ever treat a child wrongly? Beverley wasn’t even my child but I couldn’t imagine hitting her or locking her in a room. Sometimes I doubted myself as a parent, but unlike my own mother, I’d never resented the existence of the child in my home, or wished that she weren’t here.

  I can’t fess up about Xerxadrea or my mother now. With the snit Nana’s in, that additional information might turn the kitchen into a war zone. Maybe tomorrow.

  Behind me, Nana hung up the phone with more force than necessary, and shuffled back to the stove, grumbling. Beverley peered up at me questioningly.

  “Must’ve been a sales call,” I whispered.

  The buses were leaving. I moved into the bench seat across from Beverley, where I could evaluate Nana.

  That was when the sun sank away; I knew it because I felt Menessos awaken screaming in torment, felt him suck down his first breath of this night, felt him whisper my name as he regained control of himself. That sensation of filling up, of being whole, returned. A few deep breaths later, my body felt equalized.

  Mountain left his muddy boots at the front door and entered the kitchen in sock feet. He washed up at the sink—he was so tall and thick that he didn’t fit in the little bathroom under the stairs. “Where’s Johnny?” he asked.

  “I don’t think he’s going to join us,” I said. “He’s still at the memorial for those lost on the beach.”

  “Mountain, you’re in charge of security for now,” Maxine said, coming in from the living room where she’d supervised the Beholders’ departure via the window.

  “The head count on the bus was the same for the number that arrived,” he said.

  “Noted. We’re going to check the perimeter and then get supplies.”

  Nana set the casserole dish she’d just taken from the oven onto the stovetop. “Will you eat?”

  That’s my Nana. If she didn’t like someone she could give them the cold shoulder all day, but when dinner was served she’d still expect them to eat. She’d be mightily offended if they snubbed her dinner in retaliation.

  “No, thank you. We’re going to make our rounds, and get some supplies. We’ll eat while we’re out. See you in two hours.”

  Nana wordlessly transferred the meal onto the plates, but clanking dishes and spoons voiced her irritation for her.

  I meant no insult to the sentinels, but some time away from them suited me just fine. Having lived alone for a few years before Nana moved in, sharing meals had developed into a special activity.

  Mountain sat in the chair adjacent to Beverley’s. I was in the back corner on the bench. Nana served everyone a plate of salad, crusty bread, and a chunk of her casserole, then slid in beside me. Beverley appraised the food on her plate, dissecting it with her fork to inspect the layers. “It smells good, but I don’t know what it is.”

  “My mother called it mousakas kolokythakia. It’s moussaka with zucchini.”

  “I like zucchini,” Beverley said. “My mom used to slice it and fry it.”

  Nana pointed at her. “She gave you more than a beautiful face and a sweet disposition then, young lady. She gave you variety in taste. Good for her, and good for you.” Nana dug into her food.

  I enjoyed taking a meal with a small cozy group, and with these three people in particular, it felt like a satisfyingly domestic exercise. A chance to sit calmly together and have some peaceful conversation … it was a common thing that my hectic life promised to allow less and less. For me, struggling through the balance-driven destiny of the Lustrata was paid back like this, in these quiet moments breaking bread with family. It was right and warm—Nana’s irritation notwithstanding.

  Or maybe Nana’s fabulous bechamel sauce with cheese was making me sentimental.

  “Are the barns done?” I asked Mountain.

  “Almost. The animals are in them, but the roofs and the insides need some final touches.”

  “So, Mountain,” Nana began conversationally, but the edge of annoyance in her tone couldn’t stay hidden, “what kind of mess-making can we expect tomorrow?”

  He wiped his mouth on a napkin. “Here at the house, they’re going to cut through the new house-side foundation panel and into the cellar, to route the electric, plumbing, and heating for your addition. When that’s done they’ll put up the floor joists and subflooring, erect the prefab walls. This is where the Beholders really shine. Once the foundations are set to build on, we’re fast.” He paused. “Out in the field, the water truck is coming tomorrow to fill the dragon’s pool. The well pump will be put in, the electric wired.”

  “Did the electric company get the poles in?”

  He nodded. “The foundation for my mobile home is in, too. It’ll be delivered and set up. Since the semis have already torn up the yard, I requested that a gravel driveway be put in, running to the barns, but I’m not sure if they’ll do that tomorrow or the next day. And I asked for a truck for myself.”

  “You’re so lucky,” Beverley said.

  “Because I might get a truck?”

  “Because you get to live out there with the unicorns.”

  “I’ll technically be closer to the dragons.” He covered his mouth like he was sharing a secret with her. “And let me tell you, they snore like buzz saws.”

  She giggled.

  “Did Heldridge’s men give you any cause for concern?” I asked.

  “They didn’t have any construction sense.” He readied another bite of moussaka. “And they weren’t accustomed to physical labor, either.”

  “Didn’t slow you down any,” I put in.

  The phone rang again. Nana slammed her fork down and rose to answer it. The rest of us were politely quiet. She glanced fleetingly in my direction before stepping into the living room to talk privately. I tried to listen in, but even with my hearing being amped up by my connection to the vampire, Mountain and Beverley’s discussion of unicorns combined with the clattering dryer kept me from hearing. When Nana reappeared, she was more disgruntled than before.

  And I was more curious than ever.

  Which is probably the point. She wants me curious so she can deny me some knowledge as payback. So I resolved not to be curious. Outwardly, anyway.

  CHAPTER TEN

  When the meal had been eaten, Mountain headed into the living room. He was on guard duty until the sentinels returned. Beverley and I cleared the table and did the dishes. While we were drying the silverware, Nana took a third call, whispering in the dining room. Again I couldn’t hear. The clanging silverware and the television program that Mountain was watching interfered. The call ended right after Beverley fed
Ares and hurried upstairs to run her bathwater.

  Nana was usually right behind her, but not tonight. Instead, she joined me in the kitchen. “We need to talk.”

  Good for her, being direct. “I know.” I hung the drying towel on the little bar inside the lower cabinet door to dry. It was my turn to be direct. “I didn’t tell you about Xerxadrea because it hurt. I didn’t want to—” I stopped there. Saying her name had caused a lump to clog my throat. The culpability and grief were still so close.

  “Didn’t want to what?”

  “Cry.” Hot drops rolled down my cheeks. “Once Aquula was buried, the fairies attacked. Xerxadrea gave her life to save mine.” My statement was as blunt as I could make it, and still it ended with my voice cracking.

  Nana’s brows flew up.

  “I was going to tell you. I just wanted a little distance from it first. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

  She came and put her arms around me and I let the tears fall. “What happened?”

  “The fire fairy sent a ball of flame at me. Xerxadrea flew in and took the hit before it could reach me.”

  “That’s why she crashed?” Nana patted my back and released me.

  I nodded, wiped my cheeks again. “It was … awful. She knew it would happen. Said she’d foreseen it.”

  Nana gave me a moment then remarked, “Does this mean you’ll get off my ass about scrying?”

  Her crass statement drew a choked laugh from me. “No. I don’t want you to do anything noble with that high of a price.”

  She dug a cigarette from her pocket case and lit it. “Since we’re being all open now, you need to know … we have another problem.” She used the ash end to point at the long-corded phone on the wall. “Those phone calls.” She said it like she was ratting on someone.

  “Oh?”

  “They’re RSVPs for the party.” Nana sounded discouraged.

  “Are they saying no?”

  “Not exactly. They’re from concerned parents.”

  “Concerned about what?”

  “That you might try to be here.”

  That stunned me so much I almost gave myself whiplash.

  “They all saw the news. They think you’re still at the haven, but one said she thought you’d gotten Beverley from the bus stop this evening. They want to make sure you won’t be here because they don’t want ‘that kind of person’ around their children.”

  I sank into the dinette chair. “Oh.”

  “At first,” Nana said, sitting on the bench across from me, “I thought I’d tell them to kiss my wrinkled-up, lily-white ass, but … this party is for Beverley, not me, not you. So I said that the bus-stop inspectors were wrong, that I hoped I never saw you again, and that I had no reason to think you’d be here.”

  Head dropping forward miserably, my fingers raked through my hair. Yup. This is the rotten, train-wreck kind of day I’m having.

  I’d stood up for a greater justice to lure out killers and to set up our fight against the fairies. It had worked in favor of my friends. And it had worked against my family. Doing the right thing for the right reason was biting me in the ass.

  “You have to be at this party,” Nana continued, “but we need to figure out a way to make this community open its arms to you.”

  As if on cue, the phone rang. Dismal, Nana rose to answer it. Again, she took it to the dining room. However, now that she’d told me, she didn’t restrain her voice on this caller. I heard her say, “No. To my knowledge she will not be here.” Silence. “Yes, yes, I understand, but I don’t care who you think you saw. I do have other relatives, you know.” Silence again. “I don’t want Persephone here for the party either.”

  During Nana’s next wordless moment, Beverley stuck her head around the wall of the hallway. “What’s going on?”

  There was no gurgle of bathwater running upstairs. “Why aren’t you in the tub?”

  “I wanted a drink of milk. May I?”

  “Of course.”

  When she’d poured herself a full glass, she came to the dinette, sipping. I patted my thigh. “Come on.”

  She slid the glass onto the table then climbed up in my lap. “Why is Demeter telling someone she doesn’t want you here for my party?”

  My arms encircled her. “Remember when I had to go to the haven for a few days with Menessos?”

  She nodded.

  “I told you Nana would have to say some mean things about me, things she didn’t really believe but had to say to keep you both safe. That’s what she’s doing now.”

  “Telling people she doesn’t want you here keeps us safe?”

  “It’s getting complicated. You see … some of your classmates’ parents are objecting to me being here.”

  “Why?” she asked. “They’re not the bad guys, are they?”

  “No, no. Nothing like that.” I could sell myself the illusion that we were a normal family but I couldn’t sell that fantasy to the community around me. We weren’t normal and I’d broadcast it all across the news. I swallowed my dejection and stuttered out the answer. “In order to let the bad guys think Nana and I were mad at each other, we had to tell everyone. She was on TV and so was I. The bad guys saw what we wanted them to see and all of that worked out. Unfortunately, your classmates’ parents saw it, too. Now, they’re not sure they should let their children come to a party being held by us.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “They don’t approve of what I was doing on TV. But Nana’s telling them I won’t be here, to make sure they do come.”

  Her arms gripped me tight. “But I want you here.”

  “I know. And I want to be here.”

  Nana shuffled in and hung up the phone. She was ready to shoo Beverley off to her bath, but even as her mouth opened the phone rang again. Her mouth twisted in exasperation and she answered crossly.

  “We’ll work something out,” I said to Beverley.

  “Why are they being so mean?”

  I rubbed her head. “They are doing what they think is right, protecting their children. I don’t blame them for that.”

  “That’s stupid. You wouldn’t hurt their kids.” She crossed her arms and frowned deeply.

  “Of course not. But they aren’t sure of that. Parents want to make sure the places their children go are safe.” Except for the parents who leave their children locked up in apartments about to catch fire.

  Nana hung up the phone again. “That was the vet,” she said. “He’s been called to an emergency, and won’t be able to make it out tonight.” She gestured at Beverley. “Come along.”

  “Can we have just a few more minutes?” I asked.

  “Of course. I’ll draw the bath and pour in the bubble juice.” She shuffled away.

  “They are being good parents,” I reiterated to Beverley. “Even if it’s not what you or I want them to do, they’re doing their job. Be glad your friends are loved that much.”

  Her brow puckered. “They’re being dumb.”

  I’d never seen her like this. “No, they are not.”

  “What did you do that was sooo bad?”

  Her sarcasm clued me in that she didn’t think I’d do anything bad. It made telling the truth harder. “I let Menessos drink from me.”

  Her eyes widened as much as possible and then some. Her crossed arms fell limp. “On TV?”

  “Yes. Everyone knows what I did and they know I’m a witch and they were told that I’m in a position to take orders from a vampire. Any one of those things is reason enough for parents to question whether letting their children around me is safe.”

  It sounded awful even to me. I’m a fool to think I can provide a normal home life for Beverley.

  She pushed my hair back and examined my neck. The wounds had nearly healed; all that remained were two pink marks. “So because of you no one’s going to come to my party?”

  The blame in her words struck me harder than Vilna’s hand.

  We remained silent for heartbeats. With
my fingers making a V, I touched her forehead and pushed gently upward as I said, “Hold on there, wrinkly-mad eyebrows.”

  That made her brows knit tighter. “My mom used to let Goliath drink from her. Then everything got messed up!” She jumped off my lap, flinging her arms out and knocking the glass to the floor where it shattered. “Now she’s dead!” Beverley ran from the kitchen.

  I was left alone with the spilled milk and shards of broken glass. I dropped to my knees and started piling the larger pieces in my palm.

  My breath caught.

  My mother had showed up and it ended with me smashing my favorite mug. Her words from so long ago echoed through my mind: I’ll never have anything and it’s all because of you, you stupid little brat.

  Eris was selfish. She did what she needed—locking me in my room so she could go on dates and ultimately she abandoned me with Nana.

  As I stared at the sharp fragments in my hand, I wondered if I was any different. I’d done what I needed to do as the Lustrata. Though I’d acted to safeguard Beverley since her mother died, I wasn’t exactly Mary Poppins. Because of me, Beverley had been kidnapped and nearly killed by the fairies. Now, because of me, she may not even have any friends.

  Maybe she’d be better off—and safer—with someone else.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  A half hour later, with the milk and glass cleaned up, I sat in front of my computer trying to work on my column when the phone rang again. Nana had the cordless with her so I didn’t move to answer. Not that I was getting much work done while sitting there feeling like a complete failure and social pariah.

  I took the protrepticus from my jeans’ pocket and opened it. No light. I shut it and laid it on the desk. Earlier that day, it had rung. Sam had spoken to me. And Xerxadrea was dead. Her death should have broken the bond between her and Sam and me. His spirit should have been freed and gone from the device.

  Questions piled up in my mind like a traffic jam. It was after sunset; maybe Menessos could provide some answers. I reached for the satellite phone.

  “Seph,” Nana croaked from the top of the stairs. “It’s for you.”

  I left the satellite phone where it was and replaced the protrepticus in my pocket as I walked to the kitchen and picked up the corded phone. Phones everywhere. “Got it,” I called back. “Hello?”