Arcane Circle

by Linda Robertson

  Johnny’s fingers trailed over my back for a few heartbeats, then he sat up and mimicked my pose. “Her mother became a wærewolf when Beverley was just a baby. From the very start, Red, her path was never going to be the Norman Rockwell version of a normal life—whatever that is. Her mother had a vampire lover and she was murdered by a rogue witch. Don’t beat yourself up because you can’t provide normal. You provide love.”

  I bit my lip. “What if that’s not enough for her?”

  “How could it not be?”

  Laying my head on my knees, I let the sadness rise up. “She said that everything got screwed up after her mom started letting Goliath drink from her. She depends on me, she’s lost everything, and now her party may be ruined because I’m letting Menessos drink from me.” The tears fell. “She’s never going to trust me.”

  Johnny’s arm wrapped my shoulders and he pulled me to him. “Yes, she will.”

  “I’m bound to him, Johnny. I can’t undo it.”

  “Would you, if you could, for her?”

  “I might.”

  “You did the right thing for the right reason,” he said.

  It was my former mantra, but now I hated each syllable. “I chose to act for justice. But I didn’t see how any of it could trickle down and encroach on her life.” Miserably, I added, “I should have.”

  “You acted. Of course the situation changed afterward. Most people would have been immobilized by their fear. Not you. In the moment, you did what was right. You always do—because of that you saved her life at the Covenstead. Because you’re willing to take action. You can’t reevaluate your past based on current events. What’s done is done. You can only make changes to the present and hope for the best future to come.”

  Johnny laid back and pulled me close so my head lay on his shoulder. I felt safe in his arms and I let his words reassure me as he idly stroked my hair.

  Sleep had almost claimed me when he whispered, “Maybe you could wear a disguise to the party.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Johnny cuddled close and whispered into my ear, “You know, technically, a shower is a lot like rain.”

  “What?” I asked over my shoulder, wiping away sleep. The clock read six-fifty. The sun wasn’t up yet.

  He ran his fingers from my thigh to my hip and let his warm palm rest on my waist under the tank top I’d slept in. “Thought I might cash in that rain check in the shower.”

  “You mean the shower that’s so close to Nana and Beverley’s rooms?”

  “We can be quiet.”

  “The day I orgasm quietly will be a bad day.”

  He beamed at that remark. “Yeah, you are noisy. I dig it.” He brushed hair from the nape of my neck and bit me gently. My reaction to that was arching my back and wishing ardently for thicker walls. When I moaned in quiet frustration, he twisted to sit on the side of the bed. “But that would be a little brazen, wouldn’t it?”

  I rolled over to watch the red foo dog and black dragon tattoos dance on his back as his muscles bunched in a stretch. “Nana hasn’t breathed a word about us sharing a bed, yet. It’s a good idea to refrain from tempting her beyond her ability not to butt in.”

  “Good for whom?”

  He had a point.

  Johnny grabbed his pants from the floor and held them modestly in front of him as he stood and faced me. “Probably a wise call, but,” moving the jeans aside, he added, “I can’t say my ‘morning wood’ agrees.”

  Every nerve ending sizzled when I saw him. I threw the covers off and knee-walked across the bed. His deep blue eyes, framed in messy dark curls, capture me as I reached out and fondled him. “It’d be a shame to waste it.”

  “It would.”

  Though he slept naked, I didn’t. I released him to roll my tank top up slowly, teasingly. He followed its revealing progress, breathing faster. When I pulled it over my head, he responded by pushing my boy shorts down and letting his hands wander until he discovered how wet I was. I wiggled out of the shorts and dropped them to the floor. “Ta-da.”

  “If you skipped the pj’s you wouldn’t have to go through all that.” He moved closer. Holding me, he nibbled on my ear and nuzzled into my hair. “You smell so good,” he said.

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. Sweet like lilacs.” He caressed my breasts, my nipples. I trembled, ensnared by Johnny’s touch, his scent, and his voice. A decadent heat engulfed me. This wasn’t like the enflamed yearning Menessos could incite with his voice. This was a more deliberate reaction, triggered by certainty. The pleasure Johnny could give me—had given me repeatedly—was flawless.

  “Get behind me,” I said, twisting onto all fours. Growling in approval, he joined me on the bed and stroked me with his fingers, pressing them slowly inside me. I moaned softly and rolled my hips. “Please.”

  His cock pressed at my opening, but didn’t thrust inside.

  He knew me, he knew I was greedy for him and wanted all of him deep within me. He grasped my hips and held me firmly while he rubbed just the tip in and out. In and out. Over and over, until I was desperate for all of him, yearning for gratifying release, and shaking with the need of it.

  I pushed against his grip; he was strong and maintained the distance. Only the tip. “All of it, Johnny,” I whispered, my voice hoarse.

  “All?”

  “Now. Please.”

  “As you wish.”

  I was so wet, when he shoved his length into me, there was no resistance. A whimper of pleasure passed from my lips and I tossed my head, throwing my hair across my naked back.

  Johnny took a handful of my hair and twisted it around his hand until his grip was at the nape of my neck. He held me there with my head raised. It was aggressive and controlling. It was dominant. I liked it.

  I liked the power play. The idea that he claimed a position of control excited me. But I was not without power. My back arched, knees flexed, almost drawing me off him. Then, with his other hand’s fingers pressed on my hip bone, he urged me back. I thrust myself onto him again.

  We had a rhythm, a balance of control and consent. Still, I swiveled my hips every so often just to remind him his control wasn’t absolute; I could veer from the rhythm.

  An incredible orgasm was ready to overtake me—

  Then I felt Menessos clinging to life despite the rising sun. I could feel him kindling my flesh, burning under my sternum, heating deep in my core. It was so good, so powerful I lost myself in it, moving faster and more forcefully. I was almost there.

  —Menessos died.

  The kindling warmth disappeared. I was alone with Johnny again.

  But none of the urgency faded. None of the desire dwindled. Somehow, knowing this was mine, all mine and mine alone, made it better.

  Johnny was building up to his own orgasm. All he needed was a squeeze from me. That squeeze. He was waiting for me, in full control of himself, and now that Menessos had succumbed to his curse, I gave Johnny full control. I let go. I obeyed his rhythm precisely.

  The orgasm hit me like free-falling, a glorious sensation rippling across my body, my heart pounding, my breath racing.

  My elbows gave and I thrust my face into a pillow as I cried out. Johnny maintained his grip in my hair, but stretched his arm to allow me distance.

  When the angle changed, my sensitivity to his movements redoubled and the climax was revived. My fingers clawed into the sheets until my body was overloaded, until the low growls from Johnny’s chest had stopped, until we collapsed onto the bed, twisting to lie side-by-side until we caught our breath.

  While Johnny showered, I lounged in the bed. His return was quick, and he wore only his jeans. His wet hair was in a towel-dried but adorable mess. I left my warm bed and inspected his chest because I couldn’t not touch him. “You took the stitches out.”

  “Yeah. Oh, look, it’s a tit bit nippy in here,” he said, performing his own inspection on me.

  “I’ll crank the heat up if you like.”

  “I do li
ke it when you crank up the heat … but don’t touch the thermostat. More fun for me.”

  I felt very grateful that his mood and his libido were elevated again. He’d laid out another button-down shirt and as I passed it to him, he volunteered to make breakfast and Beverley’s lunch while I showered. I accepted the offer.

  The aroma of coffee and bacon lured me down the stairs. Though I had been a vegetarian for several years, as Menessos had warned me, my connections to Johnny were making the savory scents of meat more scrumptious to me with each passing day. I joined the rest of them in the kitchen where I discovered Johnny’s cooking had won over the sentinels. Outside, the night was fading. It was light enough that Johnny could see the dark shadows of the barns. “It’s like in the cartoons: ACME barns. Just add a drop of water and poof.”

  Beverley thought that was hilarious.

  Maxine and Zhan were in suits of navy blue and pale gray this morning. They donned their suit jackets to make a round outside before the Beholders showed up.

  Johnny passed a plate into my hands. Though two greasy slices of bacon lay beside the eggs and toast, I accepted it eagerly.

  Soon Beverley put her empty plate in the sink and left to brush her teeth. She hadn’t spoken a syllable to me.

  “Enjoy your coffee,” Nana said. “Since we have spies in minivans, I’ll take her to the bus stop from now on.”

  “Spies in minivans?” Johnny echoed.

  “One of the objecting parents recognized me picking up Beverley yesterday.” For a few minutes, the three of us brainstormed about how we could get this party on track. Johnny pitched his disguise idea to Nana. She gave it her approval.

  Beverley strolled slowly into the room. “If I get an A on the math test today, can I see the unicorns again?” she asked, studying the floor where the broken glass had been. With the very last word, her eyes lifted to meet mine.

  She was blank; I hadn’t a clue about what she was feeling. But I conceded, “That would be a fitting reward.”

  Nana drove her to the bus stop—after Johnny assured me he’d remembered to stick a joke in her lunchbox—and I began gathering my supplies for the ritual.

  I packed white taper candles. Green, yellow, red, and blue votive candles. My incense holder and incense. Two bowls. A bottle of crystal water and a pouch of sea salt. I had hematites, aventurines, bloodstones, and coral. I tucked all of these into my overnight bag, added my wand, and had my broom ready. It was not the ritual broom that had been used in the previous version of this spell, but I felt that having my flying broom from the lucusi couldn’t hurt.

  Hearing the LeBaron sputtering outside, I zipped up the bag and headed downstairs with the Codex copy in hand.

  In the kitchen, Maxine and Zhan had completed their rounds and were having a discussion. Curious, I stepped down the hallway. From the muffled growling sounds, I guessed Johnny was rough-housing with Ares in the garage.

  Nana shuffled through the front door and immediately joined us. She had brought down her notebook with translations of the Trivium Codex this morning, and she dumped her coat on the back of her chair then sat. “You take the Codex copy?”

  “Yes.” I handed it to her.

  On cue, Johnny strode in. After planting a quick kiss on my cheek, he claimed the last pieces of bacon.

  “We should go with them,” Maxine said to Zhan.

  “I believe one of us should stay,” Zhan countered, “to make certain that no one enters the house.”

  Maxine said, “We were told to protect her, not her house or her grandmother.”

  “Is it not implied?” the Asian woman asked. Maxine did not respond. “It would be negligent not to have considered all the implications,” Zhan added.

  “But she will be surrounded by wærewolves.”

  “Hey, Red won’t be in any danger there,” Johnny said.

  “You don’t know that,” Maxine pressed.

  His shoulders squared at her challenge. “Yes, I do.” His tone was more authoritative than I’d ever heard. The voice of the Domn Lup made Maxine swallow whatever retort she might have considered. From the garage, Ares barked. Guess he heard it, too.

  “However,” Johnny added in a more conversational tone as he let the puppy into the house, “if you’d like to let me take the Audi, I won’t object to that.”

  Maxine crossed her arms. She wisely did not say a word, but let her body language speak for her—although she lost some of the affect with Ares sniffing her ankles. I scolded him and he trotted off through the dining room. I was just glad he was past his growling dislike of these particular Offerlings.

  “C’mon,” I chimed in. “The Domn Lup can’t keep showing up in a rusty Chrysler LeBaron.”

  “I heard that,” Nana grouched, lifting her head from the notebook.

  Maxine said to Zhan, “You stay.” She pulled the keys from her pocket, studied them for a moment, then tossed them to Johnny. “You drive.”

  His adorable little-boy grin spread.

  After I claimed the necessary pages from the Codex copy and tucked them into the overnight bag, I asked Johnny, “When do you want to leave?”

  He checked the clock. “We have some time, but I can’t wait to do the test drive.”

  While shaking my head at his glee, I hugged Nana good-bye then rehefted the bag onto my shoulder and headed for the hallway. “Then let’s go. You can take the long way.”

  We passed the doorway to the living room. Ares was on the couch, paws on the back, tail wagging vigorously. I was about to scold him again, when the low growl in his throat made me stop. Beyond him, I saw a dark Chevy Impala in the driveway. A shadow appeared on the glass of the door, and someone knocked.

  “Let me,” Maxine said.

  “I can still answer my own door.” Without waiting for her I jerked the door open.

  Two men stood on my porch.

  One was broad-shouldered with a near-ebony complexion. His head was shaved but he had a trim goatee surrounding unsmiling lips. I was willing to bet even this guy’s baby pictures were stern. Combine his facial expression, and the methodical assessment in his dark eyes, with the serious black suit, and I knew he wasn’t here on a whim.

  The other man was pallid, and was decidedly not broad-shouldered. He had pale weasel-like eyes that remained fixed on me. Ivory’s no-nonsense suit screamed “government official” just as much as Ebony’s.

  I didn’t open the screen door. Instead, I pointed to the front window. “The building permits are posted.”

  Ebony reached into his pocket and produced a badge and an ID. “I’m Special Agent Damian Brent, this is Special Agent Clive Napier. I have some questions for you, Ms. Alcmedi, if you have a moment.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Special Agent Damian Brent pointed at my overnight bag. “Going somewhere?”

  “I was going across town for a few hours.”

  His gaze shifted to focus past me. “Do you have a permit for that gun?”

  “I do,” Maxine said.

  I’d jerked the door open and, as usual, she had her gun out. I could have at least checked before opening the door, or waited until she’d retreated out of sight.

  “Concealed carry?” Agent Brent asked.

  “Yes. May I see your identification?”

  I stepped out of the way so she could move forward. Her gun was lowered but still available as she drew closer to the screen door to make her inspection of his credentials. A moment later she said, “I’ve never heard of the S-S-T-I-X.” She spelled it out, letter by letter. “What’s it stand for?”

  “I’m not surprised you haven’t heard. SSTIX”—he pronounced it like the famed river Styx of Greek myth—“is a newer and little-known task force.”

  We all waited; he didn’t go on. “And the acronym stands for what?” Maxine pressed.

  “Specialized Squadron for Tactical Investigation of Xenocrime.”

  “Xenocrime?”

  “As in crimes committed by those members of society d
eemed … strange.”

  “Nonsters,” Clive added with a twisted smile.

  It had been only a matter of time until nonhumans had a task force devoted to their crimes. This should have been a good thing, as law enforcement officers increasingly had refused to investigate crimes involving vampires and wærewolves for years. Insurance companies and governmental agencies had lost numerous lawsuits brought by families of slain or disabled police officers whose attorneys had cited circumstances “far superior to normal risk.” Based on Agent Brent’s vibe, I was betting the federal government had found a solution … and that it might not be all good.

  Maxine removed the cell phone from her pocket. She still hadn’t holstered her weapon. “With so many freaks able to make realistic documents, you’ll of course understand if we verify your credentials before talking to you?”

  “Of course, but it’ll take you longer to make that verification than it will for Ms. Alcmedi to answer a few simple questions.”

  “The number?” Maxine insisted. She dialed as Agent Brent rattled off a series of numbers.

  I stepped forward. “What do you want?”

  “I have questions about the death of Xerxadrea Veilleux and the break-in at the Botanical Gardens.”

  A pang of loss resonated in my chest at the mention of her name. Keeping my expression blank, I said, “Xerxadrea was a friend. I mourn her loss. Someone told me the authorities thought she lost control of her broom and crashed.”

  “May we come in?”

  “Not until she verifies you.”

  He took a small notepad from his pocket and flipped it open. “The alarms went off at the Botanical Gardens at eleven-twenty-six P.M.” He tapped the notebook. “Local television stations broadcast live coverage of you from eight-twelve P.M. until eight-thirty-eight P.M. A ceremony of some kind, and you wore a red hooded cape.”

  He took a breath, so I said, “I’m not sure of the exact times, but I have to assume you’ve done your homework and that you are correct.” Nothing about my installation as Menessos’s court witch was criminal. Although I would arrest Menessos for making me wear those boots if I could.