Arcane Circle

by Linda Robertson

  Eva stood and accepted it. “Shall I feed her, my lord? Shall I tease her with it for your pleasure?” The twisted corner of her mouth said she would enjoy it, too.

  “Eat it,” Menessos said.

  Her crooked smile broke. “I am allergic to straw-berries.”

  “Eat it,” he said again.

  “B-but …”

  “An allergic reaction is a small price to pay for your disobedience.” He leaned forward. “Eat. It.”

  Eva threw the strawberry to the ground and stomped it with her foot. “I will not!”

  Menessos flew from his throne amid gasps from the audience. In a flash he had her by the nape of the neck. He held her head back, throat exposed. She clawed at him, trying to maintain her balance on needle-thin stilettos. Her hands found purchase in the layers of his suit.

  “You defy me a second time,” he snarled, “before all these people!”

  She swallowed, her throat working hard at that angle.

  “You are not allergic.”

  “I—I am.”

  He threw her to the floor and her cheek smacked the flooring with a thud. Most of the audience flinched. As did I.

  My thoughts ran to the Rege, and how he treated women. I’d been ready to come to Cammi’s aid when Gregor hit her, and I had reason to hate Cammi. While Eva wasn’t on my list of favorite people either, I couldn’t sit here and watch Menessos beat a woman. And yet my feet did not move. My outraged tongue did not cry out.

  Menessos was not a male chauvinist like the leadership of the Romanian wæres so blatantly was. He was a master and he was within his rights to punish someone who, as he had made clear, defied him twice. And I knew in my heart that he would have reacted similarly, had the offender been male or female. The Rege could not say the same.

  Menessos motioned Risqué nearer. By the time she had moved close, Eva had recovered enough to rise to her knees.

  His fist closed in her hair and he jerked her head back again, forcing her to look up at him. From my position, slightly higher atop the dais, I saw that whatever brand of lipstick she wore would, after brute contact with a floor, smudge. Ugly darkness smeared onto her cheek, marring her exquisite beauty like dirt on an angel’s face.

  “Open your mouth,” he said.

  She clamped her mouth shut and no longer looked dazed.

  Menessos gripped her jaw so tightly that his fingers pressed her cheeks in. She tried to keep her mouth closed, but couldn’t. A single sob wracked her lean frame.

  Releasing his grip on her hair, Menessos reached across his chest to select a beautiful strawberry from the tray and held it over Eva’s mouth.

  Her arms flailed. Her nails clawed at his wrist. She wrenched herself away, crying out, “It’s poison!”

  My stomach flipped and flopped.

  I’d almost eaten it!

  The master vampire’s demeanor had remained calm throughout the gruesome display, but just then as he set the strawberry back on the tray, he was positively icy. “Are you allergic?” he asked, as he reclaimed his grip on her hair.

  “No. No, master.”

  “You lied to me,” he spat the words on her. “You tried to murder my Erus Veneficus!”

  “It is the way of my former master’s court.”

  “Defiance was the way of Heldridge?”

  “No. Survival of the fittest, of the most cunning.”

  “You were told it is not the way of this court!”

  “Mercy, master!”

  She had nowhere to go. No one to protect her. And she knew it.

  With his one fist still wrapped in her hair, Menessos’s other hand shot down with enough force that as he grabbed her by the lowest part of her rib cage, his fingers stabbed through her dress and into her flesh. She screamed as he jerked her up, lifting her as if she weighed no more than a rag doll, and brought her bared throat to his mouth.

  Her voice filled the renovated theater … until his fangs pierced her. Until his jaws clamped onto her throat and he shoved her away from him even as he tore a wide gash in her flesh. Blood squirted and gushed.

  His bloody fingers slid free from her rib cage as Eva’s fingers clutched at her neck. Menessos snatched a strawberry from the tray and shoved it deftly between Eva’s fingers and into her opened throat, then took his hand from her hair. She fell back onto the stage floor, thrashing and kicking for long seconds.

  Above us all, the scream echoed, and finally, like its maker, died.

  “Destroy those,” Menessos commanded, gesturing at the tray Risqué held.

  She hurried in her ruffled short-shorts to obey.

  I just witnessed a murder. My heart thudded in my chest, my ears buzzed, and I felt cold to my core. My spine was wrapped in a thick weaving of anxiety, fear, and repulsion. But underneath my sternum was heat. Not lust heat. This was like the sharpest edge of a blade heated in forge-fire. It sliced through me and its blazing edge severed me from the naïveté that once would have denied that such things happened even in a vampire’s haven. But I could not deny it now. In the wake of that severing was a residue of cinnamon.

  “This is my house,” Menessos bellowed to the stunned audience. “My rewards for loyalty are grand, but I tolerate no threats. I permit no defiance! I allow no harm to be doled out among you, one to the other. I will give you death if you defy me! My punishment is swift. Do you hear me, members of this haven?”

  “Aye,” answered those who were already claimed as his.

  “Do you hear me, initiates?”

  “Aye.”

  “Then come forth and receive your master’s embrace, accept my mark, and become mine.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Once upon a time, I’d killed a man. It was an accident. He was a low-life druggie who was stalking Beverley’s mom and when I’d intercepted him he threatened me with a knife. In the struggle, we fell. He landed on the blade.

  Those seconds as he died were seared into my memory.

  It was my dark secret, a shame I would always carry.

  In seeing Eva’s body and the pool of her blood, in peering out at the crowd, in having heard the words Menessos just uttered, and in knowing that Eva had meant to kill me, I knew for certain this was a murder no one would ever know about except those who’d witnessed it. And all those in attendance, save Johnny and me, belonged to the vampire who’d perpetrated the killing.

  It was haven justice. An eye for an eye. Heldridge may have ruled his haven by keeping his people fearful of him and each other, but those were his rules. No master could allow insubordination.

  The initiates would have to walk past Eva’s body and blood to reach Menessos. The corpse was left to remind them what was expected of them, and the consequences of disobedience.

  The Beholders were first. He bit them as a show of laying claim to them. Then, as when he had marked me, he opened his wrist. What was different, however, was he comingled his blood with their own and asked each one, “Do you accept me as your lord, your defender, to whom you will provide all your loyalty?”

  When they affirmed they would, he drew an ankh on their bared chests. As the mark claimed them, their knees gave out. They writhed. Heldridge’s claim was being ripped from their souls and replaced by that of Menessos.

  When he’d marked me, it felt like his bloody mark called up pieces of my soul to be bound by his blood. Those pieces then took the essence of him and sank inside me to hide in intangible places.

  To reclaim all the seventy-two male Beholders took over an hour.

  Next were the Offerlings, six women and one man, who received two marks each. They were a gorgeous group and though they lacked the brutishness of the Beholders, they still gave every appearance of being dangerous.

  Or maybe that’s just my reaction to them as Heldridge’s people after nearly being poisoned by one of them.

  The Offerlings were rendered unconscious by the pain of being given a pair of marks to cancel out the previous binding to their master. They were removed by Mene
ssos’s established Beholders, and Menessos called for the initiate vampires to come forward.

  Fifteen vampires walked single file up the ramp and formed a line before the dais. I recognized one of them by the golden brown curls that hung past his shoulders. His name was Sever. He’d been with Heldridge at the Eximium. Apparently, he always gave the impression of being a delighted frat boy who’d just strolled unseen into the ladies’ locker room.

  “I charge you all with the tasks of managing your fellow initiates and monitoring your Offerlings and Beholders; report to me that I may anticipate their needs and meet them in order to maintain the peace and balance of my haven. From this day forward, one of you will speak for all of them.” He glanced down the line of them. “Sever. I appoint this task to you.”

  Sever bowed his head. “As you wish, my master.” He bared his neck and made the vow, “I offer you my allegiance, my loyalty, and my undeath. Henceforth, I am yours. Your vampire. Your soldier. Your servant.”

  Menessos drank of him. “Henceforth, I am your lord, your commander, your master. For your allegiance and loyalty, I will protect you.” He offered Sever his wrist, and Sever drank. Menessos moved to the next in line.

  When all of this was complete, the tables were cleared, and the music blared. Jaded Jason had been hired once more to DJ the party, or perhaps he was a nonhaven servant like the Incomparable Deliveries guy.

  As the dancing commenced, Eva’s corpse remained as Menessos had left it.

  “Come with me,” Menessos said as he rose. Johnny and I followed him off the stage and accompanied him to his private rooms.

  His chambers were as I remembered them, from the round stone altar table that sat opposite the entry door, neatly arranged with candles, a bell, his athame, and various other ritual items; to the stacked stone walls and leather seating in-the-round with two plush, armed seats across from each other and two armless semicircular couches. On the back wall, between two white marble pillars, the wooden door with iron studs was shut.

  “Please make yourselves comfortable.” He gestured with his bloody hand. “Allow me a moment to wash.” He passed through his iron-studded door without waiting to see if we complied.

  Johnny removed his suit coat and loosened his tie before sinking beside me on the couch. “You okay?” he asked.

  I nodded. “I may never eat strawberries again, but I’m fine.”

  His arm snaked across my shoulders and he pulled me close. I laid my head against him until, minutes later, Menessos returned. He’d not only washed up, he’d changed into fresh trousers and a clean shirt.

  “First, allow me to thank the two of you for coming tonight.” He carried two goblets, a bottle of wine, and a corkscrew. The last two he passed to Johnny, who set about opening the bottle. “Because I am well aware of how Heldridge ran his haven, I knew Eva would make an attempt on your life—”

  “You knew?” I demanded.

  “I wanted to get it out of the way, as this would make the best example for the others.” Still holding the goblets, Menessos lowered himself onto one of the plush, armed seats. “When you were not sure if you could join me, I worried that she might find some way to make her strike beyond my haven’s walls.”

  “You knew,” I repeated.

  “Of course I knew. Why else would I object to chocolate?”

  “You said—”

  “I lied.” He reached for my hand and I gave it to him. He squeezed. “She tried to endear herself to me over these last few nights. She took the chance that I would allow it and not punish her.” He shrugged. “She lost.”

  I felt better knowing my safety was never truly at risk, and worse knowing the murder had therefore been premeditated. The whole time he was with her, he knew it would end this way.

  I detected a fine trembling in his fingers, squeezed reassuringly.

  In that instant, I felt his thoughts swirling, so fast and not all of them in English. In signum amoris. He’d played a part in it, and now I knew he owned a piece of that binding. What I did catch was the notion that he wanted me there when he made claim to Heldridge’s people because he had never marked anyone as a fully undead vampire. He wasn’t certain if he’d be deeply drained by so much activity. He’d wanted me nearby to empower him if necessary.

  He pulled his hand from my grasp.

  Johnny had the bottle open and Menessos provided him with a goblet. Johnny poured and gave the half-full glass of wine to me. I hesitated.

  “Drink it,” Menessos said, offering the other goblet to Johnny. “You’re pale.”

  I drank. It was tart and warmed my tongue.

  Menessos stood and paced before us. “On to the other business. It has come to my attention that we have been misled.”

  “How so?” Johnny asked. He filled his goblet and set the bottle on the floor.

  “Heldridge is very clever. The performer he hired refused to admit any guilt. He claimed to have no idea what he had done. On the surface it all appeared very tidy: a crazed man claims memory loss. We suspected he’d been hypnotized and commanded to attack.”

  “And?” I prompted.

  “I had assumed the blade, a steel throwing dagger, had been ensorcelled in some manner to strike me down. I had the man at Wolfsbane and Absinthe examine it.”

  “Beau,” I clarified.

  “Yes.”

  “But he’s been Bindspoken—”

  “And he had no reaction to it. There was no sorcery or witchcraft placed upon that blade.”

  Beau had felt pain at shaking my hand. Being Bindspoken meant forever avoiding contact with magical things. Him keeping Wolfsbane and Absinthe, a witch supply shop, was more of a statement to WEC than I had realized at first. I now understood why he’d put together the items for the sorsanimus spell so hurriedly, and why he had a mundane human working for him. Someone had to touch the goods he sold.

  Johnny set his goblet by the bottle. “You’re saying you weren’t the target at the ceremony.”

  My thoughts on Beau, I hadn’t caught that.

  Menessos said, “Correct.”

  “Me?” I asked. Heldridge had been after me? “To hurt you?”

  Menessos stopped pacing. It was clear he was weighing his words, and I knew this was going to be bad. I took a quick gulp of the wine.

  “I told you he knew what the fairies wanted him to know. I assumed they had told him that I was alive.”

  My mind was racing. “For him to strike at me would weaken you, then the fairies could take action?”

  “That was my first thought as well. And one in our favor as now that I am undead, he would look a fool.” He again took to pacing.

  I’d never seen him this edgy. I had seen him angry and prepared to kill, but then I’d never actually seen him take a life before.

  I stood and went to him. Gripping his arm, I turned him to face me and searched his eyes. My hands slipped down to take his.

  “The fairies knew something else.”

  “What?” Johnny asked.

  Menessos did not answer.

  “That I’m the master.” My voice was hollow. My stomach churned with ice.

  Menessos gauged my reaction for a long moment. “I kept thinking he was a fool to flee to VEIN. I felt it must be a ploy of some kind. But if he knows that, he has good reason as it may be enough to save his existence. If he reveals to the Lord Executives of VEIN that their northeastern Quarter Lord has been hexed by a witch and is under her sway … I will be the next vampire with a VEIN bounty on his head. And you, my lovely Lustrata, won’t be left out.”

  Johnny came to his feet. “What do we do?”

  “Goliath is unequaled at what he does. When he finds Heldridge, he will kill him.”

  Johnny stood. “What if Heldridge makes it to these Lord Executives?”

  “All manner of unpleasantness shall ensue.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  At eleven-twenty A.M. on Saturday, Zhan was pinning my hair tightly against my head. “Sorry I didn’t ask
Menessos about letting you go home.”

  “My request wasn’t the dominant thing on my mind last night either.”

  Zhan slipped the last bobby pin into place and declared me ready for step two of my disguise. I tugged the blond wig on.

  One look in the mirror proved that everyone would recognize the cheap flesh-colored cap that formed the base of the wig. No one would ever be deceived by this disguise. “This is going to be a problem.”

  “Give me one minute,” Zhan said. She left the bathroom, hurried down the stairs. She came back with a black knit hat that had a skull with wings silkscreened on it in white. I recognized it as matching a shirt Johnny had recently bought; he’d left the hat on one of the coat hooks at the back door. Zhan put it on me. “No fake roots.”

  I had on a nice blouse under one of Nana’s sweater cardigans, dress pants, and loafers. When Johnny had seen my attire—before rushing off to a band rehearsal and strategizing session—he’d proclaimed me frumpy and said he’d be worried about me if he didn’t know I was trying not to be recognized by the witch-hating-parent-patrol.

  The knit hat was totally wrong for the look I was trying to achieve. “I’m trying to be the socially acceptable niece today.”

  Zhan thought about it. “Unless you have a flowered chapeau, you’ll have to change your role. Come with me.” I followed her across the hall. She sorted through my closet. “Wear this and your flannel.” She held up a thick pullover hooded sweatshirt with a pocket in front. “Add jeans and your hikers and you’ll be more comfortable. Instead of being the snooty blond niece—which is conspicuous and more likely to get you busted anyway—you can be the farm-girl unicorn trainer. Mountain won’t mind.”

  “What if Errol minds?” All the animals knew Mountain better than me.

  “Mountain will still be there, as backup.”

  Her idea was good enough that I probably wouldn’t have argued, but I didn’t get a chance anyway. Nana shouted up the stairs to announce that the ponies had arrived.

  Beverley burst from her room. “Ponies?”

  The six rented half-size equines were unloaded from their trailer, saddled, and ready to go.