Gregor growled. “Personal responsibility? Your words sound unsettlingly close to those that would incite a rebellion.”
“Good! You all need to rebel against that notion that has kept you afraid of witches.”
The Rege turned to his men. The expectancy on their faces was plain; they were waiting for him to guide them. Would it be “as usual,” or would he lead in a new direction? Some, like Gregor, clearly wanted to stay on the path they knew well.
The Rege spun back. “Who are you?”
I’d taunted him earlier that he didn’t know who I was. He hadn’t gotten my name then. I supposed now would do. “I’m Persephone Alcmedi.”
“You speak pretty words, Persephone. A spell in each charismatic syllable, but I cannot—”
“She’s the Lustrata,” Johnny said, interrupting before the Rege could bestow judgmental words he might have to eat later. The Zvonul’s main man did not move, but seemed frozen in place. Only his eyes moved, flicking over to Johnny as he added, “And you’ve tempted her wrath quite far enough.” The Rege again drew a breath, ready to protest, and Johnny cut him off. “She deserves respect, Rege.”
His face pinched up so tight I thought it was caving in on itself. Giving respect to a woman was blasphemy for a man afflicted with the kind of misogyny that allowed him to qualify rape as a means of punishment. And because I’m a witch—a woman with power—it flavored his bitterness with acid.
Now I understood how the rift had become so wide. Witches were predominantly female.
“You really don’t get it, do you, Rege?” Johnny spoke up. “You see her gift will make the wæres always powerful and eliminate that one full moon night of weakness. You see that it will raise us above the vamps, who lose half of every day and rely on Beholders and Offerlings for their safety. What you can’t seem to recognize is that she’s offering to let you guide the wæres, to have the credit of wise guidance, because she’s not in it for the power or glory.” Johnny moved toe-to-toe with the Rege. “You haven’t shown her any respect yet. Kidnapping her, killing a friend, trying to rape her. Think about it. The only reason you’re not half-formed right now is because she intends to fulfill her destiny.”
“She needs me,” he spat. “I won’t be a puppet to a … a witch!”
I had the distinct feeling he’d almost said woman.
Johnny shook his head. “You’re wrong. She doesn’t need you. She has me, the Domn Lup. But the influence of your long years as Rege would make this easier for everyone.”
Silently, Gregor positioned himself just to the side. It was clear he was showing the Rege he backed him up. So I took up the opposite side. Kirk moved in a step behind me.
Johnny went on. “Only with her willing aid can we be lifted above our animal minds. Placed equal to witches in that we have no time of weakness.”
“Why would she lift us equal to her own kind?” the Rege demanded.
“To bring balance,” I said.
All three of them looked at me. The Rege’s attention bounced from me to Johnny and he studied Johnny for a long moment. Without another word, he turned and walked to the limo and got in. His men followed him.
I hope he recognized that he had a hell of a lot to think about.
When the limo drove away, the pack sighed collectively in relief.
Chris strolled up to me. “Lustrata, huh?”
It still felt awkward to just openly claim it, but after a deep breath I nodded. “Yeah.”
“I’ve heard the rumors … now I understand why you never backed down. Ever.”
It was almost eight o’clock when I got home. We’d been delayed when Johnny used his cell phone to let Nana know they had me back safe. As he spoke to her, I remembered the Omori had taken the necklace with Beau’s charm, the protrepticus, my satellite phone, and my purse in the kidnapping. We had to make a stop at the den to collect them. Kirk and Todd dealt with the awkward situation while we waited in the parking area.
“How’d you make the Rege think he’d … hurt … you, when he hadn’t?”
The word he couldn’t bring himself to say was “rape.” “That’s a question for Menessos. It was almost like I mesmerized him. I told him he was finished, to leave. In his mind, I guess, ‘finished’ meant ‘mission accomplished.’” I paused, rubbing at my goose egg.
“I should take you to the ER.”
“I’m fine. Ever figure out how they got past your security to the second floor?” I asked.
“They flashed their official IDs at the guards. While the doc was stitching me up the other day, I gave the order to make sure we were complying with whatever the Rege’s people needed. The guards thought they were adhering to my order. Now they know better: no one is allowed entrance without checking with me first, not even the Zvonul. The Rege and the Omori may think compliance means they run the den, but not this den.”
Todd and Kirk returned. My stuff was no worse for wear.
The bad news was that Johnny, Todd, and Kirk had decided they needed a private meeting, at Todd’s house, to discuss among themselves their bylaws, options, and what could be done about the Rege. Todd made it clear he didn’t want their conversation to occur at my home.
I suggested they give Beau a call and ask him about pack lore. Beau may be a Bindspoken witch, but he had the trust of the former dirija and he knew an awful lot about everything. He’d told me he’d had cause to do “an enormous amount” of research. That was how he had been able to recognize me as the Lustrata, and how he’d been able to manipulate me into helping him. He’d made me promise to come and see him before the next full moon, which was still three weeks away.
Johnny drove me home, but before we got out of the Audi, I asked him to tell Beau that I’d stop by and see him soon.
“Have I got competition?” he asked, affecting innocence and shock.
“Of course not.” I leaned to kiss him.
His lips were gentle against mine. “Sure you don’t want to go to the ER and get checked out?”
“It’s nothing ibuprofen and an ice pack won’t fix.”
He touched my cheek again, tenderly. “You’re going to have a shiner.”
“I think our combat training needs to start again.”
“Deal.”
I moved to get out, but he stopped me with a touch.
“I could have lost you today.”
The fear in his tone made me instinctively want to lighten his load. Sarcasm was in order. “Sucks, huh?”
“Yeah.” One side of his mouth crooked up, adorably. I rubbed his cleft chin and pulled him to me for another kiss, this one lasting long enough to run my fingers through his hair, forceful enough to notice the evening stubble on his chin, and sensual enough to set my heart pounding.
When we broke, we lingered with our foreheads together. As he sat back, so solemn, so serious, his mouth opened, closed, opened again. “Red, I …” His grip on my hand tightened, but he didn’t finish.
I had a distinct feeling that the “L” word was about to follow. No. No. No. No. No. I gulped, audibly, and tried to be cheerful as I asked, “What?”
The weightiness lifted from him and he shook his head. “Another time.”
Todd and Kirk turned into the driveway behind us in a Chevy Tahoe. Johnny flashed me an enigmatic smile and passed me the keys before he climbed out to go and ride with them.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Just inside my front door I was trapped in a bear hug from Nana that I didn’t think was ever going to end. Zhan was in the living room, and came to her feet. “Welcome home, my lady.”
I saw Beverley sneak to the top of the stairs in her pajamas, and I called out to her. Nana released me and Beverley rushed down the steps, throwing herself at me before she’d reached the bottom. With her arms and legs wrapped around me, she buried her face in my neck. “I was so scared,” she whispered.
“Me, too.” I wondered what she’d been told and what she’d overheard while in stealth mode.
Nana
gave me a nod that indicated I should take Beverley back to bed. Easy for her to say; she hadn’t gone two rounds with the Rege.
Atop the stairs, winded, I said, “You sure are growing, kiddo. In a month or two I won’t be able to carry you up here.”
She didn’t answer. Instead she sniffled into my hair.
I carried her into her room and lay her in her bed. After rearranging the covers and tucking beside her the teddy bear that wore one of her mother’s sweatshirts, I sat and smoothed her dark hair back.
“I’m trying, Seph. Trying to do what you said, to accept the good and the bad. But this was really bad. Everyone was so scared.”
Several statements crossed my mind. I settled on, “When I said it wouldn’t be easy, I didn’t anticipate days like this.” I gripped her hands. “They knocked me unconscious, but when I woke up, the first thing I thought of was you and I fought with everything I had. I fought to get back home to you.”
She noticed my cheek. “Looks like it hurt.”
“It did. But Johnny took care of it.” I shifted to something more reassuring. “Did you get to see the unicorns this evening?”
A sneaky grin appeared. “Errol let me put ribbons in his mane and tail.”
“Did he?”
She told me about Mountain letting her ride outside the barn, and that the young colt had been very careful with her and didn’t go too fast. On that happy note, though I was exhausted, I asked if it would help her sleep if I read her a story.
“No. I’ll sleep now that you’re home.” She sat up and hugged me, pausing to study my bruised cheek. “You need an ice pack,” she declared as she lay back down, arm encircling her bear.
I leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Love you, kiddo.”
“I love you, too.”
* * *
Nana told me Mountain had said only some odds and ends remained to do at the barns. Her room’s roof was finished and the interior was nearly ready for paint. She also informed me he’d called Geoff because Thunderbird was still asleep. They decided that since the griffon was breathing deep and his pulse was strong, that was okay. Geoff promised he’d come out tomorrow after work. I knew Nana was running on nervous adrenaline because only after telling me all that did she offer to feed me.
She dropped some bread in the toaster and started making scrambled eggs. While she cooked with shaky hands, she updated me on some of the decor choices she’d made for the room addition. Evidently Mountain had presented her with paint swatches and her choice of bath and lighting fixtures.
Presenting me the egg sandwich, she said, “That cheek of yours. Everybody’s taking a whack at it this week.”
I snorted. Vilna had slapped it, too.
“You want some ice?”
“Just ibuprofen.”
She got up and retrieved the medicine for me. Nana then listened to the abridged version of my story, after which I headed to my room where I peeled off my jeans, pulled my arms through my T-shirt’s sleeves, and performed a feat of female dexterity that allowed my bra to drop to the floor as my arms were jammed back into my sleeves.
I crawled into bed and tugged the covers up around my ears. Sleep had almost claimed me when the satellite phone rang.
I groaned and answered.
“And how did the world fare under the sun today, dear Persephone?”
Menessos was calling to chitchat? Not likely. “Dandy,” I lied. I didn’t want to tell the tale of the day again. “And yours?”
“I’m feeling rather low.” His pouting tone transformed accusingly. “As if I’m missing the life essence of one of my twice-marked Offerlings.”
Maxine. Anguished, I repeated all their names to myself. Aquula, Xerxadrea, Ig, Ross, Robert, Brian. Countless fairies and elementals. All dead. Now Maxine. In an instant, I recalled everything she’d told me about her life and her mother. No fading.
The growing list of those who’d died as I climbed toward the Lustrata’s destiny hurt my heart. I must not fail.
“Maxine is dead,” I whispered. “I’m sorry.”
“Did you kill her?”
I sat up quickly. “No!”
“Then what are you sorry for?”
“For your loss. But it doesn’t sound as if you’re worried about her, just the decline in your life essence.”
“It is something to worry about.”
“How? What does the damn life essence do for you anyway?”
“I meant to concede that the loss of her is something to worry about.”
“Oh.”
“How did she die?”
“Protecting me.”
“Are you all right? What happened?”
“I’m fine.” I didn’t want to demean her death. I also didn’t want to implicate any wærewolves. I did want to flop back on the pillows, but even the softest pillow would put pressure on the goose egg I was still sporting. Instead, I reclined slowly, twisting to the side and letting my weary eyes shut again. “I really don’t want to go through it all again. Can it suffice for now to say she died doing her duty?”
“Yes. If that is your wish, Persephone …”
As if the Sandman had cast his dream dust over me while I was yet awake, the vampire’s voice stirred imagery into the darkness. A warm summer sun shone in a cloudless sky. The bed under me became a blanket upon the ground in a field of wildflowers. He whispered my name again and I could feel his fingertips gliding up my arm like champagne bubbles up the side of a glass.
“I need to see you. Tonight.”
The image fluttered, losing vibrancy as I almost sassed, “Can’t Eva satisfy you?” but I held my tongue. After a moment the scene was restored. Still, I didn’t answer him. I wanted nothing else to happen today. Except dreamless, restful sleep, that is.
Menessos pressed, “To compensate, my master.”
Damn it. “Then you have to come to me,” I grumped.
“As you wish.”
He wasn’t deterred by my demand, but the way he worded it made me feel like I should explain this wasn’t a command from his master. “I’ve had a full day. You just got up.”
“Indeed,” he whispered low and breathy. “I just did.”
* * *
Hours later, I awoke to the ward alarming in my head. The clock read eleven-eleven.
The house was silent around me. I left the mental alarm alone, though it aggravated my still-achy head, and rose from my bed. I was expecting Menessos to show up, but he didn’t trip my wards. He carried my hex, and it granted him an all-access pass.
Tiptoeing across the room and jerking my robe on, I opened the door slowly and silently. The house was dark and—if things were normal—Nana and Beverley were in their rooms asleep. From Beverley’s room I heard Ares emit a low growl.
I tiptoed to her door. “Easy, boy,” I whispered.
He growled again.
I opened the door a crack. “Ares! Shhh.”
The dog lay down in his crate, wagged his tail twice.
I shut her door and proceeded down my stairs, weaving the odd path I knew would keep squeaking boards from announcing me. Midway down, I could see into the living room. Nana had left candles burning. Or Zhan is setting a mood.
I remembered how Mountain had reacted when he looked at her. I considered returning to my room, but Mountain wouldn’t set off the wards either.
A few more steps, and Menessos came into view. Well, his unmistakable backside did, anyway. He was admiring the Waterhouse painting he’d given me. He wore his usual flattering trousers and a businesslike white-on-white striped shirt. His jacket was draped over the arm of the couch.
I lingered there on the staircase. He stood in the room that, once upon a time when I lived here alone, had been my sanctuary. It held my Pre-Raphaelite posters and my bookshelves full of everything on the king of Camelot. Lit by wick flames, the room held an ambiance redolent of ages past. And, moreover, he simply fit. Admittedly, I was projecting what I knew of him into the mix, but one thing I wasn’t
embellishing: despite his modern clothes, there was a majestic quality to his posture and aura. He was innately regal and no one in his presence could deny it.
Especially me.
My mind flashed on the moment before I staked him, before I kissed him, on the moment when I knew the sacrifice he was about to make and saw not the meddling vampire, but the Arthur I dreamed of so often.
I remembered how in the memory we now shared, Menessos was alive, his skin sun-kissed, shoulders thick from hard labor. His hair curled to his shoulders now, but then, in the memory, it was much longer—the kind of hair a woman could run her fingers through just before she passionately raked her nails across his back… .
Surely this adoration is a side effect created by the bonds. All masters must struggle with this.
No need for surprising an intruder now; I released the ward alarm. Menessos strode toward me.
“You tripped the wards on purpose?” I asked quietly.
“Would you prefer I enter your bedroom and wake you personally?”
“No. Where’s Zhan?”
“I sent her to get a report from Mountain. I told her to take her time.”
He gave me his hand over the rail as I took the last few stairs. It was ceremonious and unnecessary, but as soon as he touched me, the power of the hex awakened and again lit my spine like a fuse. My mouth opened to protest, but when my feet hit the floor I found myself eye-to-eye with him, witnessing the mixed need and danger in the blackness of his pupils, swirling like a thing alive. And I didn’t really want to scold him. He gave his life for victory.
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