“Keep your eyes in your head, fur-face,” Zhan snapped.
Kirk sneered. “Blood whore.”
In an instant, Zhan had released Eris and pressed the business end of her pistol against Kirk’s temple. “Mind your mouth, dog, or I’ll muzzle you permanently.”
Kirk held his hands up as if he were surrendering. He said nothing, but his expression was a billboard proclaiming his approval.
I opened the door and discovered a metal staircase leading up to a small landing. An older blue Corvette was parked under it; the Tahoe the other wæres had driven was beside it.
Eris took a set of keys from a peg by the door and followed me up the stairs, then unlocked it and led us inside. “Welcome to my home, Persephone. If I’d known you were going to drop by and bring friends, I’d have picked up.”
The dining area was right in front of us, the living room to the left. A pair of faux-distressed leather couches had an Aztec print area rug between them. One had a southwestern blanket crumpled at the far end, pillows with Aztec designs graced the other. A Pittsburgh Penguins jersey was draped on the back of one sofa. There was a TV on a table against the wall, DVD player underneath stacked with movies. I saw The Fast and the Furious and Tokyo Drift.
I took in the pizza boxes and empty two-liters perched on the corner of the glass-top dining table. A Steelers’ hoodie was draped over the arm of one chair.
Beyond the table was an opening to a hall. The bathroom opened off it and, since the hall stretched in both directions, I assumed there were bedrooms, too. To my right was a doorway to the kitchen, where a cereal box sat out, a cabinet door hung open, and two granola bar wrappers lay on the counter beside a half-empty glass of milk. The uncovered garbage can was overflowing.
Seeing that she lived in a normal apartment with normal house items made her seem like a normal person, not the mean, cruel woman I had imagined her to be.
“It isn’t grand, but it’s paid for,” she said proudly. “Magic stuff’s this way.” She led us through the kitchen to a black door in the back. Zhan inspected the bedrooms while I followed Eris. She took hold of the doorknob. “I call this the woogie room.”
“Woogie? You got Chewbacca in there?” I asked.
“Woogie. Not wookiee.” She frowned. “Nana doesn’t like space movies, does she?”
“No.”
“Don’t give up on her, Persephone, she apparently doesn’t hate wæres anymore. If that can change, anything can change.”
“She’s trying to quit smoking, too.”
“No way!”
Eris was trying to be chummy, as if we were merely catching up after a few weeks of absence. It irritated me and I let her see the proof.
She opened the black door and hit the light switch. The inside was lined with shelves and the kind of do-it-yourself cabinetry that usually left folks wondering if the instructions lost something important in the translation. “Supposed to be a pantry,” she said. “But we don’t eat that much so everything stores in the kitchen.”
“We?” I asked.
She spun around, cheeks flushing. “Don’t worry, he’s at work.”
Of course she had a man living here. “When will he be back?”
Her fists shoved into her pockets. “He’s a trucker. He’ll be gone until midweek.”
I held the list out to her. “Get your supplies.”
As Eris moved about the room, opening the plywood cabinets, I took note of how organized she was. She collected the candles first, grouped them in a Baggie, then gathered the various stones.
Zhan drew my attention as she stepped up behind me and whispered, “All clear.” I nodded and Zhan took a seat at the table facing the door.
When I turned back, my mother was holding a blade, unsheathed.
She wasn’t threatening me with it, merely inspecting the naked blade. It was tarnished; real silver. She put it back and brought out another, checked it. Gleaming stainless steel with a black handle. Nodding to herself, she placed it with the other items.
In that moment I realized that if she’d meant me harm, she had weapons in this room to do so. If she’d meant Johnny harm she could have used the silver blade in the ritual.
I wondered what I would have done if deep desperation claimed me and left me with one chance to make a new life for myself … and all I had to do was ruin the life of one other person.
I’d staked Menessos in desperation. It didn’t just ruin his life, it robbed him of it. The whole thing had been his idea. He had willingly submitted to it. Still, I’d felt plenty guilty over it.
And here was the one chance for my mother to absolve herself of her guilt. As an extra bonus, in doing so, she could prove her good intentions and try to gain a place in my life.
We were different enough that the places where we drew the line and declared our limits were miles apart … but we were alike in other ways. In her place, wouldn’t I do everything I could to fix this mess?
I thought of Amenemhab. Sometimes only forgiveness will do.
I swallowed. Maybe.
Where to begin. Baby step. “Can I help?” I asked.
Her surprise was evident, but it changed into a warm smile meant for me, the one that as a child I’d tried so hard to earn. “I’d like that.” She pointed to a box. “You can put this stuff in there.”
I began filling the box.
She brought out the herbs. Some were already ground and some were in bulk form. She hefted a marble mortar and pestle to the table and ground the cinnamon and rosemary together. “Are you going to do this in one of the tattoo rooms?”
“I’d rather do it up here. I have an old massage therapist’s table. We can move the furniture out of the way and have more room, and ensured privacy. Some of the artists have keys to the shop.”
Once she was satisfied with the herb blend, she drew an equal-armed cross in the air over it, murmuring. Next, she dumped the mixture into a snack-size plastic bag and labeled it before passing it to me. She wiped out the mortar and combined the eucalyptus and myrrh next. I labeled the next Baggie while she worked.
“I often wondered if Nana taught you magic like she taught me,” she said, her voice a little thick. “When I saw you on the news I knew she had. I am so proud of you.” She seemed quite calm, immersed in the grinding of herbs.
“Most mothers wouldn’t be.”
“Well, we both know I’m not like most.” Those syllables were laced with guilt. “But an Erus Veneficus … vampires don’t want a lightweight. You have to be powerful to gain their consideration, and a Quarter Lord is even more demanding. It’s no light honor.”
“WEC considers it selling out.”
“Of course they do.” She repeated the gesture, murmuring over the mortar’s contents, then emptied them into the plastic pouch I’d prepared, and took up the cloth to wipe it out for the next batch. “They have to stigmatize it. They’re losing their best and brightest to a more glamorous world.”
My heart was warming. What child doesn’t want to hear that her parent thinks she’s among the best and brightest?
After sealing and labeling the third Baggie, I said, “WEC is trying to update the image of the covens. Giving favor to the telegenic priestesses with marketing skills, appointing approved witches to the position of ‘spokeswoman’ in places of high media coverage.”
“Doesn’t surprise me at all.” She was now pulverizing dried basil leaves and allspice.
“Do you belong to a coven?”
“No. Not in a long, long time. I prefer being a solitary.”
Another thing in the “alike” column.
I thought back to the night the slate had given me the name Arcanum. It could have simply given me the name, but instead it gave me a reading, one that I now saw was an explanation. Nana had defined the problem: Someone wanted what was best for them and all my plans had to change. True. She left me and my childhood was nothing like normal. Factors: Poor judgment and chance encounters. True again, according to her accoun
t of the events. Advice: Think twice before taking action and masculine forces. Okay. I’m trying. Result: My take on it was “a spiritual, emotional, or material need.” Nana’s version was to “seek good advice.” I’ve talked to Amenemhab, but I don’t know if I can forgive her. She still hasn’t said she’s sorry or asked me to forgive her. All I can do is give her the chance to absolve herself.
By the time we had all the items gathered and moved into the living room, Zhan conveyed utter boredom.
“I’m going to get that table,” Eris said, stepping out of sight.
Zhan gave me a single nod to indicate that was okay. “No way out back there.”
I retrieved the satellite phone out of the inner pocket of my borrowed jacket, hit the speed dial I’d assigned Johnny, and asked him to double-check the front door lock, turn out the lights in the shop, and join us upstairs. In moments Eris returned as Lance and the wæres clamored up the metal stairs and came in. Johnny entered last, trailing Nana. I gave him a grateful nod; he knew she wasn’t as steady on the stairs anymore.
After sharing the room-rearranging plan, the wæres moved everything in minutes. “You should go home,” I said to the artist.
Lance shook his head. “I’m not leaving. Without her, AIE would fall apart.”
“Then sit over there.” Johnny pointed to the far corner of the couch. “Be silent and stay out of the way.” The couches were now both tucked against the wall with the short side of the rustic coffee table separating them.
Eris moved the area rug to be centered in the open space, then placed her folded massage table and set it up. “The other wæres will have to leave soon,” she said.
Johnny gave Todd and Kirk the go ahead. Kirk clasped Johnny’s forearm. He said, “As agreed,” then asked Zhan, “I didn’t get a good view of your pistol. You packin’ a ladies’ .28, or was that a .38 you put to my head?”
“It’s a .44.”
“Oooo. That really kicks.”
“Three hundred and ten foot-pounds of energy.”
He regarded her appreciatively, then pointed at Johnny. “You know your stuff, China Girl. It’d be a shame to kill you, but if anything happens to him … you won’t see me when I come for you.”
“The Domn Lup’s not my charge.”
“Consider it a mandate. I carried your master to dark safety twice in one morning. You owe me this.”
“Tell me, Wolfman Wang, are you saying you’re a team player?”
Kirk glanced in my direction, then back to Zhan. “If my Domn Lup wishes, it is so. Can you say the same?”
“I can,” she said with conviction.
Kirk gave Zhan a wink and exited.
Johnny and I shared a look that was multifaceted in its understanding. We’d both been shown the loyalty of our people. They’d confirmed that they could extend that allegiance to others; no light commitment considering how the various “nonsters” disliked and distrusted each other. Knowing their trust in us could bridge that rift felt good, if terribly heavy. Good, because there was unending hope in that. And terribly heavy because too many good people had already died.
Watching Zhan, I repeated a silent prayer to Hecate that such loyalty wasn’t rewarded with death.
My somber moment was shattered as Eris said cheerfully, “All right. Let’s get this party started.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Nana sat on the couch that Lance wasn’t sitting on. I joined her. Zhan moved a dining room chair to the front door.
Eris patted the table top. “Off with your shirt and lie down.”
Johnny pulled the black long-sleeved tee over his head and dropped it aside. My appreciation had to show. Johnny had ripples and bulges of muscle in all the places that screamed of strength and sex appeal. For all the beauty in the art that graced his skin—and I took a moment to acknowledge the artistic talent my mother possessed—these lines and curves and colors also condemned his flesh to the magic bound within.
We were here to liberate him from that sentence.
Eris whistled approval. “You sure grew into those,” she said. “I hoped you wouldn’t grow up to be a scrawny fella.” She moved close to him, inspecting her work.
I bristled, but bit my tongue lest I say something stupid.
“Turn around.”
Johnny revealed his back.
“Lord and Lady,” Nana breathed. The red foo dog and black dragon tattoos were as intricate as any I’d ever seen.
Eris’s finger traced the curved spine of the black dragon. “The colors have remained bright. Good. Good.”
My jaw clenched. If I didn’t grind my teeth together I would have shouted for her to keep her hands off my boyfriend. That would have been stupid. She had to touch him to undo this. It was just that she seemed to be appraising him with a regard that wasn’t entirely professional.
“On the table,” she said. “Head here.” She indicated the end of the table closest to the TV as she twisted the blinds shut on all the windows in the long room.
“Why?” he asked.
“This is north.” With the room dimmed, she cranked the thermostat, then grabbed a remote from beside the entertainment center and powered up the sound system around the big HD set. Mystical harmonies over drum circle rhythms flowed into our ears. She took the box of supplies and unpacked it all underneath the table, keeping the stones together, candles together, and so on. She returned to her “woogie room” and carried out a thatch broom on a birch staff.
Johnny didn’t lie down on the table. He crossed his arms and said, “Earlier you claimed you couldn’t do this.”
“Impulsive magic isn’t always the best.”
“But you are going ahead with it.”
“I lied. You called my bluff and said you weren’t leaving until I fixed this.” She shrugged. “We can do this another time if you’re getting cold feet.”
“No. I just want you to look me in the eye and tell me you can do this.”
She didn’t hesitate. “I can do this and I want to do this.”
Johnny lay down on the table.
Eris placed the broom on the floor, and proceeded to cleanse the space with earth, air, fire, and water. “Ground and center yourself,” she said to Johnny, with a light touch on his shoulder. “The rest of you observing should ground and center also.”
We all took cleansing breaths and did as told.
Eris took longer to do this than the rest of us, but that was probably because we were watching her. Stop being snide, I chided myself. Focus on positive things. She’s probably taking extra time to be assured she is calm. This is a significant ritual, and calmness is essential.
She had scattered salt across the floor as part of the earth cleansing, but now she made a wide circle of salt encompassing the table and all of the carpet.
“I cast this circle round,
and conjure this sacred space.
Between the worlds are we,
safe in this curved embrace.
Here, magic is potent,
in a realm of day and night.
Here, raised power’s contained
where birth and death unite.
Here, magic is possible.
Here, magic is possible.”
She lit a tea light candle and bent down to place it on the eastern edge of her salt circle.
“This circle must not be broken until I am done. And no one should interrupt a spell in progress.” With that, Eris faced east and held her arms wide open in welcoming. “Watchtower guardians of the east! You are hereby summoned! Stir as I beckon to you. Come to me. Witness this rite. Protect this sacred space.” She placed an incense burner, dragonfly charms, and feathers with a tea light candle at the inner edge of the circle.
She continued, calling on all the watchtowers in order. At each compass point she placed a candle and a representation of the correlating element. For fire she used a fist-size chunk of tiger iron, cinnamon sticks, and a round red candle. For water, she opened a glass bottle of water and pla
ced a dolphin carved of aquamarine. For earth she sat out a bowl of salt, chestnuts, and colorful dried leaves and dried wheat tied together with a brown ribbon.
“Frigg, Queen of the Aesir, wife of Odin the shape-shifter, look down from Asgard, where you sit before your wheel in Fensalir spinning golden thread.” Her arms slowly lifted as she spoke. “Don your lovely cloak of falcon feathers, transform and fly your inspiration to me. Though you will tell no fortunes, you peer into the universe, you know the fates of men. You know what I must do.” She took a deep breath. “Come to me, attended by your creative maidens, and fill me. Guide me! Steer me truly, that the destiny your golden threads weave may be served by my actions.”
I now understood why Great El’s slate had given me her name in runes. She connected to the Norse pantheon. It indicated a severing of ties to the blood affinity her family had for the Greek pantheon, but a witch should answer the call of what pantheon calls to her, as that is the root of the spiritual connection.
Eris lowered her arms but kept her palms above Johnny’s body, over his chest and bellybutton.
My attention flicked down to the items collected beneath the table, settling on the black-handled dagger I’d packed for her. I should be in there with him. She could cut me a door and let me in… . No. I will give her my trust in this.
“I now initiate the undoing of what was done before. What these hands once instated in magic upon this man, will now be rescinded. What captivity I cursed him with, I now release him from. What chains of confinement I placed upon him, I will now break.”
Arms at her sides, her shoulders bunched just a little. Her fingers splayed, clawlike. It was very much the same pose the fairy Fax Torris had used to call and control her superheated beam of light.
“Answer my call … come to me … I draw you up, up from below. Power! Fill my circle. Seal my circle.”
With the first gentle wave of energy, her hair lifted on the current. The second wave surged up before the first had ebbed, and as it tossed her hair around like thousands of snapping whips, sparks crackled from the tips.
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