“Why?”
“Ig knew people. We have sources inside the haven. We know what happened. Your girlfriend called your phone last night, early. She warned me you were going to have a fit. She said it wouldn’t last long and that you’d be fine. She said you knew about it, and you didn’t. She lied, John. She lied and she did something. Something magic. You need to know what it was.”
“I’ll find out. I’m sure it’s fine.”
“She’d marked the vampire. Twice. She had control of him, you understand? The haven was essentially under her control. We can’t afford to have that happen to our Domn Lup.”
“Hector, I can handle it.”
“I bet the vamp said that, too.”
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
I woke up. My body still hurt, but there was light on my face.
Johnny’s here.
I blinked until things came into focus. Well, not things, but thing: the small black candle about two feet away from my head. It was dripping dark wax into the powdery white salt. The little flame was reassuring. It meant that someone—
“You’re awake.”
I recognized that voice. It wasn’t Johnny. Oh hell.
With his knees bent up and his arms clasped around them and the long sleeves of his black robe covering him, Creepy had completely blended into the background, which seemed to be iron. The meager illumination didn’t stretch very far.
It seemed my call through the sorsanimus had worked and been answered, by Menessos anyway. I lifted my head; it wasn’t easy with the crick presently in my neck. “Untie me.”
“I cannot.”
“What? Menessos sent you to—”
“Menessos did not send me this time.”
Exhaling slowly, I let my head rest against the salt again. This is where Menessos’s nondisclosure deal starts biting me in the ass. I wasn’t entirely certain I wanted to know the answer but asked anyway, “Then why are you here?”
He pitched forward onto his knees. The salt—there had to be tons of it here—shifted as he disturbed it. He repositioned the candle so it was a foot or so away from the crown of my head. Then Creepy lay down in front of me, mimicking my pose exactly. “My eyes are addicted to your beauty.” He reached for my cheek. “And my hands yearn—”
“You have to untie me.” I didn’t have time for this, and I certainly didn’t want to know more about his yearnings.
His touch trailed to my neck. “I don’t have to do anything,” he whispered. “I don’t even have to be here. . . .” His fingertips glided so softly over my shoulder.
Every nerve was hypersensitive. Pain jolted through me. I gasped and tensed and shouted, “Don’t!” That only made it worse. Tears welled in my eyes.
“Your flesh is heated and swollen, so tender.”
“My shoulder’s out of socket,” I said through clenched teeth. “Don’t touch me.”
The next thing I knew he was wiping my tears. Then, as if sampling the most decadent confection, he licked his fingers. “I cannot bear to see you in such pain.”
“Then help me,” I pleaded. Even Creepy’s help would suffice.
With purpose, he sat up. I was grateful for his change of heart—until he grabbed my shoulder. I tried to scream no or don’t or stop or any other cease-type command, but as he shoved the bone into place what left my mouth was a wordless and primal expression of agony.
The sharp intensity disappeared, but an awful ache remained as I tried to relearn how to breathe.
“There.” Creepy’s fingertips brushed my cheek and he lay down again. “That’s better, is it not?”
When I could speak, I said, “Please untie me.”
“I told you I cannot.”
“If you can repair a screen door, you can make a rope untie itself.”
“Yes. I am capable of that.”
“Then what are you waiting for? Help me!”
“It is not that simple, Persephone.”
My stomach gave a little heave as I recalled Menessos saying our new ally had taught him to think through the pain. My knee-jerk reaction was to not make any deals with this man, but I was not in a position to negotiate. “Explain,” I growled.
“Liyliy needs you to do something.”
Fuck her. Luckily, before the thought became words that escaped my lips, I decided expressing negatives to the one person—well, whatever Creepy was—who might get me out of all this was a bad idea. “What would that be?”
“She will tell you when she rises at sundown. That is why I cannot untie you. If I did, then you would not be here when night falls. Tied up, you will stay and you will be motivated to do what she asks of you.”
“What do you care if I do what she wants me to?”
“I told you I could help you more than you know.” He drew very close to me, almost nose to nose, and caressed my cheek. “You need to know that you can do this.” His fingertips slid to the back of my neck and held me as he kissed my forehead. When his warm lips abandoned my skin, he whispered, “Malek tsalmaveth. Basilissa nekros.” He released me and blew out the candle.
I blinked in the sudden darkness, waiting for his touch to resume, waiting for him to do something I’d protest. He did nothing. “Hey,” I said.
Nothing.
“Hey!”
He was gone.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
The press conference would commence at three o’clock, with security in place to Gregor’s satisfaction. MacPhearson had acquired a podium to Aurelia’s satisfaction, though MacPhearson had fussed at the men bringing it in, warning them not to scuff the floors if they valued their jobs. Johnny sat in a room down a hall off the rotunda and listened jealously as the crew performed a sound check on the mic.
Things were so much easier when all I wanted to be was a rock star.
On the cell phone he hit the autodial for Seph, again. Still no answer. He called the haven again. After five rings Ivanka growled, “Da, Johnny. I am here. I have no news. Stop calling!” She hung up on him.
“Silence that phone,” Aurelia said on her way to the door. “It’s time.”
Johnny set the phone to vibrate and followed her out into the hall.
“You wait here. I’ll have everyone’s attention once I begin, so you can come to the head of the hallway after I’m talking. Wait there until I introduce you.”
Johnny noticed Gregor watching her strut away and remembered that Gregor had been the guard of the Rege in the Courts of the Zvonul in Romania. “You already know her.”
“Aurelia Romochka. Press Secretary to the Court of Zvonul. Very good at her job. They couldn’t have sent you a better liaison. She’s great at managing the media, organizing social events and the like.”
Johnny rolled his shoulders to alleviate the tension. He was anxious and a tad shaky. A few cleansing breaths helped. “Not an easy task, to gain any kind of rank being a female under the last Rege.”
“How do you think she gained her rank?” Gregor asked gravely.
“Under the Rege?”
“Under his fists.” Gregor added, “He broke many females. He didn’t break her. She’s strong.”
In the main room her voice boomed from the sound system. “. . . thank you to all the media here today. We are delighted to have you join us. . . .”
Johnny walked toward the head of the hallway. A curtain had been placed there for privacy. He waited and listened until he heard “. . . and now, it is my great honor to present the Domn Lup.”
Once he was in position behind the podium, Johnny scanned the prepared speech that was waiting for him. Having power such as that being given him meant many things. Chiefly, bearing the burden of maintaining the trust of the people under his authority. He’d previously thought of it as a kind of enslavement. He didn’t disagree with that notion now, but he knew the words on the page, and he deemed them good words. Honest words.
He wasn’t here for the power. He wasn’t here to become a dictator. I will not be like that, he vowed silently.
Not because I am better. Better men than me have succumbed to the seductions of leadership, perks that are not lacking in the role I am about to embrace. He glanced at Aurelia. The difference is I see the danger, even here at the outset. If I remain mindful of it, I will not fall.
“Hello,” he said. “I am John Newman.”
Flashes blinded him.
“As I ascend to the rank and privilege of the Domn Lup, I find myself inspired by the responsibility I am about to embrace. . . .” The speech was short, and he followed it by inviting questions. None were unexpected. He responded appropriately to each.
Aurelia leaned over and touched Johnny’s elbow. “The next question is the last,” she said softly, making a point of checking her wristwatch for the assembled media to see.
Johnny smiled at the crowd. “I’m told there’s time for only one more question.”
There were hands raised, and he tried to find someone he hadn’t yet called on. “You, with the green tie.”
“Where did you grow up? What can you tell us about your human background?”
Cameras flashed again.
Johnny shrugged. “I don’t know. I can remember the last eight years only. Prior to that is gone.”
“Why?” the man in the green tie asked.
Others shouted questions like “Did you have a head trauma?” or “Were you attacked by a wærewolf then?”
Aurelia cut between him and the podium. “I’m sorry, that will be all for now.”
Gregor clasped Johnny’s arm and led him along the velvet rope that not only cordoned them off from the media and the public at large, who had crowded closer, but also led directly to the hallway they had emerged from. “There is a limo waiting, sire.” He moved to switch their places so he was the one nearest the velvet rope.
Before Johnny was out of reach, a woman leaned and reached, snatching Johnny’s wrist between both of her small hands. Her grip was viselike; he paused. Cameras clicked relentlessly around them.
“Ma’am—” Johnny began.
“We have to go, sire.” Gregor’s voice was stern. “We have to leave so that the media can wrap up and the building can be emptied.”
The woman said, “I knew you before you were a ‘new man.’ ”
Gregor reached toward the woman’s fingers. “You have to release him, ma’am.”
“Wait,” Johnny said, his free hand slapping onto Gregor’s chest.
“What does an old woman know?” Gregor whispered.
She fixed Gregor with an unwavering stare. “Enough to bring me over five hundred miles,” she said. “On a bus.”
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Kurt Miller had followed when Toni Brown had hailed a cab from the bus station. As a SSTIX agent, he’d been made aware of some hubbub about the wære’s Domn Lup, but as the regional agent for upstate New York, it had been of only peripheral interest to him. Listening to a local radio station, he learned a major announcement by the wæres was being made at the Cleveland Trust Bank. When the cab dropped Toni off in front of an impressive building with columns, he read Cleveland Trust Bank along the top. Why does this matter to you, Toni? Is he supposed to be here?
Kurt drove slowly and saw her leave the cab and head inside; he also glimpsed security using metal-detecting wands to check the people going in. He found parking down the block on the opposite side of the street, then jogged back. It bothered him to leave his gun in the car, but he’d not get through security with a weapon.
As he waited for his inspection at the checkpoint, he scrutinized the security staff. None of them fit the description of the person he suspected she was looking for. He also worried that Toni might see him as he waited or as he entered. It was a risk he couldn’t dodge.
Inside, he searched for a few moments before finding her. The place was thick with media people, and Toni was shorter than most. Her silver-blond hair—too silver for her age—helped him locate her in the area to the side of the podium, right along the velvet ropes. It was not a prime press spot, but it was obviously the entry and exit for those making the announcements here today.
He had to give her credit; Antonia Brown was many things, but stupid wasn’t one of them. Positioning himself in the crowd about ten feet behind her and away from the podium, he was confident she wouldn’t catch a glimpse of him.
Once the Domn Lup was brought out, however, Kurt was stunned. Tall, lanky, with black wavy hair and a cleft chin—this had to be Elena Hampton’s son, John. He’s the Domn Lup. Change at will? That explains everything. God, tattoos on his eyelids? That had to hurt like a sonofabitch.
After the announcement was made and the pretty speech given, this “Johnny Newman” allowed the reporters to ask questions.
Detective Miller considered what plan Toni might have. She had positioned herself where the Domn Lup would see her, but he hadn’t recognized her on his way out. Then the final question was asked and he claimed he had no memory before eight years ago.
If that’s true, he won’t know you at all, Toni.
Kurt worried that if she acted in some rash and desperate manner, the security here would respond. They couldn’t hurt her in public, but Kurt didn’t trust wærewolves, even when they were being honest about what they were.
When John Newman left the stage, Kurt was relieved the security started to change places with John as they neared Toni’s spot.
Then Toni very nearly leapt forward as she grabbed at the Domn Lup. There were gasps and flashes, and the noise level of the media side rose as they compressed the area, straining for pictures and trying to hear.
In the shuffle, Kurt surged toward Toni. He couldn’t let anything happen to one of his wife’s best friends. He was right behind her when he heard her say, “. . . on a bus.”
It seemed the whole room stilled, like someone had stopped time. Then John Newman said, “Let her through. Bring her with us.”
The brawny security man unhooked the velvet rope and let Toni through, his glare enough to keep anyone else from trying to pass through. He snapped the cordon back in place and followed John Newman out.
Bring her with us. Bring her with us?
Kurt had to get to the parking garage now.
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
Three limos pulled into the parking lot of the Pilgrim Congregational Church. It was well out of downtown in Tremont, and was the location the wæres often used for meetings they wanted off-site of the den, especially if they wanted to avoid vamps.
Gregor had insisted the old woman not ride in the same vehicle as Johnny. He’d put her into the first car and ridden with her. When Gregor got out, Johnny, who was sitting by the window of the middle car, hit the button to lower the window. “Well?” Johnny asked. “What did you find out?”
“She’s a stubborn woman who is apparently not intimidated by riding in a limo surrounded by wæres,” Gregor announced, clearly frustrated.
“What did she say?” Johnny clarified.
“That she will only talk to you.”
For the entirety of the fifteen-minute ride, Johnny’s emotions had swirled. He wanted to hear what she had to say, and he feared it. Who was that woman? Not my mother, surely! She would have said something different, right? Now he intended to talk to her, and he didn’t want everyone else listening in. He opened the car door. “Then let her talk to me. Send her inside. Alone. And send the rest of the men home.” He approached the church.
“Sire—”
“You heard me.” Johnny kept walking.
He pushed open the great doors, walked into the theatrical interior. Here, there was real Tiffany glass, a dome and columns as well. He sat in a pew near the front and viewed the pulpit.
The answers I sought were locked away. I didn’t know when the phoenix taloned me that it would cost me any chance of that knowledge. Don’t let this be a hoax.
He heard the outer door open again. Momentarily, quiet footsteps entered the chapel. The woman sidestepped into the pew just ahead of his and kept her distance.
/> He observed her as she stood looking up at the dome then at other architectural details. She didn’t seem nervous; she seemed very much at ease. Her silver-blond hair was short, and she was dressed in a gray pantsuit made of a material that didn’t wrinkle. He recalled her saying she’d ridden five hundred miles on a bus. That would explain the strange mingled scents around her.
Finally, she sat down in the pew, keeping her spine straight, shoulders squared. As she turned to face him, he noticed she’d tried—without complete success—to apply enough makeup under her eyes to hide the dark circles. She didn’t sleep well, he guessed, but she wasn’t as old as he had first thought. The preponderance of silvery white hair on her head belied age—or hardship. She did emit a profound tiredness.
“You certainly picked a beautiful spot to talk,” she said.
“What’s your name?”
“You used to call me Toni.”
He regarded her, repeating the name over and over to himself, but he had not even a hint of recollection. “Do you dislike wæres?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know any. Or I didn’t until now. I liked you well enough before.”
“How do you know me?”
“Indulge an ‘old’ woman for a moment, will you?”
He felt only impatience, having waited eight years already, but he forced the hastiness aside and unclenched the fists he hadn’t consciously made. Gregor had surely insulted her when he’d called her old. Wanting to ease that offense, Johnny deliberately relaxed his shoulders and nodded.
“What is the date of your earliest memory?” she asked.
Suspicion filled him. “Why?”
“Everything else I think I know hinges on this time line.”
“Because you’re a fraud who wants information to twist into your lies?” Johnny sat back with a tired, regretful exhalation. “Tell me what you came here to say, or get out of here,” he whispered.
Toni fixed him with the look that cross mothers wear.
He could force her to tell him. It probably wouldn’t take much to make her talk. A wave of shame rushed through him. What’s wrong with me? He’d lost it last night and he might have lost Persephone forever, but this impulsive carelessness wasn’t him.
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