Wicked Circle c-5

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Wicked Circle c-5 Page 31

by Linda Robertson


  Kicking free of the coils, I tore off my shoes, climbed to my feet and reached for the ladder.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

  Mero, Ailo, and Talto were being given a tour of the haven by Menessos. “And concluding our little tour, this is the Haven, with a capital H. There is already a national buzz about this nightclub, and it is expected to become a destination for those who would seek a place in our nocturnal culture.”

  Mero was impressed. “It will support the entire group?”

  “We believe so. There will be plenty of job openings for my . . . I mean for Goliath’s Offerlings and Beholders there, as well as at The Blood Culture.”

  “What is that?” Ailo asked.

  “It was Heldridge’s brainchild. An ingenious combination of business and strategy, The Blood Culture is a bar located between the Cleveland Clinic and University Hospitals. It is also right on the Health Line, a designated transit that connects them. Local healthcare professionals supplement their income by giving blood, as do the many area college students. Then the bar sells it to the local vampires.”

  “Do they cater to a mortal clientele as well?” she asked.

  “Of course.”

  “And your local government does not object?” Mero asked.

  “Only the local Red Cross was bothered. We made a deal with them. They have their people collect the blood, and we donate half of it to them. We had a surplus anyway.”

  A silence lingered, and Menessos gestured them out of the construction zone and back into the haven. “Do you mind if I make a call?” Mero asked, getting out his cell phone and putting it to his ear. “My reception isn’t the best below.”

  “Indeed,” Menessos said. “Ladies.” He gestured again, and they preceded him to the stairwell. The elevator dinged and opened as they started down.

  “There you are,” Giovanni exclaimed. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

  Mero kept his phone at his ear, as if he were continuing to talk to someone, even though he’d halted his call when he spotted Giovanni. He listened as Menessos asked, “What can I help you with, Giovanni?”

  “Not you. Meroveus.” Giovanni spotted him and aimed his course right for him.

  “I’ll call you back,” Mero said and shut his phone.

  “Yes?”

  Giovanni opened his mouth and shut it again.

  “What is it?” Mero asked.

  “I need a favor.”

  It evidently cost him to say the words, so Mero responded benevolently. “What is wrong?”

  “I loathe the paperwork of a haven. I am no businessman. And I am no mediator, either. I am a warrior, I settle disputes by killing my enemy. And I now long to slay both the masters of the Columbus and the Cincinnati havens.”

  “But of course you cannot. What can I do?”

  “Talk to the Excelsior. Have him revoke my status as Interim Quarterlord and call me back to Washington.”

  Mero put a hand on Giovanni’s shoulder. “I will see what I can do.”

  After speaking with his son, Mero returned to the lower levels of the haven. Just as he drew near to Mark, who was again guarding the door of Menessos’s private rooms, Seven came running, her phone in her hand. Mark kept Mero back with one thick arm and opened the door for Seven smoothly with the other. She entered without breaking stride.

  Mero and Mark crowded the doorway behind her.

  “Boss. Just got a call.”

  “And?”

  “Privately?” She flicked a glance toward the sisters.

  “Outside.”

  Mero and Mark backed up. Seven and Menessos left next. Mark shut the door.

  “Well?” Menessos asked.

  “One of the Beholders on patrol spotted Liyliy entering a convenience store. Said she was filling a basket with candy bars.”

  Menessos grabbed her arms. “Where?”

  “I’ve called for your car to be brought. I’ll explain on the way there.” She led him away.

  Mark remained by the door, but Mero followed. Menessos held his stomach, jogging to keep up with Seven, who said, “I have the Beholder’s location—are you all right?”

  “Yes. Please continue.”

  “I have the location. I sent a call for everyone else to form a grid, stationed on every street corner expanding away from her location so we can register her movements in any direction.”

  “Seven, I could kiss you.”

  “Save them for her, boss.”

  Menessos gave a snort. “You must quit calling me that.”

  Seven flashed him a smile as she ran. “Never.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

  I couldn’t reach the overhead door from this ladder, but the catwalk had a secondary ladder. I had to swing my leg over the railing and climb it from the outer side of the catwalk, but after climbing as high as possible, I wrapped one leg around the ladder to steady myself and shoved at the hatch cover. It was too heavy for me to just slide this panel into the next. Rising another ladder rung, I gained some leverage. Pushing with all my might, I managed to open it two inches. I wasn’t sure I could gain enough leverage to open it far enough to crawl through.

  Then air swirled in around me.

  Putting one knee over the rung to balance myself, I lifted both arms over my head. My shoulder ached, but I pressed my index fingers—fingers associated with air—against the metal roof.

  Breath and breeze and gusting wind

  Element of air bluster in!

  Eddy and churn, swirl and sigh

  Take this door and open it wide!

  I’ve heard wind howl beyond my windows. I’ve heard it rush through the trees. Neither of those sounded anything like the screaming force that answered me. Salt whipped into the air and scoured my skin. I shut my eyes and fought to maintain my position.

  The roof creaked like a door slowly closing, then the sound escalated. With a whoosh it was shoved open.

  I climbed free of the cargo hold.

  Standing on the deck, I looked around. The city of Cleveland lay beyond, all aglow.

  Closer was the Rock Hall to my left and the Great Lakes Science Center just ahead. I was on the William G. Mather, the steamship that built Cleveland—now a museum.

  I laughed, delighted to be free. How do I get off of here?

  A shrill screech in the sky stole my good humor.

  With a frustrated groan, I straddled the railing. I had to touch the water to invoke it.

  Then my attention caught on the water. This was going to be cold.

  I leapt.

  It was more than cold. I surfaced, shivering and treading water. The mantle remained around me, and its soft glow helped Liyliy locate me. I couldn’t release it; only with it active could I access the elements. My teeth chattered as I gathered my will. I pointed with my pinky fingers while still paddling the water with my hands. Liyliy was diving in, talons forward.

  Stream, river and beautiful lake

  Element of water, crest and break

  Froth and splatter, splash and spray

  Reach and cast my enemy away!

  The calm water stirred around me. Waves built and crested over me. The current carried me away as the owl was slapped with a mighty wave. With a flap of her wings she gained altitude and circled back.

  Again she made a try for me, and again an uncanny wave rescued me.

  Dawn was a long way off. I would succumb to the cold long before the sun rose.

  I swam closer to the ship. Because of the inward slope of the ship’s hull, she couldn’t dive at the same angle. She adjusted, preparing to swoop in straight at me. She might drown me, or squash me against the side of the ship. There were many possibilities, but it was unlikely letting me live was among them.

  As I was heading toward the rudder, thinking that there was more cover there, it hit me—

  Combine what you have earned.

  Splashing forward, I put my thumbs against the ship’s hull, pointed up with my index fingers and kept my pinkies in th
e water. And I kicked like hell to stay afloat.

  Element of fire, give me heat!

  Element of water, boil and seethe!

  Element of air, combine with these . . .

  Over my shoulder I watched the dark form descending. I focused, hard. I reached deep within me, and I finished,

  Lake Erie, arise, and give me steam!

  The talons gleamed in the moonlight, silver and sharp. The owl wings spread, adjusting her aim. A sharp cry of triumph exploded from her beak.

  Air swirled behind me. About three yards away, a blast of boiling water burst free of the surface. Pulled into the whirling wind, it was transmuted by the touch of wicked air.

  The owl crashed into the thick veil. She screamed as it hit her huge eyes and blanketed her fleshy talons. She screeched and flapped and stumbled through the air. She lurched out of my sight, and it sounded like she crashed into the hatch and was flopping around on the deck.

  A wave of heated water flowed over me, and I was grateful for its warmth.

  I heard an awful screech, then a dark shadow flew away over the lake.

  I swam toward the rocks of the North Harbor. With my arm feeling so bad, “swimming” was actually more like floating on my back and kicking to propel me in the proper general direction.

  As I neared the steep slope, the large, slimy rocks ahead made me wary. I wasn’t fondly anticipating that climb barefoot, and I wasn’t hankering to be dripping wet in the cold night air as I made my way downtown, either, but here I was.

  Wading out of the water, I saw a flash of light above, but it disappeared. I tried to wipe the silt from the shreds of my gown. I’d ruined two nice dresses in seventy-two hours. Laughing at myself, I scrambled on, slipping but determined. I was halfway up when I heard someone say, “May I help you?”

  I looked up.

  Menessos.

  He’s alive.

  Of course it was him. My Arthur, I could count on him.

  His shoulders lowered. His eyes softened, expressing the relief that filled him.

  I offered him my hand.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

  Liyliy could barely see out of her filmy eyes.

  Consumed with a bitter, malefic rage, she flew. In time, pain wore her down. She tapped a ley and healed herself enough to keep functioning, but some of the damage was permanent. She feared returning to her human form, feared knowing what new curse was hers to own.

  The revenge she would reap upon the Lustrata would have to be profound.

  Another thought occurred to her.

  She would need help . . . and she knew exactly who would want to help her.

  Giovanni.

  At the hotel, despite checking in so late, Johnny was showered and dressed by 7:00 a.m. The gym bag had held dark blue jeans, a white tank undershirt, and a button-front shirt. It was black and had silk-screened eagles and guitars on it. The short sleeves barely hid his armband tattoos.

  He shoved the suit into the gym bag and, in the lobby, used the available computer to search the internet. First, he did a local white-pages search for the name Hampton. Among the fewer than six thousand residents of this city—according to Wikipedia—there were no Hamptons.

  My mother has moved away. Or married. He had no hope of finding her on his own, but a private investigator could search the records.

  Undaunted, he began his second search, perusing articles about boys raised without fathers, about absent fathers reappearing in their sons’ lives, and the challenges these men and their sons faced.

  The statistics were discouraging, the facts heart wrenching, but Johnny vowed to not screw this up. To be better than the data he’d found.

  At 8:45, he checked out, and the guest services lady suggested the Blue Moon Café for breakfast. He thanked her and wondered if she had any idea she’d been talking to a wærewolf.

  Sitting in his car, his phone beeped. He had a text from Kirk. Your GF was found safe. Where R U?

  Johnny sighed, eyes shutting momentarily with relief. He’d been so consumed with all that had happened to him in the last twenty hours that Seph’s danger had slipped his mind. He fought back the twinge of guilt with the knowledge that she was okay.

  He texted back: Alls well. Should return l8r 2day. Let u kno when I kno.

  Saranac Lake wasn’t very big, but it seemed like a nice place to grow up in. I must have grown up here. In the Adirondacks. With all these trees. He recalled Toni saying the kid was a climber.

  What if the kid doesn’t like me?

  What if I don’t like the kid?

  What if I do?

  The café on Main Street was easy to find. When Johnny parked and walked into the café, the people there quieted. He wondered if they did because they’d seen the news yesterday, or if they just did that to all strangers.

  Sitting at the counter, he ordered the Café Steak-and-Eggs and a Tupper Stack of pancakes with two glasses of orange juice. By the time his food was served, the chatter had picked up again, and as he ate, he heard whispering about his car.

  One old man wondered too loudly, “Maybe it’s stolen.”

  “Stolen?” another questioned.

  “A cop’s pulled up to the curb. He’s just sitting there.”

  The other man scolded the first, “There’s all kinds of fancy cars ’round here during skiing season.”

  “But it ain’t ski season yet. Did you see that fella’s face? He’s got tattoos around his eyes! That’s a shady character, there.”

  He glared openly at the man, who hunched into his seat. Johnny shook his head and resumed eating. He was nearly finished when his phone rang. “ ’Lo?”

  “John,” Toni said. “You can head over now.”

  Johnny downed what remained of his juice, placed a fifty on the counter and headed out. He noted that there was a police car up the road, but it didn’t follow him. A green Crown Victoria seemed to trail him out of town, but it turned off before he arrived at Toni’s house.

  Will the kid be scared of me with all these tattoos?

  From the driveway, he studied the house. In the morning light, the beige aluminum-sided ranch, with black shutters and a brick-red front door, seemed smaller than it had in the dark last night. It was cute and well kept; the many trees were bare, but the lawn had been raked and the leaves tended. The bushes were trimmed, the flowerbeds mulched and ready for the snow that would soon fall.

  He shut the car off and dropped the keys in his pocket.

  Toni opened the front door before he could knock. “Have a seat. I’ll get him.”

  Johnny entered a modest living room with two chairs and a small love seat, as she’d said. All were dark brown and worn. He sat on one of the chairs and noticed that the oval coffee table showed signs of wear and tear on its edges. He understood why when he saw the bin of Hot Wheels under the coffee table.

  He swallowed, hard.

  “Evan! Come here,” Toni called.

  “I’m playing!”

  “There’s someone I want you to meet.”

  “Who?”

  “Come here and I’ll introduce you.”

  Silence.

  More silence.

  Toni rolled her eyes and started forward, but Johnny touched her arm. “May I?”

  She blinked. Nodded. “Sure.”

  Johnny walked down the hall with his heart pounding. The walls and ceiling seemed to be closing in on him, though he told himself it was just a small house. The vroom-vroom sounds of a boy at play met his ears, and he eased into the doorway as if his world was in slow motion.

  The room was a sunny yellow with framed posters of sleek cars. The twin bed was primary red and shaped like a Ferrari. The bedspread was also red. Though there was beige carpeting, a small area rug, made like a city with roads, lay next to the bed. It seemed the rug city was under construction—dump trucks and backhoes were placed along the streets.

  The boy lay in the middle of the city on his stomach, feet kicking up and one sock half off his foot. He was
positioned away from the door, his attention riveted to some Hot Wheels setup. The boy—Evan—was guiding cars into a motorized area that caught the cars and sent them speeding through loop-de-loops. When the cars crashed, he laughed delightedly. “All right!”

  Maybe this will work out after all.

  “So you like cars?” Johnny asked.

  At his voice, the boy turned, and his big brown eyes started at Johnny’s shoes and rose unhurriedly upward. “You’re really tall.”

  “Yup.”

  “Why are you wearing makeup?”

  Great. “I’m not.” He pointed at his face. “These are tattoos.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I used to be in a rock-and-roll band.”

  The kid hit a button that switched off the motorized part of his toy. He sat up, cross-legged. “Who are you?”

  “My name’s John. You’re Evan?”

  “Yeah.” He scratched at his brow. “Why are you here?”

  “I . . .” Johnny’s mouth opened and shut. He couldn’t just blurt out Because I’m your dad. “I heard you like cars.”

  “So?”

  Johnny bent and picked up one of the cars. “This one. Do you know what this is?”

  Evan studied the car. “Ferrari. Like my bed. Only that one’s light blue.”

  “What do you know about Ferraris?”

  “They’re cool and they go fast.”

  Johnny dropped to one knee. “This one happens to be a 599 GTB Fiorano. Do you know why they go fast?”

  Evan blinked.

  “This Ferrari has a V12 engine. That means it has twelve cylinders. . . . Do you know anything about engines?”

  “No.”

  Johnny asked, “Would you like to?”

  “No.” Evan jumped up, snatched the car from him and left the room.

  What did I do?

  Evan dashed straight to Toni in the living room.

  Johnny followed behind him.

  “Who is that guy, Gram?”

 

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