Shattered Circle c-6

by Linda Robertson

  “Persephone. Open your eyes.”

  I roused in the fetal position in the same decaying building I’d started out in.

  Creepy stood towering over me. He was in the modern dark suit again. “It is time to decide.”

  I sat up, scooting away from him, and in doing so discovered that we were on a jagged-edged circular section of floor about four feet across. The rest of the floor was gone. It felt solid and steady, so I doubted it was hovering as much as it was held up by some support beneath. At least the thought that it was something other than Creepy’s will keeping us from crashing down made me happier.

  I posed, sitting, leaning back on my hands with my legs bent in front of me. This hopefully showed him I was comfortable. Casual. Be casual. “I have a question first,” I said meekly.

  His hands slid into his pockets. “Once again, the questions are free.” The words were accommodating, but the tone was tight with irritation.

  “I understand that I sought help and ended up with you and am therefore obligated to accept your help. I understand that I can choose to do things my way, or I can accomplish much the same thing another way, one at your discretion.”

  “None of that contained an inquiry.”

  “Right. Here’s the question.” I held his gaze steadily. “What is the cost for your services if I choose my way, and what is the cost if I choose your way?”

  His masklike expression didn’t change a bit. He gazed unwaveringly down at me for several heartbeats, then his focus slid around my body and returned to my face. “I intend to have you, either way.”

  My heart sputtered and skipped a beat.

  Don’t accept the first offer, Amenemhab had said. It shows weakness. You must negotiate. He needn’t fear. Though Creepy was handsome, I was definitely going to negotiate out of this. Aside from the fact that my moral compass would not let me hop into bed with someone just because I found him attractive, my lips were sore from his kiss; sex with him was out of the question. “And if that is not something I am willing to barter?”

  “Willing or unwilling is irrelevant. That is part of my price.”

  I swallowed hard enough to hear it and fought against the chill tickling my spine. I had to hold some semblance of power here. My totem had mentioned posturing as well. “Submissive” obviously wasn’t going to gain me any leniency. In fact, it might have encouraged him.

  I stood up. “Part of it? I demand that you tell me what your full price is, with each option. I cannot finalize my decision without knowing.” My hands rested on my hips.

  He glanced at the ceiling and conveyed thoughtfulness for about half a second. “If I am to proceed according to the design you arrived with, you must allow me to satisfy myself with you in three ways. If I am to aid you in ridding yourself of doubts and avoiding those you love coming to harm as leverage used against you, then you must allow me to satisfy myself with you two different ways.”

  I scowled. “Satisfy yourself? Geez. Can you make it sound any more smarmy?”

  “If that’s a request, yes I can.”

  “Forget I said it.” I waved him off. Amenemhab had suggested that I explore his demands, not only to pin him down as to what he meant precisely, but to see if there was information there that I could use to get him to make concessions. “But what do you mean by ‘two’ and ‘three different ways’? Elaborate.” I was hoping he meant positions and not that many orifices—then I scolded myself for even hoping he meant positions. This bargain should not be happening at all.

  His lips curved. “You want to know how I like to satisfy myself with a woman?” He reached up and rubbed his thumb across my lips. “Remember this?”

  They felt slightly swollen, definitely still sore. “That’s all it takes to satisfy you? A rough kiss?”

  “That was a taste of what I like.” He moved in closer.

  I crossed my arms defensively.

  Ignoring my move, he wrapped his arms around me and whispered into my ear. “I want you naked before me. I want to touch you, to fondle and caress you. I want to grope you until I’ve found all the spots that make you tremble with desire. I want to bring you to the edge of orgasm. I want to hear you beg me not to stop. But I will.”

  Maybe I liked his looks, but he’d done things that made me wary of him even before he’d brought me here, gone all weird and gotten physically rough with me. “Listen up,” I said forcefully, “I do not want to have sex with you.”

  “I know this.” He spun away. “I know you have a skewed image of me in your mind.”

  He’d gone from aggressive sexual predator to sneeringly rejected date in the blink of an eye. I arched a brow guardedly. “Skewed?”

  “Your perception of me was influenced by others.” He clasped his hands behind his back. “You will not give me fair consideration so long as you are being swayed by the words of a jealous would-be lover.”

  Why did he even care about my fair consideration of him? He didn’t think . . . oh hell. I blinked repeatedly.

  “Menessos must have said things about me. Why else would you be so resistant and mistrustful when I am only offering you what you want as you want it, and giving you the option of improving upon that idea?”

  “It’s not your offers I have issues with, it’s your secretiveness about your method on option two and your price for each that are problematic.”

  He turned back. “You are circumspect only because of his lack of trust—”

  “No, I assure you, I’m rather prudent in all my decisions.”

  Ignoring my response, he continued. “—and his actions are rooted in jealousy . . . you are beautiful, Persephone.” He cupped my cheek adoringly. “He has every right to try to keep you to himself. But he does not have the right to manipulate you so.”

  My first impulse was to defend Menessos. The second impulse was to put the blame where it should be and remind him that he’d broken Ivanka’s arm, poisoned my dragon, and that I had dubbed him Creepy for a reason. But the jackal had warned me that those kinds of actions would only weaken my position. Pointing out his crimes would not inspire him to lower his price. It would only fortify his excuse to dig in and negotiate less.

  I had to be cooperative and warm, Amenemhab had said, to find a common ground.

  I looked at the man who wouldn’t let me leave this meditation until we’d struck up some kind of bargain with sex as his payment, and knew my expression was full of frustrated disdain.

  “Cooperative and warm” was not going to be easy.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  The force that hit Johnny was an inferior one, but the blow connected precisely on his knee. He could not keep from falling. As he pitched to the side, something large rolled past him.

  Johnny roared and scrabbled onto his inhuman feet, but the large object made the transition much more smoothly.

  Brian.

  The Omori pulled two pistols from his belt even as he gained his feet. Both pointed at the vampire, who lay unmoving. Then Brian lowered himself to one knee. “Sire. Sire, please. Stand down.”

  The beast flicked its claws. Rage boiled in his chest.

  But Johnny heard.

  Seconds ticked by as he struggled with the duality of his desires. Save Red. Taste enemy blood. His heart was all for the woman; but his head was filled with fury and his jaws dripped thick saliva. The moment wore painfully on, tension roiling around him like tangible ribbons of hate—then the man surfaced from someplace deep in the waters of his mind and, gasping, fought for control.

  One rear paw slid backward. His weight shifted. He brought the other paw in line with this one. Turning his head to maintain his watch on the vampire, he crouched low. Commanding his beast to retreat, he concentrated and held his mental ground as he forced the feral creature inside him to succumb, to shrink and submit.

  When the wolf began relenting, his man-form was regained.

  His skin felt hot as the cold air of the house swirled around him. Staying down, balanced on his toes, one kne
e, and the tips of his fingers, Johnny shivered. From head to toe he shook, adrenaline and aggression coursing like whitewater rapids through his veins. He focused on the vampire, but that receding part of him wished the damned thing would twitch once so he could pounce and finish it off. The man knew it was wrong, but the wolf wanted it all the same. If the vamp provoked him, he would be justified. And it would burn up this excess energy.

  “Sire.”

  Johnny’s head snapped toward the Omori and a growl slipped out unchecked.

  The young man’s blue eyes were set, his expression serious. “Sire. Forgive my interference, but you must not kill that vampire.”

  The Omori had put specific emphasis on the word. “Why not?”

  “I’m sure you’ve had some security briefings, sire, but perhaps you don’t recognize him. That vamp is one of a dozen or so high-ranking officials included in our OPS training. He’s important. Important enough to be on a do-not-kill list.”

  Aurelia had pestered him about security briefings; he had not made time for them yet. “Who is he?”

  “His name is Franciscus Meroveus. He is an advisor to the Excelsior. Killing him would cause friction between wæres and vamps. Hostilities would follow—off the record, underground, and out of the public eye if we were lucky, but it would be ugly nonetheless.”

  Johnny glowered. He was still breathing hard, but he’d brought it down to rushing breaths through flared nostrils. Control was returning. Gradually. “He did something to Red.”

  Brian readjusted his grip on the guns, shifted his position, and changed the angle of his aim. The guns looked heavy and fully loaded; even a wærewolf had to amend his pose to avoid muscle fatigue. “Do you want to instigate a war . . . over a woman?”

  Johnny fought down a snarl.

  “I am at your command, sire.” Brian paused. When Johnny didn’t answer he added, “If you want a war, this will give you one.”

  Johnny rolled his shoulders to fight off the strain he felt. His body hurt; his arms, his sides.

  “Give the word. One way or the other. I trust you to know what you’re doing and the ramifications you’re bringing on our people.” His fingers tightened on the triggers.

  Our people. Those two words echoed through Johnny’s head. Somewhere along the way they changed into your son.

  “No.” It was more guttural than Johnny wanted the word to come out so he repeated it, making the effort to make it more human. “No.”

  “Then, let’s bind him and tend to your burns, sire.”

  Ten minutes later, after Johnny had donned his jeans, they had the vampire secured. Meroveus lay on the floor in the space the dinette used to occupy. Johnny had watched Brian loop the rope around the vamp’s wrists and ankles in a binding that, should the vamp try to pull free, the rope would just tighten.

  “He wields magic. Better gag him,” Johnny said.

  Brian took care of that also. “Now. Your wounds.”

  Johnny had examined them. He had tender spots, red and swollen, like third-degree burns that had been healing for a month or so. To have healed this much in one change—and not to have healed fully—meant that they must have been pretty nasty. “I’m fine.” He willed his left arm to transform. The fur sprouted and his arm thickened, fingernails thickened into sharp claws . . . then he willed it to revert. This time the burn was still slightly pink. He repeated the partial change on his other arm, then on his torso.

  As the fur receded into his chest at the last, he looked at Brian, who wore an expression of awe.

  “I didn’t doubt you before, sire,” said Brian, “but I am honored to witness the very power that makes you our king.”

  Johnny gazed at Persephone. She still had not moved. “What of Aurelia?”

  “The situation is handled. All the details on site and those pertaining to her transport have been attended.”

  In front of him, Red looked so peaceful and serene. But his gut told him something was terribly wrong. He touched his empty hip pocket. “Did you see my phone?”

  Brian started across the kitchen. “Saw it in the debris earlier.” He walked down the hall, returned with the phone.

  Johnny immediately opened it and flipped through his contacts until he found DEMETER. He hit Send and glanced at the clock; it was nearly midnight. She was not going to be happy.

  The phone rang three times and her familiar voice croaked, “Who’s dead?”

  “No one,” he lied.

  “What is it?”

  “Demeter . . . ”

  “Is Persephone all right?”

  Johnny let out a slow breath.

  “Damn it, John, talk to me!”

  “Someone tried to kill her tonight.” His gaze flicked over her neck, to the burn, then to the goose egg lump on the side of her head. “She’s got a few minor injuries.”

  “But you don’t get an old woman out of bed to tell her that her granddaughter has minor injuries, so spit it out.”

  “I left to pursue her attacker—”

  “You get him?”

  “I did.”

  “Good. Go on.”

  “When I got back, Red was sitting in the kitchen. Sitting cross-legged with a circle of water on the floor around her.”

  “She was meditating.”

  “I figured. But she’s still sitting here like that.”

  Demeter was quiet. “How long?”

  “An hour or so. Is that normal?”

  “Not exactly.” Her coarse voice smoothed nonchalantly. “Have you broken the circle?”

  “No.”

  He heard Demeter sigh in relief.

  “I don’t know much about magic, but I know that would be bad.”

  “I’ll get Lance up and be on my way.”

  “No. I’m sending wæres from the Pittsburgh den to pick you up. They will be there in twenty minutes.” He hung up with her and made a call to Kirk; he knew it would be handled.

  Standing there in the kitchen, staring at Red, he felt helpless.

  So he sat down across from her. Her expression had changed. It wasn’t exactly serene anymore. It didn’t suggest fright or fear or pain, but it wasn’t peaceful.

  Maybe he was projecting his emotions on her.

  He wasn’t at peace inside, and it wasn’t merely the aches and pains from the recent fight. There was a key in Aurelia’s suite that he had to get. For Evan’s sake he had to secure the information she had locked away before anyone else did. He considered sending someone to collect the key. Kirk or Hector maybe.

  No.

  With all the deviousness Aurelia had shown, it wouldn’t surprise him to learn the Zvonul had her watched. It wouldn’t surprise him if she had enemies who managed some secret surveillance, either.

  If anyone was watching her suite, it could mean danger for whoever went to collect the item. He couldn’t ask anyone else to take that risk for him. Besides, with him being the Domn Lup anyone who was watching the place would think twice about acting against him.

  He glanced away from Red to the clock on the stove. He had time to drive to Cleveland, get the key, and get back before Demeter would arrive. His gaze fell to Mero. He would even have time to deliver that bloodsucker back where he belonged.

  Opening his phone again, he called Mountain. The Beholder would keep an eye on Red, and would follow orders to keep from interfering with the magic circle around her.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Creepy.”

  “I accepted that name without complaint, but please . . . ” He stood with his palms turned toward me and implored, “Please. Choose another name for me.” He dropped his chin. “I regret accepting that name now, as it has only served to reinforce your negative image of me.”

  I had called him that out of mean-spiritedness. I felt ashamed—

  —until I realized he’d given me a bargaining chip.

  I had the urge to barter immediately and get the sex issue out of his price. But holding on to the option seemed the shrewder move. Besides,
the more he behaved like this, the easier I found the notion of being cooperative. Warm behavior might inspire him to negotiate more.

  “Have I not aided you? Have I not acted only to bring your desires to fruition?”

  Gently, I said, “I did not intend to come to you for aid in this matter.”

  “But you are here.”

  “And I cannot leave without concluding a deal I did not seek to make.” I let a hint of blame into my tone.

  Sadness dimmed his eyes.

  “Sure, my mind was not calm as I sat down to meditate and I forgot to place all the protections, but you intervened of your own will. Your motive is what’s skewed.”

  He conveyed remorse as he said, “I could not help myself. The opportunity was irresistible.”

  The turnabout in his demeanor was making me suspicious. Perhaps he was being “cooperative and warm” to gain concessions from me.

  “You must admit,” he added, “my aid is more ideal to the achievement of your initial goal. My own offering is even more complete than your plan.”

  I sighed. Back to that. I didn’t have any trust in his offer.

  “It is the influence of Menessos that has made this decision so difficult for you. You can see that, can’t you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So wipe that slate clean, Persephone. Give me a chance.”

  “A chance to what?”

  “To prove myself to you, that you might find faith in my aid, and in my intentions.”

  “What do you propose?”

  He smiled broadly and offered me his hand.

  I gauged him. “Is this going to cost me?”

  “Only a little more time.”

  How much time had passed in the real world? Getting out of this anytime soon wasn’t going to happen anyway. I slipped my hand into his.

  Immediately, my stomach gave a flip and the decrepit structure whooshed into a spin that swirled the darkness with lighter colors. The dizziness hurt and I grabbed Creepy around the waist. When the spin ceased as abruptly as it had begun, all those paler colors grew solid into a new environment.