Making it worse was the fact that there was little time left before the dawn.
They crossed the house of the theater, seeing several chairs toppled and a table overturned. She’s looking for a weapon, he thought. The metal furniture would require more time than she had to tear it apart.
They arrived in the backstage area where Vinny had earlier sat on duty. The door to the Erus Veneficus’s suite was open. Smoke was pouring out of it. Something was burning inside; golden light flickered within.
Menessos rushed up the steps. Goliath was on his heels.
As they charged across the room, it seemed everything was in flames. The room was destroyed anyway, furniture overturned and broken. Glass and scraps of fabric dotted the floor. The couch was in flames, as were the countertop and stools to the right, the curtains in the back. The stink of all that was burning filled his nostrils, but under it all, he smelled blood.
Beside him, Menessos slowed. A glance revealed Risqué lying behind the couch. Knowing Menessos would handle it, Goliath pressed on to the back, where Beverley had been sleeping.
The flames had not reached the bed. He threw back the covers and found it empty. He dropped to his knees to check beneath it. He scrambled up and threw back the closet door. He spun to the bathroom and nearly ripped the door from its hinges as he opened it. Not finding her, he rushed back to Menessos.
“She’s not here.”
The guards ran through the main door, each with a fire extinguisher in hand. They had the flames out in seconds.
“I’ll tend to Risqué,” Menessos said. “You get Ailo.” He called to one of the guards, “Get a doctor in here!” The guard nodded, clanging and clomping down the metal stairs.
Goliath didn’t leave. Instead, he grabbed a torn throw pillow, ripped off the rest of the top, and applied pressure to Risqué’s side with it.
Menessos cradled her head in his hand and stared into the half-demon’s face. “I should have had her slay them. Not bind them to me.” His gaze strayed to one of the barstools near the kitchen, to the splintered and jagged edge of the wooden leg that had broken off. “I cannot slay Ailo now that she is bound to me.”
“Hindsight,” Goliath said. “But you can use that binding to find Ailo or track her, can’t you?”
Menessos nodded.
“You find Ailo and let me tend Risqué,” Goliath said. “By the time I get her to the infirmary, you’ll have the information, and then we will go collect Beverley . . . and do what needs to be done.” He was no longer bound to Menessos; he could easily slay Ailo.
Menessos rose to his feet.
• • •
Liyliy had known by the exterior of the dingy little hotel that their driver had secured for them—a drab, blue-gray siding above brickwork—that she was not going to be staying in opulent accommodations for the day. She’d glared at Giovanni before entering. He’d said, “They will not search for us here.”
Now as she stood staring out the window at a world that was yet sleeping, she tried to think on the news she’d been given this night, but the last few hours before dawn seemed to pass so swiftly. The Death that awaited weighed on her like lead.
“Adam will keep us out of the light and make sure no one enters,” Giovanni assured her.
She glanced away from the window to their driver. Adam. She hadn’t known his name before. He was an older man, plain, trying to dress younger than his years in a solid-colored sweatshirt and jeans. He’ll probably gag us to silence our waking screams as well.
“I am going for a walk,” she said. Her silken gown transformed into gray pants, a warm shirt, and a hooded coat. She worked to make the fabric lose its sheen in favor of a drab, aged dirtiness. Her shoes changed from sandals into full-covering slippers.
“Would you like company?” Giovanni offered.
The gruff sound of his voice grated on her nerves. “No. I will return shortly.” She shut the door behind her. Leaving the parking lot for the sidewalk, she turned left, heading toward a place called Family Dollar. The air was cold, but it felt good inside her lungs. She imagined it freezing all the little emotions in her heart, and when she breathed out, forcefully, she hoped those feelings were expelled with the air.
She could not afford even a small sentimental notion for Meroveus. She would walk until she was certain that he had been purged from her thoughts . . . or she would burn in the rising sun. For if she could not release this mawkishness, she could never achieve her vengeance.
When the darkened store was well behind her, her phone rang.
She thought it would be Giovanni insisting she return . . . but it was Ailo.
“Yes, Sister?”
“Liyliy!” Ailo’s voice was strained, hurried and breathless. “I have the girl. I’m outside the haven. I don’t know what to do! I don’t know where to go.”
Her words tumbled out so fast, Liyliy could hardly understand them. When they registered, she stopped in her tracks. “You have the girl and have fled the haven?”
“Yes, yes! Menessos will soon discover my deceit. He’ll use his binding to find me or compel me back. The girl roused, but she struggled and I wrapped her up in the telavivum. Now she won’t wake.”
“You wrapped her in your living web?”
“Yes. I had to keep her from screaming.”
“Did you read her?”
“No. There’s been no time. When I fled she was cocooned in fabric.”
Liyliy’s mind was racing. “You haven’t killed her, have you? She breathes yet?”
Ailo snapped, “Yes, she is breathing!”
With the power this child allegedly possessed, wrapping her in the strange fabric that clothed them was dangerous . . . no. Magic wrapped in magic. It might be the only thing keeping Ailo safe at the moment. “Have you unwrapped her fully?”
“No. Maybe I should. Maybe then she’d wake—”
“No! Ailo, whatever you do, do not unwrap her. In fact, make sure she is covered up as much as possible. Do not touch her bare flesh. Do not read her. Do you understand me? It is very important that you do not touch her or unwrap her.”
“But, Sister, if she wakes, she could break this binding from me.”
“No, Ailo. Do not risk it.”
“I would not have to worry that Menessos would compel my return.”
Liyliy hesitated. “Ailo.” She used the tone that said she was the dominant one.
“I need your help. Please, please. Say you are coming. Say you will keep Menessos from luring me back.”
“I am coming, Ailo.”
“Promise that together we will make her awaken, so I will be free.”
Liyliy realized Ailo had not mentioned their other sister. “What about Talto?”
“She is yet within the haven. We must save her.”
She sympathized with Talto’s predicament, but now that the child was out of the haven, this was Liyliy’s one chance and she had to make it count. “Where are you?”
“I’ve kept out of sight as much as I could, but carrying the child and having to stay to the shadows is making progress slow. I am walking north-northwest on . . . East Third Street. Do you know this city? Where can I go and meet you?”
Liyliy did not know the city well, but she had seen it well from the sky. North-northwest . . . to the north were a series of parks. “Do you see trees before you? A grassy area?”
“Yes. But bare trees give little cover.”
“Go toward the lake, Ailo. There are benches and monuments there. Find somewhere to hide until I arrive.”
“Hurry, Sister.” Ailo hung up.
Liyliy placed the cell phone into her pocket and called upon the cursed owl within her. The quicksilver retreated into a thick cuff around her left ankle. The phone dangled from a silken pocket attached to the anklet. She screamed and fell to her knees as her body reconfigured itself, grew in size and sprouted feathers. When the form was complete—save the scarring and injuries—she took to the sky, heading back into the city she h
ad moments ago fled.
Though her owl eye saw better in the dark, her field of vision was markedly decreased, and not being able to call on her aura in the same way made judging distances—and landings—tricky.
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
Johnny and Mountain lugged the broken tabletop into the garage, then out the man-door, and leaned it against the back of the garage. It was still very dark and cold outside. The sun wouldn’t rise until about seven twenty. “What witches are coming?” Johnny asked as he and Mountain returned to the kitchen.
“I’m not sure,” Demeter said. She was standing at the sink watching Red, who sat unmoving as she had been for hours. “I called the High Priestess. I told her to bring at least two witches with her. She will choose wisely.”
He grabbed the broom and dustpan and began sweeping up the splinters and wood debris. “What exactly will you do?”
“You ever hear the old witch saying, ‘To Know, To Do, and To Be Silent’?”
“Nope,” he said.
“It’s a good policy.”
Johnny kept sweeping. He glanced up when she didn’t elaborate. “That ‘be silent’ part means you’re not going to tell me.”
“Nope,” she mimicked him.
He pulled the dustpan off the broom and handed it to Mountain, then switched and gave the big man the broom. Johnny knew he could crouch to hold the dustpan more easily than either of the two people with him.
When that chore was done, Johnny dumped the pan into the garbage and Mountain started sweeping the area near the door. Johnny joined him, watching him push the fragments and pieces into a pile. When they were done, there were footsteps on the front porch followed by a brisk knock on the door.
“Demeter,” Johnny called as he carried both the broom and dustpan to the kitchen. “They’re here.”
She passed him in the hall as Mountain answered the door. Johnny dumped the dustpan a second time, then returned to the doorway so he could see what was going on without going too far from Red.
Though Demeter’s back was turned to him, he could immediately feel tension radiating off her.
Mountain had plodded into the living room to be out of the way, but the women weren’t chattering happy greetings. It could have been the early hour or the situation with Red sobering the moment, but that wouldn’t explain the silent hostility at the other end of the hall.
He recognized the pretty witch in front as Hunter Hopewell, the new High Priestess of the Cleveland Covenstead. He knew her because Lycanthropia had played at the Hallowe’en Witches’ Ball, her first coven event with her new title. She’d flirted heavily with him at the gig before she’d realized he was with Persephone.
Beside her was a witch with long, straight white hair. Vilna-Daluca—an Elder witch who was far from being a cookie-cutter copy of Oz’s Glinda the Good Witch of the South. He’d last seen her when she crossed paths with him and Red at the police station in Valley City. The agents from SSTIX had taken them there to question them about events on the shores of Lake Erie. Though Vilna had gotten Red out of there pronto, she hadn’t exactly done so out of friendship. According to what Red had told him, Vilna blamed her for another witch’s death. The dead witch—Xerxadrea—was Vilna’s cousin or something. And she had left him sitting in the police station.
Last was a witch who wore her white hair in a bun atop her head. This one, however, didn’t have a title. She was Lydia, the witch who’d sold this farmhouse to Red a few years back. He remembered her from when the witches put wards up around the property. She and Demeter had some kind of unsavory history.
That explained the rigidity in Demeter’s shoulders.
“Ladies . . . ” he said, gaining the attention of all of them.
“Hey, I know you,” Hunter said. “One day you’re in a rock band . . . the next you’re the Domn Lup.” Her smile was friendly—but not more than that.
“Yeah.” He would have preferred she not bring that up, but since she had, and since his status should be respected by these witches, he did not hesitate. “You’re all here to help Red, right?” He looked from Demeter to Lydia and back.
“Of course.” Hunter nodded. No one else spoke.
He crossed his arms and let each of these women see his defensive concern. “Then, let’s get some things straight. According to Red, her last encounter with Vilna didn’t exactly reek of friendship.” He looked Vilna-Daluca squarely in the eye. “I want her safe, so I’m not sure I want you involved.”
Vilna started forward. “Hear me, Wolf King—”
Either the belligerence in her tone or Johnny’s statement must’ve triggered something in Demeter. She sidestepped into Vilna’s path, blocking her.
“The fact is that the Eldrenne is dead because of her! I have my opinions about Persephone and I’m entitled to them, but the High Priestess asked me to come. I am honor bound to do what I can to assist, an’ it harm none, and that’s exactly what I’ll do.”
The hall was silent for a moment, as Demeter shot a glance at Johnny that he took to mean she hadn’t known about those particular details he’d revealed. She faced Vilna and said, “Make oath to that.”
Vilna-Daluca tapped her lip, thinking for a moment. She stepped around Demeter and strode to the kitchen, walking along the counter with her palm hovering above it. She stopped before a drawer, opened it, and removed a knife. After deftly slicing both of her index fingertips and rinsing the blade in the sink, she used the bleeding wounds to draw on her palms with the blood. She made an F shape, with the bars normally horizontal turned downward instead. She held them aloft for all to see.
“Ansuz grant power to my words! Vár, daughter of Asgard, handmaiden of Frigga, goddess of oaths, hear my vow this night! Erinyes, those who punish whosoever swears a false oath, hear my vow this night! Before these mighty witnesses, I say this: I have come to assist and aid Persephone Alcmedi in this predicament. All my actions, all my words, all my thoughts will be focused on that deed until I leave this house. May the Erinyes exact their wrath upon me if I break this oath.” Vilna lowered her arms. “Satisfied?”
“Quite,” Demeter said.
“And secondly,” Johnny cut in before anyone else could speak, “are you”—he pointed at Lydia—“and Demeter going to be able to keep this friendly?”
The two old women eyeballed each other. Neither spoke.
Hunter put her index finger in the air. “From here on out, I vow that if I ever make requests of witches to assist in a situation, I will not base them merely on rank”—she glared at Vilna—“and proximity.” She glared at Lydia. “I will, however, ask if there are any conflicts of interest I should know about.”
Johnny nodded approval of that vow. “Demeter?”
“It’s my granddaughter in need. Of course I’ll keep it friendly.”
“Lydia?” Hunter asked.
“I wouldn’t have come if I didn’t intend to help Persephone.”
“Good enough for me,” Johnny said. “Now, come this way. She’s back here.”
As they moved from the hall, Lydia caught sight of the damage. Hunter must have been blocking her view of it before. “What on earth happened to this floor? And the stair railing?”
Everyone stopped.
Demeter turned. “I’ll explain later. We’ve already spent enough time talking. Persephone needs our help.” She started for the kitchen again.
Johnny stepped out of their way to give them room in the kitchen. Demeter explained that she believed Persephone had been stuck in a meditation—for several hours.
While she spoke, Hunter and Vilna listened and observed Red’s position. Lydia, however, strolled around the kitchen with her thin arms crossed, noting the damage to the floor, the walls, the phone. She looked irritated.
“What do you have in mind?” Hunter asked.
“Sorcery,” Demeter said.
“Unwise,” Lydia countered.
Demeter shot her a nasty look but before anyone could rebuff Lydia’s comment, Vilna-Dal
uca cut in. “What would you suggest, Demeter?”
“If you three can triangulate a ley line flow between you, then you can create a secondary barrier, and I can walk through her meditation barrier.”
“Very unwise,” Lydia said.
Demeter spun on the old woman. “If you don’t want to do anything but cast your negativity around, you can cart your ass back home and I’ll put the man inside the circle.” She gestured at Johnny.
Lydia looked him up and down. “So it’s safe to say you don’t have a problem with wærewolves anymore?”
“Lydia,” Vilna warned.
Lydia ignored her. “Or is he acceptable because he’s your granddaughter’s man? Or because he’s not bothered by our magic? Maybe it’s because he’s especially powerful, being the Domn Lup and all.”
Demeter’s face was vibrantly red as she stepped closer to Lydia. Johnny had seen her worked up before, but not like this. Hunter looked from the older women to Johnny and her expression was clearly asking: Now what?
He shrugged. He hadn’t known Demeter ever had a problem with wærewolves; she’d always been good to him.
“Ladies.” Vilna put a hand on each of their shoulders. “Leave the past in the past because presently, we have to save Persephone.” She squeezed Lydia’s shoulder. “Are you capable of utilizing sorcery?”
“I can,” she answered defensively.
“Are you willing to use it?”
Lydia hesitated. “Yes.”
“Do I need to request an oath of you to keep you focused on the task at hand?”
Lydia pouted. “No.”
“Then we proceed with Demeter’s plan.” Vilna removed her hands from the other woman’s shoulders and nodded at Demeter. “Go on.”
Demeter stepped away from the Elder and stood before Persephone. For a long minute the room was silent.
“Demeter?” Hunter finally dared.
“She’s beginning to fade.”
“What?” Johnny asked, pushing closer.
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