Vicious Circle

by Linda Robertson

  “Yeah. It’s like his gift of the iPod. It kept me from seeing or hearing things that wouldn’t have happened if I’d been watching or listening. If I’m there, watching and listening…then he’ll behave.”

  She was so awesome. “Yeah. That’s exactly right. Are you okay with that?”

  Beverley grinned. “You were going to go out and take on a vampire for my mom. And for me. If I can help you out by simply showing up…that’s easy.”

  I hugged her.

  “Theo will change,” I said again, pulling back. “I don’t want you to be freaked out by it—”

  “Mom didn’t want me to see her change, but I always wanted to.”

  “It is scary, Beverley.”

  “I’ll do it, Seph. I want to help.” She kicked her feet from under the covers, ready to go, just like that. “I think it’ll be cool.”

  I couldn’t help but admire her. “It’s very serious in a circle. No giggling, okay?”

  “Right.” Her face was earnest. “I get to stand in a circle with witches, wærewolves, and vampires? Wow. Cool.” Then she hesitated. “What about…her?”

  She meant Vivian. I said, “When this is over, the vampires will be taking her with them. She’s going to get what she deserves for what she’s done.”

  Beverley’s spine straightened slowly. “Okay.”

  I went downstairs. Everyone was in the hall or the living room, but my focus remained on my purpose. I stepped out onto the front porch. The night air was swirling and cold, like my thoughts. But the chill I felt was deeper, in the marrow of my bones and down in the core of me that was so deep it was in another world beyond the boundaries of physics.

  “Menessos.” I didn’t shout. I didn’t have to. He was already watching me through the open window of his vehicle. The door opened, and he slid out smoothly and came striding toward the house. He clearly didn’t like being “summoned” as such, but we both understood why I wasn’t going out there again. Before, I’d left my safety to rescue Beverley because I had thought they had taken her. Now I had what he wanted. Goliath was, of course, following—the expression on his face was guarded, but not guarded enough. I had the distinct feeling that they had been talking about me.

  I shifted my weight. There was no time for dancing around the subject. I met Menessos’s eyes and asked, “Would you and Goliath stand in my circle?”

  An infinitesimal change to the tilt of his head signaled surprise. His perfectly proportioned features suddenly displayed a wonder that was altogether foreign to his face. “You’re serious.”

  “I don’t want Theo to die.”

  “But are you prepared to invite Goliath and myself into your home?”

  “That’s what I came out here to do.”

  Amazement silenced him.

  Goliath said, “Why?”

  “Ritual says you, Goliath, have to ask her to forgive you during the rite.”

  He grinned. “Oh, so you need me? I thought you wanted to kill me.”

  “Theo needs you.” I wasn’t giving him the satisfaction. “If I hadn’t screwed up in the first place—and if you weren’t such an arrogant, murdering bastard—we wouldn’t be here. Either of us. So how about we play nice for just a little bit, and then everybody goes away happy?”

  “I’m not sure you’re qualified to understand what will make me happy.”

  “I have the stake, Vivian, and the book. I can figure out what will make you unhappy. The forgoing of that should, if you’re wise, make you happy.”

  “Fine. What’s in it for us? Our assistance has a cost.”

  “I already said that Vivian, the stake, and the book are yours once the ritual is complete, but if I invite you in, you have the guarantee of knowing there will be no way for me to block you from taking them and that I intend no double-cross.”

  “You’re not offering me anything new.”

  “I’ll be giving up the safety of my home’s inherent protection. That’s the price I’m willing to pay to save Theo.” I faced Menessos. The decision would be his. “The things you fear the most are all inside my house, and despite your intimidation tactic of calling my wards petty—”

  “I believe I referred to them as paltry,” Menessos corrected.

  “Paltry. Nevertheless, the things you desire are ultimately out of your reach, unless I bring them out or I invite you in.”

  “The stake is inside. Being uncertain of who may pop out of a hiding spot and stake us does not inspire our cooperation.”

  If I was inviting him inside, it made little difference if his beholder buddies had the opportunity to grab the stake from a location outside. “Then the stake will leave the wards. I’ll take it out into the cornfield.”

  He considered it.

  Before he could speak, I added, “But in exchange for that guarantee from me, I want a guarantee from you. A guarantee that no one in my house will be harmed.” I paused. “That includes Vivian—at least, until she’s off my property. Do what you want to her, but not here. Not where Beverley can see or hear it.”

  Menessos repeated it all back to me. “We participate and help your friend recover. Then you’ll surrender freely these things I fear most, as you put it. Vivian, the book—which I am sure you must be loath to part with—and you’ll place the stake outside?”

  Parting with my ward-defenses was more loathsome to me than parting with the Codex, but Nana wouldn’t have agreed with me. “That’s acceptable.”

  “I will send an envoy for the stake tomorrow.”

  I bobbed my head in agreement.

  “Very well. I promise no one inside will be harmed—”

  “Promise no one here will be harmed in any way, inside of the house or outside of it,” I pressed.

  “I will make oath to that, you will make invitation, and we will wait on the porch, not entering your home until after the stake is removed.” He rubbed his hands together. “This agreement seems more equitable than the siege I had expected this evening.”

  What the hell had he been planning?

  He raised his right hand, palm up, and slid his sleeve up halfway to his elbow. With the nail of his left-hand forefinger, he made a slice over the vein in his forearm. Blood welled up instantly, dark and syrupy, pouring in a thick stream over his skin. He pushed through my ward, setting off the alarm in my head. I deactivated it with a thought. He wiped his left hand over the blood and smeared it over the posts holding up my porch roof and across the tread of the first step. “By my blood, then, no one in your house will be harmed, either by me or Goliath or any other under my control or influence.”

  Behind me, at the screen door, I heard Nana gasp.

  “Agreed.” I swallowed, hard, knowing what I had to do next.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Menessos, Goliath. Please…come inside.”

  Menessos put his foot onto the first tread, unhurriedly, then stepped up onto my porch. I wanted to retreat, to backpedal to the door and inside. I shouted at myself mentally: Do not show him fear! Even if you are afraid, you’ll fight it with every breath, every beat of your heart! Fear isn’t weakness, but giving in to it is. My feet were planted between the vampire and my front door.

  He stood there expectantly, gazing into my eyes, though I stared at his lightly bearded square chin. In a fluid motion, Menessos glided right up to me, invading my personal space. I retreated, and he moved with me at the same speed and distance, as if we were dancing. Then my back was against the porch roof support post.

  In that instant, I learned something: people’s fears are odd things. Some people won’t go boating or swimming because of a fear of the water. Some people won’t wear turtlenecks or anything tight at their throats. Some people avoid big dogs. I’d always attributed these kinds of things to past-life events, like drowning, hanging, being attacked by animals—whatever would account for the fear. I’d never discovered a specific fear of my own like that—until now, as I stood with my back pinned against a solid post. I wondered if a past life of min
e had ended with a post at my back and kindling under my feet.

  “Thank you, Miss Alcmedi, for having faith in my word.”

  “You’re welcome.” It sounded a lot more confident than I felt.

  “You’re an uncommon woman.”

  “What does that mean?” It sounded like praise, but a vampire’s praise was a worrisome thing.

  “People generally reside in one of two categories. Either the group who think vampires are…cool”—he made it sound like an expletive—“and offer up thoughtless invitations incessantly, or those with a terror of vampires so intense they offer only intolerance and hate. Most of both categories are imbeciles, and we would never seek their companionship.” He touched me, lightly, to smooth my hair. I could not tell if his touch was cold or calloused, but I wondered. “But you…Persephone.” He whispered my name, and I felt the warmth of a summer breeze on my bare skin. “You are intelligent and brave. If only there were more like you…”

  From the doorway, Johnny cleared his throat, a sound that ended with a prolonged low growl. I was suddenly embarrassed, angry with myself, and angry that Menessos would try seduction while my friend lay dying for our help. “There is little time,” I said, gesturing toward the door.

  Menessos whispered, “Vampires have forever.”

  “Theo doesn’t.”

  He made a gracious gesture of capitulation. “Remove the stake from your home, out the back egress, please.”

  “Wait here.” I could have given Johnny a signal and he would have seen that it got done, but I wanted to get away from Menessos. “Excuse me.” I slipped past him and went inside, forcing Nana to back up to allow me through. Johnny moved only enough to be out of the way, surely to keep an eye on the vampires.

  In the kitchen, I lifted the lid on the stake’s storage box to be sure it was still inside. Such a remarkably common-looking thing; a muddy stick. The sharpened tip gave it an ominous flair, though. And it was pale, the wood’s tip, like a fang. Nana touched my shoulder, and I jumped. My muscles were so tight. “When this leaves the house, we have no defense against him,” I said.

  “And we’ll need none.”

  I looked at Nana; something strange in her expression told me that her words were not simply stating her hopes as if they were pep-talk facts. She must have seen my confusion on my face. “He made a blood oath to you.”

  “He what?” Celia nearly shrieked.

  They shared a long look that I couldn’t read. Then Nana explained, “He drew his own blood, marked your porch with it, and swore to our safety.”

  Celia watched me, expression curious. “What?” I asked.

  “What did you say to him?” Celia asked back.

  Had I done something wrong? “That I’d remove the stake from the house and, after we do the ritual, I’d let him take Vivian and the book away. He’ll send someone for the stake tomorrow.”

  “Rudimentary deal-making. What else?” Celia pressed.

  “I asked him for a guarantee. He didn’t offer it.”

  “Well.” She put her hands on her hips. “Whatever it was, you impressed him enough to make him draw his own blood. They don’t give up their precious fluid for any common reason.”

  “Such an oath is more binding than any legal contract ever written,” Nana added. “And, so long as you hold up your end, more enforceable.”

  “Enforceable how?”

  “Later,” Nana said. “We haven’t much time.”

  “Right.” So he was impressed. That explained why he had flirted with me. “I have to get this off the property. I’ll be right back.” After closing its lid, I lifted the box and slipped into the garage, then outside through what my Realtor had called the “man-door” in the rear of the garage. In the yard, my shoes made a shushing sound in the grass. There was little light, but I knew my way, knew every little hill and dip of the yard, so my steps remained firm and confident. The box was much heavier than the object it held, and I switched hands halfway through the yard. At the end of the grass, where the cornfield began, I sat the box down and slid it in between the stalks. I turned back to the house. It seemed so far, so small and bright with all the lights on. Everyone inside was waiting for me.

  If I wanted to flee, now was the time.

  The sound of a stick snapping caught my attention. Beholders in the field.

  It was a good thing I didn’t want to flee.

  Still, the thought that people were out there, dangerous people, made my back feel exposed—like I was it—so I jogged back to the house.

  That was almost funny: beholders were dangerous enough to send me jogging back into the house where their masters were waiting for me.

  * * *

  Everyone was starting to assemble upstairs when I returned. Dr. Lincoln was with Theo, as were Celia, Erik, and Beverley. Nana was climbing the steps. Johnny motioned me on through the hall, and I joined him at the bottom of the steps. Menessos and Goliath remained on the porch.

  I opened the screen door. “It’s time.”

  Menessos eased toward me like water flowing to the shore. The metaphysical barrier that restrained his kind from places into which they were not invited seemed like a thick, transparent membrane that I could see stretching as he pressed his hand to it. I’d already said the magic words. The porch wasn’t technically “inside.” Now all he had to do was push.

  His eyes met mine with the confidence of a king. Of Arthur. Too late, my brain screamed at me that I had met his gaze. But there was no power to it, no call in it. Just a man looking at me, into me, as if he’d just found what he’d been searching for. He was entering my home. The vampire was breaking the seal to my private space. Suddenly, this seemed very sexual.

  He hesitated, the barrier stretched to the point of bursting. I felt it, felt it like it was part of me pressed intimately against the contours of his body. A hairbreadth more, and it would be gone….

  People are sure air exists; we breathe it. We fill balloons with it. We feel it on our faces when the wind blows. We can’t see it, but we know it is there. In that instant, I was certain barriers existed—protections unseen, magical and mysterious, remarkable and real. I felt this barrier burst like a soap bubble, felt the tingly flick of its particles fading as the protective shield’s integrity evaporated.

  Once the unseen dam was breached, everything it had held back came flooding in. Dread, like thick and velvety foam, poured across my floor and drifted against my leg. It would take a full weekend of witchy cleansings to be rid of it.

  “Theo is upstairs,” I said as Goliath stepped in, his entrance lacking his master’s ceremony.

  “I want to see Vivian.” Menessos strode toward my kitchen.

  I didn’t like this. “No. After.”

  He didn’t stop. I followed him. Menessos turned the corner and vanished from my view. “Awaken,” I heard him say. My pace increased. But I stopped short when I too turned the corner. It felt as though the air, that thick velvet dread, were being slowly crammed down my throat to suffocate me.

  Menessos stood before her. I could not see his expression. Vivian’s face was white. Her eyes were as wide as half-dollar coins. Trembling claimed her arms, and her chest heaved with fast, shallow breaths. “Vivian,” he whispered. His index finger slid under her chin, and his touch jolted her like an electric shock. “Vivian.” This time the whisper sounded sad. He grabbed her chin roughly. She tried to pull away but couldn’t. “Betrayer!”

  Tears showered from her eyes.

  Whatever he did to her, I figured she deserved. She’d betrayed him. She’d murdered Lorrie. But his punishment wasn’t going to be doled out here. “Menessos,” I said.

  He turned swiftly, as if he hadn’t known I was there. A single bloody tear had fallen from his eye.

  I retreated two steps. He mourned this vengeance?

  He turned back to Vivian and ripped easily through the clothesline cord. His motions were fierce and violent, yet gentle, like those of a lover who rips your clothes off but ca
resses your skin with soft adoration. We’d tied her arms down at her sides and then roped her to the chair separately, so I knew she wouldn’t be immediately free. “You took an oath—” I began.

  He wheeled around. “One I will keep, Miss Alcmedi. But Vivian will not leave my sight. She may not be in the circle, but she will be near me.” He turned to her. “Won’t you?” He lifted her to standing position, and her weak limbs faltered as he embraced her in his arms. Her eyes above the gag remained wide, pleading with me.

  I shook my head at her.

  Vivian crumbled, sobbing. Menessos caught and lifted her, then faced me. “Let us go.”

  “Wait a minute—”

  “Vivian will remain thusly bound and outside your circle. And”—he fixed her with a stern expression—“she will behave. She will witness a real witch at work for once.”

  I hesitated. Vivian was a real witch. He was insulting her. The mixed love and loathing he displayed for her confused me, but I’d have to sort it out later. In the hallway, I led him back to where Johnny and Goliath stood glowering at each other. It wouldn’t have surprised me to find two puddles on the floor, proof of a pissing contest.

  I said, “C’mon.” They followed me. At the squeaky step, Goliath—bringing up the rear—stopped and bounced on it. I turned back at the top of the steps and looked daggers at him. He grinned.

  Now was not the time to let him distract me. I hoped that in the circle, with Beverley participating, he would behave himself.

  “Okay. Beverley, I need you to leave for just a second, while I cleanse the space.” She’d been sitting with Theo and obediently left.

  Nana came to me at the doorway and produced a necklace from her pocket, which she offered to me. “Wear this,” she said.