Hallowed Circle

by Linda Robertson

  For a wære, sexual abstinence was ridiculous. Their libidos were stuck on hyperdrive—and he’d been denying himself, mastering himself. Or taking a lot of cold showers waiting for me to wake up.

  Well, I had fully roused, and so had my yearning for physical satisfaction. Long ago, while in emotional pain, I dealt with a broken heart by convincing myself that my libido had overdosed on sleeping pills and would never get me into such hurtful trouble again. But my desires had awakened from the long coma and now seemed intent on making up for lost time. Problem was … had Johnny awakened them or had my stain been the blaring alarm clock?

  The rain-wet waves of his hair beckoned and my fingers strayed to those misplaced tendrils at his brow, caressing them away, lifting the cedar and sage scent of him to my nostrils. I wanted to touch so much more of him. Right now I yearned to—

  No. He deserved my anger for the danger he’d put Nana and Beverley in!

  I almost groaned aloud in frustration. For the last two weeks, that had been the biggest battle in my personal mental war about Johnny.

  No one was harmed, my conscience reminded me. That was true—Nana was indignant about the whole thing and Beverley had spent her “hostage” time playing video games so she seemed no worse for the incident—but that wasn’t the point. They could have been harmed, even killed, due to Johnny’s deceit.

  And I was also still waiting for him to explain to me how he’d managed an at-will partial transformation. He’d turned his hands to claws during his brief confrontation with Menessos. A wære just shouldn’t be able to do that.

  Under any other circumstances, it meant a wære had gotten close to a witch’s spell energies and stirred up an incomplete transformation. Incompletes invariably lost their minds and never got them back. They remained stuck in a state between human and animal, crazed and vicious. Because of this, police officers were expected to shoot them on sight.

  In addition to that un-wære-like talent, Johnny always kept his human sensibilities while transformed. He was unique in many ways.

  We’d been becoming more than “just friends” since saving the life of our friend Theodora, but when he pulled a fast switcheroo with the stake, I learned he was willful to the point of deceit if he thought it necessary. I couldn’t fully trust him.

  And furthermore, if he was deserving of trust and discovered I was still stained and would forever be controllable by Menessos, could he trust me?

  The Wedjat tattoos sharpened as he squinted slightly, his focus intensifying. Surely he detected my pheromones. Desire. Anger. A scent cocktail that a wære would crave.

  Our mutual sexual attraction was trying ardently to overwhelm rational thought. I clung to my shield—made of trust issues that should keep us divided and that fear in me that was unsure which part of me spawned this deep yearning—but my grip weakened more each day.

  “Such a sad smile from my Lustrata,” he whispered. He stood, hands sliding up my legs, hips, then under the flannel to rest at my waist. The aroma of cedar and sage grew stronger, then as his hands came to my neck I detected something else.

  “I smell metal.”

  He smirked. “It’s from the guitar strings.”

  “I never noticed it before.”

  The damn stain had amped my sense of smell too.

  It was a vaguely familiar scent to me, now that he named it. I’d tried to learn to play on an acoustic guitar as a teen, and I’d picked up a dorm neighbor’s electric one occasionally when the weather kept us all inside. I knew some chords; that was all.

  Johnny leaned in, ready to kiss me.

  Erik burst from the field at a run. When he saw us, he stopped, realized what he was interrupting, and said a quiet, “Oh. Uh. Sorry.”

  “Well?” Johnny looked at Erik.

  “Whoever they were, they were fast. Practically flew outta here.”

  Flew? My spine stiffened.

  Johnny’s hands squeezed me reassuringly. “The scent?”

  “Nothing I could identify,” Erik said. “You?”

  Johnny shook his head. “No.”

  “I’m going to increase the perimeter of my wards,” I said.

  “Good idea,” Johnny said to me, then to Erik, “You okay?”

  I slipped away from them and started gathering my cut stalks.

  “Just a spider bite,” Erik answered.

  “Aww,” Johnny teased, “little vampire-bug sink fangs into you?”

  “That spider,” Erik retorted, “was fucking mega-ginormous.”

  “Mega-ginormous?” I asked.

  “Beyond giant and enormous,” Erik replied.

  “He drums and makes up his own words,” Johnny said proudly.

  Erik snickered. “It is a word.”

  “Right,” we both said in response.

  Defending himself, Erik said, “It is! I saw it on the Web.”

  Poking fun at him, I said, “If that spider was named Charlotte and she was writing on her web, I hope you didn’t squash her.”

  “On the Internet,” Erik clarified.

  I turned to them with the stalks in one hand, the sickle in the other.

  “Holy Hecate,” Johnny said.

  “Huh?” Erik asked.

  “Look at her!” Johnny pointed.

  I turned to look behind me.

  “Not behind you—you,” he said, laughing at me. “You look like Hecate with her sickle and stalks.”

  “Yeah, right, because Hecate is always depicted in plaid flannel.” Switching subjects to one I knew they’d not ignore, I said, “You guys hungry?”

  “Of course,” Erik said, still rubbing at the spider bite. “What do you think we’re doing here?”

  “Yeah,” Johnny said. “Demeter promised to monitor the beef roast I put in for dinner and save some for us to eat after practice.” He grinned broadly as he joined me and picked up a few stalks from the ground that I’d missed.

  Though I’m a happy vegetarian, I know wæres need red meat. “I knew something was up with all that meat.”

  “If you want to know about the meat that’s up—” Johnny whispered.

  “I don’t need to hear about your kielbasa.”

  “Okay, so rather than an oral description, you’d prefer actual hands-on experience with my ‘ball-sa.’ I’m good with that.”

  Even after a few weeks of this kind of innuendo, I still marveled at how quickly he could invent it. No clever reply came to mind. I went for the mundane. “How was practice? Got ‘Debauchery’ worked out?”

  “Yup. So much so, we headed out to an open jam night at Peabody’s.” Johnny slipped half the stalks from my grip. We started walking around to the front of the house.

  “What did the crowd think?”

  “Kicked ass!” Erik said.

  Approaching the porch, I pulled the lengths of twine I’d pre-cut from my pocket. Johnny passed his portion of fodder-shocks off to Erik so he could assist in the tying. Of course he had to put his front to my back and reach around me to “properly” bind the stalks to the porch posts. His body and his hands were very warm against mine.

  “I didn’t know you were familiar with Hecate,” I said.

  “Any goddess with a fondness for big black dogs is one I like,” he replied.

  I directed his rearranging of the few pumpkins I had, making sure I got a good view of Johnny’s backside as I did, then announced, “All right. We can head inside now.”

  “What if I want to put more than my head inside?” Johnny asked, his voice lowering.

  “Will you two just get a room already?” Erik complained, pushing past us with a groan.

  Johnny laughed at him; I blushed and started to follow but Johnny held me back.

  “Erik, there’s ointments in the upper cabinet of the bathroom,” I called, indicating the half-bath under the stairs. “Something there will be good for spider bites.”

  While Erik went to review my supplies, Johnny leaned in, saying, “That’s a good idea he has there, you know,” and g
ave me a soft kiss.

  “That’s eighty-three to go,” I said. I’d promised him a hundred kisses, so I was keeping count.

  “I thought I had eighty-seven left?” He opened the door and we strolled toward the kitchen.

  “Nope. Eighty-three.”

  Nana was still upstairs with Beverley. I dropped my flannel overshirt on the bench back and slid in at the dinette; I expected Johnny to go for the food. Instead, he slid in beside me, forcing me to scoot over to accommodate him.

  “You’re full of surprises,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows and putting his arm on the back of the bench nonchalantly. He was so comfortable in his own skin. I envied that. He dipped his chin down and managed to make it seem as if he was looking up at me. It was very male, very sexual, and I knew another sexual allusion was coming. “Your running impressed me tonight, and I must confess,” his voice dropped low again, “knowing you have such strong thighs and a penchant for moving fast makes me very excited.”

  It took an effort to keep from visually checking his groin to see just how excited.

  He sat up straight. “But that”—he pointed at my face—“we have to work on.”

  “Huh?”

  “Everything you think shows on your face. To be the Lustrata, you’re going to have to hide those thoughts, disguise those doubts, and show no emotion.”

  My forehead bunched up.

  “See? Again, you react to my words. It’s not like I don’t want you to react to my words, but if you’re facing an enemy, they’ll play you like a violin, just by seeing your expressions.”

  “Then I’ll wear a mask. Like Zorro. My secret identity will be safe.”

  “I’m serious.”

  Okay, so this must be Lesson One in filling the Lustrata’s shoes. “I understand, I just think hiding my emotions might become a habit that wouldn’t be good.”

  “As time goes on, you’ll probably end up with fewer wrinkles.”

  I hit him in the ribs.

  He chuckled. “I’m kidding.” He reached up and smoothed my hair. “Nothing, not even time, will mar your beauty in my eyes.”

  It was easy to shut down inside my own conflict. Giving in would complicate so many things. We had trust issues already. What about our separate expectations? I wasn’t sure what mine were, let alone his. And there was Beverley to consider. I was a role model for her now. My life was challenging enough already; adding to those worries unnecessarily was selfish. I needed to take care of Beverley and Nana, to get things in order for them before I opened myself to something selfish.

  “That’s my girl,” Johnny whispered. A wry twist took his lips and a wistful tilt of his head made him seem sad. “I knew your expression would go blank if I mentioned how your beauty affects me.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  He was taking it all wrong! “Johnny …”

  “What?” he asked. Practicing what he preached, he did not allow a single expectation to show in his expression. He was right. I did shut down if he complimented me.

  “Beverley needs me to be receptive to her. She’ll think I’m mad all the time if I show her nothing but blankness.” That had been my experience with Nana anyway.

  “First of all, Bev’s not an enemy. With her, don’t worry about it. And second, when she becomes a teenager, this ability will be your best ally. Trust me.”

  I shut my eyes when he said that word. “Trust.” His fingertips, callused from years of playing the guitar, slid over my bare arm. I smelled metal again. Winter could sleep away months. Spring could sprout everything anew, but my stain would never diminish. Nothing would ever be the same. How could I tell him the truth without losing him?

  My eyelids parted slightly and I nodded, watching his fingers work their way to my wrist.

  “We need to start some fight training too.”

  My spine stiffened and I met his Wedjat gaze seriously. “I can fight.”

  The white-gold hoops caught the light as he arched his brow dubiously. One was still missing from where Menessos had torn it out.

  “I’ve done my share of fighting,” I assured him.

  “Got a punching bag with my picture on it somewhere?”

  “Not yet,” I retorted. “In college.”

  “Oooo. Rough dates?”

  This was bringing up some memories I wasn’t particularly fond of, but he might as well know. “In college, I dated a man named Michael. His younger brother, Chris, was inadvertently turned wærewolf by a girlfriend he was trying to kennel. Chris was targeted by wære-haters and Michael resolved to do something about it. He enlisted my help. I used divination to evaluate risks and determine the best way to proceed, and I did the occasional spell to send negativity back to its human originator. Basically, we bullied the bullies back and they left Chris alone. It was all they would understand.”

  Johnny’s head bobbed up and down. “That’s been my experience with bullies.”

  “Word got around. Soon, we had all the campus wæres training together for self-defense—methods that took wære strength into consideration and made sure they wouldn’t severely hurt mere humans.”

  “Yeah, wasn’t that about the time that famous actor was outed as a wære when he defended himself a little too aggressively against the paparazzi?”

  “Right. That actor ended up serving time for manslaughter. Anyway,” I continued, “we even persuaded Ohio University to designate a dorm specifically for wære students and convinced those students that it was in their best interests to be together.”

  “But you aren’t wære …”

  “I took the self-defense classes along with them and I even acquired some conflict experience.”

  “Conflict experience?” He almost chuckled. “Sounds like a code phrase girls use for slumber parties or brownie points earned for returning home alive after shopping on Black Friday.”

  I poked him in the ribs again. “That’s sexist.”

  “No, that’s witty. Was this before Celia and Erik were turned?” Celia had been my roommate in college. Later, after they were married, Erik had started drumming for Johnny. That connection was how Johnny had originally started kenneling at my place.

  “Yeah. Michael and I were supposed to join them on that trip, but we broke up.”

  Peering sidelong at me, he asked in a sly tone, “He broke up with you or you broke up with him?”

  Giving my heart a quick reexamination in terms of that relationship, I decided it was all healed up. It didn’t hurt to talk about it. “The former.”

  “Ouch. Let me guess—he was an ass.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Duh. Standard post-breakup verbiage.”

  “Anyone that would hurt you must be an ass.”

  He was playing with my hair again. My cheeks began to warm.

  “Can I ask why you broke up?”

  With a heavy sigh, I gave myself over to the idea of sharing all my history. “Michael opened a second center in downtown Athens, without a word to me about it. I told him it bothered me he would do that. I just wanted to be kept in the loop, but he took it as if I meant he needed to clear things with me. One thing led to another. Within a few weeks, we not only broke up, but he fired me. He wound up with the woman he hired to replace me.”

  Johnny didn’t say anything, just gave my hand an affectionate squeeze.

  “I’ve always thought that if he and I had gone camping with Celia and Erik, perhaps with our training we could have saved them from being turned.”

  “Or you might have become wære too.”

  That wasn’t a thought I’d even entertain; I could have made a difference.

  “If that were the case,” he added, “you wouldn’t have a kennel in your basement and we’d never have met.”

  I didn’t say anything. It was true, but I couldn’t be glad Celia had been turned wære so that, years later, my path and Johnny’s could cross. Celia had wanted to be a mother so badly and being infected forced her to give up her dream of having children. I knew how devastating that was
for her.

  “So,” he went on. “When were you gathering your ‘conflict experience,’ exactly?”

  Ignoring the taunt, I replied, “About four years ago.”

  “Have you kept up with this training?”

  “No, but ‘out of practice’ isn’t the same as ‘untrained.’ ”

  Johnny leaned forward, face close to mine, eyes smoldering. “I say we should go upstairs. You can show me your moves and I’ll evaluate your strengths and weaknesses.”

  My reply mocked innocence. “There’s no room for sparring upstairs.”

  “Combat can happen anywhere,” he whispered seductively, sliding his body closer to mine.

  His wære libido howled to me, my stain, and any part of me that would listen. Heat flared all through me. My breathing sped up. I wanted him to kiss me, to take me upstairs.

  Get a grip on your hormones, girl! I scolded myself, but it didn’t work. Better yet, get a grip on his—

  “Anywhere,” he repeated. “On … hard … surfaces and soft ones. In wide open spaces, or … tight … places. You always need to be ready for an encounter.” He made an “encounter” sound like a lifetime of bliss.

  My resistance was kitten-weak. The only way to resolve it was to give in and see if it was me or the stain.

  I could almost feel his lips on mine—

  “Beverley is sleeping,” Nana announced, shuffling in wearing the thick terry robe that matched her pink fuzzy slippers. Erik came in behind her.

  Johnny rose quickly and in seconds, he and Erik began filling their plates.

  Nana sat in the spot Johnny had vacated and rubbed at her knees. Going up and down the steps was not good for her. I needed to do something about that.

  “Where did you rush off to today,” she grumbled, “or are you still being all mum about it?”

  “Oh, is something up?” Johnny inquired, emphasis on the word “up,” as he slipped his plate into the microwave.

  Nana did that on purpose—asking in front of Johnny, knowing the pressure of their combined curiosity would be impossible to stand against. Might as well tell them. “Today I was nominated to be in an Eximium for the title of Venefica Covenstead High Priestess.”