“I’ll do it,” he said softly.
“What?” I hadn’t even gotten to my usual spiel yet.
Johnny looked at me with the weight of the world in his eyes. “Your needs come first.”
My heart broke. This was changing him. I was changing him.
He said, “It’s the right thing for the right reason.”
• • •
Two hours later, I sat in church.
Not just any church. This was the Pilgrim Congregational Church. The interior was very theatrical with seating fanning out from a pulpit in one corner. Rounded arches rose to a central stained-glass dome, the space under it unbroken by supporting columns. For all its grandeur, it was practical, too. Lower walls could be raised into upper walls to open Sunday school rooms to the sanctuary and expand the seating. Johnny pointed out the historic pipe organ and the original Tiffany stained-glass windows flanking it. He concluded his little guided tour with a grand view from the balcony. I was speechless, but that was more due to the fact that the pews filling up below me on this Saturday afternoon were filling exclusively with waerewolves. It smelled like a forest in here.
“Why do they gather in a church?” I asked.
“No vamps. Any sanctified ground is magically protected. Vamps can’t be on your Covenstead grounds without permission, right?”
I nodded. “It’s a sacred space, set aside and protected by our magic. Christian churches, Islamic mosques, Jewish temples … they have inherent protections, too.”
“It’s kind of a tradition for waeres to meet here.”
“So do they own this place or rent it or what?”
He made a face. “They’ve worked out an agreement that benefits both parties.”
“Ahhh.” Meaning I wasn’t getting details I didn’t need. Fine with me.
There were perhaps sixty waerewolves assembled. I saw Celia and Erik, Theo. Hector sat in the back, Todd in front. The Harding twins sat in the middle of the right section, and the rows around them, unsurprisingly, were filled with young men. For a pair of waerewolves they sure had cougar opportunities.
“I’m going downstairs. When I start speaking, would you make your way down, so that when I call you, you can come forward?”
“Sure.” He had told me what his plan was, but neither of us would dare to predict how the waeres would react. Not even with double innuendo points on the line.
I sat in the balcony, waiting. Being in a church made me think of the Reverend Kline. I took the protrepticus out of my jeans pocket and flipped it over and over. Surely, with Xerxadrea dead, it was no longer functional. But one never knew. I kept it with me, but I hadn’t opened it yet. Nor had I figured out what to tell Goliath about his dead brother speaking to me from it. For now those answers could wait.
We were here to ask for help. According to the news, the body found inside the Botanical Gardens had not yet been identified. But it would be. Xerxadrea had warned me Vilna-Daluca would blame me. I couldn’t expect them to offer any aid, no matter what plans might have been in the works.
Minutes later, when the flow of people into the building had ebbed, Todd took to the stairs before the pulpit. He did not stand behind it like a pastor, but remained in front.
“Welcome. This gathering has been called by our new dirija, our Domn Lup, and your presence is noted by your signatures in the Book of the Ascribed. I will remind you that what is discussed here is pack business and goes no further than pack ears.” He gestured and Johnny came up the steps to join him. “And now, the Domn Lup.” Todd went back to sit in the front pew.
The silence that followed was probably a formal show of waere respect, but I’d seen Johnny take the stage to vast applause and screams of excitement. The quiet did not befit him as well.
He nodded to them. “Hello.” Pausing to draw a breath, a charming grin came to his face. “I trust that after last night’s festivities, none of you awoke with a hangover.”
It won him a few snickers.
“No wolf worth his howl ever admits to a hangover, right?”
Howls went up around the room. When they faded, Johnny began. “I called this meeting to tell you something, and I trust that you will be patient with me in the telling.” A few seconds ticked by as he seemed to decide on his wording. “The witches have a legend about a witch who will bring balance to this world. They call her the Lustrata. All of their lore confirms that she is real and active.”
I remembered I was supposed to go down and be ready. I left my seat and quietly descended, then waited in the back of the church, leaning against the wall.
“… in order to achieve that balance, she must make tough choices. And she has made some. She has chosen to align herself with both waerewolves and vampires. To charge both with managing their portion of balance. Each side must do their part.”
“Vamps can’t be trusted!” someone interjected.
Johnny regarded the man who had shouted. “A few weeks ago, I was in complete agreement with that statement.”
“Bah!” someone else shouted.
“I’m not saying I’ve done a full about-face on it, either. But I’ve seen a few things that have made me reconsider. That said, one thing I am a hundred percent certain of is that I trust the Lustrata. She has generated the loyalty of a most powerful vampire and—”
“We know who you mean!” the first man said. “And what she did to generate that loyalty!”
“Her blood!” another added.
Johnny wasn’t hassled by their outbursts. “The mundane humans cannot comprehend our world, so open your eyes, and see things as they are, not as the reporters see it. We are on the brink of a war, and you must hear this!” Johnny was many things, including a musician. He knew the value of silence, and when he stopped and let silence fall, it only served to emphasize his next words. “Her blood sealed his loyalty! ‘The Lord of Vampires will drink the Lustrata’s blood.’ That is what the vamp’s own bards wrote in the eighteenth century.”
News to me.
“She is aligned with the vampire who will rule them all, and she is aligned with me.”
Cammi Harding stood. I wasn’t sure she’d changed her clothes since last night. Perhaps her closet was filled with short skirts and shirts with plunging necklines. “How did she generate your loyalty?”
Johnny appraised her, and it wasn’t kind appraisal. “In ways you cannot.”
A few men howled their Neanderthalish approval.
“She has shown me loyalty and respect, and undeniable power. The Domn Lup acknowledges power.” He beckoned me forward.
My heart was thudding in my chest, but I walked toward him. Hell, I’ve strutted about in the stupidest shoes on the planet. I can walk up there in sneakers, no prob. As I passed certain rows, the growls weren’t hidden. Keep going.
“I present to you the Lustrata,” he said.
I surveyed the crowd as I stood one step below Johnny and saw hardened, unconvinced faces.
“We are on the brink of a war,” I said, “and I have asked your Domn Lup for aid.”
They were all worried now. If Johnny said, “Jump,” they were supposed to ask, “How high?” and immediately comply.
The gathered waerewolves fidgeted uncomfortably in their seats or made other restless moves. Cammi remained standing. She tossed her head and crossed her arms, deepening her cleavage.
“Tomorrow at dawn,” Johnny said, “the fairies are coming to dole out their vengeance upon a vampire. The vampires cannot defend their own in the sunlight. We have been asked to stand in and fight for them.”
The interjections that came were, “Fight for vampires? Are you out of your mind?” and, “Let his Beholders defend him!” and, “You can’t ask us to fight for vampires.”
“I have not,” Johnny interjected there, “asked you to do anything but gather here and listen.” That shut them up. “The Beholders will be there, but our future also teeters on this one sunrise.”
“Our future?” Cammi asked.
&
nbsp; “The fairies gave the witches an ultimatum: deliver the vampire or face war.”
Cammi sneered. “Let the witches fight!”
“I am,” I said.
“Right.” She moved into the aisle. “They’re sending just one little witch?” Something about church aisles made people move as if decorum were required, or so I thought. Cammi managed to stomp down the aisle in four-inch heels. “Their commitment seems lacking.”
My chin leveled. “I am the Lustrata.”
Cammi stopped, even with the first pew.
I wouldn’t risk touting the aid of witches who weren’t likely to show up. I just hoped none of the waeres knew the witches were divided on the subject of supporting me. “Will you be there?” I asked Cammi.
She didn’t answer, but she clearly didn’t want to have to rise to that challenge. She might get dirty. Scuff her shoes. Break a nail.
“If this war happens,” Johnny went on, “it will spill into the life of every creature on this planet. The mundane humans have been waiting for an excuse to demand the extermination of the rest of us. This could easily be that excuse.” His voice changed then, passion filled his words as when he sang. The heartfelt rawness of his plea shone through. “If you fight, you fight for the world. Many of you have children. They will still inherit this world from you. What world will you give them? The one in which you’re an embarrassment that was eradicated? Or the one in which you stood up and declared your bravery and fairness as you chose to fight for all people?” He searched the room as he spoke, acknowledging his pack members individually.
Cammi shifted her weight and tossed her head. “Out with it already! Are you ordering us do this, Domn Lup? To risk our lives in protection of a single vamp while the rest of the undead remain safe in their haven and WEC sends a single witch to represent their interests?”
Here it was, the moment when the responsibility of leadership became the Hand of Fate that slapped him in the face. The first hard question of his rule had been asked. This was what he didn’t want: his decision risking people’s lives.
Would he cower, bruised by Fate’s inescapable hand?
Would he fight back?
His answer would characterize the kind of leader he would be. The pews were silent as if the waeres present collectively held their breath.
Into the fallen hush, Johnny stood unmoving. Solid.
As he considered, he conveyed calmness to his pack. He demonstrated he did not make snap decisions. He established he was not an insensitive autocrat. Their lives mattered, and he would not recklessly risk them. He showed me that he was willing to lead, that he could bear this mighty authority and its cost, that he could be accountable, and be in command of the situation.
Goddess, I love him.
He filled his lungs, ready to answer. “I am not going to command you do this,” he said. “I have told you what is at hand and I have presented my solution. I know there’s been no time to prove I deserve your trust. But you know what I can do. You know what I am. You know what my course of action will be. And I’m giving you the choice. Either you volunteer and stand at my side, or you don’t.”
He was using my words. I was flattered he thought them worthy. He nodded to me, a signal.
I faced the crowd again. “There will be a reward for anyone who takes this risk.” It was time to tell them all. Some already knew, but Johnny wanted me to tell the rest here, now. “I saved the life of a friend of mine, a member of this pack. Theodora Hennessey. Erik and Celia Randolph were also there and involved. I used magic, a powerful spell provided to me by the very vampire whose life is now threatened and needs your aid. Because of this spell, Theo’s life was saved. And now, she, Erik, and Celia all claim to retain their human minds while in wolf form. They have spoken of this to Todd. I promise, when this is over, I will repeat that ritual and give all volunteers who wish it that same gift.”
“Todd, I charge you with sharing the details,” Johnny said, “but only with those who take oath not only to be there and assist, but to keep secret those details.” He came down a step to stand beside me. “You all have a decision to make. Do you choose to be spectators, and let the fate of the world happen as it will, or do you choose to shape the future with your own hands?” He took my hand, put it on his arm to lead me out as an equal. He brushed past Cammi and hit her shoulder with his for emphasis.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
We arrived at the theater and were met by Mountain. “Boss says for you two to come to his chambers.” He escorted us.
The big door thudded shut, sealing us in a room spared from utter darkness only by a single red pillar candle on the otherwise bare altar. Calla lily incense permeated the air. It was the scent of mourning. In the meager light, the stacked stone walls were believably subterranean, threatening and imprisoning. The two white marble pillars glowed like rigid ghosts, and the door between could have been the black chasm to Hell.
On the far side of the room, I spotted Menessos in one of the high-backed leather chairs. He could have easily blended into the night the room had become. He was clothed in black, and I could discern no details save the stern set of his downcast gaze and his hand curled thoughtfully at his chin.
“Goliath questioned the performer,” he said softly.
“And?” I went to him. Johnny followed.
Menessos waited until we were seated on the half-circle bench beside him, but he did not look up. “He confessed to attempted murder.”
Johnny sat forward, creaking the leather. “Which of you was his mark?”
“I was.”
Relieved, and yet not, I asked, “Where is the performer now?”
“By law, I have the authority to detain him twenty-four hours for questioning, but if local law enforcement intervenes they have the right to remove him into their custody—which they always do if the prisoner is human. This one was no exception. We gave him over before dawn.”
“Who sent him?” I asked. “Or was he self-appointed to the task?”
He put off voicing that answer as long as he could. “Heldridge sent him.”
I was too stunned to comment, but my memory of how Menessos had subdued Heldridge at the Eximium remained fresh.
“Evidently he was opposed to my headquartering my court in his established area. He should have been honored to host my sector authority here. Quarter-lords always improve the local economy. Chicago’s lord begged me not to leave …”
He was rambling, and his voice was distant. It gave me the impression that he was holding this conversation while his thoughts were truly far, far away. “What else?”
“Hmmm?”
“Tell me.” I put a hand on his knee.
Those sharklike eyes lifted then, and locked on me. “Heldridge was at the Eximium. Perhaps he told the fairies of the hanky. If he wanted to be rid of me, that is logical. But he cannot call the fey or stir the energies. No witch in her right mind would do so for him. That means the fairies contacted him, probably after I confirmed moving the haven here. Riling him. They’ve been working against me with my own kind.”
“Where’s Heldridge now?”
“He’s fled. His haven is in distress. I must send his people to other lords. I dare not take them into my own haven, though it is customary. With you here … I cannot afford to risk it.”
We sat in silence, the brooding gloom of the room taking hold.
“I sent scouts to the beach. They will ascertain the lay of the land. Their report will be useful to Mark as he begins strategizing at dusk.”
“That is so little time,” I said.
“There will be some waeres who will aid,” Johnny offered. “I can’t say how many, but I should have an indication by dusk.”
Menessos bowed his head toward Johnny. “Congratulations on your ascension, Domn Lup.”
Johnny nodded back.
Menessos turned to me. “What did you think of Wolfsbane and Absinthe?”
“It was more than I expected.”
“Beauregard explained, then, the need for the soul-sharing?”
I nodded.
“And you, Domn Lup, you agree to its necessity?”
“Yeah, but … I have questions.”
Menessos inclined his head slightly, acknowledging that Johnny should continue.
“I’m a fan of the one-body one-spirit concept. So tell me—honestly”—he glared pointedly at the vampire— “how will it alter our conscious selves?”
“Are you conscious of your soul now?” Menessos asked back.
“I’m self-aware.”
“That is consciousness, yes, but do you feel your soul?”
Johnny considered it. “I don’t know. I don’t know what it would feel like to be alive and soulless.”
“If you were alive and soulless you’d be a zombie,” Menessos said plainly. “Many think vampires are soulless, but I say not. It is why we do not rot as zombies do. I say vampires’ souls leave them at dawn, yet are tethered to them still, and return at dusk bringing consciousness back.”
“Like astral travel?” I asked.
“Similar, but in astral travel the soul is aware like a dream. Vampire souls are simply dormant.”
“And while the soul is dormant and absent,” Johnny pressed, “what do your people claim the experience of that is like?”
Menessos’s head snapped toward me sharply.
Johnny’s words had implied that Menessos wouldn’t know himself. “Yes. I told him you’re alive.” I defended my actions, saying, “No one should go into this ritual without knowing the truth.”
Johnny snorted. “She did swear me to secrecy first.”
The vampire was nonplussed, but it was done. I hoped he could concede that my logic was valid.
“They claim it is a second of nothingness,” he said. “Vampires die, and they ‘instantly’ awaken knowing hours have passed but without a true sense of them. It renders the impression of near-constant life.”
“And sharing souls? How does it work?”
“I have not experienced it before,” Menessos said irritably as he rose and paced.
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