Fatal Circle (7 page)

“You do the right thing, for the right reason.” He pulled me close again. “That’s my girl.” He stroked my hair and we just held each other. “Who else knows you’re the boss?”

Downstairs, through my thin floor, I heard the phone ring.

“Menessos knows, of course. Xerxadrea. You.” My totem animal Amenemhab also knew it, but he was my counsel and no one else’s. He didn’t need to be on the list. “I know this sucks. I just can’t risk Beverley having to suffer because I wouldn’t step up to the plate.”

“And what if it’s you that she needs here, not Demeter?”

What
am
I going to say to her?

“Persephone!” Nana called.

Johnny released me and I opened the bedroom door. “Yes?”

“Telephone.”

“Take a message.”

“I tried. He insisted there was little time.”

I went out and down the stairs. “Who is it?”

Nana shrugged. “Dunno. But the walking corpse went back to the cellar,” she said as I passed her.
Good
.

In the kitchen I lifted the receiver to my ear wondering where my cordless was hiding. Probably between couch cushions. “Hello?”

“Is everything all right?” It was Jimmy Martin, editor for my “Waere Are You” column.

“Yeah, why?”

“It’s Wednesday, your column is due, and I didn’t get it yesterday like usual.”

Oh, hell. On top of all my other worries, I still have a
job. “Just polishing it up right now, Jimmy. It’ll be in your in-box in less than an hour, okay? I promise.”

I spent the next hour furiously scolding myself for forgetting about it and putting my notes together into a readable column. The only reason I got it done at all was because I was doing a series on waere parenting and this was part three. A premise and supporting notes were already compiled. Still, it was far from my best work.

It was just after four when the front door shut loudly, announcing Johnny had dropped Beverley off. He had to go work on guitars, some German order that came in, but he planned to be back at dusk to go with me and Menessos to Cleveland.

Beverley stopped at my bedroom door on her way to her own. Her book bag dragged behind her and the usual boisterous fourth-grader energy was absent. Everything about her was evidence of how tired she was. “Have a good day?”

“Yeah. I have some math to do.”

“Give me a few minutes and I’ll help, okay?” I was finishing up my packing.

“I don’t need help, I know how to do it. Why are you packing?”

“I have to go away for a few days.”

“Where are you going to go?”

“To Menessos’s.”

Sinking onto the edge of the bed, I patted the spot next to me so she’d come and sit with me. “Remember when we carved the pumpkins and had our safety talk about handling knives?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s rule number one?”

“Safety first.”

“Right.” Damn, this was hard. “See, the fairies are mad about one of them being killed—even if it was in self-defense. They’re making threats. So, in order to keep that safety rule, I’m going away to make sure you and Nana are safe.

“Just a few days?”

“I hope.”

Her fingers fidgeted, but she said nothing.

“Beverley?”

“What about my birthday? Will you be back for that?”

Shit, I’d forgotten!
Her birthday was the ninth, so I had eight days. “I don’t know how all of this is going to go, so I can’t swear I will be here on your official tenth birthday, but I can promise I’ll do everything possible to be here.”

“Okay.” She played with the zipper on my suitcase. She didn’t seem convinced.

“What is it?” I prompted.

“Will we be safe here, without you?”

“Those witches put in new wards this morning, it is very safe here. But you still have to wear the necklace when you leave—”

“I won’t forget that again.”

I put my arm around her shoulder and squeezed to reassure her. “Then yes, you’ll be safe.”

Over the side of the bed, her feet swung and clunked together at the heels. “What about Johnny?”

“He’s coming with me. And there’s one more thing.”

“What’s that?”

“I remember how mad you got when Vivian said mean things about me, so I’m telling you now: as part of keeping you safe here, Nana is going to tell some newspeople that she’s very mad at me. She’ll probably say mean things like she never wants to see me again.” I leaned in to whisper. “But secretly, everything’s okay. She’s pretending, so everyone will think she’s mad. You have to pretend it, too, if anyone asks.”

Beverley squinted. “Why?”

“I doubt anyone will pester you over this, but if anyone besides Nana talks to you about it, just say you’re never talking to me again. If they pressure you, just say you don’t want to talk about it. Can you do that?”

“Yeah.”

“You won’t bring it up or mention it to anyone?”

“Geez. No. I didn’t talk about fairies today. Just like I said.”

“Beverley, you are amazing.” I hugged her again. “I’m going to miss you while I’m gone, kiddo.”

She squeezed me tight. “You will be back, right?”

“Count on it. And I promise you this: when it’s over, we are having the biggest party for you. Johnny will make the cake and we’ll invite all your friends from school, okay?” I made a mental note:
weather permitting, find ponies for riding.

•  •  •

Assessing my magical supplies and what I wanted to take with me, I decided the bloodstone would be an excellent choice. Good for increasing courage and for alleviating unnecessary fear, it was also a stone of power and victory. I lifted it into my palm. The vibration was a bit weak. I had a quartz crystal that was well charged. I picked it up with my left hand. Calling energy out of it, propelling it through me, wrapping it with my need for courage, I pushed it into my right palm and charged the bloodstone. Just as I finished, Nana walked in.

“I’m going down to fix dinner.”

“Okay. You cook and Beverley and I will clean up. Deal?”

“Deal. Anything special you want?”

“Whatever” almost came out of my mouth, but I caught the shining in her eyes. She wanted to make me dinner. “Any of your colcannon left?” Nana had made her delicious, if not quite accurate, version of the mashed-potatoes-and-cabbage dish for Hallowe’en.

“Leftovers?”

“It’s your specialty. I’d love to have that before I go.”

She nodded.

“And Nana? Promise me you’ll only make the most necessary trips on the stairs?” I’d taken her scrying crystal and hidden it in a shoebox in my closet, but that didn’t heal the damage to her knees. Scrying always took a physical toll. “And promise me, no more scrying.” The look I gave her said I knew she’d used alternate means to look into the future without the crystal.

“I promise.”

She shuffled from the doorway. I added the bloodstone to the items I was packing, then retrieved the scrying crystal and packed it, too, shoebox and all. She was pushy enough she might rummage in my room while I was gone and find it. She could still scry with a glass bottle and blessed water, but I was praying she’d not be tempted.

Though mashed-potato dishes are on my list of comfort foods, my emotionally traumatized stomach couldn’t handle much for dinner. Afterward, Beverley and I cleaned up the kitchen together. Then, as I brought down my broom and my suitcase packed with magic supplies as well as clothes, Beverley carried the toiletries bag for me.

The sun would be setting in about twenty minutes. We had a little time. “Packing’s done. Homework’s done. Should we play ‘go fish’?”

“Sure! But you have to do the voices.”

“What voices?”

“Johnny never says just ‘go fish,’ he says, ‘Git yer pole ’n git down to that there yonder crick!’ ” She imitated his impression of a hick perfectly. Then she switched to British for, “Or, ‘Blimey, old chap, you need to retrieve some fish from the market.’”

Twenty minutes later, we were giggling uncontrollably at ourselves when Johnny came in, leaving the big front door open. The screen door snapped shut but let a swirl of cool autumn air follow him. “Sounds like somebody’s stealing my act.” He came to hug me. “You get that math done?” he asked her.

“Yup.”

They traded high fives.

“You ready?”

Before he could answer, Johnny’s cell phone went off like an air-raid siren. He jerked it from his pocket. “Sh—oot.” He changed his expletive for the child-safe version. Nana had once threatened to start a swear jar.

“What is it?”

“I completely forgot. The band is doing a radio interview tonight.”

Though he’d earlier professed to be choosing me over the band, I wasn’t about to insist that he do so. I was confident he’d juggle it expertly until the time came when he absolutely could not avoid it any longer. “What time?”

“Eight.” He pushed buttons on the phone. “I can just make it.” His expression was imploring. “I can’t crap out on the guys. I set this up.”

I wasn’t exactly fond of the idea of going alone into the vampire’s haven, but I wouldn’t make things harder for him. I hoped he never had to “crap out on the guys.” I nodded.

“That’s okay, Johnny,” Menessos’s voice heralded from the doorway as the vampire strolled through. “You can join us later, whenever you’re done.” He flashed his delighted and pointy grin.

CHAPTER SEVEN

While Menessos gave the location of his haven to Johnny, I changed into my freshly washed copper Henley shirt and added my brown blazer. They dressed up the jeans a little. I had to admit, this kind of felt like I was meeting his family. I wanted to make a good impression, even though I knew the notion was ridiculous.

When I came downstairs, Johnny hugged me, planted a quick kiss on my cheek, and whispered, “This thing runs until ten. I’ll get to you ASAP.” Then his lips pressed mine. It might have grown into something lustier but Beverley giggled and we both broke it off.

I escorted him outside. The rain was gone, the sky clear, but it was cold.

Johnny pointed to the duffel bag on the porch. “That’s my suitcase.” It was pretty big, as duffel bags went.

“I’ll take that with my stuff.”

“Make your minion carry it for you.”

“Johnny.”

He affected innocence and shrugged. “It’s heavy.”

“
Riiight
.”

His lean arms encircled me with another hug and he whispered, “You’re the boss, Red. Don’t be afraid to make him know it.”

“I’m not.” The hug ended too soon. “I’m not a fan of going in there alone, but I’m not afraid of it, either.”

He tweaked my cheek. “That’s my girl.”

Like a good boyfriend, he left me with a toe-curling kiss that sent fireworks sparkling up and down my spine. “I’m sure we’ll have our own room at the haven,” I whispered. “There’s some perks to our temporary relocation.”

“How am I supposed to talk coherently about band shit while my brain is stalled on that promise?”

I tapped his temple lightly. “Duh. Think with
this
head in the studio.” I added, “Innuendo point for me.”

He chalked it onto the air scoreboard. “As soon as I get to you, though, the other one’s taking over.” He finished with a low and lusty growl in my ear.

When his motorcycle roared up the road, I went back inside. Nana leaned in the dining room doorway, smoking and giving Menessos the stink-eye. He appeared a bit sheepish. “What did I miss?”

Neither offered an answer.

Beverley spilled the beans. “He complimented her on her shirt.”

“That’s it?”

“She told him not to try any weirdo vampire crap.”

“Oh.” The moment went awkward. “Well. I hate long good-byes, so let’s get this over with.”

Nana put her cigarette in the ashtray and came forward, open armed. “It’s the right thing for the right reason, Nana. It will all work out.”

“I believe you.” She patted my back.

“The contractors are supposed to come and give quotes about the remodeling. Their days and times are written on the calendar. And there are enough sticky-note jokes inside the book cover to last for three weeks . . . I don’t think I’ll be anywhere near that long, but just in case. Use them and it’ll be kind of like I’m still here.”

Nana backed away. My attention went to Beverley. Unenthusiastically, she came toward me. I crouched to receive her hug. “I’ll be thinking about you, kiddo.”

“I miss you already.”

“Likewise.” When this embrace ended, I held on to her arms, being as earnest and sincere as I ever was. “I will be back. And that party will happen.”

The onset of her tears brought mine flooding up like the dam just broke. “I gotta go.” I stood, hefted my bags, and left.

With everything tossed in the trunk of my Toyota Avalon, we climbed into the car. Menessos got in the back. Seeing my displeasure revealed in the rearview mirror, he innocently asked, “What?”

“I am not your chauffeur. Get up front.”

“I’m sorry, Persephone. Habit.” He settled into the passenger seat.

At the end of the drive, I flashed my lights at the pair of silhouettes on the porch waving. “To I-71, right?” My voice was thick, still fighting tears.
Damn it. Enough with the weepiness shit!

“Yes.” It soon became clear that Menessos only gave directions on an “as needed” basis—which also kept the car uncomfortably silent. His method, though not very satisfactory to my detail-seeking self, would still get us there.

I considered my present state.
This can’t be hormones. My Depo-Provera shot isn’t due until Yule.
The nurse, aware of the timing, had teased about it being my gift to myself.
This is just an outlet for stress. Don’t think about it as leaving home. Talk about something, anything!
Shoving that emotion away, I asked, “Is there an Internet connection at the haven that I can access to do my column?” I’d packed my laptop.

“Yes. High-speed Wi-Fi. You are welcome to use my desktop if you’d care to.”

About to insist that I didn’t want to impose, I stopped myself.
Do masters worry over imposing upon a servant?
I wondered if strong emotions made one a terrible master.