Shattered Circle (35 page)

The window on the phone’s case face was lit up in a soft green. The caller ID flashing on the screen read:
SAMSON
.

Opening the phone, he held it to his ear. Tentatively, he said, “Hello?”

“I hope you’re ready for all the shit coming your way, Haven Master.”

“Samson?”

Silence.

“Samson?” He pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at it, but the screen was now dark.

D
emeter felt her meditative self shift onto another plane.

This was not what usually happened when she sought a quick glimpse of insight by touching someone’s head, but she didn’t usually do this inside an empowered circle with the intention of delving into another’s private realm.

She opened her eyes.
Of course. Nothing’s going to go quite as planned.

Persephone was no longer seated before her; the walls of the kitchen were no longer surrounding her. Instead, she stood before a willow tree at the edge of a lake.

She made a slow but complete revolution, viewing the whole of her new environment. It was a serene setting, green and fertile. The gentle lapping of the water was calming. The smell of wheat was carried on the breeze.

“Hello!” Demeter called.

Startled birds flittered out of branches, their protesting cries echoing back as they fled.

Demeter grumbled and crossed her arms.

Facing the lake once more, she wondered if the totem was a water creature. That would explain the proximity of the lake. She studied the surface, watching for a telltale splash. When no such sound occurred, her gaze was drawn to the island out in the lake.

Seeing Persephone’s meditation world was insightful, but she could not shake the guilty feeling that accompanied this intrusive peek into her granddaughter’s private space.

“Hello.”

Demeter’s crossed arms shot out defensively, startled by the voice. Spinning to face the sound, she saw a jackal standing not far away. Her breath caught. “Oh!”

The jackal must have sensed the unease she felt; he sat and pricked his ears forward. He even wagged his tail.

“I’m Demeter Alcmedi.” She relaxed her shoulders as she spoke.

“I am glad to meet you, grandmother of the Lustrata. I am Amenemhab.”

“Am-men-what?”

“Amenemhab.”

“Got it.” She nodded once, but wasn’t going to try to say it aloud.

“You’ve come because Persephone is in danger.” The wind picked up, cold.

“Yes.” Demeter shuffled an urgent step forward. “What do you know of it?”

His head bobbed up and down in an odd canine version of a shrug. His ears lowered, lending him an expression of concern. “I sense the danger, but I know nothing of it. Whatever is happening, it is not happening here.”

Wringing her hands, she asked, “Can you not move between planes and find out?”

The jackal’s nose pointed at the lake, then the tree.
“This is her plane. I am here until she and I have accomplished all the tasks set before us. I can leave this place only then . . . or when her current physical body dies.”

Demeter swallowed the lump in her throat that formed at his ominous words. “What can I do?”

The jackal’s snout aimed downward and his paw rubbed his muzzle thoughtfully.

Before he could come to a conclusive thought, a trumpeting roar filled the air. He came to his feet and looked at the lake. The sound had caused Demeter to jump as well, and she turned, too.

Fog was now enveloping the small island and, as they watched, it billowed out across the lake. Clouds roiled in the sky, blocking out the sun. The surface of the lake changed from placid to choppy. The fog crawled over the surface, creeping closer with each moment. Demeter retreated from the water’s edge.

A pair of black dragons emerged, yoked to a strange boat.

The next seconds passed in a rapid blur as the dragons emerged partially from the water and a woman wearing a hooded cloak stepped along the plank that stretched between the scaly creatures. A dragon lowered its neck and she descended gracefully to the shore. The woman walked directly up to Demeter. A wrinkled hand appeared from within the cloak and she raised it slowly. Thick, twisted knuckles bent, and cool ancient fingers touched Demeter’s chin.

Demeter had been watching the hand, as the woman’s face was hidden in the depths of her hood, but as she drew Demeter’s chin up, the wind blew the hood back,
revealing a kind old face with frightening dark eyes that could see the past, the present, and the future.

“Hecate.”

The goddess smiled. “It has been a long time, Demeter Alcmedi.”

Demeter’s gaze dropped downward.

“Your granddaughter is ever finding herself in the path of danger.”

“Because of you.”

Hecate laughed. “Your grandmother blamed me for the antics of your youth as well.” She sidestepped and began circling Demeter. “But then you, too, were willful, powerful, and stubborn.” She paused to whisper, “It is a combination that wrought your bloodline. A combination that tests the soul, invites the notice of darker things, and entices the most tempting desires to your door.” Her tone was sharp and cold, as if she spoke icicles instead of words.

“Can you help her?”

“I am helping her.” Hecate began circling again. “Do you think I would allow all my plans to be foiled by Hades?”

At that name, Demeter’s focus snapped back to the goddess. Her lungs expelled air like she’d been kicked hard. “Hades?”

Hecate stopped in front of Demeter. They locked stares for a few heartbeats. “She went in without the proper precautions. He took advantage of her mistake.”

Demeter stood straight. “What are you going to do, Hecate?”

Hecate reached down and snatched Demeter’s hands.
She lifted them up and examined each—the back, the palm, the fingers. When she released them she said, “Relax. I seek no bargain with you. I simply want Hades to stay out of my way.” She turned away, extending her hand. One of the dragons lowered his head to accept her petting. Finally, she said, “Hades must be taught a lesson.”

Hecate wrapped one hand around the horn protruding from the dragon’s snout and dug the fingers of her other hand under one of the dragon’s cheek scales. With a shout, she yanked it free. The dragon jerked and snorted a complaint with his long fangs bared, but she did not release the enormous creature or shy from its threat. She wiped the loosened scale over the place from which it had been torn, collecting blood on it. Turning her back on the dragon, she faced Demeter again. “Dragon’s blood,” she said. “The real thing.” The liquid gleamed on the lustrous black scale. “Raise your hands. Palms up.”

Demeter obeyed.

The goddess held the dragon’s scale over each hand in turn, allowing blood to drip onto Demeter’s skin. It was dark, dark red, and almost hot enough to burn. “Rub your hands together.” She turned and shoved the scale back into place on the dragon’s cheek. It grumbled a single note.

Staring at the thick blood smeared all over her hands, Demeter asked, “What is this for?”

“To provide you the strength to hold this.” Hecate reached forward and a scythe suddenly appeared in the goddess’s hands. She held it out, offering it to Demeter.

•  •  •

Johnny felt something pop like a bubble, and could see on the women’s faces the strain they immediately felt. Seconds ticked away into minutes. Johnny watched the three chanting witches holding the circle, contained within their ley line force field. Lydia was clearly having trouble. Her old hands were shaking as if palsied.

Worried, he remained focused on her. Through three rounds of the chant, her volume lowered. On the fourth time, her voice cracked. Her voice began to rasp, sounding like she badly needed a drink of water.

He willed her to keep going, to have the stamina and the clarity of voice to continue, but on the fifth round, her voice began to falter altogether. Not sure if it would make any difference, he positioned himself behind Lydia and began to sing her part. Vilna looked at him, glanced down at his hands, then at Lydia’s shoulders. He let his hands hover over the old woman’s frail shoulders. His brows raised, silently asking Vilna if he was doing the right thing.

She nodded.

Johnny’s hands lowered slowly, detecting a brittle, heated static before he made contact.

This is going to be bad
. He breathed deep. When his hands were completely in contact with her, an electric shock gripped his hands and forearms. He held his breath, fighting to master the pain. Fur sprouted and his claws pushed out. The energy kept pushing higher up his arms, bringing the change with it.

He understood that by his joining their outer circle, the ley line energy was rerouting through him. It was pushing at him from both sides, trying to link. When he
wrapped his head around that fact, he was able to release the tension in his muscles and allow the power to meet at his sternum. He itched as fur rose under his shirt, but once the new flow was established, he found he could revert the transformation. Lydia’s rigidly held shoulders loosened. She fell silent.

Then Lydia’s knees gave way.

G
oliath slid into the backseat of the waiting limo and shut the door.

Beside him, Menessos said, “She is not far.” The car pulled away from the curb, tires squealing. “She is hiding in Mall B, near a tree.”

“Only four blocks away? Why are we bothering to drive?” Goliath wanted to tell Menessos about the protrepticus, about hearing Samson’s voice, but there was no time. “What’s the plan?”

“You get out at the corner of the mall, the car will take me closer to where she is hiding, and I confront her directly. The car waits while I try peaceably to get her to return, distracting her while you approach from another direction. You grab Beverley.”

“Count on it.”

When the car slowed to make the turn, Goliath exited, rolling into the street from a quickly opened and shut door without the car actually stopping. The late hour meant traffic was practically nonexistent. Menessos would be counting on Ailo to detect the car arriving, slowing near her.

It was a good plan.

But.

If he could slay the shabbubitu
and
safely remove Beverley from harm, he would.

Crouched, Goliath hurried in the direction opposite
that of the limousine, circling around to enter Mall B by a pedestrian path.

Malls A, B, and C were large landscaped areas, green oases open to the public. Mall B had the most trees. It also had a medium-height wall to reduce traffic noise from the nearby Shoreway.

In moments, he could hear Menessos’s voice. He was pleading with Ailo to return to the haven. Near a tree, Goliath leapt over the wall and landed silently on the grass inside, keeping his body aligned with the tree’s trunk.

As he assessed the situation, he noticed Menessos was remaining on the far side of the wall. Ailo was near the wall, with her back against some kind of stone monument shaped like a large square about three feet high and ten feet across. There were stone benches on three sides, and a tree on the other. There was considerable open space between them.

He started forward.

He was fifteen yards away from them when he saw a dark shadow racing ahead of him on the ground. He dived to the side and felt a razor-like talon scrape his ear.

The huge owl screeched and flapped her wings, raising up into the sky.

Goliath had hit the ground and started to roll as he saw Ailo come running into the open, screaming to the sky, “Take us, Liyliy! Don’t leave! Take us!”

In her arms, Ailo cradled Beverley, who was mummy-wrapped in gray silk.

A glance at the sky revealed the large bird had circled around and was lining up for another flying dive. Her outstretched talons were open, ready to grab.

There’s no fucking way she’s going to pick them both up and fly out of here.

Lurching onto his feet, Goliath was racing forward before he was fully upright. From the corner of his eye he saw Menessos leap over the wall and hit the ground running as well.

Ailo turned and lifted one arm out, ready for the owl to grasp her. She had her other arm locked tight around Beverley. When she saw the two vampires advancing on her, a stripe of gray fabric fluttered out and wrapped tight around Beverley’s neck. “Stay back or I’ll wring her little neck!” Ailo cried.

“Ailo, no!” Menessos shouted.

Goliath sped up.

W
ide-eyed, Demeter shook her head and took a step back.

“I will send you to the place where they are, Demeter. Strike him with this.”

“You want me to attack Hades? A
god
? Are you out of your . . . ” Remembering whom she was addressing, Demeter’s words trailed off and she ended by clearing her throat.

“If you want her back, his hold on her must be broken. My scythe will accomplish that. She cannot leave his realm otherwise.”

Demeter could not move. Not only was the goddess offering up
Her
scythe, She intended for Demeter to wield it.

“Only this will save your granddaughter. Take it.”

Demeter mustered her courage and reached shaking hands toward the scythe. Hecate’s hands slid from farther down the shaft, allowing Demeter to assume a firmer grip. “Do you have it?”

Demeter nodded.

Hecate released the scythe.

The long blade was unexpectedly heavy. The tip crashed down, embedding in the muddy shore. Demeter maintained her hold, and grasped the shaft more firmly. She bent slightly as she tried to heft the blade from the mud. It shifted but she could not lift it. There was
strength in her hands, in the dragon’s blood on her skin, but her arms remained weak.

Hecate’s hand rested on Demeter’s shoulder.
“Falx portare.”

As the words were spoken it seemed to Demeter that she had become the axis point on which the world spun. Dizziness engulfed her. She leaned on the scythe for balance and concentrated on breathing. When the motion stopped, she opened her eyes and found she was standing on the dais of a great throne room.