Wicked Circle (31 page)

Taking advantage of the opportunity, I sped around the south side of the Cleveland Browns Stadium.

Seconds later, Liyliy still wasn’t behind me.

Just as I released a sigh of relief she dived from the opening in the upper section of the southwest corner. Apparently being smacked by the giant metal blade of a wind turbine wasn’t enough to hurt her.

I intentioned for speed, and Liyliy’s talons raked through the broom’s straw. It caused the top of the broomstick to point up and I was carried once again into the sky. Below, Liyliy hit the ground but immediately flopped and flapped to gain altitude.

Though my heart was racing, the cold wind was becoming more than a mere annoyance. This gown had zero warmth, but I had to escape. With a thought, I hit the open air and asked the broom for sixty miles per hour.
Seventy. Eighty.

The wind was such that I found myself again wishing for a pair of goggles like I’d seen other—albeit
older
—witches wear. My eyes were watering and forced shut. I managed a forward peek every few seconds to ensure that I wasn’t about to fly into a cell tower or something that might sneak
up on me, though I was relatively certain that that wasn’t going to be a problem while skimming the shoreline of Lake Erie.

The harpy was far in the distance, but not giving up.

Ninety. A hundred.

The skirt of my dress was flapping so hard that I heard it begin to rip. The sheer outer layer couldn’t withstand this kind of abuse. Neither could my skin; I was so cold. My body ached with exhaustion again.

Cedar Point Amusement Park appeared when I was peeking. Behind me, I saw nothing of the owlish figure, so I dropped low and slowed, halting on the far side of the Sky Ride.

I was panting like I’d run a race, but I hadn’t. I was just so tired. Ready to blame it on an adrenaline rush bottoming out, I thought of something that I hadn’t considered before: How does a broom fly? It’s a magical item with the specific capability of flying, but what fuels it once it’s in the air?

There was only one answer that made any sense. Me.

I just fueled a broom for triple-digit speed.
After being drained during the forced-change spell, I didn’t have much to spare.

Apparently, the intentions were only as good as the stamina the riding witch had to offer. I could refuel from the line, to a point anyway, but my pursuer would likely sense that and locate me, so for now, I resisted that urge. Finding cover was priority number one. The harpy might have been gone, but I needed a warm place to hide and recover. I surveyed the darkened park. There was no getting into the stairwell that led up to the ski-lift-like Sky Ride. The doors were of course locked.

Directly across from me
was the Jack Aldrich Theatre. To the north, I saw Point Pavilion. That would provide overhead cover at least. I flew under the metal roof and put my feet down atop one of the picnic tables.

I’d just begun to feel a noticeable reduction in my pulse when a shrill screech echoed over the park. I flew to the end of the row, then crawled under the end of the farthest table and slid the broom with me. The scuffing sound of it made me grit my teeth and hope that Liyliy hadn’t heard.

Talons clacked on the metal roof as it creaked with the weight of something large.

Shit, shit, shit!

Stock still, I held my breath.

It seemed a long minute ticked away before I heard the scrape of talons leaving the roof.

Relief flooded over me—too soon.

Liyliy, in human form, dropped to the ground midway of the pavilion, clothed in a sheath of gray silk.

She’d be waiting for a shift of shadow to give me away. So I remained frozen in place and watched her from the space between the seat and the underside of the table.

Her silk fluttered into mist, stretching, searching.

She was going to find me no matter what.

I dropped to my stomach and rolled from under the table on the far side, dragging the broom with me and intending it up even as I rolled atop it.

Liyliy screeched, jerking her misty-parts back to her and shifting to owl smoothly. The broom carried me over the wall to back of the pavilion area and toward the roller coaster there. Liyliy was right behind me. I swerved into the coaster’s supports, darting through where she was too big to follow. There
were larger spots that accommodated her easily, though. She angled up and shot through one, stretching down as soon as she passed through.

I zigzagged and zoomed underneath the coaster. She was above, and the track provided me cover. I followed the twists and spins, feeling the whoosh of air as talons reached for me if I drifted to one side. Again and again, she tried to find purchase in my skin. I slowed down for sharp curves. I sped up for the few straightaways. I was so tired, I tried to tap a ley line.
Where is one?

The chase made it difficult to feel for a line, and when I did find one, I absorbed a sip here and there—more of the biting shock of initiating such a connection and not so much of the actual transfer. The swift curves of the coaster made it impossible to maintain the link to the ley line.

Defeating her would require more than speed and maneuverability. I was going to have to use magic, but this was happening too fast to think of a focusing rhyme.

Her talons touched my back.

I screamed.

The broom veered down and right, keeping the swipe of claws shallow, but I no longer had the coaster track giving me cover. I tried to swerve back under, but Liyliy anticipated the direction of my veering, and my rebound. She dived again, forcing me in the opposite direction.

A talon closed around my biceps and heaved upward.

My arm wrenched and I screamed again. Still holding the broom, I kicked and swung the bristly end at the harpy’s beak with all my might. As my efforts made me twist in the harpy’s grip, I felt the bones of my shoulder grind out of the socket just as the stiff straw jabbed into Liyliy’s big, round, yellow eyes.

She screeched and released
me. I fell past a sign for the Raptor and landed on a bed of mulch, twisting so I didn’t land on my arm. Still, it slammed against my side as I collided with the ground. The pain was a white-hot spotlight inside my head. The whine that emerged from my lips was the last thing I heard as that white light darkened.

Liyliy landed beside the unconscious figure and resumed her human form. She straddled the fugitive Erus Veneficus and grabbed her hands. As her clothes melted into a wispy tentacle she said, “Let’s see what’s in your mind.”

She chanted and the tentacle dipped toward Persephone’s neck.

When it touched her, a glow emerged around the E.V. For an instant, Liyliy saw silver-white armor. In an explosion of light, Liyliy was thrust backward.

She rolled end over end and came up panting and swearing.

A
s Interim Quarterlord,” Giovanni said, “my first action is to declare Menessos unfit for leadership. I assume control of this haven—”

“That duty has already been assigned to Goliath,” Mero interjected. “I was sent here to conduct this investigation—”

“And as the Interim Quarterlord I am assuming control.”

The tension in the room ramped up. Goliath was shaking with fury. Mero knew that if the situation exploded, irreparable actions would commence. He also knew that his son was a master strategist. He’d given Mero an advantage, if he needed it, and the option to back down if that was what he needed.

Mero put a hand on Goliath’s shoulder and the lanky vampire withdrew to one side. Mero entered the outer chamber. “Since you have declared yourself the Interim Quarterlord, Giovanni, you will of course understand that my rank as Advisor trumps yours. If you cared to be a part of the investigation instead of running off to beg leverage of the Excelsior, you would have already known that I relieved Menessos of his position and bequeathed this haven to Goliath, dubbing it the Cleveland haven. It is no longer a Quarterlord’s haven, so you have no one to command here. However,” he gestured ceremoniously to Goliath, “I trust you will be compliant with the Interim Quarterlord’s requests. Should you have any concerns, I will be available to hear them
and mediate without hesitation.”

Goliath bowed his head respectfully.

Mero approached Giovanni. Quietly he said, “Your personal grudge against Menessos is a veil before your eyes. I will not be able to judge your motives kindly if you are not carefully impartial in how you progress from here,
Quarterlord
.”

Giovanni backed away, making sounds like a vicious dog. “I want the shabbubitum sisters sequestered in an interrogation room. I want to question them immediately.”

“I know just the place to conduct that,” Goliath offered and headed toward the door.

“Ladies, please follow Goliath. Your compliance is expected.” Mero patted his chest as if to remind them the necklace was under his shirt. They followed Goliath out.

Giovanni hesitated long enough to glare, then trailed the group. Mark, who was still on duty at the outer door, shut it after Giovanni. “Mark,” Mero called before it had completely closed. When the man responded, Mero added, “I believe your former master would like a few words with you.”

When Menessos saw Mark, he motioned him close. “Get a search party assembled. Every Beholder and Offerling we can spare needs to be on the streets. I want to know in what direction Persephone flew off. I want them to find witnesses, to report in what they learn from them, then to follow up all leads.”

“What about the harpy? Won’t she bring her in?”

“No. We cannot rely on her. Our people should not confront her; she must be treated with caution. Appoint someone here to coordinate
via phone. That way we can combine the efforts if needed and call it off when Persephone’s found.”

“Is the court witch a traitor, Boss?”

“No.”

“It won’t be easy to convince the Beholders and Offerlings of that just now.”

“Don’t worry about that. Just tell them Persephone must be brought in unharmed. Tell them Goliath has been appointed Haven Master and that the order comes from him.”

Mark bowed before leaving.

Mero resumed his bedside seat. “Their continued loyalty is a tribute to you.”

“As is yours. Thank you for trumping Giovanni.”

“It felt good,” Mero said as the door opened.

Goliath rolled a cart bearing a television into the rear chamber. He powered the system on and left.

In a conference room, Giovanni paced. The sisters were seated at a large cherry table. The décor was all dark browns, leather and wood and a few items of deep green. From the aim of the shot, the lens of the camera had to be hidden in the upper corner.

“We saw many things,” Ailo was saying.

“Tell me all of it.”

“What we see is . . . voluminous. We could discuss it for weeks,” Talto explained. “The images convey so much meaning, books’ worth of words into a snippet of memory. And it darkens with time.”

“If you have a specific area to focus your curiosity, ask questions,” Ailo suggested.

“Both the sound and picture are good,” Mero observed.

“Yes,” Menessos said. “The microphone is
encased within the scrollwork of the torchiere floor lamp.”

“What of the witch?” Giovanni demanded. “Is she the Lustrata?”

“She is the bearer of the Lustrata’s mantle. Her powers are not yet complete, but she is getting close.”

“Did Menessos willingly accept her hexes?”

“Not exactly.”

“What do you mean?”

“She bore his mark, and then that mark was flipped.”

“Flipped?”

“It was overturned and the connection that was once his binding upon her, metamorphosed into her binding upon him.”

“How did she accomplish this?”

“She did not. A goddess did.”

At that, Mero faced Menessos with the question plain in his expression.

“The Lustrata has Hecate’s favor.”

Mero wanted to know more, but the interrogation continued.

“A goddess.” Giovanni crossed his arms. “A goddess.”

“No mortal can sever such a mark. Only divine intervention could have achieved this.” Talto’s tone was utterly serious.

“You do not have to believe or enjoy what we claim to have seen, but you would be a fool to discount our words,” Ailo said. The warning in her tone was not hidden.

“The second hex?” Giovanni prompted.

“He was nearly dead,” Talto said.

Ailo clarified. “She had staked him.”

Again, Mero faced Menessos in disbelief. He whispered, “You covet a mortal woman
who drove a stake into your heart and forced a hex upon you?” This intimate revelation declared the complexity of the vampire that had Made him. “Why?”

Menessos remained intent on the screen and made no attempt to answer.

Giovanni, too, was astonished by this. “She staked him in order to hex him,” he repeated. “How did he survive?”

“The stake was extracted.”

“Is Menessos aware of her political intentions?”

“From what was in his mind, she appears to have no aspirations of power and authority.”

“Appearances can be deceiving,” the advisor snapped. “The attempted murder of a Quarterlord to secure dominion over him is an act of war in and of itself.” Giovanni began pacing again. “She has used her sway over him to blind him from the truth.”

“That is not true,” Menessos said to Mero. “I placed a small binding upon her, disguised as a bond between her and her lover. It enabled me to see past any personal barriers. There was no trace of what Giovanni suggests.”

“Was,” Mero said to emphasize that was past tense. “When was that and what about now?”

“That small binding has been removed, but you would be wise to not doubt me when it comes to her merits.”

On-screen, Giovanni said, “The Domn Lup cannot be subjected to her magic, as wærewolves cannot abide those energies . . . and that explains why she is his lover. The seduction subdues and sways him.” He paced continually as he considered this news. The sisters sat in silence.

To Mero’s disappointment, Menessos was keeping his face carefully blank. But Mero knew his friend’s thoughts were racing. An enemy
was tying together the threads that would enable him to make a case for the elimination of the court witch who had clearly won so much more than Menessos’s admiration.