Linda Robertson - Shattered Circle

“Yes,” Plympton said. “That is another part of the reason it is perfect. It has also been the host of many historic events and important social functions. Now it will host this pack.”

“But—” Todd interjected.

“No buts!” Plympton shouted, facing Todd. “The pack will cordially allow the local veterans to continue holding festivities there, some touring exhibits. Some halls will continue to be rentable for parties, weddings, proms, et cetera. It will be a great outreach opportunity.”

Somehow, the man’s bad eye seemed to continue focusing on Johnny independently of where the other eye looked. It was unsettling, but even so Johnny said, “You don’t know Clevelanders, Jacques. This is bullshit.”

With that, he sat back and pulled out his phone, which he’d switched to silent for the meeting. There were multiple missed calls from Red, and one voicemail. Aware of the excellent hearing of his companions, he decided not to listen to the message in the limo. He knew she was upset; the meeting had interfered, but it hadn’t taken that long. He texted her: Just out of meeting. @ den in 5. On my way to you then.

By the time they arrived at the den, she had not responded. That was unusual for her, and it fed his urgency to listen to her message privately. He was the first one out of the limo, not waiting for the driver to open the door for him.

Aurelia exited on his heels. “John. Wait.”

“No time. Prior commitment.” She was not going to stall him this time. He pulled his keys from his pocket and remotely unlocked the Maserati’s doors as he neared the driver’s side.

Aurelia rushed forward and threw her body against the door. “John! We have to talk.”

He stepped in close, growling low. “Don’t you ever do that again.”

“Don’t do what?” she asked. “Something drastic to get your attention?” The sass in her tone infuriated him.

“No. Don’t ever touch my car.” He forcibly moved her away from the driver’s door.

“You need to learn how to be a king, John. The Zvonul are not going to be happy with me if I don’t teach you some etiquette, and I can’t do that if you don’t give me a chance.”

“Etiquette? Sounds like you’re trying to puss-ify the Domn Lup.”

“Hardly. You are a king. Therefore, you don’t open your own doors. Not to houses, buildings, or limos. You have someone to do that for you because you are Sovereign.”

Irritated, he turned from her and reached for his car door.

“You also need to move,” she added. “I’ve heard about this farmhouse, where you’ve been rooming in the attic. That is simply unacceptable. You need to live downtown, close to the den, in an exclusive high-rise type of place with some prestige. Now, I’ve got a couple of places in mind already—”

But Johnny didn’t hear the rest. He was already squealing tires out of the parking garage and headed into the ever-darkening night.

• • •

“I’m going in alone,” Liyliy said. “Watch for me. I will bring my sisters out.”

She let her magical senses guide her flawlessly as she reached for the rear door handle of the unmarked white van that had brought her and Giovanni to Cleveland. They had agreed that chartering a private flight would not go unreported to those at the local haven, while a vehicle could travel between states anonymously, and could arrive perfectly timed to make the best use of the night.

“Wait,” Giovanni said. “Take these.” He handed her three small objects.

Having used her ability to read a few people of this time period who were savvy with technology, she knew what these items were and how to use them, but . . .

“Why?” she asked.

“Mero and Menessos are both intelligent. While they may have imprisoned your sisters, I doubt that would be all they have done to secure them.”

Liyliy was angrily resistant at first—she’d break them out if she had to—but as seconds ticked by, she realized he was right. Her enemies were not to be underestimated.

“Even if they are not contained,” he added, “perhaps having spies within might be to our tactical advantage.”

“Spies?” Liyliy questioned.

With a sordid grin, Giovanni nodded.

“You said we cannot do this alone, and yet you ask me to make my sisters stay within that vile haven?”

“Increasing our numbers is the priority, but the opportunity to have eyes and ears in the home of our foe could be an invaluable asset. Surely you comprehend this?”

“You want me to let my sisters remain where they may be tortured or worse even if I can bring them out?”

“You have suffered greatly, Liyliy. I do not think your sisters will be treated as you have been, but I do think that while they may suffer somewhat, leaving them within this haven could make the difference that lets us win the day.”

She stared at him coldly. “They are not as strong as I am. They need me. We are stronger together.” That was, after all, her whole motive for getting them out.

“Consider it for a moment. We must all sacrifice for this war. Even your sisters.”

Without them to help her heal from this hideous disfigurement, she would be trapped as an ugly monster. I have given enough already . But Liyliy thought through the possibility of her sisters staying in the vampire’s homestead as spies while also being able to contact her with news. Giovanni was right. She could obtain information and guide them, control them, use them to their advantage.

Concentrating, she tapped into her quicksilver magic and caused a portion of her skirting to shrink and liquefy, sliding over her body until it had changed into a hidden pocket that would hold the phones. After she dropped them inside, she again reached for the door and exited the van. It quickly drove away.

Missing an eye affected her two ways: her field of vision was decreased, and judging distances was difficult. Darkness only intensified the impairment.

The evening was young. As she turned her head back and forth in a few quick sweeps to gauge her surroundings, she noted individuals and small groups milling around, some traversing the sidewalks. Seeing her, several people on the sidewalk gasped and their steps stalled until she had passed. Then they hurried on, whispering. She hobbled toward the haven, the contents of the hidden pocket bouncing against her hip, emphasizing her labored movement.

She smugly judged the doors she had smashed through when she’d left this horrid place. They were boarded up, unsightly. The destructive impact she’d had was wonderful. She would make everything ugly if she could.

Then she would not be so repulsive.

• • •

Goliath had summoned Mero to his office as soon as Menessos left. As the Excelsior’s advisor entered, he spoke a greeting and lowered himself into one of the comfortable seats across from the Haven Master’s large desk. “I assume the Erus Veneficus is on her way?”

It galled Goliath that his first direct order to his haven had been met with failure. Worse was having to admit as much to this high-ranking vampire. But it was Persephone Alcmedi that had gotten away. Goliath mentally kicked himself. I should have known better .

“The witch is not in the haven.”

Mero rose to his feet. “Where is she?”

Goliath wasn’t about to tell him they didn’t know, not yet. So he kept his expression one of poise and authority. “Please sit down, Meroveus.”

A moment passed, then the advisor sank stiffly onto the chair again. The questions he could have asked and the accusations he could have made all went unspoken, but his rigid mannerisms screamed of anger.

Goliath considered how he might stall for time, hoping that Menessos would bring the witch back. If he was able to achieve such a sham, he would avoid being seen as incapable by the Excelsior’s advisor. If caught, however, he would be doubly discredited. He haggled with himself, only to decide that—being a new Haven Master—in this instance guile would not serve him as well as directness and honesty.