Linda Robertson - Shattered Circle

• • •

The cabbie was literally going out of his way to make his fare larger, and it pissed Johnny off, but he said nothing as the man made another turn.

When they pulled up in front of the blue marquee, Plympton, who had been silent the whole way, got out. Johnny handed the cabbie a twenty, letting his hand go furry as the man reached to accept it. He recoiled with a gasp. “Superior to Thirteenth was the shortest way,” Johnny said to the driver, who was cowering against his door. “If you ever drive me again, don’t try to cheat me.” He hurried to catch up with Plympton, who’d already disappeared inside the silver-steel doors.

Inside, the yellow and white checkerboard floors gleamed in the bright lights. The old man was approaching the lockers, checking numbers against the one on the key. When he found it, he stopped and turned, waiting.

To Johnny’s surprise, Plympton offered him the key.

He accepted it, then wondered if the locker might be booby-trapped. Or if Plympton planned to whack him in the head when he was distracted.

Stop it . Still, he angled himself slightly away from the diviza as he slid the key into the lock. Gently, he turned the key and heard the mechanism inside click. Delicately, he opened the door a crack. He did not see any wires or smell anything that made him wary. So he pushed it wider. Plympton moved closer.

Inside lay a key fob, with one key and a paper tag secured to it with a green twist tie. Johnny lifted the key and examined the tag. Written on it in Aurelia’s scripted cursive was:

AKRON-CANTON AIRPORT. Long-term parking. White Nissan Altima.

A license plate number was printed on the tag.

The two men locked gazes. “Looks like we’re a-needin’ another cab.”

Shortly later, a different driver for the same company dropped them at the RTA Flats East Bank station. This one had wisely taken the most direct route to get them there.

Plympton made a comment about Johnny’s “racy-looking vehicle” and grumbled as he climbed into the Maserati’s “low” passenger seat, which explained why they had used the Cadillac Escalade limousine earlier.

Johnny knew it was about an hour’s drive from here to the Lauby Road airport, and about forty-five minutes from there to Red’s, plus the time it took to find and deal with the Altima—it better not send them on to another location. He didn’t have the time to run around all night. Demeter was on her way. In fact, she should arrive at the farmhouse in an hour. He texted Kirk: Get an update on the arrival time of the Pittsburgh group for me.

By the time they were on I-77, the reply arrived: ETA 1 hr 23 mins as per their GPS. Took some time 2 reach someone @ Pittsburgh den, have them reply to the request & find 2 wæres 2 take the job, then get them 2 the tattoo parlor 2 pick up the passenger.

Johnny texted back: Good enuf. Thx.

So he had to haul ass on the interstate to be able to get to the farmhouse when Demeter did. He locked in the cruise control at 90 mph.

Ailo followed Goliath and Menessos across the stage and up. Vinny had followed as well. In the hall outside the theater, three more guards joined them. When they climbed the steps to the first floor there were five guards with thick gloves on their hands waiting for them at the top. With a nod from Goliath, they charged down the hall and barged through a door marked ACCOUNTING OFFICE.

The next few minutes were a blur of screaming rage from Talto, gloved guards restraining her, and the call for someone to bring smelling salts to rouse the accountant from his stupor.

Ailo was surprised that Menessos and Goliath didn’t immediately jump into questioning the youngest shabbubitu, but their priority was securing the haven’s funds. Everyone here was focused on Talto’s tantrum. Ailo knew if she could slip away, this might be her best chance to abscond with the child.

But dawn was only a few hours away. She would have to find a place to secure both herself and the child for the day . . . a place the Beholders would not discover.

I could call Liyliy. She must have mortals at her disposal . . . she would aid us, and she would have the resources to get us far from here.

But Ailo wasn’t certain she wanted to share the prize with her elder sister.

The guard sent for the medical supplies returned and the accountant was roused. Before he had fully recovered himself, he slid into the seat at the computer, straightened his glasses, and furious typing ensued.

As all this transpired, Talto resisted her captors. She ranted, spewing vile insults, threats, and phrases of hatred at Menessos. “My treachery will never cease, Menessos. I will loathe you for eternity and I will gnaw at you until I taste vengeance!” She jerked loose and launched herself across the room at Ailo. “And you, you bitch!” she cried. “You exposed me! I was only trying to ensure our escape!” The guards recovered Talto, but she jerked one arm free. She slapped her sister hard before she was brought under control again.

Menessos must have had enough of her taunts. He walked over, pushed her head to the side, and bit into her neck. She squirmed and screamed—tearing wider the wound his fangs made. He drank and drank. When she slumped in the arms of the guards holding her, Ailo cried, “Master! Please, show mercy to my sister.”

Snarling, Menessos spun around. His thin beard was covered in blood. In a flash he was before Ailo, his hand wrapping her throat, pressing her to the wall. “What she sought to steal was mine, and it is my right to exact compensation!”

“Yes, Master. Yes,” Ailo pleaded, holding her reddened cheek. “But do not kill her. Please.”

Even as she spoke, the blood he drank affected him. The dark circles under his eyes vanished, his cheeks were no longer sunken. She knew he had gifted the child, but she wondered what else he had done this evening that had drained him so.

He was touching her.

Even as her eyes fluttered shut to search for the answers in their physical contact, he jerked away. “No!” he shouted and raised his hand as if to strike her.

She cowered before him and slid down the wall to sit on the floor. “I helped you!” she blubbered pitifully, her hands defensively raised above her head. “I helped you again!”

Menessos held his pose, rigid, breathing hard, then lowered his arm. “That you did.”

“I’ve almost fixed it,” the accountant said.

Everyone’s attention transferred to him and the computer screen.

With every back turned to her, Ailo eased along the floor and silently exited the room. She headed directly for the suites beyond the theater.

• • •

The gloved guards held Talto as she struggled, and their hands flitted about her body in their efforts to keep her contained. She had to be mindful of the fabric of her dress moving and resituating repeatedly to keep the phone from being discovered.

The anger was so easy to show because it was real. The struggle was easy to make because she didn’t want to be restrained. It was shouting at Ailo that was hard. But Talto knew when the guard’s grip loosened a little that she could break free, that she could fling herself at her sister and scream her condemnation. She knew that would be convincing to the audience at hand.

She did not expect to actually slap Ailo. She thought the guards would pull her back before the attempt succeeded. It hurt her greatly that she was able to get that strike onto her sister’s face.

But it hurt her more to read in that brief touch that Ailo’s concern was only about fleeing and stealing the powerful child. There was nothing in her sister’s thoughts that betrayed a concern for Talto’s plight. In fact, there was a measure of pleasure in it for Ailo.