Linda Robertson - Wicked Circle

“Yes, please.” Zhan was as good a sentinel as I could hope for. Better, even. She felt like a friend. That made what I knew I had to do even harder. “I need you to stay here.”

“Menessos gave direct orders that you were not to go anywhere unescorted.”

“They could be at the ER a long time. I don’t want the elementals to be here alone.”

“The perimeter guards—”

“The animals don’t know them. They know you.”

Zhan unhappily capitulated. Mountain backed slowly away, saying, “I’ll get my truck.”

“Guardians of the element of water, I consecrate these items.”

Standing before my bedroom altar, I dipped a pine sprig into a bowl of hallowed water and let my trembling hand shake drops from the leaves over the items I’d been given this morning at Wolfsbane and Absinthe. I’d already said the verses for earth, air and fire. “Banish the energies of previous owners or those who have made or touched these items. Purify them with your fluid force. Charge them with your liquid energy that these tools may now be sacred.”

Some items were best blessed under certain moons, but since Johnny wanted me to do the spell in about an hour and a half, the current waxing moon phase would have to do. Palms hovering above the items on my altar, I added, “May all astrological correspondences be correct for this working.”

I thanked Hecate and the elements, and then extinguished the candles.

In ritual, concentration is key. Being in full control of the conscious mind and silencing the random thoughts, the doubts and worries, is essential for successful magic. Not surprisingly, self-discipline is one of a witch’s best assets. I’m usually pretty good at maintaining concentration. Today, however, that proved a struggle. I’d paused and put a barrier up with my ritual circle to help keep anxiety out of the magic working. As I released the circle, all my worries flooded back into the forefront of my mind.

The shabbubitum will be here in a few hours.

I have to do the forced-change spell on the roof of the den and get Beau’s half-formed son back to normal.

Menessos sent Creepy here, and now Zoltan is a five-clawed emperor dragon.

I was eager for Menessos to rise so I could interrogate him, but there was a whole lot of magic to be done between now and then.

My satellite phone rang. I checked the display. It was my mother calling.

Eris snorted as Persephone’s voice rattled out a standard “please leave a message” recording. She hung up and immediately went to her “woogie room,” her magical supply room. She kept her ritual gemstones in stacked compartmented plastic cases, in alphabetical order. Setting them aside until she had the right case, she put it on the table and opened it. The case wasn’t easy to open, but only because her thumb wasn’t accustomed to the dexterous little flick that it required. She reached inside for the petrified wood and noticed her opals were gone.

Puzzled, she selected the stone she was after and shut the lid. She replaced the cases as they should be. She rummaged through her runestones and chose Dagaz—the one like a letter X between two bars, and Ehwaz, the one like an M.

Spiritually, the former rune was associated with awakening and awareness, and the latter with movement and change for the better. The petrified wood was ruled by spirit, by Akasha. Eris dropped the stone and runes inside a small plastic cup, added a white candle and a lighter and carried them to her room. Persephone didn’t have to answer her phone, but Eris was going to enlist some help getting Persephone to come to her senses.

Johnny sat in a white office with his hands in his lap. It felt like being in a principal’s office. But he was on the wrong side of the desk—as in behind it.

The wide mahogany desk had lots of drawers. Matching filing cabinets were positioned conveniently behind him. There was a computer, a planner, stapler and a blotter. A metal cup contained a dozen ink pens. All the stuff a desk-jockey would need.

But the worn leather seat he occupied had long ago conformed to someone else’s body.

Ignatius.

This was the office of the dirija . Formerly, Ignatius Tierney sat here. For now, this was Johnny’s office, and presently Todd, the second-in-command of the pack, and Chris LaCroix, the regional adevar, were seated across from him. Todd was blathering on about a meeting they’d just had with the Ohio Department of Transportation. ODOT had put a new compensation package on the table concerning their bid to buy and tear down the Cleveland Cold Storage building for the new I-90 project. Johnny had opted out of the meeting because he hadn’t been to any of the previous meetings, but Todd had attended them all. Besides, after the coronation Todd would become dirija , and whatever decision they came to would affect his rule.

“Can you believe it?” It was evident that Todd felt the city was trying to bully them into accepting the bid. “If they think Ig was the only one with balls around here, man, are they in for a surprise.”

The adevar, a Zvonul agent in the wærewolf version of the IRS, had journeyed here with the former Rege. He had searched the pack’s financial records on that Rege’s order, and when he’d been made aware of this matter concerning the building, he’d sent a formal inquiry to ODOT, which had clearly made the area reps nervous. This new deal was part of the result.

A typical visit from an adevar was like being audited. They were accountants with all the authority of a governor, should they choose to exercise it. According to Todd, this particular adevar, Chris LaCroix, was the “least prickish” one he had ever met. Todd had told Johnny that they’d “lucked out” getting this guy, but Johnny wasn’t as impressed. He knew Chris was the little brother of the one major boyfriend Persephone had had in college.

He wondered if Chris had told his big brother that he’d run into her.

“What do you think, Mr. LaCroix?”

“I contacted Celia Randolph, a local Realtor and member of this pack. According to her report addressing real estate in this area, and considering the age of the structure and the revenue from the billboards, ODOT’s offering what this building is worth. But.”

“But?” Johnny prompted.

“That can’t even begin to cover the cost of purchasing an existing building in the area and making the necessary modifications, nor can it cover the cost of buying land and building a new structure. The mayor threw in some tax breaks, but it doesn’t provide what we need to relocate this den.”

“Options?”

Chris said, “I’ve sent a complete dossier about the matter to my diviza .”

The door to Johnny’s office was open, and in the room beyond he could see Kirk’s feet propped on the desk. A few other wæres were also lounging out there, listening to iPods or watching movies on their cell phones. Then Kirk’s feet plopped down.

“You told ODOT this?” Johnny asked Chris.

“Yes.”

“You should have seen their faces!” Todd sneered.

“I imagine in the next few weeks the diviza will visit Cleveland to negotiate.”

Kirk appeared in the doorway. “She’s here. Parking lot cameras showing Persephone and two idiots wearing field-camo who came in just behind her.”

“Send our men to the roof. Tranquilize William and transport him. I’ll bring her.” Johnny stood. “Chris, if you’ll excuse Todd and me, we have something to attend to.”

“Of course.”

Johnny walked out of the office and entered the elevator. During the descent he reached up to grip the upper edge, stretching to loosen stiff muscles. The contraption lurched to a stop just as Seph shut the door on her Toyota Avalon.