Linda Robertson - Wicked Circle

Menessos gagged and coughed and wheezed for want of real air.

Liyliy guided their chant into a melodic song. Through the notes she sang, pieces of her aura traveled over the thresholds of the mental doorways opened by her mist, and she crawled around inside of him.

As one, she and her sisters lowered Menessos’s now rigid form to the floor so that he rested with his waist between Liyliy’s feet. She crouched over him.

The light shining up from the floor underneath him brightened. Yellow and blue and green shone up from around his torso, around his neck. She sensed the magic of the colorful stones, but it was too late. She was in a million pieces, in a million rooms of memory inside his mind. . . .

No!

Every room was empty.

Her chanting song changed in pitch and she rocked forward onto her knees—the spikes on her shins forced her to keep her toes flexed, but she had anticipated he would fight back. Without releasing Menessos or her sisters, Liyliy bucked and her body lifted into a handstand. Then she slammed the two-inch spikes on the front of her boots onto Menessos’s thighs.

He groaned under her and gritted his teeth.

You cannot hide the truth, Liyliy thought. Her legs straightened, slicing him open.

He screamed.

The tang of copper filled the air. As Liyliy sang on, her will filtered into the air and mingled with his blood. Inside him, she tore down the walls, until only framework and connecting wires remained. Tearing on these wires, she ripped them in two and sucked on their sparking ends—his memories exploded into her like lightning.

It jolted. It hurt. It burned her alive and it devoured her. She loved every second of it. No matter the aching cost, this revenge was bliss.

A thousand pieces of her swarmed into the room of his marks. He was hiding the memories she wanted, so she burrowed into the walls and found hundreds of thousands of wires interwoven like threads of madness. Gnawing on the tangled knots, she tasted of dozens of memories at once, duplicating their essence, always searching deeper, farther, wanting information that would hurt him or destroy him.

Every detail she could use, she consumed.

When Liyliy spoke, a wisp of power fluttered at the nape of my neck and I thought, Get ready, Johnny. Here it comes.

When the mist covered Menessos, when he gagged on it, I realized that I was holding my breath. A heartbeat later, his body trembled, then seized. It was unbearable, so I concentrated on Liyliy. She reacted to his suffering with vengeful glee.

Menessos had predicted this would be as painful to watch as it would be to bear. And he said not to interfere under any circumstances.

Giovanni, the newly arrived advisor, laughed out loud when Liyliy sliced Menessos open. He lay there helpless, wounded and bleeding, pouring out his life to defend me, to protect our trio. Despite my earlier wounds, my fists were clenched at my sides and I found myself contemplating the murder of this advisor.

He stood rapt in deviant delight as this gruesome scene played out. Of the non-haven members on the stage, only Meroveus appeared to have any distaste for the activity before us.

My vision grew blurry with tears I didn’t want to shed, but I was aware when Liyliy’s head suddenly snapped up in my direction. Peripherally, I detected Goliath also facing me. I blinked to force the tears out. The disbelief and confusion were so plain in his expression that I could see his self-questioning begin as he relived a few choice memories and searched for the clues he’d missed.

Menessos groaned in anguish, drawing my attention back to him . . . and Liyliy. Her eyes were condemning slits.

“Tell us!” Giovanni demanded.

She wrenched free of the others and pointed at me. “Twice-marked he is! By her!”

I spun to grab the broom leaning against my seat. Menessos had also told me to be ready to flee, and I was sooo out of here. “Awaken ye to life,” I whispered as soon as my hand was on the broomstick.

Then Goliath’s hand was on mine.

With a shocked gasp, I tried but couldn’t wrench free. “Strike me,” he said softly. “Now.”

I blinked stupidly but saw Giovanni heading toward me.

“Make it good, Lustrata, while I can still be of aid.”

I yanked free and smacked the handle of the broomstick across his forehead. He stumbled back.

I lowered my grip on the broom and swung it at him, connecting with the side of his head. Off balance, he tumbled off the dais and right against Giovanni. Both fell down hard.

“Restrain her!” Giovanni croaked.

Liyliy struggled to her feet—her footwear wasn’t making it easy.

Frankly, straddling a broom in a hurry wasn’t easy. Doing so in a dress was worse. The dress’s high, high slit made the straddling part easier, but actually sitting the broom with my feet tucked up behind me and my toes curled over the dried and dyed-black straw was completely immodest. Everyone could see my undies as I flew up and across the former theater.

I heard Mero say, “Get her, Liyliy. Bring her to me.”

A screech—a terrible, grating and inhuman sound—filled the theater. Over my shoulder I saw Liyliy’s body transforming, becoming something owl-like. Something with wings.

Shit.

I intentioned the broom faster, hunkering as I shot past Sever and through the double doors of the theater entrance. The broom skidded sideways in the hall. Accustomed to flying in the wide-open sky, I meant to use more speed than was wise. I needed to maneuver, and there wasn’t enough room to accelerate.

At the bottom of the staircase, I could hear the sounds of giant wings struggling with a space not large enough for them. A shriek of frustration chased me up the stairwell, but so did the crack of splintering wood. Liyliy wasn’t giving up.

On the ground floor, I turned toward the ticket booth, shouting, “Open the doors!” to the guards ahead. The vampire on duty did as he was bidden, then—bless him—recognized that he’d be in the way. To his credit, he hit the ground and propped the door open with his torso.

I intentioned the broom up and avoided the people on the sidewalk just beyond the haven’s entrance. The abruptness and manner of my exit caused people to point and shout. Heading due north, I looked back and saw Liyliy crash through the haven doors, shattering them. The people’s shouts changed into screams. She had become a giant black owl, stumbling about on her talons before her flapping wings caught air.

Intent on my escape, I wondered where I could go.

Not the den. Wait! I have a dragon at home.

As I sped up and into the night, I passed over the Cleveland Memorial Shoreway and wondered if I could ask that much of Zoltan. He had no wings. Sure, Creepy had transformed him for the purpose of my protection, but leading this harpy to my house meant putting all of my animals and Mountain in danger. A standoff wouldn’t be pretty even if I did win, and, worse, she could use everything there as leverage.

Where would I have an advantage over a giant, pissed-off owl? Certainly not high up in the wide-open sky. Maybe I could outmaneuver her. Just as I was closing in on the water of Lake Erie, I intentioned a hard left and zoomed south around the backside of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Skimming the North Coast Harbor walkway, I heard a screech and shot upward, rocketing over the dome of the Great Lakes Science Center and heading for the turbine.

Owls are renowned for their specialized feathers that afford them nearly silent flight, so I kept checking behind me. Liyliy had been gaining, but my evasive spin cost her. She was pumping her wings hard.