Linda Robertson - Arcane Circle

The blame in her words struck me harder than Vilna’s hand.

We remained silent for heartbeats. With my fingers making a V, I touched her forehead and pushed gently upward as I said, “Hold on there, wrinkly-mad eyebrows.”

That made her brows knit tighter. “My mom used to let Goliath drink from her. Then everything got messed up!” She jumped off my lap, flinging her arms out and knocking the glass to the floor where it shattered. “Now she’s dead!” Beverley ran from the kitchen.

I was left alone with the spilled milk and shards of broken glass. I dropped to my knees and started piling the larger pieces in my palm.

My breath caught.

My mother had showed up and it ended with me smashing my favorite mug. Her words from so long ago echoed through my mind: I’ll never have anything and it’s all because of you, you stupid little brat.

Eris was selfish. She did what she needed—locking me in my room so she could go on dates and ultimately she abandoned me with Nana.

As I stared at the sharp fragments in my hand, I wondered if I was any different. I’d done what I needed to do as the Lustrata. Though I’d acted to safeguard Beverley since her mother died, I wasn’t exactly Mary Poppins. Because of me, Beverley had been kidnapped and nearly killed by the fairies. Now, because of me, she may not even have any friends.

Maybe she’d be better off—and safer—with someone else.

A half hour later, with the milk and glass cleaned up, I sat in front of my computer trying to work on my column when the phone rang again. Nana had the cordless with her so I didn’t move to answer. Not that I was getting much work done while sitting there feeling like a complete failure and social pariah.

I took the protrepticus from my jeans’ pocket and opened it. No light. I shut it and laid it on the desk. Earlier that day, it had rung. Sam had spoken to me. And Xerxadrea was dead. Her death should have broken the bond between her and Sam and me. His spirit should have been freed and gone from the device.

Questions piled up in my mind like a traffic jam. It was after sunset; maybe Menessos could provide some answers. I reached for the satellite phone.

“Seph,” Nana croaked from the top of the stairs. “It’s for you.”

I left the satellite phone where it was and replaced the protrepticus in my pocket as I walked to the kitchen and picked up the corded phone. Phones everywhere. “Got it,” I called back. “Hello?”

“It’s me,” Theo said. I heard the click telling me Nana had shut off the cordless.

“How’s the memorial going?” I asked.

“Depressing. I just left.” I heard her car door shut. “The wife and family of the one guy are shocked and sad and grieving like you’d expect. The other guy’s girlfriend is totally losing it. Last I saw, the crying women had Johnny looking overwhelmed. He said to tell you he’d be late getting in, and that the wæres who survived are scheduled for tomorrow around ten or ten-thirty.”

“In the morning?”

“Yeah. Seems weird to be doing a moonlight spell during the daytime, huh?”

“The moon is in the sky during the day as often as it is at night,” I muttered. The time they’d set meant I couldn’t have Menessos with me. While the wæres would probably have objected to the vampire being present anyway, having him as a backup would have made me feel better.

I heard papers rustle and Theo said, “The moon rises tonight about five minutes to midnight, and sets tomorrow afternoon at one-thirty-ish. They want to do this at the den and someone calculated it all for him and said the westward windows will have the moon in view by ten in the morning.”

A heavy sigh seeped out as I stretched the cord and sank into my desk seat again.

“Are you all right?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I knew he was going to schedule it for tomorrow but it’s been one train wreck after another here today and I haven’t gathered the supplies or reviewed the ritual. I’ll need to do that tonight.”

“You’ll be able to do it, though, right?”

“Oh yeah,” I assured her. “It’s not that.” I didn’t want her to think any of the wæres might be endangered due to a lack of preparation on my part. “There’s just a lot on my metaphorical plate right now.”

“I hear ya.” She gave her own little sigh. “And speaking of other things we have to do … my source at WEC got back to me. She can’t find any leads on witches named Arcanum who are tattoo artists. Is there anything else you can tell me, anything at all, that might refine the parameters even a little?”

“No,” I whispered. If this is two separate people, why did I get just one name?

Most witches took an alternate name for spell work. Typically, they used an animal, flower, or gemstone, or a combination of names. Sometimes it was simply an ancient name or archaic word. “Arcanum” sounded to me like it fell into the latter category. Either way, since these magical names were attached to spells, witches didn’t share them on the WEC rosters. Theo’s source wasn’t going to find anything helpful. “Can you flip the search? Try the name itself or the tattoo artist aspect.”

“I’m on that, but the witch angle was a smaller net to cast and sort through so I concentrated my efforts there,” Theo said. “You’re a solitary. You’re listed.”

She’d looked. Hmmm. “That’s because my family’s lineage is traceable back centuries on their rosters. I’m the black sheep doing my own thing without a coven, but Nana wouldn’t let me not register.”

“So it’s optional?”

“Yes. Some people prefer to keep their religious beliefs a secret.”

“Ahhh. Speaking of secrets, do you care to share what all this is about, or do you have to keep it on the down low?”

“Do you remember, after I did that spell that forced you to transform, when you asked Johnny about his tattoos and he got all tight-lipped?”

“Yeah. Found out they’re his sore spot.”

“They’re more than that. They’re the crux of his past.” This information was Johnny’s to tell, but she needed to know it to do her job. She kenneled at my house and I’d saved her life, so I trusted her. “Johnny’s power is bound in his tattoos. We need to find the person who gave them to him and get that power unlocked so he can transform easily. Hopefully, he’ll get his memories back, too.”

“You didn’t say this was for him.”

“Can I claim the multiple train wrecks again?”

“Sure. But if this is for Johnny, I’m going to call in favors across the network.”

“Hey, don’t broadcast that he has a weakness.”

“I know better than that. No offense, Seph, you’re one of my very best friends and your requests rank high, but my pack takes priority. Knowing my dirija is involved makes finding this Arcanum my prime objective.”

“No offense taken, Theo. None meant to you, either. Protecting the people I care about comes first. Sometimes, it seems like saying less is safer for everyone.”

“It’s okay, Seph. If I’ve learned anything in the investigative business, it’s that knowing when to share and when not to share is just as important and dicey as knowing whom to share with.”

With the spell scheduled for early tomorrow, and Nana busy with Beverley, it was time for me to get some answers to my lingering questions about what I intended to do.

Using the satellite phone, I called Menessos from my bedroom. He answered on the third ring. Laughter in the background preceded his delayed greeting. “Hello, Persephone.” The sound of his voice caused warmth to flow over me like a slow, heated tremor. “What might I do for you?”