Linda Robertson - Fatal Circle

That was probably as good an oath as I’d ever get. “Do you remember when I told you that I’d figured out my troublesome issue with the stain?”

“Yup. You told me not to ‘let any stab of jealousy wound me.’” He semisang the words I’d used. I poked him in the ribs. “What? I used it in some lyrics.”

I should have known. I squeezed his waist with my fingers. He was so solid and firm muscled. I regretted Menessos’s interrupting us last night. “When I took Vivian’s stake into my hands . . .” I considered telling him the whole of it, but I’d put off these words too long already. Short version . “I flipped the binding. I didn’t know it at first, but it’s become very clear. Menessos isn’t my master. I’m his.”

Johnny blinked at me as that sank in. “You mean—”

“Yeah,” I said when he didn’t go on. “I’m not stained, so I’m not going to be manipulated by him. He’s hexed. I have power over him.”

Johnny launched into laughter. “Then there’s no need for you to become that tiara-wearing heiress-thing.”

“E-R-U-S. Air-oose. And, actually, there is. We have to keep everyone else thinking that he’s the master.”

“Why?”

“The fairies will want to hold him responsible for my actions anyway. If he’s the master, he’s responsible for my actions. It serves the purpose. And it’s my charge to keep things in balance, including the vampire balance. He’s perceived as a very powerful master. If he’s outmastered . . . you see all the trouble that would follow?”

“Sure, but why should we care if his cronies know you’re even more powerful than he is? That benefits you.”

“Lower vampires with a desire to move up might challenge him. It could cause an unending parade of challenges—”

“So?”

“So that wouldn’t help the balance.”

“Pendulum’s gotta swing, Red. Things may be better when the smoke of charred vamp bodies clears.”

I ignored the jibe. “Still, I’m his master, Johnny. I’m responsible for his safety, like I am for Beverley’s.”

“Uh-uh,” he said firmly. “Not ‘like’ Beverley’s. She’s a kid. He’s a master vamp. He can take care of himself.”

“The fey are going to try to kill him. I can’t sit idly by and let that happen. I can do something about it. I’m the Lustrata, I’m supposed to do something about it.”

“You do the right thing, for the right reason.” He pulled me close again. “That’s my girl.” He stroked my hair and we just held each other. “Who else knows you’re the boss?”

Downstairs, through my thin floor, I heard the phone ring.

“Menessos knows, of course. Xerxadrea. You.” My totem animal Amenemhab also knew it, but he was my counsel and no one else’s. He didn’t need to be on the list. “I know this sucks. I just can’t risk Beverley having to suffer because I wouldn’t step up to the plate.”

“And what if it’s you that she needs here, not Demeter?”

What am I going to say to her?

“Persephone!” Nana called.

Johnny released me and I opened the bedroom door. “Yes?”

“Telephone.”

“Take a message.”

“I tried. He insisted there was little time.”

I went out and down the stairs. “Who is it?”

Nana shrugged. “Dunno. But the walking corpse went back to the cellar,” she said as I passed her. Good .

In the kitchen I lifted the receiver to my ear wondering where my cordless was hiding. Probably between couch cushions. “Hello?”

“Is everything all right?” It was Jimmy Martin, editor for my “Waere Are You” column.

“Yeah, why?”

“It’s Wednesday, your column is due, and I didn’t get it yesterday like usual.”

Oh, hell. On top of all my other worries, I still have a job. “Just polishing it up right now, Jimmy. It’ll be in your in-box in less than an hour, okay? I promise.”

I spent the next hour furiously scolding myself for forgetting about it and putting my notes together into a readable column. The only reason I got it done at all was because I was doing a series on waere parenting and this was part three. A premise and supporting notes were already compiled. Still, it was far from my best work.

It was just after four when the front door shut loudly, announcing Johnny had dropped Beverley off. He had to go work on guitars, some German order that came in, but he planned to be back at dusk to go with me and Menessos to Cleveland.

Beverley stopped at my bedroom door on her way to her own. Her book bag dragged behind her and the usual boisterous fourth-grader energy was absent. Everything about her was evidence of how tired she was. “Have a good day?”

“Yeah. I have some math to do.”

“Give me a few minutes and I’ll help, okay?” I was finishing up my packing.

“I don’t need help, I know how to do it. Why are you packing?”

“I have to go away for a few days.”

“Where are you going to go?”

“To Menessos’s.”

Sinking onto the edge of the bed, I patted the spot next to me so she’d come and sit with me. “Remember when we carved the pumpkins and had our safety talk about handling knives?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s rule number one?”

“Safety first.”

“Right.” Damn, this was hard. “See, the fairies are mad about one of them being killed—even if it was in self-defense. They’re making threats. So, in order to keep that safety rule, I’m going away to make sure you and Nana are safe.

“Just a few days?”

“I hope.”

Her fingers fidgeted, but she said nothing.

“Beverley?”

“What about my birthday? Will you be back for that?”

Shit, I’d forgotten! Her birthday was the ninth, so I had eight days. “I don’t know how all of this is going to go, so I can’t swear I will be here on your official tenth birthday, but I can promise I’ll do everything possible to be here.”

“Okay.” She played with the zipper on my suitcase. She didn’t seem convinced.

“What is it?” I prompted.

“Will we be safe here, without you?”

“Those witches put in new wards this morning, it is very safe here. But you still have to wear the necklace when you leave—”

“I won’t forget that again.”

I put my arm around her shoulder and squeezed to reassure her. “Then yes, you’ll be safe.”

Over the side of the bed, her feet swung and clunked together at the heels. “What about Johnny?”

“He’s coming with me. And there’s one more thing.”

“What’s that?”

“I remember how mad you got when Vivian said mean things about me, so I’m telling you now: as part of keeping you safe here, Nana is going to tell some newspeople that she’s very mad at me. She’ll probably say mean things like she never wants to see me again.” I leaned in to whisper. “But secretly, everything’s okay. She’s pretending, so everyone will think she’s mad. You have to pretend it, too, if anyone asks.”

Beverley squinted. “Why?”

“I doubt anyone will pester you over this, but if anyone besides Nana talks to you about it, just say you’re never talking to me again. If they pressure you, just say you don’t want to talk about it. Can you do that?”

“Yeah.”

“You won’t bring it up or mention it to anyone?”

“Geez. No. I didn’t talk about fairies today. Just like I said.”

“Beverley, you are amazing.” I hugged her again. “I’m going to miss you while I’m gone, kiddo.”

She squeezed me tight. “You will be back, right?”

“Count on it. And I promise you this: when it’s over, we are having the biggest party for you. Johnny will make the cake and we’ll invite all your friends from school, okay?” I made a mental note: weather permitting, find ponies for riding.