Linda Robertson: Fatal Circle

As I kept my arms raised, Johnny placed my hands on the bars atop the open cage door, and squeezed my grip to indicate I should let them remain there.

His warm fingers traced every contour of my arms, slowly descending until he could brush my hair away from my ear on one side. He put the line of his body against the back of me and nuzzled against my ear. While he sucked gently on my earlobe, his hands shifted toward my breasts.

A trembling resonance fluttered up my spine. Heat was building low in my abdomen. Sensations jolted through me like electricity, and all thought of tiredness fled.

Abruptly, the cellar door creaked open and crashed loudly against the ground outside. “I locked that,” Johnny muttered.

Someone was coming down the steps. We turned to see who—

Menessos.

The vampire descended with an elegant gait and casually inspected the cobwebbed space, all but ignoring us. My aura could feel his breath and the warmth of his skin. At least he’s fed.

The heat. The energetic desire. Had it been Johnny’s ministrations or the vampire’s presence that caused it? Menessos’s presence had stirred a similar reaction in me at the Eximium, but Johnny stirred my proverbial flames pretty damned well all by himself.

Menessos had played Arthur Pendragon in my dreams long before we’d ever met. With his walnut-colored hair in carelessly regal waves and his trim beard, he resembled a king of times past. Of course, in those dreams he wore medieval clothing; seeing him in a suit—probably Armani or something equally expensive—still seemed odd to me.

Amusement lit his features when he saw my hands covering my breasts. He averted his gray eyes and donned an apologetic expression. “Pardon my interruption.” Menessos sat down on my dirty cellar stairs with no more regard for his designer slacks than if he were seating himself in a cozy chair. He then placed his elbows on the step behind and let his legs stretch out before him.

It didn’t look like he was planning on leaving any time soon.

“How’d you get in here?” Johnny demanded as he repositioned himself to shield me from Menessos’s view. He stripped off his overshirt and gave it to me. “She reinstated the wards. And I locked the cellar door.”

I shot my arms into the shirt’s sleeves and started buttoning.

“I have my ways.” The vampire was smiling; though I couldn’t see him from behind Johnny, I could tell by the tone of his voice.

“Forget how,” I said, pushing past Johnny. “Why?”

“I’d like to have Xerxadrea’s hanky. The one with my blood.” He added, “Please.”

“Why do you want it?” I asked.

“She nearly lost it once already and the fairies could”—he flashed a glance at Johnny—“use it against me, magically. To keep that from happening, it must be destroyed. I prefer burned.”

“Déjà vu,” Johnny said. “I’m sensing a theme here. Red keeps ending up with things that are dangerous to you, and you want them burned. First the stake. Now the hanky. I bet it was some firebug like you who started the whole witch-burning thing way back when.”

“Fire destroys. Water cleanses. Air distributes. Earth absorbs. All equally effective at releasing the threat, but fire is the fastest, surest method.” Menessos crossed his ankles; the movement caused my aura to ripple like the surface of water.

At the Eximium I’d shielded using something akin to the witch hand-jolt—a “friendly” way to assess someone else’s power—and found I was able to reduce the effects of the vampire’s presence. I drew that jolt-shield tight around me as I darted back into the kennel and bent to pick up the discarded bustier. I’d tucked the hanky in my costume earlier and hadn’t even considered it when being undressed. I searched the velvet top. The hanky had remained in the bustier.

“Here.” I held the crusty fabric before me as I approached him.

Immediately on his feet, Menessos snatched it from my fingertips. He crouched by the candle and held the dirty square of dark fabric over the flame until it had caught, then tossed it to the floor. The harsh shadows caused by the candlelight gave his face a crazed appearance as he whispered, leaning in to be certain every scrap of fabric was consumed. Thankfully, the fabric burned quickly—but I couldn’t say I was thankful for the smelly smoke it left wafting about the cellar.

“Now you should go,” I said. We’d already established that both of us knew the bond between us had inverted and I was the master. He had to obey. Or so I hoped. It was my strong suspicion that he wasn’t going to prove an obedient servant.

“Hold on, Red.” Johnny jerked the pull chain on the overhead light. It was a harsh hundred watts. “I want the vampire to explain how he got past the wards.”

Good question.

Menessos stood. Directing his reply to me, he said, “Perhaps the details are not meant for your lover’s ears?”

“Perhaps you’re wrong.” Johnny was obviously not going to back down, even for someone who’d kicked his ass a few weeks ago.

“It’s a magical secret, and should be hers to share. Or not.”

“Oh.” I realized Menessos meant his binding to me superseded the wards I’d created. “That.”

“What?” Johnny asked.

Knowing he needed to feel he was one up on Menessos and to be shown that I trusted him, I said, “The binding allows him access.” While that was true, it wasn’t the full answer. I hadn’t yet explained to Johnny that Menessos was bound to me, and not the other way around.

“Figures.” Johnny pointed at the stairs. “But now you can go.”

“Wait.” I waved at the smoky air to encourage it up and out into the night. “If, despite the wards, you can enter because of our binding, does your binding to the fairies follow the same principle?”

A gratified expression registered on Menessos’s face. He’d recognized my question as somewhat insightful and seemed pleased. “I am not certain. That is the second reason for my presence: to stand guard over you until your perimeter wards can be rebuilt.”

Johnny crossed his arms for bouncer-perfect emphasis. “I can protect her.”

“Yes, but with your pants off and your other head doing all the thinking, perhaps it is best to let me have that responsibility for a night.”

Exasperated, I angled myself between them with my palms out like a boxing referee. “I increased my wards after Aquula was here.” A mermaid water fairy, Aquula was one of the four fairies bound to Menessos—and the only one who didn’t resent the connection and wish him truly dead and gone. In fact, she’d actually swooned at the mention of his name.

“Your wards are strong, Persephone, but now that you’ve killed one of them you must not take the chance. You require something specifically antifey. Xerxadrea and her talented lucusi are preparing it even now.”

“They let me fly home on the broom and they didn’t say anything about it.”

“Of course not. But I am certain they saw you home safely, whether or not you were aware of it. Xerxadrea and I discussed all of this at the Ball. I left early, as you may recall. I did so in order to make arrangements that would allow me to comply with her request.”

Curious. “What was her request, exactly?”

“That I come here and watch over you until they had the wards up—”

“You could have stayed outside and done that,” Johnny said under his breath.

“They’re not coming until dawn, Menessos,” I said matter-of-factly. “You’ll have to leave before then.”

“Or perhaps you would be so kind as to allow me to stay down here for the day?” Menessos gestured to indicate the cellar. “It’s not exactly what I’m accustomed to, but on more than a few occasions I’ve been forced to sleep in worse accommodations.”