Linda Robertson - Fatal Circle

“I trust you now understand that what has transpired had to be, Persephone?”

“I’m going to be made EV tomorrow evening, so yeah.” I took some broccoli and celery out of the refrigerator.

“Have you seen the news?”

“Yeah. You, too, I suppose.” I wasn’t about to let her and who-knows-who-else know our side of things. I separated the celery stalks and rinsed them off.

“For what it is worth, I am sorry things have had to go so far, Persephone. But we can still rectify this. I am certain you can repair that relationship if you put things right.”

“I am becoming his Erus Veneficus.”

“I have news that may change your mind. WEC made contact with the fairies.”

“And?”

“Their demands are simple: they want Menessos dead. No negotiation.”

We knew that. I shook the vegetables over the sink and placed them on the cutting board with the pepper. “What was WEC’s response?” I picked up the knife.

“They agreed.”

“What?” I put the knife down. No sense taking extra risk of spilling my blood in the haven, huh? “How can they agree to that?” I gave her the easy argument and cited the Rede: “An’ it harm none.”

“An’ it harm some, do as ye must, ” she replied. “He’s already dead. What else are they supposed to do? They have nothing to bargain with. An all-out war means both sides lose.”

If I’d had any doubt about others listening, that sealed it. She knew he was yet alive. “Since both sides would lose, that means they’re bluffing. WEC should call their bluff.”

“The red fairy is not bluffing. I fear she has gone mad.”

I took a deep breath. My uneasy emotions were building, casting a shadow that darkened my view of the situation. Too much of that lately. What was happening between WEC and the fey was necessary. Both sides were posturing and saying what must be said. “So WEC is buying time to prepare?”

“As are the fairies.”

“So why are you calling me?”

“To convince you to deliver him.”

“ Riiight .”

“We know that as a pending Erus Veneficus, you are already bound to him, and that such a task will be difficult. However, you are also unique in strength. We are confident you will have the opportunity to seize control, and we expect that when opportunity arises you will take advantage of it. Officially, you are hereby duly notified: WEC commands you to deliver the vampire Menessos to the location known as Headlands Dunes on Lake Erie at dawn this coming Sunday.”

That was way east of Cleveland. “And what do I get out of it?”

“They will count compliance with this command as proof that you are the Lustrata.”

“And if I refuse? Perhaps it’s in my best interest to not give them such proof. Even without the Erus Veneficus business, they wouldn’t all be on my side.”

“That’s very true. If that is your decision, the Council are deliberating, weighing the risks of angering the Vampire Executive International Network by taking him themselves.”

As if they could. “Sounds like avoiding one war only to start another.”

“WEC can negotiate with the vampires more easily.”

“With blood.”

“Exactly. That does seem to render the least harm. The fey will take many lives in a war, or a single life to avert it. If the latter comes to pass, it may cost WEC some blood, but our blood can be regenerated.”

“So basically you’re saying that the Witches Council has already sold me out, and that the vampires will likely do the same to him—if there’s a benefit in it for them.”

“Yes.”

So we’re screwed. “The only way I can actually benefit here is if I save WEC the hassle of those negotiations, and deliver Menessos for them, thereby saving them their blood.”

Gravely, she said, “Yes, child.”

Child . “You don’t think there’s a chance that he’s important enough to them to protect?”

“He’s lord of the northeastern quarter of the United States, he’s in their major hierarchy, but he’s still replaceable. However”—Xerxadrea cleared her throat—“if they owe him favors or he has some secret information he can use to blackmail someone who could make a difference, perhaps they might rally to his aid.”

She was giving me suggestions in code.

“But such unrealistic notions, if factual, would save him and cast you to your knees begging for mercy in an Elder’s Court, and it wouldn’t be mine.”

That sounded decidedly terrible. “You’re guaranteeing me that my compliance will earn me WEC’s favor?”

“It’s the best deal you’re going to get.”

I considered all this information, the options she was displaying for me. “Xerxadrea, do you honestly think the witches could take Menessos?”

“I doubt it would be easy, child, but I’m certain they can take him. They’re prepared to have you Bindspoken to do it.”

The protrepticus went to static, and when I checked the little screen, it was blank. The dread shading my view of the situation darkened even more. Fear tingled on my spine. I wondered how the Bindspoken ritual was performed, how many witches it took to achieve it. Does it hurt?

I returned to chopping up vegetables, and the weight of the knife in my grasp felt reassuring. Still, I jumped when the door flew open.

Johnny came in. He shut the door, scanned the room as if he hadn’t seen me, and called out, “Lucy, I’m home,” doing a surprisingly good impression of Desi Arnaz.

I really wanted to play along and not think about WEC’s threat but I hadn’t a clue what Lucy would reply to keep it going.

He came to the kitchen area. “Whatcha doin’?”

“Well, I’ve been told that the Erus Veneficus has a duty to be pampered and apparently being pampered does not include cooking, but you know me.”

“You’re a rule breaker?” He feigned shock. “What happened to ‘the right thing for the right reason’ bit?”

Making big, innocent eyes at him, I said, “Helping myself is the right thing when the reason is my own hunger and that of my hardworking man’s.”

“Ooooo.” He planted a kiss on my cheek, slipped behind me, and copied the gesture on the other side. Suddenly the knife was in his grip, not mine, and he was chopping the veggies more skillfully than I could. “Tuck your fingers just under like this,” he said, showing me his technique, “and keep the tip of the knife on the cutting board at all times. You have more control that way. You try.”

He set the knife down, and as I picked it up again, his hands went to my waist. I finished chopping the rest of the peppers while he kissed the unbandaged side of my neck and whispered, “Good. Now, isn’t that better?”

“Yeah.”

“So what are you making?”

“Pasta and veggies.”

“Meat?”

“Whatever you want.”

“Heh, heh, heh.” His warm touch rose up my sides, not tickling, but moving so his fingers could just stroke the underside of my bra. “How about breast? Chicken breast, that is.” And then he was gone, getting meat from the refrigerator. In minutes he had the pasta in the boiling water, and was preparing to stir-fry the meat and veggies in separate pans.

“One pan,” I said.

“You sure?”

“Yes.” A little chicken would be okay. He poured olive oil in the pan then added the sliced meat, stirring it around with a wooden spoon. “Aren’t you tired?”

“Yeah. I mean, we knew those Beholders work hard and fast, but damn.”

“Let me cook then. You supervise.”

“No, I got it.”

Since he was taking over, I went to sit at the bar side.