Linda Robertson - Fatal Circle

“And I still want what Johnny has.” Menessos fondled my breasts. He licked at my neck as a lover would, though the blood flow was fading.

My body was well satisfied, but even so, his touch was filling me with renewed yearning. I stepped backward to be out of his reach. It took more of an effort than it should have. “He doesn’t get my blood. You do.”

The vampire leaned once more against his desk. “He doesn’t want your blood!”

“But you do. You need blood to survive.”

“Ah, but I have Beholders and Offerlings to feed me. I wouldn’t starve because you denied me blood, nor will I survive only because you gave it.”

But you do need mine because I’m your master. I didn’t want to flaunt that tidbit unless he pushed. “You’re comparing sex to blood?”

“Both feed certain hungers.”

“Menessos. I think what you get should be more valuable to you.”

“Why? Because it doesn’t require such vigorous interaction?”

I refused to let that comment sting. “You said you weren’t sex starved. So what is this truly about?”

“Johnny gets more than sex.”

Aha. The sorrow in his voice beckoned my pity. I couldn’t deny it, but I could fight it with reason. I went forward and put my hands on his cheeks and tried not to think about the fact that my blood was yet on his chin. Earnestly, I said, “Menessos. I am not Una.”

That statement had an effect.

I felt the stirring within him cease and he stilled to his core. He sidestepped away from me and strolled to the suit of armor. His back remained to me. “You said you wanted to know about the bond between the two of you, of the imprint. I thought you would figure it out for yourself with my nudge.”

“So you admit you did something.”

“Through the hex, I used your passion like a ritual.”

“You can’t mark him through me.” Could he?

“No.” He took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped at the blood on his mouth and chin.

“You can’t make me hex someone else.” I wiped blood from my cheek with an unseen part inside the robe’s sleeve.

“No.”

“Then what ritual?”

“It is a link, but without a master. As if the two of you have bonded on equal terms.” He crumpled the hanky and shoved it into his pocket. “As mates.”

“Like a m-marriage?” I stammered.

“You sound bewildered by that notion. You love him, don’t you?”

My mouth was open. I clamped it shut.

Over his shoulder, he said, “You’re not an intemperate woman, Persephone. There are emotions between the two of you, or you would not have imprinted in the first place.”

All my warning flags were snapping in storm-brewing winds. “Basic rule of magic: you don’t perform magic for another unless they have asked you to. It’s wrong.”

Menessos chuckled softly. “That is your religion talking.”

I needed to get myself and this conversation back on track, but he’d opened another door and, while he’d likely done it on purpose, I couldn’t resist peeking through. “Are you suggesting my religion is not yours, as well, vampire-wizard? At the Eximium, I saw Hecate reach for you. I heard her tell you to be forgiven. What was that all about?”

Menessos twisted around. “What did you say?” Rushing back to me, he didn’t wait for an answer. “Say that again.”

I backed up, bumping into the desk. Menessos gripped my arms. “What did you say?” he demanded.

Obviously, I had information he badly wanted. This was an opportunity to make that work for me. “Answer all my questions completely, and I’ll answer yours in kind.” As an afterthought, I added, “How forthcoming you are will directly dictate how forthcoming I will be.”

“No energy threats, just questions and answers?”

“If these are rules both sides will keep, then certainly.”

“Agreed.” He pressed his body to mine, nuzzled my ear, and licked again at the blood drying around the wound he’d reopened. “Ask away.”

My body’s yearning renewed. I struggled to form my lucid question.

“And no manipulative foreplay.”

“As you wish.” The vampire returned to his desk and seated himself behind it.

He gave in too easily. Or, perhaps not. Mentioning I wasn’t his ancient inamorata seemed to have—at least temporarily—dampened his passion. I’d take what I could get. I sank into one of the guest chairs. “What ritual did you work over us without our permission?”

“As I said, you are more fully bonded.”

“For what purpose?”

“I thought the two of you would come to understand on your own, by sharing a more fulfilling union. I told you bliss doesn’t have to be—”

“Hard to find. I remember. And?”

“You will share a mental connection, knowing each other’s moods more readily, empathically. If there is an emotion strong enough, like fear, it may call to the other—a benefit that, as your other role becomes clearer and more advanced, you may find as worthwhile as the more physical one.”

If he meant being the Lustrata was dangerous, that wasn’t a surprise. I crossed my arms and my legs. “And what’s the bonus in this for you?”

“Bonus?”

“You told me earlier that ‘if there is an advantage for me, I will command you to action’ and apparently you were commanding. All your altruistic claims aside, he’s a waere and what you dared was very dangerous.”

“With all that you are to me, for you to be bound to all that he is to become, I benefit. And with what he is to become, wizardry isn’t as much of a threat.” Menessos projected nothing but sincerity. “You must be safe, Persephone. I have acted only to increase his ability to provide protection. Think of it as a gift.”

He had an angle that, while I didn’t approve, I understood. “Speaking of protection.” My crossed arms fell. “I spoke with Xerxadrea. Are you possibly willing to share your secret with the vampire—what are they now?—lords or executives?”

“They are presently preferring the term ‘executives,’ but in my company you may use whatever term you like. And no, I am not willing to share.”

“Even if it would mean they came to your aid?”

“If they were to come to my aid, then too much would change, and nothing would change at all.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means perceptions would change, people would think the situation different than now, but it would not be.” He shook his head and stared off at one of the museum cases. “The world would have a target to blame, and an immortal sage to be hounded by museums and historians, begged for explanations of the eons. And I wish to be neither of those.”

“Enough to risk dying?”

With a steady stare, he said, “Yes.”

I couldn’t breathe; tension squeezed me like a vise. I stood. “Don’t put it all on my shoulders to save you. You have to do something, too!”

He also stood. “I am not putting it all on you. Believe me, I am being proactive about this.” When I didn’t respond, he asked, “Has WEC tried negotiating yet?”

“Yes. The fairies will not negotiate.”

He began pacing behind his desk. “Is there a time frame?”

“Headlands Dunes on Lake Erie at dawn this coming Sunday.”

He nodded.

“As Xerxadrea said, the council wants me to deliver you. Barring that, they’re giving consideration to asking the Vampire Executive International Network for approval to take you, a debt they’ll repay with their blood.”

“If you deliver me, what are they offering?”

“They recognize me as Lustrata.”

He stopped and considered it. “Not a small offer, WEC endorsement. But they still cannot force witches individually to believe it, or to like it. Depending on the influence of the higher-ups, and their take on what you represent, they could either undermine you with propaganda, or build you up with it. They could use the threat of repercussions to lessen opposition to you, or the punishments they dole out could be inconsequential.” He stroked his beard thoughtfully. “That offer could be good or bad. What’s the threat if you don’t?”