Linda Robertson - Fatal Circle

I shoved away and removed his fingers from the belt as I spoke. “Whatever. You share information because it is the right thing to do, or don’t. Either I die, or I’ll be miserably Bindspoken forever. If either of those things happen, I won’t have much need for a guide, now will I?” I pivoted on my heel and left.

It surprised me that he would let me leave and say nothing, but he did. The guards reacted only with sniffing—my wound was scabbing over, but it was freshly opened. Six steps down the hall, Menessos’s door opened again. “Persephone. I have had an idea, concerning the matter we were discussing, and the location of the place you need to go. Rejoin me for a moment longer, won’t you?”

I stopped and considered. The guards were watching with interest. “Of course.” There was no other viable answer that would maintain the pretense. And though I could likely find out what and where Wolfsbane and Absinthe was on my own, his simply telling me would be easier.

When the door closed again, he gestured to the guest seats before the desk. I sat in one and he took the other. “You are right.”

I waited.

“If ever our lips meet again, I want it to be because you wanted them to. Not because I influenced you.”

Sure, when it sounds like it was his idea, it’s a good thing. “I am glad we can agree on that.”

“Wolfsbane and Absinthe is in the Arcade. If you enter by the Euclid Avenue doors, it is just inside on the left. You must speak with the owner, he’ll probably be the only one there, but in case he has hired someone, insist on talking only with him. Tell him I sent you.”

“I can do that. Then what?”

“Tell him of your threat. He is the only one I know of who can instruct you in what you must do.”

The following morning, Johnny and I slept in until ten. He didn’t seem aware of my short absence and went happily about making breakfast. I silently rehearsed how to ask him if he’d been aware of the magic Menessos had inserted into our lovemaking, but he exuded such happy contentedness that I didn’t want to ruin it by pointing out the vampire had interfered.

Once we had eaten—I ate a whole slice of bacon all by myself for his entertainment—he had to go. He had to assemble a special-order guitar at the Strictly 7 warehouse, then cover the one-to-six shift at the music store where he sold guitars.

It was raining so we found and questioned Mountain who kindly sent another Beholder to play valet and fetch my car. Johnny would take the Avalon to work and, since the Arcade was close by, I’d walk.

After a soak in the tub, and a thorough inspection of all the expensive clothes Menessos had filled my closet with, I decided on jeans from my suitcase and a long-sleeved white cotton shirt with some decorative lace at the low collar. Remembering how the lake effect chilled the air here, I added a black fleece hoodie under my brown blazer.

Mountain was waiting in the green room, lying on the green futon couch I’d seen him carrying before. He sat up. “Boss said to show you out the back way, Ms. Witch.” He yawned.

“Were you sleeping?”

“Yes, but it’s all right.”

“Let me go the way I know. You get some rest.”

“Can’t do that.”

“Why?”

“They’re hanging things high in the theater, best to avoid going in there right now. Don’t need them trying to be formal with your presence and falling off ladders and such.”

“Oh. Right.”

He strolled across the backstage. “This way.” He showed me to a huge service elevator, opened the gate, and stepped in. “This is how the stage sets were brought down for touring shows.”

This theater hadn’t been used in decades. I stopped before getting onto the elevator. “How old is this elevator?”

“Boss had it all replaced, it’s dirty and beat-up because we’ve hauled so much debris out through here. Takes a toll.”

I conceded and he shut the gate. We started up. “I don’t mean to contradict the Boss, but when I asked you those questions, I wasn’t teasing you. I honestly didn’t know.” I didn’t want him to think I was mean.

“Haven rules are confusing at first.” The elevator lurched to a stop and he opened the gate. “This goes up another floor to what was the storage area of the department store, but we’ll get out here. Boss said it’d be good for you to know the back way around.” Mountain led me through hallways, then up the steps to the ticket booth. It had been cleaned and decobwebbed, too.

“I know where I’m at now.”

“I’m to escort you, Ms. Witch. For safety’s sake.”

He’d showered since his shift ended and his long ponytail was still damp. The Cleveland Browns jersey had been replaced with a wine and gold Cavaliers jersey with a long-sleeved black T-shirt under it. I felt guilty at being the cause for him to miss his rest; he was undoubtedly tired. I intended to keep this outing as short as possible. “Okay. But when we’re not on vampire turf, call me Seph. All right?”

“Deal.”

Mountain opened the door, and, thinking he was being gentlemanly, I moved to go through. He held up a hand. “I go first. To make sure it’s safe.” He checked outside, then gestured for me to come through.

Mountain was ever watchful as we made our way down the street, but strolling in silence seemed rude. “So what’s your story, Mountain?”

“Grew up a farmer’s son. Wanted to do anything but work a farm. Got in at the steel plant. Twelve years later, my father was dead, the farm was chopped into a subdivision, and the steel plant shut down. All I could get was a job flippin’ burgers. Boss offered better benefits. I donate blood and work hard. In return, I’m fed, I have a roof over my head and a bed that fits me. And like he promised, I never get bored.”

“He works you hard.”

“I’d rather have something to do than nothing to do.” He paused. “What about you? What are you giving up to be at his side? If you don’t mind sharing, that is.”

“I don’t mind at all.” I told him about my land, thinking he’d find that interesting. “I have twenty rural acres. I just live in the farmhouse and rent the acreage to farmers who’ve planted corn on it. I’m hoping that taking this role will actually assure me the chance to go back there safely.”

The sun was hidden behind the rain clouds but the precipitation had stopped falling so my hood stayed down. Still, the breeze was stealing a few extra degrees from the day. Having added the hoodie was a stroke of genius on my part. “Do you ever feel afraid around all the vampires?”

“No. They taunt all the Beholders, especially the new ones. Called me Bloodmobile at first since I’m so big. Still, what the vampires dole out is less humiliating than being the fat man working the grill. They have harassment laws, but what’s a twenty-year-old shift manager supposed to do about the customers—spoiled teenagers—spouting cruel comments at the cook?”

There was something off about the notion that taking what human teens dished out was worse than what vampires might do. “So how’d you come to be called Mountain?”

“With my mark, my strength increased. I’m almost immovable.”

I didn’t doubt that. “Do you think he’ll turn you?”

“Don’t want to be a vampire.”

I was surprised. “Most of the Beholders want to be vampires, though, don’t they?”

He didn’t answer immediately. I saw a sign that identified this as Superior Avenue. “Hey, aren’t we supposed to be on Euclid? Menessos said the place I’m going to is just inside the Euclid entrance.”

“The Superior entrance is much prettier.”

I meant to keep it short to benefit him, and here he was choosing to go the long way to benefit me. He was a big sweetie. “As long as you know where you’re going.”