Linda Robertson - Fatal Circle

They were all worried now. If Johnny said, “Jump,” they were supposed to ask, “How high?” and immediately comply.

The gathered waerewolves fidgeted uncomfortably in their seats or made other restless moves. Cammi remained standing. She tossed her head and crossed her arms, deepening her cleavage.

“Tomorrow at dawn,” Johnny said, “the fairies are coming to dole out their vengeance upon a vampire. The vampires cannot defend their own in the sunlight. We have been asked to stand in and fight for them.”

The interjections that came were, “Fight for vampires? Are you out of your mind?” and, “Let his Beholders defend him!” and, “You can’t ask us to fight for vampires.”

“I have not,” Johnny interjected there, “asked you to do anything but gather here and listen.” That shut them up. “The Beholders will be there, but our future also teeters on this one sunrise.”

“ Our future?” Cammi asked.

“The fairies gave the witches an ultimatum: deliver the vampire or face war.”

Cammi sneered. “Let the witches fight!”

“I am,” I said.

“Right.” She moved into the aisle. “They’re sending just one little witch?” Something about church aisles made people move as if decorum were required, or so I thought. Cammi managed to stomp down the aisle in four-inch heels. “Their commitment seems lacking.”

My chin leveled. “I am the Lustrata.”

Cammi stopped, even with the first pew.

I wouldn’t risk touting the aid of witches who weren’t likely to show up. I just hoped none of the waeres knew the witches were divided on the subject of supporting me. “Will you be there?” I asked Cammi.

She didn’t answer, but she clearly didn’t want to have to rise to that challenge. She might get dirty. Scuff her shoes. Break a nail.

“If this war happens,” Johnny went on, “it will spill into the life of every creature on this planet. The mundane humans have been waiting for an excuse to demand the extermination of the rest of us. This could easily be that excuse.” His voice changed then, passion filled his words as when he sang. The heartfelt rawness of his plea shone through. “If you fight, you fight for the world. Many of you have children. They will still inherit this world from you. What world will you give them? The one in which you’re an embarrassment that was eradicated? Or the one in which you stood up and declared your bravery and fairness as you chose to fight for all people?” He searched the room as he spoke, acknowledging his pack members individually.

Cammi shifted her weight and tossed her head. “Out with it already! Are you ordering us do this, Domn Lup? To risk our lives in protection of a single vamp while the rest of the undead remain safe in their haven and WEC sends a single witch to represent their interests?”

Here it was, the moment when the responsibility of leadership became the Hand of Fate that slapped him in the face. The first hard question of his rule had been asked. This was what he didn’t want: his decision risking people’s lives.

Would he cower, bruised by Fate’s inescapable hand?

Would he fight back?

His answer would characterize the kind of leader he would be. The pews were silent as if the waeres present collectively held their breath.

Into the fallen hush, Johnny stood unmoving. Solid.

As he considered, he conveyed calmness to his pack. He demonstrated he did not make snap decisions. He established he was not an insensitive autocrat. Their lives mattered, and he would not recklessly risk them. He showed me that he was willing to lead, that he could bear this mighty authority and its cost, that he could be accountable, and be in command of the situation.

Goddess, I love him.

He filled his lungs, ready to answer. “I am not going to command you do this,” he said. “I have told you what is at hand and I have presented my solution. I know there’s been no time to prove I deserve your trust. But you know what I can do. You know what I am. You know what my course of action will be. And I’m giving you the choice. Either you volunteer and stand at my side, or you don’t.”

He was using my words. I was flattered he thought them worthy. He nodded to me, a signal.

I faced the crowd again. “There will be a reward for anyone who takes this risk.” It was time to tell them all. Some already knew, but Johnny wanted me to tell the rest here, now. “I saved the life of a friend of mine, a member of this pack. Theodora Hennessey. Erik and Celia Randolph were also there and involved. I used magic, a powerful spell provided to me by the very vampire whose life is now threatened and needs your aid. Because of this spell, Theo’s life was saved. And now, she, Erik, and Celia all claim to retain their human minds while in wolf form. They have spoken of this to Todd. I promise, when this is over, I will repeat that ritual and give all volunteers who wish it that same gift.”

“Todd, I charge you with sharing the details,” Johnny said, “but only with those who take oath not only to be there and assist, but to keep secret those details.” He came down a step to stand beside me. “You all have a decision to make. Do you choose to be spectators, and let the fate of the world happen as it will, or do you choose to shape the future with your own hands?” He took my hand, put it on his arm to lead me out as an equal. He brushed past Cammi and hit her shoulder with his for emphasis.

We arrived at the theater and were met by Mountain. “Boss says for you two to come to his chambers.” He escorted us.

The big door thudded shut, sealing us in a room spared from utter darkness only by a single red pillar candle on the otherwise bare altar. Calla lily incense permeated the air. It was the scent of mourning. In the meager light, the stacked stone walls were believably subterranean, threatening and imprisoning. The two white marble pillars glowed like rigid ghosts, and the door between could have been the black chasm to Hell.

On the far side of the room, I spotted Menessos in one of the high-backed leather chairs. He could have easily blended into the night the room had become. He was clothed in black, and I could discern no details save the stern set of his downcast gaze and his hand curled thoughtfully at his chin.

“Goliath questioned the performer,” he said softly.

“And?” I went to him. Johnny followed.

Menessos waited until we were seated on the half-circle bench beside him, but he did not look up. “He confessed to attempted murder.”

Johnny sat forward, creaking the leather. “Which of you was his mark?”

“I was.”

Relieved, and yet not, I asked, “Where is the performer now?”

“By law, I have the authority to detain him twenty-four hours for questioning, but if local law enforcement intervenes they have the right to remove him into their custody—which they always do if the prisoner is human. This one was no exception. We gave him over before dawn.”

“Who sent him?” I asked. “Or was he self-appointed to the task?”

He put off voicing that answer as long as he could. “Heldridge sent him.”

I was too stunned to comment, but my memory of how Menessos had subdued Heldridge at the Eximium remained fresh.

“Evidently he was opposed to my headquartering my court in his established area. He should have been honored to host my sector authority here. Quarter-lords always improve the local economy. Chicago’s lord begged me not to leave . . .”

He was rambling, and his voice was distant. It gave me the impression that he was holding this conversation while his thoughts were truly far, far away. “What else?”

“Hmmm?”