Fatal Circle

“Hey, Beau.”

They clasped each other’s forearms in greeting. “Who’s the doll?”

“Beauregard, this is Persephone. But that’s a lot of syllables, so I call her Red.”

“Ahhh, Red’s easier on the tongue. As easy as she is on the eye.” He held his hand out to me.

I took it firmly for a good shake, but he instantly jerked away.

“Jesus!” he grumbled, shaking his appendage like it hurt. “She’s a witch!”

“Yeah.” Joh

I hadn’t jolted him.

Beau lifted his cane and poked Joh

“We’re not here for a drink, Beau,” Joh

Beau stopped. “You wa

Joh

“They call you in?”

“Nope.”

Only Beau’s eyes moved then, as they angled toward me, then sank down to his opening and closing hand. To Joh

Joh

He continued to tighten then loosen his fist. He snorted, then jutted his chin in Joh

I left, fighting the urge to hurry to catch up. Joh

Waeres. The Dirty Dog. Duh.

Atop the landing, there was a short hall and a single door.

Joh

I felt the floor shake; someone was moving beyond. Someone big.

The door opened. The person who came into view was a head taller than the door frame, and three times as broad as Joh

The big man was still and silent long enough that I had time to wonder, Is he in the WWF? and move on to, How the hell does he get out of this building? It was hard to believe that he’d fit down the stairwell.

“Joh

That surprised me two ways: his voice was soft, and very few people seemed to know Joh

“Ig taking visitors today?”

“I’ll ask.”

The man ambled across the dark, high-ceilinged room; his size made his movements seem clumsy and overdone. He slid open a pair of pocket doors and passed through. To Joh

“Ignatius Tierney,” he whispered back. “The dirija, the local waere supervisor.”

At that odd word, I remembered Joh

Destinies are destinies because they are inevitable.

Is that why we’re here?

Joh

Hector returned to view, and motioned us on. I followed Joh

Joh

“Never show up on a good day, do you?” The words were slurred and thick.

I peeked around Joh

“When?” Joh

Ig gargled saliva. I think it was supposed to be a laugh. “Two days ago.” He waited then said, “Hector.” Pronouncing the name involved massive amounts of phlegm. “Tell them.”

“There’s a clotting issue with his blood.”

Joh

Hector’s chin dropped to his chest.

“No,” Ig said.

The instant Joh

“Tell them all of it,” the dirija insisted.

“It keeps happening. He gets a TPA treatment and heals to this stage immediately. This stage, no better. And it happens earlier and earlier with each moon cycle.”

“We just had a full moon four days ago,” I said.

Ig nodded. “S’pposed to be dead.”

I’d have guessed Ig to be maybe forty-five. His face was speckled with freckles and his pale red-blond hair was just starting to thin. With lashes to match his Irish hair, his green eyes seemed big. Except for a drooping eyelid and the nonworking side of his mouth, he appeared to be a man in his prime. He patted the bed. “John, sit.”

Joh

“That’s Red.” Joh

Ig acknowledged me with a sniff of the air in my direction. That was when I saw that under his half-buttoned pajama shirt he wore a long silvery necklace, probably platinum or white gold. The thick links of herringbone chain held a large Y-shaped centerpiece, and while I didn’t clearly see it, I was certain it was a wolf’s head. “Beautiful. But not waere.”

“I’m a witch.” Get that tidbit out of the way this time. Beau’s reaction still had me puzzled.

Hector immediately eased away from me as if he were backing away from a wild animal. “Dangerous company to keep.” He outweighed me by at least two hundred pounds. He was a foot and a half taller than I. And he was backing away from me in fear. It seemed ridiculous, but it was actually the smart thing to do.

“She’s cool, Hector. A bunch of us ke

“What brings you?”

“Her.”

“Back to the woman.” Again, Ig considered me, but this time it made me feel that closing and buttoning my blazer would have been appropriate. “Why?”

“She’s going to need the help of some waeres.”

“What about those who ke

“Just my band, a few friends. Not enough.”

Ig scowled just a little at the word “band.” “Who’d she piss off? WEC?”

“There’s a lot going on, Ig. More than I can say. I came to ask if you would help . . . but you’ve already got your own concerns to deal with.”

“Must be important. You’d not have come back otherwise.” Ignatius took Joh

Joh

Discouraged, Ig’s hand fell to the sheet, and was still for an instant, then it clenched and his features distorted defiantly. “I’m going to die anyway. Todd will be dirija by default. And he won’t help you.”

I didn’t know who this Todd was, but the vibe in the room indicated that nobody here thought that was a good thing.