Fatal Circle

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Ig was dead.

Joh

He was still, cheek on the floor, eyes shut, blood-smeared face stuck in a grimace.

With my head downcast to keep the image of the throatless body on the bed from making its way to my nightmares, I left Hector and went to crouch with one knee down beside him. “Joh

At my touch, he stirred. His eyes caught the edge of my skirt; from his angle he could see the dancer undies. It changed the grimace entirely.

“Joh

He sat up as if his body weighed more than the world itself. I started to help him, then stopped myself. He’d just revealed to Hector and Todd who and what he truly was. Seven had taught me that, especially with these other-than-humans, appearances conveyed valuable messages of strength and respect and status.

I stood and backed away as Joh

It was a rite of ascension, it was a mercy killing, and it was murder. Yet, it was not unjust. I felt no urge to take action and right this, for this had not been wrong.

Todd pushed off from the wall. He went forward and stopped beside Ig and in front of Joh

When Todd reached into the gore on the bed and removed the wolf ’s-head necklace from Ig’s body, though, tension filled the room in an instant. Todd was taking the symbol of leadership of the pack.

He made no immediate move to put it on, however. He just studied the bloodied herringbone chain and rubbed his thumbs over the Y-shaped centerpiece. His bruised eye was swelling.

I expected a swing, a kick, a punch, harsh words, anything. Anything but Todd dipping his fingers into Ig’s open throat.

I choked on my held breath, unable to form words.

With fingers coated in syrupy fluid—and wearing the deep frown of a man resolved to an unhappy fate—Todd reached out and drew a long Y on Joh

It reminded me of the ankh Menessos had drawn on my sternum with his blood when he’d marked me. That seemed like so long ago . . . much more than a month.

Lowering himself on bended knee, Todd offered the necklace up to Joh

Joh

He’d just claimed his mantle. For all the symbolism, for all the promise it held for us, it had cost him. And I already understood the price that must be paid more than I wanted to.

“I’ll call the pack.” Hector left us.

Don Henley’s voice erupted from my bag with the chorus of “Witchy Woman.” The protrepticus.

“Yes?”

“Xerxadrea is leaving for the Botanical Gardens now,” Samson said.

“Thanks.” I lowered the phone, biting my lip. I needed to be on my way, but I didn’t have a ride. Joh

“I . . .” He didn’t finish. He wanted to come with me, but he needed to stay here. We both knew it.

I nodded. “I know. We’ll figure out how to manage without you.”

“Can you do that again?” Todd asked. “The change?”

Joh

“They’ll need to see it.”

Once his tattoos were unlocked, as Beau said, he’d be able to transform without such effort. That he could defy the magic and do it at all meant that the ink spell was weakening. Or that Joh

On the phone, Samson cleared his throat loudly. I put it back to my ear. “Yes?”

“The Lustrata doesn’t take cabs, honey. Especially not dressed like Superhooker. Your broom is leaning on the bad boy’s motorcycle.”

I’d left it at the haven. “How—”

Sam rolled his eyes, literally, around in his head. “Do you really need to ask that, witch?”

Riding the broom, I discovered another problem with the boots. The high wedge heels made it impossible to sit a broom properly with my feet tucked under my bottom. Menessos and I are going to have a long talk about shoes before he has the chance to send me any others with the expectation that I’m going to wear them.

Flying over the gardens, I sca

Damn it, Goliath’s here.

Menessos sprang over the Botanical Garden’s fence and landed beside a white oak. The fence wasn’t incredibly high, but I was impressed that such fine suits could endure that kind of activity without damage.

Goliath passed what had to be Aquula’s wrapped body to him, then vaulted into the gardens himself before taking the bundle back.

I considered waiting until Xerxadrea showed, but my conscience reminded me that I was the Lustrata. Being a coward around Goliath wouldn’t cut it. So I intentioned myself under the branches—brooms steer on intentions—and landed on the pathway behind them. Maybe giving him the higher ground would show my lack of hard feelings.

Menessos came forward. Goliath, holding the little body as if it were a swaddled infant, wore indifference like a mask. Though I put him on his knees, he’s likely assuming I’m foolish to give him any advantage.

“The rose garden,” Menessos said. “She would like that.”

I’d been to the gardens a few times, and having just done a flyover, I led the way. After a few steps I realized this was silly. The vampires could find their way in the darker garden interior better than I could, and with me having to contend with the impractical boots, I just slowed our progress. I followed inset stone stairs that, as the pathway steepened, gave way to railroad timbers. At the bottom, going around a spindly fir tree, we passed a hedged container bed and arrived at a concrete path with rounded steps and two stone masonry columns supporting wrought-iron gates.

In the summer, hostas lined this pathway with their broad and lush leaves, but the gardeners had evidently been preparing the beds for winter. In the dark, the empty patches were ominous in this solemn place, too quiet without crickets.

We emerged at a clearing with a tall red oak. I spotted Xerxadrea flying over. We hurried down the stone path and stopped at the edge of the rose garden. The roses, trained over the arches in the summertime, had also been trimmed back for the winter. The main bed held sad remnants of red and orange mums, and the water feature was drained and dry.