Fatal Circle

Her robes smoked like the mist that sometimes surrounded her when she had to climb stairs. But it lacked the guided quality it usually had.

I rushed to her side. When I saw how ashen her skin had become, my steps faltered.

“Perseph . . .” she said. The din of the waterfall right behind me made it hard to hear. So did a second set of alarms going off.

“I’m here, Eldre

“Seal the gateway. Seal the fey out of this world. The fire fairy . . . she’s gone mad.”

“What can I do to help you right now?”

“Nothing.”

“Eldre

“Fairy fire,” Xerxadrea said. She gestured at her robes. “Is not like regular fire.”

The fireball was meant for me. The charm had diverted it and it had hit her.

It was not mist floating around her; her robes were smoldering. The new alarms were smoke detectors. “Xerxadrea!” No! “I’m so sorry. The charm, it—”

“The fire fairy doesn’t miss. She knew what you had and adjusted her spell.”

“But—”

“I have foreseen this, child.”

“What? You knew?” She dived in. She took it knowingly? “Then why did you come?”

Her lips were blue, but twisted into a wry smile. “Better me than you.”

My throat tightened with a lump so big I could hardly breathe. I remembered her—in my cellar—saying the reverse about me being the Lustrata: “Better you than me.”

“Problem is,” she went on, “WEC’s going to blame you.” Her eyelids fluttered shut and for a second I feared the worst, but she opened them again. “Vilna most of all. But there’s a silver lining . . .”

“Eldre

“I’d have reinstated you into my lucusi.”

“I know.” It hurt to say anything, my throat was constricted by that lump.

“I’d have kept you from being Bindspoken.”

My eyes stung, but those desperate tears didn’t fall. A cold, cold breath filled my lungs and seemed to ease the lump a bit. “I’ll stay ahead of them.” I squeezed her hand reassuringly. “We’re working on that already.”

“They can’t catch you. You’re too crafty.” She smiled, weakly. “Even now, I see your mantle . . . glowing soft around you like a nimbus. Don’t forget the silver lining.” She took a deep breath; her last. “Was my honor to know you both.”

“Oh, Xerx,” Menessos whispered.

“I’m crossing that bridge, Persephone. Hold my hand while this world fades.”

I am holding her hand. Can’t she feel it?

“Go, Xerxadrea,” Menessos whispered. “Linger here no more. Summerland’s gates are just across that bridge.” He sounded strong, not sad.

I took strength from his words, too. The lump in my throat faded and I found my voice. “The Lord and Lady are waiting, Xerxadrea. Into those bountiful arms, with you.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Xerxadrea was gone.

She sacrificed herself for me.

I hadn’t known her for long, and though I genuinely liked her, we hadn’t grown very close. Yet all I knew was grief, the tightness in my chest and the profuse flooding of tears. I could think no thoughts. It hurt but letting the emotion out felt right, the release of it felt good. Then came the heat of Menessos’s touch on my arm.

“Come.” He pulled me to my feet. “We must go.”

“Can’t leave her.” She died to save me.

“We ca

I shook my head. “No.” It was cruel to leave her—

“Will the broom allow me to ride it, Persephone?” Goliath asked.

His tone and direct calling of my name snapped me back into myself, and into the realization that we weren’t out of danger yet. What remained of my grief was displaced. “I don’t know,” I said, wiping my face. “What are you thinking?”

“If it will hold me, I can wear the Eldre

I gave it to him. He positioned it, then gingerly lowered his weight onto it. It did not rise, and wouldn’t hold him. He held it out to return it to me. “What do you want me to do, Master?”

“Wait,” I said.

I put my hand beside Goliath’s as he held the broom. “Awaken ye to life, and fly Goliath as he bids this night.” The broom tingled in my grip and the bristle end skittered toward his feet. “Take my cape,” I added, removing it from my shoulders, tugging it free from the velvet sling bag Xerxadrea had given me. “They’ll know they hit her, and the red one may mean more.”

I put it on him, hood up, and spied the opening above. I had an idea. “If I give you the Eldre

“Why?”

“So the butterflies and birds don’t escape.”

“A waste of time,” he declared.

Menessos added, “This garden can import more birds and butterflies. I ca

“You’re right.” It was true; I conceded.

“Goliath, go up to the second level, stay hidden, and leave only once the police arrive, but before they see you. This will give us time to get into position. Hopefully, you’ll draw most of the fairies away, but I doubt all of them will follow.”

“Yes, Master.”

“Goliath,” I added, “that thing flies on intentions, so intend to go fast.”

He actually gri

Menessos and I left the rain forest section of the gardens, passing through the mirrored exit where people made sure no butterflies had landed on them and were in danger of riding out. We did not stop to check.

“What’s your plan?” I insisted.

“We have to get back downtown, where there are no trees to shelter the fairies from the effects of their allergies.”

If the blisters on Aquula had been any indication, their allergies to asphalt were immediately intense. They must have come straight down from the sky into the gardens and the abundance of vegetation there shielded them. Bad thing was, there were trees all over this area. “On foot?”

“No. We’re going to steal a vehicle.”

“There are no vehicles around except those of the response teams.”

“Precisely.”

“You mean we’re stealing a police cruiser?”

“We ca

“If we could make it down the street a ways—”

Menessos dragged me into the men’s restroom and around the privacy wall. It was pitch-dark except for emergency lighting filtering through the vented bottom of the door. “We ca

“That could be a fire truck!”

He shrugged and put a finger to his lips, moving me into the stall. “Stand on the toilet,” he whispered.

My vision had adjusted to the dimness and I complied, sort of. I placed one of the platform boots on the side of the toilet seat. “What are you going to do?” I whispered back.

Menessos shut the stall door. I reached out and reopened it.

“What will you do?” I demanded.

“Whatever is necessary to get us out safely.”

“Menessos. You don’t have to kill an officer.”

He arched a brow poignantly. “Did I say I needed to kill?”

The bathroom door opened and Menessos quickly joined me in the stall. Gripping the upper edge of the partitioning, I hauled myself up, standing on one side of the toilet, and allowed him to do the same on the other side. Squatting down to keep my head out of sight, fighting to keep my balance on the tapered seat—damned boots—and doing it all silently wasn’t easy.

On the plus side, the officer had a flashlight, and the glow of it made it easier for us to see each other.

The stall door opened, and in an instant Menessos had ripped it back and pi