Fatal Circle

“Hear me, mortal, I will not hurt you. You must merely comply with my orders.”

The man sighed, eyes glassy. “Yes.” His voice slurred and his jaw went slack.

“You will take us out to your car—”

“Others might see,” I interrupted. I’d been recognized a lot tonight already. And without the cape I was showing a lot of skin again.

Without breaking the visual co

“I do.” I gripped Menessos’s arm and called energy up from the jaspers and out of me, preparing to transfer it to him.

“No,” he said.

“Tell him to bring a patrol car down into the garage, and open the trunk for us there. He must drive us a mile down the road then park somewhere secluded and let us out.”

“It will drain you!”

“It will drain only the jaspers Xerxadrea gave me to wear.” The “only” part was a lie.

“Then you will be unprotected!”

“Not true.” I wagged the chain with Beau’s charm at him. “I can’t mesmerize people. You can.” Before he could protest further, I poured the energy into him.

After we exited the trunk of the police car and the officer drove away, Menessos quickly flagged down a cab. Once we climbed inside, the obvious question came. “Where to?”

“Public Square,” Menessos answered.

The cabbie asked, “You want the Holiday I

Menessos gave me the once-over and laughed out loud.

“Just take us to Public Square,” I snapped.

“Oh, yes. Trixie’s late for work,” the accented cabbie grumbled.

Though Menessos had said it was unlikely the fey would follow us in the open city, he inspected the sky through the back window. In spite of the fact that he was still chuckling, I was glad he checked and found the sky satisfyingly fairyless. He settled into the seat and took my hand.

“You and I are going to have a long talk about shoes and what I wear,” I said.

“Whatever you want, Persephone, you shall have.”

I laid my head on his shoulder. “Sensible clothes and sensible shoes.” I was glad he didn’t argue. Due to my energy dump, it felt like I’d been awake for days and had just run a marathon. Yet this night was far from over. I had to talk to Menessos and Joh

I just needed the support of Joh

Xerxadrea’s dead. Her plan is lost. We’re on our own. My insides pinched with grief, but I denied it again.

According to the cab’s clock, it was nearly midnight now. So we had a little more than thirty hours. Thirty hours to prepare and perform the soul-sharing spell, to make plans for the fairies and implement those plans. Some of those precious hours would be spent unproductively sleeping. Being well rested going into a spell like that was simply common sense. But how could I sleep now?

Because I just poured energy into Menessos.

I had something else to add to my endless to-do list: Xerxadrea had said I needed to shut the door between the worlds. I needed to find out how Menessos, Una, and Ninutra opened the door before I could close it. I couldn’t ask Menessos in the cab though. No telling who the cabbie might know.

The fairies were expecting Menessos to be delivered at dawn. The vampires would be, literally, dead to the world. Useless. And the witches were out.

We were going to need the waerewolves.

“Wait.” I sat up and leaned toward the cabbie. “Take us to The Dirty Dog instead.”

In the rearview mirror, he confirmed this new destination with Menessos, who nodded his assent.

“The Dirty Dog it is,” the cabbie replied. He changed lanes and hit the turn signal.

“Do you have my jacket?” Menessos asked as the cab rolled onto a familiar side street and slowed, then stopped. I had forgotten about Xerxadrea’s velvet sling bag, still draped over my shoulder. As I understood that I had something of hers, tears threatened to spill yet again, but I dug into the purse’s silver interior, removed his jacket, and passed it to him.

Producing a money clip from the inside of his suit coat, Menessos provided the cabbie with a hundred-dollar bill and said, “Wait wherever you want, but return to this spot in thirty minutes and I’ll give you another one of those for that ride to Public Square.”

“You got it,” the cabbie said enthusiastically.

We exited the cab. I shivered. Maybe the cold night air would firm my resolve to be tear-free. Menessos draped his jacket around my shoulders. Smiling my thanks, I stuck my arms through the sleeves.

It seemed like much more than a few hours since I’d left Joh

The bar was now open, with light trying valiantly to push beyond the grimy front windows, and the buzz of music rattled the panes. However, the bouncers at the bar door—and the scent of pine as thick as sap in the air—heralded the idea that not all patrons were welcome inside tonight.

So I wasn’t surprised when the nearer of the two—a bald waere with ebony ear gauges—raised his hand in the universal stop gesture. “Private party tonight.”

I walked right up to the Mr. Clean wa

“I’m here to see Joh

“Even dressed to kill and hot as you are, I can’t let you in,” he insisted.

“Then get Todd. I only need a moment.”

He sniffed and knew I wasn’t waere. “Droppin’ names will get you nowhere tonight.”

I was too damned tired for this shit. “I’ll go around back,” I said, and moved away.

The bouncer caught my arm. “You can’t go inside tonight.”

“She must be deaf,” the other bouncer said. While not as tall as Mr. Clean, the wiry Asian guy had arm bulges that were just as impressive. He gripped the other man’s shoulder and plastered on a fake pout. “Ain’t that sad?” His pout evolved into a smirk.

Menessos drew his foot lightly across the sidewalk, making an unsubtle scraping that drew to him the attention of both the Overactor and Mr. Clean. “This lady usually gets what she wants, boys. One of you be a sport and ask the man who signs your checks to get his ass out here, or both of you will be in danger of not getting paid ever again.”

“We won’t get fired over this,” Overactor said.

“Unlike vampires, waeres don’t collect checks after they die,” Menessos clarified.

Both bouncers growled menacingly.

“Does your master reward obedience?” Menessos lifted another hundred. “I do. Now, who’s going to go ask?”

“We don’t fetch for fang-faces,” Overactor said.

“Only pack tonight,” Mr. Clean said.

“There were five members of your pack at my party tonight,” Menessos touted back. “No exclusivity on my part.”

Mr. Clean reevaluated Menessos, perhaps just recognizing him. He crossed his arms. “This is different.”

We didn’t have time for this. “I know Ig’s dead,” I blurted. “Let me speak to Joh

Mr. Clean and the Overactor exchanged shrugs.

I stomped my boot. “Somebody go ask!”

“This isn’t an issue of permission,” Mr. Clean said. “We’re keeping you out for your own safety.”