Fatal Circle

“I can handle myself around waeres,” I snarled and pushed past. This time, neither made a move to stop me.

The bar was packed with people laughing, drinking, and dancing—a pair of women were dancing on this end of the bar. One of them could barely stand, and the men around them made no effort to hide the fact that they were staring up their short skirts.

Making my way toward the far end of the bar, I didn’t see Joh

Do waerewolves always mourn like this? I wondered.

“Witch!” someone shouted.

Stillness abruptly spread across the room. People backed away from me. A man nearby howled approval, but it was cut off by a woman elbowing him hard in the ribs. The jukebox had been silenced.

“Where’s Joh

“Witch, witch, witch.” It started as a whisper, but it was soon picked up by many mouths and a chant ensued. The pack crowded close, encircling me but leaving an arm’s length open all around.

They were responding with pack traits: grouping, surrounding, snarling as if to make me cower. I didn’t blame them for reacting with a show of force; a witch has the power to send them all into life-ruining partial changes simply by stirring up energies.

Lucky them, I was too tired to stir any.

Lucky me, they didn’t know that.

Trump card: they were all at least half drunk, and I’d have bet a high percentage of them were well past the halfway mark. It didn’t take much for waeres to get drunk or high or overmedicated. That meant they weren’t likely to be thinking clearly. They might do something stupid.

“You’re Joh

It was one of the women who’d been dancing on the bar. The other dancer clung to her to keep from falling off the bar. As they both faced me, I realized they were twins.

Sammi and Cammi Harding, bank heiresses. They were the ones who had pawed Joh

The one who’d spoken put her arms out and stepped off the bar. The men nearby caught her and made sure she had her feet under her. Her sister toppled down with less grace but the men helped her, as well. The first pushed her way through the crowd and gave me the once-over.

The two of them were identical physically, but they didn’t dress exactly alike and they displayed different personalities. This one was more aggressive and I pegged her as the one who had planted the lip-lock on Joh

She exuded only contempt, until she spied the boots. I recognized the covetous gaze of a window-shopper. “Bet you’re almost his height in those.”

Her sister stumbled up behind her. Her mascara was smeared at one end and she could hardly stand. “Oooo. Pretty. Bitch to walk in, aren’t they?”

“Where’s Joh

The first sister bared her teeth; it was too vicious to be a smile. “Busy.”

I’d read some puppy manuals when Nana got Ares. Maintaining eye contact was always key and using firm, low tones was important for reprimanding inappropriate behavior, so I did both. “Get him for me.”

“Eat shit.”

The bank heiress has a foul mouth? I knew better than to back down. She was trying to assert her dominance over me. “Now.”

“Or you’ll what? Spank me with a newspaper?”

A man in the crowd growled, “I’ll spank you, Cammi.”

She ignored him. So did I.

“Don’t make me rub your nose in it.” Oh, for a waere-safe charm that would make her pee herself right now. If I had known a spell for spontaneous incontinence, one that wouldn’t send her into a partial change, it would have been impossible to resist using it. Pressing her face to this grimy floor would leave no doubt of my dominance. Trouble was, if I did that, the rest of the pack would likely jump on my back and do worse to me. Tactically, I needed to posture more aggressively than she did.

A deep, deep growl erupted beside us. Cammi looked away first, as a huge black wolf leaped onto the bar and stalked down the length of it.

Joh

Cheers rose up around the bar. “Hail the Domn Lup!” People held their beverages aloft. The people crowded around me were mostly without their beer cans and shot glasses, so pumped their fists in the air. Joh

Cammi thrust herself into my personal space and said, “With all that he is, he deserves a pack bitch, a haita catea, not a sange stricata like you . . . blood whore.”

A pair of women nearby heard and gasped, then burst into laughter. They were laughing at me. As I stood in The Dirty Dog, dressed in taped-on clothes and glossy red boots, after everyone saw Menessos drinking from me broadcast on TV and online, did I have any right to be surprised?

Moving forward, pushing into Cammi’s personal space, I put myself nose to nose with her. The move brought an end to the cheers around us as ears strained to hear. I could smell the bourbon on her breath. “He chooses to spend his time with me, so you’re going to have to find another bone to chew—but remember this: ‘all that he is’ has gone u

She tried to slap me. From the bar, Joh

“Give me a reason,” I shouted. A challenge.

She jerked free of my grip and in doing so compromised her tenuous balance. She backpedaled. “Don’t threaten this pack!”

With her small retreat, the scales had just tipped in my favor. I took up the distance. “I’m not threatening the pack! I simply came to speak to Joh

She recognized the concession inherent in her move was a mistake and tried to correct it by planting her feet. But it was too late. She’d given ground and I’d taken it. “If you try a spell, witch, you’ll be dead before you can call enough energy to damage us all.”

“I don’t intend to ‘damage’ anybody, but if you don’t get out of my face, whatever the consequence, I guarantee you’ll be a half-formed bitch. You’d probably be more likable that way.”