Shattered Circle

ears. All color in the room drained until only Menessos remained vivid.

He felt the need to move from behind the desk, and his feet carried him around it.

He felt the need to approach Menessos, and his feet carried him across the room.

He felt the need to kneel before his Maker, his Master, and his knees bent.

Like a bursting soap bubble, everything returned to normal. Goliath scrambled onto his feet again and glowered down at the other vampire.

“You know what obeisance can be forced upon one who wears the marks of another,” Menessos snapped.

“This is why you run to her?” Goliath had studied the policies of the witches. Forcing someone to do something against their will was a direct violation of their major tenets. The idea of dragging her to the Excelsior was gaining his favor.

Gravely, Menessos said, “I swear to you: she has never used such power on me, though she could have. I go to her because it is necessary. My path and hers are weaving together in this matter and there is much more at stake here than you yet know.”

“Enlighten me.”

“I cannot, my friend. Not yet. I must get to a ley line before it is too late.”

“Why?” Goliath demanded.

Exasperated, Menessos said, “I had hoped to not reveal this to you, but Beverley is missing.”

Goliath felt his resolve disappear. If Lorrie’s child was in danger, he couldn’t stand in the way of Menessos helping. He nodded once to indicate he would not interfere.

“Don’t let Ailo or Talto give you any trouble while I am out,” Menessos said as he turned to leave.

When his Maker reached the door Goliath called, “Menessos.”

The elder vampire turned back.

Goliath hesitated. What he wanted to say, what he wanted to ask for, was very nearly unheard of. But the situation was growing dangerous. He had to have it. He firmed his resolve. “I have asked you for very little since you Made me.”

“What do you desire, Goliath?”

Chin level, shoulders square, and voice flowing with confidence he said, “Our bond must be broken.”

Menessos regarded him for a heartbeat. One corner of his lips twisted up. “Yes. Indeed, the time has come. You have earned it. I will give you that freedom.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Regardless of Gregor’s protest, Johnny Newman made certain he was the last one into the back of the big Escalade. He slammed the door before the driver could do his job.

“Grays Armory?” he snarled.

“Yes. As I said, according to our reports, it is the best choice for the needs of this pack.” Plympton had left his dark glasses off and he faced Johnny squarely, giving him a good view of the silvered eye.

Since w?rewolves could heal afflictions and diseases that occurred before they were infected with the w?re virus, Johnny wondered why the man’s injury hadn’t healed in his monthly transformations. But then, Ig had suffered from strokes in the months before his death; while the transformation and reversion to human form initially healed him, the strokes recurred earlier and earlier each cycle. Apparently for some there were factors that didn’t hold true to the norm.

Johnny decided he didn’t want to know the nature of Plympton’s wound. “Whose reports?” He had questions about what Plympton had done back there, how he had made Johnny’s beast yelp and retreat, but those questions were not to be asked in front of an audience. “Who did the appraisal?”

“Our kind, John. I had the Zvonul send a group out when I learned of the situation. The Armory may be over 185 years old, but the structure was meant to protect those inside. Besides, the castle-like architecture is as bold and imposing as it is beautiful. Very fitting for w?rewolves. The pack should be proud to have it.”

“And if the locals don’t like it?”

Plympton grinned. “Tough titties.”

Johnny shot a frown at Todd. They both knew Clevelanders. This would not go over well with the locals.

“The Zvonul made arrangements to get CCS in the first place,” Plympton added. “This is no different.”

“The hell it isn’t!” Johnny argued. “The Armory isn’t some run-down building that’s out of commission, used only for billboards, and so close to the Flats that no one cares if w?rewolves are in it. The Armory is downtown! It’s a Cleveland landmark, the oldest building in the city.”

“Yes,” Plympton said. “That is another part of the reason it is perfect. It has also been the host of many historic events and important social functions. Now it will host this pack.”

“But—” Todd interjected.

“No buts!” Plympton shouted, facing Todd. “The pack will cordially allow the local veterans to continue holding festivities there, some touring exhibits. Some halls will continue to be rentable for parties, weddings, proms, et cetera. It will be a great outreach opportunity.”

Somehow, the man’s bad eye seemed to continue focusing on Johnny independently of where the other eye looked. It was unsettling, but even so Johnny said, “You don’t know Clevelanders, Jacques. This is bullshit.”

With that, he sat back and pulled out his phone, which he’d switched to silent for the meeting. There were multiple missed calls from Red, and one voicemail. Aware of the excellent hearing of his companions, he decided not to listen to the message in the limo. He knew she was upset; the meeting had interfered, but it hadn’t taken that long. He texted her: Just out of meeting. @ den in 5. On my way to you then.

By the time they arrived at the den, she had not responded. That was unusual for her, and it fed his urgency to listen to her message privately. He was the first one out of the limo, not waiting for the driver to open the door for him.

Aurelia exited on his heels. “John. Wait.”

“No time. Prior commitment.” She was not going to stall him this time. He pulled his keys from his pocket and remotely unlocked the Maserati’s doors as he neared the driver’s side.

Aurelia rushed forward and threw her body against the door. “John! We have to talk.”

He stepped in close, growling low. “Don’t you ever do that again.”

“Don’t do what?” she asked. “Something drastic to get your attention?” The sass in her tone infuriated him.

“No. Don’t ever touch my car.” He forcibly moved her away from the driver’s door.

“You need to learn how to be a king, John. The Zvonul are not going to be happy with me if I don’t teach you some etiquette, and I can’t do that if you don’t give me a chance.”

“Etiquette? Sounds like you’re trying to puss-ify the Domn Lup.”

“Hardly. You are a king. Therefore, you don’t open your own doors. Not to houses, buildings, or limos. You have someone to do that for you because you are Sovereign.”

Irritated, he turned from her and reached for his car door.

“You also need to move,” she added. “I’ve heard about this farmhouse, where you’ve been rooming in the attic. That is simply unacceptable. You need to live downtown, close to the den, in an exclusive high-rise type of place with some prestige. Now, I’ve got a couple of places in mind already—”

But Johnny didn’t hear the rest. He was already squealing tires out of the parking garage and headed into the ever-darkening night.

•  •  •

“I’m going in alone,” Liyliy said. “Watch for me. I will bring my sisters out.”

She let her magical senses guide her flawlessly as she reached for the rear door handle of the unmarked white van that had brought her and Giovanni to Cleveland. They had agreed that chartering a private flight would not go unreported to those at the local haven, while a vehicle could travel between states anonymously, and could arrive perfectly timed to make the best use of the night.

“Wait,” Giovanni said. “Take these.” He handed her three small objects.