Shattered Circle

deer; it had been tossed off the windshield as the car spun. He hurried onward, scenting the air, searching for the tang of human blood. All he picked up was damp foliage, metal, and motor oil.

Luckily the car had come to rest right side up, but it was crushed and crumpled. Even as he neared, the motor sputtered and died. His last few steps stalled.

What if she’s dead?

What if she isn’t?

She lay very still inside, her head drooped forward. He could not tell if she was breathing.

His fingers tried to curl around the door handle. It had compressed almost flat from the impact. He hurried to the other side. Smashed, but not as much.

Concentrating, he stretched his index finger into a thin claw. This fit under the handle. He lifted and pulled. The door didn’t want to open. Using both hands on the now-raised handle, he yanked with all his might.

When finally the metal screeched and the door scraped open, the dome light flickered on. The scent of blood was suddenly strong. Instantly his beast roared within him and his mouth began to water.

No.

“Aurelia.” He sank into the passenger seat. He looked her over and she seemed to be in one piece, nothing obviously broken. Her purse had fallen to cover her feet. Tentatively he touched her arm. “Aurelia.”

Nothing. He knew better than to move her, but he reached up and pushed her hair from her face. Her nose was bloodied. More of the red fluid trickled down the left side of her neck and he could not tell if it was from her scalp or her ear. He touched her cheek, letting the heel of his hand rest under her nose lightly. He could feel the warmth of a shallow breath on his skin.

She was alive. For now.

Implications bounced around his mind. She was alive, but if injured as badly as she apparently was, would she be able to check in and keep the information about Evan from leaking out? He wondered how much time he had to reveal this news the way he wanted to.

He jerked his phone from his pocket, opened it, and searched through the numbers for Doc Lincoln, the veterinarian who treated w?res. Before he could queue it up, Aurelia moaned. The sound grew into a cry of agony as she tried to lift her head.

“Aurelia, don’t move. Stay very still. I’m calling for help.”

“For help? You . . . you . . . bastard.” Her voice grew louder with each new word.

“What?”

Her head had shaken with her earlier effort but now she was still. “Look what you’ve done!”

“Stay calm. Help will be coming.” I can’t call 911. If they recognized me they’d know immediately she’s w?re. They’d let her die.

He pushed the button for Doc Lincoln’s private number.

“Calm? Calm! You want me to be calm?”

“Yes.”

“You’re calling for help. I don’t trust you or your help.”

The phone began ringing. “You’re delirious.”

“You wish. Why don’t you just kill me now and be done with it.”

“I’m not calling for help as a ruse, Aurelia. He’s a real . . . doctor.” Of sorts.

She growled. “Spare me the games. No one would suspect a broken neck wasn’t part of the crash, John. You better do it before they get here.”

Doc Lincoln’s message system picked up. At this hour, he wasn’t surprised. “Doc, it’s John Newman. There’s been an accident.” He left the details as to where. “Please come ASAP.” He shut his phone. “Aurelia, he can help you.”

“Riiiight.” She tried to laugh but it turned into a strangled cough and blood sprayed from her mouth.

The smell was richer than usual, and there was unusual warmth to it. His beast rolled its shoulders and wallowed in that scent. He guessed it was arterial blood. He squeezed the phone in his hand. C’mon, Doc.

It bothered him that she didn’t even try to wipe the blood from her face, but he had told her not to move.

When she’d recovered from the small fit, she said, “I promise you. I will make your life miserable.”

“Aurelia.”

“Even from behind bars, John. I know everyone,” she snarled. “They all owe me favors.”

Her threats were irritating but he kept his voice even. “Seriously, you need to stay calm and keep your heart rate down.”

“Every day, you’ll wonder who around you is spying for me.”

The words stung because they were true. “This isn’t helping you.”

“Every night, you’ll wonder who I’ve asked to assassinate you.”

“Stop it!”

“Every fucking moment, you’ll wonder what I’m plotting.”

“Stop!”

“You’ll wonder if it’s you who’s gonna die or your precious witch.”

He ground his teeth.

“And every goddamned waking minute, you will worry about your son’s safety. Little accidents at first. Not life threatening but painful. Soooo painful. A broken arm here. A leg there. And then . . . ” She laughed a throaty and malicious little laugh. “I can promise you . . . he won’t be safe anywhere.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Within the Haven Master’s suite, Goliath was still pondering Mero’s reaction when he heard a clamoring on the steps outside and rose from his seat to investigate.

“Has the witch returned?” he asked the guard.

“No. Seven and Risque were escorting Menessos. He was carrying an unconscious child into the E.V.’s quarters.”

Goliath started moving when the guard said “Menessos,” but the “unconscious” part sent him up the steps three at a time. He stopped in the doorway and took in the scene before him. Menessos was laying Beverley on the bed in the back of the room while Risque looked through the closet. She was pushing hangers to the side, saying, “No, no, no . . . God, who bought her these awful clothes?”

Seven, who was starting a fire in the hearth, said, “Pick a shirt and put it on.”

Pouting, Risque jerked a black tank top from its hanger and shoved it over her head.

“Is she all right?” Goliath asked.

The women faced him but said nothing. Menessos had one hand on the girl’s forehead. He looked up and said, “I believe so.” He paused. “I suspect that she will sleep through the night.”

Goliath lowered his tense shoulders, but he did not feel relief. “What happened? Why did you have to get to a ley line?”

Menessos eased down to sit on the edge of the bed. “She discovered a spirit board that has been in Persephone’s family many years.”

“She used it alone? Unprotected?” Goliath stomped a few paces into the suite.

Menessos raised his hand and stopped Goliath’s advance. “No one even knew that she was aware of the item, much less that she would endeavor to remove it from the house by stealth and use it.” Menessos explained what they believed had happened.

“You mean she was in the ley?” Resourceful. She is her mother’s daughter. Goliath had heard tales of sorcerers lost to the ley. Retrieval was nothing short of miraculous the few times it had been accomplished. Like magical brain surgery, precision was everything. Goliath asked, “How did you get her out?”