“I had to gift her.”
Goliath’s eyes widened and he rushed forward. He needed no explanation to understand what his Maker had done, but still he repeated the words, “
He stood at the bedside looking down at her small form. Even with her visage relaxed and peaceful in sleep, her brows rested a fraction low and the ends of her lips were turned slightly downward as if there was pain in her body, or a bad dream was playing out before her closed eyes. Her cherubic innocence was missing.
Menessos said, “I had to fill her with power. It was the only way to separate her body from the ley line and bring her out. Gifting her was the only way to keep her from dying after the dividing.”
Only Menessos could have achieved it.
Only Menessos would have dared undertake it.
Goliath was grateful that his Master was powerful and skilled, and willing to risk his own safety. He was thankful the girl was alive and safe.
But.
Beverley would have to live with the consequences of being gifted.
Goliath touched her feet. Her toes were cold. Rather than disturb her to pull the bedding down, he told Risque to fetch the throw blanket from the couch. When she handed it to him, he covered the girl up, remembering how she’d often fallen asleep on the couch when he was visiting her mother. He’d covered her up many times.
“What gift did she receive?”
Menessos hesitated. “She had already shown promise. Persephone and I missed the power signature, unaware that the girl had fey blood. But she must have. That is the only rationalization for how she could have gotten into the ley in the first place.”
Goliath considered this news, but knew his Maker was trying to steer the topic elsewhere. “What gift?” he pressed as he tucked the blanket around her feet.
Menessos lingered over the question.
Goliath faced his Maker, rage darkening his own eyes and resonating in every fiber of his being. “Tell me.” His whisper was a heated demand.
Menessos looked up slowly and met Goliath’s angry gaze with a mixture of sorrow and grave intensity. “She has become a ward-breaker.”
Goliath stared at him, straightened up abruptly, then turned on his heel, and stared into the flames Seven had built.
Lorrie’s child was a danger to them all.
Here, there were barriers meant to keep w?rewolves away from havens; it was nothing more than a simple spill of magical energy that gave w?res a sense of foreboding, but it warned them that magic may be in use in the area and kept them out. It was as much for the w?res’ own safety as it was for the vampires’ security. Those barriers could be nullified simply by Beverley’s will. Once she was trained, that is.
He could not suggest that she be left untrained.
Until she learned to control the gift, her presence and unconscious intentions could impact the magical seals. Moreover, having established contact to so much power, if she lost control it would all rush forth, consuming her and everything around her. It would tear the May Company building apart, haven and all. She might even lay waste to the whole of Public Square.
She had to learn to control what she had become.
But after she’d been taught to contain and command her abilities, she would be sought after. Vampires, witches, sorcerers, w?res—even nefarious humans—would see in her an object to use, a tool to open everything from bicycle locks to bank vaults . . . and more.
He glanced at Seven. He could tell by her expression she understood what danger they were all in with the child here. He turned to Risque, who had donned the tank top. She fussed with the fit of the tight fabric.
It was obviously Menessos’s plan that the half-demon stay with the girl for the day.
Goliath was not certain he approved, but he had no alternative. If she was going to stay, she wasn’t going to be half-naked while taking care of the child. “Pants, too.” His tone did not invite argument.
She clenched her teeth but turned back to the closet.
She did not seem to comprehend how hazardous the situation was with the child there. “You haven’t briefed her?” Goliath asked Menessos.
“Not yet.”
Goliath nodded toward the half-demon. “Make her understand.”
“Risque, Beverley must stay in the suite,” Menessos began calmly. “She will need to eat—see that she gets whatever she wants, but not to the point that she makes herself ill. You must keep her happy and entertained. If you play a game, let her win—but not obviously so. Her mood must remain cheerful. It is the best way to avoid incidents.”
Risque turned from the closet with a pair of flannel sleep pants in hand. She cocked her head. “What exactly would constitute an ‘incident’?”
“If she gets upset, things are going to happen that will alarm her and worsen the situation. It is a cycle she must not start.”
“What things will happen?”
“You will know,” he said sternly.
“You’re going to have to train her, right?” Risque asked as she stepped into the sleep pants.
Menessos nodded. “Yes.”
“She needs to sleep all day and be ready for you come nightfall, so”—she shrugged and had to tug her shirt back down—“why don’t I dose her with something when she eats?”
“No,” Goliath snapped. “She will not be drugged.”
Risque crossed her arms. “What if there’s an incident and I have no other option?”
Goliath eased close to her and mimicked her pose. “I believe you were told it is your job to keep that from happening.” Glowering down his nose, he reminded her, “As your Haven Master, I expect you to do what you are told.”
Her eyes widened slightly. She recovered herself, set her jaw, and gave him a curt nod. “Of course. I forgot my place, Master, and spoke too freely.”
“Don’t forget again.”
She bowed her head.
Goliath walked away. At the door to the suite he turned back. “Menessos . . . you and I have to finish what we discussed earlier.” He did not want to say “You promised to break our bonds” in front of the others. Also, he was not satisfied that Menessos had made Risque understand the scope of the situation, but he did not want to correct the former Haven Master in front of those he used to rule. It seemed distasteful and disrespectful, so he held his tongue—for now.
Menessos nodded. “Once everything is in order here, I will come to your suite.”
Hoping that getting things “in order here” meant Menessos was going to elaborate on the danger for Risque, Goliath shut the heavy door behind him. As he descended the steps, Silhouette walked through the doorway that led to the stage and smiled at him.
The tension in his shoulders finally diminished.
• • •
Mero hurried up the stairwell to the ground level. With Liyliy’s exit, all had returned to normal here, with guards posted on duty. He approached the ranking guard. “I require a car.”
Once supplied with a vehicle, he drove, and he worried. So much so that he was speeding. As a general rule, he was not averse to taking his chances at being ticketed if the situation warranted the risk.
This situation doubtlessly did.
Persephone Alcmedi must not be slain.
Although the Excelsior had once given him orders to eliminate her if she was not the Lustrata, he had come to believe that she was in fact the destined witch. That being the case, his orders were to bring her to the Excelsior. He knew what would become of her then.
The Excelsior would give her his marks. He would make her his servant, securing her loyalty through the bond
