Shattered Circle

without doubts. You want that, don’t you?”

Breathing hard, feeling the floor cracking under my palms, I saw fine fissures appear under my hands and spread. I fought to keep all my weight on my knees. “How can you do that?”

“How matters not, if that is what you desire of me.” His voice shook with an intensity that traveled down his arms into my shoulders, vibrating out to my palms. The cracks widened.

“How matters to me!” I shouted, trying desperately to hold the force he was exerting in my legs and back. My muscles trembled with the effort.

“What would you object to?” he growled.

“I object to being coerced by threats.”

“Indecision makes me impatient. This method brings answers. Now, what would you object to?”

“Harming others.”

“The world must balance. If I give to you, I must take from another.”

“Then, do it my way.”

He leaned down to my ear. “But your way takes from the Excelsior. It takes his home earth to make a stake such as that. It counters his free will, prohibiting him from coming near you while the stake is in your possession!”

“I need only a little dirt and the stake won’t bother him if he doesn’t seek to harm me, so I’ll accept that risk.”

He barked a single laugh. “The stake will not defend you from his human minions.”

My jaws clenched. I was the Lustrata, bearer of the mantle. I could tap a ley line and call on energies many witches would not dare to touch. “I can do quite a bit to protect myself.”

“Yes, my beauty, you are strong—thrice tested—and your potency is waxing, but you are not yet full as the moon.”

Johnny and Menessos would help me. Certain witches would. And the elementals. “I have other defenses.”

“Do you dare to underestimate who you trifle with, witch? He is the Supreme Vampire for a reason. His minions will employ others not bound by him, others who will not be held back by your weapon. They will lay waste to all the people who would stand to shield you. They will destroy the flimsy weapon you create. The blood of all those you hold dear will run thick upon the open ground, and they will throw you before the Excelsior anyway. All will have been for naught.”

I said nothing and simply tried to breathe normally to quell the fear that rose up when those I cared for most were endangered, and to evaporate the tears burning at the backs of my eyes.

“I have what you need,” he said again.

Through clenched teeth I asked, “How would you accomplish it?”

He snorted. “So stubborn!”

“I have to know! I have to think it through to decide.”

“Then think, sweet, sweet Persephone. Think long and hard. Call for me when you’ve decided how you want to proceed.” He shoved on my shoulders.

The floor shattered and I fell headfirst into darkness.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Johnny straightened. He squinted at the doc. The man’s actions were calm, tending his glasses as he always did. Did she talk him into killing her? It was a normal thing for the doc to do. For him, normal includes putting dying animals down gently.

“Her internal injuries were not survivable.”

Johnny stared with the intention of intimidation.

When the doc placed his glasses back on his nose, he saw it. “Unless someone does an autopsy, you won’t know for sure what the cause of death was precisely. My guess is massive internal bleeding from a gastrointestinal wound. She was in hypovolemic shock when I arrived, John.”

“Sire, a word?” Gregor interrupted.

Johnny nodded and Doc Lincoln walked away.

“I have programmed the address you gave me into the GPS on my phone. I’m leaving shortly.”

He listened to Gregor without looking at him. Instead his focus had remained on the veterinarian, who retrieved something from his truck and returned toward the crash site with it. Johnny had the distinct feeling it was a veterinarian’s version of a body bag.

“Sire?”

When Johnny heard that word, he realized Gregor had repeated it a few times. He tore his attention from the wreckage. “I need you to keep her death a secret for as long as possible.”

“Absolutely. May I ask why?” Gregor repeated.

“The longer this news is unknown, the safer my son is.”

Gregor nodded. “I’ve put Brian in charge. He’s made arrangements for a tow truck to come and is confirming whose land this is so that we may offer financial compensation for the damage.”

“And the body?”

“Will go into the back of one of our vehicles for transport. We will see that Ms. Romochka’s final arrangements are in keeping with her wishes.”

The phrase “final arrangements” were like knives twisting in his gut. If I hadn’t pursued her, she would still be alive. But if she hadn’t tried to kill Red, I wouldn’t have chased her.

His hands raked through his hair.

“The Omori can handle this. Perhaps you should return to Ms. Alcmedi’s house? I will tell Brian he can find you there if necessary.”

“No. I’ll stay here until—”

Gregor gripped Johnny’s arm. “It would be best if the Domn Lup were not on the scene when the others arrive.”

His ascension and subsequent press conference had made worldwide news a few days ago; his distinctive tattoos ensured that anonymity was unlikely. Without a word Johnny turned and walked to his car.

Red’s saltbox farmhouse was only a few minutes away, but those minutes passed slowly. His thoughts raced, circling around what Aurelia had told him of the key in her suitcase. He agonized over going to Red’s as Gregor had suggested, or rushing into Cleveland to ransack Aurelia’s room at the Renaissance Cleveland Hotel.

No. Aurelia had tried to kill Red. He had to check on her first.

She’d been through so much lately. Damn near all of it was his fault.

But she subdued Aurelia. He had to admit, that was impressive. Aurelia was—had been—a scheming woman who’d endured much to gain a high rank in the governing body of the w?rewolves.

He pulled into the driveway and saw a car that hadn’t been there when he left. It was an Audi like the one Zhan drove, but this one was white. The license plate was FANG 12. It was from the fleet of cars Menessos’s haven owned.

Perfect. That’s exactly what I want to deal with now. Vamps.

He got out and headed toward the front door, but then slowed his steps. The main door was open. The screen door would let the cold air in. He’d left it open when he’d entered, but surely she would have closed it by now. It was pretty cold.

He eased up onto the porch.

From there he could see down the long hall. Red was sitting Indian style on the kitchen floor and her eyes were shut. If she was back, that must mean they found the kiddo. She seemed in a trance, though. He hoped she was doing some witchy thing of calming and thanks.

Then a man stepped into view, circling her with an expression of suspicion. His arms were folded across his chest, then one hand rose thoughtfully to his lips. He had not noticed Johnny on the porch.

Recalling that Ivanka told him it had been a strange man at Red’s house who had broken her arm, he