Shattered Circle

“Who am I to interfere in your grand destiny?”

I held on to his promises as parts of my body numbed. Inside my skull, my brain grew cold. Darkness swirled at the edges of my vision. Consciousness, I knew, was leaving me.

“Hecate,” I whispered. Would I remember Her?

“Hecate cannot help you,” he whispered back. “Our deal is struck.” Hades put his lips to mine and I could not fight, could not speak, could not see.

Despair was the last thing I knew as his kiss pushed me under the surface of Lethe’s oblivion.

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

Johnny and Plympton arrived at the Akron-Canton Airport shortly before three in the morning. They followed the overhead signs marked LONG-TERM PARKING, and cruised up and down the long rows of parked cars, searching for a white Nissan Altima. Halfway down the third row, they found it. Stopping the Maserati behind it, Johnny cut his engine. He had time to peer inside the front and back seats of the car before Plympton managed to maneuver out of the “low” seat and join him.

“The interior seems empty,” he said.

Plympton patted the trunk. “Check here.”

Johnny put the key into the lock and turned it. It clicked and the lid opened slowly. They stood back as it rose by itself. A light inside flashed on.

Inside the trunk sat five plastic cases. Four were black with opaque tops and gray handles, and sized to hold folders and documents. One was red. It sat nearest the bumper and still had stickers on it indicating the price and the case’s features.

“My situation with her is newest,” Johnny said. “I bet this one is mine.” He flipped the latch and opened the top.

Beside him, Plympton pulled one of the black files closer to him and did the same.

Inside the red case were two dozen files with unmarked tabs. A few in the front sat slightly open and there were pages visible within them. He lifted the front file and glanced through it. It looked like a transcription of his and Toni’s conversation on the way to New York.

The fob was bugged. He glanced up at the fob dangling off the key that was still in the lock of the raised trunk lid.

“Yup. This one’s mine.” He put the file back and pushed the files around inside the case to see if there was anything like a bug or homing device inside there. Finding none, he relatched the top, searched the exterior and bottom of the case, then removed it and sat it in the backseat of the Maserati.

Plympton was standing rigidly at the back of the Altima as Johnny returned. Giving Plympton a little time, he slid the key from the trunk lock and popped the fob apart. He found no microphone inside it. He put it back together. “Is that what you’re looking for?”

The diviza nodded slowly, engrossed in what he was reading.

“Jacques?”

The old man looked up.

“I have to go now. You’ll take this car?”

“Yes.” His eyes slid back to the documents in his hands.

Johnny wanted to hurry off, but something kept his feet planted. The old man had been true to his word. He’d let Johnny keep the information that was clearly pertinent to him. “Hey.”

“Hmmm?” Plympton didn’t stop scanning the paper in hand.

“Diviza.”

The use of his title made him break his focus on the newfound data. “Yes, sire?”

“Let’s get together tomorrow at the den and see what can be done about your situation.”

Plympton shook his head. “Not at the den.”

“Wherever you would like, then,” Johnny said, extending his hand to shake. “I will help you, Jacques.”

The diviza shook his hand. “And I will give the court my account of your beast.”

•  •  •

Johnny pulled into the driveway at the farmhouse at a quarter ’til four, mentally singing praises for the Maserati’s speed and handling, and the lack of police on the roadways that night.

Mountain met him at the door. “There’s been no change in Persephone,” he said.

“Demeter arrive?”

“Not yet.”

Johnny strode into the kitchen and stood with his arms crossed. He frowned and he paced. He circled Red. Then he sat before her and mimicked her pose. He couldn’t imagine staying positioned like this for hours.

What went wrong?

He wondered if the goose egg on her head had anything to do with it. What if she had a concussion? Doctors tended to want people to stay awake for a while after taking a knock to the head. Did meditation count as sleeping?

The urge to reach out and touch her arm, to shake her gently as if to rouse her from a deep sleep, was overwhelming. But he couldn’t do that.

If I hadn’t gone after Aurelia, she’d still be alive, I wouldn’t have made a deal with Plympton, and Red wouldn’t be like this.

From the living room, Mountain said, “There’s a car coming up the drive. I don’t recognize it.”

“Check the plates,” Johnny called out.

“Pennsylvania.”

“It’s someone from the Pittsburgh den bringing Demeter.”

He heard Mountain’s heavy steps heading for the door.

Johnny stood up, intending to go and greet her, but he stopped when Mountain said, “Look out. The granny looks distressed and she’s got a serious move on.” He opened the door. “Hello, Demeter.”

“Out of the way,” she said, pushing through the doorway. She gasped and stopped dead as her gaze took in the hole in the floor near the stairs, the broken handrail, and the splintered spindles. Finally, her eyes locked onto Johnny. “Where is she?” she demanded.

He put his back to the wall and pointed down the hall.

Her bad knees, worry, and the late hour combined to make her wobbly; she barreled past like a wild bowling ball, weaving side to side. Johnny fell into step, albeit on a straighter path, behind her. In the kitchen doorway she stopped again.

He was sure that the broken dinette table and chair, the tabletop against the wall, the bench lying on its back, the pieces of the old phone scattered around, and the set of claw marks torn into the linoleum stunned her. And there sat Red, posed peacefully in the midst of the wreckage that her kitchen now was.

Neither of them spoke.

Breathing heavily, Demeter studied Red. The moment grew interminable for Johnny. When he was about to say something, she finally shuffled one slow step forward. Then another. With her head cocked, she approached Red. She made two circuits around her granddaughter, and Johnny watched her face for a clue.

“What caused the lump on her head?”

Johnny told her about Red being hit with the chair, but didn’t mention that the attacker was a woman or, more specifically, his own w?rewolf assistant. “That was after the attack. From the mark on her neck I have to guess her assailant tried to strangle her first.”

Demeter looked up from her granddaughter and held his gaze. There was no blame in her eyes, no anger, but the grave trepidation was unmistakable. “This shit isn’t going to stop.”

He blinked.

“None of you three are safe anymore.” Her focus dropped onto Red again and her expression turned infinitely