Shattered Circle

sad. Her hands rose as if to touch the mound of her beehive hairdo—but she’d cut her hair short. She altered the gesture to place her palms on her cheeks. “When we get her out of this . . . things have to change.”

Johnny nodded. Demeter didn’t even know about Beverley yet. He figured he’d save that for later. The elderly woman had enough on her mind right now. “But you can bring her out, right?”

“Not alone I can’t.”

“What do you need me to do?”

Demeter sized him up, then glanced at Mountain, who’d come to stand in the doorway from the other room. “Nothing. I need witches.”

CHAPTER forty-four

Ailo ran through the haven to the theater, across the stage and into the backstage area. No guard had come to replace Vinny. Good. She climbed the metal stairs silently, keyed the code on the door, and opened it.

“What the fuck?” Risque stood up from the sofa. Seeing Ailo, her red eyes flashed and she added, “You can get your conniving ass right the hell out of here.”

“Menessos said he needs you to come to the accounting office.”

One thin blond brow arched. “Why?”

“Something’s gone wrong.”

“And that has got what to do with me?”

“He did not elaborate.” Ailo was irritated that Risque wasn’t simply complying. “You are an Offerling. He sent for you, and you must go.”

Risque crossed her arms. “I don’t know anything about accounting.”

“So? Your master sent for you.”

“So?” Risque mimicked her.

Ailo stomped across the room and right up to the one person standing between her and the child. She was taller than Risque, who must have slipped out of her usual clear high heels to stretch out on the sofa. Looking down her nose at the red-eyed woman, Ailo said, “When he says jump, you ask how high. That is how a haven works. Offerlings obey. Period.”

Risque was not to be easily intimidated. Her hands dropped onto her hips. She thrust her nose against Ailo’s. “Clearly, you don’t know me very well.”

“Your master said—”

“Honey, Menessos and I have an understanding.” She pulled away from Ailo and tilted her head. “Besides, he isn’t the boss anymore. Goliath rules the haven now, or have you forgotten?” The sweet smile she ended with was as fake as the lie Ailo was trying to use.

Ailo didn’t have time for the banter. She had to get the child and get out of there. Balling up her fist, she hit Risque in the jaw.

The blow knocked Risque to the sofa with a squeal of surprise and pain. Ailo leapt upon her. Sitting on Risque’s chest, she held her down while repeatedly punching her in the head.

Pinned against the cushion, Risque’s arms were stuck at her sides. She clawed at Ailo’s dress, but that was insignificant. Ailo kept punching, right then left, until the Offerling gave up trying to fight back. Surely she would lose consciousness soon.

Then the heel of a clear stiletto pump bit into Ailo’s side. She looked down as Risque drew back for another awkward strike. She hadn’t given up trying to fight back; she’d managed to pick up one of her shoes to use as a weapon. This time when it slammed against Ailo’s body, it pierced the flesh and sank deep.

Screaming in pain, Ailo instinctively leaned away from the weapon.

Risque used that moment to flip Ailo onto the floor. She kicked the shabbubitu repeatedly, then clambered onto Ailo’s chest and began throttling her about the head. “How do you like it, bitch? How do you like it?”

Now Ailo’s arms were restrained, but she put her hands against Risque’s thighs and called on her power to read people, urgently probing deep into the other woman’s mind. She hissed at the Offerling, ready to give her much agony.

Risque laughed and punched Ailo in the mouth, splitting her lip on a fang.

Ailo dug her nails in, desperate to force a reading.

Risque slid her fingers through Ailo’s hair, gripped tightly at the sides of her head, and slammed her skull against the floor three times. “You dumbass, I’m the one person in this haven immune to your touchy-feely shit.” She twisted to slam her fist against the shoe embedded in Ailo’s side.

Screaming, Ailo spat blood from her mouth. She willed a change, wanting to become an owl, but the chains around her neck prevented her from transforming fully. Still, she pushed the change into her legs and feet, feeling talons stretch out from her toes.

Reaching awkwardly up, her talons snatched hold of Risque’s arms and she kicked the woman across the room. Risque slammed into the stools at the kitchen counter, sending them flying like bowling pins.

Ailo staggered into an upright position as her feet reverted to human. She tore the shoe from her side and started forward. “What are you?” There was no one she couldn’t read.

Picking herself up from the floor, Risque touched her already swollen face, dabbed at one puffy eye. “I’m your worst nightmare.”

Ailo called to the magic that clothed her, shifting the fabric to a short sheath dress, the excess forming silver weapons in her hands, cylinders that fit her grip nicely, with points on either end. “You don’t look like more than a mild daydream to me.”

“Is this better?” Risque thrust her hands downward with a jerk and flames swirled across her skin. With a toss of her head, her pale ringlets transmuted into a mass of thin, hissing white serpents.

“Daughter of Hell,” Ailo whispered.

Risque leapt at Ailo.

Diving to the side, Ailo rolled away. Risque landed on the sofa, knocking it over with her momentum, then setting it aflame with her burning hands. Ailo pounced as she was clambering to her feet, and struck at the half- demon. Risque threw herself backward, kicking out and knocking the weapon from Ailo’s hand. It clanged to the floor and reverted to quicksilver, which pooled and slithered to rejoin with Ailo.

Risque crouched behind the burning sofa, her every serpentine appendage hissing.

As smoke filled the room, Ailo changed her weapons into daggers and advanced. As she swiped the blades before her, Risque blocked with fire so hot, it melted the blades as they passed through the flames.

The fire alarm began clanging. With a scream of frustration, Ailo threw a dagger.

Risque raised her hands to block it but miscalculated the speed, and it sailed through her defenses. She lurched sideways at the last, and the dagger sheared off the heads of three white serpents. Blood dripped from their severed bodies. The weapon clattered to the floor and dissolved into a pool of liquid.

Ailo magicked another dagger from her quicksilver and launched it. The blade thumped into Risque’s torso between her lowest ribs. She fell backward. The dagger pooled on her skin, disappearing inside the wound, only to roll around under her skin, making her scream and writhe, before the liquid slithered out of the wound and returned to Ailo.

A scream from her side drew Ailo’s attention.

The child stood holding back the curtain that separated the back half of the room. Her eyes were wide, jumping from the burning couch to Ailo, to Risque, and back.

Ailo ran to the girl. “I’m here to help you.”

She took a step back. “Did Celia send you?”

Ailo started to agree, then she had a better idea. “No. Persephone did. Come with me.” When the child took her offered hand, Ailo sent the fabric rushing down her arm, encircling the girl’s head, gagging her mouth lest she scream, and wrapping her body in a cocoon of gray satin. It left very little in covering for Ailo, but that was irrelevant. She lifted the girl in her arms and hurried from the room, leaving Risque gasping for air on the floor.