Wicked Circle

“That, my dear, could win you the Understatement of the Year Award.”

His being here was making more sense. “What are your options?”

“One, we could delve into the Hellish pits of the blackest magic and overlay my entire psyche with a completely new set of memories, hoping they are innocent memories and that they don’t affect who I actually am. Two, I could abandon you, change my name and flee, then in a century or two reemerge and pretend to be a weak, new vampire while receiving the shelter of another master for an additional century or two. Or three, I could abandon you and crawl into a random grave and lie there starving until I become a revenant. Insane with hunger, I would lose all self-awareness, and with any luck someone from SSTIX would stake me before the shabbubitum even found out.”

The Specialized Squadron for Tactical Investigation of Xenocrime—SSTIX—was the government’s answer to the nationwide issue of state and local law enforcement’s refusing to serve and protect where nonhumans—and greater personal risks—were involved.

That two of his options involved fleeing stunned me. And hurt me. The only choice that didn’t involve him leaving sounded infinitely dangerous and implausible. He can’t just run away. He’s part of this! We’re not whole without him. “What if you simply submitted to it?”

“Easy for you to say.”

“No, I mean instead of resisting, what if you—” Before I could even finish I could tell by his expression that he was not fond of what I was saying.

“That is another option.”

“Would they go easy on you? Would it make a positive difference in the experience?”

“No. Nor would they show any restraint on you. They are not capable of pity.”

With an effort I swallowed down the big lump suddenly in my throat. If he has to run, it will be temporary. “Have you decided which option to take?”

He didn’t answer.

In fact, he was silent long enough that my own fears ignited a fiery willingness to push. “Johnny’s right, isn’t he? You’re hiding. And about to flee.” Am I actually selfish enough to prefer that he stay and be tortured by these things?

“Changing my name and reemerging with another is the option that benefits you most.”

“That benefits me how?”

“If I flee, it will give the impression that I have broken your hold on me. That might spare you any further entanglements.”

I wasn’t as worried about “further entanglements” as I was about losing him. I couldn’t fulfill my destiny without him. I wanted to scream, What about me? Instead, calmly, I said, “What about your haven?”

“VEIN has been told that I was mastered by a witch, a witch formerly believed to be my servant. My haven is lost to me already.” His voice was tight and little more than a whisper.

My heart was so heavy. This was all because of me. He’d known he was risking this, but he hadn’t told me. I hadn’t even considered the consequences would be this high. I should have.

Guilt and shame chilled my stomach. Fear iced it over. “You fleeing means you avoid getting killed, and I go on the shit-list, but they won’t strike against me because of that ‘Moonchild of ruin’ business, right?”

Menessos quoted the poem:

Lustrata walks,

unspoiled into the light.

Sickle in hand,

she stalks through the night

Wearing naught but her mark and silver blade.

The moonchild of ruin, she becomes Wolfsbane.

“Yeah.”

“That depends on whether or not you’re willing to be marked by the Excelsior.”

It did say Wearing naught but her mark . . . “If it saves our asses . . .” I started, but I really meant, If it means you don’t leave.

“No, Persephone! The three of us are bound in a way that our respective groups dare not hope to accomplish. That we have achieved a workable union both frightens and fascinates them. Our binding to each other strengthens us, but none of us can afford a binding to anyone of higher rank, or to others not of our own kind. It would break us.”

But your leaving wouldn’t? I held my tongue.

“Persephone, I believe the Excelsior has only the best interests of his people at heart, but if he had control over you, it would be only for whatever benefit he could achieve for VEIN. The Witch Elder Council would not abide their Lustrata being controlled by the Excelsior.”

I let my head rest against the glass, appreciating the way the coldness of it balanced my frozen stomach.

“Your current solitary status means you lack affiliation to a coven. That forces WEC to pigeonhole you into a role that reflects the disaffected segment of their kind. That already has given the Elders much to worry about—and they’re so old they sleep little as it is, meaning they have vast amounts of time to plot and plan. Their designs would only worsen if they thought you were marked by the Excelsior.”

I crossed my arms and moped.

“When the news of dear John’s confirmation as the Domn Lup breaks, your lover will be included on, as you delightfully put it, the shit-list.”

“Have we hit the worst-case scenario yet?” I was being sarcastic. Sadly, Menessos had an answer.

“The worst-case scenario,” he said, “is if WEC, VEIN, or the Zvonul discover the sorsanimus spell that binds the three of us. We did it to keep you from being Bindspoken by the witches, but it strengthens us all. If detected, it will appear that we’re preparing a coup d’état.”

“Are we?”

Menessos was silent.

“If they think we’re prepping for a power grab, they’ll just kill us all outright. Won’t they?”

“They will have to assume the three of us are sharing what confidential information we know about our respective groups. Further, they will assume that we will use the growth of our individual powers to our mutual benefit. We could all be targeted for execution, as you suggest. Or . . .” He made a visual sweep of the perimeter before answering. “They might act with more cunning. Each group has the potential to send operatives to test our loyalties to each other. Just one could pit us against each other. Dividing us would not only end the union but it would also offer that group an advantage via the information they learn in doing so.”

Could Menessos or Johnny be played by outside forces?

Could I?

Wonderful. His adherence to the Machiavellian vampire stereotype was making my head hurt. I rubbed my forehead as if that might deflect the spinning-out-of-control sensation.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Congratulations. You’ve just made me paranoid of everyone.”

He leaned forward. “I am sorry, Persephone. I truly am. That paranoia is the only thing that will keep us united and safe.”

When he said my name a wave of warmth poured over me like a magical embrace. It emboldened me enough to ask, “How can we be united and safe if you flee?”

The vampire studied the world beyond the car window. “I do not want VEIN to know I am the original progenitor of the vampires. If that information is exhumed, it cannot be reburied.”

He’d told me this before. A little more than two weeks ago. Goddess, it seems like so long ago. I’d wanted him to tell VEIN the truth so they would rally to his aid against the fairies, but he’d refused. He had been willing to die to keep that secret. And he had.

I was not insensitive to the fact that he had given the most precious thing he’d had—his very life—to