Wicked Circle

I spun to grab the broom leaning against my seat. Menessos had also told me to be ready to flee, and I was sooo out of here. “Awaken ye to life,” I whispered as soon as my hand was on the broomstick.

Then Goliath’s hand was on mine.

With a shocked gasp, I tried but couldn’t wrench free. “Strike me,” he said softly. “Now.”

I blinked stupidly but saw Giovanni heading toward me.

“Make it good, Lustrata, while I can still be of aid.”

I yanked free and smacked the handle of the broomstick across his forehead. He stumbled back.

I lowered my grip on the broom and swung it at him, connecting with the side of his head. Off balance, he tumbled off the dais and right against Giovanni. Both fell down hard.

“Restrain her!” Giovanni croaked.

Liyliy struggled to her feet—her footwear wasn’t making it easy.

Frankly, straddling a broom in a hurry wasn’t easy. Doing so in a dress was worse. The dress’s high, high slit made the straddling part easier, but actually sitting the broom with my feet tucked up behind me and my toes curled over the dried and dyed-black straw was completely immodest. Everyone could see my undies as I flew up and across the former theater.

I heard Mero say, “Get her, Liyliy. Bring her to me.”

A screech—a terrible, grating and inhuman sound—filled the theater. Over my shoulder I saw Liyliy’s body transforming, becoming something owl-like. Something with wings.

Shit.

I intentioned the broom faster, hunkering as I shot past Sever and through the double doors of the theater entrance. The broom skidded sideways in the hall. Accustomed to flying in the wide-open sky, I meant to use more speed than was wise. I needed to maneuver, and there wasn’t enough room to accelerate.

At the bottom of the staircase, I could hear the sounds of giant wings struggling with a space not large enough for them. A shriek of frustration chased me up the stairwell, but so did the crack of splintering wood. Liyliy wasn’t giving up.

On the ground floor, I turned toward the ticket booth, shouting, “Open the doors!” to the guards ahead. The vampire on duty did as he was bidden, then—bless him—recognized that he’d be in the way. To his credit, he hit the ground and propped the door open with his torso.

I intentioned the broom up and avoided the people on the sidewalk just beyond the haven’s entrance. The abruptness and manner of my exit caused people to point and shout. Heading due north, I looked back and saw Liyliy crash through the haven doors, shattering them. The people’s shouts changed into screams. She had become a giant black owl, stumbling about on her talons before her flapping wings caught air.

Intent on my escape, I wondered where I could go.

Not the den. Wait! I have a dragon at home.

As I sped up and into the night, I passed over the Cleveland Memorial Shoreway and wondered if I could ask that much of Zoltan. He had no wings. Sure, Creepy had transformed him for the purpose of my protection, but leading this harpy to my house meant putting all of my animals and Mountain in danger. A standoff wouldn’t be pretty even if I did win, and, worse, she could use everything there as leverage.

Where would I have an advantage over a giant, pissed-off owl? Certainly not high up in the wide-open sky. Maybe I could outmaneuver her. Just as I was closing in on the water of Lake Erie, I intentioned a hard left and zoomed south around the backside of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Skimming the North Coast Harbor walkway, I heard a screech and shot upward, rocketing over the dome of the Great Lakes Science Center and heading for the turbine.

Owls are renowned for their specialized feathers that afford them nearly silent flight, so I kept checking behind me. Liyliy had been gaining, but my evasive spin cost her. She was pumping her wings hard.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Meroveus Franciscus knew Liyliy was transforming to pursue the Erus Veneficus. “Bring her to me,” he commanded. Her answer was a scream as her body warped. Her nose elongated and curved sharply down like a beak. Her pouting pink lips grew thin and faded to white, becoming a crooked line with drooping ends. It was nauseating to see her skin swell and sag, beset with wrinkles, as that cracked topography replaced her lovely face with sunken ravines and bruised slopes. When the feathers burst forth, she screeched again, revealing two rows of little pointed teeth in her hideous mouth.

As the eldest of the sisters took flight, her wing brushed his chest and a gust of wind hit him hard enough to force him a single step backward. He visually followed her departure, but as soon as she was out of sight, he realized, The most dangerous of the three just slipped away.

Perhaps I should call her back.

He reached to his chest to touch the necklace—and discovered it was gone. Instantly, his jaw clamped hard and his hand curled into a fist. So clever! She’s stolen the only means I have of controlling them—but her sisters do not know that. He collected himself and smoothly flattened his fingers on his chest as if merely smoothing his shirt.

Movement on the stage drew his attention. Giovanni shoved the Alter Imperator off of him and lurched onto his feet. “You idiot!” he shouted at Goliath. “You let her get away!”

Slowly, and with some graceless difficulty, Goliath got his feet under him. He shook his head, dazed.

“Liyliy will bring her back,” Mero said calmly. With the necklace gone, however, he was sure Liyliy wouldn’t bother chasing the Erus Veneficus. She would simply flee, but no one else knew she had that option.

Giovanni stared down at Menessos, who was in shock and bleeding profusely. Liyliy’s sisters were lapping at the blood on his thighs. “Damn, this is sweet,” Giovanni said as he crouched. “You’re ruined. And now the Excelsior’s wrath is yours. Let’s drain him dry, ladies.” He dropped to his knees, and, mouth wide, fangs gleaming, aimed for Menessos’s throat.

Goliath ran forward and kicked Giovanni in the head. The blow had enough force to send Giovanni sprawling backward. His nose gushed blood. Across the theater, Sever was heard emitting a triumphant, “Yes!”

Giovanni threw his arms up and trembled with rage, screaming as he gathered himself to stand.

Goliath straddled his wounded master and glowered at the sisters, who scurried away to sit at Meroveus’s feet like dogs.

“You dare!” Giovanni bellowed. “You dare strike me? You’re in league with him! Has she marked you as well?” Giovanni spun to Mero. “Tell them to read him!”

Meroveus shrugged. “When Liyliy returns. Perhaps.”

“Mero!” Giovanni shouted.

“Unless I am presented with a sealed document of kill-authorization from the Excelsior,” Goliath said through gritted teeth, “none of you bastards will touch my master.”

“I bear no such document,” Mero said. He knew his son would not sign such. “Do you, Giovanni?”

The other advisor’s answer was a wordless growl. He stomped from the stage and away toward the theater entrance.

Mero wandered closer and scrutinized the Quarterlord. He had seen Menessos at his best; this had to be his worst. It pained him to know that he had delivered this trouble to the great Menessos. “Call your Offerlings to the stage,” he said softly.

The Quarterlord’s mouth worked, but no sound came out.

“Offerlings! Attend your master!” Goliath’s voice boomed into the stunned silence of the theater. People rushed up the ramp. Offerling blood was imbued with the essence of their master, twice the amount Beholders had. Drinking of them provided him sustenance greater than the blood of the unmarked.

Twenty minutes later, Goliath instructed Beholders to bring a stretcher. They conveyed their master offstage to his personal quarters. Mero followed. Goliath blocked him from entering. “You will let me by,” Mero said.

Goliath shook his head. “No. I won’t.” Behind him, Seven and Mark hurried into the back chamber. A woman with blond ringlets and red eyes directed the Beholders as they carried Menessos in after the pair.

“As senior officer representing the Excelsior, I could have denied him the sustenance of his people and kept