him virtually incapacitated while my investigation continued.”
“It was your bitch who did this to him.” Goliath’s features hardened. The corner of his mouth crooked up and the mask of a criminal contemplating wickedness was complete. “So your token gesture means shit to me.”
“Goliath!” Menessos’s voice wafted from deep in the chamber. “Bring him to me.”
The Beholders emerged from the back room, leaving with the stretcher. One of them said, “Risqué asked that you give her a few minutes before bringing the guest in.” Goliath allowed the Beholders out, then he gestured Mero and the two women begrudgingly toward the seating area in the front room.
Mero ordered Ailo and Talto to sit at the leather in-the-round couches, and the three of them waited until the Offerling had tended her master’s legs. Carrying the remains of his torn pants, she left. Goliath, Seven, and Mark remained with him.
Through the door the Offerling had failed to close, Mero heard Menessos saying, “You need to go, to keep the others calm. Assure them I am fine, that all will be well.”
“But—” Seven began.
“Do as I ask. Do it now.”
She and Mark departed, the former casting a worried glance at Mero on her way out. Mark called out, “I’m on door duty, Goliath.”
When the outer door shut, Mero stood, anticipating that he would now be allowed to see Menessos. As he neared the entry, Goliath asked, “When did she mark you? How?”
Mero stepped into view. Menessos was on the bed, covered by a sheet, but he was sitting up and in the process of unbuttoning his shirt. “Perhaps it is best if he not answer,” Mero said.
Goliath spun and gave him a scathing scowl.
“The less you know, the better it will be for you.”
“You don’t scare me.” Goliath’s voice was low, like a warning.
Menessos pulled his arms from the suit shirt casually, but the note of his voice was urgent as he said, “Goliath, the Advisor and I must speak privately.”
The Alter Imperator’s struggle with this request was obvious, but Goliath bowed slightly and said, “As you wish, my master.”
“Entertain the ladies for me,” Mero said as he passed.
Goliath did not answer, but shut the door behind him.
“His loyalty to you is impressive.” Mero appraised the room’s size, the stones of the wall broken only by a thick, rough-hewn mahogany mantel that encircled the room at chest level. Trinkets were set upon it here and there. Furniture was sparse, and a large mahogany poster-bed swathed in black silk dominated the area.
“Indeed.” Menessos tossed the shirt to the floor. “It has been too long.”
“I wish the circumstances were better.”
“I wish you had left the shabbubitum in their stones.” He groaned and rolled each shoulder as if to loosen stiff muscles. Under the sheet that covered him, his legs stretched, testing. “Their inquiry hurts like hell.”
“Sorry about Liyliy’s boots.”
“Easy for you to say.”
Mero spread his arms slightly. “I figured interrupting her at that point might be dangerous. My concern might have been misconstrued.”
Menessos conceded both points with a tip of his head. “All things considered, I am glad you remembered our old game. Bring the chair.” He gestured toward the far corner.
Relieved and assured that Menessos was not changed for the long years since they had last spoken, he reached for the chair, then froze and assessed its nearby mate. “Are these—?”
Menessos nodded. “The castle in Caernarvonshire.”
“I heard they had sold everything a few years back.” Mero gaped at the high-backed William and Mary seats.
“I had them reupholstered. Come.”
“Amazing.” He carefully lifted the antique, carried it to the bedside and sat. That Menessos cared to hold on to trinkets from the past was another sign that encouraged Mero. “I hope whatever you have in mind is worth the damage you just took.”
Menessos affected a calm demeanor. “I relinquish my status.”
“A new Quarterlord will be appointed.”
“Goliath will have my haven.”
“He is too young—!”
“I’m not saying he will be Quarterlord, but he
Mero shook his head and sat forward. “You know what will happen. Goliath will be challenged by older vamps who long for such status.”
“He can take it.”
His old friend seemed to have it all worked out. Yet he had the distinct feeling this conversation was being steered as well. “Are you certain?”
“Absolutely.”
Mero sat back. “I will do what I can.”
“How did you secure the release of the shabbubitum?”
Without giving Menessos the exact details, he answered, “I filtered their souls through apples and amber, trapping a piece of each in the gemstones. Via the stones, I can exert my will.”
Menessos considered that. “Was it your idea to release them?”
“No. Heldridge requested it.”
“Damn that fool.” Menessos rubbed his temple. “Deric went for it on his word?”
“Not his. A clever bit of vengeful redirection swayed him.”
Menessos was silent, then said, “Giovanni.”
“His grudge is as ugly and as permanent as his scars.”
“He should be dead. That he is not should make him grateful enough to get over it.”
“Time does not heal
Silence followed, then Menessos broke it by casually asking, “So your son did not send you here with a stake in addition to that scroll?”
Mero shook his head side to side. “No stake.”
“And what of my witch?”
Mero tilted his head, curious. The underlying intensity in those words made him think this was the point they’d been coming to all along. “That is more difficult to say.”
“Call Liyliy back.” It was not a request.
“I cannot.”
The air crackled between them and Mero felt the other vampire tap the ley. Menessos leaned forward, sneering. “If Persephone is harmed, the scope of my wrath will surmount any torment you’ve ever known.”
The threat was frightening, but it was equally telling. “She’s more than just the Lustrata to you.”
“Mero.” Menessos’s voice was like a taut string, ready to snap. “I heard you tell Liyliy to bring her back. You did not specify ‘alive.’ Call. Her. Back.”
“It is not that I am unwilling to call her back, I am unable.” Mero stood, paced away. “On her way out, Liyliy stole from me the necklace bearing the amber.”
“You fool!” Menessos threw the sheet back.
Before he could get up, Mero placed a restraining hand on Menessos’s shoulder. He said, “Stop,” but Menessos threw him off and thrust his legs over the side of the bed. Spreading smears of red appeared on the bandages. “Stop!” Mero shouted. “You’re not ready to be up yet.”
The door opened and Goliath stood there waiting for his master to give a signal.
“Your wounds are deep,” Mero said. “She practically cut you to the bone.” Feeding on his Offerlings would accelerate the healing process, but it was not instantaneous. If Menessos was able to walk around without ripping his stitches before the dawn, he’d be very lucky. “Please, sit back and allow me to explain,” Mero said.
