Wicked Circle

He ignored it all, sitting and picking up the phone in one motion. He was punching in Persephone’s number when his new assistant walked in. “Aurelia—”

“You may call me Aury, if you like.”

“I have a few things to take care of first. Then I’ll see you.”

She sat across from him. “I can wait.”

“Do it somewhere else.”

Aurelia crossed her long legs unhurriedly. “You want to make sure that I understand I am not your top priority. I get it, Mr. Newman. But please try to remember I work for the Zvonul and am here to aid you.”

He tore his eyes from her thighs and said, “Aurelia, I don’t play games. If I say I have other things to do, I do. It’s not a show meant to put you in your place.”

“Then you need me more than you think you do.”

Johnny shoved the receiver onto the cradle. “You will wait somewhere else.”

“Pout, pout.” She strutted out.

Kirk appeared in the doorway but directed a whistle after the leggy blonde who’d just passed. “Dude. It’s good to be the king.”

Johnny couldn’t stifle the single laugh at the movie reference. “What do you need?”

“It’s William. He’s awake, but he’s not responding. Beau’s calling an ambulance.”

“Send someone with him.”

“Renaldo is still here.”

“He’ll do.”

Kirk left, calling out, “Hector wants you to call him.”

Johnny picked up the phone again and punched in the number for Seph’s satellite phone.

She didn’t answer. When the voice mail picked up, he couldn’t bear to leave a lame recorded apology. He hung up and dialed the house number.

No one answered that either.

Jaw clamped, he dug out his cell phone and found the number for Menessos. He couldn’t call that—the sun was up and the vamp was tucked in with his dirt bag—but a secondary listing was that of the haven. He called that number.

It rang and rang without going to any kind of message service. Pissed and worried, Johnny let it ring. There had to be some Offerlings or Beholders around somewhere.

Finally, someone picked up. “Hello?”

“Ivanka?”

“Da.”

“This is Johnny. Where’s Persephone?”

“Who?”

“The Erus Veneficus.”

The heavy sigh that answered him made his stomach ice over. “I know the shabbubitum were there last night. What happened, and where is Seph now?”

“No idea.”

Great. I need to know what’s happening and I get the one person in the haven who can barely speak the language and isn’t big on details. “What do you mean you don’t know? What happened?”

“She mark our boss two times. She Make him like Offerling to her.”

An awful thought occurred to him. “Did the shabbubitum take her?”

“They try.”

“Ivanka. Tell me what happened!”

“She fly away on broom. Creature pursue her. Neither come back.”

He stood. Damn this den for its concrete walls that block cell phones! I could be on my way to my car— “Who’s out searching for her?”

“All Beholders. All Offerlings.”

“Did they check her house?”

“Mountain already there.”

Right. Duh. “Write down these numbers . . . ready?”

“Wait . . .”

Johnny groaned impatiently.

“My arm broken. Be patient or I no write number.”

Be nice to the Offerling you want to call you if they find anything out. “What happened to your arm?”

“Strange man at E.V.’s house. Bastard snap like twig.”

“When? Yesterday?”

“Da.”

No wonder Red was acting so weird when she came to do the ritual. Then I— The guilt he felt was so sharp he cut off the words before he could even think them. He gave Ivanka the numbers. “Call if you learn anything, but I’m on my way over there. I’ll get some of my men organized and we will help with the search.”

“No. Stay away. Forget her.”

“Ivanka—”

“E.V. betray us. She betray you, too.”

The phone went dead.

This wasn’t right. He had to do something. He had to go and find her—

He couldn’t ditch the press conference. The Zvonul had set it up, and if he was a no-show he’d be getting his “kinghood” off to a terrible start, discrediting the Zvonul and making wærewolves everywhere look unreliable.

I have a few hours. I can search a while and then go to the announcement.

He had just hung up the receiver when Aurelia reappeared in the doorway with her arms folded over her chest, the file dangling to the side by her fingertips. “It’s nine o’clock. We have six hours until your press conference. We have to find you a suit and write a brief speech. We have to have your security team assembled and briefed. We have to scout the location and pinpoint the best positions for security placement before the reporters begin arriving, and they do tend to be early, vying to gain the best vantage point for their cameras. So can we get started while there’s still a chance to pull this off and look professional?”

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

I became aware.

I opened my eyes as if I’d been sleeping, and I think I had been, but there was nothing to see but blackness so all-consuming that not even an indication of shape pierced this dark.

My mouth was full of salt. Spitting, I reached up—pain.

It ricocheted around my body with more force than I’d put into the attempt.

A full minute later the pain had subsided enough that sense returned and I could contemplate the state of my own body. I was lying on my side, I was cold, and my wrists and ankles were tightly bound. A length of rope connected the two bindings, further limiting my ability to move and forcing me into an uncomfortably cramped position. Every breath made my shoulder prickle. It remained out of socket. My right fingers were numb and I continued to spit salt. On the plus side, I still wore the dress and shoes.

I blinked and blinked but couldn’t get used to this dark, couldn’t cut through it. As black as the inside of a cat, as Nana would say.

Unwilling to move my body, I used the only other thing I had: my head. Rubbing my cranium against the