Wicked Circle

thoughts when he touches you . . . and yet he can shield you from his own thoughts.”

Bastard. He’d claimed that spell amped up the imprinting bond that already existed between Johnny and me. He’d said it was all for my safety, so Johnny could feel my strong emotions and ride to my rescue if necessary. The bond hadn’t been any help when the Rege had kidnapped me, but the concussion I’d suffered had probably interfered.

“It is vexing that he waited until there was nothing you could have done to oppose him. Disguised in your intimacy, the spell was complete before you knew it was happening.” She released me and made a flicking gesture that caused the tree roots to form a seat behind Her as She sat. “He knew the sorsanimus would become necessary. Because the three of you are now additionally bound tight with that soul-sharing, he can use his ‘sign of love’ to read you. Through it, he can learn what you would otherwise hide, and therefore, his words can manipulate you to his aims more efficiently.”

“Are You saying that his goal isn’t the same as Yours?”

“I see the past that was, the present that is, and all the possibilities that the future holds, but Menessos travels a road unlike that of any other man. His path is unceasing, like that of a god. His choices are bold and yet unavoidably bound to the slaking of an unquenchable thirst. His purpose is difficult to define.”

“I thought he was Your servant. At the Eximium, You told him he was forgiven.”

She cocked Her head. “Menessos serves no one but himself. Sometimes even that selfishness can become a path that aligns with the goals of a goddess.”

“What were You forgiving him for?”

Hecate’s cackle of laughter echoed across the lake. She made no effort to answer.

That didn’t surprise me. We weren’t here to discuss Menessos’s past. We were here to discuss what he’d done without my permission. Including Johnny in it made it doubly wrong—even if Menessos’s intentions had been pure, and he was evidently incapable of pure intentions.

“The triangular power base the three of you have formed now binds you to each other, but it will not be pliable forever.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like an infant’s bones, such constructs harden as they age. Your triangle will break if each side is not equal to the others.”

“It could break?”

“You are all striving to adjust to the pressure put upon you; should one grow too fast, it burdens the other sides. The sides of the triangle stretch as each of you grow. This forces a matched pace upon you all. If one stumbles or fails to meet your challenges, you risk collapse and the failure of all.”

I considered this. “So you’re saying the in signum amoris has to go.”

“Indeed.” She added, “The sides must be equal. Not even your side can dominate.”

“How do I get rid of it?”

Her strange gaze was a physical touch upon me, raising the hair along my arms and up the nape of my neck. “The sorsanimus binding is virtually impervious. That shielding links the three of you together. It is a protection like thick stone walls.” She sat forward and clenched Her hands to characterize strength. “And you will all need that. By comparison, the vampire’s ‘sign of love’ is but a wooden fence.” Her pose relaxed and though She sat back, Her chin remained elevated. “Yet even that could destroy you all.”

“And there’s no way for Johnny and I to grow to match this?”

“It gives the vampire an unfair advantage. Rather than try to re-create it for yourself and the wolf, remove it.”

“How?”

“You must unmake it. Burn his fence to the ground, so to speak.”

I stood, ready. “It’s here? A physical fence in this world?”

She motioned for me to sit. “You passed the test of fire here,” she said. “Passed the test of water.”

Fire was represented by the south. I’d witnessed my own burning at the stake in that test. Water corresponded to the west. I’d nearly drowned during that test. A deosil path around the pagan elemental compass would mean that earth was the next element, yet something in my gut nagged at me. She’d hauled me out on the water and away from land, away from earth.

“Air?” I asked.

“Air,” she said.

CHAPTER FOUR

Eris Alcmedi saw her daughter stumble and she laughed—until the torch fuel exploded in a blast of white light. Seph lay in the water, and she wasn’t getting up.

Stunned, immobile, Eris thought, Get up, Persephone. Get up.

Beside her, Demeter started forward, then halted. “My knees,” she said. “I can’t get her. Go!” She pushed Eris forward, panic in her voice as she commanded, “Go, the river’s taking her! She’ll drown!”

The alarm in Demeter’s tone triggered Eris into action. She charged down the slope in her slick-soled cowboy boots and immediately lost her footing. Without two arms to pump and swing for balance, she lurched and fell on her behind. She scrambled up too fast, tripped over her own feet, and then dropped to her knees. Momentum pitched her forward. She thought to catch herself on the heels of her hands, but her brain forgot what her body was missing and she toppled to the right, smacking her face and shoulder into the rocks and mud. Cold pain shot over her cheek and she saw stars.

Stunned, she found her thoughts speeding in circles; she was strangely unwilling to make the usual instinctive self-recriminations.

“Get her, Eris! Quick!” Demeter shouted.

Eris scrambled up, keeping the white of Seph’s dress in sight as she plunged into the river, but the mist was determined to obscure her view. She sloshed in up to her knees. Her boots filled with water—So cold! —and her feet became leaden weights. Each step was a burden. Why am I doing this anyway? She’s the Lustrata. The goddess won’t let anything happen to her.

Eris halfheartedly pressed on. When the frigid water was thigh-deep, she stretched and groped for the dress hem. I can’t do this. I can’t dive for her. . . . I can’t swim one-armed! I’ll be lost.

Without warning, she slipped on a slimy rock and went down. She heard Demeter call her name just before the water closed over her head. The current tugged at her, impeding her effort to stand. She fought with the current, kicked her feet into position and planted them.

Finally, gasping, she broke the surface only to hear Demeter screaming. Eris wiped her eyes and searched around for a sign of Seph’s white dress.

Persephone was yards away now, so far out of reach. Eris stared in disbelief as the powerful flow of the river swept Seph away. The mist closed in.

Seph isn’t the Lustrata. This wouldn’t be happening if she were. She’s going to die. . . .

Eris turned and struggled back to the shore in a panic. “I couldn’t get to her, I couldn’t get to her! I couldn’t!” Demeter was sitting on the shore. She tried to get up, grimaced, and rubbed her knee.

“Mom? Are you okay, Mom?”

“Where’s Persephone?”

“I couldn’t get to her.”

“She’ll drown!” Contempt, blame and disappointment flashed in Demeter’s eyes.

“The river carried her away.”

The lap of the water taunted Eris, laughing at her weakness. The silence between them was a crushing weight.

Demeter pushed her fingers down into the mud on either side of her and chanted. “Poseidon, naiads, hippocampi! Protect my granddaughter and bear her to the shore . . . that she may come to rest where she belongs. Bear her to the shore. Bear her to the shore.”