I wasn’t certain how to take that, but I was convinced that he’d intended for me to be unsure.
“She’s a very talented witch, you know. Not like you, my Lustrata master, but she has certain skills.” He cleared his throat. “She’s headstrong. She was not satisfied to be merely pampered in Heldridge’s court. She owns a confectionary shop. It is called DeMonique’s Boutique of Unique Chocolat, and is in Terminal Tower.”
“I take it she’s French.”
“Eva de Monique is many things, but first and foremost, she is French. French couture. French chef. French witch.”
I wondered if he was trying to make me jealous. And then I wondered if he was succeeding. “That’s great,” I said quickly. “Perhaps you can publicly renounce me—send me home as unwilling to take orders or something—and make her your Erus Veneficus.” Maybe that would appease the local parents and Beverley wouldn’t be left in the middle, friendless.
“You would leave me?” He sounded hurt.
“If you have another witch you don’t need me.”
“Forever will I need you, my master.” He put special emphasis on the word “need.” “She could be your apprentice.”
“That’s backwards. She’s an experienced court witch. I’m not.”
“That hardly matters since I dictate what her place is.”
“But taking her would be a benevolent gesture to the others in Heldridge’s court.”
“I have taken her.”
Ignoring the remark, I went on. “What I meant was if you make her your EV then it shows the rest of them that you are willing to take them on. It might be the very thing to cement their loyalty to you.”
“There are many ways to cement one’s loyalty. I could use her to show them the depths of my cruelty. Fear accomplishes much.”
“Menessos.” I hoped he was teasing me.
“It is expected that I should take Heldridge’s trophies. To give up my own for them is illogical.”
“So dismissing me in favor of her would have meaning for them?”
“You have been the single bright spot in all this darkness, Persephone.”
When he said my name, I could smell cinnamon. He clearly hadn’t lost the ability to affect me by saying my name, but it had changed. The second hex evidently provided him a broader range in which to influence me, and a refined amount of control.
I thought of the vampire PR campaign broadcasting the idea that vampire lords were merely executives who keep their employees, the vampire underlings, in line. I gave it one last shot. “This would be a good business decision for you, wouldn’t it?”
“I find myself unwilling to part with you in that way.”
But you’ll join with her in my stead. My jaw was clamped shut and I did not voice the thought. It was as if our bond, and the predilection for him it gave me, stoked up false jealousy. My inner smart-ass had always been easily riled.
“And,” he continued, “since the witches have denounced you for becoming my EV, if I denied you as well, you’d have only the wærewolves left. They have little tolerance for witches. What you suggest is folly.”
“Maybe this spell is folly,” I grumbled. “They will retain their man-minds without you being a part of the ritual, right?”
“Yes. Magic is so fluid that spells are rarely performed the same exact way twice, what with planetary alignments always in motion changing the mixture of energies. Do not fret over this detail. The desired result is often reaccomplished. That is because of the spellcaster, and you, dear, delicious Persephone, are quite capable.”
I’d just saved the final version of my column on the computer in the dining room when I caught a glimpse of headlights turning into the driveway. “Maxine and Zhan are back,” Mountain called out. He held the door for them as they came in, each with a sleeping bag and a pillow tucked under her arm. They allowed him to return to the grove and informed me it was their plan to alternate for night watch; whoever wasn’t on duty would unroll their bag and sleep on the couch.
I handed Maxine the TV remote and headed upstairs. Pausing atop the steps, I eavesdropped on Beverley and Nana playing Old Maid. On any other day, I would have tried to get in on a game, but not today. Not after Beverley’s outburst. Not with all I still had to do.
I considered telling Nana about Eris showing up when she was done with Beverley. But it wouldn’t be that simple. I couldn’t just drop the bombshell and walk away. She’d want to talk. Nana had her own guilt trip about the way she’d raised me.
I was already emotionally drained and still had to review the spell for tomorrow. Plus, Johnny had had a hell of a day himself. He’d be home soon. He’d need me, too.
Eris hadn’t been part of Nana’s life or mine for a long time. Announcing her sudden reentry … and exit … could wait.
I got my Book of Shadows out, took the copy of the Trivium Codex from Nana’s room, and sat down to study.
When Johnny finally arrived home, he snuggled in beside me, naked, spooning his warm, warm self right against me. His arm snaked around my waist. I ran my nails lightly up and down his forearm and asked, “How’d it go?”
“The families of Robert Connor and Brian Kimball are grieving and in disbelief,” he said.
It seemed important to him to say their names, just as it had been important for me to know Ross’s name. “Did you know either of them?”
“No.” His whisper was full of regret. “But now I know about them. Robert was laid off when his factory job was outsourced and his wife, Donna, is waitressing at a Bob Evans out in Beachwood. He’d been jobless for months and she said he thought if he got in good with me, he might be able to work as part of my security. She didn’t want him to. She thought it was too dangerous.” He squeezed me. “She was right.” He sighed into my hair. “They had two sons before he contracted the virus. They’re twelve and fourteen now. Bright kids. He volunteered in order to provide for them, and now they don’t have him anymore.”
Recognizing the guilt in his voice all too well, I rolled to face him.
“It’s hard for them with no body.” The superheated beam had left nothing of those it claimed. “Seeing him, his corpse, that would make it more real.”
“Not just for the families.”
“Yeah. I’m having a hard time, too, Red.”
He was silent while I stroked his cheek.
“You know what it’s like,” he whispered. “The Eldrenne gave her life for yours.” His fingers fidgeted with the bottom of the tank top I’d worn to bed. “In my mind, I can understand that Robert and Brian did the same, they gave their lives for a greater good, but …”
He didn’t finish, so I did. “But your heart has a hard time accepting that you’re the instrument of that greater good.”
“Exactly,” he whispered. He grasped a lock of my hair and tickled under my chin with the tips.
I pushed myself against him under the covers, slid my knee up to his hip.
He shifted gears but not in the way I expected. He asked, “Are you all set for the ritual?”
“I made a list of the supplies I need to gather up tomorrow morning, but I have everything so it’ll be quick.” My hands wandered. My lips found his. My tongue tasted an oaky sweet flavor. “Todd get the Laphroaig out again?”
“When it was all over, Todd, Kirk, and I toasted our fallen comrades privately. Said some words to the crescent moon.”
He took my roving hands in his and said, “Tell me about your day.”
Is he seriously not in the mood? “Are you drunk?”
“No.”
“You realize you just asked me how my day was and stopped my hands from fondling you?”
“I’m a regular dreamboat, ain’t I? Being the sensitive guy interested in your monotonous day and all that.”
“Yeah, because ‘monotonous’ is certainly the one word I’d use to describe my days lately.”
The sarcasm made us both feel better. So I tried another dose of it. “What’d that Laphroaig do to you?”