Gregor’s smooth. He’d just gotten his way while acquiescing to Johnny’s demands, reminding everyone here that the Zvonul had all the clout, and hinting that the men should vote to wait so that their leader could avoid any discredit.
Gregor called out, “If you vote to delay this spell until the Rege has gone, let it be known by raising your right arm.”
Slowly, every arm rose.
“And you, witch, do you agree to wait, or do you protest this notion?”
I dropped my crossed arms and stepped into the edge of the illuminated area. “I will reward these men whenever it pleases their Domn Lup and them.”
“Persephone?”
It was one of the men with Gregor who called my name, the not-brawny one with a briefcase. He was at the far end of the table, and he stood so the wære-bulk between him and Gregor no longer blocked his view of me.
“Chris? Christopher LaCroix?”
“Yeah.” He smiled, then, with everyone staring at us, the moment soured into awkwardness. “Yeah,” he repeated, quieter, as if he wished he’d kept his mouth shut.
Chris was the younger brother of the one serious boyfriend I’d ever had, my college sweetheart, Michael La-Croix. Chris had been inadvertently turned wærewolf by a girlfriend he was trying to kennel. Word got around and Chris was threatened on campus by some wære-hating jocks. It led to a wære coalition forming and even some non-wære’s like me joined. Michael, who waffled between being a private investigator, a personal trainer, and a kung-fu master (his nickname then was Pi-fu), instructed a training series for self-defense. They had access to one of the campus’s smaller gymnasiums at a certain time every week. He taught wære’s methods that took their superior strength into consideration and kept them from hurting mere humans, even if those mere humans were instigating an attack.
The demand for this training had been more than any of them had expected. When Michael opened a pay-for-training center in a nearby town—a business venture he’d not even hinted about to me—I’d told him it bothered me that he would do this behind my back. I just wanted to be kept in the loop. He’d said he didn’t have to “clear” anything with me and he dumped me. I hadn’t seen either of them since. Until now.
Breaking the awkward silence, Chris offered a polite “How’ve you been?”
“Good. You?”
Gregor cut in. “There’s obviously no further need for you to be here, witch,” he said pointedly to me. “Don’t let us keep you any longer.”
Not really passive-aggressive, just aggressive.
Johnny gestured to Kirk. “See the witch to the University Inn.”
At that, I knew three things for certain. One, he wasn’t going to let on about our relationship more than necessary to these Omori; two, he wasn’t coming home with me; and three, it was highly unlikely that I’d have another chance to perform this spell before the Rege arrived. Could Johnny repeat another man-to-wolf transformation without what he would have gained from the spell?
Maxine said, begrudgingly, that the pierogies were fabulous. When she asked how I was done so quickly, I told her some unforeseen other pack business sprang up and we’d rescheduled. If she was suspicious that there was more to it than that, she didn’t show it outwardly. I didn’t want to talk about it and she was keen enough not to need it spelled out for her.
In the car, I switched the radio to WMMS. I was hoping to crank up some rock ’n’ roll, but the morning show’s aftermath crew was blathering on. So I found WKDD out of Akron and gave the sound system a workout.
My thoughts ran to Johnny. And worry.
His second-in-command, Todd, resented him. Todd wanted to be dirija in the worst way, and while that would happen once Johnny was confirmed as the Domn Lup, in the meantime, Todd had to wait and he had to take orders from Johnny.
And then there was Cammi, who was a power-hungry bitch. She’d used her looks to work those men over, and fast. I hoped that the Omori’s threat held, that Johnny wouldn’t ever have to hear her speak to him again, but she was cunning. She’d use her feminine wiles to influence others. The threat she represented wasn’t gone.
He struggled at every step, and while I had no doubt he could handle it, the fact that he literally had to fight for his position saddened me. It was barbaric. Bottom line, I didn’t want Johnny to lose the man he was now in the process.
It occurred to me his problems weren’t unlike mine. The responsibilities of my role were changing me. Months ago I couldn’t have imagined going into a vampire haven, let alone having my own apartment inside one. I couldn’t have imagined feeding a vampire, much less being doubly bound to one.
And despite being the Lustrata, I still wanted to give Beverley a normal childhood. I could have given her that easily before all this Lustrata business began. I’m losing who I once was.
Through Beverley, I realized, I was anchored to that struggle, to the desire to keep a tight grasp on my sense of self, of the here and now, so I didn’t completely lose myself.
Maybe if I can give Johnny back his memories, there will be something in them that will anchor him.
I was more determined than ever to get his tattoos unlocked.
When we pulled in the driveway, the first thing I noticed was the power lines were strung along the poles, providing electric to the finished barns and Mountain’s mobile home, which had arrived. Nana’s prefab walls were going up.
Mountain gave me the update, remarking that the wiring and plumbing had been accomplished, and that the floor joists and subfloor were in.
“Any chance of getting that heated flooring for her?”
“I’ll certainly make every effort to get that for you.” With a nod, he beckoned me aside and I followed so we were out of Maxine’s earshot. “The men cut through your basement block wall and installed a small door that will lead to the crawl space under the addition. Far as they know its standard access for the plumbing; better from inside the house than in the block foundation. More weather tight and all. But,” he added with quiet grimness, “it will be a good hiding place for a vampire. If it ever becomes necessary. Only you and I will know.”
“Gotcha.”
He gave me a wink and headed back to supervise.
Doc Lincoln arrived just after dinner. The house was still full of the delicious smell of Nana’s lahanodolmathes she’d fixed for dinner. Greeks think the best cabbage is found after the first frost, and I guess the frosty mornings had inspired her to make the recipe: ground beef and rice with eggs, dill, and onion rolled up in cabbage leaves. Nana must have noticed that I was eating some meat. Topping it all was the avgolemono sauce—egg yolks, water, lemon juice, and corn starch—poured on right before they’re served. I asked Geoff if he’d like to have some.
He admitted it smelled wonderful, but said he’d already eaten and offered me another pill bottle full of that salve for Johnny’s stitches. “Sorry. Don’t need it. They’ve healed up and he took the stitches out already.”
“Good. That wære healing kicked in.” He dropped the bottle back into his bag. “The barns have lights now, yes?”
“Yes.” I told him about Thunderbird. “Maybe with some dog food you can coax him into trusting you. He needs some help, his eye is … icky.”
“Icky how?”
I described the yellow oozing pus, about the same shade as the avgolemono, but I didn’t mention that or, for the sake of my digestion, let myself dwell on it long.
“Yeah. That’s not good.”
“You’ll need the dog food, though. He let me touch him today because I’ve been feeding it to him.”
“You should go with him,” Nana said. “I’ll wash the dishes tonight.”