Johnny’s lips were soft, but he hadn’t shaved this morning. The stubble was rough on my skin in a good way. My fingers trailed over his cheeks. When the kiss ended, he said, “I am your protector. Where you go, I go.”
“You’d follow me to Menessos’s court?”
“I’d follow you into hell, Persephone.”
My thoughts ran to Nana’s Tarot reading he’d mentioned. Hermes was the Magician on the last card, the final outcome. The Magician was an inner guide that sometimes directs one to perilous and wearisome places, but only to point out the potential one has.
“Havens probably have rules like covens and dens do. No matter what, we’ll find a way for you to be there. My acceptance of the title will be subject to your acceptance there, too.” In one version of the mythology, it was Hermes who rescued Persephone from the underworld where she was the prisoner of Hades. Maybe Johnny would be the one to get me out.
“Actually,” came Menessos’s voice from the hallway. “The Erus Veneficus is allowed a pet.”
CHAPTER SIX
“How the hell—” Johnny sputtered. “Didn’t that old witch tuck you in before she left?”
“As a matter of fact”—Menessos gave him a sly smile—“she did not.”
“The sun’s up!”
“But behind those thick rain clouds.” Menessos wiped at his wet shoulders. As if on cue, lightning cracked like a whip and a boom of thunder echoed. The rain responded: the light sprinkle became a downpour.
“Fucking great,” Johnny muttered.
He must have thought Menessos was making a display of his power. And boyfriends generally didn’t like other guys showing off in front of their girls. Yup. I used the B-word.
“I will have my people make the announcement immediately.” Menessos ran a hand over his rain-damp hair; the waves had tightened into curls. “I’ll see to it they commence preparations immediately. May I use your phone? The battery seems to have died on my cell phone.”
“In the kitchen.” I pointed. He walked down the hall.
Johnny turned his back to the painting over the fireplace and crossed his arms.
“I won’t let him reduce you to a pet,” I said.
“There has to be a way around this. Living with him can’t be the only solution.” His jaw was set. “The waere aren’t a part of this at all. You’d be safer with them, a neutral party. Besides, they owe you. You’ve kenneled anyone who ever needed it.”
“Opening my cellar door to protect people on the outside isn’t the same as asking the waere to shield me from the fey.”
“She’s right, Johnny,” Nana said. She must have vacated the kitchen when the vampire entered. “Waerewolves have no investment in this. Staying out of it costs them nothing, while aiding her might cost them a great deal.”
Johnny rolled his shoulders and let his arms straighten until his stance held less tension, but I saw it for what it was: a pose. “I could declare myself the Domn Lup.”
It was not a suggestion he made carelessly, so I considered it. But my heart knew it wasn’t the answer. “That would still only end with forcing them into a situation that would cost them.” Before anything else interrupted my telling him what he needed to be told, I moved toward the stairs. “Come on. Help me pack.”
My bed was still made from yesterday. The box the costume had arrived in still lay open on it. With a light shove, I pushed the box onto the pillows. I dug my suitcase from the closet and plopped it onto the bed, unzipping it open. The underwear from the dresser would go in first. Mustn’t forget clean undies.
Johnny shut the bedroom door behind him. “You’re really going to pack up and move in with the vamp, just like that?”
“You packed up to avoid having to drive Nana’s LeSabre.”
“Touché. But guess what I took the kid to the bus stop in?”
I tossed cotton panties into the suitcase and strolled up to Johnny. “Thank you for that.” I curled one finger into the belt loop of his pants. “Let’s be clear: moving ‘in with the vampire’ and ‘into the vampire’s haven’ aren’t the same things. And, it’s temporary.” I tugged gently on the belt loop. “You are coming, right?”
“Nope.”
I went wide-eyed.
“I mean, what you’re fondling and tugging on is only my belt loop and that’s not nearly sensitive enough to make me—”
“Johnny. You know what I meant.”
He grinned. “Of course I’m coming with you.”
To continue the double entendres, I added, “I don’t mind coming first.”
“Oooo, nice one.”
“Score,” I said. “One to one.”
He pretended to chalk our points onto an air scoreboard. “Let the innuendo wars begin.”
“Bring it on.”
His arms encircled me and he whispered in my ear, “I’ll always put your needs first.”
I would’ve relished his embrace, but— “Hey” I said, shying out of the hug while letting my hands linger at his waist, “I need to tell you something. I’ve been neglecting telling you because the fewer people who know, the better. This is the first time I’ve had a chance to tell you. I can trust you to keep a secret, right?”
He straightened defensively. “Is there any reason to think you can’t?”
“You did steal and replace a certain magic stake, a decision that led to Sam’s death and Nana and Beverley’s abduction.”
Duly reprimanded, he relaxed his posture again. “It seemed like the right thing to do and for the right reason, Red. I had nothing to do with what Sam chose to do.”
It was a valid point. “No matter what, you can’t reveal this. Ever. Even if it seems like the right thing to do.”
“Okay.”
“Swear it.”
Johnny snorted. “I haven’t heard it yet.”
“Swear it.”
“Fine. I swear I won’t ever reveal the secret you’re about to tell me. Unless it has something to do with Jimmy Hoffa’s disappearance, Jim Morrison’s death, or events on the infamous grassy knoll.”
That was probably as good an oath as I’d ever get. “Do you remember when I told you that I’d figured out my troublesome issue with the stain?”
“Yup. You told me not to ‘let any stab of jealousy wound me.’” He semisang the words I’d used. I poked him in the ribs. “What? I used it in some lyrics.”
I should have known. I squeezed his waist with my fingers. He was so solid and firm muscled. I regretted Menessos’s interrupting us last night. “When I took Vivian’s stake into my hands . . .” I considered telling him the whole of it, but I’d put off these words too long already. Short version. “I flipped the binding. I didn’t know it at first, but it’s become very clear. Menessos isn’t my master. I’m his.”
Johnny blinked at me as that sank in. “You mean—”
“Yeah,” I said when he didn’t go on. “I’m not stained, so I’m not going to be manipulated by him. He’s hexed. I have power over him.”
Johnny launched into laughter. “Then there’s no need for you to become that tiara-wearing heiress-thing.”
“E-R-U-S. Air-oose. And, actually, there is. We have to keep everyone else thinking that he’s the master.”
“Why?”
“The fairies will want to hold him responsible for my actions anyway. If he’s the master, he’s responsible for my actions. It serves the purpose. And it’s my charge to keep things in balance, including the vampire balance. He’s perceived as a very powerful master. If he’s outmastered . . . you see all the trouble that would follow?”
“Sure, but why should we care if his cronies know you’re even more powerful than he is? That benefits you.”
“Lower vampires with a desire to move up might challenge him. It could cause an unending parade of challenges—”
“So?”
“So that wouldn’t help the balance.”
“Pendulum’s gotta swing, Red. Things may be better when the smoke of charred vamp bodies clears.”
I ignored the jibe. “Still, I’m his master, Johnny. I’m responsible for his safety, like I am for Beverley’s.”