Vicious Circle

Chapter 12

I was on watch with Theo.

The regular creak of Nana’s rocker told me she was still quilting. Celia and Johnny were in town getting groceries. Erik was sleeping on the third floor—I could hear his regular snores faintly through the ceiling.

The wæres had the IV bag—changing down pat; I wouldn’t have to do it on my watch. I checked Theo’s toes. They were cold, and the greenish color now had some yellow to it. Still swollen.

She was damn lucky to be alive at all. And very unlucky to be my friend.

I washed her face and cleaned dried blood from between her fingers and from the cuticles of her nails. The professional shaping and painting of them had been ruined in tearing her dashboard apart.

Guilt overwhelming me, I sat in the window seat, as far from Theo as I could be while still being in the room. I drew a small circle around me in the air and meditated. Cleansing my chakras, as Nana had suggested, would have entailed energy work, and that wasn’t safe around Theo. A full transformation would cure her and save her life, but a partial transformation would doom her irreparably. So I kept this meditation to a mental exercise and refrained from sticking my toes in the stream. I didn’t need to wash the negative energy away immediately; I could do that later. Besides, my guilt over Theo’s condition was tightly wound up in that energy, as it should be. I deserved to bear that guilt.

“Let it go.” Amenemhab padded to the water’s edge, a few yards upstream, and began to drink. After a moment, his ears pricked forward and his head came up. Water dripped from his muzzle. His attention focused across the stream.

The buckskin mustang galloped through the woodland. Sunbeams shining through the branches flashed on her hide, making the dun glow golden. Her thick black mane and tail flounced, accentuating her graceful and majestic strides—fast but unhurried, or at least not urgent. As evidenced by every flexion of her sinewy limbs and sleek form, she ran for the joy of running.

“Who is she?” I asked.

Amenemhab stared after her so long I wasn’t sure he’d heard me. Then he said, “She is the One who called to you. Who comforted you in the cornfield.”

“The Goddess? Is a horse? In my meditation?”

“She can be anything, anywhere. Today, in this hour, She is here and She has taken the form of a horse. Today She feels the current of energy and moves with it, perhaps stirs it and guides it along the proper paths as She guides us all.”

“I must have lost my way, then.”

The jackal cocked his head at me. “Why do you say this?”

“I don’t feel like I’m treading a path, but a rocky mountainside that isn’t supposed to be traveled. I have taken steps away from the Rede, away from Her guidance. And away from common sense. That’s why She was there,” I pointed, “and not here.”

“Just because you cannot see the path beneath your feet does not mean it isn’t there. It is simply a road less traveled, as it were.”

“Ah. A bumpy road designed to tame the more stubborn, no doubt.”

“Or a path meant to show the more resilient that they are capable of more than the average task.” When I didn’t respond, he continued: “She relishes what She can do and takes the form that accomplishes Her task with the most efficient grace. Shouldn’t all living things relish what they are, what they can do and be and create? Wouldn’t happiness and peace be attained if everyone did?”

“Of course.”

“Then why do you try to limit what She can call you to do?”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

Knowing what he was getting at, I disagreed emphatically. “She wouldn’t want me to be an assassin. To break the Rede.”

“Those who choose not to abide by the laws of the Rede, those who subscribe to no laws that would censure them, will not be stopped by any laws. Justice may come in the afterlife, but sometimes they need to be stopped in their present life, stopped before they interfere with greater plans.”

I hoped that didn’t mean the Goddess wanted Vivian on the Elders Council. “You’re saying She would want me to be a killer?”

“Is that so inconceivable?”

I smirked. “So I’m the lucky one who gets to fuck up my karma, right?”

The jackal opened his mouth in what had to be a smile. “Perhaps you have it backwards. Perhaps this charge is the opportunity to exculpate trespasses in the past.”

“Karma doesn’t work that way.”

“Doesn’t it?”

This was like braiding thorny branches; every twist had painful possibilities.

“She wasn’t here as a brilliantly white unicorn or a midnight mare,” he said. “She showed Herself to you in the colors of mild tarnish, in the wilder form of a mustang.”

The stream trickled by, the only sound between us for many minutes. I thought Amenemhab would lope off and leave me with that thought, but he didn’t. He sat and watched the play of light on the water, patiently waiting for me to figure it out. Fine.

This was bigger than me, my easily bruised ego, or my karmic future. Still, I did not have to like any of it. And the weight on my shoulders felt impossibly burdensome. How could I be that important? I never stood out anywhere else in my life; I wasn’t ready to think there was any place that I should. So I said the words he probably knew were coming: “I don’t want to be a killer.”

“You’ve already accepted the money. Spent some.”

“I can pay it back.”

“Or you can do the job.”

“A vampire is too much for me.”

“Are you afraid?”

“No.” I paused. “Yes.”

“Fear isn’t weakness, you know.”

I looked at him sharply.

“Giving in to fear is. But then you are not likely to give in to it, because you are not alone.”

Was he dropping notes to Celia? “Neither is my intended target.” The Reverend Kline had said his brother worked for another vampire. I made a face; last year the vampires had come out with another public relations campaign, trying to further soften their image. They thought changing all the “master vampires” into “executive vampires” made them seem less like evil slavers and more like reasonable businessmen.

“You’re right; Goliath is not alone. But you know someone breaking the Rede who is very alone.”

“Vivian.” Of course. “Will she hurt Beverley more to get at me?”

“Do not worry about this. The child is not leverage in her eyes, but a burden she wants to be rid of.”

I frowned at him. “Why would Lorrie have wanted her as Beverley’s guardian anyway?”

“Financially, Lorrie struggled; Vivian doesn’t. What mother doesn’t want to see her child have everything she could want?”

“But it isn’t working out that way!”

“No. Lorrie saw a false side of the high priestess.”

“I’m beginning to think my first meeting with her was the same.” She’d been grumpy with me even then, but I’d given her several reasons. “What’s up with her?”

“You should ponder that.”

“I mean, I get it that she’s using me to clear the path for her entrance to the Elders Council. I’m just a tool to her. And yeah, I hate being used, but achieving something good is worth swallowing my pride a little. Just…is this really ‘something good’?”

“You should ponder that,” Amenemhab insisted.

I gave him a wry look.

He lay down as if settling in for a long rest. “Ponder what you know; the answers to what you don’t know are there. It is an equation you must solve to see.”

Closing my eyes in the meditation, I thought back, reviewing our meeting. What did I know about Vivian? What could I see and add up? Being high priestess equaled knowledge of magic and energy as well as people-management skills. Overdone accessories equaled vanity, money, or just a penchant for diamonds. Neat office equaled neat freak at best and obsessive-compulsive disorder at worst. Spiffy wooden box equaled a carrying case for some cool magical thing. Too much cash for a coffee-shop owner equaled, well, there’s money again. I’d guessed the box held something to do with the business, but I didn’t think she had a goose in it laying golden eggs. What if its contents had nothing to do with the business and everything to do with her?

She was younger than I thought and had been offended at me expecting her to be older. That, as well as her vanity over accessories and perfect makeup, suggested the box could be holding a glamour spell. Perhaps she had charmed, literally, the wings off a fairy. Maybe the WEC induction was as much about vanity to her as everything else. Still, all that money came from somewhere, and fairies weren’t known for their cash supplies. Vampires, however, were notorious for the liquidity of their assets, no pun intended. Wait—

If Vivian was connected to a vampire—some people call it “marked,” but I always say “stained” because it denotes shame, and a vampire’s mark is worse than being forced to wear a scarlet letter—it would make her age more slowly, simply due to supernatural residual effects. I said, “She’s stained by a vampire.”

Amenemhab bowed his head. “See? Equation solved.”

“Solved? Nothing’s solved! This whole thing makes no sense anymore. Wait—”

The jackal grinned.

“She can’t sit on the Council if she bears a stain.”

“And how would she get rid of it?” he asked.

“Kill the vampire who gave it to her…” My eyes went to slits.

“But?”

“But she can’t act against him herself because, as I understand it, the bonds inherent in the binding stain create a kind of compulsive protectiveness and devotion between all those linked. But again, if I’m right, Goliath’s death would hurt her. His pain and grief would seep down to her, maybe even kill her. Why would she do that to herself?”

“I doubt a roundabout suicide is her motive. It’s simply an inherent risk—and one she’s ready to accept, so she’s likely prepared to counter it by some means.”

“She’s getting me to do the dirty work she can’t do, so she can have a shot at being an ‘Elder.’” I was seriously pissed. “I’m just a small part of her plan.”

He gestured with his head in the direction the mustang had gone. “But you’re a big part of Her plan.” He winked. “She may have been there and not here”—he pawed the ground—“but a long time ago, Persephone, in a field of corn, She chose you. You. Take heart, for today, in the midst of your turmoil, She showed Herself to remind you that She is nearby.”

Leaving the meditation, I took up my protective circle, stretched and checked on Theo. Then I returned to the window seat and stared out the window.

Vivian was using me. I knew that. But she was using me more than she wanted me to realize. I had agreed to be used, I thought, in order to protect Beverley and, I had to admit, attain vengeance for Lorrie’s murder. Did Vivian’s further use of me make a difference? Now that Theo had been harmed, did I have more reason to kill? But if I hadn’t agreed to do harm myself, would Theo have been hurt?

I thought of the mustang. Did She have a hand in all this? Was the totem correct? Was I somehow meant to be Her tool?

Whatever I had originally thought, whatever my motivations or Vivian’s, it was time to accept what either my own human foolishness had gotten me into or what the Fates had inexorably willed: I had a vampire to assassinate.

Deep breath. That thought made my shoulders heavy.

My ears detected a knocking sound and I stilled, listening. It didn’t repeat, so I figured it must be something banging around in the dryer. Who knew what kinds of sounds Johnny’s clothes made, with all the studs and zippers and chains. I’d seen him stuffing things into separate mesh laundry bags. It was surreal seeing him washing clothes. At my house.

Then the knocking came again. A quiet, meek knocking. It stopped. But I knew I wasn’t hearing things this time. Going out in the hall, I peered down the stairs. A shadow darkened the window of my front door. A short shadow.

I hurried down and opened the door. Beverley stood there with her face in her hands, her dark hair in crooked ponytails, and her shoulders jerking rapidly in sobs. “Beverley!” I exclaimed, unlocking the screen.

Her face was splotched with pink; her usually bright blue eyes were swollen from crying. “She left me,” she said, shaking all over. “She drove here. Screamed at me all the way. Told me to get out.” She pointed at the driveway, where a box sat behind my Avalon, the flaps shuddering in the breeze.

I had the greatest urge to hunt Vivian Diamond down and slap her around. I guess it showed on my face; Beverley started sobbing again. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” she cried.

“Honey!” I went down on my knees and touched her arms. She had always been a spindly kid, but she looked waiflike just now. “I’m not angry with you. I’m angry with how Vivian’s treated you. Come inside.”

Her expression was unsure. “My stuff.”

“We’ll get it in a minute.”

“Somebody’ll steal it. I won’t have anything and I got the—”

“There’s nobody out here. For miles,” I said gently. “But I’ll get it. Okay?” It was important to her.

She waited on the porch until I came back with the box. She held the door open for me as I went in. “Thanks. I’ll set this over here for now.” I placed it at the end of the couch. “How about you and I have some milk and cookies?” I asked, hoping Nana hadn’t eaten all of Johnny’s cookies.

We sat at the table with glasses of milk and a few of Johnny’s white chocolate macadamia nut cookies. Beverley didn’t touch hers. She seemed to be staring at a spot on the table between the cookies. So I picked up a cookie, broke it in half, dunked it in my glass, and held it there for a few seconds. I “mmmm”-ed when I ate it; Beverley glanced my way. I dunked the rest of that half. “Don’t you dunk your cookies anymore?”

She shook her head “no” in timid motions.

“Want me to warm them a little in the microwave?” Same response. “Beverley.”

“You don’t have to pretend like you want me here.” She spoke with such weariness and resigned sadness that I could have cried. “Vivian tried to be nice at first too. But I know you don’t want me either. Nobody wants me. Only my mom….”

“Beverley,” I said firmly. Reaching across the table, I took her hand. “That’s not true. I do want you here. I’ve missed watching movies with you. Eating popcorn.” Tears rolled out of her eyes, but she didn’t say anything. “But I want you to want to be here, too, and I should warn you: things are kind of crazy here right now.” I stood.

Since Vivian had left her here, I’d guess that’d be considered abandonment. That might help if this got nasty legal-wise…

What was I thinking? I was going to kill a vampire, and I was worrying about the legal ramifications of custody? I rubbed my brow. I was becoming paradox incarnate.

“Since you were last here, my grandmother has moved in with me. She’s got the room you usually slept in, but I’ll show you the other room, where you can stay. Okay?” She needed to sleep, and to wake up feeling safe and wanted.

“What did you mean, it’s crazy here?” She held my hand tight as I led her up the stairs. “I’ve always liked it here. It’s quiet, and you have such pretty paintings.”

“Well, a friend got hurt really bad. You remember Theo? One of your mom’s…friends? She needed a place to stay. A few other friends are staying here to help look after her. She’s in my room, and we have to go past there to get to the other room. She has monitors and stuff hooked up to her—don’t let it alarm you.”

As I expected, Beverley stopped in front of my open door. “What happened to her?”

“She had a car accident. You remember Celia and Johnny and Erik, right? They are helping out with taking care of her until she gets better. Erik’s upstairs sleeping because he gets the late shift. The other two went into town to get some groceries, but they’ll be back later.” If I had a chance, I’d call Johnny’s cell phone and tell him to pick up some kid stuff—like cartoon-character cereals or something.

“Do you always take care of people?”

The thread of hope in her voice made me want to hug her tight and tell her it would all be okay. But Nana had done that to me, and things still weren’t okay. “I do the best I can.”

I led her across the hall to the third bedroom. There were a few stacked boxes of my things, a laundry basket, and a twin-size air mattress on the floor along one wall. “I’ve been staying in here, since Theo’s in my room. Would you mind sharing the room with me for now?” Hands on hips, I looked the room over. “Once Theo’s better, we could make it into your room and paint it and decorate it however you want.”

“Do you really want me to stay with you?”

“Yes, of course. If you don’t mind staying with me, that is. For now, we’ll get another mattress and put it on that side for you.” I smiled. “It isn’t much, I know. But it’ll get better.”

“I like it.” She peered out the window.

“Good. I’ll go get your box.”

In the kitchen, I dialed Johnny’s cell phone.

“’Lo, Red.”

“Hey. Still shopping?”

“At the checkout now.”

I heard Celia’s voice ask, “Who’s Red?”

He whispered, “Persephone is.”

“Her hair’s not red,” Celia protested.

“You two save it for later. This is important. Get out of line—”

“I’m always out of line,” he laughed.

“I need you to get some other things.”

“Like what?” I heard him whisper to Celia, “No, don’t unload the cart yet. Red needs something.”

“Some kind of fun kid cereal,” I said.

“I already got Lucky Charms. That okay?”

I should have known. “Only if you can share them.”

“Right. Another box of Lucky Charms.”

“And get another of those air mattresses, and some sheets for it. Like some soft pink flannel ones.” Nana had brought her stock of quilts and was constantly making more, so we didn’t need blankets. “And get cookies too. Oreos. Some microwave popcorn.” I knew Beverley liked those snacks.

“Ooooo. And I had you pegged for satin sheets and champagne and strawberries, but I didn’t think our big night would come so soon. You know, Oreo crumbs are gonna show big-time on pink.”

“They’re not for…us.” I was so embarrassed and frustrated, I could hardly get the words out.

“Okay, okay. I’m wiping the image of you in pink flannel sheets and covered in Oreo crumbs from my mind.”

Blinking as if that would remove the stunned roadblock on the tracks of my train of thought, I managed to awkwardly reply, “You gotta stop, Johnny. You said you’d be good.”

“While I was there. But I’m not there. I’m here,” he declared proudly, raising his voice like a superhero. “At the superstore!”

I could imagine all the leery patrons staring at the crazy man now. “Right.” Celia’s laughter drifted through the phone too.

“Who’s moving in now?” he asked, more seriously.

“I’ll explain when you get here. Don’t forget: air mattress and sheets, popcorn, and cookies.”

“How about I make cookies? I can make ’em way better than Oreos.”

“I know. But my new guest would prefer Oreos. Trust me.”

“Asking for my trust. This is getting better all the time, Red. Buh-bye.”

I hesitated. “Bye.” It was an awkward closing, and I stared at the receiver before hanging it up. I took the box from the living room and started up the stairs with it. Beverley sat halfway up; she startled me. “I didn’t see you there.”

“Thank you.”

Shifting the box to my hip, I said, “Huh?”

“For asking them to get things for me.”

“Pink is okay, right?”

“Yeah.”

“I haven’t been a…a young woman”—I didn’t want to say “little girl”—“in a long time, and I’m sure things are different now. I’ll get up to speed if you give me a little time. I promise.”

Feeling totally lame, I put her box in the room. I didn’t even have a dresser for her to use. I couldn’t say, “Well, I’ll leave you to settle in,” because it was a box and the floor. There was no “settling” to it. I wondered if we could get her things from the apartment she and her mother had shared or if there was some police procedure to go through. Vivian wouldn’t have bothered to take her there, I was sure. Ms. Diamond seemed content to let this girl suffer and live out of a box. It hurt my heart. “They won’t be back for an hour or so. If you want to rest, you can use my bed.” It was all I had to offer.

“Okay.”

“I’ve got to check on Theo, but, um…I just wanted to say that whenever you want to talk—if you want to talk to me—about, well, about things…that’ll be okay. Or not. You don’t have to. I thought I should make sure you knew that.” I bit my lip, knowing I sounded so uncool and nervous.

I left.

Theo’s monitors remained steady; her fluid bag was still more than half full. Good for a while. I stepped back to peek into the spare bedroom. Beverley had moved her box right beside my stack of boxes. She was curled up on my bed with one of Lorrie’s sweaters, on a stuffed cat with its arms around her neck as if it were hugging her. She looked up at me. “If you need me,” I said, “I’ll be in the kitchen for a few minutes. Remember, it’s a big, old house. With creaky floors. I figured I should let you know where I’ll be.” A quick, apologetic smile flashed across my face.

Beverley put her nose down to the sweater, breathing deeply of the scent of someone who could never again comfort her. Someone who should never have been taken away.