Wicked Circle

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

I woke up. My body still hurt, but there was light on my face.

Johnny’s here.

I blinked until things came into focus. Well, not things, but thing: the small black candle about two feet away from my head. It was dripping dark wax into the powdery white salt. The little flame was reassuring. It meant that someone—

“You’re awake.”

I recognized that voice. It wasn’t Johnny. Oh hell.

With his knees bent up and his arms clasped around them and the long sleeves of his black robe covering him, Creepy had completely blended into the background, which seemed to be iron. The meager illumination didn’t stretch very far.

It seemed my call through the sorsanimus had worked and been answered, by Menessos anyway. I lifted my head; it wasn’t easy with the crick presently in my neck. “Untie me.”

“I cannot.”

“What? Menessos sent you to—”

“Menessos did not send me this time.”

Exhaling slowly, I let my head rest against the salt again. This is where Menessos’s nondisclosure deal starts biting me in the ass. I wasn’t entirely certain I wanted to know the answer but asked anyway, “Then why are you here?”

He pitched forward onto his knees. The salt—there had to be tons of it here—shifted as he disturbed it. He repositioned the candle so it was a foot or so away from the crown of my head. Then Creepy lay down in front of me, mimicking my pose exactly. “My eyes are addicted to your beauty.” He reached for my cheek. “And my hands yearn—”

“You have to untie me.” I didn’t have time for this, and I certainly didn’t want to know more about his yearnings.

His touch trailed to my neck. “I don’t have to do anything,” he whispered. “I don’t even have to be here. . . .” His fingertips glided so softly over my shoulder.

Every nerve was hypersensitive. Pain jolted through me. I gasped and tensed and shouted, “Don’t!” That only made it worse. Tears welled in my eyes.

“Your flesh is heated and swollen, so tender.”

“My shoulder’s out of socket,” I said through clenched teeth. “Don’t touch me.”

The next thing I knew he was wiping my tears. Then, as if sampling the most decadent confection, he licked his fingers. “I cannot bear to see you in such pain.”

“Then help me,” I pleaded. Even Creepy’s help would suffice.

With purpose, he sat up. I was grateful for his change of heart—until he grabbed my shoulder. I tried to scream no or don’t or stop or any other cease-type command, but as he shoved the bone into place what left my mouth was a wordless and primal expression of agony.

The sharp intensity disappeared, but an awful ache remained as I tried to relearn how to breathe.

“There.” Creepy’s fingertips brushed my cheek and he lay down again. “That’s better, is it not?”

When I could speak, I said, “Please untie me.”

“I told you I cannot.”

“If you can repair a screen door, you can make a rope untie itself.”

“Yes. I am capable of that.”

“Then what are you waiting for? Help me!”

“It is not that simple, Persephone.”

My stomach gave a little heave as I recalled Menessos saying our new ally had taught him to think through the pain. My knee-jerk reaction was to not make any deals with this man, but I was not in a position to negotiate. “Explain,” I growled.

“Liyliy needs you to do something.”

Fuck her. Luckily, before the thought became words that escaped my lips, I decided expressing negatives to the one person—well, whatever Creepy was—who might get me out of all this was a bad idea. “What would that be?”

“She will tell you when she rises at sundown. That is why I cannot untie you. If I did, then you would not be here when night falls. Tied up, you will stay and you will be motivated to do what she asks of you.”

“What do you care if I do what she wants me to?”

“I told you I could help you more than you know.” He drew very close to me, almost nose to nose, and caressed my cheek. “You need to know that you can do this.” His fingertips slid to the back of my neck and held me as he kissed my forehead. When his warm lips abandoned my skin, he whispered, “Malek tsalmaveth. Basilissa nekros.” He released me and blew out the candle.

I blinked in the sudden darkness, waiting for his touch to resume, waiting for him to do something I’d protest. He did nothing. “Hey,” I said.

Nothing.

“Hey!”

He was gone.