Persephone Alcmedi 00 - Wicked Circle

man.’ ”
    Gregor reached toward the woman’s fingers. “You have to release him, ma’am.”
    “Wait,” Johnny said, his free hand slapping onto Gregor’s chest.
    “What does an old woman know?” Gregor whispered.
    She fixed Gregor with an unwavering stare. “Enough to bring me over five hundred miles,” she said. “On a bus.”

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

    K urt Miller had followed when Toni Brown had hailed a cab from the bus station. As a SSTIX agent, he’d been made aware of some hubbub about the wære’s Domn Lup, but as the regional agent for upstate New York, it had been of only peripheral interest to him. Listening to a local radio station, he learned a major announcement by the wæres was being made at the Cleveland Trust Bank. When the cab dropped Toni off in front of an impressive building with columns, he read Cleveland Trust Bank along the top. Why does this matter to you, Toni? Is he supposed to be here?
    Kurt drove slowly and saw her leave the cab and head inside; he also glimpsed security using metal-detecting wands to check the people going in. He found parking down the block on the opposite side of the street, then jogged back. It bothered him to leave his gun in the car, but he’d not get through security with a weapon.
    As he waited for his inspection at the checkpoint, he scrutinized the security staff. None of them fit the description of the person he suspected she was looking for. He also worried that Toni might see him as he waited or as he entered. It was a risk he couldn’t dodge.
    Inside, he searched for a few moments before finding her. The place was thick with media people, and Toni was shorter than most. Her silver-blond hair—too silver for her age—helped him locate her in the area to the side of the podium, right along the velvet ropes. It was not a prime press spot, but it was obviously the entry and exit for those making the announcements here today.
    He had to give her credit; Antonia Brown was many things, but stupid wasn’t one of them. Positioning himself in the crowd about ten feet behind her and away from the podium, he was confident she wouldn’t catch a glimpse of him.
    Once the Domn Lup was brought out, however, Kurt was stunned. Tall, lanky, with black wavy hair and a cleft chin—this had to be Elena Hampton’s son, John. He’s the Domn Lup. Change at will? That explains everything. God, tattoos on his eyelids? That had to hurt like a sonofabitch.
    After the announcement was made and the pretty speech given, this “Johnny Newman” allowed the reporters to ask questions.
    Detective Miller considered what plan Toni might have. She had positioned herself where the Domn Lup would see her, but he hadn’t recognized her on his way out. Then the final question was asked and he claimed he had no memory before eight years ago.
    If that’s true, he won’t know you at all, Toni.
    Kurt worried that if she acted in some rash and desperate manner, the security here would respond. They couldn’t hurt her in public, but Kurt didn’t trust wærewolves, even when they were being honest about what they were.
    When John Newman left the stage, Kurt was relieved the security started to change places with John as they neared Toni’s spot.
    Then Toni very nearly leapt forward as she grabbed at the Domn Lup. There were gasps and flashes, and the noise level of the media side rose as they compressed the area, straining for pictures and trying to hear.
    In the shuffle, Kurt surged toward Toni. He couldn’t let anything happen to one of his wife’s best friends. He was right behind her when he heard her say, “. . . on a bus.”
    It seemed the whole room stilled, like someone had stopped time. Then John Newman said, “Let her through. Bring her with us.”
    The brawny security man unhooked the velvet rope and let Toni through, his glare enough to keep anyone else from trying to pass through. He snapped the cordon back in place and followed John Newman out.
    Bring her with us. Bring her with us?
    Kurt had to get to the parking garage now .

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

    T hree limos pulled into the parking lot of the Pilgrim Congregational Church. It was well out of downtown in Tremont, and was the location the wæres often used for meetings they wanted off-site of the den, especially if they wanted to avoid vamps.
    Gregor had insisted the old woman not ride in the same vehicle as Johnny. He’d put her into the first car and ridden with her. When Gregor got out, Johnny, who was