Persephone Alcmedi 00 - Wicked Circle

like so long ago. I’d wanted him to tell VEIN the truth so they would rally to his aid against the fairies, but he’d refused. He had been willing to die to keep that secret. And he had.
    I was not insensitive to the fact that he had given the most precious thing he’d had—his very life—to maintain his anonymity, or that losing it now would render his sacrifice pointless in hindsight.
    “You did the right thing, for the right reason,” I said. That mantra had bitten me in the ass a few times, but it was still, overall, a good policy.
    Menessos plucked at his pant leg. “If the world learns it has someone to blame, I will become the target of every extremist group with a grudge against vampires and every vengeful person who has ever suffered because of my children’s thirst.”
    “You’re not alone in the I-Dislike-My-Exposed-Destiny Category,” I snapped. “Everyone either knows or suspects I’m the Lustrata. They also seem to know more about it than I do, and have heavy expectations of me. Johnny’s not in such a different position either.”
    He stilled, but said nothing more.
    “How can that possibly scare you so much?” I asked.
    He laughed, but there was an offended note to it. “If VEIN learned my secret, they would seize me and demand explanations. It could derail everything. My attention must remain fixed upon this purpose. The only thing I fear is not being able to finish this , Persephone, with you and John. I fear the repercussions that would befall any two of us, should the other one falter or . . . be slain.”
    I couldn’t deny his devotion to this destiny of ours. “We must endure risks, but we all know the consequences of not following through get higher every day.”
    “Exactly,” he whispered. “I can’t risk not following through on what we must do because I’m distracted by the other.”
    “But you can’t leave!” I swallowed as if I could reclaim those revealing words. Hurriedly I added, “We’re all dealing with things happening that we didn’t want to happen. That’s part of the price we have to pay.” I stared at the steering wheel because I couldn’t meet his gaze after what I’d blurted. “I didn’t want Xerxadrea, Aquula, Ross, or Maxine to die. Not even Samson D. Kline. But they all did.”
    After the slightest hesitation, Menessos asked, “Do I not make your list of noble dead? I died for you, too.”
    He was right. And he repeated his dying every sunrise. It was my turn to shamefully examine the dark world beyond the car.
    “Does the fact that I sit here talking to you now diminish my sacrifice?”
    We were all surrendering things we didn’t want to forfeit, but I still felt like an ass. “It shouldn’t.”
    “But it does.”
    I whispered, “I didn’t have to grieve for you, Menessos.”
    He shivered when his name was spoken, and I wondered if he was experiencing something similar to what I felt when he said my name. “Menessos.” I said it slower, tasting the syllables on my tongue, on my lips.
    He arched his back, took a deep breath, held it for a second, then sighed it away. Panting, openmouthed, he looked directly at me, displaying a sexual hunger my body reacted to—places low in my abdomen tightened.
    Between the seats, I offered him my hand. “You came back. You come back every night.”
    “If I didn’t, would you have wept for me?”
    “I did weep.”
    Menessos wrapped both of his hands around mine. He rubbed little circles with his thumbs. “You’ve been away for so long.”
    I twisted my wrist upward. Menessos bore two of my hexes, making him the equivalent of my Offerling. He needed to partake of my blood occasionally, and it had been over a week. “Go on,” I said. “Drink.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

    A s Johnny strode from his car, fall air gusted behind him. Stray leaves scuttled across the asphalt as if daring him to try to catch them.
    Part of him wished the wind could carry him away from everything and everyone he’d ever known, to hide from this enormous destiny, burying it in lyrics and melodies like he had before. But the bigger part of him knew that wasn’t an option anymore.
    It wasn’t an option for Menessos, either. Seeing the vamp hiding from his troubles made Johnny’s blood boil. It wasn’t like Menessos was the Excelsior or anything. If Johnny had to accept being the Domn Lup, the vamp could damn well accept the responsibilities and consequences of being a Quarterlord.
    Johnny wasn’t going to feel