Persephone Alcmedi 00 - Wicked Circle

who rode in carriages.
    “I want to be a businessman,” Heldridge had answered.
    “Then you shall be,” Menessos said.
    Arrangements were made and Heldridge learned from the best tutors, but at various intervals—sometimes months, sometimes years—Menessos would show up and ask him strange questions and would require him to say odd phrases in Latin.
    He knew now that these had been tests of his magical abilities.
    He had failed them all, but he’d learned to be a savvy businessman. Eventually Menessos rewarded him and Made him. With his help, Menessos had built a strong and prosperous haven.
    Then the day came when Menessos brought in another child. Goliath . This weak mortal’s intellect had captured his master’s interests.
    His master fostered the child much the same as he had fostered Heldridge, but Menessos’s interests had been keener because the seed of a witch was sprouting within this child.
    You were ready for me to leave, Menessos. Ready for me to be my own master so you could name Goliath your Alter Imperator. I could accept that my failure to manifest magical talent meant I was not what you wanted in a son. But you didn’t have to bring your haven to Cleveland. You could have relocated your Lustrata to Chicago. No one there would have been watching you in your city. But in my city, I was watching, and I recognized what she did to you.
    Yes, I took action. Yes, I told. You’ve gone soft. It was no less than you deserved.
    Now they’re waking the shabbubitum. I remember what you told me. “They are more dangerous than anyone could have realized.”
    You should have left me alone. Now we’ll see how you manage—magic to magic.
    The door of the holding cell opened, jarring him from his thoughts. A sentry gestured for him to come out.
    “Where to?”
    The vampire did not answer.
    Having little choice, Heldridge walked from the cell and was escorted by twelve sentries to an elevator where another vampire waited. The vampire had a shaven head and wore a collarless shirt that had only the bottom half buttoned. It could have been a fashion statement but for the obvious scars on his neck. Once upon a time something had claimed chunks of his throat. His expression was one of disgust and contempt, and worse, the vampire had flat, lusterless eyes.
    That was a bad sign.
    During his century-plus of unnatural life, Heldridge had seen such before. Some of the younger undead had developed this phenomenon, recovering their life at sundown to bear the awful weight of their dead hours in their gaze. They were the vampires he knew would not long survive their new life. He had learned why the selection process for Offerlings was so intense and why their service was required for various lengths of time before being Made. It was not so much exclusive as it was merciful.
    “Who are you?”
    “I am Giovanni Guistini, advisor to the Excelsior.”
    Heldridge was stunned. Listening to Giovanni speak was like hearing the hiss of an old steam locomotive, adding in a scratchiness so one could make words of it. With such a voice, his words would have to possess serious insight for anyone—much less the Excelsior—to suffer employing him for his spoken opinions.
    Four sentries stood in the elevator. Giovanni stepped in with them. The sentry behind Heldridge poked him in the back; he joined the group. More sentries piled in behind him.
    They rode downward in silence and Heldridge considered Giovanni.
    An advisor to the Excelsior would not be a young vampire. It was different when the suspiciously cruel eyes were on an older vampire. Heldridge had learned that when seen on a haven master, this symptom meant the vampire was not likely to expire, but those around him or her definitely were.
    He decided to regard Giovanni as extremely dangerous and unforgiving. It meant Heldridge wouldn’t dare to give these vampires any resistance or trouble.
    The elevator doors opened on an underground parking garage. More sentries waited there and led the group to an idling black limousine. “Get in,” Giovanni said as a sentry opened the door. Eagerly, Heldridge did. Four sentries were waiting inside. Heldridge sat in the center of the rear and was relieved to be out of the presence of the scarred and raspy advisor. Then Giovanni joined him. Heldridge scooted to the far door. “Any chance you’ll tell me where we’re going?”
    “None.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

    B y the time Menessos and I arrived at Public Square, I had accepted