Persephone Alcmedi 00 - Wicked Circle

his assertion that he couldn’t tell me about Creepy, and my thoughts circled around the impending threat. My hands were shaking. In front of the haven I hit the hazard lights. “What can I expect of this shabbubitum reading of you?”
    “It will be nearly as painful to view as it will be to bear, but you must not interfere.” Menessos couldn’t have exited the car any faster. A doorman from the haven hustled to the driver’s side so he could park it for me. I popped the trunk lever. After grabbing my overnight bag and broom from inside, I said, “What if—”
    “Not under any circumstances, Persephone.” Menessos straightened to his full height as he spoke so that he might look slightly down his nose at me.
    “But—”
    “No buts. Do not interfere.”
    I kicked at the sidewalk. I hated not getting my thoughts out, but I hated the implied helplessness ten times more. I blurted, “As the Lustrata I should do something.”
    “You will. You will observe without acting.”
    “That’s not helpful.” Neither was the chill in the Lake Erie breeze that was blowing my hair around and hiding my frown.
    “Actually, it is. However, if you mean it’s not ‘heroic,’ that is true, but trying to be heroic tonight would be . . . unwise.”
    I glowered. “How is it helpful ,” I snarled, “to stand by while someone is tortured?” I stamped the bushy end of the broom stubbornly. “What am I here for, if not to aid you? You did say they might try to kill me.”
    Menessos was very still. “You must be seen here at my side in court. Until the instant that they say you are my master, everyone in this haven must believe you are not.”
    I swallowed hard. He wants me to flee, but only after it’s confirmed that I’m the bad guy, once every member of his haven knows what I’ve done and then hates and resents me like some of the pack hate and resent me being with Johnny, and like some of the witches hate and resent me. I didn’t like being put in danger, especially when it seemed like danger for the sake of being in danger. This witch wasn’t an adrenaline junkie. If he just wants me to see him suffer for more of my pity— “What’s the payoff for you in that?”
    “If you are absent, your guilt appears evident. If you are present, it appears you are innocent. I mean, if you were my master, logically, why would you wait around knowing they would be obligated to seize you?”
    “Exactly,” I said insipidly. The need to “sell” the notion of being innocent, I could understand, but that seemed thin considering just how guilty I was.
    Menessos gently smoothed my hair into place as the wind died down. “The additional benefit is that VEIN will be assured my people were unaware of it. All of my people. Even Goliath. They will not be read or censured for their silence.”
    Crestfallen, I let my shoulders slump. “Oh.” Accepting a personal risk to ensure others didn’t have to suffer what the shabbubitum did to read them . . . that was danger that had a noble purpose.
    He had me where he wanted me and he knew it.
    “You’re betting my life,” I said, “on your ability to twist things.”
    He tilted his head and peered at me softly. “You can’t deny I’m good at it.”
    Seduction. Now? Suspicious, my chin levered up as I considered that. “What are you up to?”
    He tweaked my chin and grinned mischievously. “Trust me?” It was a breathtaking smile. The smile of the fantasy King Arthur of my girlish dreams. “Yes.”
    He leaned in and put a quick peck of a kiss on my cheek. The brush of his short beard was soft and warm. “Perfect.” He walked away. “You will keep that broom Xerxadrea gave you handy, won’t you? I suggest you keep it right beside your stage seat.”
    Inside the haven, Beholders were setting up brass posts linked with velvet ropes as if preparing for an exclusive evening. Seven met us in the lobby carrying a roll of blueprints and a flat carpenter pencil. Her blue-black hair was gathered up in a high ponytail. It made her beauty sharper and her turquoise eyes brighter.
    She was just leaving the work-in-progress dance club that was set to become a source of haven income, so the construction boots and jeans she wore didn’t surprise me, but the low-slung leather belt laden with dirty, well-worn tools did. Seeing us, she advanced. “Boss. Erus Veneficus.”
    “How is it coming in there?” Menessos asked.
    She offered him the blueprints. “Ahead of schedule.”
    He