Persephone Alcmedi 00 - Wicked Circle

it.”
    His old friend seemed to have it all worked out. Yet he had the distinct feeling this conversation was being steered as well. “Are you certain?”
    “Absolutely.”
    Mero sat back. “I will do what I can.”
    “How did you secure the release of the shabbubitum?”
    Without giving Menessos the exact details, he answered, “I filtered their souls through apples and amber, trapping a piece of each in the gemstones. Via the stones, I can exert my will.”
    Menessos considered that. “Was it your idea to release them?”
    “No. Heldridge requested it.”
    “Damn that fool.” Menessos rubbed his temple. “Deric went for it on his word?”
    “Not his. A clever bit of vengeful redirection swayed him.”
    Menessos was silent, then said, “Giovanni.”
    “His grudge is as ugly and as permanent as his scars.”
    “He should be dead. That he is not should make him grateful enough to get over it.”
    “Time does not heal all wounds.”
    Silence followed, then Menessos broke it by casually asking, “So your son did not send you here with a stake in addition to that scroll?”
    Mero shook his head side to side. “No stake.”
    “And what of my witch?”
    Mero tilted his head, curious. The underlying intensity in those words made him think this was the point they’d been coming to all along. “That is more difficult to say.”
    “Call Liyliy back.” It was not a request.
    “I cannot.”
    The air crackled between them and Mero felt the other vampire tap the ley. Menessos leaned forward, sneering. “If Persephone is harmed, the scope of my wrath will surmount any torment you’ve ever known.”
    The threat was frightening, but it was equally telling. “She’s more than just the Lustrata to you.”
    “Mero.” Menessos’s voice was like a taut string, ready to snap. “I heard you tell Liyliy to bring her back. You did not specify ‘alive.’ Call. Her. Back.”
    “It is not that I am unwilling to call her back, I am unable.” Mero stood, paced away. “On her way out, Liyliy stole from me the necklace bearing the amber.”
    “You fool!” Menessos threw the sheet back.
    Before he could get up, Mero placed a restraining hand on Menessos’s shoulder. He said, “Stop,” but Menessos threw him off and thrust his legs over the side of the bed. Spreading smears of red appeared on the bandages. “Stop!” Mero shouted. “You’re not ready to be up yet.”
    The door opened and Goliath stood there waiting for his master to give a signal.
    “Your wounds are deep,” Mero said. “She practically cut you to the bone.” Feeding on his Offerlings would accelerate the healing process, but it was not instantaneous. If Menessos was able to walk around without ripping his stitches before the dawn, he’d be very lucky. “Please, sit back and allow me to explain,” Mero said.
    A tense moment passed before Menessos gestured at Goliath, who demonstrated his reluctance in the slowness with which he shut the door.
    As Menessos reclaimed his former position, Mero sank into the seat. He rose again to retrieve the silken sheet that had slithered to the floor when tossed aside. “Your witch is in no danger,” he said, spreading it over Menessos’s lower half. “Liyliy has the necklace in her possession. She’s just going to flee. It is the confinement of her sisters we must worry about. They don’t yet know the necklace is gone.”
    “You don’t know Liyliy,” Menessos argued. “She won’t simply run, encumbered with the safekeeping of that necklace. She’ll want the thing destroyed, and she knows that Persephone—if caught—will be in a bind herself. She’ll use that leverage to make my witch destroy it.” Menessos shook his head. “You worry about rebinding the sisters. I want my people out searching.”
    Mero saw the other vampire’s hands clench. He knew Menessos wanted to be out searching personally.
    A commotion in the outer room had Mero heading for the door. Goliath and Mark blocked the doorway, then he heard Giovanni’s voice saying, “I am an Advisor to the Excelsior, and as such, I demand you let me pass!”
    “What do you want, Giovanni?” Mero asked.
    “I have news.”
    Mero asked, “What news?”
    “I’ve spoken with our Excelsior.” His grin was as malignant as his tone. “He’s named me the Interim Quarterlord.” Snickering, he added, “The documentation to prove it is on its way.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

    I flew between the blades of the