Persephone Alcmedi 00 - Wicked Circle

not have the means to contain these sisters,” Mero argued.
    “Liyliy outwitted you, Mero.”
    “It was not as bloody as what she did to you, and still you insult me.”
    “It is not my intent to insult you, my friend.”
    “But you do, and after I have done all I can to minimize the tragedy here.”
    “I am grateful for that,” Menessos said, “but I have spoken truly. She stole the necklace from you. I will bind her sisters more thoroughly. . . .” He sighed. “It is no less than I deserve.”
    “Deserve? As a penance?”
    Menessos said nothing.
    “You can’t mean to make them your own? It would make them stronger!”
    “Through the connection forged in the blood exchange, a deeper binding could be placed upon them. One that would ensure their loyalty.”
    Mero was incredulous. “Their story is sad and you feature in it more than most know, but this . . . error . . . is not your doing. It is mine. If either of us must suffer that solution, it should be me.” A deep breath could not counter the fearful tightening of his chest that the mere idea inspired. “They would have to accept it, and as they loathe you already they would surely not accept such a binding. Their former master tried as much. You know how that ended.” They had read their former master into madness and death. “I stand a better chance of gaining their acceptance.”
    “You cannot risk this, Mero. Your son needs you. If you succeeded, Ailo and Talto would require too much of your time, and I apparently will have plenty . . . without the duties of a Quarterlord to perform. Besides, with Liyliy absent, they cannot conduct the kind of reading that the three of them can do together. And . . .”
    “And what?” he demanded. He knew Menessos’s expression indicated fast thinking and serious risks. “What are you thinking?”
    “When Giovanni is through with them, they will be tired. If you bring them here, one at a time, I can seduce them into the blood exchange. Then . . . the rest is just binding their flesh.” He paused and lowered his voice. “They need not agree.”
    Mero sank onto the edge of the bed. “A black binding? Are you mad? Performing it would corrode your soul—”
    “Some souls aren’t affected by the black arts.”
    “You’ve made mistakes, but you’re no demon.”
    The corner of Menessos’s lips curled. “This will work best if done while the sun is risen.”
    Connecting the clues, Mero whispered, “A black binding with the sun up means you and the sisters would be dead flesh, making this black necromancy . . . are you saying you have a demon?”
    “I do.”
    All magic had an element of danger to it. All bindings were to some extent evil. But this . . . magic used on the unwilling was vile and twisted. Moreover, Menessos was shackling them to him forever . As endless as vampires were, committing centuries to each other was not uncommon. Even millennia could be achieved when the bonds of friendship were strong—Seven and Mark were evidence of that. But Ailo and Talto were wicked, and they hated Menessos.
    Mero couldn’t allow him to do this. “This is too dangerous.”
    Menessos crossed his arms. “Then suggest something better. Something sure to work.”
    Mero had nothing better. He stood and paced away.
    On paper from the bedside table, Menessos wrote up a list. He then sent for the Offerling who had tended his wounds, and upon her arrival he gave her the paper. “Bring these items as soon as you can. Then we’ll discuss what I want you to do with them.”
    Mero watched her leave and marveled that he had not identified her before—the red irises should have been a giveaway, but demons were rare and red contacts were not.
    “She is half-human,” Menessos explained. “Her mother did some very bad things. Her father was one of them.”
    Flashing a smile at his Maker’s wit, Mero said, “Risqué has the better half on her exterior. She’s beautiful. No tail.”
    “She has a tail, a short one. The ruffles disguise it.”
    “Do you truly trust her?”
    “Yes. Her mother gave her up at birth. I saw to her upbringing, so I trust her implicitly,” Menessos added.
    “You taught her magic?”
    “Of course. Demon father, witch mother. It was necessary for everyone’s safety.”
    “And she is powerful enough to do what you suggest?”
    “If I was not certain, I would not allow her to work magic on my corpse.”
    Mero was growing weary with the impending dawn before Giovanni released the