Resolutely, Johnny said, “No.”
“Then the old woman and the girl will die.”
“Johnny,” I said, teeth clenched.
Johnny turned to me; his eye was already swelling where Menessos had hit him. One of his eyebrow rings had been torn out, and blood ran down his face. “Red—”
“Just do it,” I said. If anything happened to Nana and Beverley because of him—I wouldn’t let myself think about that.
He studied me, then without another word backed toward the door. For each step he took away from me, Menessos took one closer to me. Johnny paused at the garage door; his hands had returned to normal. Ares was still out there, barking wildly from his cage.
Menessos slipped behind me, hands gripping my shoulders, and his lips came close to my ear. “I see from the glimmer in his mongrel glare that your doggie is contemplating something irresponsible. See, Persephone, the dog-like way his nose wrinkles and he bares his teeth and snarls? I wouldn’t be surprised if, next, excess saliva began dripping from his uncouth jowls. Of course this show of reverting to his baser instincts substantiates my theory. I will repeat myself, lest you forget, puppy: the lady is my hostage. Your actions will dictate how this unfolds. Do you understand me, whelp?”
“Yeah,” Johnny answered, looking at me.
With a gentle touch, Menessos turned my face toward him. “I will witness—at long last—the destruction of Vivian’s stake. And you, Persephone, will be with me, at my side, as I triumph.”
Johnny started forward. “If you hurt her—”
“You’ll find it much harder to finish the task with a broken leg, but I promise you, that’s what I’ll do to you next.” When Johnny didn’t move or speak, Menessos added, “Fetch the stake, boy.”
Johnny hurried across the yard in the pale light of the waning moon. Watching through the kitchen window, I ached for him. Menessos had released me, confident that I wasn’t stupid enough to try anything, well, stupid. “You’re cruel,” I said.
He sauntered closer, looking as if I were a silly child he was about to admonish. “He is a dog, and you cannot ever expect him to be anything but a dog.”
Defiant, I said, “He is a wolf.”
In answer, Menessos faked a yawn.
“Add ‘rude’ to the list.”
“Were we making a list, dear Persephone?”
“I am. Cruel. Rude. And an oath breaker.”
“I am not an oath breaker.”
“Yes, you are.” Johnny disappeared into the night. I was partially afraid that beholders could be waiting for him, but they would feel the pain of the stake too, wouldn’t they? I looked away from the window. Menessos accepted my glare without offense. In fact, I think it pleased him to see it. Maybe that was because I felt defeated and it showed. Seeing me beaten would be something that would surely make him happy. “You swore to never step into a circle again until the stake was destroyed. But you entered my circle.”
His expression sharpened as he tried to figure out who could have told me. I think he wanted to ask, but he restrained himself. “I thought you were referring to the blood oath again.” He whispered, “So many troubled thoughts.”
I wasn’t sure if the stain would allow him to read my mind or not, but that comment made me wonder. I didn’t want him to read the answer in my thoughts, so I guarded them.
“Come, witch. Build me a fire in your hearth.”
He gestured for me to precede him. My feet moved before I had a chance to think about whether or not I wanted to comply. There on the table was the notebook with the printouts from the ancient book. Thank goodness Nana had shut it. The label on it read Research so it looked like nothing Menessos would be interested in. I didn’t touch it.
After checking the flue, I knelt before the hearth. From the basket that held old newspapers, I grabbed a piece and crumpled it, dropping it on the grate. I took a few other sheets and did the same. Before I crumpled the last piece I intended to use, I realized I was holding the front page with the picture of Beverley crying and the headline about her mother. Her grief was so fresh. Only five days ago—it seemed like so much longer than that.
Would Beverley want a copy of this or not? It was hard to say. It was gruesome, but maybe later it would be important to her. I folded it nicely and set it aside, took another sheet of newspaper to crumple, then started placing the smaller pieces of kindling in the iron grate and, finally, topped the kindling with two quarter-logs. I struck the match and held it to the newspaper.
Menessos made himself comfortable on my couch, striking the same pose that Samson had tried and failed at. Thinking of Samson made my mind flash on the image of his head in my refrigerator; a wave of nausea hit me. I scooted back from the heat of the fire but continued watching the flames lick and dance. “Will you…” I had to swallow down bitter bile. “Will you remove Samson’s head from my house?”
Menessos waited before saying, “Perhaps. If I am…satisfied…when I leave.” The predator in him observed me for a long time; I could feel his gaze on me as surely as I felt the high temperature of the fire before me. “You know, if the whelp hadn’t confessed to betraying you, I would have killed you once the stake was destroyed.”
“Are you saying that now you won’t?” I twisted to look at him. I caught a glimpse of my bat and the 40 Winks bottle still in the corner.
He checked his fingers as if inspecting the state of his manicure. “Yes. You thought all was as it should be.”
Though he said words I wanted to hear, I couldn’t trust him and be relieved. I turned back to the hearth. Would the water make him sleep? He was very powerful; probably not. “What about Johnny? And Nana and Beverley?”
“Your spirited grandmother and the girl will be returned to you. They are as yet unharmed, though their individual fear limits may have been exposed.”
“What does that mean?”
“They are not physically harmed, Persephone, but I cannot account for their ability to mentally deal with being held hostage.”
I waited until it was clear that he did not intend to say more. “What about Johnny?” I pressed, letting him know with my tone that I was irritated that he kept avoiding this answer.
“As for the whelp—”
“Cool it with the dog references already. His name is Johnny.”
Menessos laughed out loud. I didn’t see anything funny about the comment. He sat forward, rubbing his slender fingers together. “Persephone, you’re an interesting woman, and because of that I will allow you a measure of patience. I believe laypeople would call it a ‘learning curve.’ But that measure will evaporate swiftly if you do not address me with more respect.”
He was a liar and a murderer. He’d probably kill every one of us. I had nothing to lose. “You’re not a guest here. You can deal with the sarcasm.”
“I don’t believe you fully comprehend the situation.”
That sounded like a threat, so I stood up and faced him. “Sure I do. My house, my rules.” My arms crossed, and I threw my hip out in a perfect attitude-alert pose. “Anybody who commits breaking and entering, puts a dead man’s head in my refrigerator, and kidnaps my family can kiss my ass if they don’t like the words I use.”
“I would be ever so delighted to do exactly that.”
My face flushed crimson, but I mimicked him as I said, “I don’t believe you fully comprehend the point of flirting, because this is no time for it.” I considered going for the bat and bottle and finding out whether they would work, but—
He stood in a lithe, liquid motion and sauntered forward. “I assure you, Persephone, I understand perfectly the art of seduction.” He spoke my name like it was a cherry atop a hot fudge sundae, a single bite with sweet and potent flavor. “You are eligible to receive the benefit of my experience, now that you have become my servant.”