Chapter 14

Vivian had come in through a window in the mostly unused dining room and headed for the kitchen. The men had caught her there, and whatever she’d done put them to sleep. Luckily, it hadn’t pulled energy and pushed them into a partial change. Hearing Ares pawing at the door upstairs, I knew that in a few minutes Nana would come to investigate. I closed the window, reinstated the wards, and tried to wake the men up. Shaking them didn’t work, but I discovered that their shirts were wet and smelled like valerian.

Remembering the water bottle that had rolled down the hall when I’d surprised Vivian, I jerked the men’s damp shirts off over their heads, Erik first. Johnny began rousing as soon as I lifted the fabric from his skin, revealing more tattoos. On my knees beside him, I hurried, ignoring the artful images on his skin and trying to pull his shirt off before he came fully awake, knowing he’d have a slew of innuendo-laden questions.

“Red,” he said, grabbing my hands as the collar slipped over his face. He took in our positions and my exposed shoulder where the robe was ripped. His eyes glanced over my breasts, saw the rise and fall of my chest from heavy breathing. The look he gave me was all male and—

Erik groaned, waking, and suddenly Johnny was scrutinizing the room, surely remembering what had happened.

I gestured at Vivian. “Put her in a chair and tie her up.” I opened my catchall drawer and found the bundle of “Braided Cotton Premium Clothesline No. 7” that Lydia had left along with other household odds and ends.

“What’d she do to us?” Erik asked, yawning. “Where’re our shirts?”

“She used a natural, if magically boosted, sleep aid, I think.” I handed Erik the rope and went down the hall to get the bottle. “I took your shirts off so you could wake up. Don’t put them back on without washing them first.”

When I came back, they had positioned Vivian in a dining room chair. I stared, mesmerized, at Johnny’s bare back as he worked to tie her up. It was almost entirely covered by an intricate tattoo. A red Chinese lion-dog and a black dragon battled across his shoulder blades. The movement of Johnny’s muscles made the creatures seem to fight or dance.

“What’s with her?” he asked as he bound her feet together. “You think she came to steal the money back?”

“What money?” Erik asked.

I shrugged at Johnny and ignored Erik, turning to set the water bottle on the counter.

“Some kind of witch-fund thing,” Johnny said.

This was going to be touchy; I was grateful he would try to cover for me. Caffeine might help me think clearly enough to avoid telling them the horrible truth. “I need coffee.”

Just as I got the coffeepot going, Ares bounded in, and Nana followed. She assessed the shirtless men yawning contentedly and stretching like cats sunning themselves. Next she noted Vivian, bound to a chair with her head lobbed forward uncomfortably. The tied ends of a dishrag flipped up from her hair, revealing that we’d also gagged her. The rotten side of me had wanted to use the damp and soapy rag hanging over the faucet, but my conscience wouldn’t hear of it, so I’d decided to use a clean one.

“What is going on down here?” Nana demanded, eyeballing my ripped robe and exposed undies. Her shocked expression made me tighten my robe properly around me. “Well, I can guess. This kind of debauchery is typical of wæres, but I’m ashamed of you, Persephone Isis! This isn’t what I had in mind, and you know it. It’s…it’s even upset my Ares.” His ears pricked at his name, and he licked her hand.

“Debauchery?” Johnny elbowed Erik. “Debauchery. That’s what I’ll call that song I wrote and couldn’t think of a title or chorus for.” He grinned broadly and said it again. “Debauchery.”

Celia and Beverley came into the kitchen behind Nana. Apparently, bedhead was contagious. It was official: we’d awakened everyone.

“This isn’t what you think it is, Nana. This is Vivian, the High Priestess. She broke into the house. We stopped her.”

“Broke in?” Nana shuffled over to Vivian. “She doesn’t look like a burglar.” Nana sank onto the bench across from Vivian and glowered at me. Ares sat beside her.

I shrugged. “She said, ‘It’s mine and I’m not leaving without it,’ but I don’t know what ‘it’ is.”

Into the silence that followed, Beverley meekly said, “It’s my fault.”

Everyone turned to her, leaning in the doorway.

“You know what she came for?” I asked.

“Something I took from her house.”

I winced. “You took something of hers?”

“She said such mean things! It made me mad. She stomped around shouting at me for so long, then she told me to pack all my stuff. She threw the box at me and told me to be quick, that she’d be waiting in the car and if I wasn’t out there in ten minutes she’d make me walk.” Beverley swallowed hard. “So I packed my stuff. And since she was in the car, I packed her spell book under my clothes. I wanted to get back at her. She must’ve figured out I took it.” Her head dropped down. “I’m sorry, Seph. I shouldn’t have taken it. I’ll go get it.” Beverley walked away.

“Gutsy kid,” Johnny commented just as the coffeepot beeped to signal it was done brewing. “Java’s ready. Who’s drinking?”

A chorus of “me’s” answered him, and he started getting out mugs.

My hand ran over my hair. Vivian would wake eventually. If we ungagged her, she’d tell them all about our contract. How much guilt could I take without snapping?

Beverley came back with the book held in her enfolded arms. It had a wooden back with iron workings like a very old book or one made to appear so. She laid it on the countertop and pushed it at me, her expression ashamed.

I knew how she felt; if Vivian started talking, I was going to feel shame too.

The cover of the book had a triskelion secured to it with iron nails that looked like horseshoe nails. It seemed like something Arthur might have found on a quest.

“Lunar crone!” Nana exclaimed. “That book! Where did you get it, child?”

Beverley leaned against the pantry door and pointed at Vivian. “From an altar table in her bedroom.”

Nana rose, moving Ares out of the way, then grabbed a handful of Vivian’s hair and jerked her head up to see her face. With her other hand she touched, tentatively, Vivian’s forehead. With a shout, Nana jerked away as if burnt. Ares rushed to put himself between her and Vivian. She stumbled over the big pup; Erik caught her, steadied her.

“Nana?”

“Sit, Ares,” she said. He did. Nana took a step past him and stumbled again, but this time it wasn’t the pup’s fault.

Again, only Erik’s intervention kept her from going down. “Let’s get you back on the bench, shall we?” he said.

When she was safely at the table, Nana stared at the book fearfully. “I tried to see into her mind. She has some protection wards about her person.”

I remembered the jolt I felt. “I injected her with the morphine—I got a jolt too, but it wasn’t that bad.”

Nana asked, “Your wards connected to you?”

After thinking through the words I’d said, my answer was, “Yes.”

“They absorbed the brunt of it for you, then.” She gestured at Vivian. “It’s probably jewelry.”

Going around the counter to the dinette, I lifted Vivian’s head by the hair. A chain hung around her neck, down into her shirt. With a nod toward the butcher-block knife set, I said, “Kitchen shears.” Celia handed them to me. Lifting the chain with the edge of the scissors, I maneuvered it around, pulled it free, and cut it loose. The chain and the little wire-bound stones attached to various links tumbled to the floor. I kicked it away.

Nana gestured at Erik. “Help me.” He gave her his arm and she returned to Vivian and repeated the forehead-touching maneuver, then returned to her chair. She said nothing as she moved, and when she sat she remained silent. The rest of us traded glances. The tension thickened the air in the room until breathing felt difficult.