I was speechless as he approached. But for the modern clothes, he was my Arthur, exactly as I had dreamed him for all the years I’d been enthralled with Camelot.

Closer now, I could see that his eyes—stern and gray like cold, cold steel—were eyes that had seen more horror than happiness. His shirt, open to the fourth button, showed the curve of a muscular chest. As my attention returned to his extraordinary face, I realized he’d seen me counting the open buttonholes. It seemed to please him.

“Persephone Alcmedi.” I expected his voice to have an exotic accent when he spoke, but he said my name without any telltale inflections. He even got the pronunciation right.

“Menessos.” Saying his name forced me to remember he was a vampire, not Arthur.

He made a show of appraising the area. “What a…rural…place you have here.” I wasn’t certain if he was insulting the simplicity of my location and my unpaved driveway or if he was just pointing out that there was no one around for miles to hear our screaming.

I smiled agreeably. “My little piece of the planet.”

With his posture and stance set for intimidating perfection, he said, “You will surrender Vivian Diamond, the book, and the weapon. Do not make yourself a part of our quarrels. Relinquish them now and I give you my solemn word, I will leave you in peace.”

How much was the word of a vampire worth? Less than any other hustler’s word, as far as I was concerned. My expression didn’t feel as hard as I wanted it to be, and I glanced away as I changed it. Goliath, who’d obviously seen me ogling his master, was smirking at me. “I absolutely do not want to interfere in your quarrel—” I began.

“I hear a ‘but’ coming.” Goliath snickered.

“But”—I glared at him—“I need the book.” I didn’t want to call it the Codex. It might make a difference if he knew that I knew what it was. “At least temporarily.”

Menessos sauntered forward until he was only a few feet away, just beyond my porch rail and at the edge of my ward. His expression said clearly that he found my refusal as utterly predictable as Goliath did. “That book does not belong to you.”

“I know. And I will give it to you, but first I have to undo the damage Goliath caused my friend.”

Menessos squinted. “What do you mean?”

There was no reason I could see not to tell him, so I did. “I’m going to perform a ritual from the book to save her life.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Which ritual?”

“Enhancing moonlight with elemental energy. A complete transformation is the only thing that can save Theo’s life right now. She won’t last until the full moon.”

He considered it. “I know this ritual…are you witch enough to succeed?”

Convincing him was a basic safety requirement, like a hard hat at a construction site, but his challenge to my witchhood was a blow that sent my metaphorical hard hat rolling. Am I witch enough?

Smart-ass comebacks came to me easily, but telling others what I truly thought of myself—and that was what Menessos was really asking—was much harder. Maybe I didn’t think that much of myself. Maybe that was why the whole Lustrata thing made me uneasy.

I hoped Menessos didn’t see the frailty I suddenly felt. I mustered the sound of confidence and firmly said, “We’re going to find out.”

Luckily, that seemed to satisfy him. “I will take you at your word, Persephone. I think we can wait to claim the book in a peaceful manner when you are through.”

“We can’t start until at least three-thirty A.M., when the moon shines through the skylights of her room. We can’t risk moving her.”

He checked his watch and then the sky. I noted his profile. “I’ve heard much about—” He was assessing me and stopped, his eyes lingering on the Superman symbol on my chest. Or maybe he was just staring at my chest because I’d stared at his. He shifted. “You. We will wait, because it is a rare thing for a person to astonish me,” Menessos said. “Very rare.”

“And anyone who does finds themselves on the endangered list, right?”

“Yes,” he answered, expression flat. “But you possess a unique potential. You could leap onto my short list of allies.”

I smiled. “Not sure I want to be in that kind of company.”

He smiled too, a smile as without mirth as my own.

Goliath, who stood flanking his master, glared past me to Johnny. “It’s better than the company you currently keep,” he snarled.

Johnny sneered. I didn’t see it, but I knew it was there by the deep growl I heard. “At least my friends aren’t limited to dark hours.”

“Enough!” Menessos said, surging forward despite my wards and gripping the railing. I could feel the alarms prickling my skin, and my head throbbed like the siren was inside my skull. “Do not threaten me, witch,” he spat. His eyes had gone black and pitiless like a shark’s. “Waiting for you is a courtesy I extend because it amuses me that you would attempt to conduct a ritual from my book. But have no doubt that, should I change my mind—and you’re teetering on the disrespectful edge of forcing me to action right now—I will come into your house despite your paltry wards, the presence of the stake, and your jumentous friends…and I will bring with me destruction such as you have never known.”

I blinked stupidly. Eloquent intimidation has that effect on me.

“I’m hungry,” Menessos muttered as he turned and walked away. “You!” he called to one of the motorcyclists. “What is your name? Vance, is it?”

One of the beholders stepped away from his bike and removed his helmet. “I’m Vinny.”

“Vincent, then. Lower the collar of your jacket.”

The beholder immediately exposed his neck. “How long’s this pain gonna last?”

Menessos didn’t answer, but took a position behind the man and prepared to do what vampires do.

Confused by the beholder’s words, I turned away. “Back to the kitchen,” I said, mostly to Beverley. “We don’t need to see this.”

Chapter 20

You’re going to wear a rut in the floor,” Nana said from the dinette table in the kitchen.

It was twelve-forty. Time was snailing by, and my nervous energy found an outlet in pacing the long hallway from the kitchen, past the steps, and to the front door and back. Moving not only kept me busy, but it kept my mind off my rumbling stomach. I had to fast until the ritual was over.

The vampires had retreated to the interior of the limo, but it remained idling in my drive. Dr. Lincoln—who had left, gotten some more sleep, checked some animal patients, and returned—was monitoring Theo, preparing to feed her through the tube in anticipation of her coming transformation. Johnny sat on my couch, calmly engrossed in something on the Food Channel. Beverley was dozing on the opposite end of the couch. Nana was just rousing from a nap.

Presently, Celia and Erik returned from giving Vivian a bathroom break. Celia, like the doc, had expressed concern for Vivian, so we switched out the soppy dishcloth gag for a fresh and dry bandanna. I even conceded to putting a pillow on the seat of her chair. I thought that was big of me, but Celia showed me the “burns” Vivian had on her wrists from the clothesline, so I added some padding and had the guys reposition her in the chair. As far as I was concerned, that was as comfortable as Vivian needed to get.

Wondering what it said about me that I was less appalled by Vivian’s torturous restraints than the wæres were, I paced to the door and peered out at the limo.

Johnny rose from the couch and came to the doorway. “What is it?”

“If all goes well and Theo’s transformed, then I am going to give Vivian over to the vampires.”

“So?”

“So if the others are worried about her being uncomfortable here, they definitely won’t like that.”

I paced back to the kitchen. He followed. I said, “The way I figure it, she messed with them first. They’d have caught her eventually anyway.”