Menessos repeated it all back to me. “We participate and help your friend recover. Then you’ll surrender freely these things I fear most, as you put it. Vivian, the book—which I am sure you must be loath to part with—and you’ll place the stake outside?”

Parting with my ward-defenses was more loathsome to me than parting with the Codex, but Nana wouldn’t have agreed with me. “That’s acceptable.”

“I will send an envoy for the stake tomorrow.”

I bobbed my head in agreement.

“Very well. I promise no one inside will be harmed—”

“Promise no one here will be harmed in any way, inside of the house or outside of it,” I pressed.

“I will make oath to that, you will make invitation, and we will wait on the porch, not entering your home until after the stake is removed.” He rubbed his hands together. “This agreement seems more equitable than the siege I had expected this evening.”

What the hell had he been planning?

He raised his right hand, palm up, and slid his sleeve up halfway to his elbow. With the nail of his left-hand forefinger, he made a slice over the vein in his forearm. Blood welled up instantly, dark and syrupy, pouring in a thick stream over his skin. He pushed through my ward, setting off the alarm in my head. I deactivated it with a thought. He wiped his left hand over the blood and smeared it over the posts holding up my porch roof and across the tread of the first step. “By my blood, then, no one in your house will be harmed, either by me or Goliath or any other under my control or influence.”

Behind me, at the screen door, I heard Nana gasp.

“Agreed.” I swallowed, hard, knowing what I had to do next.

Chapter 22

Menessos, Goliath. Please…come inside.”

Menessos put his foot onto the first tread, unhurriedly, then stepped up onto my porch. I wanted to retreat, to backpedal to the door and inside. I shouted at myself mentally: Do not show him fear! Even if you are afraid, you’ll fight it with every breath, every beat of your heart! Fear isn’t weakness, but giving in to it is. My feet were planted between the vampire and my front door.

He stood there expectantly, gazing into my eyes, though I stared at his lightly bearded square chin. In a fluid motion, Menessos glided right up to me, invading my personal space. I retreated, and he moved with me at the same speed and distance, as if we were dancing. Then my back was against the porch roof support post.

In that instant, I learned something: people’s fears are odd things. Some people won’t go boating or swimming because of a fear of the water. Some people won’t wear turtlenecks or anything tight at their throats. Some people avoid big dogs. I’d always attributed these kinds of things to past-life events, like drowning, hanging, being attacked by animals—whatever would account for the fear. I’d never discovered a specific fear of my own like that—until now, as I stood with my back pinned against a solid post. I wondered if a past life of mine had ended with a post at my back and kindling under my feet.

“Thank you, Miss Alcmedi, for having faith in my word.”

“You’re welcome.” It sounded a lot more confident than I felt.

“You’re an uncommon woman.”

“What does that mean?” It sounded like praise, but a vampire’s praise was a worrisome thing.

“People generally reside in one of two categories. Either the group who think vampires are…cool”—he made it sound like an expletive—“and offer up thoughtless invitations incessantly, or those with a terror of vampires so intense they offer only intolerance and hate. Most of both categories are imbeciles, and we would never seek their companionship.” He touched me, lightly, to smooth my hair. I could not tell if his touch was cold or calloused, but I wondered. “But you…Persephone.” He whispered my name, and I felt the warmth of a summer breeze on my bare skin. “You are intelligent and brave. If only there were more like you…”

From the doorway, Johnny cleared his throat, a sound that ended with a prolonged low growl. I was suddenly embarrassed, angry with myself, and angry that Menessos would try seduction while my friend lay dying for our help. “There is little time,” I said, gesturing toward the door.

Menessos whispered, “Vampires have forever.”

“Theo doesn’t.”

He made a gracious gesture of capitulation. “Remove the stake from your home, out the back egress, please.”

“Wait here.” I could have given Johnny a signal and he would have seen that it got done, but I wanted to get away from Menessos. “Excuse me.” I slipped past him and went inside, forcing Nana to back up to allow me through. Johnny moved only enough to be out of the way, surely to keep an eye on the vampires.

In the kitchen, I lifted the lid on the stake’s storage box to be sure it was still inside. Such a remarkably common-looking thing; a muddy stick. The sharpened tip gave it an ominous flair, though. And it was pale, the wood’s tip, like a fang. Nana touched my shoulder, and I jumped. My muscles were so tight. “When this leaves the house, we have no defense against him,” I said.

“And we’ll need none.”

I looked at Nana; something strange in her expression told me that her words were not simply stating her hopes as if they were pep-talk facts. She must have seen my confusion on my face. “He made a blood oath to you.”

“He what?” Celia nearly shrieked.

They shared a long look that I couldn’t read. Then Nana explained, “He drew his own blood, marked your porch with it, and swore to our safety.”

Celia watched me, expression curious. “What?” I asked.

“What did you say to him?” Celia asked back.

Had I done something wrong? “That I’d remove the stake from the house and, after we do the ritual, I’d let him take Vivian and the book away. He’ll send someone for the stake tomorrow.”

“Rudimentary deal-making. What else?” Celia pressed.

“I asked him for a guarantee. He didn’t offer it.”

“Well.” She put her hands on her hips. “Whatever it was, you impressed him enough to make him draw his own blood. They don’t give up their precious fluid for any common reason.”

“Such an oath is more binding than any legal contract ever written,” Nana added. “And, so long as you hold up your end, more enforceable.”

“Enforceable how?”

“Later,” Nana said. “We haven’t much time.”

“Right.” So he was impressed. That explained why he had flirted with me. “I have to get this off the property. I’ll be right back.” After closing its lid, I lifted the box and slipped into the garage, then outside through what my Realtor had called the “man-door” in the rear of the garage. In the yard, my shoes made a shushing sound in the grass. There was little light, but I knew my way, knew every little hill and dip of the yard, so my steps remained firm and confident. The box was much heavier than the object it held, and I switched hands halfway through the yard. At the end of the grass, where the cornfield began, I sat the box down and slid it in between the stalks. I turned back to the house. It seemed so far, so small and bright with all the lights on. Everyone inside was waiting for me.

If I wanted to flee, now was the time.

The sound of a stick snapping caught my attention. Beholders in the field.

It was a good thing I didn’t want to flee.

Still, the thought that people were out there, dangerous people, made my back feel exposed—like I was it—so I jogged back to the house.

That was almost funny: beholders were dangerous enough to send me jogging back into the house where their masters were waiting for me.

Everyone was starting to assemble upstairs when I returned. Dr. Lincoln was with Theo, as were Celia, Erik, and Beverley. Nana was climbing the steps. Johnny motioned me on through the hall, and I joined him at the bottom of the steps. Menessos and Goliath remained on the porch.