No wonder Johnny had known I’d been stained. I hadn’t considered the oddness of that before. Did he also know Menessos had kissed me? Instantly, I pictured Menessos’s face and could feel his—

Damn it!

Could Menessos use the mark to create approval and desire for him in my thoughts? Like bespelling me with his eyes, only from a distance? He was a vampire. I shouldn’t have any contemplations about him that weren’t derogatory…so why was I thinking of him admiringly? Why was I thinking about him doing things that I hadn’t thought about doing in a long time—at least, until a few days ago when I started imagining doing those things with Johnny?

I scolded myself. My thoughts were about as nonsensical as those of a smitten teenage girl.

But I couldn’t put that thought away. Menessos had Vivian back. She had cause for a serious grudge against me. She would offer up anything she had that might spare her the pain and torment Menessos clearly had planned for her.

“How’s that possible?” Theo demanded, bringing me back to the situation at present.

Johnny, still not looking at anyone, poured more cereal into his bowl. “Don’t know,” he said, his tone a little sharper. His sore spot had been found.

Theo rested her arm casually on the back of Beverley’s chair. I knew this wasn’t over yet. “Those are interesting tattoos you have,” she said brightly, as if changing the subject. “I’ve always wanted to ask you about them.”

Johnny’s expression darkened, however, suggesting that the subject hadn’t changed at all.

Theo sipped her coffee. “How long have you had them?”

“Long enough.” He put down his spoon and focused his Wedjat gaze on her steadily, trying for the intimidating look that worked on me without effort.

If I had been Theo, I’d have stopped pushing right there, because poking around on a wild animal’s injury would get you mauled. But Theo was clearly not intimidated by Johnny, and frankly the nature of her business was asking questions. “Why did you choose the Egyptian Wedjat, the Chinese power-animals, and the Celtic knot-work on your arms, may I ask? It’s certainly an interesting mix of artwork and cultures.”

He said nothing.

“Do you perhaps have ancestral ties to them?” she pressed.

“Not that I know of.”

Theo cocked her head. “I don’t understand.”

“I didn’t choose any of my tattoos.”

Theo didn’t seem as surprised as the rest of us were. In fact, she seemed more like a cat watching a mouse walk into a carefully laid trap. “You let someone else choose the designs to be forever on your body?”

Johnny scooted his chair back as he pushed the half-full bowl away. He stood. “I remember being attacked.” He ran a hand through his dark hair. “And I remember waking, naked, in a park. I had the tattoos then. It was later that I learned I’d become a wærewolf.”

He looked so tough, so formidable standing there, spine stiff and muscles taut. Yet a vulnerability swam in his eyes and seemed to be begging for answers to questions he’d carried too long.

I glanced at Theo to see her reaction to this, but the only thing about her that seemed out of place was how pale her knuckles were, her fingers grasping the mug very tightly as she said calmly, “And what of your life before the attack?”

Johnny shrugged. “A blank.”

All of this stunned me, but I wasn’t alone. Clearly, the other wærewolves hadn’t known any of it either.

Johnny put his hands on his hips. “What does this tell you, Theo?”

“Don’t know. I’ve just always wondered.” She faced me. “Remind you of anything witchy?”

“No.”

Nana shuffled in, wearing a matching top and pants of pale lavender and sage and her fuzzy pink slippers. I hadn’t heard her come down the steps, and I wondered if she’d heard any of our conversation. Her cigarette case was in her hand. Since she had fasted for the ritual, she was probably as hungry as I had been. She seemed tired, more tired than I’d ever seen her, and she didn’t so much as look at anyone, let alone greet them. Nana set the cigarette case on the table, slid into a chair, picked up a biscuit, split it open, and smeared jelly across it. “Okay, then, so what now?” she asked.

“Wait for the vampire’s errand boy to come for the stake,” I answered. “There aren’t any options.”

Johnny crossed his arms. “I don’t think we should just hand over the weapon of the millennium. I mean, it’s the one thing that can bring him down,” he said. “It’s the weapon you should have.”

I knew he was referring to the Lustrata thing again. I didn’t want to talk about it. “I gave my word.”

“So did he. It meant nothing, so why hold yourself to yours?”

The attention of all the room’s occupants now focused on me. I understood why Johnny had seemed so sour when it had been him in the spotlight. “I’m better than that.”

“And what price are you willing to pay to be better?”

“You have a good point. In fact, it’s a great point. But, no. My security here is compromised. If I don’t give the stake to him, he’ll just send his lackeys out to come and take it.”

“I disagree, Red. With your security gone, that stake is the only thing that will keep him at bay.”

I groaned. “I just want to wash my hands of this mess! Keeping the stake will only keep this nasty wound open.”

His eyes pleaded with me. “If wanting the bogeyman to go away were enough, Vivian wouldn’t have needed to make it in the first place.”

The mood fell from tense to dismal. I rubbed at my brow. There wasn’t enough coffee in the world for a headache and soul-ache like this.

Nana took a second biscuit and put it on the serving plate with what little remained of the omelets. “Menessos is a vampire-wizard, in case you didn’t notice.” Nana’s sarcasm was thick. “And he won’t be restrained by a chant. Not even a full-out spell. Only that stake can stop him.”

Johnny gave me an “I-told-you-so” look.

“I did notice,” I responded irritably. “When I couldn’t stop him from staining me.”

Nana faced me, and all her tiredness had transformed. She was mad. So she was also able to take all her emotions and force them into anger as it suited her. I had a lot of traits like hers. But one I didn’t have: Nana fully pissed off was frightening. She said, “It is a mark you must have.”

“Must have?” Celia choked. “It’s a vampire’s filthy stain, Demeter!”

I winced. Filthy. True, but it still hurt.

Nana said, “If Persephone is the Lustrata, she must have it.”

Now I really, really didn’t want to be the Lustrata.

“Ummm…what’s a ‘lostraduh’?” Theo asked.

“Lus-TRA-ta,” Nana corrected. “She is the one destined to erase the lines drawn between humans and wærewolves, vampires, and witches. The one whose word will be law to the benefit of all.”

“Okay, that’s new,” I mumbled.

“Wait a minute, I’m not following you,” Johnny said. “Why does the Lustrata have to be marked?”

Nana poked at the eggs on her plate. “You know, Persephone, you were named for a goddess.”

I’d been patient with her rambling up until now, but now she was bringing up the meaning of my name? “What does that have to do with being stained?”

“The original Persephone walked in three worlds: the world of the gods, that of humans, and the underworld of the dead. As Lustrata, it is you who must be able to walk between worlds. You are a human and a witch, so you live in this world. You already have a presence in the wære-world through your friends and your column. But you need a mark to have a presence in the vampires’ world. It’s like…like a bus pass.”

My words came slowly, trembling with anger and fear. “I don’t want a presence in their world.”

Hard as nails, the Nana I remembered from my youth said, “What you want has become irrelevant.”

Johnny looked at me as if I had a new horrible disfigurement that revolted him. He left the dining room and stomped through the living room and out my front door. His shadow passed the window as he strode off the porch.