In the painting, Ariadne reclined, sleeping, with jaguars at her feet, and in the distant harbor, a boat was sailing away. Though subdued by candlelight, I knew the red of her dress matched my room perfectly. The frame was almost decadent: thick ebony wood with gilded and elaborately carved corners. My poster frames had gold paint on the corners. Menessos's wealth assured the gold on this frame was 24-karat gold leaf.

I thought of the tale… how Ariadne's father, King Minos, demanded as tribute from the Athenian king, Aegeus, seven young men and seven maidens who would be devoured by the monstrous half-man, half-bull Minotaur. Ariadne fell in love with Theseus, the son of Aegeus who had volunteered to be among the sacrificial youth in order to slay the monster. She gave Theseus a spool of thread to help him find his way out of the maze of the Labyrinth where the Minotaur lived. Theseus slew the Minotaur and escaped, taking Ariadne with him to the island of Naxos. There, the gods shrouded his mind and made him forget her. He left while she slept.

I suddenly remembered something: Nana had done a Tarot reading for Johnny and the crossing card, the "current problem," was the King of Wands. On Nana's deck the King of Wands was pictured as Theseus. In my interpretation Menessos was the King of Wands: Theseus.

For Johnny, Menessos was a major problem.

Realizing that Menessos had sent me a painting with a woman who loved Theseus on it, a woman who gave up everything to be with him only to be abandoned, made a chill crawl up my spine.

"Thanks for the ride, man," I heard Johnny say. He and Erik came down the hall.

"No problem."

They stopped at the front door. "Sure you won't stay for a beer?" Johnny whispered the last two words; Nana didn't like the idea of alcoholic beverages in the house, so we kept the beer in the old refrigerator in the garage.

Erik laughed. "Nah. Gotta get home while Celia's still awake or there'll be no sex." I smiled in spite of myself; I was glad my friend was loved.

"Ah," Johnny said appreciatively, peering into the living room at me. "Pleasure with a special someone. Can't say I remember what that's like." He made whining puppy sounds and gave me a sweet, adorable expression.

"Yeah," I said. "I hear it's just like self-pleasure only it's sweatier and it's supposed to take longer, but that's not always the case."

They both cracked up, but I hushed them with a reminder that Beverley and Nana were trying to sleep upstairs.

Erik said, "Good night. I'll see you at Feral's tomorrow for rehearsal." Phil «Feral» Jones was the bassist for Lycanthropia.

"Right. See ya tomorrow." Johnny shut and locked the door. Shortly, Erik's Infiniti started and the gravel in my drive crackled under the tires. With a low rev, he drove away. In the next instant I mentally checked my perimeter wards; all set. I'd increase the perimeter tomorrow.

Johnny stood in the doorway to the living room. The forty-watt hall light silhouetted him as he reached up to place his hands on the molding over the entryway. A physique-enhancing stretch, it made for a very nice silhouette. A handsome darkness, a living shadow, watching me like the savage predator he was deep down inside.

If only Nana hadn't outed me.

The stain I still carried—"a filthy vampire's mark" as Celia had once called it—made me feel repugnant in his sight. That's why I didn't want him to know. I'd wanted him to see me, not the stain.

When I first met Johnny, all I saw was his ominous tattoos, not him. I'd been shallow and unfair. Johnny wasn't either of those, but knowing that the connection between Menessos and me still existed might be more than he could handle.

"Red?"

"Yeah?"

"Demeter has a point."

I hadn't expected the Eximium to still be the subject at hand. "I know." I yawned, then stretched. "I just wish she didn't have to make her points the way she does."

He eased into the living room to share the darkened space with me, but my serene room suddenly felt like a jail cell. He might ease into it, but we were going to talk about my stain. It was unavoidable now.

His hands slipped into his pockets. "I want to start sparring with you."

"You fight a lot?" I asked. Bands, bars, beer, and waerewolves. It wouldn't take much to start an all-out brawl.

"With the exception of that vamp, not lately."

That vamp.

"That wasn't a good example," he said quietly. Johnny hadn't done so well in that fight, but he'd healed in three days. "He's not a normal enemy."

"Master vampire-wizard. No, not exactly an everyday sort of guy."

His shoulders slumped. Johnny seemed to take my words as if I were complimenting the manipulating bastard. Or maybe his ego still smarted remembering how badly he'd been beaten. "We need to make sure you're ready, as the Lustrata, for this contest."

Despite my longing for his touch and knowing how sparring would give us an excuse to be close, I had to admit, "I'm sure there's not going to be hand-to-hand combat in the competition for high priestess."

"I understand that, but the martial arts gives you a mental edge. That couldn't hurt."

"Well, yes, but—"

"When is your Eximium?"

"Starts at dawn this Saturday."

He calculated. "Three days isn't enough time," he whispered as he pulled his hands from his pockets.

"Why do I have to be ready 'as the Lustrata'?"

He came and sat next to me with safe inches between us, hands on his thighs, fingers galloping. "I thought if you knock this other woman out in the early running and then win, you could bow out at the end and announce that you are the Lustrata. Win-win."

My shoulders tensed even tighter. "No. I'm not going to announce anything. Just because I've come to believe it doesn't mean the Elders are just going to accept my word. Anyone could make that claim. Simply claiming to be something doesn't make it true—or you'd have been a mega-rock star a long time ago."

He acquiesced with a grin. "You mean I'm not?"

The glow from the candle warmed the colors of his face and gleamed on the curls of his dark hair. The Wedjat tattoos became less like art and more like shadow.

"You'll have to announce it sometime."

"Why? Why can't I just do this incognito? WEC will probably have some test for me to take as verification or to use as a means to denounce me. Or, worse, they'll examine me like a bug under a microscope. I don't want that, Johnny."

He considered it. "How about we plan to evaluate tomorrow morning, form a plan, and just hit it? With only a few days to consider your strengths and weaknesses, what to do about them, how to approach them, our options are minimal timewise."

I nodded in agreement. Trying to keep the subject off me, I asked, "How do you know so much?"

Johnny tapped his temple. "It's in here. Don't remember where it came from and I can't access my past, but the part that works is filled up with rock'n'roll and the Lustrata." He shook his head. "I've known every minute of every day since I woke in that park, with these tattoos, that I would find the Lustrata. That I would instruct and serve her. That I was… prepared… just for her." His rapacious, masculine expression stole my breath. "For you."

He saw me, and the glistening light of the Lustrata wasn't dimmed knowing I had a stain. Hoping my eyes shone with as much sincerity as his voice held, I said very seriously, "I hope I can appreciate that as much as you deserve."

A boyishly lopsided smile sprang to his face. "I know how you can start."

"Yeah?"

He reached to caress my cheek. "Yeah."

He guided me closer as if I were floating like Aquula—

I jerked away. "Shit!"

Exasperated, Johnny asked, "What now?"

"I forgot to tell you! In the grove, a water-fairy came to me. She warned me. Said three other fairies were plotting against Menessos and might strike at me to get at him. That's who might have been out there in the field tonight." I started to get up. "I'll need to ask Nana tomorrow if anything in the Codex could help and I have to warn Menessos."