Goliath led Johnny backstage. Menessos was following. I remained where I was, unsure of what to do. Mountain—in a tuxedo!—approached me. “Ms. Witch? The Boss will be needing you.”

I took Mountain’s arm and he guided me through the backstage maze to the green room. We arrived as Menessos was opening the door to his private chambers, beneath mine. We all filed through the door. Mountain took up a position outside.

The front chamber had a round stone altar table across from the door and leather seating to the right. The latter seemed designed for private meetings with other members of VEIN. Two plush armchairs sat directly across from each other, while two armless semicircular couches would each accommodate six. The walls were stacked stone. On the back wall, two white marble pillars stood on either side of a wooden door with iron studs set into it.

“Here.” Menessos shoved items from the circular altar. Stones went flying. His athame clattered to the tile floor. A clay goddess statue shattered on the floor. “Place her here.” He cast the altar cloth aside.

Johnny laid Aquula on the stone table. Poisoned purple blood continued oozing from her gills. Menessos adjusted her into a peaceful pose, lovingly folding her fingers together. He lifted her head to remove the pearls and smooth her raven hair, then he bent and kissed her forehead tenderly. When he straightened, he reverently covered her with the silver altar cloth and laid the pearls at her side.

“I have to go,” Johnny whispered again.

“Do you need to change?”

“I don’t have time to change.” He brushed hair from my neck; I felt strands pull, caught in the congealing blood.

He saw Menessos drinking from me. Had he understood?

Or maybe it didn’t matter. He was in anguish, losing someone he cared about. So was Menessos. I wanted to be with them both, to comfort them both. “I want to come with you! But—”

“Will you be okay?”

He would tend his mourning alone. It made me want to go with him all the more.

I nodded. Despite Seven’s objections to my showing affection to Johnny, only Menessos and Goliath were present and they already knew. I pulled him into my arms and hugged him. “Go, Johnny. I’ll be fine.”

“Your car’s in the parking garage. I’m taking the bike. Friday-night traffic . . .”

“I know. Go. It’s all right.”

He kissed me quickly, a mere peck, and left. The music pounded in for an instant, then the door shut with a dull sound. The silence seemed empty and sad.

“What can I do, Master?” Goliath asked.

For several seconds, Menessos did not answer him. We waited. “Persephone, contact Xerxadrea. Tell her what has happened and ask her to come to the Botanical Gardens. Tell her I will prepare the body.”

I removed the protrepticus from the pouch at my waist and opened it.

“What do you need now, little girl?” Samson’s voice grumped.

Peripherally, I detected Goliath’s head snapping toward me.

Oh, damn. I flipped the phone shut. “I should do this in my room, and give you some privacy.” I headed for the door.

Abruptly, Goliath’s wrist encircled my arm and yanked me back. “How is my brother speaking to you?”

“Let go.”

Instead, he jerked me to him. Rage made those forget-me-not eyes glow like an ice-blue neon sign. “How?”

Frightened, my only thought was to make him release me. I envisioned and invoked the power pull on him. Instantly, wind swirled up and energy lifted from deep inside him. Electricity crawled over him as it had crawled over Menessos. The sensation of icy water blasted over me.

Goliath recoiled and stumbled, falling to his knees even as Menessos cried out in pain. I shut it down as quickly as I had invoked it. Both gaped at me, but Goliath’s surprise quickly mutated into malice.

Holy shit! Beau’s charm is a serious talisman of power. It had made my ability to tap that energy instantaneous. “I am Erus Veneficus,” I declared. “You will not touch me without permission.” To Menessos I said, “I will contact Xerxadrea as you have asked. And I will meet you at the gardens.” I left.

If I hurried, I could still catch Johnny. I had just made Menessos’s situation worse with two thoughtless acts. Maybe I could do better for Johnny.

I twisted through the mazelike passageway, and crossed the stage with urgency but refrained from running down the steps. The news crews were still up there. Winding through the dancing crowd—the center aisle was now thick with revelers—I tripped on a chair leg. Damn platform boots. Have to overexaggerate every step!

Someone caught me and I twisted, ready to invoke my power again, but Risqué let go as soon as she had me on my feet. “What’s your hurry? Is the poor waere injured?” she asked, almost shouting to be heard over the music.

“Menessos has set me upon an important task,” I said to Risqué, and hurried on my way.

Just as I burst through the outermost door, a motorcycle zipped past. I ran across the sidewalk, to watch as it rolled up Euclid Avenue. My shoulders slumped.

The motorcycle squealed to a halt in the middle of the street.

Car horns blared. Johnny gave someone the finger as he twisted to see me.

In a heartbeat, he jumped the motorcycle up on the sidewalk and sped back to me. It being Friday evening, there were plenty of pedestrians forced to dash out of his way. He stopped the bike right in front of me. Worried as hell, bloodied and grieving, time pressing, he’d nonetheless spent the seconds to fetch me.

“You came back.”

“Look at you, Little Red Riding Hood. What Big Bad Wolf wouldn’t want those long legs wrapped around him?”

The people he nearly ran over had stopped to stare at us. I threw my leg over the bike—as modestly as possible—and sat. As Johnny pulled out onto the street, the same pedestrians cheered.

Sitting at a red light, I got out the protrepticus again. As soon as it opened, Samson scolded me. “That was rude, little girl.”

“Can it, Sam. I haven’t got time. Get Xerxadrea for me.” He grumbled, and I shouted, “Now! And it better be a private line.”

The next thing I knew, the Eldrenne said, “Yes?”

“Can I talk freely?”

“This time, yes.”

I relayed Menessos’s message. “I’m with Johnny right now. We want to join you at the Botanical Gardens, but I don’t know how long we’ll be. Can you guess how long it will take for Menessos to prepare the body?”

“An hour at best, two at worst. I will contact you when I am leaving.”

“Good enough for me,” I said. Seeing the light change, I added, “Gotta go,” and shut the phone just as Johnny accelerated. It was cold to be on the motorcycle in the thin, small pieces of fabric I wore, so I kept the length of the cape around me and safely away from the wheels. I used the time to try and form a strategy for dealing with Goliath.

Menessos had enough pain at the moment, and I hadn’t meant to hurt him more by hurting someone bound to him. The power that came with mastery was frightening, let alone amping it up with Beau’s charm. I had to think it through before I acted again.

The Dirty Dog was closed and dark. Johnny turned the Night Train into a narrow alley and parked in the rear of the bar. I unstraddled and followed him. Inside, we marched up the narrow stairwell again and approached the door.

This time, there was no need to knock; the door stood open. One table lamp brightened the tall room, but failed at making it cheery or homey. It had been a dark room during the day when we’d visited, but in the night, that one necessary light illumined what the sun could not. And that was a shame. The dust covered the mantel like a sheer cloth. Soot tags waved in the air like willow fronds. And the couch, so close to the light, was revealed to be not a patterned fabric, but a solid and threadbare one.