My shoulders slumped. I turned back to the lake and stared at the long and choppy reflection of the moon. I wished I'd had my shoes on when I sat down to meditate. If I'd been wearing them there, I'd be wearing them here and I could kick a rock into the water. I was sure it would make me feel a little bit better.

After a few minutes of silence, Amenemhab asked, "Is the choice so difficult?"

"Well, I can pick very bad, or very, very bad."

"Ahhh. I see. Tell me more."

I glanced back at him. He'd lain down. His getting comfortable meant he was willing to hear me out. All the way out. Damn it. I bent over and picked up a handful of stones. I threw the first of them at the water. And the second. Frustrated, I dropped the rest and stomped away from the shore, flopping down to sit beside the jackal.

"Why did you stop?"

"I can't see where they land."

"So?"

I pulled my knees up and wrapped my arms around them. "It's pointless."

"I don't understand."

"I dunno. There's something satisfying about seeing the ripples and in the dark my eyes can't even detect where the rock landed."

His ears pricked forward. "But you know the rock hit the water. You heard the splash. You know the ripples had to occur."

"But I can't see them." I shook my head. "We shouldn't get sidetracked anyway. We need to talk about the choice."

"We are."

I faced him squarely.

He copied the move. "The ripples you're causing on the darkened surface may be lost to your eyes in this dim light, and they may seem insignificant compared to the natural and relentless ebb and flow . . . but you are aiming for the lake and I guarantee you are hitting it."

In my deepest self, the metaphor struck a chord. I scrutinized the surface of the lake. "My dark destiny is flowing and I'm helpless to stop it."

"Of course you are. That's rather inherent in the word 'destiny.' Why would you even try to stop it?"

I ground my teeth. Every word here was telling. Even if I didn't want them to be.

"I told you it would only get harder."

That was true. The last time I'd spoken with him, I'd had a decision to make. His advice then was Cor aut Mors. Heart or Death. A choice between the morals and loyalty of the heart, and the insignificance and disgrace of death.

That choice between loyalty and disgrace had been easy to make. This time, however, the choice was not so clear-cut.

Choosing to do things my own way could entangle everyone I cared for and, as Creepy implied, eventually put them in danger. That was what I wanted to avoid. I already carried some hefty guilt; many had died since this whole thing began and it was likely the death toll would continue to rise.

Choosing Creepy's way would doubtless keep my loved ones safe, but I probably wouldn't like his method of securing their safety. It'd turn into something I would feel guilty about.

"You are who you are as well, Persephone. You have the strength you need. And the drive. And the intelligence. Cast away your doubts like the pebbles they are. Let them sink to the bottom; they will never amass into anything that can stop you."

I faced him again.

"A million pebbles will not significantly alter the lake."

"Are you saying my worries about this choice are irrelevant?"

"I am saying that the choice itself is like deciding between two routes to the same destination. One is longer and smoother than the other, but both will get you there."

"Do I have time for the longer, smoother road?"

"The shorter route is more difficult. The time equals out and the choice is more balanced than you know."

"Then, what's the catch?"

"Each road has a separate toll; the imbalance exists in the price that you must pay. Focus not on the choice, but on what it costs you. It is that which you must weigh carefully."

Yeah. Creepy's services weren't going to be free.

"Now, Persephone, let me tell you a little about the art of negotiation. . . . "

CHAPTER THIRTY.

With that solid wood table leg-thicker than a baseball bat and having a square block at the top-Mero had delivered a blow that would have killed a normal man, a blow that should have critically injured any waerewolf.

He could not believe what he was seeing. Before him, the creature gathered itself to stand. Its body re-shifted as it rose, growing broader and taller, exceeding the mass of any waerewolf Mero had ever seen. Only in the woodcut illustrations of ancient texts had he ever seen a creature so menacingly blended. This was part man with every sinew thickened, and part beast, black furred and feral. It stood on two legs, on enormous paws, and the arms ended in hands with thick claws. The head was wider than that of a natural wolf, and dark as pitch except for the pale yellow eyes glowing like coals in a hearth. The long ears were twisted angrily back. Slavering jaws opened. Saliva dripped from black lips that curled to reveal fangs longer and sharper than any vampire's. A guttural snarl filled the room.

Domn Lup.

He had read the legends that said the King of Wolves could take this form. He had never thought to see it with his own eyes.

He held his ground.

She must be taken to the Excelsior. She must become Wolfsbane.

Mero hefted the table leg in his right hand, and readied a white-hot orb in his left.

The waere lunged. Mero swung the wood for another upper-cut impact. The Domn Lup veered left to avoid the strike, then swiped a large paw, hitting the leg hard and giving it more follow-through than Mero was prepared for.

Persephone was not far behind him and he worried that the clublike weapon might strike her. He fought the momentum and held the searing orb out in front, letting arcs of heat whip out to keep the wolf back. He had to get this fight away from her before either of them accidentally broke her circle, or worse, hurt her.

He regained control of the heavy table leg, and, grip firmer, swung it in a downward angle. The beast had to hop back, but leapt forward immediately after. Mero loosed an orb. It hit the waere in the shoulder. As the beast cried out, Mero fled into the hall; the narrow space would be a disadvantage to the big creature.

When he neared the front door and the space widened at the bottom of the staircase, Mero spun around and raised his weapon.

But the creature had not followed behind him.

The attack came from the side, out of the darkened living room.

Johnny barely had to think. The beast's instincts worked faster than his brain could process words, let alone dictate commands preemptively. He avoided the overhead swing of the club and attacked. A ball of lightning heat crashed into his shoulder and he roared in pain.

The prey ran.

Impulsively, the beast moved to follow.

No. Johnny willed the beast to see the other route through the house. It complied.

Leaping from the doorway, he pounced. The vampire faced him at the last second and he knocked him down before the staircase. The beast drew back, teeth bared, ready to kill. He brought his toothy maw down . . . on a scalding orb.

Howling, he jerked back.

The vampire sat up and slammed the club against Johnny's head. Wrapping his claws around the offending object, he tried to wrench it from Mero's grasp. They struggled for several seconds, but as Johnny was atop the vamp, leverage won out. He jerked the table leg free, raised it high, and brought it down toward his prey's head.

A bolt of light slammed into the weapon, knocking it aside at the last moment and jerking it down to embed it into the floor.

Mero hit him with another bolt of energy.

Johnny pulled on the club. He yanked on it-but it was stuck fast.

Mero wriggled in an effort to get away. Johnny stomped a huge paw onto his chest. His prey could not escape, but he pummeled Johnny with blast after blast. He held fiery orbs against his legs. Johnny tore the club free and readied it again.

Another blast diverted it a second time-this time hitting his arms with enough force that he ripped through the oak handrail and spindles of the staircase.

Seeing the destruction he was wreaking on Red's house, Johnny felt remorse, but the beast saw more weapons. Sharp, wooden weapons. He dropped the club and snapped a broken spindle off at the base. His claws turned the pointy end down.

A stake.

He dropped to his knees, aiming the point at Mero's heart.

The vamp clasped Johnny's forearms, holding him back, but Johnny could feel the trembling in his prey's limbs. He was stronger, heavier, more physically powerful than the vamp. He had only to keep the pressure on. He growled and watched thick saliva drip on his prey's face.

Arcs of energy crawled along his skin, hotter and hotter until the reek of burning hair and skin filled his nostrils. Still, he would not be deterred. This vamp was in Red's house, trying to take her, and she was unresponsive and defenseless. Johnny would not fail her again.

He shoved on the stake and felt the tip rip fabric, felt it pierce skin. Mero gave a desperate scream. The burning redoubled on Johnny's furred arms and then, from behind, someone shouted, "Sire! No!"

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE.

Ailo took a step and nearly fell. Talto rushed toward her. With her sister's arm supporting her, Ailo found walking much easier. They made it to the door. Talto looked back. "You come with us, Sil."

"Why?" Ailo asked. "She needs to-"

"We need time," Talto explained. "Get back to kissing the guard," she added over her shoulder to Silhouette.

The sisters were down the stairs and stumbling toward the entry when they heard the clacking sound of Risque's heels. Talto spun around, pulling Ailo with her as if to watch the striptease Silhouette had started for the guard.

Risque traipsed into the room and stopped dead.

"What gives, Sil?"

Both the Offerling and the guard jerked at the sound of her voice. "Why aren't you with the kid?"

Silhouette didn't answer, but she did move away from the guard.

Risque stomped forward and grabbed the discarded shirt from the floor. "I'll be damned if I'm gonna wear a shirt and let you streak around here. What if Goliath saw you?"

Risque turned back toward the doorway. Seeing Ailo and Talto loitering a few feet within the room, she scowled. "You two can go do your voyeuristic skulking somewhere else." She pointed at the doorway.

Ailo pulled Talto with her and moved for the door. She felt her sister's thoughts via her grip on Talto's arm and knew the youngest had stuck her tongue out at Risque. Ailo stopped short of passing through the doorway and watched what happened.

"Seriously, Vinny. Don't let them loiter like that," Risque said.

He glanced at his phone. "Don't let who loiter?"

Risque rolled her eyes. To Sil, she said, "Next time an Offerling wants to waste my time, you tell them to kiss off."

Sil's expression dropped into confusion. "She said it was important."

"She was wrong. I assume the kid is still out?"

"She didn't make a sound."

"Like you'd know from down here." Muttering not quite under her breath, Risque stomped up the steps to the court witches' suite and punched in the code.

Ailo put to memory the pattern that unlocked the door. Only then did she follow Talto across the stage.

"Did you find out what gift the girl received?" Talto asked.

Ailo nodded gravely. "The girl is a ward-breaker."

"Ward-breaker," Talto repeated in a whisper. "Amazing. She's . . . she's . . . invaluable."

"She's a tool," Ailo said sharply. "Nothing more. Menessos did this for a reason."