Read Online Fatal Circle by Linda Robertson - Free Book Online Page A

revealed in the rearview mirror, he innocently asked, “What?”
    “I am not your chauffeur. Get up front.”
    “I’m sorry, Persephone. Habit.” He settled into the passenger seat.
    At the end of the drive, I flashed my lights at the pair of silhouettes on the porch waving. “To I-71, right?” My voice was thick, still fighting tears. Damn it. Enough with the weepiness shit!
    “Yes.” It soon became clear that Menessos only gave directions on an “as needed” basis—which also kept the car uncomfortably silent. His method, though not very satisfactory to my detail-seeking self, would still get us there.
    I considered my present state. This can’t be hormones. My Depo-Provera shot isn’t due until Yule. The nurse, aware of the timing, had teased about it being my gift to myself. This is just an outlet for stress. Don’t think about it as leaving home. Talk about something, anything! Shoving that emotion away, I asked, “Is there an Internet connection at the haven that I can access to do my column?” I’d packed my laptop.
    “Yes. High-speed Wi-Fi. You are welcome to use my desktop if you’d care to.”
    About to insist that I didn’t want to impose, I stopped myself. Do masters worry over imposing upon a servant? I wondered if strong emotions made one a terrible master.
    “Thanks. I’m used to the laptop.”
    More silence.
    “Tell me about your vampires,” I asked.
    “All vampires . . . all of them, everywhere, are mine. My curse has become theirs. And I mourn for them as equally as I delight in them. They are my children’s children’s children.”
    I took a breath in order to rephrase.
    “Do not misunderstand,” he went on, “I never created life in the womb of a woman. But I brought forth my kind with a relentless and undeniable seed. It brings death and rebirth into a new kind of life. And yet as I watch them, my offspring, so many of them waste the gift they have been given.”
    I felt like I should cue Bach’s “Toccata and Fugue in D Minor” after that little speech. I tried again: “I meant the vampires at your new haven. What’s it like?”
    He sulked for a heartbeat or two. “Masters run their havens like mini-kingdoms. Their word is law. Not all observe the same laws, however. In my private haven, none are allowed to spoil the gift they have received. You will find evidence of my dominance, but . . .”
    “But?”
    “I care for them. Genuinely. I believe most of them truly care for me.”
    It is like meeting his family. He didn’t elaborate further, so I asked, “What are your laws?”
    “My laws are based on respect for and compliance with my supreme authority.” He twisted to face me. “I believe you are beginning to understand how the people around someone with power come to expect things of that someone. And not just trivial things . They expect protection, they seek their leader’s favor. My laws are simple and firm, my rewards are quick and generous.” With wry pleasure he added, “And I do enjoy being in charge.”
    That didn’t surprise me at all. What did surprise me were his directions right to Public Square, the center of downtown Cleveland.
    “I’m better acquainted with the history of Chicago and New York, but I am told that in the light of day you can still see the letters spelling out ‘May Company’ atop this building.”
    “Your haven is in an old department store?”
    “Technically yes, but specifically no.”
    “What the hell does that mean?”
    “The department store was ground level and several stories up. This particular building, interestingly enough, goes deep into the ground, more than you might expect. Do you know the local history?”
    “Not really.”
    “Care to venture a guess at what is down there?”
    “Subway tunnels?” I don’t want to live in tunnels and room with rats.
    “No. Beneath is a long-neglected theater, barely more than a ruin. We are, of course, modifying it to accommodate our needs. It would have been a