Hallowed Circle by Linda Robertson

Author:Linda Robertson [Robertson, Linda]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub, pdf
ISBN: 9781439156780
Amazon: 1439156786
Publisher: Bill
Published: 0101-01-01T08:00:00+00:00

Chapter 18

"Blood Oath!" Desdemona whispered. The other Elders took up the words and repeated them until they had a soft chant, each hammering their staff when they said "oath."

Menessos lifted his arm and bared his wrist.

The Eldrenne took his hand in both of hers. With a cry of victory, she shoved it upward as her raven swooped in. The bird beat its wings and hovered in the air, talons raking his skin over and over.

"By my blood," he said, standing calmly while the bird tore his flesh open. "I am here to harm none. I am here to participate fairly in your Eximium. And I am here to give you this moment, Xerxadrea. Let your bitterness be gone."

When the bird flew away and returned to rest on the high back of her throne, the Eldrenne pulled a black handkerchief from the folds of her robes and covered his forearm with it. She whispered and chanted words I could not make out. When she was done, she said over her shoulder, "Contestants to the kitchen to wait. You will be called shortly for the next lottery."

I was so glad for the chance to remove myself from Menessos's presence I had to force myself to keep to a sedate pace and not to run to the stairs and out of the hall.

The six of us had to grope most of our way to the kitchen in the dark. The candles in the wall geodes had either burned out or were unlit. We had only the fluorescent glow from the open kitchen door to guide us. I wondered where the police—and the portable lights they'd brought in to illuminate the alcove—had gone.

Between the walk in the dark, the scene we'd just witnessed, and the insecurity aroused by the combination of death, drama, and vampire presence, the six of us seemed somewhat shell-shocked.

Holly was the first to speak. She opened the refrigerator and, seeing apples, asked if anyone else wanted one. No one took her up on it.

"Coffee?" I asked. That's what I wanted.

"Good idea," Maria said, and came to help me while the others took seats at one of the long tables.

"Damn, but that was intense," said Lehana, sinking onto a folding chair. She spoke with an accent more pronounced than Suzanne's.

"Is that Jamaican?" Holly asked. I turned, thinking she was inquiring about the coffee I was spooning into the filter, but saw she was intent on Lehana.

"No. Haitian."

Holly rummaged in the drawer for a knife and took it to the table where she began neatly slicing her apple. Maybe she was too young to understand the glory of good coffee. Then I realized she had just armed herself with a sharp knife. Again.

"So what flavor is your witchcraft?" Hunter asked.

"Why do you ask?" Lehana asked back, her manner cool but her eyes darkly serious.

Maria and I exchanged wary glances.

Hunter shrugged. "Just curious."

Lehana stood and peered down at Hunter, who sat across from her. "You think I am a Vodoun, a priestess of

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