Shattered Circle by Linda Robertson Page B

have a binding upon you. If I free you, Menessos will follow.
    Talto began sobbing.
    Liyliy shushed her. Do not fear, little one. Listen to me. I must leave before they put a binding upon me and doom us all.
    Ailo told her Menessos was not there. I saw him leave in a hurry earlier. To my knowledge he has not returned.
    Liyliy asked why he had left. Ailo told her she had not been able to find out.
    Still, Mero may be working on a means to bind me this very second, so I dare not linger. I will remain in contact via the phones, which you must keep secret. I will get you out, but I need you to be my eyes and ears inside the haven for now. We must tear them apart, weaken them as they have sought to weaken us. You understand this, yes?
    “Yes,” Talto whispered.
    “Ailo?”
    “Yes. And I have an idea.”
    Liyliy and Talto let her grasp their hands. She shut her eyes, and power flowed around her. Liyliy felt the energy reaching out, striving to touch something that was both deep within and far away . . . the binding. Liyliy listened inwardly and Ailo’s silent plea echoed into her mind.
    She was searching for Menessos, reaching back along the bond imposed on her, stretching. She sought him out, eager to report to Liyliy what he was doing.
    Ailo found him . . . but he was not alone.
    He was performing magic—a heady, dynamic magic—and it felt familiar, like an ancient memory.
    Recognition burst into their minds as one.
    By the gods, he’s doing it again, Liyliy thought. We must use this.

CHAPTER TWELVE
    I t was barely six thirty and the day’s light had almost entirely faded as I slid my satellite phone into my pocket. After I’d finished my call to Menessos, Johnny’s text arrived—I was grateful for the distraction. He’d simply said he was on his way. Then my Great Dane, Ares, burst from the field and raced toward me in the grove. He was still pushing through the branches when Mountain emerged from the same spot the dog had. “Did you find her?” he asked.
    “No,” Zhan answered for me. “She’s gone into the ley.”
    Mountain scratched his head. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”
    Everyone faced me, waiting for the answer. Looking at her empty little shoes made my legs weak and rubbery, but I was trying to reason this all through. “Bad,” I said. “I think.”
    “Explain.”
    “Witches use sorcery to tap into a line. It’s dangerous and painful . . . and, truly, we have to be very careful to not get sucked in.”
    “So she was sucked in,” Celia said through her tears.
    There were horror stories about such things. Witches of “ye olde times” who disappeared were often thought to have been dabbling in sorcery and fallen into the ley. Especially if items left on their altars could support suchtheories. But I had always regarded those tales as exaggerations meant to steer curious young witches back to their craft studies, much like tales of the bogeyman warned children not to venture from their beds at night.
    “Explain how you use this board to tap the ley line,” Zhan said.
    “I’m not sure. When I tap it, I do it directly, without an ancillary device.”
    “Is the board significant, then?” She began pacing. “Is there a clue in it? Did that make it easier or harder to get sucked in? And does it hold an option for us—or rather, you —to bring her back out through it?”
    My mouth opened but nothing came out.
    All these rapid-fire questions bordered on an understandable panic, feeding my fears, but I couldn’t think clearly like this. I had to push the emotion away and concentrate.
    My eyes locked on Great El’s slate. The symbols painted on it were eerily bright in the darkness as I considered it.
    Tapping a ley line directly was certainly more dangerous, and potent, than using a device to filter it. Direct access left nothing to keep a witch from falling into the ley except the barriers inherent in a physical being touching a nonphysical world. I thought of it as an