"Bitch!"
A weight slammed into her back, knocking her flat on her face. Stunned, disoriented--where the hell had that come from?--Caroline felt something jerk off her helmet. She twisted around and threw up an arm just in time to block the fist coming at her head.
Britney Spears was sitting on her back.
Actually, it just looked like Britney. Blond, so young she could have been a cheerleader on the team Caroline advised. But her face was twisted like something out of a horror flick, and fangs filled her open mouth in curving spikes.
"You hurt my dad!" she hissed, fingers fisting in Caroline's hair. "I'm going to rip out your fuckin' throat and use the power to kill your boyfriend!" Fangs gaping, she bent toward Caroline's exposed throat.
"Get off!" Caroline grabbed for the power, twisted around, and shoved her fist into the girl's open mouth. Fangs raked her knuckles, but she ignored the sting and sent raw energy shooting down her arm.
The blast picked the girl up and threw her across the room like a straw in a hurricane. She didn't even scream as she hit the stone floor with a meaty thud.
Heart pounding, Caroline scrambled to her feet. The girl didn't move.
Swallowing, Caroline edged closer, only to recoil in horror. The kid was burned black, flesh seared to charcoal by that panicked blast. "Oh, Jesus."
"That your first?" Galahad asked, rough sympathy in his voice.
Unable to speak, she turned. He stood looking at her, his sword dripping blood. At his feet lay the priest, his body oddly stunted. It took her a moment to realize the object lying a few feet away wasn't the man's helmet.
It was his head.
Caroline whirled away and almost stepped on the girl she'd killed. She clamped both hands over her mouth and closed her eyes, fighting the rise of vomit.
"Shit," Galahad growled, his voice grim.
Mechanically, she turned her back on the body and opened her eyes. He was staring at the fountain.
Geirolf's Grail had disappeared.
5
"WHAT the hell happened to the cup?" Galahad growled, glaring at the empty clawed hand still gushing faux blood. "I know I kept that priest too busy to do anything with it."
"The girl must have transported it away before she attacked me," Caroline said, raking a shaking hand through her hair. She carefully did not look at either of the corpses.
He cursed in a language that sounded vaguely like Latin. "Is there any chance it's still in this complex?"
Caroline closed her eyes and concentrated, searching for the slightly greasy mental impression the cup had given her. Nothing. She swore in frustration and opened her eyes. "She must have sent it to her vampire buddies."
"Not necessarily. I've known Majae to create magical shields so strong, you could stand right next to it and not know it was there. We're going to have make a fast search." He turned toward the nearest of two corridors into the chamber. "And while we're at it, we need to make sure there's nobody else lurking around."
"I'm not picking up anybody."
Galahad jerked a thumb at the bodies. "You didn't sense them either, but they were sure as hell here."
That stung. "I'm sorry. I guess I screwed up."
He sighed and flipped up his visor. "No, that was uncalled-for. They probably gated in behind us. Either way, we're both still alive and two of the bad guys are dead. You didn't freeze when I was hit; you stepped in and started defending me. That was damn good for a first fight."
Unwillingly, her eyes tracked toward the burned and twisted body of the girl. "Yeah. Real good."
Galahad followed her gaze. "She'd have killed you, Caroline."
"She was trying to defend her father." She forced an insouciant shrug. "But hey, one less murdering vamp, right? Besides, she reminded me way too much of some of my bitchier cheerleaders."
"Cheerleaders?" He sheathed his sword. The blade scraped against the leather sliding in, the cave giving it a sinister echo.
"I'm a teacher. I was the squad advisor last year." Caroline's gaze drifted toward the girl's body before she snatched it away. "Did I tell you I was captain of my college cheerleading squad? We went state champion one year. I shake a mean pom-pom."
Galahad gave her a long, level look before stooping to pick up her fallen helm. "The first time you're forced to kill is never easy, but she didn't give you a choice."
"Not buying the act, huh?"
"No." He flipped up her visor so he could meet her eyes. "Whether she was defending her father or not, she wasn't blameless. You told me yourself that they murdered four people for the magic to build this complex. She was part of that. And judging by the way she tried to rip out your throat, I doubt she was as an innocent bystander."
Caroline shook her head. "I know, but..."
"Remember the string of cult murders earlier this year? The poisonings, the bombings, the mutilations? She and her fellow cultists did all that to provide Geirolf with the power he used to damn near wipe out Magekind. She had it coming."
"She could have been one of my students, Galahad."
"Klebold and Harris were kids, too, but that didn't stop them at Columbine."
She swallowed. The stench of burned flesh was making her queasy. "I know, but this is going to bother me for a long time."
"It's always going to bother you. You never forget the first one."
"That wasn't what I was hoping to hear, Galahad."
"What can I say? I'm like Superman--I'm always honest." He grinned. "Except when I lie."
She snorted, reluctantly amused. He was entirely too damn charming for her peace of mind. "Oh, that's comforting."
"I know." He clapped his mailed hands. "Okay, break's over. We need to find that cup and gate out of here before dawn. I figure we've got maybe two hours before the sun rises."
"We're underground. What difference does it make? It's not like you'd ignite. Dominic said that's a myth, like the thing about crosses and garlic."
"He left a few details out. No, I don't burst into flame, but when the sun comes up, I loose consciousness, and there's not a damn thing I can do about it."
"Well, that makes about as much sense as screen doors on a submarine. Why?"
He shrugged. "It's got something to do with absorbing energies from the Mageverse. Point is, I don't want to be here when that happens. If that cup's here, we need to find it. Now."
She sighed and snapped her visor closed. "You're the boss."
"You bet your tight little ass I am. And I'm telling you to get it moving." Drawing his sword again, he turned to lead the way down the nearest corridor. "Stay close."
THE good news was that they found no other vampires in the complex. The bad news was that they didn't find Geirolf's Grail either. Under Galahad's direction, Caroline scanned the walls and furniture carefully with a spell that was the magical equivalent of an X ray. She found nothing other than a nauseating collection of photographs in a drawer, apparently souvenirs from the cult's murders. The girl who'd attacked her held the knife in one of them, blood-spattered and smirking.
Caroline started feeling better about killing her.
The complex itself was laid out around a single cavernous central chamber like the hub of a wheel. Corridors spoked out to smaller chambers, most of them dormitories, though one was a den complete with a television set, an entertainment center, and a wide selection of porn DVDs. Galahad made a show of looking through them with such exaggerated lechery Caroline had to laugh.
But any amusement died a quick death when they stepped into the central chamber.
Galahad's vampire nose detected the reek of decayed blood coming from the pentagram-shaped altar that dominated the room. He turned just in time to catch Caroline as she staggered. Her open visor revealed a face as pale as paper.
"Death." Huge dark eyes met his. "I saw this. I saw this room. And now I see..." She gagged. "Oh, man, that's just disgusting. What is it with these people?"
"They're assholes?"
"Nah, that's
an insult to assholes everywhere." She reached up and dragged off her helm. "Look, this is a waste of time. Geirolf's Grail isn't here, and neither are the vamps--thank God. I've scanned every inch of this place, and there's nothing. Besides, if anybody was here, they'd have jumped us by now."
Frustrated, Galahad glared around at the surrounding walls. "Then where are they? It's barely an hour until dawn. The cultists sleep during the day just like I do."
"Which means they'll be back any minute."
"That, or they'll go to ground somewhere else. Either way, I'm not waiting around to get ambushed. Look, could you work a spell to keep them out of here?"
Caroline's silky brows pulled together. "If I do that, they're going to know we're onto them."
"They'll figure that one out when they see the two bodies. Assuming Teen Bitch didn't just send them the cup and telepathically tell them what was going on."
"But if she did, why didn't they come back and blast us? Something else is going on here." She frowned and scratched her forehead through her open visor. "Think they've just decided to abandon the complex and build another one?"
"But you saw us fighting a whole bunch of them here in that vision. So they're going to come back." He drummed his mailed fingers on the hilt of his sword. "Tell you what. Set a spell to let you know when they return--without alerting them--get rid of the bodies, and gate us out of here. We'll come back when we've got reinforcements. Or at least a better idea what the fuck is going on."
"So what are we going to do in the meantime?"
"Get some sleep. It's not as if I've got a hell of a lot of choice."
THE priest was dead.
Marilyn Roth realized he was gone as she rose from the body of the rival cultist she'd just killed. His gnawing presence had vanished from her mind like a toothache. She licked the blood from her lips and grinned in pure, savage joy.
Alan Grange was dead, stripped of his stolen power, unable to dominate or abuse her any longer. She was free. Free to take control of his cult and enjoy all the benefits leadership would give her: safety and power and the fear of those beneath her.
And she had no intention of losing the opportunity his death gave her.
Her eyes tracked across the battlefield, where Alan's lieutenant was busy raping the leader of the eco-terrorists. Apparently Steve hadn't yet realized the priest was dead.
Good.
She plucked the blade from the heart of her victim and started toward him, detouring around a battling knot of vampires. She glanced at them long enough to make sure her people were winning. They were, so she kept going.
So much for the would-be grail thieves.
Just that night before, Alan announced he'd had a vision another cult had learned they had one of the cups. They'd all known what that meant.
War.
Only last month, all the cults had been united under Geirolf's leadership. That had ended when the demon god died and the vampires were forcibly scattered by Geirolf's lieutenant.
They didn't stay scattered. It wasn't long before the cult leaders started searching out their original members. Alan had been one of them, armed with the stolen Grail he intended to use in creating fresh recruits.
Unfortunately, he wasn't the only ambitious priest with that thought. Anybody who had a grail was trying to hang onto it, while groups without a cup were trying to take one by force.
So far, Alan's cult had successfully defended its grail against another Satanist cult and a group of white supremacists. Next had come this bunch of eco-loonies who'd thought Earth would be just perfect without all the people on it.
Alan's decision to hit their would-be invaders first had handed them a victory, but they'd still lost several warriors in the process. Marilyn figured she was going to have to do something about recruitment as soon as she took care of Alan's second-in-command.
Of course, once Steve Jones was attended to, she'd have to deal with his supporters, not to mention whomever had killed the priest himself. That last might be a problem, since Alan had gasped something about the grail just before he gated away with his daughter.
But first things first.
Marilyn stepped up behind Jones as he pumped between his victim's thighs. She tapped him on the shoulder, the knife hidden by her side. "Oh, Steve," she purred, "I hate to interrupt..."
6
"IT'S a good thing I'm not afraid of heights." Caroline stepped up to the edge of Galahad's bedroom and looked out over the moonlit mountains. She'd gated them there after he showed her a mental image of where he wanted to go.
Compared to the villas, chateaus, and castles of Avalon, Galahad's home was an exercise in minimalism. The semi-circular room jutted out from the face of a vertical cliff to hang, unsupported, a dizzying distance from the ground. It had no apparent walls other than the cliff itself--and, for that matter, no ceiling either.
That was an illusion, however. She could sense the magical barrier that protected the room emanating from runes cut into the stone. Nothing could get in he didn't want in.
She had to admit, the room suited him. The rough granite wall seemed a reflection of Galahad's uncompromising strength, just as his sensuality was reflected by the circular bed draped in white silk.
A heavy walnut armoire stood off to one side of the bed, its dark, gleaming wood heavily carved with more of those runes. She wondered what enchantment they cast--a cleanliness spell? An anti-wrinkle charm? Probably, since it was a good bet Galahad didn't do laundry.
Noticing a low, musical tinkle, Caroline looked around to see a little waterfall flowing through an opening in the cliff. It splashed down over the rocks to flow past the bed and into a tiny pool surrounded by plants and vines growing from niches in the stone. Other openings glowed with some kind of magical illumination that provided a soft, dim light.
Two rock doorways cut into either side of the cliff wall. Stepping over to one, she saw stairs leading downward. "Where do these go?"
Galahad dropped onto the bed and twisted around to reach into one of the stone niches. He pulled out a bottle and a couple of glasses. "There are two more floors below--a pool room and a library."
Caroline turned to look at him. "That's it? In the whole house?"
He shrugged, pouring the contents of the bottle into the glasses. "Hey, what else do I need? I don't eat anything that's not in the magic wet bar here. Any visitors who need something more substantial are probably Majae, and they can conjure their own food."
"You've got a point." She crossed the room to look down. Jutting from the cliff thirty feet below and off to the left was another circular platform. A pool shimmered in the center of it, its surface rippling from the waterfall tumbling down the cliff to splash into one end. "I've got to admit, this is impressive."
"Morgana built it for me." He walked over and handed her a glass.
Caroline took it. "How'd you get her to do that?"
"We were lovers at the time."
"You banged the dragon lady? You are brave."
"That's exactly what my brother knights said." He smiled a little dryly and took a sip. "We lasted an entire decade before I managed to piss her off. I still hold the record for longest-running relationship with Morgana Le Fay."
"Hey, better than I did with Dominic." Caroline swallowed a mouthful from her own glass, shuddered at the taste, and turned it into Pepsi. "Do you always drink like this?"
Galahad shot her a look. "I'm a vampire, Caroline. The only drinking problem I have is making sure I've got a date on Saturday night."
"You silver-tongued romantic, you."
His smile was wicked. "I didn't hear you complaining."
Caroline turned to watch as he walked back across the room in that muscular, long-legged stalk of his. Damn, the man looked good even wearing more metal than a can of tuna.
It was probably just as well it was so close to dawn. Given her romantic track record, it probably wouldn't be a good idea to yield to Galahad's potent temptation.
He sa
nk down on the bed and slumped, looking tired. "Can you help me with my armor? I doubt I have time to take it all off before the sun comes up."
"Sure. Where do you want it?"
He gestured vaguely. "Over there's fine."
Caroline cast a quick spell, and the suit vanished from his body to take up residence in a neat pile. Her own joined it an instant later.
Galahad looked down at the pair of silk pajama bottoms she'd given him to replace it. "Nice. Thanks." He rubbed absently at his chest. "And I'm clean, too. Aren't you efficient?"
She shrugged and straightened the hem of her own cotton pajamas. "That's the nice thing about magic. It's a great time-saver."
As he rose to pull down the covers, it suddenly occurred to her there was only one bed. But before any real alarm could set in, she got a good look at his back and forgot about everything else. A rainbow of scrapes and bruises decorated his ribs. "What happened to you?"
He glanced up at her as he slid under the covers. "Got into a fight with a pedophile earlier tonight. Bastard had an axe. Armor kept it from cutting me in half, but the impact was a bitch." A pained grunt escaped him as he lay back.
Concerned, Caroline crossed the room to his side, frowning. "You want me to heal that?"
He shrugged. "My body will take care of it by sunset. It's one of the few kinds of magic I do have."
"But you're hurting now. Let me fix it." She could see the pain in his eyes, and it bothered her.
Reaching out a hand, Caroline rested her fingers against the side of his face and reached for her magic. Carefully, she sent it into him in the same gentle stream she used tending her own aches, seeking out his injuries and healing them. As she watched, the bruises faded and disappeared.
He sighed and relaxed. "Thanks."
Caroline shrugged and dropped her hand, feeling oddly shy. "Least I could do after you helped me with Father Fang and Teen Bitch."
"My pleasure, more or less." Galahad settled back against the mound of pillows. "You know, there's more than room enough for two in here."
"Honey, there's room enough for the Washington Red-skins in that bed."
"Now there is a thoroughly unpleasant image."