“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…”