Bite (Vampire Hunter 8.5)

A burst of heat blazed against his back. Hell, another one already. Galahad ducked, glancing around for his new foe.

“Ooops!” Caroline called, a second fireball floating in her hand. “Sorry!”

“Watch it!” he growled and returned his attention to his opponent.

But the vampire had taken advantage of his instant’s distraction to create a sword and armor. The priest now wore a suit of iridescent black mail, swinging the sword with skillful rotations of one wrist. Gierolf must have magically taught his worshipers how to use a blade; most moderns barely knew hilt from point.

Galahad wasn’t worried. No spell could match his sixteen hundred years as a swordsman.

The only question was—how long before the rest of the cultists arrived?

CAROLINE watched anxiously, looking for an opening. The two vampires were so fast, she was afraid to try another shot for fear of hitting Galahad again.

Besides, he didn’t seem to need the help. The knight moved in an oiled blur of gold, battering at his opponent with flashing strokes of his sword.

There! They’d whirled apart.

Magic rushed down her arm, tingling and stinging to coalesce in a white-hot ball. She hurled it at the priest with all the force she could muster. He screamed, the sound blending with an outraged female shriek.

“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.