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.”