Blood Wyne (Otherworld/Sisters of the Moon 9)

Charles glanced at me, looking mildly confused. “You know my name.”

“We know al about you. We know you were a priest, and that you were turned into a vampire.”

Another shift of the head, another start of surprise.

“Go away.” He raised his hand, as if shielding his eyes from my gaze. I could see the conflicting emotions race across his face. Guilt, anger, rage, hunger, al tied together. Oh yeah, Charles wasn’t playing with a ful deck, that was for sure. In the blink of an eye, he’d grabbed his jeans and slid into them. I winced. They were covered with dried blood. Apparently he washed his body to remove the sin of his actions, but he conveniently forgot to clean his garments.

“Charles. You have no choice. You can’t run because we’l hunt you down. Come quietly and we can get you some help.” Wade entered the room behind me. “You know you feel bad about those women—”

“No! They were whores, Jezebels. They were evil, tempting women and the only way I could save their souls was to cleanse them.” His voice was querulous and tinged with argument.

“Charles, you are aware you’re a vampire now?” I didn’t want to overlook the obvious. Since some ghosts weren’t aware they’d died, maybe in the break that happened to his psyche, he’d lost track of the fact that he was a vamp.

“I am their savior. I am here to wipe the world clean of harlots and sinners. I am the sword of blood and justice. My God has forsaken me, but I wil find myself in his graces again when I have cleansed the Earth for him.”

Oh, delightful. Not only was he a psychopath, but he had a martyr complex, too. Just what we needed.

“Charles, please—if you are the sword of justice, then hear us out.”

“You are spawn of the devil. I know what you are! You are like Jezebel, the beauty who would have tempted me. I fel . . . my God, I fel .” Tears began to streak down his cheeks. “I wanted to touch her—it was so hard, so very hard. I tried to resist, but she lured me in and I couldn’t stay away from her.”

His sire had used her glamour to reel the priest in. No wonder he was so guilt-ridden. He must have been true to his post, but no FBH could withstand the lure of a vampire. Especial y if she was older.

Charles took a step back and reached for something. I gauged whether I had a clear shot of his chest, but he was aware enough to keep his body turned just so that if I threw my stake, it would lodge in his arm. And that wouldn’t slow him down.

I motioned for Wade to begin edging toward the other door. We didn’t want him escaping again. Wade nodded and Charles glared at him as he clasped whatever it was he had picked up.

I prayed it wasn’t a stake-shooting gun that some FBH fanatic had worked up. We’d heard tales of a few lately, using the same technology as a spear gun to shoot wooden stakes.

But when he opened his hand to show me what he was holding, my fear factor jumped off the scale.

“Charles—put that down. We can talk. If you are the new savior, then you real y don’t want to use that.”

“It won’t hurt me. I’m immortal. I’m invincible. I cannot be kil ed.” And every word he said was fil ed with self-confidence. Charles real y didn’t think he could be kil ed. And he was holding what looked to be a live grenade.

CHAPTER 22

“He’s got a grenade!” I frantical y motioned for Wade to stop. He quickly took in the situation and changed course.

Grenades and explosions, though not a guaranteed death, could do a great deal of damage.

Some, if powerful enough, could put an end to a vampire. This was a smal space, enclosed, and the explosion would be devastating. Not to mention that it might bring down the entire tunnel system around here.

“You don’t want to do that.” Wade’s voice was even. He steadily moved toward the vampire, one smal step at a time. “Put the grenade down and we can talk. If you are the new savior, then maybe we can help you.”

Charles slowly shook his head. “You want to stop me—the spirits told me. They told me you’re the spawn of the devil, that you’re not anointed by the blood of the Lamb.”

I stared at him. He’d lost it and there was no coming back. The only thing we could hope for was to get the grenade away from him intact, because no matter what, we couldn’t let him escape again. A vampire with a martyr complex on the loose: Not Good. A vampire with a martyr complex on the loose with a live grenade: Very Bad. With a glance at Wade, I slowly began to move in.

Playing along wasn’t working. It was time to be straight.

“Charles, listen to me. You aren’t a savior. You aren’t the sword of God. You’re a vampire—you were a priest and a vampire kil ed you and turned you. She should not have done that. She was wrong and I’m so sorry. But now, you’re kil ing innocent women to get back at her. Can’t you see how twisted your logic is—” I stopped. Wade was frantical y shaking his head at me.

“You’re wrong. I’l prove you are. I am immortal! ” And Charles pul ed the pin.

“Run!” Wade dashed toward the cavern and I fol owed suit. We managed to clear our way through the short passage into the one leading back into the cavern when the explosion rocked the area. Smoke bil owed from behind us as the Earth shook and the sound of rocks crashing to the ground echoed around us. Living surround sound. I covered my head and suddenly Wade was leaning over me, trying to protect me from the fal ing debris.

The passage we were in reverberated with heavy rock fal as dust fil ed the air. Grateful neither of us needed to breathe, I waited until only a trickle of pebbles echoed through the passage.