Master of the Night (13 page)

She almost dropped the massive weapon as it instantly appeared in her hand. Tightening her grip on it, she examined its gleaming length in satisfaction. “Oh, yeah. Devil Boy's in for a nasty surprise.”

When she looked up, she found Reece staring at the blade in her hand. He paled and stepped back a pace.

Frowning, Erin looked into his eyes—and saw a series of flashing images. Lizzie, the sword in her slender hands. Westlake, dying with a froth of scarlet blood on his lips, the sword buried in his belly. Lizzie's scream of fury as she'd turned on Reece.

And the horrible, gut-searing jolt as Champion had driven the sword into her chest and watched the life drain from her eyes.

A cold chill rolled over Erin as she tore her gaze from his, knowing he was wondering if he'd have to kill her the same way.

He was afraid she was going mad.

And in a moment of raw, black terror, Erin found herself fearing the same thing.

No. She couldn't allow this. She had to hold on, retain control of the power she'd been handed. Her life hung in the balance. And so did everyone else's.

Erin remembered that brief, painfully intense moment when she'd touched Reece's mind, seen the courage and intelligence and strength in him. She hadn't been able to save David, but she could, by God, save him. Assuming she could get them both out of here before Geirolf came back.

Despite the feeling of invincibility her new powers had given her, logically she was no match for an other-dimensional alien who'd once been worshiped as a god.

Erin made the sword disappear. “What do I do? How do I get us out of here?”

He relaxed slightly at the evidence she was beginning to take this seriously. “You need to open a gateway into Avalon.”

Erin licked her lips, feeling a trickle of sweat work its way down her spine. Something was shimmering over in one corner, but she was damned if she'd look at it. “What's Avalon again?”

“The home of the High Court. Come here, I'll show you.” He moved toward her and took her hand in his. His fingers felt so warm, she knew her own must be ice cold. “Look into my mind,” he said softly.

Looking up, she met his green gaze—and saw fantastic buildings jumbled against a shimmering skyline of alien stars. Then there was a single room with a long bar surrounded by clusters of tables, all in dark wood with accents of gleaming brass. Massive leather chairs sat around the tables, and on the walls were paintings in thick, intricate frames. Some depicted battles ranging from the medieval period to the second Gulf War, while others showed women, often nude, in various erotic posses.

In a place of honor near the bar stood a huge tome of a book, lying open on a stand.

“You want me to take you to a bar?” Erin asked, amused.

“Actually, it's the Lord's Club.” He shrugged. “I need to talk to Merlin's Grimoire. It would know about Geirolf if anyone does.”

She frowned. He must be talking about the thick book. “Isn't a grimoire a book of spells? How do you talk to…” She trailed off as she saw the answer in his mind. Merlin's Grimoire was, in fact, sentient. “Wow. A talking book.”

“Sometimes you can't get it to shut up,” Champion agreed. “With luck, it'll be able to tell us how to defeat the demon. While we're at it, I'll request an appearance before the High Council. We'll need to explain ourselves before somebody puts out an order of execution on us.”

Erin winced, seeing his various memories of what had happened to others who'd Turned a Latent without permission. “Yeah, we definitely need to make that a priority.” She swallowed and released his hand to rub her damp palms on the legs of her jeans. “So I gather I'm supposed to just
will
us there?”

“Well, yeah, but I'm not sure it's going to be that easy. Not if this cell was built to hold Geirolf, who was presumably pretty damn powerful when Merlin put him into it.”

And if she couldn't do it, Reece was going to have to kill her. Or she was going to have to kill herself, though she wasn't even remotely sure she could pull it off.
Where's a good suicidal depression when you need one, huh?
She drew in a breath and blew it out as her stomach knotted around itself. She fumbled for his hand, grabbed it in a death grip.
Can't forget him
. “Okay, concentrate on your bar.”

And he did. She could see it there in his mind, could almost smell the leather, hear the rumble of masculine laughter and the taste of the bottled blood the Majae donated.
Okay, there was a detail I didn't need,
Erin thought, swallowing hastily as her stomach lurched.

Then she
reached
out for it in some way she didn't even understand herself, squeezing her eyes shut as she focused ferociously on their need to stand in that bar, safe, among all Champion's vampire friends.
Now!

She opened her eyes to see Reece looking down at her patiently. They still stood in the cell. “Fuck.” She shut her eyes again.
Do it, dammit,
she told herself grimly.
Do it or you're dead.

She
reached
again.

This time she felt it. Felt the universe stir under her like some huge animal waking. Felt it
lift
…

SLAM!!!

Something picked her up, jerked her hand from Reece's, and slapped her all the way across the room. Her back hit the stone wall hard enough to knock the breath out of her. She saw stars as her head smacked into the wall. The world spun, and then she felt another bruising impact as she hit the floor on her belly.

“Erin!” She heard Champion's shout only distantly through the ringing in her ears.

A tender hand explored her back. “Are you all right?”

She realized she couldn't breathe. Panicked for an instant before her chest finally started working with huge, desperate gulps. “Oh, Jesus,” she gasped.

“Lie still! Did you break anything?” His long fingers gently worked through her hair, evidently searching for bumps. They paused, probed. “You've got quite a knot there.”

“Not surprised.” Dazed, Erin pushed herself onto one elbow and took stock. Everything ached viciously, but all the relevant parts seemed intact. “'M okay,” she slurred, wishing for an aspirin.

A bottle instantly appeared on the floor.

“It would be quicker to magic the pain away,” he told her.

“Good point.” She closed her eyes and managed to concentrate despite the throbbing in her skull. Assorted aches and pains—including the one from the knot on her head—instantly disappeared. “Damn,” she said, and got to her feet easily. “If I could bottle that, I could put the entire pharmaceutical industry out of business.”

“Which is why we're not allowed to do it,” Reece said. “What happened?”

Erin snorted. “The cell did not like me trying to leave.”

She looked up to meet his gaze. She didn't even need to read his mind to know what he was thinking. “No,” she gritted. “I'm not done yet. I'm not going to just give up and die.”

He frowned heavily. “If you keep this up, you won't have to. The cell's going to kill you first.”

“So we try something else.” Erin turned and stalked toward the nearest window. Kneeling, she started examining it. “Demon Boy got out of here, so it has to be possible.”

“Yeah, if you've got somebody willing to make human sacrifices on your behalf.”

“But didn't he say he'd done something to the cell?” She touched the glass and concentrated, willed herself to see the molecular structure of the glass.

And just like that, she could. The glass dissolved into a tight latticework of particles and energy that, unfortunately, was all too sturdy. She growled a soft curse and went on to the next. “Maybe he didn't try to create a gate directly out of here,” she explained to Reece. “Maybe he tunneled through the wall, and then made his gate. And if I was going to try to break through—”

“—the windows are the logical place to do it.” Reece shook his head. “But I tried that, and it didn't work.”

“You tried brute force.” Erin was moving more quickly now, touching each of the windows in turn. “I'm going to try—Ah!” She stopped. There, in the second-to-the-last window, was a tiny gap in the molecular structure. “This was the one he broke,” Erin said, smoothing her hands over the glass.

Suddenly she could feel it—the spell slamming into the glass, stinking of death and despair and evil.

Erin jerked back, shivering. “Yeah, this was it, all right. Jesus, does death power every spell that bastard casts?”

Reece moved up behind her. “Probably. Remember how Parker killed Avery before he called Geirolf?”

“Yeah. And somebody's going to pay for that.” Cautiously she rested her fingertips on the glass again, ready to jerk away in case of another ugly jolt. “Geirolf repaired the glass before he locked us up, but there's still a weakness in the structure. If I can pour enough power into it, maybe I can break it.”

“Okay.” Champion stepped up behind her and wrapped his brawny arms around her in a warm, secure hold. “Try it. I've got you.”

Assuming she could actually concentrate with all that delicious masculinity plastered against her.

Well, might as well make the best of it. Erin settled herself against him, braced her feet, and flattened her palm against the cool pane.

No,
she thought suddenly.
What I want is something like a laser. Something tight and focused
. She took her hand away and pressed one fingertip there instead.

Then she hesitated.
What am I doing? This shit is impossible. There's no such thing as vampires and demons. Maybe I've already gone nuts. Maybe I'm actually locked up in some psych ward somewhere
.

“You're not crazy,” Reece murmured in her ear.

She took a deep breath and blew it out. “You started reading my mind, Champion?”

“Reading, hell. You were broadcasting so hard, I'm surprised they didn't pick you up in Avalon.”

“Don't I wish. Then maybe they'd come rescue us.”

“'Fraid we're going to have to get out of this one all by ourselves, darlin'.”

“Yeah.” Erin closed her eyes, gritted her teeth, and focused her full attention on the fingertip touching the cool, hard surface of the glass. She imagined a beam of force shooting out to bore into the smooth, hard crystal, eating it away layer by magical layer.

She felt it first as pressure on the inside of her skull, like the beginning of a vicious headache. The tip of her finger began to heat. The sensation spread slowly up the finger, into her hand, then up her forearm and biceps and shoulder, spreading and intensifying as it went until it felt as if her entire body was blazing with pain. She heard Reece gasp softly in her ear, and knew he felt it, too.

But she didn't stop.

Time unreeled slowly, in white-hot increments. She was distantly aware of the sensation of sweat rolling down her face until it dripped from her chin. Still she refused to stop.

They had to get out of here. That was all that mattered. Not the pain. Not the heat. Nothing but escape.

Staying meant death.

“Maybe you should
take a break.” Erin heard Reece's voice through red-hot waves of agony, like heat radiating from molten steel.

“No.” She had to push the word out through teeth tightly clenched against the need to scream.

“How much more of this do you think you can take?”

He was right. The structure of the glass was weakening, but not as fast as the flow of her power.

She was running out of energy.

No
. She couldn't fail. She couldn't fail David. And she wouldn't fail Reece.

Gathering everything she had left—every last erg of will, magic, spirit, whatever the hell it was she had—Erin flung it from out of her body with a raw, hoarse shriek of effort. She felt it slam into the window the instant before her legs went out from under her.

But she didn't fall. Reece's warm, strong arms held steady around her. She felt him lower her limp body to the floor. Saw his lips moving, though she couldn't hear the words. He wore an expression of fear and desperation. She tried to reassure him, but she couldn't manage to shape words. Her entire body felt boiled, as if one wrong move would make the skin drop away like meat from the carcass of a chicken that had cooked too long.

Slowly, with infinite effort, she turned her head.

The window still stood in its frame, without so much as a single crack.

 

Reece looked from
Erin's drawn, exhaustion-dulled eyes to the window—and hissed in a breath of pain. “Ah, hell.” She'd poured so much power into it, he'd suspected she'd given it part of her very soul.

And still it stood.

Goddammit, it wasn't fair. He'd never seen anything or anyone as heroic as Erin Grayson fighting to break that window, her lovely face contorted with suffering, her blue eyes burning with raw will.

She'd awed him.

“Do it now.” Her voice was so faint, even Reece's vampire hearing barely picked it up.

He looked down at her and felt his heart clutch. She was staring at the window, a lone tear wending down the curve of her cheek. Her face was blasted with desolation, the skin drawn tight over the bones, as if she'd suffered weeks of starvation in a matter of minutes.

Reece recoiled, knowing what she was asking for. “No. Forget it. Just wait. Rest. You'll feel better in a few hours.”

Then he winced, realizing he was suggesting she go through this all over again.

He wasn't sure she'd survive.

Her dry, cracked lips moved again. “Nothing left. Used it all.”

His heart sank as he realized she was right. The live-wire feeling he'd had in her presence just a half hour before was gone. In fact, he'd never encountered a Maja with so little power. She almost felt like a mortal.

“Burnt myself out.” Her eyes closed and she drew in a breath. “Like a lightbulb.”

Reece pressed two fingers against the pulse beating in her throat. It felt much too faint. “You'll be okay,” he told her, and hoped he was right.

“Kill me.”

“No!” Reece shot to his feet. “Forget that. It's not happening.” Not after watching the way she'd fought for them. He'd rather rip out his own heart. It would hurt less.

“You can't let him sacrifice us.” She opened her eyes and looked at him. Weak as she was, he could feel the power of her will. “Don't let this be for nothing.”

“I'm not killing you,” he said fiercely. “If it comes down to it, I'll commit suicide.”

“Don't be melodramatic.” She let her lids close again. “You don't have a magic blade. I got rid of it.”

Goddamn it, he should have made her hand it over instead. Now what the hell was he going to do?

Frustration and fear roiling in him, Reece looked away from her ravaged face. His gaze fell on the window.

Before he knew what he was doing, he flung himself at it, driving his shoulder into the glass. It rang like a bell, almost throwing him back, but he dug in his feet and rammed it again. And again, and again, each impact jarring his body.

“Reece!” Erin actually managed to lift her voice enough to be heard over the reverberations. “Stop it!”

“No!” Savagely he drew back a fist and slammed it into the window with every last bit of his boiling rage and frustration.

Glass exploded out into the night in a rain of glittering shards.

Reece froze, staring at the fist-sized hole he'd put in the glass. “Damn,” he breathed. “Erin, you did it!”

“What?” Hope made her voice a little stronger. “What did you—? You broke it!”

“You bet your ass!” He reared back on one foot and pistoned the other into the remaining glass, intent on enlarging the hole enough for their escape. More glass flew. “Oh, yeah! Here we go!” He kicked again, furiously. The hole widened. Another vicious kick and one last punch, and he had an opening large enough to fit his body through.

Which was when he suddenly became aware of a crawling sensation along the base of his neck. “Oh, shit!” Whirling, he bent and picked Erin up, then, careful of the jagged shards, bent to maneuver her out the window. “Can you stand?” he asked, putting her onto her feet.

“No, but I can sit,” she said, and hissed as her legs gave under her, collapsing her slowly to the ground. As Reece crawled out after her, she looked up at him, her brows furrowed in worry. Her face was far too pale, and her lips were blue. “Something's coming.” She had to stop to pant. “Something big. Powerful.”

“Yeah, I sense it, too,” he said, wincing as a jagged shard raked a furrow across his shoulder. “The window was warded.” The minute he had both feet on the ground, he bent, picked her up, and eased her across his shoulder into a fireman's carry. There was no way she could walk, let alone run. “Geirolf must have set a spell to warn him if we escaped. Hold on, baby. We're going to have to run like hell.”

 

As he wrapped
his arms more securely around her and took off in a ground-eating lope, neither of them noticed the small, glowing figure watching from the concealment of a rose.

It was a good thing she'd kept watch on the cell, Janieda thought grimly. She'd had a feeling the woman inside would find a way to escape, and she'd been right.

Of course, she hadn't expected there to be a vampire in there as well, but that hardly mattered. The two still stunk of Geirolf's death magic, which meant they were either in league with him or part of one of his spells. Either way, they had to be stopped.

She was going to have to tell Llyr about this. He wasn't going to be happy about it, but once she told him about the vision she'd had, he'd know what had to be done.

Concentrating, Janieda aimed a spell at the fleeing couple. The vampire didn't even look around when it hit, too busy trying to escape to notice. She nodded in satisfaction, knowing she and Llyr would be able to find the pair now, no matter where they went.

With a flick of her wings and a shower of sparks, she lifted off the rose and flew off toward the palace.

 

The Cell

Steven Parker concentrated on standing very still, hoping to escape his raging master's notice.

“I'll rip them apart!” Geirolf snarled, pacing across the cell, his cloven hooves clicking on the stone, his black, curving horns almost brushing the ceiling. He'd taken a form suited to his fury. “I'll spill their guts and burn them in front of their living eyes as they shriek for mercy!” He stopped in the center of the room and threw back his head to howl.

Instinctively Parker hunched his shoulders and lowered his head as the sound made his rib cage reverberate. He relaxed only slightly when the demon god began pacing again.

“Dammit, couldn't the horny bastard wait until I'd finished gathering my army?” Geirolf spat. “The spell I put on him was just enough to dull his appetite.” He stomped one cloven foot in frustration. “I was certain he'd stay away from her after what happened with that first Maja bitch. He must have wanted Grayson more than I expected.”

More likely, Champion had simply yielded to the logic of the situation and realized he had to take a chance. Geirolf had underestimated both of them badly. Not that Parker was stupid enough to point that out.

Restlessly Geirolf stalked to the shattered window and stuck his horned head out. “And she used the same window I did. But I repaired the glass myself. It should have held against anything a Maja could do to it.” He snapped off a shard of glass and glowered at it. It was, Parker saw, tipped in blood. “She must have a great deal more power than I anticipated.”

The demon god flicked out his forked tongue and took a sampling lick. He blinked at the taste, and a speculative expression grew in his eyes. He licked it again.

A terrifying grin spread across the monstrous face. “And she used every bit of it up.” He threw the shard against the nearest wall, where it shattered spectacularly. Geirolf pivoted on a cloven hoof and aimed that bloodcurdling smile at Parker, who managed not to cower. “She's burned herself out. She's got nothing left. Find her for me. Find them both, and quickly.”

“Me?” The agent swallowed and looked at the dark, alien landscape beyond the window. “Out there?” It was one thing to take on the vampire in the flush of power from a murder, but quite another to track him through some accursed magical universe at night.

Geirolf shook his horned head. “I can't stay here. I put out too much power—the witches will sense my presence and come to investigate. It's all I can do to hide from them even in Realspace. If I stay here much longer, they'll sense me.” He looked around the cell with a mixture of loathing and appreciation. “Luckily even broken, these walls provide some shielding. Which no doubt accounts for the fact that they'd forgotten I was here.”

“But once I step outside, won't they sense me? Not to mention the vampire and the witch?” If Geirolf feared the Majae so much, Parker was damn sure he wanted nothing to do with them.

Geirolf shrugged his massive shoulders. “There are so many magical beings out there, the three of you will be lost against the general background hum. Track them down. Call me. I'll take care of them.” He glanced outside at the moon. “In the meantime, I've got to make sure the Majae don't break the spell on Merlin's Grimoire before it's too late to do them any good.” His red eyes flashed toward Parker's face, and his voice dropped to a menacing hiss. “Which means I'd better have my sacrifices back by then. I will, won't I?”

Parker swallowed. “Yes, my Dread Lord.”

Geirolf smiled, showing a mouthful of razored teeth that would have put a Rottweiler's to shame. “That's what I like to hear.”

 

The Forest

Reece leaped over a bush and skidded to a halt. Erin's limp arms swung against his back with the motion. She'd blacked out during their run, but he hadn't dared stop. Now they were finally far enough out into the wilds of the Mageverse to have a few moments' breathing space.

Tenderly he lowered her into a patch of softly glowing bracken. “Erin? Erin, baby, wake up.” He caught her cold little hand. Her skin was tinged with gray.

Reece felt his own heart stop, until he heard the faint thump of hers. She was still alive. Barely. But how long would she stay that way?

He lifted his head and scanned the surrounding forest. Massive trees that had never known an ax towered against the alien starfield overhead, and magical wildlife rustled and called in the darkness. Here and there, he thought he saw a flash of red eyes or the sparks of a magic trail. He had no idea where they were.

Yet it was painfully obvious he didn't dare carry her another foot. She was too weak to take any more jarring.

Dammit, he'd never heard of a Maja using her own life force to power a spell. He hadn't even known it was possible. Yet he wasn't surprised Erin had found a way to do it. She'd been utterly determined to free them no matter what it took.

The question was, how was he supposed to save her?

A Truebond, maybe? Reece reached down and smoothed her tangled blond hair away from her face. He winced at the chill of her cheek.

If he could just link their minds, he could lend her his strength. He could save her. Of course, once made, the Truebond could never be broken. They'd be united mentally for all time. She'd be able to reach into his thoughts anytime she wanted. As he'd be able to reach into hers.

Secretly, Reece had never liked the idea of a Truebond. Never liked the thought of giving a woman—or anybody else, really—that much power over him. He'd been astonished that Lancelot had been willing to Truebond with Grace, even given how much they loved each other. Of course, at the time Grace had been dying, and the bond had been the only way to save her, but still…

Now looking down into Erin's pale, drawn face, Reece understood why Lance had done it: The rest of his life would have been a wasteland without her.

Reece remembered the way Erin's blue eyes went dark and mysterious when he touched her. The cool drift of her silken hands on his skin. Her laughter, deep and throaty. That wicked wit and razored intelligence.

And the hot, dogged determination on her face as she poured everything she had—literally—into breaking that window. She'd destroyed herself to free them so Geirolf could be stopped.

He remembered her explanation of why she'd slept with him, even believing he was working with the death cults:
“Those cultists are killing people, Reece. There's nothing I won't do to stop that.”

And there was nothing Reece wouldn't do to keep her alive.

Merlin's Gift,
he thought,
I'm in love with her.

The thought carried a sweet pleasure. And an equal terror. He was so damn close to losing her.

So, yes, he'd Truebond with her. Hell, he wanted nothing more than to be able to reach out and just…touch her. Wherever she was. Wherever he was.