Dance of the Gods Read online

  Blair glanced around as Moira went out. Cian was sprawled in a chair with a glass of wine and a book. Larkin sat on the couch, sipping at a beer and watching her.

  She didn’t want the tea Moira had brought in, didn’t want to be soothed by it. Nor did she want alcohol to dull the edge.

  So she paced a little more, stood at the window again. She saw the vampire on the left poof. She hadn’t even seen the arrow, but she saw the second vamp fade back into the trees.

  No, we’re not sleeping, she thought.

  “Sorry that took so long, but we couldn’t leave that in the middle. Tea. Perfect.” Glenna went directly to the table when they came in, poured a cup for herself and for Hoyt. “Is something up?”

  “Yeah. Moira will be right back. She just went up to take out one of the vamps outside.”

  “Oh.” Glenna let out a little gush of breath as she sat. “So they’re back. Well, it was nice while it lasted.”

  “I could only get one.” Moira came in with her bow. “It was too dark to see the second, and I’d have likely wasted an arrow.” But she propped the bow and her quiver by the window, in case she had another chance.

  “Okay, we’re all here. Morrigan paid me a visit—or had me pay her one. However it works.”

  “You had a vision?” Hoyt demanded.

  “I had whatever it is. At the battleground. It was empty. Just wind and fog, her. A lot of cryptic god stuff, the bottom line being she said we’re to leave for Geall a week from today.”

  “We go back?” Moira stepped to Larkin, squeezed a hand on his shoulder. “We go back to Geall.”

  “That’s what the lady said,” Blair confirmed. “We’ve got a week to get ready for it. To figure out what we need, pack it up, finish up what’s going on up in the magic tower. We go to the stone circle, the way you got here,” she said, nodding at Larkin and Moira. “The way Hoyt came through. I don’t know how it works, but—”

  “We have keys,” Moira told her. “Morrigan gave me a key, and one to Hoyt.”

  “I’d say travel arrangements are up to you guys. We’ll take all the weapons we can carry. Potions, lotions—whatever Hoyt and Glenna figure we can use best. Major glitch that I see is that for Cian to get there, we have to hope for a cloudy day or leave the house after sunset. Since we’ve got watchers again, they’ll know we’re on the move. They’ll try to stop us, no question.”

  “And they’ll tell Lilith we’ve gone,” Glenna added.

  “She’ll know where. When we go to Geall, we take her there.” Moira’s hand tightened on Larkin’s shoulder. “I’d bring that plague to my people.”

  “It can’t be helped,” Blair began.

  “You say that because you’ve grown used to living with this. I want to go home,” Moira said. “I want to go home more than I can say, but to bring something so evil with me. What if the battle didn’t take place? If we found her portal, sealed it off somehow. We could change destiny.”

  Destiny, in Blair’s opinion, wasn’t something you messed around with. “Then the battle takes place here, where it’s not meant to. And I’d have to say our chances of winning drop.”

  “Moira.” Larkin rose, moving around the couch until he faced her. “I don’t love Geall less than you, but this is the way. It’s what was asked of you, and what you asked of me.”

  “Larkin.”

  “The plague you speak of has already infested Geall. It took your mother. Would you ask me to leave my own now, to break this trust. To risk all?”

  “No. I’m sorry. I’m not afraid for myself, not any more. But I see the faces of those people in cages, and they take on the faces of those I know, from home. And I’m afraid.”

  She steadied herself. “It’s more than Geall, I know. We’ll go, in one week.”

  “Once we’re there we’ll raise an army.” Hoyt looked at Moira. “You’ll ask your people to fight, to unify under this circle.”

  “They’ll fight.”

  “It’s going to involve a lot of training,” Blair pointed out. “And it’s going to be more complicated than what we’ve been doing. We’re just six. We’d better be able to pull together hundreds, and it’s not just putting a stake in their hands. It’s teaching them how to kill vampires.”

  “With one exception.” Cian lifted his glass in half salute.

  “No one will lay hands on you,” Moira told him, and he answered with a lazy smile.

  “Little queen, if I thought otherwise, I’d toss some confetti and wish you all bon voyage.”

  “Okay, here’s another thing.” Blair passed by the windows again, just to see if any vampires had chanced coming toward the house. “For all we know Lilith may be on the move, too. She may even get there before we do. Anyway, can we rig up the circle—some spell—so we’ll know if it’s been used to…open the door?”

  “There should be.” Glenna looked at Hoyt. “Yes, I think we can work that.”

  “You wouldn’t have to. She can’t use the Dance of the Gods.” Larkin reached for his beer again. “Didn’t you say, Moira, when we came through that a demon couldn’t enter the circle?”

  “It’s pure,” she agreed. “What they are can’t enter the ring, much less use it to go between worlds.”

  “Okay, bigger problem.”

  Cian acknowledged Blair’s comment with another lift of his glass. “Looks like I’ll be tossing that confetti after all.”

  “That’s a kick in the arse, isn’t it. I’d forgotten.” Larkin pursed his lips before drinking again. “So we’ll find a way around it. As I understand it, we six must go, so there must be a way to do it. We just need to find it.”

  “We go together,” Hoyt said and set his tea aside, “or we don’t go at all.”

  “Aye.” Larkin nodded in agreement. “We leave no one behind. And we’re taking the horse this time.” He remembered himself, smiled easily at Cian. “If it’s all the same to you.”

  “We work the problem. Any magical solutions spring to mind?” Blair asked Hoyt.

  “The goddess must intercede. She must. If we attempt, Glenna and I, to open this ourselves to let Cian through, we could change it all, disrupt the power, close it altogether so no one gets through—or out again.”

  “Every time you change the nature of something,” Glenna explained, “you risk repercussions. Magic has a lot in common with physics, really. The circle is a holy place, sacred ground, and we can’t mess with that. But at the same time, Cian’s meant to go, and at the goddess’s behest. So we’ll work on the loophole.”

  “If there’s another way, another portal that Lilith needs to use, maybe Cian’s supposed to use that.” Blair frowned at him. “It’d be my second choice. I don’t like separating, especially on moving day.”

  “Added to the fact,” he reminded her, “that I don’t know where in the bloody hell that portal or window might be.”

  “Yeah, there’s that. But maybe we can find out.”

  “Another search spell?” Glenna reached for Hoyt’s hand. “We can try.”

  “No, I wasn’t thinking of spells. Not exactly.” Blair angled her head, studied Larkin. “Any living thing, right?”

  He set down his beer, smiled slowly. “That’s the way of it. What do we have in mind?”

  “You’re sure you want to do this?” Blair stood in the tower with Larkin. “I know it was my idea, but—”

  “And a fine one it is. Ah, now, are you worried for me, a stor?”

  “Sending you out into a fortified vamp nest, one with magical shields—sending you unarmed. No. What’s to worry about?”

  “I won’t need a weapon, and it wouldn’t be easy to carry one the way I’m going.”

  “Anything seems off, you get out. Don’t be a hero.”

  “I was born to be a hero.”

  “I’m serious, Larkin, no grandstanding.” Her stomach was already jittering. “This is just for information. Any signs she’s getting ready to move, numbers if you can get a clear idea, a look at their arsenal
—”

  “Sure you’ve been over this with me already, a time or two. Do I strike you as being addle-brained?”

  “We should wait for the morning, then we could drive you as far as the cliffs. We’d be there if you ran into trouble.”

  “And it’s more likely than not they’ve got the caves blocked off again during the daylight hours, as you said yourself. They’d be less likely to expect anything like this at night. As I said so myself. If I’m to be a soldier in this war, Blair, I have to do what I can do.”

  “Just don’t do anything stupid.” Giving in to the need, to the worry, she grabbed his hair with both hands, yanked his face to hers.

  She kept her fear out of the kiss. It wasn’t fear she wanted to send with him. Instead she poured out hope and heat, and held on to him as the punch of the kiss vibrated down to her toes.

  “Not so fast,” he said when she started to back away. And spun her around so her back was pressed to the tower wall. “Not all of us are done as yet.”

  This was what he’d looked for, this fire. Like liquid flames that sparked from her to run into his blood. He let it scorch him as he gripped her hips, then ran his hands up her body, down again. So he could take the shape of her with him.

  “Cian lured them to the front of the…” Moira stopped short, eyes going wide at the sight of her cousin and Blair locked in each other’s arms. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s not a problem. Just getting myself a fine kiss goodbye.” He cupped Blair’s face in his hands. “I’ll be back by morning.” Then he turned, opened his arms to Moira.

  She rushed into them. “Be careful. I couldn’t lose you, I couldn’t bear it, Larkin. Remember that, remember we’re all waiting for you, and come back safe.”

  “By first light.” He kissed each one of her cheeks. “Keep a candle burning for me.”

  “We’ll be watching.” Blair made herself turn and open the window. “In Glenna’s crystal, for as long as we can.”

  “I wouldn’t mind having that French toast when I return.” He looked straight into her eyes.

  They changed first. She hadn’t noticed that before, Blair realized. His eyes changed first, pupil and iris, then came the shimmer of light.

  The hawk looked at her, as the man had. Then it flew into the night, silent as the air.

  “He’ll be fine,” Blair said under her breath. “He’ll be fine.”

  Moira reached for her hand, and together they watched until the hawk flew out of sight.

  Chapter 7

  He soared. With his height and the hawk’s vision he could see the things that slunk around the house. He counted eight—a small party then, and likely just watchers as Blair had said. Regardless, he took another circle to be sure it was a scouting expedition and not an attack force.

  Widening the circle, he spotted the van at the end of the lane, just beyond the turnoff. Of course, he thought, they would need a way to get back and forth from the caves, wouldn’t they? But it was nervy, and a bit insulting come to that, for them to leave their machine so close to the house.

  He circled again, considering the situation, then dived for the ground.

  He remembered what Glenna had said about how the van worked, how a key was needed to spark the—what was it? Ignition. Wasn’t it a shame they hadn’t left it hanging in there, in the lock of the thing.

  But he remembered, too, that she’d explained that the wheels it rolled on were filled with air. If the wheel was punctured, and the air got out, and then the wheel was called a flat. It was a pain in the ass, she’d said.

  He thought it would be fruitful, and fun as well, to give the vampires a pain in the ass.

  He changed to a unicorn, with a pale gold wash over its white hide. And lowering his head, plunged his keen-tipped horn into the tire. There was a satisfying little pop, then the hiss of escaping air. Wanting to be thorough, he pierced it a second time.

  Pleased, Larkin trotted around the van, puncturing each tire until he saw the van sat on four flat wheels. Let’s see you try to get this machine to roll now, you bastards, he thought.

  Then he rose up again on wings and flew south.

  There was enough moonlight to guide him, and a cool wind to aid his speed. He could see the land below, the spread and roll of it. The rise of hills, the patchwork of fields.

  Lights glimmered from the villages, and the larger towns.

  He thought of the lively pubs, with the music playing, with the scents of beer and pretty women. The voices in conversation and the rise of laughter. One evening, when all this was done, he wanted to sit in a pub with his friends, those five who were so vital to him, and lift a pint with all those voices, all that music around them.

  It was a good image to hold on to during a long flight to a nest of monsters.

  Below, he saw the long, lovely sweep of river they called Shannon.

  It was beautiful land, he thought, as green as home, and with the sea close. He could hear the rumble of it as he angled southwest.

  The dragon would be faster, he knew, but it was the hawk he’d agreed to. He wished he could fly here again, in the dragon, with Blair on his back. She could tell him the names of what he saw below, the towns and the ruins, the rivers and lakes. Would she know the name of that waterfall he soared over, the one as high and powerful as his own Faerie Falls back home?

  He remembered the feel of her legs locking around him as they rose up into the air. The way she’d laughed. He’d never known another like her, warrior and woman, with such strength and vulnerability. A ready fist and a tender heart.

  He liked the way she talked, quick and confident. And the way her lips quirked up on one side, then the other when she smiled.

  There was a longing in him for her, which he thought as natural as breath. But there was something tangled with it, something sharp that he didn’t recognize. It would be interesting to find out what it all meant.

  He winged over the waterfall, and a dense forest that framed it. He skimmed over the quiet glimmer of lakes with starshine glinting on the water. And he aimed for the slicing beam of the lighthouse on the cliffs.

  He flew down, silent as a shadow.

  On the narrow strip of shale, he saw two figures. A woman, he realized, and a young boy. Alarm tightened his heart inside his chest. They would be captured wandering here near the caves in the dark. Imprisoned, then used, then killed. And he had no weapon to defend them.

  He landed in the shadow of rock, and nearly changed into a man to do what he could. But the woman turned to laugh at the child, and the cold white moonlight struck her face.

  He had seen her only once before, standing on the high cliffs. But he would never forget her face.

  Lilith. The self-proclaimed queen of the undead.

  “Please, Mama, please, I want to hunt.”

  “Now, Davey, remember what I told you. We don’t hunt near our home. We’ve plenty of food inside, and since you’ve been so good…” She bent down to tap a finger to his nose, a gesture of amused affection. “You can have your pick.”

  “But it’s no fun when they’re just there.”

  “I know.” She sighed, ruffled his glossy gold hair. “It’s more like a chore than a thrill. But it won’t be much longer. When we move on to Geall, you can hunt every night.”

  “When?”

  “Soon, my precious lamb.”

  “I’m tired of being here.” Voice petulant, he kicked at the shale.

  Larkin could see he had the face of a little imp—round and sweet.

  “I wish I had a kitty. Please, can’t I have a kitty cat? I wouldn’t eat it like last time.”

  “That’s what you said about the puppy,” she reminded him with a quick, gay laugh. “But we’ll see. But how about this? I’ll let one out for you, and it can run through the caves. You can chase it down, hunt it down. Won’t that be fun?”

  When he grinned, moonlight sent the dusting of freckles on his chubby cheeks into relief. And glinted on his fangs. “Can I have t
wo?”

  “So greedy.” She kissed him, and not, Larkin saw with a sick revulsion, in the way a mother kisses a son. “That’s what I love about you, my own true love. Let’s go inside then, and you can pick out the ones you want.”

  Behind the rock, Larkin changed. A sleek, dark rat darted inside the caves behind the sweep of Lilith’s long skirts.

  He could smell death, and see the things that moved in the dark. Things that bowed when Lilith glided by.

  There was little light—only a scatter of torches clamped to the walls here and there. But as they moved deeper there was a faint green tinge to the light he felt was unnatural. Magic, he knew, just as he knew this magic wasn’t clean and white.

  She drifted through the maze of it, holding the boy’s hand as he trotted at her side. Vampires scuttled up the walls like spiders, or hung from the ceiling like bats.

  He could only hope they weren’t overly interested in snacking on rat blood.

  He followed the swish of Lilith’s robes, and kept to the dark corners.

  The sounds of unspeakable human suffering began to echo.

  “What sort do you want, my darling?” Lilith swung his arm with hers as if they were on an outing to a fair and a promised treat. “Something young and lean, or perhaps something with a little more flesh?”

  “I don’t know. I want to look in their eyes first. Then I’ll know.”

  “Clever boy. You make me proud.”

  There were more cages than he’d imagined, and the sheer horror had him struggling to stay in form. He wanted to spring into a man, grab a sword from one of the guards, and start hacking.

  He would take down a few of them, and that might be worth dying for. But he would never get any of the people out.

  Blair had warned him, but he hadn’t fully believed.

  The boy had dropped his mother’s hand and now strolled, hands behind his back, pacing up and down the length of the cages. A child eyeing treats at the baker’s, Larkin thought.

  Davey stopped, pursing his lips as he studied a young woman huddled in the corner of a cage. She seemed to be singing, or perhaps she was praying, for the words were unintelligible. But Larkin could see her eyes were already dead.

  “This one wouldn’t be any fun to hunt.” Even when Davey poked at her through the bars, she sat passively. “She’s not afraid anymore.”

  “Sometimes they go mad. Their minds are weak, after all, like their bodies.” Lilith gestured to another cage. “What about this one?”

  The man in it was rocking a woman who was either asleep or unconscious. There was blood on her neck, and her face was pale as wax.

  “Bitch. You bitch, what have you done to her? I’ll kill you.”

  “Now this one’s got some life left in him!” With a broad grin, Lilith tossed back her gilded mane of hair. “What do you think, my sweetie?”

  Davey cocked his head, then shook it. “He won’t run. He won’t want to leave the female.”

  “Why, Davey, you’re so perceptive.” She crouched down, kissing his cheeks with obvious pride. “Such a big boy, and so wise.”

  “I want this one.” He pointed at a woman who’d pressed herself to the back of the cage. Her eyes darted everywhere. “She’s afraid, and she thinks that maybe, maybe, she can still get out so she’ll run, and run and run. And him.” Davey gestured up. “He’s mad, he wants to fight. See the way he shakes the bars.”

  “I think those are excellent choices.” She snapped her fingers at one of the guards, both of whom wore light armor and skullcaps. “Release those two, and pass the word. Except for preventing them from leaving the caves, they’re not to be touched. They belong to the prince.”

  Davey jumped up and down, clapped his hands. “Thank you, Mama! Do you want to play with me? I’ll share with you.”

  “That’s so sweet, but I have some work to see to now. And remember to wash up when you’re finished eating.” She turned to one of the guards again. “Tell Lady Lora I want her to join me, in the wizard’s cave.”