Dance of the Gods (14 page)

“You have to be practical, Glenna. We all do. Now.” Blair tapped Glenna's storage chest with her foot. “What's essential in here?”

“All of it.”

“Glenna.”

“Blair.” Glenna folded her arms. “Are we or are we not going into battle against über evil?”

“Yes, we are. Which means we go in lean, stripped down, mobile.”

“No, which means we go in loaded. These are my weapons.” Glenna swept out a hand, a bit, Blair thought, like one of those game show models showing off fabulous prizes. “Are you leaving your weapons behind?”

“No, but I can also carry mine on my back, which you can't do with this two-ton chest.”

“It doesn't weigh two tons. Seventy-five pounds, tops.” Glenna's lips trembled at Blair's long, cool stare. “Okay, maybe eighty.”

“The books alone—”

“May make all the difference. Who's to say? I'll worry about the transport.”

“This better be a damn big stone circle,” Blair muttered. “You know you're taking more than the rest of us combined.”

“What can I say? I'm a diva.”

Blair rolled her eyes, stalked to the tower window to stare out into the rain.

There was little time here left, she thought. Nearly moving day. And while she could sense—nearly see—a few of Lilith's forces in the trees, there'd be no movement toward the house. No attack.

She'd expected something. After what Larkin had pulled off, the sheer balls of it, she'd expected a reprisal. It seemed impossible Lilith would take such an insult, such a loss, without slapping back.

“Maybe she's too busy gearing up for Geall, too.”

“What?”

“Lilith.” Blair turned back to Glenna. “Nothing out of her for days now. And Larkin's infiltration had to sting. Jesus, when you think about it, one man—unarmed—not
only getting in, but getting prisoners out. It's a kick in the face.”

Glenna's eyes glinted. “I wish that was literal as well as figurative.”

“Get in line. But anyway, maybe she's too busy preparing to move her front to bother harassing us right now.”

“Very likely.”

“I'm going to head down to the war room. We need to work out the fine details of the traps we want to set.”

“Will it make a difference?”

“What do you mean?”

“I've been thinking about it, all of it. What we've done, what they've done.” Glenna rubbed a hand over the top of her chest. “But the time and the place are set. Nothing we do will change that time, that place.”

“No, Morrigan made that clear in our last little chat. But what we do, how we handle the time between now and then will set the tone for that time and place. She was saying that, too. Hey, pal, it's okay to be nervous.”

“Good.” With brisk efficiency, Glenna set vials she'd replenished back in her healing case. “I called my parents today. I told them I'd probably be out of touch for a few weeks. Told them what an incredible time I'm having. I couldn't tell them about any of this, of course. I haven't even told them about Hoyt yet because it's too hard to explain.”

She closed the case and turned. “It's not that I'm not afraid to die. I am, of course—maybe more now than I was when this began. I have more to lose now.”

“Hoyt, and happy ever.”

“Exactly. But I'm prepared to die if that's what it takes. Maybe more now than when this began, for those exact reasons.”

“Love sure can twist you up.”

“Oh boy,” was Glenna's heartfelt agreement. “And I wouldn't change a single moment since I met him. Still, it's so hard, Blair. I have no way of telling my family how
or why if I don't make it through this. They'll never know what happened to me. And that weighs on me.”

“Then don't die.”

Glenna gave a half laugh. “A better idea.”

“I'm sorry. I don't mean to make light of it.”

“No, it's kind of bolstering, actually. But…if anything happens to me, would you take this to my family?” She held out an envelope. “I know it's a lot to ask,” she began when Blair hesitated.

“No, but…Why me?”

“You and Cian have the best chance of coming through this. I can't ask him to do it. They won't understand, even with this, but at least they won't spend the rest of their lives wondering if I'm alive or dead. I don't want to put them through that.”

Blair studied the envelope, the artistic flare of the handwriting forming her parents' names and address. “I tried to contact my father, twice, since this started. E-mail, because I don't actually know where he is. He hasn't answered me.”

“Oh, I'm sorry. He must be out of reach for—”

“No, probably not. He just doesn't answer me, that's fairly typical. And I really need to get over it. It isn't that he wouldn't care. Big vamp war—he'd care. And if I died, he'd be sorry. Because he trained me not to, and going down would be a reflection on him.”

“That sounds harsh.”

“He is.” She looked into Glenna's face, clear-eyed. “And he doesn't love me.”

“Oh, Blair.”

“Time to suck that up, too. Past time. You've got something else here.” She tapped the letter. “And it's important.”

“It is,” Glenna agreed. “But they're not my only family.”

“I get that. What we've got, the six of us? It's one of the good things I've picked up along the way.”

With a nod, Blair tucked the envelope into the back pocket of her jeans. “I'll give this back to you, November first.”

“That'd be good.”

“See you downstairs.”

“Soon. Oh, and Blair? It's nice, you and Larkin. It's nice to see.”

“See what?”

Now Glenna let out a genuine laugh. “What, am I blind? Added to that I have the super X-ray vision of a newlywed. I'm just saying I like the way you are together. It seems like a nice fit.”

“It's just—It's not…I'm not looking for the big, Hollywood finish, the one where the music crescendos and the light goes all pink and pretty.”

“Why not?”

“Just not the way it is. I'll take it a day at a time. People like me look too far down the road, they end up falling into the big hole somebody dug right in front of them.”

“If they don't look far enough or hard enough, they don't see what they were really looking for.”

“Right now, I'll settle for avoiding the hole.”

She headed out. No way to explain, she thought, not to a woman still floating on the wings of new love, that there were some people who just weren't built for it. Some people didn't have that strolling hand-in-hand with the man of their dreams into the sunset in their destiny.

When she strolled into the sunset, she went alone, she went armed and she went looking for death.

Not exactly the stuff of romance and hopeful futures.

She'd tried it once, and it had been a disaster that had blown up in her face. Larkin was no Jeremy, that was for damn certain. Larkin was tougher, and stronger, and sweeter for that matter.

But that didn't change the basics. She had her duty—the mission—and he had his world. Those weren't the elements for a long-term connection.

Her particular branch of the old McKenna family tree would die out with her. She'd made up her mind to that when she'd scraped herself up after Jeremy.

She started to swing toward the stairs, but the music stopped her. Cocking her head, she strained to hear, to recognize. Was that Usher?

Jeez, was Larkin up in the training room fooling around with her MP3? She'd have to kill him.

She jogged up the stairs. It wasn't that she couldn't appreciate the fact he enjoyed her music. But she'd spent a lot of time downloading and setting up that player. He didn't even know how the damn thing worked.

“Listen, cowboy, I don't want you—”

The room was empty, the terrace doors firmly shut. And music poured through the air.

“Okay, weird.” She set her hand on the stake she always carried in her belt, and sidestepped slowly toward the weapons. The lights were on full; nothing could hide in shadows. But she closed her hand over the handle of a scythe.

The music shut off; a switch flicked.

Lora stepped through the wall of mirrors.

“Hello,
cherie.
”

“Nice trick.”

“One of my favorites.” Turning a circle, she seemed to study the room. She wore heeled boots, snug black pants with a fitted jacket that showed a flirty bit of frothy lace between the deep plunge of lapels.

“So, this is where you spar and sweat, and prepare to die.”

“This is where we train to kick your ass.”

“So tough, so
formidable.
” She floated around the room with the spiked heels of those boots gliding just above the floor.

Not here, Blair told herself. Not really here, just the illusion of her. But to prove it, she hurled a stake. And watched it pass right through Lora's figure to embed itself into the wall.

“That was rude.” Lora turned with a little pout. “Hardly a way to welcome a guest.”

“You weren't invited.”

“No, we were interrupted the last time, before you could invite me in. But still, I brought you a present. Something picked just especially for you. I went all the way to America for it. All the way to Boston.”

She did a long, sweeping turn with her eyes bright as suns. “Wouldn't you like to see? Or would you like to guess? Yes, yes, you must guess! Three guesses.”

To show complete lack of interest, Blair stood hip-shot, a hand hooked in the pocket of her jeans. “I don't play games with the undead, Fifi.”

“You're just no fun, are you? But one day we'll have fun, you and I.” She floated closer, running her tongue over fangs before she smiled. “I have so many plans for you. Men have let you down, haven't they? Poor Blair. Withheld their love, and you crying out for it inside.”

“The only thing I'm crying out for is an end to this conversation before it makes me sick.”

“What you need is a woman. What you need…” She trailed a finger in the air, a breath away from Blair's cheek. “Yes,
bien sur
, you need the power and the pleasure I'd give you.”

“I don't go for cheap blondes with silly French accents. Plus the outfit? It's so last week.”

Lora hissed, her head snapping forward as if to bite.

“I'll make you sorry, and I'll make you grovel. Then I'll make you scream.”

Deliberately, Blair widened her eyes. “Golly. Does that mean you don't want to date me anymore?”

With a laugh, Lora spun away. “I like you, I really do. You have, ah…flair. That's why I brought you such a special present. I'll just go get it. Wait one minute.”

She stepped backward, through the mirrors.

“Fuck this,” Blair muttered. She grabbed a crossbow, armed it. With the bow in one hand, the scythe in the other, she began to move cautiously toward the door.

This was Glenna's area, not hers. Time to call in the witch.

But Lora slid through the wall again, and what she pulled with her had Blair's blood freezing.

“No. No, no, no.”

“He is handsome.” Lora slid a tongue down Jeremy's cheek as he struggled against her hold. “I can see why you feel for him.”

“You're not here.” Oh God, his face was bleeding. His right eye swollen nearly shut. “It's not real.”

“Not here, but real. Say hello, Jeremy.”

“Blair? Blair? What's going on? What are you doing here? What's happening?”

“It was so easy.” Lora clamped a hand on his throat, choking him as she lifted him an inch off the floor. And laughing when Blair charged them, flew through them and ran hard against the wall. “I just picked him up in a bar. A few drinks, a few suggestions. Men are deceivers ever. That's Shakespeare. ‘Why don't we go to your place?' was all I needed to whisper into his ear. And here we are.”

She brought him down so his feet touched the ground, but kept her hand around his neck. “I would have fucked him first, but it seemed that would take the shine off the gift.”

“Help me.” He choked it out, wheezing each breath. “Blair, you have to help me.”

“Help me,” Lora mimicked and threw him to the ground.

“Why are you wasting your time with him?” Blair felt her stomach twist as Jeremy crawled toward her. “You want me, come for me.”

“Oh, I will.” Lora leaped, falling on Jeremy. Dragging him to his back, she straddled him. “This weak—yet attractive—human broke your heart. Isn't that so?”

“He dumped me. What do I care what you do to him? You're wasting your time with him when you should be dealing with me.”

“No, no, it's never a waste of time. And caring,
chérie
, is what you do.” Lora clamped a hand over Jeremy's mouth
as he started to scream, then watching Blair, scraped her nail down his cheek to draw fresh blood. She licked it from her fingertip. “Hmm. Fear always gives it such a nice kick. Beg for him. If you beg, I'll let him live.”

“Don't kill him. Please, don't kill him. He means nothing to you. He's not important. Leave him there, just leave him, you got my attention. I'll meet you, alone, wherever you want. Just you and me. We'll settle this. The two of us. We don't need men getting in the way. Don't do this. Ask for something in return. Just ask.”

“Blair.” Lora offered her a sweet, sympathetic smile. “I don't have to ask. I just take. But you begged very well, so I'll…Oh don't be ridiculous. We both know I'm going to kill him. Watch.”

She sank her teeth into him, sliding her body down his as it convulsed in an awful parody of sex. Blair heard herself screaming and screaming. And screaming.

W
hen Larkin rushed in all he saw was Blair
stabbing a stake over and over into the floor. She was weeping as she did it in wild, screaming sobs, and there was a madness on her face.

He ran to her, but when he grabbed for her, she struck out in a blow that bloodied his lip.

“Get away, get away! She's killing him!”

“There's nothing there.” He gripped her wrist, and would have taken another punch if Cian hadn't dragged her back.

She kicked, twisted to attack. Cian slapped her, twice. Hard enough to make the crack of it echo. “Stop. Hysterics are useless.”

Enraged, Larkin leaped to his feet. “Take your hands off her. You think you can strike her?” He might have charged, but Hoyt pinned his arm.

“Hold on a bloody minute.”

Larkin's answer was to rear back, smash his head into Hoyt's jaw even as Glenna sprinted over to stand between
Larkin and Cian. “Just calm down.” Glenna held up her hands. “Just everyone calm down.”

But there was shouting, accusations, and Blair's helpless sobbing.

“
Ciunas
!” Moira's voice cut through the mayhem with a cold authority. “Quiet, all of you. Larkin, he did what needed to be done, so stop this nonsense. Let go of her, Cian. Glenna, get her some water. We need to find out what's happened here.”

When Cian released her, Blair simply melted to the floor. “She's killed him. I couldn't stop her.” She brought up her knees, wrapped her arms around her head as she lowered it. “Oh God, oh my God.”

“You have to look at me now.” Moira crouched down, firmly took Blair's arms and brought them down again. “You have to look at me, Blair, and tell me what happened here.”

“He never believed, not even when I showed him. It was easier to push me away, to throw me away than to believe it. Now he's dead.”

“Who is?”

“Jeremy. Jeremy's dead. She brought him here, so I would see her do it.”

“There's no one here, Blair. No one here, and no one in the house but the six of us.”

“There was.” Glenna passed down the water. “I can feel it.” She looked at Hoyt for confirmation.

“A smear on the air.” He nodded. “A heaviness to it that comes from black magic.”

“She came through the wall, and I thought, now we'll fight. You and me, French bitch.” Though Blair fought to steady it, her voice continued to hitch. “I threw a stake, but it went right through her. She wasn't really here. She…”

“Like on the subway. It happened to me,” Glenna explained. “In New York. A vampire on the subway, but no one else could see it. He spoke to me, it moved, but it wasn't really there.”

“Boston.” Sick to the soul of her, Blair got to her feet. “She went to Boston. I used to live there. It's where I met him—Jeremy. They were in his apartment. She told me where she was. Cian, do you have contacts there?”

“I do.”

She gave him an address. “Jeremy Hilton. Someone needs to check. Maybe she was just messing with me. But if…They have to make sure she didn't change him.”

“I'll take care of it.”

She looked down to where she'd hacked and drilled the steak into the floorboards. “Sorry about the floor.”

“That'd be Hoyt's and Glenna's problem now.” Cian touched her shoulder briefly before he left the room.

“We should go down. You should lie down,” Glenna said. “Or sit at least. I can give you something that will help.”

“No. I don't want anything.” She scrubbed the useless tears away with the heels of her hands. “I knew she'd come back at us, but I never considered, I never thought. Glenna, your family—”

“They're protected. Hoyt and I saw to that. Blair, I'm so sorry we didn't do something for your…for your friend.”

“I never thought of him. Never considered they would…I'm, ah, I'm going to take a few minutes before we get back to work.”

“All you need,” Glenna told her.

Blair looked at Larkin. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry I hit you.”

“It's nothing.” Letting her go, letting her go alone, was more painful than any blow.

 

S
he didn't weep again. Tears wouldn't help Jeremy,
and they certainly wouldn't do her any good.

She contacted her aunt, relayed the details. She could count on family to protect family. In any case, she doubted Lilith, or Lora, any of them would go after people who were prepared, who knew them. And could defend themselves.

They'd chosen the helpless for a very good reason.

It didn't waste time or effort, was low-risk, and very, very effective.

She was absolutely calm when she armed herself, sliding the sword into the sheath on her back, the stake into the one on her belt. Her mind, her purpose were clear as glass when she went outside.

There wouldn't be many, she thought. It was poor strategy to waste more than a handful at this stage. Which was a pity.

They would expect her to be broken, to be shaking and weeping under the covers. That was a mistake.

She watched the two come toward her, from the right and from the left. “Hello, boys. You looking for a party?”

The sword came out of its sheath with the slick sound of metal on metal. She whirled; a quick, two-handed swing. And decapitated the one coming at her from behind.

“Came to the right place.”

When they charged, she was ready. Slicing, piercing, blocking with a sword that sang like vengeance. She took the nick on her forearm. She wanted to feel it, that sting.

They were clumsy, she thought. Young and poorly trained. Fat and soft in the lives they'd led before they'd been turned. Not defenseless, not like Jeremy, but far from seasoned.

She flipped out the stake, eliminated one.

The one that was left dropped its sword, began to run.

“Hey, hey, not done yet.” She chased it, took it down with a flying tackle. Then holding the stake to its heart, stared into eyes filled with fear.

“Got a message for Lora. You know her? The French pastry? Good,” she said when it nodded. “Tell her she was right about one thing. It will be her and me, and when I end her, it's going to be…Oh never mind, I'll tell her myself.”

She plunged the stake down. Rising, she tunneled her fingers through her dripping hair. Then picked up the scattered weapons, and started back to the house.

The door swung open before she reached it, and Larkin stormed out. “Have you gone mad?”

“They weren't expecting it.” She tossed him one of the swords, moved by him into the house. “Only three anyway. Probably clears the ones she's stationed near the house.” She laid the other confiscated swords on the kitchen counter. “And those were lightweights.”

“You'd go out alone? Risk your life this way?”

“I went out alone most of my life,” she reminded him. “And risking my life is part of the job description.”

“It's not a job.”

“A job's exactly what it is.” She poured herself a large mug of coffee. Hands still steady, she noted. Mission accomplished. “I'm going to go dry off.”

“You had no right to take a chance like that.”

“Minimal risk,” she countered as she walked out. “Excellent results.”

When she'd changed her clothes, she joined the others in the library. She could see from their expressions Larkin had informed the rest of the group of her little sortie.

“They were stationed close to the house,” she began. “Likely to try to hear or see something they could pass on. That won't be a problem now.”

“It would have been a problem if there'd been more of them.” Hoyt spoke quietly, but it didn't disguise the steel beneath the words. “It would have been a problem if they'd killed or captured you.”

“Didn't happen. We have to be ready to take opportunities. Not only the six of us, but the people we're going to be sending into battle. They have to be trained, how to kill, when to kill. Not just with sword and stake, but with their bare hands, or whatever comes to hand. Because everything's a weapon. And if they're not trained, if they're not ready, they're just going to stand there and die.”

“Like Jeremy Hilton.”

“Yeah.” She nodded at Larkin, absorbed his anger along
with the weight in her heart. “Like Jeremy. Cian, were you able to find anything out?”

“He's dead.”

She closed off the part of her that wanted to moan. “Could he have been changed?”

“No. There was too much trauma to the body for that.”

“It's still possible he—”

“No.” Cian bit off the word to cut her off. “She ripped him to pieces. It's one of her signatures. He's just dead.”

She let herself sit. Better to sit, she decided, than to fall over.

“There was nothing you could do, Blair,” Moira told her gently. “Nothing you could have done to stop it.”

“No, there was nothing. That was her point—look what I can do, right in front of you, and you're helpless. We were engaged, Jeremy and I, a couple years ago. So I had to tell him—in the end I had to show him—what I am, what I do. He walked out, because he wasn't going to believe it, wasn't going to be part of it. Now it's killed him.”

“She killed him,” Larkin corrected. “Who you are didn't kill him.” He waited until she shifted her gaze, met his eyes. “She wants, very much wants, you to blame yourself. Will you give her that victory?”

“She won't win anything from me.” Tears stung her eyes again, but she willed them back. “I'm sorry, all around. This messes me up, and I have to live with it awhile on my own before I can put it away.”

“We'll put off the meeting.” Glenna glanced around at the others for agreement. “You can take some time.”

“Appreciate it, but work's better. Thinking's better.” If she went upstairs now, were alone now, Blair knew she'd just fall apart again. “So okay. If we're going to set traps on the other side, we'll need to calculate the best locations, and determine how many we'll need on those details.”

“We have more immediate concerns,” Hoyt interrupted.
“The transportation to Geall itself. If Cian's barred from the Dance, he can't reach the portal.”

“There must be an exception.” Moira laid a hand on Blair's shoulder, gave it one hard squeeze before moving aside. “Morrigan chose us, all of us.”

“Maybe she's finished with me.” Cian shrugged. “Gods are fickle creatures.”

“You're one of the six,” Moira insisted. “Without you in Geall, the circle's broken.”

“I could go back to the caves. From the air.” Larkin paced in front of the windows. How could he sit at such a time? “Scout. I might be able to find where they're going through.”

“We can't separate. Not this close to deadline. We stick together now.” Glenna scanned faces, lingering on Blair's. “We stay whole.”

“There's another thing, I think I should mention.” Moira glanced toward Cian. “When Larkin and I went to the Dance in Geall, it was barely midday. It seemed to happen so quickly, the way we were swept up and away. But when we came out here, it was night. I don't think we can know how long it takes, or if time's the same. Or…or if we leave at night as we planned, if it would still be night when we come to Geall.”

“Or high bloody noon.” Cian cast his eyes up. “Isn't that just perfect?”

“There has to be a way to protect him if there's sunlight.”

“Easy for you to say, Red.” Cian rose to get a glass of whiskey. “Your delicate skin may burn a bit in strong sunlight, but you don't go to ash, do you?”

“Some sort of block, Hoyt,” Glenna began.

“I don't think SPF-forty will do the trick,” Cian countered.

“We'll figure it out,” she snapped back. “We'll find a way. We haven't come this far to give up, to leave you behind.”

Blair let them talk, argue, debate. The voices just buzzed around her. She didn't comment, didn't contribute. When Hoyt finally harangued Cian into giving him a sample of blood, she left them to their magic.

 

H
e didn't try to sleep. A half dozen times he
started to go to her room. To offer what? he wondered. Comfort she didn't want, anger she didn't need?

She had suffered a terrible loss, and a hard, hard shock to her heart. She hadn't, perhaps couldn't turn to him. Not even, he thought now, as a fellow warrior.

He couldn't soothe hurts she refused to let him see, or reach wounds she closed in to herself.

She had loved the man, that much was clear. And there was a small part of himself, an ugliness he could despise, that was jealous of the brutalized dead.

So he stood at the window, watching the sun rise on his last day in Ireland.

When someone knocked, he assumed it was Moira. “
Bi istigh.
”

He didn't turn when the door opened, not until Blair spoke. “My Gaelic's pretty crappy, so if that was go to hell, too bad.” She hefted the bottle of whiskey she held in one hand. “I raided Cian's supply. Going to get a little drunk, have a wake for an old friend. Want to join me?”

Without waiting for an answer, she walked over to sit on the floor at the foot of the bed, resting her back against it. She opened the bottle, poured a generous two fingers into each of the glasses she'd brought in.

“Here's to just being dead.” She lifted the glass, tossed back the contents. “Come on, have a drink, Larkin. You can be pissed at me and still have a drink.”

He walked over, lowered to the floor to sit across from her. “I'm sorry you're hurting.”

“I'll get over it.” She handed him the second glass, poured more whiskey in her own. “
Sláinte
.” She tapped the
glasses together, but this time she sipped instead of gulped. “Attachments, my father taught me, were weapons the enemy could use against you.”