Wicked Fantasy (37 page)

“Thanks, but I'll live with it.” Gerry hoped. “I haven't seen Morrigan lately. If she doesn't show up on time, our plan is dead.”
Dead.
Not a good word choice.

“I think she went to Happening Hair this afternoon. Haven't seen her since.” Sparkle's smile was all wicked anticipation. “She'll come out a changed bird. Well, at least her feathers will.”

Sparkle wandered away, leaving Gerry staring at the buffet table. Which was dumb because she couldn't eat anything on it. She couldn't drink whatever was in the glass she was holding, either. But she had to keep her attention on the monitors tucked behind the table so she wouldn't miss Dell if he made an appearance.

On a positive note, she felt great since making love with Conall. Before that, she'd been thinking about searching out a dinner donor. She smiled. Not now. He was a human energy bar.

Startled at Eric's voice in her head, she resisted the urge to turn around.

Gerry swallowed hard. Two feet, twenty-four inches. Didn't sound like much room for error.

Eric's laughter calmed her.
“Don't worry. I'm good. When Morrigan comes in, she'll see the you Dell's seeing. Yeah, I know she's in on the plot, but it'll help her act natural if she has a body to look at.”

“Then what?” Oops, a few vampires noticed her talking to herself.

“You're scary.”
She remembered to say it in her mind this time.

Yeah, but that would be too late to help Conall if he needed her tonight.

Eric's words chilled her from the inside out.

“I don't make those kinds of promises.”
If she saw someone hurting the man she loved, she'd try to tear that someone's throat out. Injured male pride wouldn't stop her.

Eric didn't respond, so she figured they understood each other.

“Please try not to inflict any damage on the great hall.” Holgarth's hat was perfectly centered on his head, signaling that he felt things were reasonably under control. “If you must bleed, do make sure it doesn't splatter. It's difficult to remove from some fabrics.”

Gerry sighed. Her night was complete. “And you're here why?”

“I'm taking my turn chatting with you so things will look normal on the off chance the demon has any cohorts, which I seriously doubt. Only archdemons seem able to mobilize their minions into a fighting force.” The wizard frowned at the buffet spread out on the banquet table. “My God, Ganymede's stomach is a black hole. He's the only one who's touched the food, and it's half gone.”

“Yes, well I hope he's storing up all that energy to heave Dell through the portal.” She shifted her gaze to the next monitor and froze.

A figure in a hooded cloak was approaching the outer door of the great hall. It slowed as it approached the two guardian gargoyles. The cowl hid its face, but Gerry had enhanced vision, and for once she was damn glad of it. She could just make out the features. Yep, he looked a lot like Uncle Ray.

“I see him. Face the hearth and don't turn around no matter what.”
A moment's silence, and then his soft murmur.
“Trust me.”

Holgarth must've recognized what was happening, because he put his hand on her arm. “We'll clean up the blood as long as it's demon blood.” All his usual mockery was gone. “You belong to the Castle of Dark Dreams now. Be safe, Gerry Kavanagh.” He gazed at her from eyes old in power and wisdom. Then he turned and left.

Just before she swung to face the fireplace, Gerry looked for Conall. He stood along with Brynn, Kim, Donna, Edge, Sparkle, and even Banan and Destiny in a semicircle at the edge of the crowd of vampire revelers. Ganymede crouched on the buffet table behind a leafy centerpiece. Eric, Asima, and Morrigan were missing. She allowed herself a moment's worry over the goddess's absence before focusing all her attention on Conall.

He looked poised to break free of Brynn's restraining hand and drag her from the great hall to someplace he considered safe.

She shook her head and smiled at him. Gerry hoped Conall saw the love and confidence in her eyes. Okay, so the confidence was a big, fat fake, but the love was as real as it got.

Conall relaxed marginally, but his jaw was still in lock-down as he fought his need to do
something
.
Now.
He concentrated on slowing his breathing, his pounding heart, and his doomsday imagination.

Gerry and he had some of the most powerful entities Conall knew on their side. He had to believe Eric wouldn't let anything happen to her. Conall just couldn't get it out of his head, though, that keeping her safe was
his
job.

He didn't turn around to look at the door, but after 800 years Conall was sensitive enough to feel the sudden psychic hum from the more powerful entities around him. The demon was in the hall.

Endless seconds stretched into forever, and then a hooded and cloaked figure slipped past him. The mad-monk look wasn't unusual on the night of the Vampire Ball. Guests interpreted the vampire look in strange ways.

The demon paused a short distance from Gerry and glanced across the hall, where Eric's manipulation of reality had convinced him Conall was.

Conall still couldn't see the face inside the hood, but he knew. He hoped his smile looked as savage as he felt.
I don't know the how or why, but it doesn't matter. It'll end the same way it did 800 years ago, with you in hell.
He gathered himself, wanting to launch himself across the short distance separating them.

“Don't.” Brynn's warning brought a little sanity back to him.

Conall had to let this play out, trust everyone to know their parts. He watched the demon reach beneath his cloak and slide out a stake. The spirits of all his warrior ancestors shouted for him to strike the creature down that threatened his woman.

He clenched his fists, digging his nails into his palms, welcoming the pain. The battles he'd fought were easy compared to this.
This
was the hardest thing he'd ever done—watching and doing nothing.

Drawing in a harsh breath, he unclenched his fists. She'd want him to have confidence in her, to trust her ability to do this, and because he loved her, he forced back his need for instant violence. She'd never know what that control cost him.

The demon edged closer and raised his stake. And as the stake started its deadly downward arc, Conall felt a slight shift in his reality. He blinked away the sensation, and when he looked again, Gerry lay on the floor, a stake sticking out of the left side of her back.

Only the sight of the real Gerry standing frozen a few feet from the demon kept him from roaring his agony. As quickly as he looked back at the image of the dead Gerry, it was gone. The demon was crouched over an empty spot on the floor.

Uneasy murmurs rose from everyone in the hall as Eric allowed them to see the reality of what was happening. Eric stood off to the side. He stared at the crowd and they suddenly stilled. Conall didn't need anyone to tell him Eric had spread the word mentally.

Now that Eric didn't need to expend his power on anyone else, he focused all his attention on the demon. Conall knew exactly how potent that attention could be.

The demon rose from his crouch and slowly scanned the entities that formed a semicircle around him. His gaze froze on Conall and only an angry hiss revealed his shock that he was trapped. Then he flung back his hood to glare at Conall.

“Hello, Sean. Let me guess, hell couldn't hold you.” Conall wished he'd gotten a look at Sean sooner, but then Sean had made sure he didn't.

His old enemy's face was the same, but not. The short hair changed his look a little, and the pale eyes that were changing to glowing red even as Conall watched sure added a new touch. It was Gerry's description of Dell's pale eyes that had thrown him off. Eight hundred years ago, Sean had the same green eyes as Gerry. Evidently hell faded them out a little.

Sean ignored everyone but Conall. “I've waited eight hundred years for this, O'Rourke. The devil liked my vengeful attitude so he raised me to demon status. Then I spent the next eight centuries killing off my descendants.” He frowned. “They were all like me, fucking everything in sight. There were so many I never thought I'd get rid of them all.” His frown vanished, and he smiled. He glanced down at the spot where he was seeing Gerry's image. “Now the last one is gone.”

“And?” Where the hell was Morrigan? A quick glance at Gerry caught her horrified expression. He didn't blame her. She'd never known Sean, so she wouldn't understand the kind of evil that would drive someone to kill those of his own blood.

“Morrigan will release you from your curse. You should thank me.” His eyes glowed red with hate. “Well, maybe not. Because once you're human again, we can finish our battle.” Sean glanced at the menacing faces surrounding him. “Unless you intend to let your friends do your fighting for you.”

Sean understood him. He knew Conall's pride wouldn't let him hide behind someone else.

“They won't interfere.” Conall refused to look at Gerry. Seeing her fear for him would weaken his will. And he needed to do this for Gerry—who could be lying dead on the floor—for himself, and for all those dead Kavanaghs who'd died because of Sean's hatred of him.

“Call Morrigan.” Sean's eagerness for his death lived in his narrowed eyes, his bared teeth.

As if on cue, the sound of chanting along with the blare of a boom box with the bass turned up so high the floor vibrated filled the great hall.

“I'm the goddess, bow down.” Boom, boom, thump, thump of the bass.

Every vampire in the room covered their ears. The rap rhythm set on high volume had to be hell on enhanced hearing.

“She's the goddess, she's the goddess.” A chorus of voices with more bass thumping.

“Yo, I'm lean, I'm mean, I'm the goddess, bow down.” Boom, boom, thump, thump.

Conall winced. Talk about bad rhyming.

“She's the goddess, she's the goddess.” The chorus voices got louder along with the bass.

Everyone's gaze riveted on Morrigan as she finally entered the great hall. One of the visiting vampires shouted to be heard above the bass, “Hey, this is a lot more fun than trolling the clubs for dinner.”

Conall sucked in his breath and then exhaled on a huff of disbelief. Morrigan's tail feathers were dyed different shades of red, blue, purple, and green. The feathers on top of her head were the same colors and stuck up straight in the air. She had glitter sprinkled along the length of her wings.

“I decide who lives or dies. Stay outta my way if you're wise.” She didn't deign to look left or right as a path opened for her.

“She's the goddess, she's the goddess.” Boom, boom, thump, thump. Morrigan's chorus of five crows followed behind her.

“I gotta do what I gotta do. Get in my way and I'll make you pay.” She stopped in front of the spot where Sean thought Gerry's body lay.

“She's the goddess. She's the goddess.” Boom, boom, thump, thump.

“Oh, for all that's sane, I can't stand this.” Holgarth's voice somewhere in the crowd.

“Wow, Happening Hair really outdid themselves this time. Looks like she's living the moment.” Sparkle sounded somewhere between amused and awed.

Morrigan circled the body Eric had made sure only Sean and she could see. “She's dead. That's what I said. She's dead.”

“She's dead, she's dead.” Boom, boom, thump, thump. At least they'd changed up the chorus a little.

“I . . .” Morrigan glanced up at Sean. She stilled.

Conall didn't like the feel of that stillness. Morrigan obviously had just realized who the demon was. Sean had been her favorite, but 800 years was a long time.

“Hello, Morrigan.” For a moment, Sean's eyes lost their red glow and a smile touched his lips. “You always could make an entrance. I'm looking forward to seeing you in your true form again. I've missed you.”

And Conall got a glimpse of the man he'd once known, the one who hid his viciousness under a surface layer of humor and charm.

The goddess finally looked away from Sean. “I remove my curse from Conall O'Rourke. He's as he was eight hundred years ago.” The shock of seeing Sean had taken her right out of her rapping-crow persona.

Conall took a deep breath. He felt different. But he
shouldn't
feel different. Morrigan was simply supposed to say the words so Sean would think he'd have an easy kill. Trying to ignore his budding suspicion, Conall pulled his sword from his back scabbard.

Sean threw off his cloak and drew his own sword.

“A tux? So, is your return-to-hell party a formal affair?” Conall knew his smile didn't reach his eyes.

Sean's smile was a mere baring of his teeth. “I've developed a sense of style over the centuries. You're still the same savage you were eight hundred years ago.” He flung himself at Conall.