“What the fuck was that?” Ayers demanded, his voice a bit too high.
Jim turned to bare his teeth. “Your curtain call.”
As one, he and Faith bounded toward Ayers. She circled to the chief’s left and went after him, forcing him to defend himself from her slashing claws as he retreated—right into Jim’s waiting hands. As Faith turned to fend off Reynolds, he grabbed Ayers by the muzzle and whipped his other arm around the rogue’s throat, jerking him violently off his feet. The werewolf flailed, raking Jim’s face with his claws, ripping at his ears. Jim gritted his teeth and jerked, snapping Ayers’s neck with a crack.
He dropped the chief’s body and turned to meet Granger’s furious charge. The red-furred were struck out at his eyes with his claws. Jim blocked, just as Faith, ducking Reynolds’s roundhouse, suddenly spun in and rammed her clawed foot against the side of Granger’s knee. The joint snapped. The rogue toppled with a howl of agony. Jim stepped forward and kicked like a football player going for a field goal, catching the rogue right under the chin. The force of the blow flipped him up and over to land on his head. His body toppled with a thud, neck unnaturally twisted.
Jim turned. Young and Reynolds had gone after Faith in a flurry of snapping teeth and ripping claws. Jim plowed into the heavyset were’s side, knocking him into the wall. Young twisted, raking Jim’s shoulders with his claws, trying to rip his neck with his teeth. Jim ducked his head, protecting himself, feeling Faith running up behind them through their Link. Before Young could get a grip, she dragged back his head and raked her claws across his throat. Yelping, he transformed to wolf form—and Jim broke his back.
Dropping the furry corpse, Jim turned just in time to sense Reynolds’s fist hitting Faith through their Link. Her pain made him stagger, and he looked around to see the rogue smirking down at her. “Remember me?”
Jim leaped on him with a bellow. “Remember me, you son of a bitch?” They hit the ground together, clawing and biting.
Faith shook off the punch, rolled to her feet, and dove into the fray.
She and Jim went after the rogue without mercy, each feeling the other’s intentions through their new psychic bond. Reynolds quickly realized the last place he wanted to be was in a close quarters fight with the two of them, so he tore himself free and raced off. They followed, grimly intent.
As Jim went for Reynolds’s throat, forcing the rogue to back away, Faith raced around to his rear and hamstrung him with rake of her claws. He went down with a bellow, sending a last vicious kick into Jim’s gut. Jim fell back, the wind knocked out of him.
Cursing, the rogue tried to regain his feet, realized his muscles wouldn’t obey, and transformed to wolf to scuttle away. Faith pounced, in no mood to give the bastard any mercy. God knew he’d never had any for anyone else. A swipe of her claws sent him flying into the pit wall. She started to jump him, then thought better of it and held back, letting him transform again. Reynolds hadn’t had to Change as often in as short a time as Jim, but he had to be pushing his limits by now.
To her disappointment, he didn’t burn. Instead, he faced her in Dire Wolf form, panting, his eyes flicking to Jim’s as the big man moved around to his left. “You really think you can win?”
Faith’s grin was slow and nasty. “We’re doing pretty well so far.”
Jim just bared his fangs as they gathered themselves to charge. The rogue scuttled away from them both, fear in his eyes. He shot a look up at Celestine, who stood watching from the top of the pit. The rest of her vampires surrounded her, wearing identical expressions of hot anticipation.
Faith, following his gaze, saw the witch held an ornate gold cup in one hand. Was that the grail everybody was after?
“Celestine!” Reynolds called. “Help me, dammit! They’re cutting me apart!”
There was absolutely no pity on the vampire’s face as she leaned over the pit, contempt in her eyes. “And you deserve nothing better. You had six-to-one odds on London, and he beat you all anyway.” She smiled coldly, tauntingly, and toasted him with a mocking lift of the grail. “But you’ve done a really good job of feeding the rest of us. Thanks.”
Reynolds stared up at her in growing fury. “You’re just going to let them kill me?”
She shrugged. “Why not? Afterward, we’ll kill them. Eight magical sacrifices are a lot better than two.”
Oh, she is a bitch, Faith thought. She exchanged a worried look with Jim, realizing the vampire witch might be able to carry out her threat.
Reynolds stopped retreating to stare up at his former colleagues in helpless fury. “You’re all just going to stand there and watch?”
“Well, Keith,” one of them drawled. “You always were a bit of an asshole.”
Sheer, blazing hate leaped in the werewolf’s eyes as he returned his attention to his former mistress. “Remember when I told you a thirty-foot pit was too deep for a werewolf to jump out of?”
She lifted an arrogant brow. “Yes.”
“I lied.” Reynolds sprinted across the pit and threw himself at the edge. Catching the marble lip, he vaulted over it, slamming into the witch before she had time to scream.
The grail shot from her hands, revolved lazily, and hit the pit floor with a clang. Jim and Faith stared at the cup as it rolled across the ground, then dove for it simultaneously. As Jim scooped it up, a thunderous magical boom sounded, followed by a piercing female shriek.
The vampires howled. So did Reynolds.
Something plummeting over the lip of the pit, accompanied by Celestine’s scream of fear and fury. The witch hit the ground with a meaty thud and a splatter of blood.
For a moment, Faith and Jim stared at the still body as the howls and screams increased in volume overhead. They exchanged a cautious glance and started toward the fallen witch.
“Get away!” The hiss was low and broken, but it stopped them in their tracks.
Celestine lifted her head. Her eyes glared wildly from a blood-smeared face. She peeled her lips back from her fangs as she fought to roll onto her side, freeing her right hand.
It was glowing.
“I’m going to heal myself,” she snarled, “and them I’m gonna fuckin’ kill you if it’s the last fuckin’ thing I do!”
“No,” Faith growled, “not this time.”
She didn’t hesitate as she pounced on the vampire. Ignoring Celestine’s clawing hands and the death spell they sent sizzling into her fur, Faith grabbed the witch’s head and gave it a ruthless, efficient jerk. Something cracked, and Celestine went limp.
Faith let the body fall, and stepped back, swallowing hard.
She looked up to meet Jim’s compassionate silver gaze. “You had no choice.”
“Yeah.” Faith straightened, feeling exhausted to the bone. “That’s why I did it.” Her attention fell on the grail he still cradled in one big hand. “Think there’s any way we can destroy that thing? I’d love to get rid of the rest of these damned vampires without yet another battle to the death.” She’d had about all of that she could stomach.
He frowned. “I think it takes some kind of magical spell. Just stomping on it won’t do the job.”
“Too bad.” Faith bit her lip and looked upward, dreading the coming fight. “Damn, I wish we could do magic. A gate spell would come in really handy right now. We’re going to have a hell of a time getting out of here.”
He shrugged and tucked the grail in the curve of his arm like a football. “No time like the present.”
Together, they backed up several paces, then ran for the other side of the pit and leaped.
But as they scrambled over the lip, a glowing sword blade blocked their way. Startled, they looked upward.
An armored knight stood there at the edge of the pit.
Before Jim could get a word out of his mouth, the knight lifted his sword and started to hack down right at their heads. His battle cry rang over the screams of the battling vampires. “For Avalon and for Merlin!”
“Shit.” Jim pushed Fai
th aside and rolled in the opposite direction. As they scrambled to their feet and danced away from their furious armored attacker, they realized more than a dozen knights were locked in combat with the vampires. “Charlie’s going to have a stroke.”
Behind him, Faith saw a woman preparing to hurl a ball of energy at his head. “Stop!” she yelled, throwing up her hands in an I’m unarmed gesture. “We’re the good guys!”
Jim lunged forward and grabbed the knight’s wrists before he could bring the sword down on her head. “I’m Llyr Galatyn’s brother-in-law!”
The warrior sneered and tried to jerk his wrists free of Jim’s clawed fingers. “Prove it.”
“Okay.” Jim opened his free hand, revealing the cup he still held. “Llyr told me you guys are looking for this.”
The knight’s eyes went wide behind the slits in his visor. “Gwen?”
The woman stared, the spell she was about to cast winking out. “That’s it! Arthur, it’s the Black Grail!”
Arthur? Faith thought, startled. King Arthur?
Cautiously, Jim released the knight and offered him the cup. Giving him a wary look, Arthur took it.
As Jim and Faith watched and vampires battled around them, Arthur handed the Black Grail to his wife. With a flick of her delicate fingers, she opened a dimensional gate.
The four of them watched as the gate lifted into the air and rotated until it hung open and waiting over their heads.
Gwen began to chant, the words rising over the chaos of the raging battle. Her right hand began to glow as the spell took shape within it.
Faith caught her breath in wonder as the Maja tossed the Black Grail skyward and flung the energy blast at it with a final incomprehensible shout. The blast hit the grail with a silent, blinding burst of light.
Celestine’s vampires froze, shouting in alarm, as if they’d finally sensed something. The cup began to glow, brighter and brighter until Faith was forced to shield her eyes.
Then the Black Grail exploded.
Spikes of power shot outward, slamming into the former cops, lighting them up until they blazed like stars, their mouths open in soundless screams. One by one, they vanished in a salvo of silent explosions.
Simultaneously, the energy spilled into the gate overhead in a flood of white-hot force. Distant screams of terror sounded, growing louder as more voices joined the rising death shriek.
Until it cut off.
Blinking, Jim and Faith looked at each other, each feeling the other’s moment of stunned relief.
“Fuck you.”
The werewolves and Magekind turned in surprise as a trembling furred figure rose from the seared floor beside the pit. Reynolds’s feral eyes met theirs from the mask of red that was his face. He was covered in blood. With an involuntary start of pity, Faith realized the vampires had bitten him over and over.
“You haven’t beaten me, you bastards,” the were rasped. “I’m going to kick all your asses.” He reached for the magic.
And screamed as he began to burn. Blazing, he staggered, clawing at the flames, shrieking in pain. For just a heartbeat, his gaze met Faith’s in fear and pleading.
Then, mercifully, he vanished.
“What the fuck was that?” Arthur demanded, frowning at the empty space the rogue had occupied.
Jim sighed. “That’s…a long story. And it’s past time you heard it.”
TWENTY
Charlie Myers was sitting in front of his TV in a wife-beater shirt and stripped boxers when Arthur Pendragon, King Llyr Galatyn, and Jim stepped through the dimensional gate.
The Dire Wolf chieftain gaped at them for a beat, a beefy, florid man with a receding hairline. Who had, Jim thought, entirely too much power for his intellect.
At last his stunned paralysis broke. “You told him?” Charlie roared at Jim in fury, leaping out of his easy chair, his face reddening.
“If you transform,” Jim told him coldly, “I’m going to kick your ass.”
“I’ll help,” Arthur drawled, resting one armored hand on Excalibur’s hilt.
“And I will put you on a leash,” Llyr snarled, moving to tower over Charlie. A tall, muscular Sidhe, he was dressed in a dark gray Armani suit that provided a stark contrast with his pale waterfall of hair. Something moved across his chest with the flap of wings and a lashing forked tail—the mark of the Dragon God, Cachamwri. Its agitated flight was an indicator of how pissed off Llyr really was.
Charlie’s eyes flicked to the dragon, disconcerted, before he frowned and drew himself to what passed for his full height. His voice rang with self-righteous certainty. “Merlin himself—”
“Was my friend and ally,” Llyr snapped back. “And he would have been appalled to see the Direkind sit back like cowards while we fight vampires you were designed to kill! I have lost three hundred warriors while you”—he curled a regal lip at the Bud on the arm of Charlie’s recliner—“Sit around drinking beer.”
“And I’ve lost a hell of a lot more people than that,” Arthur growled. “There are another two thousand of Geirolf’s vampires left. And you, by God, are going to help us find that last Black Grail and kill them!”
Unease flickered in Charlie’s eyes. He took a step back, lifting his pudgy hands. “That’s not our responsibility! Our job is keeping the Magekind in check.” He shot Jim a glare that promised bloody retribution. “Which we can’t do with everybody fucking knowing about us.”
“We don’t need to be kept in check!” Arthur roared back, in a fine royal rage.
“Merlin—”
“If they were going to lose control,” Llyr interrupted, his icy rage a chilling counterpoint to Arthur’s fury, “it would have been in the first two hundred years. It’s been sixteen centuries—the danger is long past.”
Charlie sneered. “You’re just saying that because you married that bitch Diana, and—”
Llyr grabbed him by the throat and smashed him into the wall so hard the house shook. “One word,” he hissed. “One more word, and you die!”
Charlie’s eyes widened. Jim half expected him to transform, but he simply froze, obviously unable to move.
“I took an oath to Merlin to keep your secret,” Llyr continued in that low, frigid whisper, “Do you think I would have married one of you, knowing it would all come out, had there been any need for secrecy any longer?” The smell of Sidhe magic rose, wild and deadly. “When I give an oath, I keep it.” He bared his teeth. “So please believe me when I tell you it’s time to come out of the kennel!”
Jim’s lips twitched to hear the king use Diana’s favorite phrase.
Charlie threw a glare at Jim. “I guess we don’t have a choice, do we?”
Suddenly Jim had enough. “Give us a moment, gentlemen, would you? Open another gate and go have a beer, or whatever it is you drink.”
Llyr and Arthur looked at him, then at Charlie. For a moment, he thought one or the other would protest.
Then Llyr released Charlie and flicked his royal fingers. The two weres watched as he and Arthur stepped back through the gate.
“You stupid fuck,” Charlie snarled the second the gate winked out. “I’m going to order your entire family sanctioned.”
“No, you’re not.” The magic poured into Jim in a hot, heady rush. It was stronger than it had ever been now that he was Linked with Faith, and he suspected his Dire Wolf form was even bigger now.
A Dire Wolf again, he peeled his lips back from his teeth. “Change, Charlie. Come on. I dare you.”
The chieftain took a step back as his eyes widened in alarm. They both knew he couldn’t take Jim in a fight. “You wouldn’t.”
“Oh, wouldn’t I?” He flexed his claws.
Charlie dropped his eyes.
“Pussy.” Jim growled in disgust and called the magic again. “Llyr’s right,” he said when he was human once more. “Our secrecy has turned us into cowards. Arthur should have been able to count on us as allies against those monsters, instead of turning to the Sidhe.”
“Yes, it was. It’s past time we started pulling our own weight, and you know it. Call a meeting of the clans, Charlie. Tonight. We need to meet with Arthur and Llyr and decide how to kill the rest of these bastards.”
Charlie stared at him. “The clans are going to blame me—and you, too.”
“Not after Llyr and Arthur get through with them. Call the meeting, Charlie.”
With a sigh, the chieftain picked up the phone.
Faith lay naked on a mound of pillows as the sun streamed down on her from the skylight overhead. A couple of feet away, Jim stood wearing only a pair of worn, paint-smeared jeans, a brush in one big hand as he worked at a huge canvas.
A week had passed since the showdown with Celestine and the vampires. There had been so many questions to answer, so many loose ends to tie up, they’d barely been able to steal any time together. And when they had, they hadn’t done much talking.
“So how’d the latest meeting with the clans go?” she asked, enjoying the heat of the sunlight on her face.
There had been three clan conferences so far as the Direkind, Sidhe, and Magekind met to decide on a strategy for finding and destroying the last of Geirolf’s vampires. The first had been the most personally nerve-racking, since for a while Faith had thought the gathered weres would kill her and Jim both before they had a chance to speak.
Luckily, Llyr had come to their defense with a combination of eloquence and terrifying power. Not even the Direkind, it seemed, wanted to piss off the Heir to Heroes.
Which also meant nobody was inclined to lay one hostile claw on Llyr’s in-laws, the London clan.
Now Jim shrugged and leaned closer to the canvas, plying his brush in tight, skillful strokes. “It was pretty ugly for the first hour or two—the Dire Wolf from Russia still isn’t happy the Magekind knows our secret. But then Arthur and Llyr went to work on him, and he ended up on-board. How’d your interview with the Atlanta chief go?”
“Surprisingly well. Turns out they fired Ron.”
Master of Wolves Page 27
