Bite. Part 22

Galahad dropped onto the bed and twisted around to reach into one of the stone niches. He pulled out a bottle and a couple of gla.s.ses. "There are two more floors below-a pool room and a library."

Caroline turned to look at him. "That's it? In the whole house?"

He shrugged, pouring the contents of the bottle into the gla.s.ses. "Hey, what else do I need? I don't eat anything that's not in the magic wet bar here. Any visitors who need something more substantial are probably Majae, and they can conjure their own food."

"You've got a point." She crossed the room to look down. Jutting from the cliff thirty feet below and off to the left was another circular platform. A pool s.h.i.+mmered in the center of it, its surface rippling from the waterfall tumbling down the cliff to splash into one end. "I've got to admit, this is impressive."

"Morgana built it for me." He walked over and handed her a gla.s.s.

Caroline took it. "How'd you get her to do that?"

"We were lovers at the time."

"You banged the dragon lady? You are brave."

"That's exactly what my brother knights said." He smiled a little dryly and took a sip. "We lasted an entire decade before I

managed to p.i.s.s her off. I still hold the record for longest-running relations.h.i.+p with Morgana Le Fay."

"Hey, better than I did with Dominic." Caroline swallowed a mouthful from her own gla.s.s, shuddered at the taste, and turned it into Pepsi. "Do you always drink like this?" Galahad shot her a look. "I'm a vampire, Caroline. The only drinking problem I have is making sure I've got a date on Sat.u.r.day night."

"You silver-tongued romantic, you."

His smile was wicked. "I didn't hear you complaining."

Caroline turned to watch as he walked back across the room in that muscular, long-legged stalk of his. d.a.m.n, the man looked

good even wearing more metal than a can of tuna.

It was probably just as well it was so close to dawn. Given her romantic track record, it probably wouldn't be a good idea to yield to Galahad's potent temptation. He sank down on the bed and slumped, looking tired. "Can you help me with my armor? I doubt I have time to take it all off before the sun comes up."

"Sure. Where do you want it?"

He gestured vaguely. "Over there's fine."

Caroline cast a quick spell, and the suit vanished from his body to take up residence in a neat pile. Her own joined it an instant

later.

Galahad looked down at the pair of silk pajama bottoms she'd given him to replace it. "Nice. Thanks." He rubbed absently at his chest. "And I'm clean, too. Aren't you efficient?"

She shrugged and straightened the hem of her own cotton pajamas. "That's the nice thing about magic. It's a great time-saver."

As he rose to pull down the covers, it suddenly occurred to her there was only one bed. But before any real alarm could set in,

she got a good look at his back and forgot about everything else. A rainbow of sc.r.a.pes and bruises decorated his ribs. "What happened to you?"

He glanced up at her as he slid under the covers. "Got into a fight with a pedophile earlier tonight. b.a.s.t.a.r.d had an axe. Armor kept it from cutting me in half, but the impact was a b.i.t.c.h." A pained grunt escaped him as he lay back.

Concerned, Caroline crossed the room to his side, frowning. "You want me to heal that?"

He shrugged. "My body will take care of it by sunset. It's one of the few kinds of magic I do have."

"But you're hurting now. Let me fix it." She could see the pain in his eyes, and it bothered her.

Reaching out a hand, Caroline rested her fingers against the side of his face and reached for her magic. Carefully, she sent it into him in the same gentle stream she used tending her own aches, seeking out his injuries and healing them. As she watched, the bruises faded and disappeared.

He sighed and relaxed. "Thanks."

Caroline shrugged and dropped her hand, feeling oddly shy. "Least I could do after you helped me with Father Fang and Teen b.i.t.c.h."

"My pleasure, more or less." Galahad settled back against the mound of pillows. "You know, there's more than room enough for

two in here."

"Honey, there's room enough for the Was.h.i.+ngton Red-skins in that bed."

"Now there is a thoroughly unpleasant image."

Caroline gave him a wicked grin. "Depends on your point of view."

What the h.e.l.l. She was too tired to conjure another bed anyway. She moved around to the other side and flipped the comforter

back, then slid between the fine silk sheets. They felt deliciously cool and smooth against her tired body.

With a sigh of pleasure, she snuggled in and looked at the horizon just beginning to pinken over the mountains. "Why don't you live in Avalon like everybody else? I figured you for a castle or something."

"I was never one for conspicuous consumption. Besides, sometimes I just don't need to be around people." He paused, and

something a little dark moved behind his eyes. "I kill too many of them."

She bit her lip, painfully reminded of the girl she'd blasted. "Yeah. I guess I can understand that."

"It's nice to come here and look out at the stars and watch the dragons."

Caroline straightened. "You've got dragons? Here? You're kidding me!"

"Nope. They don't come around Avalon much. Too many people." He extended a brawny arm to point at a winged shape turning

lazy circles out over the mountains. "There's one now."

She saw it breathe a long, lacy plume of flame. "Wow! Why did it do that?"

"Probably just target practice." He slid an arm around her.

She rested her head against his shoulder, watching the dragon. "What happens when the sun comes up?"

"The spell barrier filters out most of the light." Galahad rested his temple against hers. His late-night stubble rasped over her hair,

the sensation oddly sensual. "Sometimes if I watch, I can just see the first little bit of the dawn."

They fell silent as the horizon slowly blushed rose behind the mountains. Another dragon came out to chase the first, dancing in the

rising currents of magic. A sliver of bright disk edged upward.

"Look," Galahad said, his voice soft. "There it..."

But when Caroline lifted her head, his eyes were closed. He sprawled halfway across the bed, his muscular arms flung wide, his

dark hair tangled around his tired face. She caught her breath at his raw male beauty. Something in her chest contracted into a tight, aching ball.

Dammit, Caroline, don't you dare fall for him. Maybe she ought to conjure that second bed after all.

But before she could do it, she caught a glimpse of movement at the corner of her eye.

The dragon hung in the air looking in at her, its great wings beating lazily. Scales s.h.i.+mmered in the rising sun, green and blue dancing along the whipping tail. Its head was long and elegant and oddly delicate compared to the solid muscle of its body. Its eyes met hers, glowing iridescent in the light of dawn, intelligent and alien. Then it turned and flew away.

With a sigh, Caroline lay her head back down on Galahad's chest to watch.

T HE dull gold of Geirolf's Grail was worked with naked human figures writhing together like a nest of mating snakes. They seemed engaged in every possible perversion. And a good portion of them seemed to be killing the others.

Fascinated, Marilyn turned the cup between her palms, studying it as she waited for the sun to rise. She'd found it on Steve's body after she'd killed him, along with a note from the priest's daughter.

Terri Grange had apparently had a little crush on her father's lieutenant, which was why she'd transported it into the pack he carried in case his magic ran out. The note she'd included said she hadn't warned him she was sending it because she was afraid of distracting him during battle.

The key to everything was slung around his waist, and he hadn't even known it. Marilyn rather appreciated the irony.

Now he and his supporters were dead. And so, her magic told her, was the priest and that little b.i.t.c.h, Terri.

The remaining members of the cult had been quick to see logic. They all knew Marilyn had a way with a spell. And between betraying Steve and the other kills she'd racked up, she had more than enough power for some very nasty magic.

Which didn't mean she had any intention of taking on the witch and the vampire knight Terri had described in her magic note. At least, not yet. For one thing, the cult's headquarters were located in Virginia-two time zones later than the Texas farmhouse they now occupied. The sun had already risen there, so it wasn't a good idea to gate back.

Besides, there were only fifteen members of the cult left. Marilyn wanted better odds when they went after their Magekind foes, which was why she decided the cult would camp for the night in their defeated enemy's headquarters.

Luckily she'd found several intriguing cages in the attic, stocked with p.i.s.sed-off prisoners. To Marilyn's experienced eye, the ten men looked like a nice, beefy collection of potential warriors. Apparently the eco-terrorists had planned to magically recruit them once they got their hands on the cup.

Which gave Marilyn an idea. A little brainwas.h.i.+ng, a shot from the cup, a murder or two for power and blood, and they'd be ready to give Arthur's idiots the shock of their lives.

She couldn't wait.

T HE stench rolled out of the darkness in waves. Fear gripped Galahad, sick and cold, but he knew his duty. He took a deep

breath, reached down, caught the rope handle of the trapdoor, and pulled. It creaked upward, carrying the smell of rotting meat.

Mentally bracing himself, he aimed the enchanted gem set in his gauntlet down into the hole and activated it with a whispered chant. White light spilled from it.

The little corpses lay naked, piled like dolls tossed aside by a s.a.d.i.s.tic child. "Oh, Merlin's Grail," he whispered hoa.r.s.ely. "No."

As he stared helplessly, one of the bodies stirred. For a moment, his heart stopped, thinking perhaps the boy had somehow survived.