Dance of the Gods (9 page)

It was handy, and effective.

And damn sexy.

There were times he made her impatient. He was a bit
too impulsive, and often showy. Errol Flynning it, she thought. And showoffs often ended up in the ground.

But when it came down to it, if she had to pick the people she'd want fighting beside her in the battle to save the world, she wouldn't have chosen differently.

But even soldiers in the war to end wars needed to eat, to do laundry, and take out the trash.

Blair took the supply run because she wanted, desperately, to get out of the house. Two days of rain had limited outdoor activities, and made her edgy. If one person, just one, said that the rain is what made Ireland green, she'd split their head open with an ax.

Added to it, since the night of her close encounter with Lora, there'd been no sign of the enemy. The lull ruffled that edge and added twitchy.

Something was brewing. Bound to be brewing.

She had preferred to go alone, to have a couple of hours to herself, with her own thoughts, her own company. But she hadn't been able to argue it was an unnecessary risk.

But she'd drawn the line at giving Larkin a driving lesson on their way into Ennis.

“I don't know why I couldn't do it,” he complained. “I've watched Glenna drive the thing. And she's taught Hoyt.”

“Hoyt drives like an old blind man from Florida.”

“I don't know what that means, except it's an insult of some kind. I could do better than he does, with this, or the beauty Cian keeps in the stable.”

“Garage. You keep cars in a garage, and Cian's made it clear he'll bite and drain anyone who touches his Jag.”

“You could teach me on this one.” He reached over to trail his finger down the side of her neck. “I'd be a fine student.”

“Charm won't work.” She flipped on the radio. “There, listen to the music and enjoy the ride.”

He cocked his head. “That sounds a bit like home.”

“Irish station, traditional music.”

“It's wonderful, isn't it, that you can have music at the
snap of a finger. Or move so fast from one place to another in a machine.”

“Not in Chicago traffic. You do a lot of sitting and cursing instead of moving.”

“Tell me about your Chicago.”

“It's not my Chicago. Just where I've been based the last couple of years.”

“It was the Boston before that.”

“Yeah.” But Boston was Jeremy, and she'd had to get away from it. “Chicago. It's, ah, it's a city. Major city in the Midwest of the U.S. On a lake—big-ass lake.”

“Do you fish in it, this lake?”

“Fish? Me? No. I guess people maybe do. Ah…they sail on it. Water sports and stuff. It's wicked cold in the winter, wind like you wouldn't believe. Lake effect, a lot of snow, bone-chilling cold. But, I don't know, it's got a lot happening. Restaurants, great shopping, museums, clubs. Vampires.”

“A big city? Bigger than Ennis?”

“A lot bigger.” She tried to think what he'd make of the El, and just couldn't.

“How is it that if it's such a large city with so many people, they haven't banded together to fight against the vampires?”

“They don't believe in them, or if some do, they pretend they don't. If somebody gets attacked, or gets dead, they put it down to gangs, or sick bastards. Mostly the vamps keep a low profile—or they did until recently. Prey on the homeless or runaways, transients. People other people don't miss.”

“There were legends in Geall of creatures that haunted the night, preyed on humans long ago. I never believed them, until the queen—my aunt—was killed by them. And even then…”

“It's hard to believe what you've been taught is fantasy, or the impossible. So you put up the shield. It's natural.”

“But not you.” He studied her profile. It was strong, yes,
but with such a pretty curve of cheek, and that dark, dark hair such a lovely contrast to the white of her skin. “You've always known. Do you ever wish it otherwise? That you were one of the people with the shields. Who never knew?”

“No point in wishing for what you can't have.”

“What's the point of wishing for what you can and do?” he countered.

He had a point, Blair decided. He usually did if you listened long enough.

She found a spot in a car park, dug out the money for the ticket. Larkin just stood, hands in the pockets of the jeans Glenna had bought him on some earlier trip, looking at everything.

It was a relief not to be asked a dozen questions. She knew he'd been to town before, but imagined every visit was a little like a walk through Disney World for him.

“Just stick close, okay? I don't want to have to go hunting for you.”

“I wouldn't leave you.” He took her hand, tightening his grip a little when she started to shake him off. “You should hold on to me,” he said with absolute innocence in his eyes. “I could get lost.”

“That's bullshit.”

“Not in the least.” He linked fingers with hers and set out at a stroll. “Why with all these people, and the street, and the sounds and sights, I could lose my way any moment. At home, the village isn't nearly as big as this, and there aren't so many in it. On market day now, it can be crowded and colorful. But I know what I'm about there.”

“You know what you're about everywhere,” she said under her breath.

He had good ears, and his lips twitched at the comment. “On market day, people come into the village from all over the land. There's wonderful food—”

“Which would be your first priority.”

“A man has to eat. But there's cloths and crafts and music. Lovely stones from the mountains, and shells from the
sea. And you bargain, you see, that's the fun of it. When we're at home again, I'll buy you a gift on market day.”

He stopped to study the souvenirs and jewelry in a shop window. “I have nothing here to trade, and Hoyt tells me we can't use the coin I brought with me. You like baubles.” He flicked a finger at one of the drops in her ears. “So I'll buy you a bauble on market day.”

“I think we might be too busy to shop for baubles. Come on.” She gave his hand a tug. “We're here for supplies, not shiny things.”

“There's no need to hurry. We can have a bit of fun while we're about it. From what I see, you don't have enough fun.”

“If we're still alive in November, I'll do cartwheels in the street. I'll do naked cartwheels.”

He shot her that quick grin. “That's a new and important reason for me to fight. I haven't thought of the cartwheels, but I have thought about you naked a time or two. Oh, look there. Cakes!”

Sex and food, she thought. If he'd tossed in a beer and a sporting event, he'd be the ultimate guy. “No.” She rolled her eyes, halfheartedly dug in her heels as he pulled her across the street. “We're not here for cakes either. I've got a list. A really long list.”

“We can see to it soon enough. Ah, would you look at that one? See the long one, with the chocolate.”

“Eclair.”

“Eclair,” he repeated, making the word sound like a particularly pleasurable sex act. “You should have one of those, and so should I.” He turned those long, tawny eyes on her. “Be a darling, won't you, Blair? I'll pay you back.”

“You ought to be fat as a pig,” she muttered, but she went inside the bakery to buy two eclairs.

And came out with a dozen cupcakes as well.

She had no idea how he'd talked her into them, or the detour into half a dozen shops to browse. She was usually—hell, she was
always
—stronger than that.

Then she noticed the way the female clerks, other browsers, women on the street looked at him. Tough to be stronger than that, she decided.

He managed to nudge her into whittling away more than an hour doing nothing before she dragged him with her to finish the supply list.

“Okay, that's it. Foot firmly down. We haul this stuff straight back to the car and head for home. No more window shopping, no more flirting with shop girls.”

“Sure it was shameful the way you poured your charm over that dear woman.”

Blair gave him a bland look. “You're a real card.” She gestured with her chin. “That way. No detours.”

“You know, the way this village is built—I'm meaning the way the roads are, it's very like my own. And how the shops are huddled up together. And here, this is very like home, too.”

Before she could stop him, he'd opened the door of a pub. “Ah, there's a familiar smell. And there's music. So we'll stop for a moment.”

“Larkin, we need to get back.”

“So we will. But we should have a beer first. I like beer.”

Since her arms were loaded, she didn't put up much resistance when he nudged her inside. “It's nice,” he said, “after all the walking to sit and have a tankard. It's not a tankard,” he remembered.

“A pint. They usually say a pint here.” It was the walking, she decided that made her give in. The man was exhausting. And exhilarating.

She dumped purchases on and around one of the chairs at a low table, sat. “One beer.” She held up a finger. “And that's it. I don't want any more trouble from you.”

“Have I been trouble to you?” He took her hand, lifted it to kiss her fingers. “Sure I don't mean to be.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Wait a minute, wait a minute. Have you been playing me? Is this whole thing been your idea of a date?”

His brows drew together. “I don't know the date. I can't keep track of the days.”

“No, I meant…never mind. Pint of Guinness,” she told the waitress who came over. “Glass of Harp.”

“And how's it all going then?” he asked the waitress, and had her beaming him a smile.

“Very fine, and thank you. And for you?”

“A lovely day it's been. Do you live in the village?”

“In Ennis, I do, yes. Are you visiting?”

“We are. My lady is from Chicago.”

“Oh, I have cousins there. Well then, welcome to Ireland. I hope you're enjoying your stay. I'll get your beer right away.”

Idly, Blair tapped a finger on the table as she studied him. “You don't even have to turn it on, do you? It's just there, all the time.”

“I don't understand what you're meaning.”

“No, you probably don't. Do the girls back home lap up your cream that way? Blush and flutter?”

He put his hand over hers. “No need at all to be jealous, darling. I've no thought for any woman but you.”

“Save it.” She had to laugh. “I wouldn't fall for that one even if it wasn't possibly the end of the world.”

“There's no one here, or back home, who's caught my eye as you've caught it. I wonder if any will now that I've seen you. You're not like the women I know.”

“I'm not like women anyone knows.”

The easy smile faded. “You think that's a flaw in you, a fault, or…a barrier,” he decided. “Something that makes you less appealing than other women. That's false. When I say you're not like other women, I mean you're more interesting, more exciting. More alluring. Stop.”

The sudden and unexpected irritation in his voice put her back up. “Stop what?”

“You put that face on. The one that says
bullshit.
I like charming the ladies, for it doesn't do a bit of harm.” He waited, and this time Blair could see he had to put some
effort into smiling at the waitress when she served them. “Thanks for that.” Then he lifted the pint glass, took a long, slow sip.

“You're pissed,” she murmured, recognizing the glint in his eye. “What have you got to be pissed about?”

“I don't like the way you demean yourself.”

“Demean my—are you whacked?”

“Just be quiet. I said I like charming the ladies, and I do. I enjoy a flirt here and there, and a tumble when I can get one. But I don't hurt women, not with my hands, not with my words. I don't lie. So when I tell you how I see you, it's the simple truth of it. I think you're magnificent.”

He drank again, nodding when she only stared at him. “Well, that put the cork back in you right enough. Magnificent,” he repeated. “In face and form, in your heart and your mind. Magnificent because of what you do every day, and have done for years, since you were all but a babe. I've never known another like you, and never will. I'm telling you that if a man looks at you and doesn't see what a wonder you are, it's his vision that's at fault, and not a bit of you.”

T
hey fell back into routine, training, strategizing.
From the rumbles and flashes coming from the tower, Blair knew there was magic in the work as well.

But what they were doing, under it all, she thought, was waiting.

“We have to make a move.” She plowed rapid punches into the heavy bag they'd hung at one end of the once-grand ballroom. “We're caught in a loop, and it's time to do something. Shake things up.”

“I'm for that.” Larkin watched her, wondering how many levels of frustration she worked through by beating up a big hanging sack. “A daylight attack on the caves is what I was thinking.”

“Been there.” She pummelled—left, left, right. “Done that.”

“No, we went there, but we didn't do the attacking now, did we?”

Annoyed because he was right—worse because he wasn't mentioning the fact she'd been the one to be so
nearly used after the mission to Kerry—she shot him a glance. “We go in, we're dead. Or most of us.”

“That may be, but we're likely to die in any case before the end of this thing.”

Hard truth, she thought. She had to respect it. “Yeah, odds are.”

“So there could be a way to give them something to think about without actually going inside and hastening that eventuality. Though I'd like a chance at that—deviling them on their own ground for a change.” He picked up a stake, hurled it at the practice dummy.

She understood the sentiment, and felt the same. But knew better. “Whenever possible, you don't fight on their terms, or their turf. The caves are suicide.”

“Could be for them, if we lit them up.”

She pulled the next punch, turned to him. “Lit them up?”

“Fire. But it would have to be the two of us. The others, Moira in particular, would never agree to it.”

Intrigued, she began to unwrap her hands. “I meant to ask you before. The dragon suit. You breathe fire?”

He goggled at her. “Breathe fire?”

“Yeah. Dragons breathe fire, right?”

“No. Why would they want to do that? How could they?”

“That begs the question how can a man turn into one, but okay, another fantasy crushed. So how do you intend to fire up the caves?”

He lifted a sword. “It would only take one of us to get close enough, a few feet in. I'd enjoy that. But…” He set the sword down again. “A more practical manner would be flaming arrows.”

“Shooting flaming arrows into caves in broad daylight. Well, that shouldn't draw too much attention. I'm not shutting you down,” she added before he could speak. “An earthquake and a dragon flight barely made anyone blink. People have blinders. But there's another factor. There are still people in there.”

“I know it. Can we save them?”

“Highly unlikely.”

“If I were locked in a cage, waiting to be a meal for one of those things, or changed into one, I'd rather burn. You said the same before.”

“I don't think you're wrong, but we'd need a full-on attack to make a dent. And you're not wrong either when you say we'd never talk the others into it.” She walked over to study his face. “And you're saying it, but you couldn't do it. Not when it came down to it.”

He strode over to yank the stake from the dummy. He
wanted
to be able to do it, in his head. But in his heart…that was another thing altogether. “Could you?”

“Yeah, I could. Then I'd have to live with it, and I would. I've been fighting this war all my life, Larkin. You don't get through it without casualties. Innocent casualties—collateral damage. If I thought we could end it this way, or put a serious hurt on Lilith, I'd have already done it.”

“And you think I can't.”

“I know you can't.”

“Because I'm weak?”

“No. Because you're not hard.”

He pivoted, hurled the stake, hit the heart of the practice dummy. “And you are?”

“I have to be. You haven't seen what I've seen, and for all you know, you still don't know what I know. I have to be hard. What I am makes me hard.”

“What you are, a warrior, a hunter, is a gift and a duty. To harden around it, that's a choice. I can do what needs to be done, and if this was the way, this sacrifice of men, I would live with it. It would hurt me, and it would weigh on me, but I would do what needed to be done.”

Enough weight, she thought as he left her, you get hard, or you break under it.

And this is why she worked alone, she reminded herself. Why she was alone. So she didn't have to explain herself, or justify herself. Why she'd accepted, after Jeremy, that
the only way to do what she'd been born to do, was to stay alone.

She heard a muffled boom from overhead in the tower, glanced up. Sure some people found it—that intimacy, that unity—and made it work. But they had to understand each other first, and accept all the dark places. To not just tolerate them, but embrace them.

And that, when it came to her and her life, just wasn't in the cards. She rewrapped her hands, and went back to pummelling the heavy bag.

“Someone you know?” Cian asked from the doorway.

She barely spared him a glance. She was using her feet now as well as her hands. Side kicks, back kicks, double jumps. She'd worked up enough of a sweat that her breath was short and choppy. “Tenth-grade algebra teacher.”

“I'm sure she deserves a good hiding. Ever found a use for that? The algebra business.”

“Not a one.”

He watched her get a running start, and hit the bag with a flying kick that nearly snapped it off its chain. “Nice form. Oddly, I see Larkin's face on that bag.” He smiled a little when she stopped to catch her breath and gulp down water. “I just passed him going down. He looked annoyed—a rarity for him, as he's an affable sort, isn't he?”

“I bring annoyance out in people.”

“True enough. He's a likable boy.”

“I like him okay.”

“Hmm.” Cian crossed over to pick up several knives, then began to throw them at the target across the room. “When you've been around humans as long as I have you recognize traits and signals. And, if you're me, you have a curiosity about their choices. So I wonder why the two of you don't just have at each other. Dangerous times, possible end of days, and so on.”

Her back went up, she could literally feel the shift in her
spine. “I don't just roll with any guy who's handy—if it's any of your business.”

“Your choice, of course.” He walked over, tugged out the knives. When he came back, he handed them to her in an easy, almost companionable gesture. “But I think it's a bit more than him being in the vicinity and available.”

She gave the knife a testing toss in the air, then hurled it at the target. Hit dead center. “Why this sudden interest in my sex life?”

“Just a study of human reactions. My brother walked out of his world and into this one. The goddess pointed the direction, and he followed.”

“He didn't just follow the goddess.”

“No,” Cian said after a moment. “He came to find me. We're twins, after all, and the attachment runs deep. Added to it, he's by nature dutiful and loyal.”

This time she walked over to retrieve the knives. “He's also powerful and courageous.”

“He is, yes.” Cian took them, threw them. “The odds are I'll watch him die. That's not something I'd choose. Even if he survives this, he'll grow old, his body will shut down, and he'll die.”

“Cheery, aren't you? It could be peacefully in his sleep, after a long full life. Maybe after a last bout of really great sex.”

Cian smiled a little, but it didn't reach those cool blue eyes. “Whether it's by violence or nature, the result is the same. I've seen more death than you, more than you ever will. But still, you've seen more than most humans have or will. And that separates us, you and me, from the rest.”

“We don't have any choice about that.”

“Of course we do. I know a bit about loneliness, and what can chase it back, even for the short run.”

“So I should jump Larkin because I'm lonely?”

“That would be one answer.” Cian retrieved the knives again, and this time replaced them. “The other might be to
take a closer look at him, and at what he sees when he looks at you. Meanwhile, the tension and repression gives you a nice edge. Want to go a round or two?”

“Wouldn't say no.”

 

S
he felt better. Bruised but better. Nothing like a
good grapple with a vampire—even one who didn't want to kill you—to clear the head. She'd just go down and grab something to eat before the evening training session.

But first she was going to stop by her room and rub some of Glenna's magic cream into the bruises.

She walked into her room, and onto the rise above the Valley of Silence.

“Oh crap. Crap, crap. I don't need to see this again.”

“You do.” Morrigan stood beside her, pale blue robes fluttering in the wind. “You need to know it, every rock, every drop, every blade of grass. This is your battleground. This will be the stand of humankind. Not the caves in Kerry.”

“So we just wait?”

“There will be more than waiting. You are hunter and hunted now. What you do, what you choose to do, brings you closer to this.”

“One battle.” Suddenly weary, Blair raked a hand through her hair. “Everything else is just another skirmish leading here. It's all about this. Will it end it?”

Morrigan turned those emerald eyes to Blair's. “It never ends. You know this, in every part of you, you know this single truth. But if she defeats you on this ground, worlds will be tossed into chaos. There will be suffering, death and torment for a time beyond imagining.”

“Got that. What's the good news?”

“Everything you need to take this ground is within you. Your circle has the power to win this war.”

“But not end it.” Blair looked over the ground again, the misery of it. “It's never going to end for me.”

“The choice is yours, child, has always been yours.”

“I wish I could walk away. Some days I wish that, and others…Others I think wow, look what I'm doing, what I can do. And it makes me feel, well, righteous, I guess. Right, anyway. But some days when I go home after a hunt and there's no one there, it all seems too hard, and too empty.”

“You should have been cared for, and were not,” Morrigan said, gently now. “And still, all that came before, all that comes now has made you. You have more than one battle to win, more than one quest. And always, child, more than one choice.”

“Turning away isn't a choice for me. So we'll come here, and we'll win. Because that's what we have to do. I'm not afraid to die. Can't say I look forward to it, but I'm not afraid.”

She looked back at the ground, the way the mists filled the pockets in the earth, the way the rocks speared up through it. Now, as always, the look of it shuddered through her. Now, as always, she saw herself lying bloody there. Ended.

She nearly asked if what she saw was truth or imagination, but knew the god wouldn't answer.

“So if I go,” Blair decided, “I'm taking a hell of a lot of them with me.”

“In one week, you, the circle of six, will go to the Dance of the Gods, and from there to Geall.”

Blair turned away from the drop now to look into Morrigan's face. “One week.”

“One week from this day. You've done what needed to be done here. You've gathered together, and now, together, you'll make this journey to Geall.”

“How?”

“You'll know. In one week. You must trust those with you, and what you hold inside you. If the circle doesn't reach Geall, and come to this place at the appointed time, this world, yours, and all the others are plunged into the dark.”

The sun went out. In the black, Blair heard the screams, the howls, the weeping. The air suddenly stank with blood.

“You're not alone,” Morrigan told her. “Not even here.”

She snapped back, and stared into Larkin's eyes. She felt his fingers digging into her shoulders.

“There you are, there you are now.” She was too stunned to evade when he pulled her into his arms, wrapped them around her like bands as he pressed his lips to her hair. “There you are,” he repeated. “Was it the vampire?”

“No. Wow. You need to turn me loose.”

“In a minute or two. You're shaking.”

“I don't think so. I think that's you.”

“It may be. I know you scared six lives out of me.” He drew her back, barely an inch. “You were just standing there, just standing, staring. You didn't hear me when I spoke to you. Didn't see me when I was right in front of you. And your eyes…” He pressed his lips to her forehead now, firmly, the way she imagined parents checked a child for fever. “So dark, so deep.”

“It was Morrigan. She took me on a little excursion. I'm okay.”

“Do you want to lie down, to rest? Steady yourself a bit. I'll stay with you.”

“No, I said I'm fine. I thought you were mad at me.”

“I was—am a bit. You're a frustrating creature, Blair, and I've never had to put so much work into wooing a woman.”

“Woo?” Something snapped shut in her throat. “I don't like the whole woo thing.”

“That's clear enough, but I do. And a man has to please himself as well as the woman who's caught his eye, doesn't he? But in any case, whether or not I'm annoyed and frustrated, I wouldn't leave you alone.”

They always do, a little voice whispered in her head. Sooner or later. “I'm okay. Just a little wigged out at getting a message from the land of the gods.”

“What is the message?”

“Better get everyone together and deliver it all at once. In the library,” she decided. “It's the best setup.”