Chapter Eighteen
Saintcrow sat on one of the wrought-iron benches in the park, his thoughts turned toward Elowynne.
Where was she? What mischief was she conjuring?
Was it her intention to destroy him? Drive him mad?
Or just torture him at her whim for the rest of his existence?
Could he have avoided all this by simply taking her to bed all those centuries ago?
If he had sex with her now – assuming Kadie was right and the witch still wanted him – would she call off her vendetta?
He muttered an oath. Elowynne wasn’t the first vampire he had rejected. That honor went to Eleni. Dammit! What cruel twist of fate had entangled his life with not one but two vindictive vampires? Just his luck that they were half-sisters. What were the odds?
He ran his fingers over the copper cuff on his wrist. So far, it had kept his temper in check.
As if Elowynne knew his thoughts, a sudden explosion of pain splintered through him. With a harsh cry, he fell to his knees as agony rolled over him in whitei-hot waves.
Moments later, Kincaid and Kadie were beside him.
When Kadie reached for him, he rasped, “Don’t touch me!”
The sound of Elowynne’s amused laughter rang out in his mind as the pain increased.
A moment later, the pain was gone. He lay there, bathed in sweat and humiliation.
Damnation! He was one of the most powerful creatures on earth, yet that vindictive witch had him cowering on the ground like a whipped puppy.
“Rylan?”
He groaned softly. “Go home, Kadie.”
“But...”
“Dammit, go home!”
Kadie glanced at Jake, who nodded. Blinking back her tears, she transported herself back to their lair.
Saintcrow glared at Kincaid. “You can go, too.”
“You’re not the boss of me,” Jake retorted. “Hell, I’ve seen you in pain before.”
Sitting up, Saintcrow muttered, “Don’t remind me. Dammit, she was laughing at me.”
“I didn’t hear anything.”
“I heard her in my mind. She was gloating, damn her hide.”
“Well, she does seem to have the upper hand at the moment,” Jake remarked.
“Yeah. How are we going to change that?”
Offering Saintcrow a hand up, Jake said, “I wish I knew. We need a miracle.”
Ignoring Kincaid’s hand, Saintcrow gained his feet, his brow furrowing. “A miracle,” he murmured. “That’s just what we need. You got any idea where to find one?”
Jake shrugged. “At church?”
Saintcrow scowled at him. “I’m serious, dammit!”
“So am I.”
~ * ~
“I’m going away for a few days.”
“What?” Startled, Kadie looked up from the fashion magazine she’d been thumbing through while she waited for Rylan to come home.
“You heard me.”
“Why? Where are you going?”
“I’m going to Romania.”
Kadie frowned. “We were just there not very long ago. Why do you want to go again?”
“I’m not sure.”
“You’re not going back to that river of blood, are you?”
“No. There’s an ancient church in Hunedoara County. It’s the oldest church in Romania.”
Kadie stared at him. “A church?”
He nodded. “Believe it or not, I used to go to church from time to time before Eleni turned me.”
Kadie’s brows shot up.
“Yeah, I know,” he said with a wry grin. “It’s hard to imagine.”
“Almost impossible.” Every time she was sure she knew everything there was to know about him, he surprised her with something new, Kadie thought, completely flabbergasted. “But why do you want to go now? And why that church?”
“I’m not sure.”
She didn’t say anything, just looked at him, a question in her eyes.
Knowing that she’d be hurt, he said, “I’d rather go alone.”
“It’s because of whatever it is that Elowynne is doing to you, isn’t it?”
He nodded.
Kadie frowned. Was he looking for salvation? Absolution? Forgiveness?
“I don’t know what I’m looking for,” he said, drawing her into his arms. “Years ago, I spent a night there.” His hand stroked her hair absently.
“I remember feeling a deep sense of peace. An odd thing to feel in a church built to worship the God of war,” he said, with a chuckle.
And then he sobered. “Maybe I can find that peace again.”
“Is Jake going with you?” she asked, unable to hide the note of jealousy in her voice.
“No. I’ll only be gone for a day or two.”
“You know I’ll worry the whole time you’re gone.”
“I know.” He held her closer, inhaling the warm, sweet, womanly scent of her. “It’s why I love you so much. No one else has ever worried about me.”
“When are you leaving?”
Hearing the tears in her voice, he held her tighter. “If I go at sunset, it will get me there somewhere around three in the morning, long before any tourists arrive.”
The dam broke then. With a sob, she buried her face in his shoulder.
Saintcrow swore softly, hating her tears. Hating himself for causing them. “If I get into trouble, I’ll contact you. If I can’t, you’ll know it.” He put his finger beneath her chin, tilting her head up. “If that happens, come running, okay? And bring Kincaid with you.”
Unable to shake off the feeling that something terrible was about to happen, Kadie pulled him down on the floor and wrapped him in her arms.
Aware of her fears, he made love to her tenderly, whispering that he loved her, would always love her, promising that nothing bad was going to happen. And because she loved him, she let herself believe him.
~ * ~
It took only a few moments to transport from home to the church.
Built from stone in the Byzantine style, it was rumored to have once been a pagan Roman temple.
Two lion statues adorned the roof. The interior walls were made of brick.
At this time of the morning, it was dark inside, but he didn’t need light to see the ancient paintings and statues.
Making his way to the circular altar, Saintcrow stood there for a long time, letting the silence close in around him.
Why had he really come here? What had he hoped to find?
He had long ago given up hope of heaven.
He’d once heard a preacher say no one was beyond forgiveness.
He hadn’t believed it then. He didn’t believe it now.
So why in hell was he here?
Gradually, the peace he had found centuries before enveloped him. He had lived his life the best way he knew how, he mused, considering the hand he’d been dealt. He snorted softly. Maybe whoever judged him would take that into consideration.
He lost track of time as he stood there lost in the past, thinking he wouldn’t change anything if it meant never meeting Kadie.
Saintcrow was about to turn away from the altar when he realized he was no longer alone.
Turning, he came face to face with a man and a woman.
He knew immediately that they were vampires.
The male was old, but the female was older than any vampire he had ever encountered.
His eyes narrowed as he wondered why he had never run into either one before.
The female smiled a knowing smile as Saintcrow’s gaze ran over her in open admiration.
Clad in tight-fitting jeans and a white sweater that outlined her ample curves, she was incredibly beautiful.
Her hair, long and inky black, fell past her hips.
Her skin was smooth and pale, her eyes a deep emerald green.
“I am Mara,” she said. “Perhaps Oriana mentioned me.”
Saintcrow shook his head. “Not by name. She said she thought you were a myth.”
“Hardly.” She inclined her head toward the male. “This is Father Lanzoni.”
Saintcrow’s brows rose in surprise. “Father?”
Lanzoni smiled. “I no longer have a parish.”
Saintcrow grunted softly. Damn, what were the odds of meeting her here? “You’re the one they called the Queen of the Vampires, aren’t you?”
She nodded. “And you are Saintcrow, are you not?” she asked.
He nodded. “How did you know I was here?” Their presence couldn’t be a coincidence.
She smiled faintly as she settled on a pew, then gestured for him to join her. The priest took a place on her other side.
“We have a mutual acquaintance,” Mara remarked. “She gave me a bit of your blood and I followed you.”
Saintcrow frowned. He only knew of two people who could have given her his blood. Which witch had it been?
“This acquaintance mentioned your problem to me. It sounds fascinating.”
“Fascinating,” Saintcrow muttered. “Right.”
“Father Lanzoni may be able to help you, if you’re interested.”
Saintcrow glanced at the priest. Lanzoni looked to be in his late thirties, with hazel eyes, olive skin, and shoulder-length black hair touched with silver at the temples. Quiet power radiated from him. “I’m interested.”
Lanzoni cleared his throat. “I’m told that you’ve been cursed or touched by a combination of dark magic mingled with vampire blood. I believe I can break the curse.”
“Yeah? How?”
“By performing an exorcism, of course.”
Saintcrow muttered an oath, then said, “Sorry, Father.”
The priest smiled faintly. “No apology needed.”
“So what do we do and when do we do it?”
“Here and now, if it suits you,” Lanzoni said.
Saintcrow glanced from the priest to Mara and back again. “How do you know it’ll work?”
“All it takes is a little faith,” Lanzoni assured him.
“Faith.” Saintcrow snorted softly. “On whose part?”
“Mine. And yours, of course.”
“Not afraid, are you?” Mara challenged.
“I don’t know. What are the after-effects?”
“None, if I do it right,” Lanzoni replied with a mischievous grin.
“Have you done something like this before?”
“Not on an ancient vampire.”
“It will leave you weak,” Mara said. “That’s why I am here.”
Gaining his feet, Saintcrow paced the floor in front of the altar. He was intrigued by the idea of an exorcism, and equally hesitant. Lanzoni had never performed one on an ancient vampire. Who knew what the consequences might be?
“Well?” Mara asked, a note of impatience in her voice. “Have we come all this way for nothing?”
“The witch will never have any kind of magical or vampiric power over you again,” Lanzoni remarked. “If that helps you make up your mind.”
That was all Saintcrow needed to know. “Let’s do it.”
At the priest’s direction, Saintcrow stretched out on the altar. He shivered as an odd tremor ran through him. A thick silence fell over the church as Lanzoni took his place on one side of him, and Mara on the other.
Reaching into the pocket of his trousers, Lanzoni withdrew a long black cloth. It had a white cross embroidered on each end. Holding it in his hands, he murmured a few words before draping it around his neck.
Outside, there was a low rumble of thunder.
“Rylan Saintcrow, do you have faith in what I am about to do?” the priest asked.
Mouth suddenly dry, Saintcrow said, “I do. I just hope it’s enough.”
Outside, the wind picked up. There was a sudden flash of lightning, bright enough to pierce the interior gloom, followed by another, louder, growl of thunder.
Saintcrow looked up at the priest. “What the hell?”
“Not to worry.” Lanzoni smiled faintly as he placed his right hand on Saintcrow’s head and his left over Saintcrow’s heart. Closing his eyes, the priest began to chant in a language Saintcrow didn’t recognize. It sounded faintly like ancient Latin.
Saintcrow flinched as what felt like living fingers of flame spiraled through him from head to foot. It wasn’t like any other pain he had ever suffered, and it hurt like the devil.
Outside, lightning scorched the skies while drumrolls of thunder and a ferocious wind battered the ancient church, causing it to shudder.
A cold shiver speared through Saintcrow’s chest as Lanzoni’s last few words echoed from wall to wall. There was another sharp crack of thunder and then the world went suddenly, silently still.
Feeling as weak as a fledgling, Saintcrow tried to sit up, only to fall back, panting softly. He stared up at the priest. What the hell had Lanzoni done to him? Had it been a mistake to trust him? Hell, for all he knew, Mara and the priest were imposters sent by Elowynne.
Mara laid a slender hand on Saintcrow’s shoulder. “It’s all right,” she said. “Remember, I said you would be weak afterwards.” She bit into her left wrist and held it to his lips. “Take as much as you need.”
Saintcrow stared at the blood oozing from the twin punctures in Mara’s wrist. It was even darker than his own.
Closing his eyes, he took hold of her arm and drank.
Oriana’s ancient blood had been powerful, but it was nothing compared to Mara’s.
At the first taste, he could feel her preternatural power flowing through him like a warm, cleansing river.
And he knew, somehow, that whatever magical incantations Elowynne had used against him were gone, washed away by Mara’s ancient blood and the miracle performed by the priest. Filled with her ancient power, he had no trouble sitting up this time.
He smiled at Mara. Never had he felt so strong.
So invincible. “My thanks. What can I offer you in return?”
She shook her head. “I have everything I want. Everything I need.”
Saintcrow glanced at the priest. “And you?”
“Being able to use my gift is thanks enough.”
“If you ever need anything...”
“You have my blood in your veins,” Mara said. “I will always know where you are, should I need you.”
“Yeah,” he said. And wondered if that was such a good idea.
Bending down, Mara kissed him on the cheek. “Good luck dealing with the rest of your problem,” she said, with a grin. “Come, Father, Logan is home waiting for me.”
The priest made the sign of the cross over Saintcrow’s head and then he and Mara vanished.
Saintcrow sat there for a long time. Where did he go from here? Elowynne’s magical power had been banished. His blood was no longer tainted.
The playing field was now even.