Rhys grunted something uncomplimentary in Welsh. “All right, I’ll come with you.”
Rosalind managed a smile. “Thank you, my friend.”
“Just don’t expect me to explain why I let you hunt Vampires to his lordship when he returns.”
His quiet confidence helped to settle her nerves more than he would ever know. “But, luckily, you are no longer responsible for my behavior, Rhys. My husband is.”
“Exactly, and if he were here now, he’d probably put you over his knee.”
“But he is not, so for once I shall do as I please.” She reached for his hand. “Let’s hunt. One last time.”
Rhys nodded, his gaze full of understanding that made tears prick at the back of her eyes. “I’ve already said I’d come with you. I’ll meet you back here at midnight.”
Marcus unlocked the door and entered the small room where Christopher was reluctantly residing. He looked remarkably pleased with himself.
“Ellis, we need to compare weapons and make sure we are evenly matched.”
Christopher laid his sword and dagger on the table. “Shouldn’t someone impartial do that?”
Marcus shrugged. “They are all busy and they trust me.”
“Which is rather foolish of them.” Christopher contemplated the other man. “Did you plan this together, you and my uncle?”
“Plan what, Ellis?”
“This plot to annihilate me at all costs?”
“I have always believed in making certain my enemies perish.”
“And I am your enemy?”
“You betrayed your brethren with that Vampire slayer.”
Christopher shook his head. “Then your clumsy attempts to persuade me to betray my uncle were simply to lure me to my death?”
Marcus looked unrepentant. “In truth, I care not how I achieve my aim of ruling the cult and bringing it back to its true purpose: killing Druids, not kissing the Vampire Council’s feet. You, my friend, are expendable.”
“Did you know my uncle would choose me to fight for him?”
“I didn’t, but I hoped he would. I believe at this point he is probably keener to see me die than you.”
“And even if I kill you in combat, he can still dispose of me at my trial. How convenient.”
Marcus smiled. “It seems you cannot win, Ellis, so let’s make a bargain. Let me defeat you, and I promise I’ll kill your uncle as soon as I am leader of the cult.”
Christopher sat down on the only bench and gazed up at Marcus. “And if I’m dead, how am I supposed to know if you keep your word? Do you think I am a fool?”
Something shifted in Marcus’s gaze and Christopher straightened. “It was you who killed Brother Samuel, wasn’t it? To stop him from giving me the information that might’ve helped get me out of this trial.”
“I killed him, yes, but I didn’t get the information. Something, or someone, had already ripped out the page.”
“So you murdered Brother Samuel, an old, frail, innocent monk, to make sure he couldn’t tell me what it said.”
“I told you, I am a careful man.”
The door opened and Edward appeared. Marcus ignored the older man and walked past him. “Think on my offer, and let me know what you wish to do.”
Edward frowned. “What did he want?”
“To compare weapons.” Christopher picked up his dagger and examined it closely. “So I am to be your champion, Uncle.”
“It seemed fitting, nephew. It gives you a chance to leave this world defending your true beliefs.”
“You mean defending
your
beliefs. Lies I no longer accept.”
Edward sat down and faced Christopher. “I cannot allow Marcus Flavian to take over now. I have come too close to achieving my desires.”
“Again, it is all about what you want, isn’t it? Not what is meet for the cult. Why do you think so many of the brethren voted against you? They do not want this alliance with the Vampires any more than I do. Can’t you see that?”
“You do not understand. If we ally with the Vampires, we will be safe.”
Christopher laughed. “You mean when the Vampire Council and Lady Anne Boleyn take over the whole kingdom? That will never happen. Lady Anne cares only about herself. She has no intention of sharing power with the Council, let alone with you.”
“You lie.”
“Why would I lie, especially now, when my life can be measured in scant moments rather than in years? Anne told me so herself. She has already made a bargain with the Druids. Our enemy has become her ally. I’ll swear on it.”
Edward visibly paled. “She has not! She promised me that if I brought the Mithras Cult to her aid, she would give me immortal life.”
Ah, so
that
was it. Anne had offered a dying man a new version of salvation. One that meant he sacrificed his immortal soul, but gained power and an endless lifetime to use it.
“She will not be helping you now. She has become so arrogant that she believes she can rule the king and the country alone.” Christopher walked up to his uncle. “So it seems your plans are doomed to failure.”
“Not if you defeat Marcus Flavian.”
“Why should I want to do that?”
“So that I can retain my power over the cult!”
“And what good does that do me? You’re still going to ensure my death by trial.” Christopher strode across to the door and banged on it. “No, I think I’ll go with Marcus Flavian’s suggestion, and let him kill me, so that he can depose you and have you quietly murdered afterward.”
Edward gaped at him as if he couldn’t catch his breath. The door swung open, and Christopher helped Edward up and guided him firmly through it. “Now, if you would leave me alone to say my last prayers, I would be most grateful.”
He slammed the door himself, and walked back into the center of the room. He went down on his knees and stared at the stone cross carved into a niche on the wall opposite him. What a way to end his life, caught between the ambitious jaws of other men. He wanted to laugh and smash his fists against the stone just to feel something except this spreading numbness and sense of unreality.
Something shimmered and danced before his eyes and he struggled to his feet. Elias appeared in front of him, followed by the female Vampire Olivia, who held her finger to her lips. She went to the door and waved her hand over it before returning to Elias’s side.
“No one will get in for a little while, Master Warner.”
“Thank you, my lady.” Elias smiled at Christopher. “My lord, are you well? You look a little shaken.”
“As would you if you’d been put in an impossible situation.”
“How so?” Elias asked as calmly as if Christopher were pondering which doublet to wear.
“My uncle has been challenged as cult leader by Sir Marcus Flavian, and has chosen me to be his champion in the fight to the death.”
Elias frowned. “But aren’t you supposed to be facing a trial?”
“
That
will only happen if I defeat Marcus.” Christopher let out a laugh. “Then my uncle can try me for my crimes and get a second chance to kill me.”
“I did not know Marcus Flavian intended to overthrow your uncle.”
“Marcus doesn’t like my uncle’s servility to the Vampire Council. He feels the cult has strayed from its old Druid-killing ways.”
Olivia had taken the seat beside Christopher and now she poked him. “Marcus Flavian is a bad man.”
“I know that, but so is my uncle, and both of them are determined to kill me.”
Elias held up his hand. “This makes things a little more complicated, but the good news is Lady Olivia found some information that will preclude your trial. That is why we are here.”
Christopher looked at Olivia in astonishment. “Was it you who stopped Marcus from stealing the parchment from Brother Samuel?”
Olivia bit her lip. “I managed only to get the document. I got there an instant too late to stop him from killing the old man. I am sorry about that.”
Briefly Christopher met her familiar blue gaze. It was like looking in the mirror. “You did your best. I appreciate it, but how can this information help me?”
Olivia handed him a rolled-up piece of parchment. “It clearly states that no man of impure blood can
ever
be enrolled in the Mithras Cult.” She glanced at Elias. “I know nothing about this Cult. I took the parchment because I knew the murderer wanted it. I didn’t realize the information was important until Master Warner explained it to me.”
“It means that because I have Vampire blood, I should never have been allowed into the cult in the first place. My uncle surely knew that, and yet he allowed me to join to bend me to his will.”
“So if you show this parchment to the jury, they cannot convict you. They have no jurisdiction over you, as you are not purebred.”
Christopher stowed the parchment inside his doublet and heaved a sigh before looking up at his two rescuers. “Thank you. An hour ago I would’ve assumed this would clear my name, and I would be free. But now . . .”
“You have to fight Marcus and beat him, and then face down your uncle,” Elias said firmly.
“Is that all?” Christopher said and rose to his feet. “Then I suppose I’d better get on with it.”
“I will find a way to help you,” Olivia said.
Christopher turned to her and kissed her gently on the forehead. “Do not put yourself in any danger for me. I know neither of you can be comfortable in a church. I want you to survive this. Do you understand?”
“I’m a Vampire, brother. Of course I will survive.”
Christopher shook Elias’s hand. “I owe you so much.”
Elias met his gaze head-on. “I have come to value your . . . humanity, my lord, and your friendship.” Elias sounded faintly puzzled by his own admission, and Christopher fought an unexpected smile. “I do not wish to see you die quite yet.”
“Then I will do my best not to.”
Christopher drew in a big gulp of air. He felt as if nothing else could hurt him. His destiny was in the hands of God and his Vampire allies. All he could do was fight to stay alive, and suddenly he wanted to live. His child needed him. The force of it, the pure joy of it slammed through him, making him aware that while there was still a sliver of a chance to keep him alive, he would never ever give up.
Chapter 24
C
hristopher buckled on his sword and slid his dagger into its sheath. Elias and Olivia had disappeared, leaving him alone to contemplate his opponent. Marcus was a ferocious fighter, but at least Christopher knew him well. Like any man, Marcus had his weaknesses, and Christopher intended to exploit them all. Of course, Marcus knew his weaknesses too, but then he had a Vampire on his side.
Marcus barged back into the room, his head high, confidence brimming from every rippling muscle. “Are you ready, Ellis?”
“I’m ready,” Christopher replied.
Marcus gave him a sidelong glance. “And are you prepared to die easily? If you agree, I’ll make it as painless as possible.”
Christopher inclined his head an inch. “That is very generous of you, but I do not care to die on the off chance that you might keep your promise and kill my uncle. You haven’t proved very trustworthy, have you?”
A dull red flush crept up Marcus’s thick neck and his face darkened. “You are a fool, Ellis. I’ll enjoy dismembering you even more now. I’ll show no mercy, even if you beg.”
Christopher ignored him and marched forward into the circular space that would serve as their battlefield. His feet sank into sawdust and sand. Someone had obviously decided that covering up the flagstones would make cleaning up the blood much easier. He wondered if it was his uncle. He was such a conscientious man.
Marcus drew up beside him, his sword already out of its scabbard. Edward, now robed in his full regalia, the bull’s-head mask pulled down low over his forehead, stood and held up his hands.
“Oh, Great God Mithras. Send your favor onto one of these men. Prove the righteousness of my cause!”
There was some muttering at such a one-sided prayer, but it soon subsided. Marcus stepped back a sword’s length and bowed to Christopher. “May the best man win.”
Christopher bowed as well. “I will, because unlike you and my uncle, I have right on my side, not the lust for personal power.”
Marcus grunted and lunged at Christopher, his right arm swinging wide like a man scything a field of corn. Christopher easily avoided the heavy-handed blow, and struck back, his sword glancing off the leather of Marcus’s jerkin. Marcus parried again, and this time Christopher caught the edge of the blow on the side of his sword. He felt the dull ache of it reverberate up his arm.
He stepped back and studied his opponent’s wild blond hair and narrowed eyes. Marcus looked like the Viking berserkers he was descended from. But men in the grip of bloodlust could make mistakes and commit acts of pure folly. That was why they rarely survived for long. And Marcus had no idea how much sword practice Christopher had put in killing Vampires over the past year.
Christopher settled back to play the dangerous game of taunting a berserker, to force him into an error, to make his temper boil over and forget reason.
For a little while, there was nothing in Christopher’s world but the grunts of effort Marcus made and his answering parries, the slide of their feet in the sand and the collective reaction of their audience. Blood trickled down Christopher’s left arm from one of Marcus’s lucky thrusts, but he didn’t have time to staunch the flow.
Marcus advanced again and Christopher braced himself for another brutal attack. His breath hissed out, and Marcus caught him off-balance, his sword raised at an awkward angle, his feet struggling to maintain his stance. The shock of the blow made him bite his tongue, but he still pushed back, the tip of his blade nicking the underside of Marcus’s arm and drawing a sudden flash of red.
“Christopher, call his blood to you.”
For a second, Christopher almost faltered, until he realized it was Olivia speaking to him in his head. He backed off and circled his opponent again, using the small reprieve to formulate his reply.
“I don’t know how to do that.”
“I know. If you want to win, let me do it through you. This man does not deserve to live.”
Christopher ducked to avoid a blow that would’ve separated his head from his body and managed to shove Marcus back again. He was aware that his strength was waning, while Marcus seemed unstoppable.