The Gauntlet Read Free Page A

manifest. The eldest
should have saved her sacrifice, she thought grimly. They weren’t
going to get out of this.
    “Could I be of assistance, at all?”
    Her head whipped up to see the vampire’s
curly mop poking through the charred edges of the hole. She threw
up a shield, silently cursing him for forcing her to use the power,
and jumped to the floor. Shards of wood and a few old iron nails
dug into her bare feet, but the pain was almost welcome. It helped
to push away the gut-wrenching panic and let her think.
    A guard was sprawled on the floor nearby,
half hidden by the fall of wood and debris. He wasn’t moving, and
one hand was a bloody mess—he must have used it to try to shield
himself. The other gripped a long piece of wood that was partially
concealed by his body. She crouched beside him and started tugging
on it, while keeping a wary eye on the creature above.
    “My earlier jest may have been…ill-timed,”
the vampire offered. “I do not, in fact, intend to dine upon you.
Or your lovely…daughter, is it?”
    Gillian’s head jerked up. “Touch her and they
will never find all the pieces,” she snarled, pulling Elinor behind
her.
    But the creature made no move toward them,
other than to spread his hands, showing that he held no weapons. As
if he needed any. “I assure you, I pose no threat.”
    “A harmless vampire.” She didn’t bother to
keep the mockery out of her voice.
    “To you.” A smile came easily to that
handsome face. “In fact, I work with a party in government charged
with maintaining the security of these lands.”
    “You lie. Vampires work for their
makers.”
    “Yes, but in this case, my mistresses’
interests align.”
    “And what would those interests be?” Gillian
asked, not because she cared, but to buy her time to find out if
the item in the guard’s hand was what she thought it was.
    “The queen’s enemies are not composed of
humans alone,” he told her, as easily as if he carried on
conversations upside down every day. Which maybe he did, she
thought darkly, images of bats and other unsavory creatures coming
to mind. “Ever since England became a refuge for the Silver Circle,
she has been a target for the dark. And the assassination attempts
grow with each passing day.”
    “And why should a vampire care about such
things?”
    “We must live in this world, too,
Mistress--”
    “Urswick,” she panted. Curse it—the guard
weighed a ton!
    “I am pleased to make your acquaintance,
Mistress Urswick,” he said wryly. “I am Chris Marlowe, although my
friends call me Kit.”
    “You have friends?”
    “Strangely enough, yes. I would like to
number you among them, if I could.”
    Gillian was sure he would. But while she
might be a penniless thief, her coven ruined, her friends scattered
or dead, neither she nor her daughter would be feeding him this
day. “Don’t count on it,” she snarled, and jerked the slender
column of wood free.
    It was a staff as she’d hoped, but not of the
Circle’s make. The surface was satiny to the touch, worn smooth as
stone from centuries of handling. The oil from all those hands had
cured it to a dark mahogany, blending the black glyphs carved along
its length into the surface. She traced one of the ridges with a
fingertip and didn’t believe it, even when a frisson of power
passed through her shields to jump along her nerves.
    Her fingers began to prickle, black fury
rising in front of her eyes, as she stood there with a Druid staff
in her hands. It wasn’t enough that they were persecuted,
imprisoned, and murdered. The Circle had to steal what little of
their heritage they had been able to preserve, as well.
    “At the risk of sounding discourteous, may I
point out that you are in no position to be choosy?” the vampire
said, right before the door to the room slammed open and half a
dozen guards rushed in. And then blew back out as the staff turned
the door and half the wall into rubble.
    “Perhaps I spoke too soon,” he