PROLOGUE
Charles Town, South Carolina
September 10, 1780
Candlelight from the massive chandelier overhead shimmered over satin, brocade, and the brilliant scarlet of British regimentals. Somebody played a violin with more vigor than skill, competing with the sound of dancing feet in the ballroom across the hall. Laughter rang out, a little too heartily from Loyalist planters, a little too smugly from the Redcoat conquerors who now occupied Charles Town.
Reece Champion sipped his wine and smiled down at the pretty Tory who was under the delusion he’d make a good husband. The square-cut décolletage of her brocade gown framed a pair of lovely breasts that would have claimed his full attention under different circumstances. As it was, though, Reece was far more interested in a conversation between two British lieutenants who stood nearby.
“By fall, Tarleton will have that Fox’s tail,” one of them said, his voice slurring slightly.
God, Reece loved a drunk. They made a spy’s job so much easier.
He’d come to Charles Town three months ago, not long after the port had fallen to a six-week British siege. Since then, Reece had managed to establish himself as a rabid Loyalist bitter about abuses he’d suffered at the hands of his Patriot neighbors. It was a believable cover: In the Southern colonies, the campaign for independence had taken on all the viciousness of a civil war.
His pose had been convincing enough to win Reece acceptance among a few Tory hostesses eager to curry favor with the invaders. Most of the city was less enthusiastic about the occupation, so the British welcomed the distraction of whatever dinners and balls the Loyalists cared to host.
Reece made himself equally popular, largely by way of deep pockets and a feigned willingness to let the Redcoats fleece him over cards. Even as he smiled and lost, he collected a steady stream of useful intelligence he could pass on to his Patriot contacts.
And he wasn’t the only one taking advantage of Redcoat gullibility. Reece had assembled a ring of Patriot agents who circulated among the British and Tory militia. Any information they collected, he sent to Patriot commanders like Francis Marion, whom the British had christened the Swamp Fox.
There was a certain irony to the whole thing, of course. Magekind vampires like Reece had served British interests for centuries, yet now they were helping England’s rebellious colonies break that country’s yoke.
It had not been a popular decision among the Magekind High Council, at least not at first. Luckily, enough of the Majae had experienced enough visions to convince them the fledgling United States needed her independence.
So now Reece spent his evenings playing a lethal game of lies and eavesdropping. These two drunken lieutenants were just the sort of source he loved to plunder. But did the British really have a plan to capture Francis Marion, or was the officer just bragging in his cups?
To cover his interest, Reece leaned down to whisper something flattering to the little Tory, who simpered in response. Her pulse fluttered temptingly in her long, slender throat, and he felt his fangs twinge. None of that, he told himself sternly. Keep your mind on the job. Still, he was unable to resist a quick sniff of her deliciously tempting skin. She wasn’t a Maja—or, for that matter, even a Latent—yet the rich femininity in her scent brought the Desire to quivering alert.
Until, as he breathed in, a sudden draft delivered a scent that definitely wasn’t female. He lifted his head sharply. Another vampire? Here?
Reece looked up to see Thomas Westlake working through the crowd toward him. Westlake’s gray wig was askew over wide, desperate eyes. And unless Reece was very much mistaken, there was blood on his friend’s collar.
“Pardon me, sweet,” Reece said to the Tory as he shot a regretful look at the two lieutenants. Judging from the expression on Westlake’s face, something had gone very wrong, something he didn’t dare ignore. He left the Tory pouting and started working his way through the crowd.
“What’s the—?” Reece began, but didn’t even get the question out of his mouth before Westlake’s hand clamped down on his forearm with strength enough to make him wince.
“I need help,” Tom hissed.
“Yes, I thought as much from the wild light in your eyes,” Reece said dryly, catching his friend’s shoulder and turning him smoothly toward the door. “Let’s step outside, shall we?” This was not a conversation for mortal ears. Intercepting an interested glance from a Loyalist, Reece added more loudly, “What were you thinking, coming to Mrs. Mason’s home in this condition? Shame, boy.”
“Shorry.” Westlake added an artistically drunken stagger to his step and allowed himself to be hustled outside.
“All right, Tom. What is it?” Reece demanded softly as soon as they were safely outside on the street. All around them the homes of wealthy merchants blazed with candlelight as people made the best of the British occupation. Wheels rumbled over the cobbles, and a dog barked frantically nearby, driven to a frenzy by the scent of vampire on the wind.
Westlake lost his drunken smile. “I’ve signed my own death warrant. And Lizzie’s, too.”
Reece stopped in his tracks, feeling the bottom drop out of his stomach. “God, Tom, tell me you didn’t.” When his friend looked away, miserable, he exploded. “Have you taken leave of your senses? What possessed you to do something so asinine?”
“Reece, I love her. It was the only way we could stay together. Besides, I thought…I thought we could use her. You know what a fine agent she is—”
“Keep your voice down!” Reece snarled as he grabbed Westlake’s shoulder to manhandle him further from a passing Hessian. Dropping his own voice to a whisper no human could overhear, he said, “You know the Council expressly forbade you from Changing her. You know that! Why did you disobey?”
“God, I don’t know! I just thought…after she came through the Change all right, I’d go before the Majae and argue how much we need her.” Westlake’s face twisted and his shoulders began to shake.
If anything, the chill in Reece’s gut deepened. “Oh, God. She didn’t make it.”
His eyes squeezed shut, Westlake shook his head, unable to speak.
Reece swore. “And you left her alone! For God’s sake, where is she?”
“At the house,” Westlake said. “My servants are watching her.”
“You’ll be lucky if she hasn’t killed them all!” Cursing all disobedient romantics straight to hell, he pushed his friend into the thick shadows of a nearby wall. “Come on,” Reece growled. “We’d better get to her before she turns the house into a crater.”
“Lizzie wouldn’t do that!” Westlake objected.
“Normally, no, but if she’s got Mageverse Fever, the situation is far from normal.” After a quick glance around to check for observers, Reece leaped, caught the top of the fifteen-foot wall, and boosted himself over into the garden beyond it. Westlake hit the ground beside him an instant later, and the two men took off for the next street at a hard run. Good thing there’s no moon, he thought as they shot around trees and over bushes at a speed no human could match. We can move a little faster.
Not that it mattered. Saving Lizzie had become impossible the moment Tom climaxed inside her for the third time.
Like Reece and Thomas, Lizzie was one of the descendants of the original Lords and Ladies of Camelot. As such, she carried Merlin’s Gift in her blood, just waiting for some Magus to trigger it with his passion, bringing her to her full power and immortality.
Thomas would have been safe if he’d taken her only once or pulled out before climaxing. Or simply refrained from taking her that third, lethal time. But he hadn’t. And he’d Changed her.
It wasn’t as if he hadn’t been warned. Back when Lizzie and Tom had first met, he’d asked permission of the Majae’s Council, the body of witches who decided who could safely receive the Gift. The Council had examined Lizzie—and determined that her mind could not withstand the strain of gaining the almost godlike power that is a Maja’s birthright.
But Thomas hadn’t believed them. Reece had begged him to stay away from her, had reminded him that both he and Lizzie faced the possibility of execution if they flouted the Council.
The stubborn bastard had done it anyway. And now…
They plunged together out of an alley across the street from Westlake’s townhouse just in time to see the top story light up as though from a lightning strike—from inside the house. The boom made the ground shake.
Reece’s heart sank. “Now that,” he said, “is just not a good sign at all.”
“No,” Tom agreed grimly, “it’s not.”
Westlake’s valet swung the door wide as they trotted up the walk. “Thank the good Lord you’re back, Mr. Thomas.” The tall, lean black man wore an expression of deep worry. “Miss Elizabeth has been raving since you left. The threats she’s made…” Benjamin shook his graying head.
“We’ll take care of it,” Westlake told him shortly.
If they could. Lizzie was fully capable of carrying out any horror she cared to commit.
“What’s gotten into her?” Benjamin asked with the boldness of a trusted servant as they strode past. “She’s always been a lady down to the toes of her slippers, but the language she’s used tonight would make a drunken wagoneer blush. You’d think she’s possessed.”
Reece heard his friend make a choked, agonized sound, but neither man replied.
There was really nothing to say.
As they strode across the foyer and up the narrow wooden stairs to the second floor, waves of magical force began ruffling over Reece’s skin. He winced. The strength of the backwash told him the new Maja had a hell of a lot of power. Which was very bad news under the circumstances.
As if to confirm his fears, he heard a low female voice hissing something incomprehensible from the master bedroom at the end of the hall. As they approached, the words became all too clear. “Kill them,” Elizabeth said. “I’ve got to kill them all. Wipe them off the face of the world before they get me. They’re after me. They—” A sharp crack rattled the house, another lightning strike. Something shattered.
The two men exchanged a grim look.
“Lizzie,” Westlake called as he pasted a fixed, desperate smile on his face. “I’m back. And look who I brought to help us!” He opened the door cautiously.
Reece’s heart lurched at the sight of the hunched figure crouching in a corner of the room. He’d last seen Elizabeth Thompson just the day before in his capacity as Charles Town spymaster. A valued member of his little ring, Lizzie had passed along intelligence she’d charmed from a British colonel.
It had been easy to see why the officer had said more than he should. Her big hazel eyes were enough to melt anyone’s sense of discipline.
Now those eyes glittered wildly from a tangle of black hair, like something small and feral glaring from a thicket. “Oh, look—two big, strong vampires.” Lizzie’s mouth contorted into a twisted parody of her usual warm smile. The hunger in her gaze was chilling. “I wonder—would it give me twice the power if you both fuck me?”
Westlake made an involuntary sound, like a man grunting at a body blow. Reece hid his own shock. Though Lizzie had always been a charming flirt, she’d loved Tom more than life. The Change had twisted her savagely if she could make such a suggestion.
“Elizabeth—”
“Don’t be cross with me, dear Thomas.” She uncoiled from her crouch and started toward them, putting Reece uncomfortably in mind of a cat creeping up on a pair of fat pigeons. Between one step and the next, her white nightrail vanished, leaving her slim body naked and pale. “I only want a little more magical cock. You—” She broke step. Her head turned, as if she watched something small and fast fly around her. “The sparks are so pretty!” she said, her voice suddenly as bright as a child’s. She pointed into the empty air. “Look—there and there and there. Like lightning bugs. Is it June?”
“Put your clothes back on, Lizzie!” Westlake managed, his voice choked and gruff with strangled grief. “Reece has come here to help, and you’re embarrassing him.”
Forgetting the Mageverse energies she alone could see, she resumed her seductive slink. “But I want to fuck.” Before Reece could retreat, she stepped against him and twined both arms around his neck. “Don’t you?” She smelled of old blood, sweat, and sex.
“No,” Reece said firmly, taking her wrists in his hands as he put a more discreet distance between them. He was careful not to let his gaze drift downward. Under different circumstances, he might have appreciated the view, but as it was, he felt sick. “Come, Lizzie, dress yourself. This is serious business.”
Very serious. Given their powers, the Majae would have sensed the disturbance in the Mageverse the moment Westlake Changed his Latent lover. The fact that an execution team hadn’t arrived meant only that The Council was giving the couple a chance to plead their case.
Unfortunately, being vampires, Reece and Thomas couldn’t open a Mageverse gateway to Avalon themselves; only a magic-wielding Maja could do that. And neither of them was stupid enough to step through any gate Lizzie created in her current state. God only knew where it would lead.
As he pushed Lizzie back a pace, Reece struggled to think of something to say when the Knights did arrive. He grimaced as he realized it was an exercise in futility. In trying to keep the woman he loved, Westlake had destroyed her—and put them all in danger from an insane Maja. The Knights would believe he’d earned his death.
As for Lizzie—she was simply too dangerous to be allowed to live.
“What’s that?” She shrank back in fear. “Who’s coming to kill us?”
Reece silently cursed. Touching him as she was, she’d picked up his thoughts.
“Knights.” Hazel eyes rolled like a panicked mare’s. “Armor and magical swords. Arthur and Lancelot and Galahad.” Lizzie cringed, wrapping her arms protectively around herself as her voice spiraled into a wail. “They’ll murder me! They’ll kill me and my sweet Thomas!”
Westlake licked his lips, a sick sheen of sweat rising on his face. “Calm down, sweetheart. Nobody’s going to hurt you.”
“Liar!” Lizzie scuttled away from him, pulling at her own hair in agitation. “They’re coming, coming with their magic swords.” Her eyes narrowed as she suddenly straightened. “But I have magic, too. You gave it to me.”
Light flared around her body with such intensity both vampires had to look away. When it faded, she was covered head to toe in armor that shone with an eerie green luminescence. “That’s better,” Lizzie said, pleased with herself. “Now I’m ready for them.”
Her attention was focused on the sword she held in one hand. She waved it like a child with a new toy, watching the trail of sparks it left in the air.
Hell and damnation. Reece and Westlake retreated a wary pace. Vampires could heal virtually any injury except those inflicted by a magical blade. Mad as she was, Lizzie could kill them both.
The Maja drew a figure-eight pattern in the air with her new weapon, admiring the dancing sparks. “We’re safe now, lover,” she told Westlake. “Now I can get them first.”
Not very damn likely. She might be a menace to Reece and Westlake, neither of whom was wearing armor, but the Knights had been fighting magical battles since Merlin walked the earth.
She was simply no match for them.
“Lizzie, don’t,” Westlake pleaded. “Sweetheart, you’re only going to make them angry. And they’ll be angry enough at me as it is.” To Reece he added softly, “You’d better go. I shouldn’t have pulled you into this to start with.” He shook his head. “I panicked. I thought if anybody could save us, it would be you. But now…”
Reece felt his heart clutch. They’d been friends for years; Westlake had coached him through his first days as a vampire. To be unable to help when his friend needed it most was agonizing. “God, Tom—” He broke off helplessly, unable to think of anything comforting to say. This was not a situation in which comfort was possible.
His expression resigned, Westlake turned to Lizzie, who’d been distracted again by some new magical delusion. “Give me the sword, sweetheart,” he said gently.
She started, her gaze focusing on him as she shrank back, clutching her weapon protectively. “No. I need it.”
“Lizzie—” Thomas reached for the blade as Reece moved a little closer himself. Maybe while Westlake distracted her, he could…
“No!” She backed away a pace, bringing the weapon to bear on her lover’s chest. “No. I see now, you’re helping them. You want to kill me!”
“No! Lizzie, I—” Westlake took another step forward.
She swung.
Reece ducked under her arm and grabbed her, expecting Tom to leap clear. “Dammit, Lizzie, would you—”
A choked, wheezing sound interrupted him.
Lizzie’s eyes flew wide. “Thomas!”
Reece snapped his head around. Westlake stood a pace behind him, looking blankly down at the blade embedded in his chest. She’d chopped into his side, the magical sword biting halfway into his rib cage. He looked up, his gaze meeting his lover’s. “Sweetheart, I’m so sorry.” His voice was faint, wheezing.
Reece released Lizzie and jumped to catch him as he toppled. “Jesus, Tom, why the hell didn’t you dodge?”
Westlake looked up at him, eyes already glazing. “It didn’t”—he stopped to gasp in a bubbling breath—“didn’t seem worth the trouble.”
“Tom!”
Westlake drew in a rattling breath as his gaze tracked past Reece to the woman he’d loved and destroyed. He made one last wrenching attempt at a smile the instant before his face went slack.
“Damn you, Tom,” Reece whispered as the vampire’s heart stuttered and stopped.
“You should have saved him.” Lizzie’s breath hitched. “You were supposed to save him.”
Eyes burning with tears, Reece looked up to snarl at her. “And you weren’t supposed to kill him, you bloody bi—” He broke off.
Energy shimmered and sparked around her fingers in a lethal corona. “No, it’s your fault! You were supposed to save him!” She flung out both hands.
As her first strike seared the air, Reece snatched the sword free of Thomas’s body and rolled clear, tumbling right to her feet as thunder echoed in his ears.
“Bastard!” she spat, dancing back a step. “Traitor! I’ll kill you!” From the corner of one eye, Reece saw the energy blazing brighter around her hands as she gathered herself for another blast. “Die!”
Knowing her next strike would kill him, Reece thrust the sword blindly upward. The blade bit home with a sickening jolt he felt in his own gut.
Lizzie gasped. Her eyes met his over the sword he’d driven through her heart. For an instant, the madness lifted from her gaze, replaced by a pitiful kind of gratitude. Then she toppled backward, sliding free of the blade.
Reece stared wordlessly at the body of the woman who’d been his friend just hours before. His knees gave out from under him and dumped him to the floor.
He was still sitting there, surrounded by stillness and the smell of cooling blood, when yet another silent explosion lit the room. He didn’t even bother to look around. He knew the Knights of the Round Table had arrived.
“Thomas West—” a voice began, only to break off. Somebody else swore, the words weary and profane.
Reece looked up. They’d sent the whole team for this—Arthur, Lancelot, Galahad, Gawain, all the others. All twelve armed in mystical armor, with Morgana Le Fay to provide whatever magic was needed.
The vampire who’d once been High King of Britain looked down at the crumpled bodies and shook his dark head. “Oh, Westlake,” Arthur said softly, “you made a botch of this.”
“He loved Lizzie.” Reece’s voice sounded hoarse and choked to his own ears. “And he knew you’d never let him stay with her unless he made her a Maja.”
“Yes, well, if Westlake loved her so much, he should have walked away,” Morgana said coldly, her elegant lip curling in disgust as she bent to examine the wound in Lizzie’s chest. “We told him she wouldn’t be able to withstand gaining a Maja’s powers, but he had to go and Change her anyway. And look what happened. They ended up killing each other.”
“For once, Morgana, you’re wrong. She killed him, but he didn’t kill her.” Reece rose to his feet, feeling stiff and old. “I did.” He started toward the door.
Arthur caught his arm before he could brush by. “You did what you had to do, lad. There was no saving her.”
“I doubt that.” He looked at Morgana, bitterness and grief making him reckless. “With your powers, you could have found a way to cure her.”
The Maja sighed. “No, actually, we couldn’t have. Oh, we could have restored her to sanity for a few minutes, but the energies of the Mageverse would have quickly overwhelmed her mind again. And once a Maja has access to her magic, the connection can’t be severed.” She shook her head, her long hair swinging around her lean, elegant face. “Their fates were sealed the moment Westlake came in her that last time.”
Reece pulled free of Arthur’s grasp. “I knew that before I walked in the door.”