Dance of the Gods by Nora Roberts Read Free Book Online Page B

it, to the blood pooled on the floor, to the faces of the terrified and the mad. Even as they watched, a vampire unlocked one of the cages, dragged the woman inside it out. The sound she made was a kind of keening, and her eyes seemed already dead.
    â€œLora’s bored,” it said as it pulled her across the filthy floor by the hair. “She wants something to play with.”
    In one of the cages, a man began to beat the bars and scream. “You bastards! You bastards!”
    The tear that spilled down Glenna’s cheek was cold.
    â€œHoyt.”
    â€œWe’ll try. Him, the one who’s shouting. He’s strong, and it may help. See him. See nothing else.”
    Because she needed the words as well as the sight, Glenna began to chant. Moira’s voice joined her.
    And the ground trembled.
    Â 
    L arkin was singing. Something about a black-haired maid from Dara. Blair didn’t mind listening; he had a clear, easy voice. The sort, she thought, of a man used to raising it in a pub, or while he walked the fields. And it was calming to have the tune, the steady roar of the sea, and the warm beam of the sun.
    Added to it, the simple companionship was a change for her. Usually when she waited, she waited alone.
    â€œYou wouldn’t have the little thing? The little thing with the music in it with you?”
    â€œNo. Sorry. Next time I get a chance, I’m buying myself a pair of those Oakley Thumps, got the MP3 player built in. Sunglasses.” She mimed the shape of them over her face—and it occurred to her Larkin would look damn hot wearing a pair himself. “With the little thing with the music inside them.”
    â€œYou can wear the music?” His whole face lit up. “What a world of miracles this is.”
    â€œI don’t know about miracles, but it’s jammed with technology. Wish I’d thought to bring the player along.” Music would be easier than all this conversation. She was used to waiting alone, damn it. Not hanging around with a companion, exchanging small talk and life stories.
    It was making her itchy.
    â€œWell, that’s all right. Be nice if I had my pipe.”
    â€œPipe.” She turned her head. Couldn’t quite fit the idea of a pipe with that gilded Irish god face. “You smoke a pipe?”
    â€œSmoke? No, no.” He laughed, shifted his weight as he lifted his hands in front of his mouth, wiggled his fingers. “Play. The pipe. Now and again.”
    â€œOh, okay.” His eyes were the color of good, dark honey.Might look hot in a pair of Oakleys, she mused, but it would be a shame to put lenses over those eyes. “That works.”
    â€œDo you play anything? Musically?”
    â€œMe? No. Never had time to learn. Unless you count beating out a tattoo on vampires.” She mimed again—it seemed they did a lot of charades between them—punching her fists in the air.
    â€œWell now, your sword sings, that’s for certain.” He gave her a friendly little shoulder bump. “Don’t know as I’ve heard the like of it. And this would be a fine place for a battle, I’m thinking.” He tapped fingers rhythmically on the hilt of his sword. “The sea, the rocks, the bright sun. Aye, a fine spot.”
    â€œSure, if you like not having an escape route, or losing your footing on slick rocks. Drowning.”
    He gave her a pitying look and a sigh. “You’re not considering the atmosphere, the dramatic tone of it all. Can vampires drown?” he wondered.
    â€œNot so much. They…Did you feel that?” She pushed off the rock as the ground under her vibrated.
    â€œI did. Maybe the spell’s breaking down.” He drew his sword, scanned the cliff wall. “Maybe the caves behind it will appear now.”
    â€œIf they do, you’re not going in. You gave your word.”
    â€œI keep my word.” Irritation flickered over his face. This was the soldier