Read Online Master of Wolves by Angela Knight - Free Book Online Page B

K-9….”
    Stung by the implication, she glared. “Rambo sure as hell didn’t eat him.”
    Young nodded, his gaze cold. “Then like I say, must have been rottweilers.”
    She glanced around the table at the tense, angry cops who surrounded her. “Yeah,” she said finally. “Must have been.”
    Â 
    Faith was still brooding as she walked out to the car. It was a cool night, so for once she hadn’t left the engine running to provide air conditioning for Rambo. The open windows were enough to keep him from overheating.
    The dog whined softly from the back as she got in. She closed the door and sat still a moment, frowning out the windshield at the gas station across the street.
    â€œSomething’s badly wrong with this department, ’Bo. The question is, what am I going to do about it?” She started the car and drove out of the lot, turning up Main in the direction of her zone.
    The usual procedure when a cop suspected fellow officers of corruption was to report the incident to his or her immediate superior. Unfortunately, Faith’s immediate superior was Sergeant Young himself. She could go over his head to her lieutenant, but that was virtually guaranteed to piss off the entire second shift.
    Faith was willing to take them all on if she had to, but only if she had some kind of solid evidence of something going on. So far all she had was a gut feeling.
    The only thing to do, she decided, was keep her eyes open and see what happened.
    Â 
    Celestine Gentry stood in the ballroom of her plantation house, concentrating fiercely on the spell she was about to cast. A mistake now could be fatal. It had to be perfect.
    â€œWhat are you waiting for?” the werewolf demanded, clenching his clawed hands as he all but bounced on long, inhuman feet. He was a towering figure, covered in sable fur that shimmered in the light of the chandeliers. Golden eyes all but glowed in his lupine skull, feral with excitement. “Let’s go.”
    â€œShut up,” she gritted. Keith Reynolds was an adrenalin junkie; he viewed the possibility of getting killed with the enthusiasm of a coke addict surveying a line of pure Peruvian flake. “I have to get this spell right or they’ll be all over us.”
    â€œDon’t worry about the vamps. I’ll take care of them.”
    â€œIt’s not that easy.” Reynolds had no idea what it was like to be at the mercy of people who relished your suffering. Celeste, on the other hand, understood that kind of powerlessness all too well.
    Obtaining Korbal’s Grail would go a long way toward ensuring her safety, but to get it, she had to go up against Korbal himself. And he was one of the most powerful of Geirolf’s cultists—so much so, he’d been one of the three priests chosen to transform them all into the demon’s vampire army. The idea of confronting all that chilling power made sweat break out on Celestine’s forehead.
    Get over it, she told herself savagely. You’re either predator or you’re prey, remember? And you sure as shit don’t want to be prey.
    Celestine squared her shoulders, took a deep breath, and reached deep for the power she’d seized. She’d told Reynolds to take his time with Cruise, and she reaped the benefit of that magical murder now.
    Stolen life force surged though her as she lifted her hands, preparing to cast the spell. Slowly, she began the chant, the ancient, alien words burning her tongue with their twisted syllables. Dark energy boiled up from her soul like a bloody fountain, rolling down her arms to blast from her shaking fingertips. She kept chanting, shaping the magic with every word, forcing it to her will, building a dimensional gate between her home and the lair of her enemies. But not just any gate—one even Korbal with all his powers would be unable to sense.
    At last it hung there, shimmering, gleaming red walls visible beyond its