“Means they’ll have guards there,” I said.

“True. We’ll have to silence them. It can be done. If we can move fully through the galleries, we’ll be within two hundred feet of the base of the temple. That’s where we think they’ll be performing the ritual. In the temple.”

“Plenty of temples got built on top of ley line confluences,” I said, nodding. I studied the map. “A lot can happen in two hundred feet,” I said. “Even moving fast.”

Martin nodded. “Yes, it can. And, if our various intelligence sources are correct, there are more than a thousand individuals nearby.”

“A thousand vampires?” I asked.

Martin shrugged. “Many. Many will be their personal guards. Others, the . . . highest-ranking servants, I suppose you would call them. They are like Susan and myself. There may also be mortal foot soldiers, there to keep the sacrifices in line.”

“Sacrifices, plural?”

Martin nodded. “The ceremonies of the Red Court of old could last for days, with blood sacrifices made every few minutes. There might be a hundred or two hundred others chosen to die before the ritual.”

I didn’t shudder, but only by sheer force of will. “Yeah. Priming the pump.” I nodded. “Probably they’re doing it right now.”

“Yes,” Martin said.

“What we need,” I said.

“A diversion,” Martin said.

I nodded. “Get everyone looking in one direction. Then Susan, Lea, and I will hit the temple, get the kid. Then we all run for Father Forthill’s sanctuary on holy ground.”

“They’ll catch us long before we can cover that distance.”

“You ever tried chasing a faerie through the woods at night?” I asked wryly. “Trust me. If we can break contact, we can make it a few miles.”

“Why not retreat directly to the spirit world?” Martin asked.

I shook my head. “No way. Creatures this old and powerful know all the tricks there, and they’ll be familiar with the terrain on the other side that close to their strong places. I won’t fight them on that ground unless there’s no other choice. We head for the church.” I pointed to the location of the church, in a small town only about two and a half miles from Chichén Itzá.

Martin smiled faintly. “Do you honestly think a parish chapel will withstand the might of the Red King?”

“I have to think that, Martin,” I said. “Besides, I think a parish chapel with all three Swords defending it, along with two members of the White Council and an elder sorceress of the Winter Sidhe, will be a tough nut to crack. And all we have to do is make it until dawn. Then we’re back in the jungle and gone.”

Martin mused on that for a moment and said, “It might work.”

“Yeah. It might,” I said. “We need to move. Our ride is outside waiting.”

“Right.”

Martin looked at Susan and nodded. Then he put his fingers to his mouth and let out a piercing whistle. The good-natured discussion came to a halt and he said, “The car’s outside.”

“Let’s go, people,” I said quietly. “It’s the big green car.”

Everyone grew serious rather rapidly, and began gathering up their various forms of gear.

Susan went out first, to make sure there weren’t any problems with Lea, and everyone filed out after her, Sanya last.

“Sanya,” I said. “Who did I get cast as?”

“Sam,” Sanya said.

I blinked at him. “Not . . . Oh, for crying out loud, it was perfectly obvious who I should have been.”

Sanya shrugged. “It was no contest. They gave Gandalf to your godmother. You got Sam.” He started to leave and then paused. “Harry. You have read the books as well, yes?”

“Sure,” I said.

“Then you know that Sam was the true hero of the tale,” Sanya said. “That he faced far greater and more terrible foes than he ever should have had to face, and did so with courage. That he went alone into a black and terrible land, stormed a dark fortress, and resisted the most terrible temptation of his world for the sake of the friend he loved. That in the end, it was his actions and his actions alone that made it possible for light to overcome darkness.”

I thought about that for a second. Then I said, “Oh.”

He clapped me on the shoulder and left.

He didn’t mention the other part of the book. That following the heroes when they set out was the tenth member of their party. A broken creature who went through all the same dangers and trials, who had made a single bad choice and taken up a power he didn’t understand— and who had become a demented, miserable, living nightmare because of it. In the end, he had been just as necessary to the overthrow of the darkness.

But he sure as hell didn’t enjoy his part.

I shook my head and berated myself sharply. Here I was wasting time talking about a damned book. About a world of blacks and whites with precious little in the way of grey, where you could tell the good guys from the bad guys with about two seconds of effort.

And right now, I didn’t give a damn about good and bad. I just wanted a little girl home safe.

It didn’t matter which of them I was. As long as I got Maggie home.

I picked up my bag, left St. Mary’s behind me, and stalked out to my wicked godmother’s limo, pulling the soft hood of my dark cape up over my head.

If I was on the road to Hell, at least I was going in style.

Chapter 40

There was room for everyone in the back of the limo. I was pretty sure that there hadn’t been the first time I’d ridden in it. But it had gotten several extra feet of seats along the walls, and everyone was sitting there being only a little bit crowded as Glenmael charged out to assault Chicago’s streets.

“I still think we should try a frontal assault,” Sanya argued.

“Suicidally stupid,” Martin said, his voice scornful.

“Surprise tactic!” Sanya countered. “They will not expect it after a thousand years of never being challenged. Harry, what do you think?”

“Uh,” I said.

And then Ebenezar’s voice said, quite clearly and from no apparent source, “Damn your stubborn eyes, boy! Where have you been?”

I went rigid with surprise for a second. I looked around the interior of the limo, but no one had reacted, with the exception of my godmother. Lea sighed and rolled her eyes.

Right. The speaking stones. I’d stuck mine in the bag, but since I was holding it on my lap now, it was close enough to be warmed by the heat of my body to function. It was possible to send terse messages through the stones without first establishing a clear connection, as my mentor and I had done back toward the beginning of this mess.

“Damnation and hellfire, Hoss!” growled Ebenezar’s voice. “Answer me!”

I looked from Sanya to my godmother. “Uh. I kind of have to take this call.”

Sanya blinked at me. Thomas and Murphy exchanged a significant glance.

“Oh, shut up,” I said crossly. “It’s magic, okay?”

I closed my eyes and fumbled through the bag until I found the stone. I didn’t really need to show up in my outlandish costume for this conversation, so I thought about my own physical body for a moment, concentrating on an image of my limbs and flesh and normal clothing forming around my thoughts.

“So help me, boy, if you don’t—”

Ebenezar appeared in my mind’s eye, wearing his usual clothing. He broke off suddenly as he looked at me and his face went pale. “Hoss? Are you all right?”

“Not really,” I said. “I’m kind of in the middle of something here. What do you want?”

“Your absence from the conclave did not go over well,” he responded, his voice sharp. “There are people in the Grey Council who think you aren’t to be trusted. They’re very, very wary of you. By missing the meeting, you told them that either you don’t respect our work enough to bother showing up, or else that you don’t have the wisdom and the fortitude to commit to the cause.”

“I never saw the appeal of peer pressure,” I said. “Sir, I’m finding a little girl. I’ll come play Council politics after I get her home safe, if you want.”