“Yeah? How?”
“By performing an exorcism, of course.”
Saintcrow muttered an oath, then said, “Sorry, Father.”
The priest smiled faintly. “No apology needed.”
“So what do we do and when do we do it?”
“Here and now, if it suits you,” Lanzoni said.
Saintcrow glanced from the priest to Mara and back again. “How do you know it’ll work?”
“All it takes is a little faith,” Lanzoni assured him.
“Faith.” Saintcrow snorted softly. “On whose part?”
“Mine. And yours, of course.”
“Not afraid, are you?” Mara challenged.
“I don’t know. What are the after-effects?”
“None, if I do it right,” Lanzoni replied with a mischievous grin.
“Have you done something like this before?”
“Not on an ancient vampire.”
“It will leave you weak,” Mara said. “That’s why I am here.”
Gaining his feet, Saintcrow paced the floor in front of the altar. He was intrigued by the idea of an exorcism, and equally hesitant. Lanzoni had never performed one on an ancient vampire. Who knew what the consequences might be?
“Well?” Mara asked, a note of impatience in her voice. “Have we come all this way for nothing?”
“The witch will never have any kind of magical or vampiric power over you again,” Lanzoni remarked. “If that helps you make up your mind.”
That was all Saintcrow needed to know. “Let’s do it.”
At the priest’s direction, Saintcrow stretched out on the altar. He shivered as an odd tremor ran through him. A thick silence fell over the church as Lanzoni took his place on one side of him, and Mara on the other.
Reaching into the pocket of his trousers, Lanzoni withdrew a long black cloth. It had a white cross embroidered on each end. Holding it in his hands, he murmured a few words before draping it around his neck.
Outside, there was a low rumble of thunder.
“Rylan Saintcrow, do you have faith in what I am about to do?” the priest asked.
Mouth suddenly dry, Saintcrow said, “I do. I just hope it’s enough.”
Outside, the wind picked up. There was a sudden flash of lightning, bright enough to pierce the interior gloom, followed by another, louder, growl of thunder.
Saintcrow looked up at the priest. “What the hell?”
“Not to worry.” Lanzoni smiled faintly as he placed his right hand on Saintcrow’s head and his left over Saintcrow’s heart. Closing his eyes, the priest began to chant in a language Saintcrow didn’t recognize. It sounded faintly like ancient Latin.
Saintcrow flinched as what felt like living fingers of flame spiraled through him from head to foot. It wasn’t like any other pain he had ever suffered, and it hurt like the devil.
Outside, lightning scorched the skies while drumrolls of thunder and a ferocious wind battered the ancient church, causing it to shudder.