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drink blood and lavish themselves in luxurious underground palaces. Not a big common bond, as far as I
can see. But hey, what do I know?
We step inside the house and walk down a narrow corri-dor and into a quaint little parlor. Gandalf (who
introduces himself as Llewellyn the Pendragon, which is evidently some kind of leadership position in the
druid world) invites us to sit down and asks if we'd like a "spot o' tea."
"Though I understand it is not your drink of choice," he says to me with a wink. Ugh. Grandpa Druid
isn't trying to hit on me, is he?
After we tell him we're cool with the whole tea thing and would just prefer to get down to business, the
old druid sinks into one of the parlor chairs and leans forward, elbows on his knees, saying he's eager to
hear our request.
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So Magnus goes through the whole spiel. My accidental bite. How he's been trying to reverse the
transformation. How only a drop of pure blood from the Holy Grail can do the trick, yada, yada, yada.
"I see," Llewellyn says when he's finished. "And you are under the impression that we know where the
Grail is buried."
"I had hoped," Magnus agrees, "that you would be so kind as to lead us there."
"We have been chosen by the Goddess herself to be the Guardians of the Grail for millennia," Llewellyn
says, his voice cold and formal."'Tis a task we take seriously. Allow-ing an unpure, undead being near
the holy chalice would be blasphemy."
My heart sinks at his words. Oh great. He's going to be difficult about this, isn't he? Figures. We get this
far and then we're totally shot down. I just know I am doomed to walk the earth as an undead forever.
Perfect.
"I understand," Magnus says. "Though perhaps a tithe, made to the Goddess, the great Earth Mother,
would ease her mind about such a trespass."
Llewellyn frowns. "Do you dare bribe me, vampire?" he asks, angrily. "You should know better than
that. Our Order is based on love and nature and purity. We are not mercenaries, able to be bought with
something as common as coin."
"A tithe of one million pounds," Magnus adds in an even voice.
My mouth drops open. So does Llewellyn's, though he quickly shuts it again.
"Let me ..." He clears his throat. "Let me consult with the Goddess in our Sacred Grove. I shall return
with your answer.
He rises from his seat and exits the room. Once he's gone, Magnus turns to me.
"Lesson number one. Everyone has their price," he says. "Even those who commune with nature must
still pay rent and buy food at the market."
I giggle. "But a million pounds, Mag?" I ask, remember-ing the amount he offered. "That's a lot of
money. Almost two million American dollars if I've got the conversion right. Are you sure you want to
give a million pounds?"
"You are worth it."
Gah. What do I even say to that? I can't deal when he says stuff like that. I mean, in one sense I like it. It
gives me that whole chills-tripping-down-my-spine thing. But in another, I realize it's dangerous. I can't
succumb to his charm. I must move on with my life.
"Yeah, yeah," I reply at last, using sarcasm to deflect his sentiments. "Whatever."
Eager to change the subject, I bounce up from my seat and head over to the door that Llewellyn has just
exited. I put my ear to the wood. (Aren't druids supposed to be one with the trees and thus against
objects created through their demise, like wooden doors? It'd be like a Hindu chowing on cow or my
vegetarian mom wearing leather pumps.)
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"It's a million pounds, dude!" a voice on the other side is saying. A voice, in fact, that sounds remarkably
like Llewel-lyn's, were he to use words likedude, which before now I would not have guessed him to do.
"Is that bleeding fantastic or wot?"
"Yeah, but wot we're supposed to be is Guardians and stuff," another male voice argues. "You know.
Sacred Mis-sion and all that?"
"Eff that, mate. Do you know what kind of flat in Lon-don we could get for a million pounds? We could
spend every night at the pub downing Stella, watching footy on the telly, and picking up fancy birds. It'll
be brilliant."
Hm, somehow I'm thinking he's not talking about blue-jays and robins here. So much for Nature Boy
and his Holy Orders. I'm actually a bit disappointed. But if I've learned one thing on this crazy vampire
journey, it's that no one is really like you'd imagine them to be. And, of course, in this case, the old leader
of an ancient druid order turning out to be a money-grubbing hooligan greatly works out to our benefit.
"A'right," the other voice agrees. "But let's show 'em the Grail real quick. In-and-out like, before the rest
of 'em wake up from their festival 'angovers and we have to share the quid with those tossers."
"Too right."
I leap back to my seat, just in time for "Llewellyn" (BTW I'm pretty convinced now that's a fake name;
he's probably really called Bob or something) to walk through the door in the most regal, ceremonial
manner. Heh.
"Good people of the earth," he begins, back to speaking like he's a cast member fromLord of the
Rings. "I have re-turned from my consultation with the Good Mother, who once bore the very earth from
her womb."
I stifle a giggle. Yeah. Good Mother, a.k.a Cockney friend in the kitchen, same diff.
"And?" Magnus prompts.
"And she has " He pauses for dramatic effect. Honestly, these druids are almost as bad as the Goths.
" decided to grant your request. On the account that your mission is to purify and redeem the blood of
a virgin who has been cruelly ripped from innocence by a damned creature of the Other World."
Okay, I know his speech is total BS, but excuse me, how the hell does everyone know that I'm still a
virgin? Really, I want to know. Is there some stamp on my forehead I can't see? Some secret handshake
I don't know?
"Please tell the Good Mother that we are eternally grate-ful for her extreme generosity," Magnus
instructs, before I can tell the druid to stop casually throwing around the V-word, The vampire holds out
a briefcase I hadn't noticed him car-rying. "And that I hope this tithe will further the good work that she
pursues."
Or allow two local guys to drink and get laid, in this case, but hey, it all works for me.
Llewellyn accepts the briefcase, his eyes shining with his greed, and opens it. Inside lie stacks upon
stacks of high-numbered bills.
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"Holy fu " he starts, then catches himself. "Yes, this tithe will be most pleasing to Her Goodness." He
closes the briefcase and tells us he will return. Then he exits back into the kitchen.
Magnus and I exchange amused glances. "I still think he would have taken much less of a . . . donation,"
I say.
The vampire shrugs."Iwould have given him much more."
I blush again. He's been so good to me. "Thank you, Mag," I say. "It really means a lot to me."
"I know," he says in a very serious tone. "It means a lot to me as well."
23
Grail Hunting
About fifteen minutes later we're climbing down a dark spiral stone staircase, deep underground, with
Llewellyn as our guide. Still holding on to that false nature image, he insists on using a torch to light our
way. But whatever. As long as we get there, I guess.
"This passageway leads underneath the mighty Tor," our druidic tour guide explains. "It was dug a
thousand years ago by our Order's ancestors."
Wow. Real fascinating. You know, this guy could get a job as a tour guide for the Tower of London,
once he blows his million on booze and chicks.
We reach the bottom of the stairs and come to a wrought-iron gate. Llewellyn reaches into his robe to
pull out an antique-looking key, made of gold. No high-tech key codes for these guys, I guess. He fits the
key into the lock and the gate creaks open, revealing a low ceiling over a cobwebbed passageway,
leading into the darkness.
In other words, my worst nightmare.
"This way," Llewellyn commands, beckoning with a long-fingernailed hand.
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