Inevitable (The Curse of Avalon Book 2)

by Sariah Skye

  “What’s that?” Xander asked, bringing me out of a daze.

  “Huh?” I asked, inappropriately loud; the guys were attempting to be inconspicuous and I was yelling. Oops.

  Xander thrust out a hand, shoving my metal stunner down. I hadn’t realized I had jumped, and was pointing it at him. I winced sheepishly.

  “What’s with the noise?” Xander questioned. It was a constant, muted rumble like a wild river; raging rapids roaring steadily against our ears.

  “I’m not as worried about the noise, as I am the giant…thing in the air!” Bash stopped in his tracks, and we followed his gaze.

  The rumbling was coming from a patch of sky that appeared out of place, just slightly darker than the dim, inky black that surrounded it. It shimmered and writhed like a deep fog in the night, surrounding a deep bluish-purple jagged line that twisted and bent in time to the noise.

  “That was precisely what we saw outside at the Stargazer!” Xander exclaimed apprehensively. He raised his sword, and flicked open his free hand, summoning sparks in his palm.

  I placed a gentle hand on his arm, shaking my head.

  He released the magic, and took a small step backward, but didn’t lower his sword.

  “What is it?” Mathias asked. “Some kind of portal?”

  “That’s probably exactly what it is,” Bash replied.

  Mathias raised a brow momentarily, tucking his sword into a belt to free his hands. He pushed a hand into his pocket and pulled out a large glass vial with a swirling black liquid inside.

  “What’s that?” I inquired.

  He eyed it warily, turning it over in his hand. “When I told Link what was going on, he gave me this. Said it was supposed to help somehow.”

  “Help?”

  “You trust him?” I asked.

  Mathias sighed. “I trust Mr. Finn, and he trusts Link, so…”

  “What if it releases like, demons? Or Satan himself?” My voice squeaked with uncertainty.

  Bash scoffed. “We’ll handle it. Nothing we haven’t dealt with before.”

  I swallowed nervously. “Well if we’re going to figure out what’s going on, we need that thing to open, so…”

  Bash and Xander glanced at me, and then at Mathias. “Do it,” Bash instructed.

  Xander appeared uneasy, but ultimately agreed with a quick nod.

  Mathias inclined his head, as Trystan hovered in the air inquisitively. “Stay with Ava,” he instructed, and the eagle shrieked.

  Trystan lowered himself to my eye-level and released his claws. He bumped at my shoulder with his feet.

  “I think he wants to sit on your shoulder,” Bash said, amused.

  “How…?” Trystan’s eagle form was almost half the size of me—how in the hell did one large Scot, fit inside that much-smaller, eagle body? Fucking magic, I thought, snickering at my mind as I hesitantly raised my arm, giving Eagle-Trystan a much larger surface to land on.

  Trystan let out an appreciative chirp—eagles could chirp?—and clutched his large, yellow eagle feet, claws retracted, around the top of my shoulder blade firmly. He folded his wings against his broad, feathered back, and cawed.

  I blinked at him as he cocked his head; it was completely surreal, staring into those piercing green eyes. I could see Trystan in them, without a doubt. How fucking strange was it that my boyfriend was sitting on my goddamn shoulder?

  I supposed no stranger than having four boyfriends at one time. As long as he didn’t shit on my shoulder. “Eagles don’t crap on people, do they?” I quipped quietly, loud enough for only Trystan. Really, this was the last thought I needed to be having right now. Big, giant, magical maw above us…I’m worried about bird shit.

  Eagle-Trystan let out a noisy caw. I hoped it meant, “No we don’t! That’d be disgusting.”

  “Good.”

  He craned his feathered head off to the side, bobbing his head in attempt to get Mathias’ attention.

  Mathias nodded at him with understanding, and now he had everyone’s permission to allow the shit to hit the fan (just—not the bird shit, please). Inhaling deeply, he pulled his arm back, took aim, and tossed the vial into the shadowy abyss overhead. It made a hissing sound as the vial was absorbed, before it began to twist and whirl violently into a mess of midnight blue and deep swirls of purple that darkened our immediate surroundings.

  And then, nothing.

  We stood motionless, anxiously awaiting…something. Any reaction, an explosion, a noise; but the jagged crack in the sky was still.

  “Ohh-kay…” I glanced at the guys that appeared just as bewildered as I was.

  Until a huge crash of thunder crashed against our ears, followed immediately by a blinding flash of white light.

  I yelped loudly, ducking low as the maw opened, and a pulse of raw energy burst outward.

  Trystan tumbled off my shoulder, flapping his wings wildly to break his fall, and shifted uncomfortably into his human form. The other guys crouched together, dropping their respective weapons just as the pulse began to overtake us.

  “Ava!” One of the guys cried out. The panic in his voice triggered the magic deep inside. It rang loudly at the back of my mind, begging for release. I flung out my hands, calling for my invisible shield over us, just as the pulse of energy reached. The blinding wave of indeterminate magic parted as it met the shield I threw over us, and spread out, flattening shrubs and small trees before fizzling out.

  “Look!” Bash said, pointing at the jagged maw, which had morphed into a spinning black hole.

  “The hell—?” Xander started to speak, when the maw expelled a squirming brown mass. It was flung to the ground, skidded across the dirt before it came to a sudden stop, crashing into the shield still around us.

  Bash and Mathias raised their weapons and took lead. Xander didn’t budge from my side and rose his katana defiantly. I kept the stunner close to me, as Trystan, still woefully unarmed, grabbed the top layer of my dress, and draped it over his hips, hiding his…sword.

  The mound of brown began to untangle, slowly.

  “What is it?” Bash questioned, bewildered.

  “Not sure. But…” I gingerly stepped forward, my grandmother’s words echoing in the back of my mind. My heart rapped steadily against my chest, like the beating drum in Avalon. “Hello?” I asked, inching closer.

  Bash protectively leaped in front of me, but I gently clasped his arm, wrapping it through mine. I acknowledged him with a nod, and we slowly inched forward to indiscriminate figure trembling on the ground.

  The figure grumbled, “Ugh, what a nightmare.”

  “A nightmare?” I asked, responding to the raspy, unfamiliar male voice.

  “What’s a nightmare?” Xander asked, joining us near the figure’s side, gazing at it carefully.

  I pointed. “He said it was a nightmare.”

  “He did?”

  “Yes.”

  The bizarre man from the portal began to stand, stretching out his long limbs. From the back, his legs were completely bare; he wore no pants or shoes on his gnarled feet. They were dirty—actually filthy was a more appropriate term. A brown woolen robe was barely draped over his upper body, ripped and dragging along one of his legs, and nearly exposing his backside. Long, matted brown hair, tangled around masses of twigs, leaves, and vines hung down his back. He stood slowly, ambling awkwardly on his weak limbs.

  I blanched as the man stumbled and turned to face us. He had a manic sparkle in his bloodshot, brown eyes, and that was about all of the features I could discern, as his face was covered in a long, knotted beard that hung to his chest, and a chunk of his brown hair, entangled with mud and filth clung to his cheek. His robe was tattered into wisps of string in front, barely concealing anything underneath. I raised a hand to my eyes to give him a bit of modesty; pretty sure if he stood any straighter, his dangly-bits would be hanging past the ratted hem.

  “I’d offer him something to wear, but…” Trystan quipped from next to me, still holding pa
rt of my dress in front of him.

  I elbowed him—hard—right in the ribs.

  “Who the fuck are you?” Bash demanded, relaxing his stance, but never lowering his weapon. The man was clearly unarmed, but that didn’t necessarily mean a damn thing.

  “Finally. I’ve been trying to get through to you for some time, daughter of Avalon,” the dirty man said, his voice cracking and strained as if just using it for the first time in a while. He started to bow at the waist, then thought against, as his robe hiked up in back. He cackled, revealing a set of dingy and cracked teeth through his beard. “Anyway, your grandmother sent me. I go by the name of Riss generally. That’s short for Emrys, but I like being modern. So it’s ‘Reese’ with an ‘h’, but rhymes with piss. Funny, huh?” He guffawed lightly and stopped when no one laughed at his joke.

  “But, you can also call me by my given name—” He grinned widely this time, the effect wholly disturbing.

  “—Merlin.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  “Merlin?!” I repeated his name, with equal parts of shock and utter disbelief.

  He lifted a gnarled, soiled finger over his crazed smile. “Shhh, Avalon. Not so loud—in this world I go by Rhys. I said that, already, right? Or Emrys Ambrosius, I’m also known by. Or—”

  I snorted, interrupting his tangent, eyeing him suspiciously. He certainly looked nothing like I would imagine Merlin—the Merlin—to look like. Though, he did have the long hair and beard… but he wasn’t silver-haired, aged, or looked particularly wise. Nor did he resemble an animated mouse like Mickey in Fantasia.

  Perhaps I needed to rethink my influences.

  Bash let out a derisive chuckle. “Merlin? You’re absolutely mad! You’re no more Merlin than I am Tinkerbell!”

  “Ah, mad! Not the first time I’ve been called that!” He winked one of his bloodshot eyes, and Bash groaned loudly, raising his weapon higher, glowering with intimidation.

  Rhys, the Merlin-imposter/wannabe gave Bash the once-over, not even acknowledging the powerful sword he carried. A hint of a smirk quirked his mouth; it was positively disconcerting. He certainly appeared completely mad. “Well,” he said to Bash, “you could resemble a fairy. Just need a little glitter, and a tutu, and oh—a sexy leotard!” Rhys let out a wolf-whistle, waggling his hips back and forth so hard, I thought he was going to flash us his naughty bits in front. He flicked a hand upward in a flitting motion, and a puff of pink glitter shot out from it, before dissolving into a wisp of smoke. He grimaced. “Ugh. I’m still weak from my portal jump. Took you all long enough to figure out to open the forsaken thing, instead of shutting it on me!” He jiggled a finger back and forth, clicking his tongue with disappointment. He shrugged, shaking out his hand, and shoving it in an imaginary pocket in his nearly non-existent robes. He laughed when he realized there wasn’t one and shrugged indifferently. “Well, now that I’m here, I’m going to get washed up if you don’t mind. This way, right?” He pointed towards the general direction of the house and began limping through the woods.

  Xander, Trystan, and I just stared open-mouthed; exchanging looks that clearly meant, “Okay, what in the actual fuck is going on here!?”

  “Please don’t tell me this is what your grandmother sent here?” Bash howled with laughter. “I think that gem I enhanced obviously has…issues.”

  “Clearly.” Xander agreed wryly.

  Mathias thrust his weapon towards Trystan. Carefully, he took it, dropping the layer of my dress he was hiding with, and shrugged nonchalantly; letting everything hang out.

  In a blur, Mathias ran to cut off “Rhys” before he could make much headway towards the house. In a motion too quick for human eyes, he gripped the mystery hobo by the throat, and raised him high in the air. “Who. Are. You?” Mathias’ voice deepened as his stature increased, his clothing straining against his growing muscles.

  Rhys’ eyes widened in absolute terror, thrashing about under Mathias’ iron grip, grappling against his hand. “I am Merlin. I can prove it! I just need nourishment! It’s been a long time! Morgaine has kept me locked away!”

  Mathias’ maintained his size but loosened his grip only slightly; the disheveled man still hung from his fist like a ragdoll.

  “Morgaine locked you away? Where? How can you prove it?” I demanded.

  Rhys craned his gaze in my direction. “I am from the Isle of Avalon,” he said, in a mysterious language I understood: Avalonian.

  I raised my brow. “How is that possible?”

  Rhys grinned widely. “Avalon recognizes its maker. Well, the isle anyway.”

  “You…” I shook my head. “Mathias, just let him down. Let’s hear what he has to say.”

  Mathias nodded, and reluctantly set him down with a thump to his feet. Rhys recoiled, leaning over slightly to rub at his lower back. “Ow, you pack a wallop!”

  Mathias smirked. “You obviously haven’t been the recipient of Ava’s right hook,” he said playfully, with a wink towards me.

  I beamed proudly, shaking my stunner at him. “Don’t you forget it, fucker.”

  Rhys shook his head. “So much more brash than your grandmother mentioned. An odd fit for the isle’s magic.”

  I sneered at him. “You know nothing about me.”

  Rhys considered this with a bob of his head. “This is true. I can tell you more…if you let me access to your pantry and your washroom.”

  Mathias clamped a large hand at the back of his neck. “We will…tolerate you for a time. But if you so much as fart wrong, I will tear you limb from limb.”

  Rhys gave Mathias a once-over, shuddering severely. “Of that, I have no doubt.” He turned to me, his dirty face earnest. “I know you have no reason to trust me right now. But know this—Morgaine is my mortal enemy.”

  Mathias chuckled dryly. “She is ours. Get in line.”

  Rhys’s bushy eyebrow shot upward. “The enemy of my enemy is also my friend,” he spoke with absolute seriousness. I nodded shortly in understanding. For now, it would have to do.

  “Let’s go,” Mathias growled with menace. He was glowering, flaring his nostrils, narrowing his eyes to appear more intimidating—not that he needed to, Rhys was intimidated by him enough. He practically dragged the supposed-wizard through the property, and Xander and Bash quickly trailed after weapons at the ready, appearing just as menacing.

  “I probably don’t look all that appropriate like this, eh?” Trystan changed back into his eagle form, using the excuse that he was to check on the existence of the other magic phenomena—what we now knew as a portal. He took one flight straight up, paused briefly, and dove back down to hover near my shoulder again.

  “Showoff,” I said to him.

  Nessie was waiting at the front door, patiently sitting and flicking her tail back and forth. She eyed the newcomer cautiously, and then Trystan’s eagle form, but backed off when Xander gently urged her to the side so we could pass.

  “This has to be weird for her,” I muttered, as she sniffed the air after Trystan glided carefully under the doorframe.

  “Don’t crap in the house!” Xander kidded him. Trystan shifted back into his human self in the living room, grabbed a pillow, placing it over his crotch, and disappeared to the bathroom down the hallway. But not before lifting up his free hand and flicking Xander off.

  “Don’t let that daft son of a bitch into my bathroom!” Trystan called in a panic, before we heard the slam of a door, not wanting to lose access to his favorite bathtub.

  Mathias grunted, and pushed Rhys into the kitchen. He started to edge backwards into one of the stools, when the gladiator scowled at him. “You will not be in this kitchen until you have washed. Much to Trystan’s dismay, you’ll have to settle for the spare bathroom. There is acceptable clothing for you in the dresser of the attached bedroom.”

  Rhys nodded excitedly. “Oh, that’s fantastic— I —”

  Mathias pointed down the hallway with a firm gesture and urged Rhys away.

  “Don’
t you dare set even a finger on that bedding!” Xander wrinkled his handsome face in disgust, thinking about that filth in his clean bedroom. “Or anywhere else for that matter.”

  I snickered. “Poor Xan.”

  He rolled his eyes. “I know, I know. I’m being compulsive again.”

  I shrugged. “I for one welcome it; I can always count on there being toilet paper where I need it,” I said with a grin, reaching out and brushing my fingers across his chin with affection.

  He beamed widely in reply.

  “You’re taking this well,” Bash grumbled, unceremoniously tossing his weapon down into the kitchen floor with a clatter and slumped into one of the chairs.

  “Taking what well?” I asked, setting down the stunner on the counter, and sitting in the chair across from him.

  Bash just shrugged. “In all my searching, nothing ever came up on Merlin. Ever! A million movie and literary references, maybe a few passages from a spellbook. Otherwise, I found nothing! We could have just let a Collector in here!”

  “Explain to me how he can speak Avalonian, then?” I contested.

  “Morgaine in glamour?” Xander suggested.

  I frowned. “Yeah…I suppose.” I exhaled, resting my elbows on the counter’s surface, and cradled my head in my hands. “It’s just…whatever dreams I had, or visions, whatever the fuck they were—were so vivid. It was like standing there, next to Igraine. I could touch her, I could smell the air…”

  Bash gave a cynical smile. “You don’t have to tell me how real dreams are.”

  I buried my face in my palms, groaning. “I know. I’m probably being an idiot.”

  “No, Avie,” Xander said softly, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder. “It’s not idiotic to follow one’s instinct.”

  Bash breathed out loudly. “No, it’s not. But I’d like to know a bit more about these visions.”