She looked hysterical as she continued backing up into the brush.
I began running towards her, ready to scoop her up and get her clear of whoever had thrown the dagger. “Alice! We need to get out of—”
A portal appeared behind her, and a gauntleted hand grabbed her by her ponytail.
She was shrieking and clawing, swinging and screaming against the armored hand, dropping the paper with the crude sun symbol from her pocket in the process. I heard a very familiar laughter from within the portal. I dove for her, shouting, but the attacker yanked her backwards.
“MAMAAAAAA!” She screamed from the bottom of her soul.
And the portal winked out right before my eyes, her desperate plea shredding my heart to golden ribbons, just like those tied into Gunnar’s fur. I cursed and swore just as Talon and Gunnar yowled and howled.
“MORDRED!” I roared, my ears throbbing as I panted, swatting at the ground and trying desperately to find the invisible object Alice had been holding, wondering if she had dropped it like she had the drawing. I shoved the drawing into my pocket, promising myself I would give it back to Alice when I ripped Mordred’s scalp off. Taking a little girl? There was a special place in Hell for people like that.
And since I was the Guide to Hell, I knew just how to get there.
I didn’t find the invisible book anywhere and cursed. Alice must have still been holding it when she’d been abducted. One thing I knew for certain—Mordred was behind it. I would recognize that laugh anywhere. Now he had the invisible Good Book of Catalyst-ism that was supposed to help me understand my curse.
Alvara had claimed someone had been in her home, rummaging through her things, and Mordred had just kidnapped Alice.
Had…he wanted the book? Or just to piss in my cereal?
Alvara choked, and I gasped to realize she was still alive. I scrambled over to her, lifting up her head and trying to ease her pain. I shook my head angrily. “Why, Alvara? Why?”
She coughed, smiling even though she was in agonizing pain from the long dagger in her chest. “Save…Alice.” And then she lifted a weak finger to point behind us. I heard a sound, but Gunnar and Talon were already on top of it, snarling and growling. Alvara let out a tired sigh, and then died, dropping her hand.
I snarled as I spun to face the new threat along with my two best friends.
I blinked incredulously, wondering if I had been bumped on the head. Because I was staring at what appeared to be my first Knight of the Round Table.
And I was very glad Alice wasn’t standing beside me as I formed a ball of molten flame over my palm. Because this next part really would have ruined her concept of happily ever after.
I hurled it as hard as I could at the Black Knight’s pretty little breastplate.
Chapter 30
I had made sure not to accidentally release my tentative grip on my Fae magic as I tapped into Old Faithful—my wizard’s magic. I was a veritable beast when I actually let myself cut loose with my wizard’s gift. I knew how to use it as easily as breathing. Simply put, it was solid, dependable, and rarely let me down—
My fire splashed over the Black Knight like a cool summer breeze. He didn’t even seem to acknowledge it. The droplets of fire struck his armor and any exposed flesh like water on a hot griddle, rolling off instantly.
“Umm…he’s warded against wizard’s magic, guys,” I said lamely. “In case you missed that.”
Gunnar extended his claws, snarling at the steadily approaching Black Knight who had seemed to step out of thin air ten paces away. He was a big son of a bitch, and his armor only made him more imposing. “Why did he attack us? Didn’t you and Pan save him? Or is this a different one?”
“How the hell should I know? I never actually met him. He ran away from the cave before we got there, remember? Unless Mordred found his brothers and freed them, this has to be him.”
“Hand over the book or the child will die,” he said in a calm, low voice, walking our way.
Had…Alice lied to him? Pretended not to have it and using its invisible bag to her advantage? Or was it really lying in the brush somewhere and I had missed it?
“Return the child and we will only stuff one of your own gauntlets up your ass,” Gunnar snarled, snapping his teeth loudly.
Talon coughed his agreement, a throaty yowl bubbling up from his lips as he crouched, ears tucked back, and eyes narrowed. “Fuck this guy.”
The Black Knight didn’t respond, and he didn’t slow down, his heavy boots thumping into the earth and leaving tendrils of smoke with each step—grass and flowers beneath his iron boots withered.
Iron. Holy shit. I hadn’t considered that. Iron was poison to Fae, and this motherfucker was stomping around without concern—an armored virus, a cancer.
The Knight finally halted a few paces away from us and lifted his Medieval visor, reminding me of a modern-day policeman lifting his aviator sunglasses at a traffic stop. He had iron gray eyes and aged skin, but that was all I could make out. Those eyes were resolute and steadfast. “None shall stand between me and my duty to King Mordred.”
Wait, what?
Gunnar didn’t bother with questions.
He closed the distance and clawed the Black Knight across the chest. An explosion of white sparks marked the contact between Gunnar’s quartz-like claws and the iron armor, shredding it to—
But the armor did not shred. And it did not scratch. The Knight didn’t even stumble at the physical force of the blow. Though it did knock his visor closed with a metallic clang.
I had seen Gunnar knock people’s heads off with a casual backhanded slap.
I stared at the strange wet symbol that looked to have been recently painted on the Knight’s chest. It was one of the same runes I had seen on the Round Table when I had spoken each Knight’s name, but it had been inverted, and I couldn’t immediately recall which Knight it had belonged to.
The Knight glanced down at his chest curiously.
I caught a faint fluttering motion from the corner of my eye and saw one of the golden ribbons on Gunnar’s neck come loose, twirling up into the air. The Knight absently brushed at his chest, and I caught a long, golden hair stuck between the plates of his knuckle. A strand of Alice’s hair. Time seemed to slow in my mind.
This son-of-a-bitch Knight was helping Mordred—kidnapping Alice for him—and he had murdered Alvara, Alice’s mother.
Alice had met her Knight…
And was now an orphan.
This was supposed to be one of the good guys. That inverted rune had changed him. I could almost see distorted waves of power emanating from it, but I couldn’t quite focus on them.
I was looking, not seeing, as Alice had tried to teach me. You’re trying too hard…
If I could just relax and—
“For Avalon,” the Black Knight growled, snapping me out of my daze. And then he stabbed Gunnar through the heart before Gunnar had even fully recoiled from his attack. The blow lifted the seven-foot-tall werewolf off his feet a few inches.
My blood froze to ice in disbelief. Gunnar dropped to the ground as the Knight yanked his sword back. My best friend’s white fur was covered in blood, and he stared up at me with one eye, looking desperate and stunned. “Name my pups—” but he cut off with a violent, bloody cough, and his head flopped to the side, lifelessly.
I heard a high-pitched keening sound in my ears, and my vision began to tunnel, framing Gunnar’s lifeless, bloody body in vibrant detail. A blue leaf fluttered onto his wound, covering it from view. I waited for him to swat it away…
But he didn’t. He would never swat anything ever again. Would never meet his pups. Wouldn’t get to name them…
I began panting, unable to turn away as I stared at my dead friend. My brain quite literally couldn’t process anything as I stared at a strand of his bloody saliva settling on one of Alice’s golden ribbons.
Something clicked inside of me…
But it wasn’t enough to save Gunnar. Wa
sn’t even enough to let me touch my Fae magic.
My world flashed white, and I had no conscious control of what I did next. Every single drop of wizard’s magic I could grasp suddenly ripped out of me in one concussive blast of lava that splashed the Knight like a tidal wave. I collapsed to my knees, entirely spent, struggling to breathe or even hold myself up as my arms violently shook in protest.
I managed to see the result of my outburst splash over the Black Knight. Like earlier, it had no effect, simply bouncing off of him. He turned to look at me with his cold iron helmet, but all I saw were shadows behind those narrow slits where his eyes should have been.
I couldn’t even look my best friend’s killer in the eyes.
Something about his posture told me he did not find joy in the task ahead, but more like a man committed to do a job he had agreed to do.
The ground around him hissed and smoked, covered in my lava, and I desperately hoped that at least the heat would cook him alive inside his iron suit. He flicked a bit off of his pauldrons, grunting in annoyance.
I tried desperately to call upon my Fae magic, but I couldn’t. In fact, I was surprised to learn that I had managed to maintain my grip on it at all. Thanks to whatever Alice had done on our walk, and the several clicking sensations I had felt, my grip was now stronger, requiring less focus to maintain. But it was still useless.
Despite being unable to do anything with the Fae Magic, I could at least sense it. The air veritably hummed with raw power, begging to be used, but it was all smoke and lights to me—ephemeral. Being able to see it more clearly and not use it only made everything worse. So close, yet so far away…
It felt like Wylde was screaming something at me, but I couldn’t hear anything through the high-pitched buzzing still filling my ears. And I almost vomited when I realized my hand rested in a puddle of Gunnar’s blood.
Name the pups…his blank stare taunted me. Name them what? How was I supposed to go on without my best friend?
Talon startled me by diving in front of me, stabbing his spear straight at the Knight’s face, managing to knock the Knight back.
I shook my head, realizing that it would do no one any good if I just gave up right now. Too many people needed me—Alice, Alex, Gunnar’s pups…and dozens more.
I was about to attempt climbing to my feet when Talon fell on top of me, knocking me back down. A sudden burst of adrenaline made me scramble, wanting to help him back up so we could fight or flee, but I only succeeded in rolling him onto his back.
The Knight’s sword had gored directly through his heart before Talon had knocked him back.
“Tal…” I whispered his childhood nickname, shaking him desperately. “I’ll get you some Fae catnip for Yulemas. I promise!” I rasped, hardly able to see through my tears.
My jostling of him knocked loose a single Fae catnip seed from his belt—a seed he must have smuggled from the pod he had been getting into during our walk.
I began shaking him harder, growing angry. “You can’t just die like this, Tal! I’ll let you open the presents early! Just…please don’t die, Tal…You’re my last real friend…”
But Tal’s eyes were already glazing over, denying me the chance to hear his last words. The buzzing sound in my ears instantly intensified, modifying into a scream of words repeated over and over again.
Ohmygodohmygodohmygod…
Followed by an echoing, creaking, rushing sound. Like ocean waves in a sea cavern. As I stared into Talon’s glazed eyes, memories began hammering me like a drum. The roaring in the caves of my ears grew louder—loud enough for my vision to waver—and I realized it didn’t sound like waves.
It sounded like a wild, savage, primitive man mourning his two brothers—the only family he had left.
And more visions began to flicker across my mind. Snapshots of childhood, moving as rapidly as leaves in a windstorm, zipping back and forth across my mind, to the song of a man screaming from the very depths of his soul.
Something was happening…
But the sound and sensations abruptly ceased as I saw the Black Knight climb to his feet, seeming none the worse for wear.
I had been so close! What had that been?
The Black Knight looked at me warily, as if having sensed me doing something, and then he relaxed, shaking off his gauntlets and wiping his sword on a black cloth tied at his waist. Then he began walking towards me.
I tried scooting backwards, thinking frantically, but bumped into Gunnar’s body and recoiled in horror. Like with the fight against Thor, I had no physical strength left to try using my Hammer—not that it would have done me any good—and I didn’t dare risk using my Horseman’s Mask when it was already broken. I couldn’t even climb to my feet, I was so shaken. I had almost felt something with my Fae Magic, but it had sputtered out upon seeing the Knight stand back up.
At the understanding that this man was practically invincible to our attacks.
The knight dipped his head at Talon’s dead body. “Well met, warrior.” Then he looked down at me, his black armor glinting against the overcast sky. A fluttering piece of paper caught his eyes and he stomped on it by reflex. He glanced down and grunted. “You have my sketch from the cave,” he said, turning back to look at me.
I yanked it out from under his boot, not having realized I’d dropped it. The Knight made no move to stop me.
“No matter. You will see the real Stonehenge soon enough, because King Mordred requests your presence there.” I stared up at him, gripping the paper in my fingers. He had drawn a crude depiction of Stonehenge in Pan’s cave? I had thought it was a sun.
“Mordred claims you have two items that belong to him. I will take you to retrieve them from wherever you have hidden them.” He was talking about Excalibur and the Round Table. “Come peacefully, or there will be trouble.”
Peacefully. I had once known the meaning of that word. But it was long forgotten, now.
“Is that why you took the child?” I demanded.
He didn’t answer for a few moments, as if debating how much to share. “Mordred did not want you to obtain a book. He didn’t believe I could capture or defeat you, so I was sent to destroy the book. When I killed the woman, I saw the child dive for the book, so I took her. But she did not have it either, so I returned.” He continued staring down at me. “Now, she is leverage for your cooperation.”
“I would rather die,” I whispered, staring over at Talon and Gunnar, knowing I had nothing left up my sleeve. Even if I could have used my Hammer, I had no faith in its ability to harm him. Mordred had juiced him up somehow. Turned a Good Knight into a Knightmare.
He wasn’t even breathing heavily.
“Then the little girl shall die,” the Black Knight said in a toneless voice. “And you will still be taken to Stonehenge.”
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I whispered. “People tell stories about King Arthur’s Knights! They call you heroes!”
The Knight lowered his sword, looking mildly ashamed for the first time. “Arthur is dead, and Mordred is the last of the Pendragon bloodline. I have no say in the matter. I fled a cave in search of my brothers, and Mordred found me. Gave me a new purpose—an oath sworn by blood.”
I looked sharply at the inverted rune on his armor, my mind slowly whirring to life. Blood oath. Did he mean a Blood Debt? Where the Knight had to obey? It sure sounded like it.
It was also confirmation that this was the Knight I had inadvertently saved.
That Pan had nursed back to health.
Only so he could come back and kill my two best friends.
“It is time,” The Black Knight said, sheathing his sword and holding out his large, gauntleted fist. “You have no more protectors, and the child’s life depends on your cooperation.”
A sudden bolt of lightning struck down from the overcast sky, even though the white clouds held no rain. The unseen blast of lightning shattered a tree fifty feet away, and we both turned to see hundreds of blue leaves drifting t
o the ground. Nothing else moved, and the woods grew as silent as a tomb.
I slowly looked back at the Black Knight—who had settled his gauntleted hand back on the hilt of his sword—still glaring at the source of the explosion. He finally turned back to me to find me smiling at him.
“You forgot about my unicorn,” I said with a slow, malevolent smile.
Chapter 31
The Black Knight suddenly reached out to grab me with his gauntleted fist, finished with asking nicely, I guessed. A Gateway erupted beside us, and a demon of a man struck the Knight in a flying tackle, wrapping his arms around the Knight’s armored waist.
Alex! Godsdamned Alex! Like a Knight in shining…well, Under Armour.
Because he wore a spandex Under Armour muscle shirt—the fabulous edition.
And he was liberally coated with rainbow spatter. Like, everywhere. Knowing that it was actually rainbow blood and guts made it turn from humorous to nauseating. He was covered in gore from killing rainbows around the world. That was a lot of pissed-off leprechauns and broken-hearted children.
The Knight grunted in annoyance but didn’t appear fazed by the blow.
However, despite appearances, Alex hadn’t actually been trying to tackle him. In fact, he had already rotated to hug him from behind. Unfortunately, the Knight was slow on the uptake as he swung his gloved fists down to where Alex’s head had just been pressed against his abdomen.
Ultimately, I watched as the Black Knight double hammer-fisted himself in the nuts with his Avalonian Gauntlets of Injustice. He made a very satisfying keening whine as his knees buckled.
Like he was trying out for the WWE, Alex arched his back and straightened his legs in an improvised belly-to-back suplex move, hoisting the Knight up off his feet and then backwards towards the ground in an attempt to break his neck. The Knight instinctively flung up his hands to protect his head and break his fall, but…
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