by Sarah Kleck
“Yes?”
Enid stuck her head into the room. “Dinner.”
“They’re not back yet?”
She shook her head.
“Okay. I’m coming.”
I looked around the dining room and wondered if half the rain forest had been cut down to build this house. Polished mahogany was everywhere: floor, walls, tables, chairs—everywhere. Uniformed domestics—all of pension age—fussed back and forth between the kitchen and dining room. They poured wine into crystal glasses, arranged chairs, and finally served dinner under silver covers, which the domestics lifted in a kind of choreography. I lost my appetite when I saw liver with onions and something that looked already half-digested. I stared at the polished cutlery.
“Something wrong?” Judith asked, making it sound like a challenge.
Rage boiled inside me. I was walking a fine line between letting her talk and jumping across the table for her throat because of the quip she’d made about the murder of my parents and sister. She was not at fault for my family’s death. Enid had assured me Karen was solely responsible. No, Judith was an old woman mourning the past. I decided it would be best if I didn’t bother.
“No, everything’s fine. Liver just isn’t one of my favorites.”
“I’d be delighted to make you an omelet, miss,” a rotund maid offered. “I’ll have it done in no time.”
Judith gave the maid a devastating look.
“Please, don’t trouble yourself on my behalf.”
“Oh nonsense,” the maid said. “You must eat. You’re much too thin.” She disappeared into the kitchen and returned in ten minutes with the best omelet I’d ever had. The trifle served as dessert was also rather good—quite in contrast to the conversation at the table, which was limited to “Please pass the salt,” or, directed at the staff, “Thank you, you may clear the table now.” Oh yes, and, of course, “Good night, ladies,” when Judith left the room and declared the evening over. I rolled my eyes and looked at my phone.
“Anything new?” Enid asked.
I shook my head. “I’m starting to worry.”
“I’m sure everything’s fine.” But even she sounded uncertain and gazed into space. “Jessie’s about to go to bed. I want to Skype her and say good night. Will you manage?”
I nodded. “I’ll read a little more in Ruth’s Nimue book. Say hello to the tyke for me, okay?”
“Will do.”
A gentle kiss brushed my lips. I started up.
“Keep sleeping,” Jared said.
“Jared! Is everything okay? What time is it?”
“Two thirty. Sorry.” He took off his jeans and got in bed.
“Did you find her?”
“No. Keep sleeping. We’ll talk about it in the morning.”
“Okay.”
Jared was gone when I woke again. I sat up and rubbed my eyes. A note in Jared’s handwriting lay on the nightstand.
There’s a new lead.
A surveillance camera caught Morgana at the airport.
Don’t wait for me.
I love you!
Great, I thought. Another day in the delightful company of Miss Daisy. Worse still, I found out at breakfast that Enid had left for Oxford to “handle a few matters.” Whatever that meant.
I was bored stiff all day. I went through Ruth’s book without discovering any new insights. There was no TV or DVD player. Not even a radio.
“Does the house have a library?” I asked one of the kitchen staff during lunch, which I ate alone in the kitchen. The icy silence at breakfast had not called for a sequel.
“Certainly,” she answered. “However, it’s attached to Mrs. McHallern’s private quarters. Visitors aren’t permitted access.”
“Private quarters?” I repeated in disbelief. Had I traveled back to the nineteenth century?
The maid nodded, then went back to dusting.
“Oh. So I’m supposed to eat all day and loaf about?”
“I’m sorry, miss. Please discuss it with Mrs. McHallern.”
I suppressed another comment. It wasn’t the maid’s fault, but I felt so frustrated. Jared was hunting for Morgana while I sat here killing time and hoping he’d return safe and sound. All that in the company of an old woman who harbored an undisguised dislike for me. To top it all off, it was the most beautiful early summer weather, but I was strictly forbidden from going outside. It was driving me mad!
Shortly before supper, I was so bored I dared to enter Judith’s private quarters and sneak into the library. It wasn’t what I’d hoped for, but all in all it was well stocked. All the classics were there, from Shakespeare, Tolstoy, and Jules Verne to Hemingway and Jane Austen. The whole canon. But that wasn’t what I was looking for. I browsed a little, read bits from two or three books, then went back to my room in the hope that Jared would return.
CHAPTER 19
London by day and London by night are two completely different places. The contrast couldn’t be starker. When the sun sets over the city and darkness takes hold of the streets, shadow-dwellers crawl out from their holes. Where crowds bustle during the day, dubious characters lurk in dark corners at night—making it easy for Morgana to find new recruits for her army of the damned. As far as we knew, this was her method: Every night she went out, waited for a rotten person to kill another, and then promised the wretch safety from damnation in exchange for his soul if he pledged servitude to her for the remainder of his miserable existence. She’d been caught twice on surveillance cameras while transforming a dying man into a damnatus. Twice. Two nights in a row. But we hadn’t gotten any further.
Only a few minutes passed between the recording at Heathrow Airport and our arrival. We searched the entire area but found nothing. How did she manage to disappear so quickly? I didn’t get it. From what we knew, only light magic gave a being the ability to appear and disappear at will. This magic was no longer available to Morgana; Ruth had gotten it back. Yet this was like catching a ghost.
Where are you hiding, witch?
The hunt drove me to the edge of madness. I couldn’t think of anything else. Couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat. Couldn’t even think clearly. I had to find her at any cost. Only then would Evelyn be safe.
It was my fault she was in danger. A part of me wished we’d never met. She’d have been safe in Fleetwood. She had nothing to fear protected by Nimue’s amulet. But the other part, my egotistical self, would have done it all over again. Colin said she had changed me, opened my heart. Made me a better person. I smiled. Well, that was true. I wanted to be a better person for her sake. I loved her more than I would have thought possible.
Dozens of girls had shared my bed. A few hours of warmth, a few hours of affection. But by morning I couldn’t wait to be rid of them. The unavoidable “why didn’t you call” looks I would have to deal with for weeks after only irritated me. Madison had been the worst of all. I wasn’t able to simply avoid her as I had the others. She was a member of the Order. We crossed paths almost daily. Let alone Claire, who already imagined me as her son-in-law. Unbearable.
Pretty much sheltered from the real world by Karen, I drifted along. Went from one fling to another, trying to feel something—even if just for a moment. But I was never happy. Something was always missing. Something basic. For a long time, I thought it had something to do with the death of my family. Grieving did contribute its share. But I only knew what I was looking for when I saw Evelyn: It was her. I’d been searching for her my entire life without knowing it. And I finally found her. Or rather, she found me. Evelyn shot into my life like a comet and changed everything.
I didn’t know what love was until I met her. She was the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen—no contest. Even if I had wanted to, I wouldn’t have been able to get away from her. She cast her spell on me and wouldn’t let go. When I closed my eyes, I saw her. In Avalon—how she’d opposed Morgana. Strong and beautiful like a queen, even a goddess. As long as I lived, I’d never forget that sight. She was unbelievable. H
ow fast she’d learned to control her magic. She did in a few hours what took me years. It was her destiny. I’d see to it that she’d return. Back to the place of her destiny. Back to Avalon.
Morgana would die. There was no other way. I had to kill her. For my family. For me. For Evelyn. But time wasn’t on our side. Morgana was becoming stronger every day.
“Jared, where to now?” Colin asked. He wore a ridiculously long black coat, making him look as if he’d just been sprung from the Matrix. But it was the only piece of clothing that allowed him to keep Excalibur on him without frightening people into calling the police because they thought the Highlander had descended from the Far North to pass judgment on them.
“Left, Neo.”
Colin grinned, pulled dark sunglasses from his pocket, slipped them on, and cried out: “I am The One!”
“Will you two stop that nonsense?” Irvin scolded us as if we were twelve-year-olds.
“Calm down, old man,” Colin said, patting him on the shoulder.
I laughed. “Have you been carrying those around all day just for this?”
“Worth it, wasn’t it?” Colin put the glasses back in his pocket. “Well, you heard Harry Potter. To the left.”
We turned onto a broader street. The booming bass from a club reverberated over the cobblestones. A queue, corralled by a velvet rope, had formed under the glowing neon letters “B4.” The queue extended around the block. I stopped.
“Do you want to go in?” Colin asked.
“I sense damnatus energy,” I answered. “You three stay here. They’ll never let all five of us in.”
Irvin, Gareth, and Ian stayed back, a little confused. Colin followed me. I walked past the queue despite loud protests and pressed two hundred quid into the hand of the broad-shouldered bouncer. He nodded, unhitched the rope, and waved us through.
The club was fairly full, but we could still move from one end to the other without much of a problem. I was gradually getting better at focusing on the energy of one or a few individuals in a crowd.
It didn’t take long to find the damnati. There were two of them, freshly transformed. A few pale pink scars on their faces betrayed what they’d become. By tomorrow or the day after, they wouldn’t be able to move freely in public. Their bodies would soon begin to rot. Like all damnati, they would putrefy alive. That was the price of their unholy existence. But no one seemed to have told these two, as they were in a festive mood, relaxing against the table on which a waitress was placing a bottle of twenty-year-old single malt along with two glasses. They laughed coarsely and toasted each other. One wore a tailored suit. He must have been a banker or a well-paid attorney in his former life. The other, more a creative type, wore torn jeans and a designer shirt. Both were lean and muscular. Studio muscles—no combat experience. I saw that at a glance. I had no idea what Morgana had caught them doing or who’d killed them, but both were the “I’ll take what I want” type.
“Those two?” Colin asked when he noticed I was sizing them up.
I nodded.
Colin took a step toward them. I held him back.
“Too many people. We’ll lure them out.”
Damnati are stronger than humans, and freshly transformed ones yearn to try out their new powers. Preferably on someone they couldn’t have beaten when they were still people. Colin and I would fill that role. We just had to draw their attention. Colin grinned. This was just his style.
“Ten quid says they’ll follow me out the back entrance.”
“Deal!”
Colin winked, turned, and staggered through the club as if he was totally drunk—straight at the damnati. When he’d nearly gotten there, he started to stumble, banged into their table, and knocked it over.
“Shoooorreey,” Colin slurred. He leaned against the damnatus in the suit and wiped his wet hand on the guy’s tailored shirt.
“That was a hundred-and-twenty-quid whiskey, asshole!” yelled the banker, who pushed Colin.
“Oh yeah?” Colin licked his fingers. “Itsh reeeally gooood.”
“And this is an Armani shirt, ya tosser!”
That was my cue.
“Ish dere a probleeeem?” I asked, putting my arm over the shoulders of the creative-looking one.
“Fuck off!”
“No haaarm done,” I said, and patted Colin on the shoulder. “Let’s leave them to it, dude.”
Colin followed me, staggering, across the dance floor. I took a furtive glance over my shoulder to be sure they were watching us, and then we left through the back entrance. Suit Guy looked at Creative Guy and nodded in our direction. Sure enough, they followed us.
There was only a single light high over the door out back. Otherwise, the alley was completely dark.
“Not so fast,” Banker Guy said when he stepped outside, closely followed by his buddy. “You owe me a hundred and twenty for the whiskey and two hundred and thirty for the shirt.”
“You won’t need a shirt where you’re going,” I said in a calm voice.
They broke out in laughter.
“You have no idea the trouble you’re in, kid,” the banker bragged.
Colin opened his coat, pulled out the mighty sword, and jammed it into the ground; it split the concrete.
The damnati exchanged puzzled glances as they realized something was up.
“Where is she?” I asked without any show of emotion.
“Who?” the suit asked cluelessly. He didn’t take his eyes off Colin, who, with his coat and sword, looked like he’d come to usher in doomsday.
“Morgana. She who made you what you are.”
Their eyes widened with fright.
I raised an eyebrow and spoke slowly. “I’m only going to ask once. If I don’t get an answer, my friend is going to cut you in half.”
Colin pulled Excalibur from the concrete.
“Where is Morgana?”
“If you think you can frighten us with a sword, you’re off your rocker, kid. Where did you get that? Pinch it from a medieval fair?” Creative Guy said, approaching us casually.
Colin lifted Excalibur, swung, and severed Creative Guy’s head. It rolled across the pavement, eventually coming to a stop several yards away.
Colin breathed in deeply. “The only thing bothersome about killing damnati,” he said, walking over to the headless corpse and wiping his blade on its shirt, “is having to get rid of their stinking cadavers. You’d imagine they’d turn to dust, burst into flames, or do something interesting, but no, someone has to clean up the mess.”
Banker Guy froze with fear.
“Answer.”
“I—I—I have no idea where she is! I swear!”
“When did she transform you?”
“Last night. I—”
“How is she going to contact you?”
“I—I don’t know. Please!”
“Is there a meeting place?”
“No. She said she’d find us. We’re supposed to be ready when the time comes.”
He was telling the truth. I felt it in his energy.
Banker Guy crumpled and began to cry. “I don’t know anything more. Please! I swear!”
At moments like this, when a damnatus was kneeling before me like a little pile of misery, pleading for his life or, rather, for what was left of it, I always asked one question. To remind both of us what a damnatus really is.
“How did you die?”
He looked at me, surprised. “What?”
I raised my eyebrows and stared at him.
“I . . . I was . . . poisoned.”
“By whom?”
“A woman.”
“Why?”
He said nothing, just lowered his head. I had my answer.
“You’re a rapist, aren’t you?”
He only whimpered. But I didn’t sense a trace of regret in his energy. The only person he felt sorry for was himself. Hatred and contempt flared up inside me. That’s why I’d asked the question—to extinguish even the slightest hint of pity.
These creatures deserved no compassion. They were monsters.
“Kill him,” I said, and Colin’s sword swooped down.
I pulled out my phone and called Gareth. “Two dead damnati at the back of the club.”
CHAPTER 20
The rattle of a belt buckle woke me up.
“Jared?”
“Hey, babe.” He crawled under the covers and put his arm around me.
“Did you get her?”
Jared sighed. “No.” He kissed me on the cheek. “I’ll tell you about it in the morning.”
“Okay,” I mumbled, placing my hand on his chest. “Nice that you’re finally here.”
“Go back to sleep, honey.” He kissed my forehead and soon fell asleep.
When I opened my eyes the next morning and found myself alone again, I was irritated. He’d disappeared two nights in a row. What was Jared thinking, leaving me alone all day with that old hag? I angrily threw the covers aside and leapt to my feet. This just couldn’t go on. I decided to call him.
“Babe?” he answered on the second ring.
“Where are you?”
“Speakers’ Corner.” I heard a loud male voice in the background droning on about the doom of modern civilization.
“Jared, you’ve barely slept the past two nights. How long do you think you’ll last?”
“I have to find her, Evelyn.” His tone was appeasing but had a certain bite.
“I know, but I really can’t sit around here any longer without doing something. Do you understand?”
“I can’t take you with me, you know that. It’s too dangerous.”
“Jared!” That sounded like Gareth.
“I have to go. We’ll talk later.”
“Jared—” I said, but he’d already hung up. I clenched my teeth, wanting to hurl my phone against the wall. My anger had not yet dissipated by the time I got dressed. I tromped down the stairs.
“Good morning, Miss Lakewood.”
Startled, I stopped on the landing. “Good morning, Mr. Parker,” I said, wondering what business the detective had here.