“You can let me know.”
The cryptic response succeeded in rattling Briana far more than the Gauntlet had. Her lips parted, but the only question she had left had nothing to do with Gwen or Arthur and everything to do with an ongoing power struggle that seemed horribly unbalanced to her.
“Why does Rhiannon allow you to live?” If the goddess could enslave Arthur’s knights and could lock an entire shape-shifting race in stone, how could she not manage to retaliate against Morgana?
The sorceress looked smug. “Because I am the last tie she has to Arthur.”
Something clicked in Briana’s head.
Rhiannon. Every one of the immortals competing had a connection to the goddess.
Lucan was Rhiannon’s unwilling mercenary while Nessa was faithful and devoted. Kel was at the top of the goddess’s most wanted list, and Elena’s house was known for their loyalty. The enchantress had already mentioned the goddess had expressed interests in her magic, and Vaughn had talked about Rhiannon’s support for the rebellion against Morgana.
Briana’s family had given Rhiannon not one but two of the lost daggers, leaving only Bran. She and the Fae had talked little throughout the competition, so it was possible Briana just didn’t know what connected him to Rhiannon, if anything did.
Could he have been the one who’d manipulated Lucan into attacking her or used the enchantress to slow her down near the dungeon? He certainly hadn’t offered any explanations for how he’d controlled the vines in the catacombs.
But why her? What threat did she pose that he would want to remove her from the games?
Morgana gave her a considering look. “Dress warm,” the sorceress quipped, heading for the door. “We’re taking a little trip.”
“What do you mean she’s not in there?” Tristan jumped to his feet, crossing the small clearing Sorcha just entered. Cian and Emma continued to keep watch, knowing the edge of the forest offered them little protection so close to Camelot. “You said—”
The ex-huntress held up her hands. “Briana was here. An old acquaintance inside—not that kind of acquaintance,” she interrupted to glare at her scowling mate. “Told me they left earlier today.”
Tristan’s brows shot up. “They?” Was the wraith still with her?
“Briana and Morgana.”
“No.” Cale shook his head. The oldest of the Callaghan siblings wasn’t nearly so calm and quiet when he cursed under his breath. “How in the fuck did that happen?”
Sorcha blew out a breath. “Briana is competing in the Gauntlet.”
Christ. Tristan stalked away, then spun back around. He’d thought Sorcha was off her huntress rocker when she’d suggested that Morgana might be the only other immortal in the loop about the Gauntlet. There wasn’t much the sorceress didn’t know about what happened in Avalon.
And if Lucan had anything to do with Briana being dragged into the Gauntlet, there wasn’t going to be a piece of the wraith left when Tristan finished tearing him apart.
“And she’s still alive?” Cale clarified, the relief evident in his voice. “So what was she doing here?”
And why the hell hadn’t she tried to get hold of any of them before now? Tristan wanted to know. He knew he’d been pushing her too hard and she’d probably guessed his reaction to Lucan being her mate, but he couldn’t imagine her avoiding all three of them if she was in trouble.
“It was part of the competition,” Sorcha explained. “And apparently something went wrong.”
Things had been going wrong since the wraith had come along—
“He’s her mate.” Kennedy touched his arm, always knowing what he was thinking.
“That doesn’t mean he’s not responsible.”
She shook her head. “That’s like holding you responsible for me being marked for assassination.”
He growled, but didn’t argue. “Lucan’s a bad influence.”
“Spoken like an overprotective brother,” Kennedy murmured. “And you’re going to have plenty of time for that.”
God he hoped so. His last conversation with Briana hadn’t gone well and he needed her to know that he’d always have her back, even if she’d fallen for a wraith.
Tristan turned his face into his mate’s hair, letting her scent calm both man and cat. Long seconds later, he glanced at Sorcha. “So what now?”
The former huntress let out a breath. “Now we wait.”
“Welcome to your final challenge.”
Get the fuck on with it, Lucan thought. He didn’t shiver against the glacial breeze that shrieked in warning where they stood halfway up the side of a dormant volcano. Didn’t worry about what lay inside the mountain.
He thought only of winning. He would not fail at this, wouldn’t let Briana down the way he had countless times before.
He didn’t pay much attention to the others, but could sense their varying degrees of determination much the way he could sense an immortal’s fear. It was stronger with some—Vaughn, Kel, Elena—than the others.
Nessa was the wild card. She hadn’t won any challenges but had tried talking him out of even considering the idea of trading Excalibur for Briana—if he won—numerous times since the end of their last challenge two days ago.
Two days without Briana.
He’d gone lifetimes without her by his side, but every minute apart now was sucking another piece of him back down into darkness. He should have been starving by now, but even the little blood he’d taken from Briana continued to sustain him, strengthen him. Rarely crossing paths with others like him, there was no one to offer any explanations for why that was.
Because she’s ours.
Lucan was really starting to hate how the wraith, always content to deal in death and suffering, now had an answer for everything.
“Inside you will find the Onyx Beast. Subdue him and bring him to the altar where these will be waiting for you.” Aren held up the chains the Lady of the Lake had given Briana.
Lucan couldn’t shake the suspicion that something was off about the whole damn competition. Each round seemed to involve setting up the next one. The stones in Tintagel, according to Briana, had been used to gain entrance to the Catacombs. The scroll for that challenge served as a map for the next. The chains would be used to restrain the beast, though he couldn’t figure out how Treasach’s Moon fit yet.
“When the chains are in place,” Aren continued, “the final competition will end and the winner proclaimed.”
The group of immortals said nothing.
Maeve’s grin slipped. “There will be no interference from either of us should actions be taken to eliminate another competitor.”
So all bets were off then.
Lucan didn’t mind in the least. For centuries he’d allowed himself to be haunted by what he was capable of, wraith or no wraith, and now he embraced it. How ironic that to save Briana he would need to become the worst version of himself.
“Is that it?” He cut his gaze to Maeve, impatient to finish this.
The goddess narrowed her eyes, then nodded to Aren. Next to him, Treasach’s Moon appeared, her eyes blindfolded and her hands restrained behind her back.
“We’ve upheld our end of the bargain.” Maeve said to no one in particular.
The wraith shook violently deep inside him, the Korrigan’s proximity rousing every murderous instinct his darker half possessed.
“Don’t be stupid,” Kel hissed against Lucan’s ear.
The dragon couldn’t be talking about grabbing the Korrigan by the throat. That was the smartest decision Lucan could make from where he was standing.
The air stirred, another Korrigan joining them from nowhere. Menace slithered off the older male who ignored everyone but the gods and the bound female with them.
Treasach’s Moon started to cry. In fear or relief, he wondered briefly. Not that he cared. She wouldn’t even be alive if the wraith had had his way.
The older Korrigan waved a hand behind them. “You may enter.”
> So the Moon was their way inside. Was it Korrigan territory? He hadn’t heard of Korrigans marking territory so far from Avalon. Lucan could tell by the expression on Kel’s face that the dragon was equally surprised.
“Come.” The Korrigan took the female’s hand, and the pair disappeared, making Lucan wonder how their magic could remain so strong so far from their land.
“You may begin.” Maeve nodded at them, and between one second and the next, Lucan found himself within the dormant volcano.
The narrow trail in front of him wound deeper into the mountain. To the right, the ground fell away at a steep angle, a drop that would rip an immortal to shreds with the sharp rocks jutting from the ledge before dumping them onto the solidified lava hundreds of feet down.
Lucan welcomed the wraith rising close to the surface as he headed downward. Occasionally he heard one of the others, but he still hadn’t crossed paths with any of them by the time he reached the first opening that branched off from the inner volcano.
The occasional torch held complete darkness at bay, casting shadows and highlighting the occasional illegible scrawl that decorated the rock walls. Every once in a while, Lucan passed a drawing that started out looking like letters of some kind and transitioned into loops and slashes.
He paused in front of one particular symbol that tugged at his memory. He tipped his head as though he might be able to place the misshapen drawing. It was impossible to tell how old the markings were.
Was the beast responsible? Or someone else?
The sound of swords clanging echoed in the tunnel. There was no way to tell what direction it came from, but nothing indicated anyone had found anything more than each other. He needed to keep looking.
A recessed opening nearly escaped his attention. The drawing over the entrance to the almost non-existent passageway hinted at the same shape that continued to tease his subconscious.
He managed to work his way into the opening and through to the chamber on the other side. Hundreds of candles lit the space, though he could see no sign of the wax actually melting.
What might have passed for a bed—nothing more than ripped pieces of sheets tangled together like a nest—was tucked into a small alcove. The ceiling rose to a towering peak that Lucan could swear reached the outside.
Watches, hats, flashlights, wallets, camping gear, dishes and dozens of other small objects lay scattered across on side of the chamber, most of the stuff predating this century.
Only one thing stood out to him, and he knew he had to be fucking seeing things. He stepped over and around the piles on the floor, his heart rate kicking up. He picked up the chalice, his fingers closing over the jeweled stem cast aside like another piece of junk.
Impossible…
The Grail? Here?
He scanned his surroundings, hunting for any other clue that could explain how the chalice Arthur had used to make his knights immortal ended up like a hoarder’s treasure in a dormant volcano.
He tried vanishing it the way he did with his sword, but the object remained stubbornly in his hand. Magically safe-guarded?
Knowing the others would view it as significant as Excalibur, he tucked it close to his side. With his hand curled tight around the hilt of his sword, he skirted the perimeter of the chamber, slipping into another tunnel on the other side.
Lucan could hear the sound of another confrontation ahead of him. Leaning around the column of rock, he watched Kel advance, his opponent blocked by the gargoyle’s body. Kel yelled, jerking his arm back from the blade that sliced down, splashing blood on the ground at the dragon’s feet.
Telling himself he was content to let Kel and whoever it was take care of each other, he turned back the way he’d come. He needed to find the Onyx Beast, needed to win. He took a few steps, stopped, another drawing rising up on the wall to his left.
He glanced down at the weapon in his hand, his gaze sliding over the etchings in the blade, then back to the drawings on the wall. Moving closer to the light that seemed to shrink and dance away from him, he compared the etchings on the blade and the wall.
Compelled beyond reason to turn around, Lucan backtracked to where Kel drove forward, blade meeting blade as he fought off a man a few inches taller than Lucan.
Scraggly dark hair hung in the stranger’s face, the lower half hidden by years-worth of beard that made it hard to even guess the other immortal’s age. And from the way he moved, his speed and agility marking him as a lethal predator, he had even more training than Kel. A glyph in the shape of a medallion sat square in the middle of the man’s dirt-covered chest.
Kel roared, pivoting to block the relentless blows from the stranger. The dragon managed to hold him off, going so far as to knock his attacker off his feet. The medallion glyph darkened to a black.
Hands back by his head, the stranger glanced at Lucan right before he pushed off, bridging himself back to his feet in a seamless, signature leap that made Lucan lose his grip on the Grail.
Constantine?
Chapter Fifteen
“We expected you sooner.”
Unzipping the jacket Morgana had given her, Briana watched Maeve and Aren approach. The four of them stood inside a cavern of some kind, the rudimentary altar to their right reminding Briana of something an ancient race would have used to sacrifice virgins. The four stakes, as thick as Briana’s arms, looked to be stained with blood.
Morgana merely arched a brow at Maeve’s chiding remark, but didn’t respond. “Do you have what I came for?” She held out something long and thin wrapped in fabric that neither of the gods bothered to look at.
So they had been in touch. Since Morgana had left her alone, Briana had been spinning theories, trying to fit the pieces together. This new one though, Morgana’s nonchalant behavior with two gods who likely didn’t care about her connection to Arthur, stumped her even more.
Maeve nodded. “They will be yours shortly.”
They? Briana slanted Morgana a sidelong look that had the sorceress grinning.
“She returns to the games.” Morgana curled her finger, motioning Briana closer like they were BFFs and the sorceress had the latest gossip to share.
The lines around Maeve’s mouth tightened. “Of course.”
Briana tried to keep her mouth from falling open. Just what kind of hold did Morgana have on everyone? She even thought about asking, when that icy kiss of awareness touched her neck.
Lucan?
The sorceress arched a brow, but didn’t ask what Briana sensed. Maybe she already knew. Morgana tugged the jacket off Briana’s shoulders. “I’m sure our paths will cross again.”
Briana sincerely hoped not.
Morgana straightened, flicked some invisible lint off Briana’s shoulder like a proud momma sending her cub off on her own, and winked. “Now be a good kitty and run along.”
Half expecting Maeve or Aren to intervene, Briana bolted away from the others. The second she hit the closest tunnel, Lucan’s scent intensified, and she stripped her shirt and pants off, shifting into her cat form.
Arms and legs stretching in a warm rush, she propelled herself to a run. She lost his scent twice, backtracking each time to regain it.
“Briana?”
She didn’t slow down, darting past Nessa.
Lucan was close. The increasing rhythm of her heart had nothing to do with tearing down tunnels and across one confusing as hell chamber littered with garbage and flea market rejects. She needed to see her mate with her own eyes, see that he was okay.
She spotted the Fae first. Bran stood with his back to her in the opening of another tunnel, his knuckles white where he held onto the rock. She skidded to a stop next to him, ignoring him the moment she spotted the man crouching in the middle of Lucan and Kel.
Something around the guy’s neck glowed, his gaze wild, like one of the Forgotten.
“Con?” Lucan stepped forward at the same time Kel’s head snapped around, shock burned into his face.
The man growled,
the sound deepening to an animal’s.
Con? As in Constantine?
By the gods, was there a part of the Gauntlet that she’d ever be able to wrap her head around?
Lucan nodded at Kel, and the dragon let his sword hit the floor. The gesture didn’t faze the immortal who looked crazy enough to try taking on everyone in the competition.
And that was before a blinding light sparked from his chest. Briana ducked her head to escape the vicious light, and when she peeled her eyes open, she caught only a glimpse of the man shifting into a creature that reminded her of a black tiger, only much bigger.
And then he launched himself straight at Lucan.
No fucking way.
Briana didn’t even think about it. She threw her body forward, slamming into the tiger the moment the other cat knocked Lucan off his feet.
Eyes an eerie gold followed her as she circled around her mate, never looking away from the tiger that shuffled back to its feet. Her whole body throbbed like she’d been run over by a tank, the worst of it easing the second Lucan sank his fingers into the fur at her neck.
“Briana.”
As anxious as she was to rub herself against Lucan’s side, she didn’t dare take her eyes off the other knight who had somehow become a gargoyle. Or something.
“Con, you know us,” Lucan tried.
The tiger showed off its teeth, lowering his head like he was going to attack.
“You have to get him to the altar. The chains,” Bran explained without taking a single step toward the animal. “Don’t hurt him. There is no way of knowing what affect that will have on the blood-bond with Arthur.”
Lucan looked as bewildered as she felt. Why did the Fae care about the bond between Arthur and his heir? There wasn’t time to figure it out or how they’d get the massive tiger anywhere. Constantine turned and fled.
She scrambled after him, aware of Lucan yelling for her to stop. Too quickly she lost track of where she was, but the tiger’s scent was unmistakable. He was smart enough to try and lose her, backtracking to confuse his scent trail.
Shadows stirred as Lucan’s phantom shape emerged next to her moments later. “The altar is that way.” He nodded to the tunnel ahead.
Primal Temptation pg-4 Page 26