Morgana Trilogy Complete Series

by Alessa Ellefson

  The mood in the room shifts again, getting restless. They want to see more blood spilled today, want to taste it in the air. Especially if it comes from someone as fearsome as Gad. And Gadreel senses it too, for he drops to a knee before Carman.

  “My queen,” he forces out. “I pray for thy…mercy.”

  “Such lovely words when uttered by you.” Carman pricks her finger on the sharp point of a carved demon’s wing, and a drop of blood beads out of the puncture wound. “I can certainly sense your eagerness, this time around. Though your little display right before belies it.”

  She closes her hand into a fist and a red wave spills out from between her fingers, streaking towards Gad. The beautiful demon’s shoulders bunch up as the ruby tide shifts and twists on itself before him, quickly taking human form. I feel myself grow pale at the scarlet shape—an exact replica of Carman’s outline, down to the last feather of her dress.

  “A blood shadow,” a nasally voice says next to me. Nibs is back from the plains, and is eyeing the scene dispassionately.

  “W-What’s it f-for?” I ask through chattering teeth.

  “Watch.”

  Carman’s blood shadow grasps Gad by the neck and forces his head up.

  “Does it please you so much to parade up here?” Carman asks.

  Gadreel doesn’t respond. The blood shadow squeezes a little harder around his neck, and I don’t miss the look of pain that crosses his face.

  “It was…an offering,” he says at last.

  Carman gives a disdainful look at the banshee still lying at her feet. “You cannot offer me what I already own. Besides, what do I care about such a useless bag of bones?”

  She flicks her finger and a tentacle of black shoots out from her dress to punch into the banshee, sending her rolling towards the edge of the dais.

  “Don’t you dare touch her!” I shout, straining against the glacial force keeping me in check. “The banshee’s mine!”

  Carman cuts me a dark glance. “Yours?”

  Her blood shadow tosses Gad aside, and the next thing I know it’s standing in front of me, its half-translucent form shifting and flickering like candleflame. A gaping hole appears in what should be the shade’s head, and, with a sickening feeling, I realize it’s smiling at me.

  “That would make it two pets for you, sweets,” Carman says, and I detect the threat in her hooded gaze. “Seems you’re getting a little greedy.”

  “She is mine,” I repeat stubbornly.

  Carman considers me for a very long moment while her blood shadow undulates before me.

  “If you wish to keep this other pet of yours,” she finally says, her voice unctuous, “then you have to give something else in return. Make it a fair exchange, don’t you agree?”

  My stomach clenches at the sight of the banshee thrashing on the floor, the rope of darkness tightening around her midsection.

  “I agree!” I snarl.

  “Then let it be so.”

  “Missssssstresss, nooooo.”

  Carman snaps her fingers and the black tendrils around the banshee dissolve into thin air.

  “The deal is sealed, then,” Carman says with a beatific smile that looks eerily like that of her blood shadow.

  I suddenly regain the use of my limbs, steam rising off my warming limbs.

  “Nibs, step forward.”

  At her words, Gad finally looks at me, eyes gleaming in anticipation, his neck still bearing the blood shadow’s mark. The mountain of a demon, Az, pulls away from the shadows to pick me up in his strong arms, making sure I can’t run away.

  “Brace thyself,” he says in my ear. “This should beest the last thee are taxed thus.”

  I keep my eyes firmly on the banshee while Az carries me across the dais to lower me down at Carman’s feet.

  “A life for a life,” Carman says, cheeks dimpling as I stand shivering before her.

  Someone sniggers in the crowd. “Negotiating with her captive?”

  The pack of demons crammed in the chamber murmur in assent.

  “In Balor’s time,” another pipes up, “this never would’ve—”

  The rest of his sentence is abruptly cut off, and I finally let myself look away from the banshee to look at what’s happening. The blood shadow’s moved to one of the demons halfway across the throne room. Its hand is wrapped around the creature’s thick neck, just as it did with Gad, but this time I can clearly see the blood seeping out of the demon’s every pore, to be absorbed by Carman’s shadow. Then, in the span of a long breath, the blood shadow returns to its former station, leaving behind a dry husk, and an uneasy crowd.

  “Remember that your word is binding,” Carman says, drawing my attention back to her, as if she hasn’t been interrupted.

  At a signal from her, Nibs shuffles over with that damned bag of his. The velvet pouch bulges over the Sangraal, yet the clurichaun still finds a way to hold it gingerly, as far away from his precious self as he can. I clench my fists together. Gadreel is now on both knees, his face lifted reverently up to me. It makes me sick that such a monster will be rewarded.

  “I won’t do it,” I say past the lump in my throat. “I won’t let you restore him or any other of these demons to full power anymore.”

  Carman lets out a huff of laughter. “Who said anything about restoring anyone?”

  Both Gad and I look at her in shock.

  “But my queen,” Gadreel starts, imploring.

  “Who gave you leave to speak?” Carman snaps, eyes sparkling with ire. “You should be glad I’m letting you live at all, or do you need a reminder of your standing?”

  For a moment, it looks like Gad’s going to complain, but then he lowers his head again. “No, my queen. I apologize for the interruption.”

  “But then what…,” I start.

  The blood shadow is suddenly in front of me, its hands cold and slimy on my shoulders, forcing me down to my knees in front of Nibs. I steal another glance at the banshee, then, shaking, I reach inside the bag. My fingers instinctively grip the stone bowl inside, and the Sangraal grows warm in response as I pull it out of its pouch, runes blazing along its rim.

  The silence in the room grows deeper, everyone watching with bated breath as the blood shade punctures my arm, letting my blood drip freely onto the Sangraal. With growing dread, I stare as the bowl slowly fills up with a golden liquid, the very same that healed my wounds and restored my powers. Sweat pours down my forehead and my sides as the bout of nausea that always accompanies this moment hits me.

  At last, Carman uncoils herself from her throne and I feel her long fingers tilt my chin back so she can look into my eyes.

  “I will now collect the lift I am due,” she says, grasping the Sangraal over my shaky hand.

  Pain rips through my skull, my vision exploding into a million white lights, before the acid burn continues down into my body, tearing a scream from my parched lips. I’m dimly aware of the Sangraal burning through my palm, heat searing my hand to the dull beating of a heart. I can hear myself begging Carman to put an end to me, to make this agony stop. But she never relents.

  It feels like I’m being split open, my innards ripped to shreds. I can’t see. Can’t breathe.

  Then a roar suddenly erupts in the cavernous chamber, making the floor tremble, and Carman finally releases me.

  I sink to the ground in a useless heap, unable to even lift a finger. The roaring starts again, louder than before. BOOM! The ceiling splinters as something massive pounds against it. The crowd lets out terrified shrieks. BOOM! The whole cavern is shaking now, toppling fleeing demons to the floor.

  BOOM!

  The ceiling explodes outward, and I feel someone move above me to protect me from the rocks pelting down on us. Searing heat washes across the cavern, light blooming against my eyelids as a column of fire erupts in the middle of the ruined throne room.

  “Missstresss,” the banshee howls over the din.

  I crack my eyes open, and feel my blood run cold at the s
ight of the gigantic creature scrambling its way up through the hole in the ceiling, large leathery wings already spreading out for flight.

  Chapter 12

  Luther is glaring at me, his whole body vibrating with barely contained violence.

  “Don’t be a fool,” he says. “Your little crusade is bound to get our best knights killed before you even make it inside the school proper. I will not allow it. And if this is the best you can come up with, I suggest you stay put and let the adults take care of matters.”

  “Let the adults run things?” Arthur’s voice cuts in, and the bitterness in it catches me off guard. “Isn’t that what we’ve been doing all along? Sending Caamaloth warning after warning, trusting you to do the right thing to protect us all. But did you listen? No.

  “Two years since Carman’s been freed, and still you cower away behind your walls, doing nothing but sending empty promises while those whom we’re honor-bound to protect keep perishing. And for what? More money? Isn’t that also why you treated Morgan like a leper, and kept running programs to exterminate the Fey? Have you learned nothing?”

  “Oh, I know what this is about now,” Luther says with a sneer that reminds me of Hector. “But if you think I’m going to ruin myself just so you can impress a filthy Fey, and one who tried to kill you, you’re out of your mind.”

  “You forget I am no longer a child,” Arthur says. “And the Council has trusted me enough to give me free reign in matters such as these.”

  “That carte blanche can be just as easily taken away if they suspect you of unsound mind,” Luther replies coldly.

  “We no longer have time for internal discord, Pendragon,” Lugh says, stepping out of the garden’s shadows with Sameerah at his side, their footsteps silent on the fresh snow. “Algol’s rising, a sure sign Carman is growing ever more powerful.”

  “And we’re entertaining severe doubts as to whether we’ll be able to resist at all once it reaches its zenith,” Sameerah adds, matching Luther’s tone.

  The Fey warrior looks fierce as always, her black mamba draped around her neck like a heavy necklace. The four of them are standing in the very same garden where Arthur first showed me how to use oghams. Crazy how back in those days I was despairing of ever being able to do any kind of elemental manipulation. How much simpler things back then seem to me now.

  Luther spears the two Fey with a scowl. “I will not take threats from the likes of you, either. Perhaps if your kind had stepped in earlier, we wouldn’t be where we are today.”

  “Our kind?” Sameerah repeats, and her snake opens its blue-black mouth as if to strike. “You mean the kind that keeps having to save your asses because you’re too much of a craven to fight yourself?”

  “Prudence isn’t cowardice,” Luther retorts. “Unlike you base creatures, we do not wish to uselessly waste human lives. That is not how wars are won. When the time comes—”

  “That time is now, Luther,” Arthur says, his voice oddly gentle. “That’s what I came here to tell you. The Board’s officially removed you from the position of General, now that there is more proof that you…”

  Arthur’s voice trails off, and Sameerah sniggers.

  “I think ‘proof that you offed the previous leader’ is the subphrase you’re looking for,” she supplies.

  Luther’s lips thin out. “Don’t be preposterous,” he says, “nobody ‘offed’ anyone.”

  I peer at the ex-Watcher in confusion, the pale scar above her left eye almost glowing against the rich umber of her skin. She’s not in any pain that I can see—in fact, she seems to be having fun—which means she’s not lying.

  My gaze slides back to Luther’s hard features. Surely he can’t really have killed Jennifer’s dad? I try to recall the one and only time I ever met Sir Leo de Lyonesse. It was at the year-end ball, right before Inspector Bossart and I were attacked by the two kid draugar. Sir Leo had certainly not looked sick back then, quite the contrary.

  Sameerah’s black snake uncoils itself from around her shoulders, its flickering tongue tasting the air curiously as Arthur’s pixie lands on its coffin-shaped head.

  “The point is,” Arthur continues, “that I didn’t come here seeking your approval, but to keep you informed that I’ve already sent out messages to our retired forces, as well as to the—”

  “Didn’t I just tell you I wouldn’t finance your little venture, boy?” Luther snaps.

  “I don’t think you heard me right the first time, father,” Arthur says calmly. “Considering mother’s predicament and your involvement in Sir Leo’s death, the jury has allowed for the transfer of the estate’s management.”

  Luther blanches. “You?”

  “Sir Pelles appointed me himself,” Arthur says. “At least until your trial is over. Until then, you are to remain under house arrest.”

  “Sister Marie-Clémence would never have allowed such a travesty to pass,” Luther says.

  “Sister Marie-Clémence had nothing to say,” Arthur retorts.

  Luther’s eyes grow wide as the truth finally sinks in that his own son has turned against him. Frankly, neither can I. Whatever happened to the goody-two-shoes I knew who always followed every rule by the letter?

  “So, to finish what I was saying,” Arthur continues, “not only have I asked our retired forces to return, but I’ve also requested help from the other knight factions.”

  “As in the Errant Companions?”

  “Among others,” Arthur says.

  Luther casts the two Fey a sardonic look. “Well, perhaps you won’t be too badly off, then,” he says, knowing as well as I do that the leader of the Errant Companions is a born Fey-hater. “But though you’ve managed to rob me blind, don’t think they’ll be fool enough to follow a twenty-year-old kid who diddled with a Fey.”

  I recoil at the insult, feeling like I’ve just been slapped.

  “You’re lucky I don’t hit a man who’s already down,” Arthur says, his voice full of barely-contained wrath. “But say that once again, and I won’t stop myself.”

  “I could do it for you,” Sameerah offers, with a corner smile in my direction.

  “As for the leadership of our combined forces, you are right,” Arthur continues. “Sir Cade was picked to lead. You see, funding our armies and leading them are two very different things, father, as you should know. Although they did pick me to lead the joint taskforce to free my people from Lake High.”

  “They’re no longer your people, Arthur!” Luther shouts, and for the first time since I’ve known him, I wonder if he’s truly worried for his son. “They turned their backs on you the moment you lost your place in KORT, so why are you throwing your life uselessly away like this?”

  A large shape suddenly lands in their midst, spraying them with snow, and cutting their argument short.

  “Sorry for interrupting,” Gauvain says, flashing a wide grin at Sameerah, “but I’m afraid I have bad news.”

  “Funny way of showing it,” the Fey warrior mutters.

  “Lord Oberon’s replied to our latest missive,” Gauvain says, sidling up to the Fey warrior despite her evident disinterest, “and this time he made it very clear that he wouldn’t join us unless this Danu of yours showed her ass.”

  “Watch it,” Lugh growls.

  “His quote,” Gauvain says, his eyes not leaving Sameerah a second. “So, I’ve been thinking. What if we could entice him, and the other recalcitrant lords and ladies who haven’t yet spoken for Carman, with something else?” He pauses for effect, looking rather cocky, then adds, “Fey weapons.”

  “Don’t be absurd,” Luther says. “There’s a reason your Order decided to lock them away.”

  “Those weapons could give us the edge we need,” Arthur says pensively.

  “Out of the question!” Luther explodes. “Think of all the knights we lost over the centuries to secure those weapons. And now you want to hand them back to the very same demons we took them from? The ones who abused of their power to subjugate mankind fo
r centuries? I thought you were smarter than that!”

  A bright light blazes next to the toolshed, its beam melting the snow as it cuts a circled trefoil pattern on the ground. An instant later, a short Fey boy appears in its center, looking out of breath.

  “My lord,” Pigfain says, bowing with some difficulty.

  “Did they respond to the message?” Lugh asks.

  “Not sure, my lord,” Pigfain says, “but the package was sent for delivery.”

  “Then we can only wait and hope,” Arthur says.

  “Can’t wait much longer, I’m afraid,” the Pigfain says, sounding strained.

  “Another attack?” Sameerah asks, and Gauvain finally stops fidgeting.

  Pigfain’s throat convulses. “A monster was signaled leaving Lake High, heading for your Demesne, my lord.”

  “The children!” Arthur exclaims, and the world blurs, as if I’ve stood up too quickly.

  “Take us there immediately,” Lugh says, springing into the still-active portal, the others following close behind.

  “Hold your breath,” Pigfain says, and there’s another bright flash.

  Screams of terror greet us before the light subsides again, followed by a thunderous roar. A stab of panic goes through me.

  Sameerah steps in front of us, looking up. “Don’t tell me it’s a—”

  “Dragon!” someone shouts, barreling through the clearing.

  Then the heat wave hits us, turning the whole forest hazy before the treetops burst into flames.

  “I thought they were extinct,” Gauvain says, his eyes round with disbelief.

  They were, I want to say, until Carman had me bring one back to life.

  “Get everyone to safety!” Lugh shouts before shooting into the sky to fend off the beast.

  “I’ll cover you guys,” Arthur says.

  “Are you insane?” Sameerah hisses, lowering herself into a fighting position. “If anything happens to you, I’ll get my hide skinned by that bitchy girl of yours when she returns.”

  Another wave of heat blasts through the forest, blurring my vision.

  “Raido!” Arthur intones.