At last they reached the beach, where moonlight bathed the sand in silver. The lights at the castle’s peak had been turned off, and St. Michael’s Mount loomed dark and mysterious in the middle of the misty bay. Starlight streamed through the fog.
Bael moved swiftly over the sand, and Ursula had to hurry to keep up with him. She got the distinct impression that he wanted to maintain space between them—that if he got too close, he’d find his teeth hovering over her neck again.
“What do you know about Avalon?” she asked.
“Hardly anyone knows anything about Avalon,” he said. “Only what you’ve heard in legends. King Arthur was buried there, and Excalibur beside him.”
“Excalibur,” she murmured. “It’s a magical sword, I suppose?”
“Yes.” The sea breeze toyed with a few strands of his black hair. “And it kills dragons.”
“Ah. So that’s why Kester came here.” She frowned. “And why are you helping me?”
“You’re in danger. I can help protect you.”
“Why do you want to?”
At the sea’s edge, he stepped barefoot into the water. She looked him up and down, for the first time realizing why his clothes fit so poorly. He’d come through one of Nyxobas’s portals, which meant he’d arrived naked.
“Where did you get your trousers?”
“I borrowed the clothes from a gentlemen sleeping on a bench.”
“Is he okay?”
“He’d imbibed too much alcohol.”
“I see.”
Bael took a few more steps into the sea, then stopped and turned back to face Ursula. The waves lapped around him and the hulk of St. Michael’s Mount loomed ominously in the distance.
Ursula didn’t want to ask about his bloodlust, but she had to know what she was facing if she was going to venture out into the dark waters with him.
Bael turned to look at her, his pale eyes glinting in the silver light. “Are you coming?”
“What stopped you from biting my neck back at the cottage?”
His penetrating gaze rooted her in place. “I only temporarily lost control of the hunger. It won’t happen again. I’m nearly rid of it.”
“Okay.” Ursula sat on a rock and unzipped her boots, pulling them off. “So you really traveled all the way here to help me?”
“That’s not the only reason.”
She stuffed her boots into her rucksack. “And what’s the other?”
“I also have unfinished business with the Queen of Avalon. I haven’t been able to find her. The path to the Fortunate Isle has been lost for centuries. ”
She rose. “Do you suppose we’re on the right track?”
“I cannot say. It is said that you must possess a Torc of Malicus to enter. But the path itself has been lost for centuries.”
Ursula gripped her rucksack as she waded into the water. She’d expected sand, but instead round cobbles met her feet, like a road beneath the dark water. She followed Bael through the shallow water, the icy waves lapping at her ankles. As she walked, she shivered, wishing she’d worn something heavier.
As they walked through the water, her senses seemed to intensify: the nighttime breeze that caressed her bare arms, the taste of salt on her lips, and the rhythmic lapping of the waves. Bael walked gracefully ahead of her, barely more than a dark shadow. She tried not to think about the bloodlust that had nearly consumed him earlier.
The sea receded as they walked, the tide continuing to ebb. As the water thinned, Ursula looked down at the cobblestone causeway beneath her feet.
When they reached the shore, the path sloped gently upward over rock, the stones now dry under her feet. Ahead of her, at the base of a stone wall, Bael stopped and sniffed the air.
“What are you doing?” asked Ursula.
“I can smell the vampires.” Bael stared into the darkness, then whispered, “Get your sword out.”
Holding her breath, Ursula unsheathed her katana.
With the vamps scented, Bael picked up the pace and Ursula had to practically run over the cobblestones to keep up. The path sloped sharply upwards, lined by a rough stone wall on one side eventually giving way to lush greenery and thick woods. Above, the dark castle towered over the island. Ursula’s breath burned in her lungs as she jogged along just behind Bael.
Suddenly he stopped, holding up a hand. Up ahead, a shout pierced the air.
“What is going on?” she whispered.
“If we are indeed in the right place, those screams mean someone has woken Cormoran.”
Cormoran? Whoever that was. Ursula was beginning to remember Bael’s infuriating tendency to leave out key details until they were in the thick of it. Before Ursula could press him on this point, another scream ripped through the quiet night.
A dark form swooped over their heads, followed by a crack behind them as it smacked into the trunk of an oak. Ursula strained her eyes in the dim moonlight, her stomach clenching as she recognized the headless body of one of Mordred’s sons. In the next moment, the body turned to ash.
Bael turned to his left, nodding at a rocky hill thickly overgrown with brush. “We keep going.”
“Who or what is Cormoran?” she hissed.
Ignoring her question, Bael launched into a sprint, and Ursula chased after him, gripping her sword.
Fast as lightning, he moved up the rocky hillside, and Ursula ran after him, weaving through the shrubs. As they moved, the surroundings seemed to change, growing more thickly forested with oak and hazel.
At last, they burst into a clearing at the top of the mount. Ursula caught her breath, staring up at the dark fortress. The castle stood off to the side on top of a series of battlements. In the dark, she nearly missed the enormous man looming over them, until he stepped into a shaft of moonlight.
Ursula’s heart skipped a beat, and she took a step back. The man had to be twenty feet tall, his hair long and greasy, and he wore only a tattered loincloth. In one hand he held a monstrous club. In the other, he gripped Mordred’s remaining son. Mordred himself was nowhere to be seen.
“That’s Cormoran,” said Bael next to her.
The vampire flailed wildly in the giant’s grip, his eyes wild with fear. Suddenly, Cormoran threw him in high in the air, the vamp’s body catching in the moonlight. As the vamp fell to earth, the giant swung his club like a baseball bat. With a crack of shattering bone he severed the vamp’s head, sending it rocketing into the night sky like a cannonball. Ursula’s stomach dropped. Holy hells.
With a feral roar Bael charged at the giant. Maniac. He doesn’t even have a weapon. Cormoran swung for him with his club, but with a burst of shadow magic Bael soared over the swing, clutching onto the beast’s shoulder. He pulled himself into position on Cormoran’s back, and locked his arms around the giant’s neck. The giant spun, dropping his club to claw at his back, but he couldn’t reach Bael.
Her grip tightening on her sword, Ursula stepped closer, starting to circle the giant, her eyes on Bael. His muscular arms squeezed against the giant’s throat like the coils of a snake, and the giant’s face reddened, his eyes bulging. The giant stopped swatting at its back, bringing its hands to its throat instead. Slowly it began to peel Bael’s arms away, sucking in a ragged breath. Bael needed help.
Ursula lunged, slashing at the giant’s leg with her katana, but the blade seemed to bounce off his skin. No wonder he’s not wearing anything.
Grunting, the giant peeled Bael’s other arm from his throat. With a brutal jerk, Cormoran pulled Bael off his back, holding up the Lord of Abelda with one arm. Frantically, her heart beating a wild tattoo, Ursula slashed and jabbed at the giant’s legs, but her sword wouldn’t penetrate the skin.
“Begone, demon,” Cormoran roared, in a voice that sounded as if his vocal cords were made from flayed flesh. He reared back his head and flung Bael into the darkness. Ursula’s stomach dropped, as the giant turned to face her. Still, she had to believe Bael was all right, given that he’d survived a fall from the
top of the Plaza Hotel.
Cormoran’s tongue flicked over his purple lips. “Now, you’re a pretty one.”
Emerazel’s fire stirred within her. It was one thing to be attacked by a giant, but it was quite another to be objectified by one.
She pointed her sword at the giant, knowing it would do fuck-all against him, but bravado was about all she had in her arsenal right now. “Where is Mordred?”
The giant growled, reaching for her with one of his massive hands. She dodged, barely escaping his grasp.
“I won’t hurt you, my little lovely,” he purred.
Ursula dodged again as he snatched at her. So far, she’d been able to stay out of his reach, but she could also see he was slowly herding her toward the castle battlements behind her, trying to block her in. If she got to close to the walls, there would be no room to dodge. She needed a plan. Perhaps the battlements could actually be useful.
As the giant reached for her, she dove under his grasp, then rolled between his legs. She leapt up and broke into a sprint toward the castle, somehow moving as fast as phantom wind.
The giant picked up his club. “You can run, little thing, but you cannot hide.”
Ursula sprinted up the hillside, letting the winds carry her, as Cormoran lumbered after her, until she reached a small battlement—a six-foot high stone wall holding back the cliff face. She threw her sword on top of it before pulling herself up after it. Cormoran paused as he reached it.
“Now I’ve got you,” said the giant, placing a hand on a parapet, trying to box her in.
Ursula picked up her katana and ran back a few paces before turning to face the giant again. Then she charged, leaping into the air as Bael had done. However, unlike Bael, she had a weapon, and she used it to stab at Cormoran’s face.
She aimed for his eye, but he ducked and she only grazed his forehead. Worse, she had miscalculated the height of the battlement. Between the height of her leap, the height of the wall, and the steeply sloping hillside she was now a good fifteen feet in the air. Tumbling as she hit the slope, she curled up into a ball as she rolled head-over-heals. She didn’t hear any bones crack, but she lost her grip on her sword. At the bottom of the hill, she crawled to her feet, a little woozy.
An earth-shattering crash rumbled the ground next to her—Cormoran landing on the grass. Before she could dodge, he caught one of her ankles in a vise-like grip.
“Gotcha, little one.” He lifted her into the air, dangling her upside-down in front of his face. He stared at her with yellow eyes, his fleshy tongue wetting his lips. His hot breath reeked of rotten meat. “You’ll be an obedient little wife, now, won’t you?”
Blood trickled from the gash on his forehead. As he pulled her closer to his face, Ursula swung her body closer and punched him hard in the cut.
Cormoran grinned. “Oh, I like when tiny ones put up little fight first.”
A feral roar rumbled over the horizon, sending a shiver over Ursula’s body. She didn’t have to turn her head to know it was Bael.
The giant dropped her and she hit the ground hard, pain splintering her skull. Coughing, she rolled over to see Bael leaping for Cormoran. Everything seemed to move in slow motion, Bael’s blood-red eyes flashing in the silvery light.
His fist slammed into Cormoran’s face, and the giant went down hard, sending shudders through the earth. His lips sagged, and his eyes rolled back into his head. He was out cold.
Ursula crawled to her knees, rubbing the back of her skull. Her entire head throbbed, and dizziness washed over her. Nausea climbed up her gut. She couldn’t quite manage standing yet. Just a few yards away, Bael stood with his back to her, his muscled body rigid with tension.
“Bael?” she asked tentatively.
Next to her, the giant’s body twitched.
“Stay away.” Dark magic stained the air around him.
One of the giant’s fingers moved in the grass.
“Bael, Cormoran is still moving.”
When Bael turned to look at her again, his eyes had returned to that beautiful, pale gray, though a dark hunger still burned in them. “We need to hurry. He will revive soon.” He crossed to her and offered his hand, helping her to his feet. “Nice work cutting him on his forehead. The blood blinded him.”
The giant took a shuddering breath.
Silver light glinted in Bael’s eyes. “I think we’ve come to the right place.”
“And what makes you say that?”
“Legend says that a giant named Cormoran guarded the path to Avalon, and that his grave formed the entrance.” He closed his eyes, sniffing the air, then pointed to small grove of apple trees at the edge of the clearing. “There.”
As they entered the clearing, an enormous, dark hole came into view. Bael led her to its edge.
By his side, she peered into it, straining her eyes in the darkness. “Is this it? The entrance to Avalon?”
Instead of responding, Bael began muttering in Angelic, and a glowing orb appeared above them. With a flick of his wrist, Bael directed it into the hole.
The orb descended, revealing an earthen floor twenty feet below—and from that, a deep tunnel carved into the earth that sloped further downward. Bael jumped down, kicking up a cloud of earth when his feet landed. Of course. It’s not like he’s going to bother explaining anything.
After taking a final glance at the unconscious Cormoran, Ursula hopped into the earthen hole. She hit the ground hard, but the dirt on the floor softened the landing. Already, Bael was taking into the tunnel, his amber orb lighting the way.
Sword in hand, she hurried after him, until she caught up with him. The earthen tunnel walls sloped downward, the high ceilings tall enough for a giant. Up ahead, the earth walls of the tunnel gave way to dark stone before reaching a small rough-stone chamber. Unlike Cormoran’s pit, this seemed older, almost prehistoric. Apart from a dusty pile of red cloth, it was completely empty.
Rough Angelic words marked one of the walls, and Ursula translated them in her mind:
The path to Avalon is before you.
A golden apple, an unsullied body
Will reveal the way.
Below the inscription, a small, apple-shaped niche had been carved into the rock.
“Any idea what that means?” asked Ursula.
Bael simply stared at the inscription.
“Mordred had a golden clasp on his cloak,” she offered. “But I don’t suppose that helps us now.”
A loud thud rumbled over the earth, dislodging dirt from the earthen ceiling. The giant was stirring, and dread shivered up Ursula’s spine. She traced her fingers along the apple carving. There was something familiar about it—something she’d seen before.
“Wait,” said Ursula her eyes flicking to the pile of dusty, crimson cloth that lay discarded just below the inscription. Was it a crimson cloak? Like the one Mordred had worn? “Those—” She pointed at the clothes. “I think that was Mordred.”
Bael reached down and picked up the cloak—the exact same shade as Mordred’s. When Bael picked up the garment, Mordred’s golden apple clanged onto the stone floor.
Just as Bael was picking it up, the earth rumbled. Ursula peered down the tunnel, her heart racing as she caught a glimpse of Cormoran dropping into the earthen pit behind them.
Bael rolled the golden apple in his fingers. “Something killed Mordred when he tried to use this.”
Ursula nodded. “The river hag said only the pure may enter. Any idea what that means?” With any luck, this wasn’t a virginity requirement.
Behind her, Cormoran’s voice boomed through the tunnel, and dirt rained around them. “I see you’ve found your way into my little cell, my love cave.”
Bael met her gaze. “It’s the same to travel through Nyxobas’s waters. Clothing makes us impure. We must remove our clothes.”
Ursula swallowed hard. “Of course.”
I hope to hell this works. As fast as she could, Ursula tore off her clothing, slipping out of her panties an
d bra. The cool night air kissed her skin, raising goosebumps. She tried not to stare at Bael’s perfect body as he undressed, his back to her. As the giant’s footsteps echoed off the tunnel, Bael pressed the pendant into the apple-shaped niche. And when he did, the rock shimmered, thinning before them to a heavy mist. Without looking back they stepped into it.
CHAPTER 10
Shrouded in mist, Ursula hugged herself, and not just for modesty. A cold night breeze whispered over her bare skin, raising goosebumps. A few steps forward and pearly moonlight diffused through the thick mist. When she turned to look behind her, she was surprised to find herself standing directly in front of a stark cliff that towered high into the air, lost in the darkness and fog above.
She stood on damp stone, and when her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she spotted Bael to her right. Shivering, she tried to make sense of where she was in the darkness. A distant surf roared rhythmically, pounding against rocks, and the air tasted of salt. Through the fog, she could only see the faintest outline of Bael’s enormous silhouette. As the mist thinned just a little, a low wall appeared through the fog, about ten feet in front of her.
She glanced at Bael again, her gaze lingering on his broad, muscled back, his body turned away from her. Tattoos covered nearly every inch of his skin. Alchemical symbols, Angelic text, a sun surrounded by a laurel wreath—all faintly glowing with a menacing red light. She’d never seen that on him before, but that must be the effects of ‘the old way.’ On either side of his spine, red wounds marked his skin where his wings had been carved away. Shadow magic shimmered over them, cauterizing the wounds.
“Are we in Avalon?” Ursula asked.
Bael shook his head without looking at her. “No. I don’t think so.”
She forced herself to keep her eyes off his naked body as he walked to the wall, and she followed him at enough of a distance that the fog shielded her naked body from him. The old way still thrummed in his veins; no sense in risking setting him off.
Primeval Magic (Demons of Fire and Night Book 3) Page 9