by Regan Black
“Under it, you mean.” Wayne withheld judgment until Nick could share his reasoning. “She might have a suite at the hotel, but we didn’t actually see the cult gathered as a whole.”
“You felt the power,” Nick reminded him when they were safely in the attic space. “Think of Camelot.”
“I try not to,” Wayne replied. Thinking of the past only made living here more challenging. Although sharing this time with Tara had distinct advantages. If Collette hurt her...
Nick shuffled the papers around. “Not Camelot as a specific memory, as a strategic installation. Was the round table in the outer bailey?”
“Of course not.” Wayne scoffed at the preposterous idea.
“That’s my point. Think of the hotel as the inner bailey, the operation shelters her most sacred space.”
“I’ll be damned.” Wayne had sensed the power near the hotel. “You’re right. She’ll have her team use the fastest, closest route to the nexus so she can keep her prize at the heart of her power source.” Knowing she’d have the dagger and the nexus to amplify her power made a rescue even more dangerous and stacked the odds against them.
“How do we break through to stop her?”
Wayne closed his eyes, furious that he’d been so prideful and distracted that he’d allowed the witch to capture Tara, the source of the one thing guaranteed to break the binding spell. His original squire had gone above and beyond, training the following generations so thoroughly for any contingency and here he shows up and wrecks it all.
Peter had realized far more than Wayne could imagine. The man who lived and loved knew better what was at stake. The imminent threat against his offspring had swung like the Sword of Damocles over their collective heads. Which child would be the sacrifice to break Morgana free? Which generation would let down their guard and put all of humanity at risk?
Knowing Tara as he did, loving her as he did, he felt the full weight of terror in his heart. Losing Tara would destroy him, he knew it. There would be no recovery if Collette succeeded in her bid for Morgana’s unimaginable dark power.
As Nick alternately studied the hotel blueprints and the old subway excavation maps, Wayne studied his friend. Friend. The word echoed through his mind, momentarily distracting him. He’d nearly overlooked the significance of having a new friend. A friend, as true as Arthur or any of the knights he’d known in his first life.
“We’ll find her,” Wayne said, hoping that speaking the words would make it believable.
“Of course we will,” Nick muttered. “We know exactly where she is.” He gripped the back of his neck. “Whether or not we find her alive is the issue.” He sucked in a breath and blew it out in a gust. “Collette has the dagger and Tara. It’s all but done.”
“Tara will survive. I won’t tolerate any other outcome,” Wayne stated. “Your cousin is for me. I will not allow the witch to have her.”
Nick’s eyes went wide in his face. “For you.” He swallowed, apparently the maps mattered less to him as well in the face of this news. “She isn’t a prize in the cereal box to cart around and show off to your pals.”
Wayne struggled with the modern reference, though he picked up on the general meaning. “She is a treasure and I love her. I meant no disrespect.”
“Fine,” Nick snapped. “You love her. How will that work? Will she go back with you or will you stay here with her?”
“I don’t know.” He had his suspicions and no answers that would satisfy a man as protective and invested as Nick. “First we rescue Tara.” Once she was out of danger, he could take swift action against the woman who fancied herself a powerful sorceress. “Second -”
“We put down Collette,” Nick finished the sentence for him. “Where the hell is the back door,” he said, his eyes tracking the blueprints again.
“You remind me of my squire,” Wayne admitted quietly. “You are surely an echo of the man he became after he saw to every detail that would protect us.” He put his hand on Sterling’s head, beyond grateful despite the play of events that hadn’t gone as planned.
“Thanks.” The tips of Nick’s ears turned red at the compliment. “Whatever happened after you cast the spell, Peter improvised in double time, that’s for sure. Maybe some part of him will inspire us as we improvise a rescue today.”
“Tara is strong,” Wayne said, reminding both of them.
“Yeah,” Nick agreed. His face etched with worry, he returned his focus to the plans. “So is the witch.”
“Not as strong as she believes,” Wayne said. “Whether she means to free Morgana as the rightful leader or steal her power as I suspect, having both the dagger and Tara will do her little good.”
He had Nick’s full attention once more. “Isn’t that the whole point of the blood-bound spell?”
“Collette has done her research and capitalized on myths to rise up and gather a cult. She has influence and loyalty. Her inherent power is weak.”
“She’s leveled you a time or two.”
Wayne bristled. “She surprised me,” he admitted reluctantly. “I was expecting Morgana, you know. Collette’s greatest impact occurred when I was weakened from the shift to this time.”
“Make your point.” Nick tapped the blueprints. “How do we save Tara?”
“By remembering that Morgana, dead and bound for all this time, is still more powerful.”
Nick slumped into the nearest chair. “Oddly enough, that isn’t very reassuring.”
“Believe me,” Wayne pressed. “Whatever Collette’s intention with the dagger and your cousin’s blood,” his skin chilled at the thought, “Morgana will not let her power go without a fight. I knew this when I planned the binding spell. I knew it when I tracked her followers to that valley on the solstice all those fifteen centuries ago.”
“Earth magic?”
“Yes.” Another icy sensation skittered down his spine. “We know they are under the hotel. We know there is a nexus nearby. Collette is definitely planning her ritual in the deepest chamber she can find.” Wayne was trying to steel himself for all of those strikes working against him.
“Yes,” Nick prompted, impatient. “I’m asking you what we don’t know. Like how we get through her guards and stop her from bringing an evil, furious sorceress bent on revenge into New York City.”
“Blood sacrifice.”
Nick surged to his feet. “You said we’d save Tara.”
“My blood.” Wayne lowered his gaze to the clutter of maps on the table. “Let us hope Collette is strong enough to slow down Morgana’s attempt to rise. It will buy us time to get Tara clear,” Wayne explained. “Then my blood will be required to keep Morgana entombed.”
“A sacrifice play?” Nick shook his head. “Tara will never forgive you.”
“Tara will live, as will you all.” Wayne shrugged with a nonchalance he didn’t feel. “With any luck, it won’t come to that.” It would all depend on Collette. The thought gave him no comfort. “Forget the back door.” The old frustrations pummeled him. He was weary of trailing along, trying to catch Morgana or her cult unawares. A strange confidence settled over him as he studied the blueprints. “We go in through the lobby and drive right through them.”
“Seriously?”
“It is the only way. The time for sneaking around is long gone.”
“I’m not going in there to slaughter innocents,” Nick said.
“I never said that,” Wayne protested, horrified by such a presumption.
“Just so we’re clear.” Nick held up his hands. “If direct is what you want, let’s clear a path with a fire alarm.”
“You want to set the hotel on fire?”
“No.” Nick’s grin tilted one side of his mouth. “Collette’s people will be watching all the entrances. If she’s smart, she’ll have her best defense gathered around her most sacred chamber. Everything she is is riding on this, right?”
Wayne nodded.
“I suggest we go in a little less direct, but equally effective.
Fire alarm clears the path, then we knock out the sentry in the kitchens and follow the trail of guards like breadcrumbs down to her lair.” Nick planted his hands on his hips, his gaze traveling from Wayne to Sterling and back again. “There’s only one catch.”
“Which is?”
“We’re two against who knows how many.”
“We are three,” Wayne said. “Sterling is a tremendous asset in battle.” As was Wayne’s ability to cast illusions. He could only hope being underground didn’t prove as much of a hindrance today as it had in the past.
“The odds are still against us.”
Wayne smiled. “We are small, maneuverable, and we can adapt more quickly than they will. We are motivated by good intent. Most will cower, those who fight us will lose. Trust me.”
Nick nodded. “I trust you. That’s what concerns me.”
Wayne clapped him on the shoulder. “Gather your weapons, my friend. We are fighting for goodness and light. We will prevail.”
“Did Arthur sound as confident back in the day?”
“More so.” Wayne strapped his sword onto his back and grinned at the memories of many satisfying fights. “It was often annoying.”
“Well, then you’re doing it right.”
Chapter Sixteen
Tara tugged at the iron cuffs binding her wrists to the stone slab beneath her. She flexed her feet and felt the same cold, hard restraints. She couldn’t move her head to get a better look, but based on her limited view, she felt as though slab was on a slight incline.
“Oh, wonderful. Our magic charm is awake, Darius. Come say hello.”
Tara recognized the bitch’s voice. Collette had finally succeeded. Stuck like an insect on a board she couldn’t remember just now what she’d found so offensive about chivalry and an overprotective knight with antiquated ideals. At this point, she’d gladly play damsel in distress if her gallant knight would hurry up and get her out of this predicament.
He had to know she’d been taken by now. So where was he? Had the witch overcome Wayne and Nick as well? Her body trembled on a rush of fear, rattling her bindings. She didn’t much care what happened to her - as long as Wayne survived and Collette failed.
“Miss O’Malley,” Collette said, sidling into view. “Allow me to introduce my dearest friend, Darius.”
“We’ve met,” Tara mumbled, recognizing the last man she’d seen before blacking out. “It was no pleasure.”
Collette’s humorless laughter ricocheted off the walls, and trickled away into the shadows. “You have grit,” Collette said. “I think I like that in a sacrificial lamb.”
Lamb. Collette would soon discover Tara wasn’t near as soft or amiable as a lamb. Never had been. “It won’t work,” she said, as she racked her brain for a topic that might sound valid enough to distract the demented witch. “Morgana can’t be raised.”
Collette laughed again. “The dagger if you please, Darius.” She held up the narrow blade for Tara to see. “I don’t want to raise the sorceress, my dear lamb. I only want to bind her power with mine.”
Tara’s stomach knotted. “What use do you have for a little moldy, 6th century power in the 21st century?”
“More than you can imagine.” Collette’s smile twisted as she skimmed the point of the blade lightly over Tara’s chin, down her throat.
She closed her eyes, willing herself to remember Wayne’s warm touch in place of that chilly metal.
“You needn’t worry about dying tonight,” Collette continued. “No, I’ve learned a great deal about this ugly little knife. I have no intention of spilling all your blood at once.”
“Isn’t that how sacrifices work?” Tara challenged.
“Why so eager for the ever after, my lamb? It’s not as if your knight will be waiting there for you.” She gripped Tara’s chin, her nails biting into her skin. “Look at me girl. You have conflicting destinies.”
“What did you do to him?”
“Oh, not me.” Collette cooed. “Morgana, Arthur, why even Sir Gawain himself disqualified your hunky knight from Heaven’s reward.” She circled the dagger in a vague gesture toward a heavenly host well above this hellish cave.
Tara told herself it was lies. She promised herself just one more hour with Wayne was worth any price. One minute. She didn’t need forever, or an eternity. Just an hour. A minute to tell him she loved him.
What could Collette know about it anyway? If the self-styled sorceress had known anything of value, she would’ve kidnapped Tara and the dagger together and been done with the whole mess before Gawain could have blinked the centuries of sleep from his eyes.
“I made a mistake,” Tara murmured as she searched for some way to save herself.
“Do hush now,” Collette scolded her. “It’s time, Darius. I feel it.”
“All is ready,” he replied. “The power is already seeking you out.”
Tara gave the jerk credit for knowing how to stroke Collette’s ego. She bit her lip, tried to muster up some tears. “Can’t you give me something so it doesn’t hurt? Please?” she begged.
“My dear lamb, your blood must be pure. It’s why we’ve waited for the drug to wear off.”
“Right. But -”
Her stalling came to a sudden end as the blade sliced across her wrist. She felt the warmth of her blood pulsing though the wound, down her palm, sliding between her fingers. Collette murmured strange words as Tara’s blood dripped into a container, a sick descant emphasizing the spell.
“Have you ever heard a sweeter sound, Darius?”
“No, my lady.”
“You said you wouldn’t kill me tonight,” Tara protested, feeling weak.
“You’ll be surprised - and dare I say proud - when you discover what a spirit as tough as yours can endure. There now, just a bit more…”
Tara’s mind drifted away from the ugly sensations of the moment, taking her far from the copper-tinged air, the pain and pressure, the sounds of her blood fulfilling Collette’s horrible intention. She pushed her thoughts toward happier times. Family walks on the promenade. Trips to Manhattan to visit Santa Claus. Trailing her dad around the pub, learning the business. Resisting the fog of pain and despair, she thought of Wayne’s lessons about magic and intention.
Was it too late to intend for her blood to be ineffective? Too late to ruin Collette’s spell?
“Take her out of here,” Collette ordered. “I’ll join you shortly.”
“You shouldn’t be alone, my lady,” Darius reminded her. “They must be searching for her.”
The restraints popped open and Tara slid down the angled stone, her feet landing with a jarring thud. How much blood had the witch taken?
“They’re too late. Take her,” Collette snapped in that frigid voice.
“Why d’you put up with that?” Tara asked Darius.
Darius guided Tara slowly through the chamber, away from Collette. Blinking rapidly, she tried to bring the scene into better focus. Maybe somehow, Wayne would be able to see what she saw. The chamber was bigger than she’d thought, lit with torches in the corners of the arched stone ceilings. They must be in an abandoned subway line under the hotel. Such a prime location would be the perfect escape route for Collette and her followers.
“Move,” Darius ordered.
He gripped her arm above the cut Collette had made and another lance of pain shot through Tara. The resulting adrenaline blasted through the last of her lethargy. She couldn’t let Darius take her away. Once Collette had the power she coveted, there might not be another chance in her lifetime to break the witch.
A thunderous sound reverberated through the chamber. Collette swore as dust sifted from the ceiling. She brushed it away from the pattern she’d drawn into the floor.
“You’re out of time, my lady,” Darius called, turning back.
“Hold them off. I’m not done!” Collette shrieked.
Tara dropped to her knees, feigning a weakness she no longer felt. The unexpected move startled Darius and he
left her, rushing back to Collette. The witch poured out the blood she’d collected from Tara, dribbling it over the intricate symbol on the floor.
As if there hadn’t been enough surprises, Tara saw the dagger, discarded as she’d been, near the angled stone slab. According to Wayne, both dagger and O’Malley blood were essential to unlocking the spell binding Morgana.
Too bad for the self-styled leader of the new world. Tara was getting out of here and she was saving the family dagger in the process. Seizing the dagger, Tara felt an astounding sense of victory and purpose. The hilt warmed in her palm and to her shock, the ruby started to glow from within.
The dagger clutched to her chest, she surged to her feet, only to lose her footing as another thunderous boom shook the room. Hopefully that was a sign of potential rescue rather than the end of the old world. Taking shelter on the far side of the stone table where she’d been a captive minutes ago, Tara watched Collette’s body shake.
Darius was tossed aside like a feather as the ground beneath Collette came alive. Pebbles and dust bubbled up like boiling water, defying gravity. The effect grew, swirling in an upward tornado over Collette’s cloak. Horrified, Tara watched light and power coalesce in the symbols stamped onto the floor, then rise ever closer to Collette.
This was shaping up to be the worst day ever. For her, the O’Malleys, Wayne, and mankind in general.
~*~
Wayne brought his sword back up, preparing for another strike against the magic lock on the heavy oak doors. Tara was in trouble, he could feel it. She was surely injured, but worse than that he could feel Collette already losing control of the spell. He needed to get through this door before all was lost. Behind him Nick and Sterling were nearly done rounding up the last of the followers who had not fled at their arrival.
Focused on the lock and the spell blocking his attack, Wayne took a deep breath, adjusted his grip, and drove his sword straight through it one last time. The spell fractured and what had appeared to be a heavy oak door splintered like kindling.
Wayne stormed into the chamber, Sterling at his side. He spotted Tara immediately, hiding behind a stone slab. “To her,” he told his hound.