Adam of Albion

by Kim McMahon

  His eyes flew open, and he could tell from the others’ faces that they were hearing it, too. Simon was staring out into the night with steely intensity, Artemis’s lips were parted in rapture, and Barry looked so stunned he was practically drooling.

  The melody became clearer—hauntingly lovely, and somehow achingly familiar.

  Artemis’s hand shot across in front of Simon to grab Adam’s arm.

  “The Sisters’ fortress, remember?” she whispered, with her eyes glowing. “It’s the song Orph and Eurydice were singing to each other!”

  As she spoke those words, a faint humming was starting up right in their midst—a deep, resonant baritone that intertwined with the melody in flawless harmony, then gained in strength and rose into an answering refrain.

  All four of them, as if they were one single person, slowly reached out their trembling hands to touch Orpheus.

  He was warm!

  Orpheus blinked a couple of times, shook himself like a wet spaniel—

  And immediately started griping.

  “Women!” he sputtered. “Does anybody have any idea how difficult she is? I travel across the world, go back 800 years in time, brave dangers that would curl the hair of Medusa, and what do I get?” His voice changed to a mock falsetto. “‘Well, I’m not really in the mood right now—see you again in a few centuries!’” His gaze swung accusingly to Artemis, as if she was to blame for all the indignities he’d ever suffered at the hands of the female sex.

  “Oh, it’s far from the first time,” he went on darkly, before any of them could even take a breath. “I could tell you plenty of stories, believe me. We almost got buried alive with King Tut’s mummy because somebody couldn’t resist showing off her curvy little ankh shape, and the high priest went so crazy over her, he was going to have himself sealed in there with us, and—”

  “Yeooowww!” Artemis shrieked in delight. She leaped up, scooped him off Simon’s knees, and started waltzing around with him. “You’re back!” Adam jumped up too, and Barry rose more slowly, staring open-mouthed at the ranting head.

  Then Adam realized that Artemis was frisking around like a colt, lifting Orpheus high in the air in spite of her wound. The strain and pallor in her face were gone—she was practically glowing. In fact, she looked fabulous.

  Not only that, but Simon was laughing with elation—and it was a rich, hearty laugh, not the sickly wheezing of a few minutes earlier.

  “Give me a boost up, will you, Barry?” he said, reaching out a hand. Barry hurried to clasp it.

  “Are you sure?” he asked nervously.

  Simon nodded. “I won’t be joining in the dancing—I’m not as resilient as you young pups, and I’m still feeling pretty beat up. But it seems as though the dose of medicine Orpheus just got has spilled over to Artemis and me—the energy flow is speeding our healing process.”

  With Barry’s help, bracing his free hand against the Manachan, Simon got carefully to his feet. His steps started off slow and unsteady, but he quickly got his balance back, along with the power in his eyes and voice. He was a very different man than the dying one they’d brought here.

  “Now, if I could just find a strong Irish coffee,” Simon declared, with a pleased grin.

  Then Artemis paused, as if suddenly struck by an idea. “Orph, what you just said about seeing Eurydice again in a few centuries—how do you know that?”

  His forehead wrinkled. “It was just there in my mind. It must have come with the stones singing, like a subliminal message. But I have distinct sense that we’re slated to meet in Renaissance Italy.”

  “That’s it!” she exclaimed. “The words I heard in my vision— ‘the city of flowers, at the time of rebirth.’ Renaissance means rebirth, and the city of flowers must be Florence. That was the center of it all, where the great artists and thinkers gathered. That’s where Eurydice will be, or rather, where she was, for your next meeting. It will be so beautiful and exciting!”

  Will be—like, it was already a done deal? Adam thought. But of course, if Orpheus was going, they’d have to go with him. Beautiful and exciting, maybe, but he also remembered from world history class that Renaissance Florence seethed with treachery and violence, with families like the Medici and Borgias plotting for power and ruthlessly murdering anyone who got in their way. At least the kids wouldn’t be caught completely unprepared this time, plus they’d gained some valuable experience in how to operate—although there was a new problem.

  “We’re stuck with Barry now—we’ll probably have to take him with us,” Adam whispered to her.

  “Oh, don’t worry—even Barry can’t ruin Florence.”

  She handed Orpheus to Simon to let the two of them get acquainted. Orph, delighted to have a new audience, launched right into bending his ear. Adam started thinking about getting back home. With Simon able to walk, it shouldn’t be nearly as tough as the trip here. He’d still have to bolt the sidecar back on, but he knew the procedure now, and there were no more worries about stripped bolts.

  Then he thought he felt something lightly smack him between his shoulders, like somebody tapping with a forefinger to get his attention. He spun around, staring. There was nobody, nothing—just four people and one noisy little head, same as before. He must have imagined it, because of his jumpy nerves.

  But a few seconds later, he felt another tap—this time a bonk behind his ear, and he heard whatever had hit him skitter away across the ground. Hail, maybe? But there was no sign of that, and the sky, while overcast, wasn’t stormy.

  Warily, he started walking in the direction it seemed to have come from—afraid that someone was hiding and playing some kind of weird mind game. His steps took him up onto a little knoll of high ground, a good vantage point. He scanned the surrounding area, eyes straining to pierce the dark night.

  Then he froze in horror. A long, low, black car, with headlights out, was driving past the old ruined church below—headed up to the hilltop.

  The little pecks that had pelted him were a warning, he realized, as if someone had thrown pebbles to get his attention—although they seemed to have come out of thin air. But there was no time to wonder about it. He took off back down the knoll so fast he practically sprayed gravel.

  “Everybody hide, quick!” he hissed. “It’s them, with the guns—they’re coming here, right now!”

  One lesson they’d all learned from their experiences—if somebody said, Hide quick, you didn’t stand around asking questions. They went into action like a football team at the ball snap, with Adam and Barry trundling the sidecar out of sight and Artemis helping Simon vanish in the shadows.

  They watched, barely breathing, as the sleek, sinister Jaguar crept over the hilltop crest. It was almost like a déjà vu of the scene at the church last night, and Adam was vibrating with dread that the killers would climb out and start prowling among the stones. They were bound to spot one of the group, and then it was all over. No way could they outrun those sleek, sophisticated guns that looked like weapons of mass destruction.

  The car coasted to a stop. The driver’s side window rolled down, giving a glimpse into the dimly lit interior. The same young woman was at the wheel, with her beautiful but cold face gazing intently toward the Watching Druids. There was someone else in the passenger seat, a man who didn’t seem like one of the other thugs—he seemed handsome and had wavy, carefully groomed hair instead of a shaved head.

  Once again, as he had with Simon, Adam got a hit that there was something familiar about him—but this time the feeling was a creepy one.

  For a long, long minute, everything hung suspended, as if a bomb was ticking down, ten, nine, eight—

  Then the window slid back up. The car started moving again, making a leisurely turn around the loop at the end of the road—and kept on going, cruising back down the hill, past the church, and fading into the night.

  Adam hurried to meet the others as they all came shakily out of hiding.

  “That was the woman I told you about,
” he panted. “She was with the guy who shot Jason—and then she shot that guy. Simon, do you know anything about her?”

  He was staring grimly after the car, and he gave a slow nod—a motion that somehow conveyed sadness so powerful, they could all feel it piercing straight into them.

  “I had a twin sister, who died young,” Simon said quietly. “She left an infant girl, her only child, who I raised as my own. Her name is Glorianna. She’s my niece, although I’ve always thought of her as my daughter.

  “But she turned against me—whether because of my failing, or her nature, I’ll never know. And to us—especially to Orpheus—she’s the most dangerous person alive.”

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  We owe a great debt of gratitude to people too numerous to name, but here are a few. Jason Neal and Prof. Lisa Simon have been our partners in this and other Quinotaur Press projects, with Jason the genius behind everything from website and Facebook pages to cover design, and both providing invaluable advice on many levels. Our playwright and film director friend Roger Hedden generously brought his skills to the table. Our families have been rock solid in their support (including hip-hop star and early reader Charlie Banham, who gave this a big thumbs up). Heartfelt thanks to all of you, and to the many other friends who helped along the way.

  A NOTE FROM THE AUTHORS

  If you liked ADAM OF ALBION and you think others would too, please help spread the word. We’re not a big publishing company with a hefty advertising budget—we depend on our readers, and we like this straightforward grass roots approach better, anyway. Facebook, Twitter, and just talking are great ways to share the fun with your friends. A customer review (it doesn’t have to be long or scholarly) will send your thoughts out to the wider world.

  Many thanks, Kim and Neil