Angel Unleashed

by Linda Thomas-Sundstrom

  His heart was racing again. Blood pounded in his ears. Avery had used the word love.

  Light shone from her—all those little dancing particles, so like stardust. But when her mission was completed, she would leave him. She would be welcomed by the bigger light, and he’d be alone again, in the dark.

  “We both have demons to slay,” Avery said.

  Rhys nodded. “Your mission is nearly complete.”

  He again took in his surroundings, noting the wild tangle that probably hid a giant pair of gates.

  “Let’s finish your mission, Avery. Let us do that first, before setting foot in that place.”

  She came closer, looked up at him. “Where is the Grail, Rhys?”

  He countered. “Why don’t you know?”

  “You are my bond with the Seven. I only see the chalice through your eyes, and you have never been to the Grail’s final resting place.”

  “What bond?” he asked. “How would you know I’ve never been there? Explain.”

  “I can’t. Not yet. You...”

  “Yes. You’ve said before I won’t like the truth. But that’s no excuse now. We’re here, Avery. We’re very near to those blasted gates and I am the only one of us who doesn’t know what that really means.”

  She continued to stare up at him, glowing from within like the first time he’d seen her. Confusion creased her brow. He thought there was a delicate pink tint to her cheeks, something he hadn’t seen there before.

  “All right,” she conceded warily. Her wings, still folded tightly to her back, fluttered as if ruffled by a breeze. “All right, Rhys.”

  When she averted her face, Rhys felt the return of a foreboding chill that clashed with the burn of his sigils.

  “I will give you more of the truth,” she said. “I was there.”

  He could see how difficult this was for her.

  “I know that,” he whispered.

  “We were there together, you and I. At the same time. But I had been there longer. I wasn’t kept in a fine room with a servant to minister to my needs.”

  “It’s your scream I hear in my memory,” he said when her voice quieted.

  She nodded. “They lured me here with a golden promise. The three of them had found the Grail.”

  “And you were sent to retrieve it.”

  “But the castle’s occupants had used it. They had used the Grail to extend their lives.”

  “The Makers.”

  “You called them that.”

  “How did they do that? How did they use the Grail for such a purpose?”

  “By drinking each other’s blood from that holy cup, drawn from their dripping veins, and assuming that blood was the key to their success.”

  Rhys blinked slowly, hating the image that presented him with. The red liquid he had seen in their goblets. The red fluid he had ingested. It was all coming back with a stark clarity.

  “It worked,” he said. “They became immortal.”

  “And in the process, lost their souls.”

  “What about you?” he pressed, closely observing Avery’s reactions. He saw the shudder shake her and was sorry the truth he sought was so terrible.

  “I was a source of new blood. With me, there was no need for more cannibalization. Light ran in my veins, when they had already sunk far into darkness.”

  The horror of that explanation forced Rhys to close his eyes. But he had already pieced some of this together.

  “So they took your blood, drank your blood,” he said in disgust.

  “No. They couldn’t take my blood for themselves. The blood of light could not help to heal the soulless ones. It made them sick when they tried. They barely survived. So they lured you here, as they had lured me and the other Knights in your brotherhood. All their promises were false and for nothing, except where the seven of you were concerned.”

  Rhys’s sigils seemed to claw at his neck in preparation for what was to come, that awful announcement that contained the seed at the center of the truth he sought.

  “They gave your blood to us?” he asked her.

  She nodded. “The other Knights got an infusion of something else to go along with my blood and the blood of the Makers. The Makers were experimenting, you see.”

  “You said the other Knights. The other Knights got something else, as well.”

  “Yes. You,” Avery said, hesitating before delivering the blow Rhys felt coming. “You, and only you, received only my blood, along with the blood of your Makers.”

  He couldn’t take his eyes off her. Didn’t dare speak.

  “The blood of the angels is what you carry inside you to counteract the Makers’ blood gift,” she said. “Because of that, the souls of the Seven were retained when you all died as mortals and were resurrected as immortal. Because of the mistakes the Makers made by using an angel to further their agenda, they lost control of all seven of you.”

  She paused for a breath, mustering the courage to go on.

  “Their only hope after that was to hide the Grail so no others could find it or use it against them. Only the Knights were strong enough to stand against them, but none of you knew the truth. You believed their lies and willingly obeyed the vows you had taken.”

  “We hid the Grail,” Rhys said.

  She nodded again. “You hid it well from the world, and also from them.”

  The picture that puzzle was presenting to him was a terrible one.

  “We did their bidding,” he said, sickened more by that idea.

  She nodded. “And the blood they tampered with has kept the Grail from them all this time.”

  “They’ve been looking for it?”

  “Oh, yes. For as long as I have.”

  “That’s why one of them wanted more blood from you tonight, so that he could...”

  “Start over. Find someone who could help them find the Grail, using me as the link to gain control over the world’s most powerful holy relic. There’s no telling what they might have done with it after that.”

  Rhys’s mind was turning, spinning, to access more pieces of that puzzle.

  “What about the Fae? She was there with you at the castle?”

  “I think maybe her blood was used in one of you.”

  Again an image of Griffin, his blood brother, came to Rhys. Griff had red hair, like that Fae creature’s. Griffin’s eyes held a similar gleam.

  “Damn,” he muttered, without speaking the rest of the stream of curses that came to his mind. “Damn them all to hell.”

  When he opened his eyes, Avery was there, close. Her words were as sharp as the knife she carried. Her fragrance was as sweetly unsettling as ever.

  She said, “You beat them at their own game, Rhys. Once I have the Grail, you will be free of all that.”

  She had said the same thing before, only now it made sense. Mordred was after the location of the Grail he had lost. If Avery took it away, beyond the reach of any being tethered to the Earth, Mordred would never get his hands on it again. Maybe, eventually, the old vampire would stop looking.

  “He will come here,” Avery said, assessing his thoughts. “Mordred will find us here at Broceliande, if he isn’t here already.”

  “Then we must see that he doesn’t find what he seeks.”

  Avery’s hand was on his sleeve, resting lightly. “You can find it? You can find the Grail? Take me there, Rhys. Make me welcome. The Grail has to be given up willingly. I’m finished with taking what others don’t want to give up.”

  Rhys thought of his six brothers, now going by the names of Lance, Mason, Ladd, Christopher, Alexander, Griffin...and what they’d say about an angel taking over as Grail Guardian. He supposed that when Avery showed up they’d be as surprised as he had been.

  All seven K
nights had to be in accord in order to relinquish the vessel, but they didn’t have to be present. Only with a full mental accord could the Grail be released from its place of repose.

  He was already stripping off his coat and his shirt. Bare-chested, angry, wary of everything he’d heard tonight, Rhys offered his back to Avery while the power of the Blood Knights again surged to the surface.

  Avery let out a breath. “The sigils are moving.”

  “The symbols on my back will lead us there,” he said.

  “All this time, your marks were a map,” Avery whispered, tracing the scrolls with the tip of her finger.

  Rhys knew that when he exposed that secret, the other Knights would be alerted and on guard. Mason LanVal, brother, Knight, Grail keeper, Guardian and the strongest of the Blood Knights, was the Grail’s current champion. Some called him the Guardian of the Night.

  Distantly, with nothing more than a thought and an angel’s brief touch, Rhys felt Mason’s attention turn his way. His sigils responded with a new flare of heat. Avery stepped back.

  “Close,” he said. “All this time, it was closer than anyone would have guessed.”

  Taking Avery’s hand in his and calling on the power the Makers had mistakenly given him that had served his vows well, Rhys called up the thunder in his soul. With his sigils pulsing, he and Avery headed out to find where in France the Grail was hidden...knowing that place wasn’t far.

  Chapter 26

  The wings on Avery’s back fluttered softly, the life in them making a slow comeback. They still felt weighty, and she was no longer used to the need to balance them, which made walking difficult.

  What was left of the night was cool. There was no breeze. She and Rhys walked for what seemed like hours, but that couldn’t have been the case since dawn hadn’t yet arrived.

  Close, Rhys had said. The Grail was close by. She didn’t like the possible repercussions of that. If Mordred was here and got wind of where they were headed, the next battle would be the worst. Spilling immortal blood on the chalice would bring down the wrath of the heavens, and no one, be it angel, Blood Knight or ancient vampire, would want to witness that.

  She followed Rhys closely, observing how his skin gleamed in the moonlight. The dark, intricate marks on his neck and upper back continued to move, as if, like her wings, his marks were alive. But that had to be an illusion, she reasoned, since those symbols had been deeply etched into his skin.

  She shelved the impulse to run her hands over all that fine molded flesh and tamped down the urge to run her tongue along the curved edge of each muscle’s perfection. She tried to focus on what they might find ahead, but kept coming back to the way Rhys’s golden-brown hair, longer now in his latest incarnation, softly caressed the ridges of his shoulders.

  Who couldn’t have noticed how gracefully fluid this Knight was in motion?

  He had faced his Maker in that blasted cavern, and Mordred had chosen to run rather than go up against the sheer brilliance of this Blood Knight. All seven of the Knights, together at the same time, could have ruled the world if they had chosen to. People might have thought them gods. Instead, the Seven hugged the shadows, remained separated from each other and did their best to keep out of sight in an endless, ceaseless circle of life.

  Rhys...

  Rhys would walk this Earth forever.

  When he slowed, Avery slowed with him. His head tilted. He was listening to a sound she strained to hear. The forest had grown thicker, making it impossible to see anything beyond the unending labyrinth of trees. She heard nothing at all, and quickly realized why Rhys had hesitated. It was the total absence of sound he was tuning in to. The forest had gone quiet. No hint of bugs. No birds. No rustle of leaves.

  When Rhys stopped walking, Avery’s alert system kicked into high gear. Her fingers tightened on the hilt of the knife she held ready at her side.

  “We wait.” His voice was low, like sifting gravel.

  She didn’t have to ask what they were waiting for. Avery also felt the soundless vibration of something moving in the periphery. That vibe didn’t tell her whether the moving presence was going to appear, or if it would be on their side if it did. Mordred making an appearance would have fired off a hundred inner alarms. This was different.

  Two deep breaths later, Avery recognized why. As the new vibration connected with hers, she muttered, “Knight.”

  “Yes,” Rhys agreed without taking his attention from the trees. “Blood brother.”

  Relief was short-lived. The brother Rhys was speaking of was the least familiar to her of all of them. This warrior possessed the kind of power that enabled him to pass in the darkness undetected by all but a chosen few. Animals, birds and insects either feared him or became quietly reverent when he drew near. This was the raven-haired brother Rhys had called Guardian of the Night. It seemed now that he was also the Keeper of the Grail.

  Instinctively, Avery moved closer to Rhys without sheathing her knife. If, due to the nature of her quest, they weren’t welcome here, she hoped to regain enough of her balance to make a convincing statement to the contrary.

  “Avery,” Rhys said with a nod of his handsome head. “It’s all right. I promise.”

  With tight, cautious control over her nerves, Avery watched and waited for another of Broceliande’s creatures to show himself.

  When he did, the impact of his appearance drove the breath from her lungs.

  * * *

  Rhys didn’t have time to hold out a hand in greeting. Mason LanVal, much changed since they last saw each other and more formidable than Rhys remembered, stood in front of them with a finger held to his lips.

  They had faced so many battles together in the past, always fighting side by side. Seen here, wearing jeans and a faded blue shirt, the image Mason presented didn’t begin to take the edge off the special being those clothes contained. No matter what else they both were, or how long they had been apart, Rhys was glad to see Mason.

  Long, shaggy hair, the color of night, curtained a bronzed, angular face. Sinewy muscle threatened to tear apart the seams of his shirt. Light-colored eyes were trained on Rhys intently.

  Avery whirled around to glance behind them. She also now perceived a further disturbance in the forest atmosphere.

  Mason beckoned with a gesture that meant they were to follow him. No greetings were spoken. Not one word was said out loud.

  “Come, brother,” Mason silently sent. “It would seem that we have more than one unexpected guest tonight.”

  “The Maker,” Rhys returned, glimpsing the trouble at hand.

  “Maker?” Mason repeated the word as if it left a bad taste in his mouth. “What a surprise. I just got rid of one of those bastards, and now we have another one? It would seem they lied to us, brother.”

  “He wants what is hidden.”

  “Don’t they all?”

  Avery hadn’t been introduced to Mason, and Rhys was sorry for that. Mason, however, didn’t question Rhys’s choice of a companion. None of the Seven would have purposefully brought danger to the Grail site, exposing the secrecy they had worked so hard and long to maintain.

  “You got rid of another?” Rhys silently asked.

  Mason nodded without explaining, saving that story for later.

  Tonight, Mordred was going to push his luck, and Rhys was determined to end that vampire’s reign, once and for all.

  They walked on, Mason in front, Avery in the middle, Rhys bringing up the rear. He doubted if Mordred could sense them, since the lying beast wasn’t yet close.

  The forest thinned slightly when they came to a dirt road that was heavily rutted. Rhys raised an eyebrow when Mason turned.

  “Wolves that way,” Mason said aloud, waving a hand to the south. “The remains of an old chateau lie to the north.”

  �
�I take it we’re going to the chateau,” Rhys said. “You live there?”

  Mason shook his head. “It’s where I found the other one.”

  Rhys said, “The other Maker?”

  “Vampire maker,” Mason said. “Isn’t that what they became?”

  “So you know about that.” It was the first time Avery had spoken.

  Mason’s gaze drifted to her. “I know far more than I’d like to, angel.”

  Avery didn’t respond unfavorably to the intensity of Mason’s attention. It was likely, Rhys thought, she wasn’t often intimidated. But then, her blood ran in Mason’s veins as well as in Rhys’s. As with himself, part of Mason’s strength was due to that blood.

  Standing tall, with her bare arms tense and her hands at her sides, she said, “Does the item you’ve hidden draw them here without the bloodsuckers knowing the reason?”

  “Perhaps,” Mason replied.

  “I have come to take it away,” Avery said.

  “I know that,” Mason returned. “I’ve wondered how long it would take one of you to get here.”

  Rhys wasn’t quite as taken aback by that disclosure as he should have been. Through the marks carved into him that connected all the Knights, blood to blood, Mason must have discerned their approach and the reason for this visit. The Grail’s Guardian had been waiting a long time.

  “I have seen you,” Mason said to Avery as he started walking along the old road.

  Avery was silent. She was contemplating Mason’s remark.

  “Or thought I had seen you,” Mason amended. “I see now it wasn’t a dream.”

  “You will let me take it?” Avery asked. Her question was backed by a steely determination to counter any argument Mason might put up.

  “Hell, I will gladly hand the damn thing over,” Mason said, “if it means a few moments of peace.”

  “Don’t you mean millennia?” Rhys suggested.

  “Oui,” Mason agreed. “Haven’t we all wondered what a long, lengthy span of peace would be like, even while knowing we must move on to other things?”

  The first distant sound reached them before they had gone far, echoing in the rapidly diminishing dark with a familiar, haunting chill.