Other immortals had decided they were better off giving their loyalty to Morgana. It didn’t seem to matter that the traitorous bitch had pitted her own son, Mordred, against her half-brother. Briana didn’t know if the sorceress had insisted on her son leading their army or if Mordred had advocated for the position, eager to meet his uncle on the battlefield. Arthur and Mordred had only crossed paths once during the endless fight over Camelot, in the final battle that claimed both their lives.
Since Camelot was now a cesspool of the lowest, most disreputable immortals, some thought it was better to align with a power-hungry sorceress who made it no secret she wanted to rule all of Avalon, than an unpredictable goddess who had already meddled in immortal affairs too much.
Keeping close to the wall, Briana continued her downward trek long after she knew the stairs should have ended. She glanced back at the wall sconce she just passed, noting the height and path of the melting wax on the thick candle. Moments later she passed an identical candle. And another one.
“Nice trick,” she murmured to no one in particular. Hoping she wouldn’t spend forever trying to reach the bottom, she kept moving.
Avalon’s catacombs were famous for their ever-changing tunnels that kept immortals from finding their way out. The massive amounts of magic absorbed by the sanctuary the Fae had built to escape the first Campaign left many wondering if the endless caverns were actually alive.
Having never ventured beyond any entrance to the catacombs, she couldn’t be certain she wasn’t trapped in the massive caverns below Avalon’s surface. The castle and staircase didn’t match any description Cian had shared after getting lost in the catacombs with Emma only months ago, though.
Or were they just another illusion?
She got her answer a few moments later when she reached the bottom and the stairs spilled out into a modern foyer of a mansion right out of some Beverly Hills reality show.
Briana spun around. The stone staircase was gone, replaced by a glossy white marble staircase with a polished oak railing that disappeared to a floor above.
She didn’t know whether to be impressed or creeped out, but was definitely leaning toward the latter.
Passing through a large room with a huge flat-screen television, leather furniture and a variety of gaming systems that would have made Sorcha and Nessa wet their panties, Briana paused in the doorway to a dining room.
Beyond that she found an immaculate kitchen, another entertainment room, two bathrooms and a weapons room. Given how easy the weapons were to find for someone who’d been snatched off the street, she wouldn’t be surprised if they were magically safeguarded, or like everything else, an illusion.
That didn’t stop her from strapping two daggers to her calves and tucking a gun at the small of her back. Bullets couldn’t kill an immortal unless they had the kind of firepower behind it to remove a head, but the weapons gave her a small measure of comfort.
If someone could abduct her so effortlessly—and judging by the ten chairs in the dining room she wasn’t alone—then her assailant’s magic wasn’t anything to underestimate.
Heading toward a glass door that appeared to lead outside—appeared being the key word under the circumstances—she paused in front of a mural that looked sculpted right into the wall.
Layers of paint so thick they appeared three dimensional captured a bloody battle in the midst of a storm. At first glance she thought it was the fields of Camlann, a battle her brothers had fought in, Cian right on the front lines. But when she caught a glimpse of females among those perpetually locked in battle or lay wounded or dying on the muddy earth, she realized it was a Campaign.
At one time she’d envied the women in the mortal realm who’d been able to pass themselves off as men to take up arms. As determined as she’d been to join the Guard with Cian, she’d had to settle on using her strengths as a tracker far away from the battlefield, where females supposedly didn’t belong. If there had been even a remote possibility she could have masked her scent from the rest of her race, she would have disguised herself to take up a sword for Arthur.
The women in the painting, however, didn’t fight for the ideology and peace that Arthur had brought to Avalon and Camelot. The women bravely facing down enemies in the painting fought for their lives, pawns in a war fought among the gods.
If there truly was another Campaign brewing, there wasn’t a doubt in her mind Rhiannon would expect Briana’s family to fight for her.
Dismissing thoughts of the goddess and the haunting mural, Briana slipped outside.
Warm sunshine beat down on her the moment she stepped away from the door. She closed her eyes, indulging in the feel of the skin-tingling rays that warmed her skin.
She’d only risked stealing a few precious moments of sun in recent months, not wanting anyone to know she no longer needed to turn to stone at dawn. If woman and cat had chosen anyone but Lucan as her mate, she wouldn’t have hidden the truth from her brothers.
One good thing about her unexpected disappearing act was missing out on Tristan’s reaction to the news. Cian wouldn’t be able to keep the discovery to himself for long. He hadn’t wasted any time telling Tristan and Cale after he’d learned the truth about her controlling her shift to stone. She didn’t expect less now that her brother knew exactly who her mate was.
But once they knew, how long before one of them foolishly said something to Lucan? Or had the damage already been done? By now all three of them could have cornered Lucan not realizing that the news would mean nothing to him. If he’d felt sorry for her in the alley, she didn’t want to think how he’d look at her once he knew the truth.
The sensation of being watched crawled across Briana’s skin.
Senses primed, she ventured a little closer to the wall separating the grounds from the jungle that looked to stretch on for miles. Nothing crouched above, waiting to pounce, but the tease of magic that washed over her was unmistakable.
Vines as thick as her wrist hung from blossom-covered trees that bordered the manicured lawns and courtyard. Branches reached for the top of the wall and the flowers pulsed in shades of pink, red and blue, their leaves stirring in a breeze Briana could only see but not feel.
A security system.
Anyone who thought to leave through the jungle would likely find themselves snared in a net of twisting vines—possibly poisonous ones. Maybe not lethal, but strong enough to severely weaken an immortal.
More movement to her right had her pivoting to identify the potential threat. Across the courtyard a giant fountain poured water into a wading pool. The water spilled from it into a larger one made for swimming. On the other side of the water’s glassy surface, she spotted someone through the trees.
Pulse picking up speed, she skirted the edge of the pool. Keeping the castle masking itself as a mansion—or vice versa—in her peripheral vision, she cleared the trees.
A wave of power crackled on the air, raising the hairs on the back of Briana’s neck.
The woman’s dark hair blew in another empty breeze that didn’t touch the large, black-haired immortal opposite her. Flickers of iridescent color brightened his skin.
Briana had found the dragon she’d scented earlier.
“Scared, pet?” The dragon’s tone was bored and directed at the female opposite him.
The woman—a sorceress judging by the ball of blue fire that appeared in her open palm—cocked her head. “Do you think anyone’s pet would spend thirty-five hundred dollars on a pair of boots you just singed without the courtesy of a warning first?”
Something about the way the woman held herself struck Briana as familiar. Emma?
“The fire was the warning.”
“Dragons.” The brunette rolled her eyes. “All fire and brimstone. Have a little imagination once and a while. Might help you shake that predictable reputation you have.”
“Roasting little girls like you is how I earned my reputation.”
The laughter that burst out of the s
orceress helped Briana put it together. Not Emma, but her infinitely more powerful twin sister, Elena.
“Really?” Elena stared at something on her hand. “Damn it. I just got this manicure yesterday.” She sighed. “I thought Kellagh the Black earned his reputation from abandoning his men when he realized Arthur might lose the battle of Camlann.”
The dragon betrayed no surprise that Elena had recognized him. Which was more than Briana could say for herself at hearing who the gargoyle was.
Rumors had abounded for centuries that the gargoyle traitor had become one of Morgana’s favorite mercenaries before his dragon half took over, leaving him as one of the Forgotten. Stories were still told to young ones that the bloodthirsty black dragon would snatch children right out of their bed if they didn’t mind their parents.
Kellagh the Black was here? Wherever here was.
“Briana, have you met Camelot’s feared dragon?” Elena sounded like she was talking about a harmless teddy bear.
Surprised that Emma’s twin had recognized her when they’d only met in passing once or twice, Briana only nodded. Elena wasn’t exactly one of her favorite people, seeing as the sorceress had trapped her brother Cian in his stone gargoyle form for over a hundred years. Cian had been willing to forgive her for the sake of his mate, but Briana wasn’t quite as quick to let it go.
Elena turned her back on the dragon, openly dismissing him as a threat. Her eyes narrowed at something over Briana’s shoulder. “Behind you.”
The vague warning came a heartbeat after Briana realized someone was stalking her.
“Briana!”
Lucan collided with a stone wall where the rainy street had been only moments before. Water dripped off him and the sword he’d drawn the second he’d witnessed her thrown backward.
And then she’d vanished before his eyes.
“Briana!” Ignoring the burning at his lower back from being struck by something, he spun around, scanning the unfamiliar room.
Where was he? And where the hell was Briana?
“I must have been a very good girl this year, and it’s not even Christmas yet.”
Lucan turned at the voice, spotted a woman perched on the edge of the bed next to him. He held his sword to the female’s throat. “Where is she?”
Innocent blue eyes blinked up at him before compressing ever so slightly at the corners. She lifted a hand to the sword, her fingernails grazing the blade. “Is she your female, this Briana?”
“No.” Claiming Briana that way placed an importance on her that would have too much potential to be held against them.
Ignoring the sword, the blonde peered up at him. “Then you’re fair game.” A carnal smile curved her glossy lips as a heady, sensual undercurrent hummed on the air, one that didn’t faze Lucan in the slightest. Enchantress.
He lowered his sword, but didn’t vanish it. “Did you bring me here?” As far as he knew, enchantresses didn’t have that kind of power.
She cocked her head, giving him a thorough once-over that reminded him of livestock being purchased at auction. “If I say yes, will you take off your pants?”
He gave her a hard look.
As if finally taking notice of the sword only inches from her face, her eyes widened in terror. “You’re a wraith.”
“And you’re about to tell me what the fuck is going on.”
She scrambled away from him, sliding off the massive poster bed. “I woke up here.”
“Are there others with you?”
“Like your Briana?” Disdain dripped from her words as though the enchantress had already made up her mind to hate Briana despite her apparent repulsion of him.
With a stiff nod, Lucan surveyed the room furnished similar to his old chambers in Camelot, then headed for the door.
The enchantress tripped after him, careful to keep some distance between them. “So you don’t know where we are either?”
“Not yet.”
She hesitated, then followed him
He blocked the door. “Stay here.” Here where she stood less opportunity of stabbing him in the back.
The Lady of the Lake’s wanton daughters were known to favor bed sport over other pastimes, but that didn’t mean he could dismiss her as a threat entirely. After the trouble at Pendragon’s tonight, he’d had his fill of enchantresses.
The reminder twisted him inside. The look of pain and betrayal on Briana’s face when he’d said he didn’t want to be with her, that he never had…
It wasn’t her fault that she’d been caught up in the lust-fueled magic. He should have chosen his words more carefully or waited for the spell’s effect on her to fully wear off. He shouldn’t have lashed out that way, but a spell or not, he couldn’t let her believe they could ever be together.
And then she’d been snatched away right in front of him.
If Rhiannon was responsible then he had only himself to blame. It couldn’t be a coincidence that the moment he’d dared give into the feelings Briana awakened in him, she’d been attacked and snatched away.
His fingers tightened around the hilt of his sword to the point of pain.
“You’re not leaving me here.”
Lucan ignored the enchantress, too intent on finding Briana to worry about whether the other immortal stayed or followed him.
Her steps trailed his at a cautious distance as they descended a never-ending staircase at the end of the hall. He’d purposely allowed the shadows of his phantom form to trail at his feet, guaranteeing she didn’t get too close.
Had he realized how long it would take to reach the bottom, however, he would have locked her in the wardrobe. Either the female didn’t have enough sense to be quiet, considering they’d been abducted, or she assumed talking was of no consequence when she could attempt to seduce their captor into releasing her.
Lucan half hoped a troll had been responsible. Even an enchantress, who wasn’t exactly known for being selective about who she they slept with, would struggle with seducing one of Morgana’s experimental beasts.
“Seva.”
He’d refused to respond to anything the enchantress said, hoping his silence would discourage her endless chatter. So far it hadn’t taken. Sometime during their trek down the staircase, she’d forgotten to be afraid of him. Maybe another flash of his sword would remind her.
They finally reached the bottom of the steps, and he frowned at their modern surroundings, immediately glancing at the staircase behind them that no longer looked the same.
“My name,” she clarified. “It’s Seva.”
Lucan ignored that too. He didn’t know what he was doing here, but it wasn’t to make friends. He’d find Briana and figure out a way to get her back to her brothers.
Seva moved ahead of him, straight into the kitchen. “By the gods, I’m starving. You’d be surprised how hard multiple orgasms can be on the body. I really need to get my energy levels back up.” She opened cupboard doors, then a walk-in fridge. “Jackpot,” she called out. “Are you as hungry as I am?”
He waited for her to think that through.
She finally poked her head out of the fridge, her fingers curling protectively around her throat. “Please tell me you’re not hungry.”
He deliberately let his gaze linger on her neck, then moved on to explore the remaining rooms.
“Oooo, let’s go outside. I think they’re playing games.”
Lucan swung around. “Who?” He joined her in the doorway.
“Them.” Seva walked outside ahead of him, shielding her eyes with her hand. “Do you think she knows that wolf is stalking her?”
He followed her gaze past the pool, to the trees that nearly hid a group of immortals and the wolf creeping up on a brunette with her back turned.
Briana.
Chapter Five
On instinct, Briana twisted around to face the threat, her senses locking down the scent of a wounded wolf—fresh blood and damp fur—unprepared for how close the other gargoyle was.
The im
pact knocked her backward, the wolf’s front legs like granite battering rams to her chest. Toppling backward, she managed to jam her own legs up, using her feet to throw the wolf clear of her body as she hit the ground.
Using the wolf’s momentum, she carried through on the backward somersault that left her in a crouch, her claws scraping the pavement. A glimpse of familiar, star-shaped white fur on the wolf’s hind leg kept her in place.
“Vaughn?” The cat continued to snarl in the back of her mind, but in annoyance instead of aggression. Her feline half remembered all too well the games of hide and go pounce she and Vaughn had played growing up.
She hadn’t seen him in at least two hundred years, though. Not since his parents were killed by Morgana during the last rebellion to reclaim Camelot. Arthur’s half-sister had been merciless when it came to punishing those who’d risen up against her. The dozens of gargoyles and human slaves who’d survived the unsuccessful attempt to take back their lost city had been publicly executed.
Vaughn would have died with his parents if they hadn’t begged him to get his younger sister far away from the fight when it was apparent that Morgana’s army might win.
Conscious of Elena and the dragon watching, Briana stood and approached Vaughn. He shifted back to his human form with the same iridescent shimmer that accompanied every gargoyle change. His dark hair hung in stringy pieces across his forehead, not quite hiding his intense cobalt eyes. Dirt and dried blood covered his body, but not enough to mask the scars that marred his skin.
What the hell had happened to him? Had he taken his parents place in the rebellion that, despite dwindled numbers, continued to make things difficult for Morgana?
She took a step toward him.
Lucan materialized in front of her, blocking her way as he drew his sword.
Briana sucked in a breath, her body tightening under the onslaught of surprise, relief and hurt that pummeled her. She thought she’d heard him on the street, but couldn’t quite wrap her mind around him being up here too.
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