by Sariah Skye
“Or she is a bloody demon,” Trystan muttered in dismay.
“Or that.”
“Could she be working with Morgaine, somehow?” Xander suggested.
Rhys laughed obnoxiously. “There’s no way! I don’t think…”
“They really seemed to have a lot of animosity towards each other, so, I don’t know…” I was unconvinced. “Maybe she’s using Morgaine’s glamour as her own. She had of been if she was that seductress singing at the party.”
“Not probable; without siphoning essence from anyone, there’s no way she can hold that glamour for long.” Rhys said thoughtfully. “But, Morgaine is clearly an expert liar, so…”
“So is Nadina.” Trystan shook his head. “Maybe that’s why she’s after the humans. She’s siphoning crap from them.”
“A possibility,” Rhys groused.
“So, where do we stand now?” Mathias turned back to us, frowning. “We know Nadina is hiding her identity or something, somehow… she may or may not be a witch or a cambion… and oh! There’s this great spell that’s supposed to solve everything, only no one knows where it is!” He threw up his hands in exasperation. “This is just great!”
“You forgot about the fact that there is a madman from another realm hell-bent on world domination,” Xander said, making a snide smile.
“Fuck me.” Mathias started banging around on the stove.
“Crap, he’s stress cooking,” Trystan said. Mathias just reached around and flicked him off.
Rhys had been pondering quietly before he finally supplied, “The only person that might know about the witches is Igraine. Don’t suppose you’ve talked to her lately?”
I shrugged. “Just little bits and pieces here and there. I haven’t had any dreams or visions about it in a while.”
Xander mumbled under his breath; I don’t know what he said, it was in Chinese, but it definitely wasn’t complimentary. He jumped out of the chair, went for the fridge, and pulled out his own beer. “Trystan’s right, this requires a drink.”
He wasn’t wrong. Besides getting it on with Mathias, getting drunk suddenly sounded like the best idea so far that day.
Chapter Thirty-Four
We’d spent the afternoon checking out various cars around the Cities. Most of them were duds, but this one stood out.
“You like it?” Trystan asked, as I walked the length of the shiny, black Dodge Charger, looking it over. I grinned and nodded. It was pretty. And my car now was a piece of shit.
Bash was currently poised over the hood, pointing out this and that, and grilling the man—he was probably my age, or late twenties—about every little alteration he had made. The seller, who was no slight slip of a man himself, average height and stocky with dark hair and eyes, seemed infinitely intimidated by not only Bash, but all the guys. If he was this terrified of them, it was probably a good thing Mathias didn’t come along. He probably would have shit his pants.
It didn’t help that Bash literally grilled him like the Spanish Inquisition. Any time he tried to lie, Bash quickly caught on. Finally, he was admitting everything, from the Bondo on the door, to the fact he hadn’t replaced the air filter in about a year. Xander was inside the driver’s seat, messing with all the little bells and whistles to make sure everything worked.
“Why are you selling this then, if you like the car so much?” Bash asked the man suspiciously, puffing out his chest and drumming the fingers of his right hand on his left bicep. All three guys took it upon themselves to wear the tightest shirts possible—Trystan of course opting for a tank, despite the fact it was fifty degrees out—that showed off every damn little sinful chisel of muscle on their bodies.
“My wife.” The man’s face sank at the mention of her. “We need the money for a van; new baby coming.”
Bash set his mouth in a firm line. “Congrats. Will you take seventeen thousand for it?”
I gasped. I didn’t agree to that much, but Trystan just nudged me. “Don’t worry about it,” he whispered. I knew I had the money for it; hell it was burning a hole currently in my pretty purple Vera Bradley bag at my side but… still.
The man looked horrified. “But—all the upgrades—”
“—actually detract from the vehicle’s value. Not to mention we’ll spend another week removing all the stupid show-boater shit, just to make it worth that much. Take it or leave it. Straight up cash on the spot.” I didn’t know if any of that was true, but Bash’s tone was intimidating and stern. I tried not to chuckle out loud because I knew better.
“The mileage is a bit high for the year, too,” Xander supplied, climbing out of the car and taking his turn to glower at him.
The man, looking like he was going to piss his pants, glanced back at his wife, a pretty and very pregnant brunette, standing in the garage, glowering at him. “Who, ah, is going to be driving it?”
“Our girlfriend,” Bash answered, the hint of a smirk on his lips.
“Our—your—all of—” the man stammered, laughing uncomfortably.
“Aye, ye heard us, laddie.” Trystan made a point of crooking his elbow just so that it looked like he was inadvertently flexing his bicep. I swear, the guy was about ready to lose his lunch. The wife, though, looked pleased.
“It’s a fair offer,” Xander said. “You can have cash in hand now and still have time to run to the dealership to put a nice down payment on a new Caravan. Your choice, bro.”
The man dragged his hands through his hair, looking tormented. He sighed and held out his hand to Bash. “Deal.”
Bash grasped it firmly, nearly giving the guy a heart attack. “Give us the title and we’ll give you the cash.” Bash nodded me over, and the man handed me the title from his back jeans pocket, and a pen. I quickly signed it, followed by him, and pulled the envelope of cash out of my purse, carefully counting out the right amount—I still had three thousand left over, and the guy nearly cried; thinking that’s what I’d been prepared to offer and he’d been low-balled.
Xander jangled the keys from the ignition and tossed them to me. “Congrats, qīn'ài de.”
I grinned widely.
“You know, I can take the stereo out real quick. It’s complicated and loud, you probably don’t want that in there. The speakers and whatnot are pretty easy to—” Immediately I narrowed my eyes.
“What did you say?” I demanded.
“I just thought—”
Trystan let out a howl of laughter. “Oh laddie, now you’ve done it.”
“Did what?”
“You’ll see.”
I glared at the man so hard I nearly sprained my forehead. “Why would you think I wouldn’t want a sweet ass stereo system, bro? Just because I’m a woman? Women can’t listen to loud-ass music?” Scowling, I turned away, title in hand and stormed to the driver’s side. But I paused to kick at the ridiculous rims; the guy winced visibly. A quick sweeping glance over at his wife indicated she was enjoying this immensely. “These are ridiculous, though. Those are first to go.”
He whimpered, especially when I slid into the driver’s side, and glared pointedly at him.
“Life lesson, laddie,” Trystan said, gently patting the man on the shoulder. “Never underestimate the women. They know where you sleep and have access to your food.” He slapped him once more for good measure on the back. “We’ll mail you the rims.”
“Don’t you dare!” The wife shouted back, and I laughed wildly. Trystan slid into the passenger’s side, and Bash climbed into the back. We’d taken Xander’s Subaru out since it was the roomiest besides Mathias’, and he followed behind.
But I triumphantly hooked my cell to the Bluetooth, turned on my music app, and blared the first song available; it was “Thunder” by Imagine Dragons, clearly, Xander was messing with my phone last and that was his favorite… oh the unsubtle irony. It was so damn loud my ears rung, but it drove the point home. Don’t underestimate the women.
I had a hard time keeping the correct speed, anytime I hit the gas th
e car just wanted to soar. We were halfway back to Wild when Bash smacked Trystan in the shoulder to turn the music down.
“What did you say, now?” Bash said, his face was stone-cold serious as he waited for the caller to speak. His mouth dropped open, and he said simply, “Fuck.”
“What?” Trystan demanded, and Bash waved him off frantically. “Yeah. Yeah I get it. We’re almost home.” He ended the call, tossing the phone forcibly on the seat in back. “Shit! Shit shit shit shit!”
“The hell? Spit it out!” Trystan demanded.
“Mathias finished with his stuff early and decided to head out to your dad’s house, Ava,” he explained grimly. “The house was gone.”
“Gone?” I repeated in disbelief.
“What do ya mean, gone?” Trystan was confused.
“Like as in gone, not there. The whole thing was gone. Not just empty, but the entire house was just not there!”
“Fuck!” Feeling suddenly rattled, I hit my hazards and pulled over to the shoulder, Xander pulling up soon after. Tears stung in my eyes; I didn’t know what it meant, but it didn’t sound good.
“Something wrong with the car?” Xander asked after getting out of his car and coming up to us. Bash shook his head.
“Lachlan’s house is just gone.”
“What?”
“Are we sure Mathias had the right spot? Or that it wasn’t warded somehow invisible?” Trystan wondered.
“It’s possible, but…” Bash was unconvinced.
Trystan patted my leg, I looked up at him through teary eyes. “Let me drive home, huh?”
I nodded and climbed over into the passenger seat. Bash leaned forward and set his chin on my shoulder, and as Trystan drove he gripped my hand.
I didn’t know what this meant. But somehow I knew that without a doubt, it wasn’t good.
Chapter Thirty-Five
“Don’t jump to conclusions yet, Avie,” Mathias said with concern when we’d arrived home. He must have had an idea I’d be weirded out because he had a pint of ice cream and all the toppings waiting for me. I stabbed at the cookies-n-cream with my spoon; I was having a hard time eating it, the nerves were jumbled up inside like butterflies trapped in spiderwebs. I glanced up at him though, appreciatively. His hair was shorter than this morning, still faded up the sides and longer on top, swooped straight back but full of volume near the front. Damn, I thought to myself, he really does have amazing hair. So, clearly his “business” involved a haircut.
“Yeah, for all we know it was spelled that way to vanish when unoccupied so long,” Bash said sympathetically, though his expression betrayed him and I don’t think he believed that.
I sighed lengthily. “Well, hopefully it doesn’t mean anything. It’s not like he was there, anyhow,” I said listlessly. Shit, it was unbelievable how much I missed him.
But before the tears could start, my phone trilled from inside my purse. Xander retrieved it for me from the sofa and I smiled thankfully. Yanking it from a pocket, the display lit up, indicating a text message from Summer.
Damn, your boyfriend has some nice hair!
Cocking a brow, I typed in quickly, Sure they do. Which one though? I snorted. Only one of them had had a haircut today.
The big one. Followed by half a dozen winking emoticons.
I stared at Mathias. “You went to Summer to get your hair cut?”
For some reason, his face flushed. “Well, you know… keep it in the family, and all.”
“Right.” Before I had a chance to inquire, Summer sent another message.
He’s up to something, just so you know. More winking emoticons.
What!?! And no more messages. I set the phone down on the counter and eyed Mathias suspiciously. “What did you do?”
He laughed awkwardly. “Well, I’ll just get upstairs and change before dinner—”
“Oh hell no, you’re gonna come clean, you Roman bas—” but before I could even get out of my chair, the Roman bastard with the super-speed was already gone. “Damn him,” I cursed.
Bash and Trystan exchanged glances with each other. They both tried to appear innocent as Bash nudged Xander. What that was about, I didn’t know…
“Well, it’s Sunday night so…” Xander hinted playfully at me.
“Hey, you could come, you know,” I said to Bash, a devious grin on my face.
Trystan had been heading to his bedroom when he stopped in his tracks, throwing us a look over his shoulder. “Say again?” I knew he knew about our threesome, but hearing the invitation out loud was probably… surprising.
We looked anywhere but him.
“You could come too!” I said to Trystan, as Xander and Bash nearly fell over from shock.
“Maybe next time…” his voice was playfully dark as he sauntered into the hallway. There was a shout and he exclaimed, “Hey ya ruddy magical bastard, what ye doing?”
Rhys let out a shriek, and I knew Trystan had caught him in the act of watching porn on the computer.
“How does it feel, eh?” Trystan shouted, laughing maniacally. “Och, pull yer damn pants up!”
I nudged Xander. “Let’s get outta here before we get dragged into this.”
“Wise decision,” he agreed.
I glanced at Bash guiltily. “Hey,” he said, “I’m not going to get in the way. I’m just going upstairs to grab laundry and I’ll be gone. Okay?”
“It’s okay,” Xander said, “really, I wasn’t going to hold you to the Sunday-thing, Avie. I was just pleased you offered.”
“Nonsense!” I protested. “I said it, and I meant it!”
“Well if you don’t, I will.” Bash waggled his eyebrows; his icy eyes were full of mischief as he eyed Xander curiously. “This is getting back at you for calling me a lousy kisser.” Xander looked confused, until Bash slapped him in the ass—hard—grabbing a couple of good handfuls and tore off, laughing wildly along the way up the stairs.
Laughing so hard I nearly choked, Xander’s face turned all sorts of red. Maybe even a little purple, too. Then he tore off after him. “Get back here you dick, I’m going to beat your ass!”
Not wanting to miss the show, I started after him, but I wasn’t very fast, obviously. As we thundered up the stairs Mathias actually peeked out of his room going, “What the hell?” He shook his head and disappeared back into his room. I didn’t even want to know what he was thinking…
Bash made a beeline for my bedroom, trying to close the door on a furious Xander before he could get through, but he was just a little faster. Bash was still laughing hysterically when I pushed past them both.
“The look on your face! Was priceless!” Bash stammered in between raucous laughs, pointing at Xander, doubling over.
Xander just glowered; his eyes were stormy with irritation.
“Awww, come on. Just kiss and make up!” I quipped, grinning widely.
The two of them glanced at each other momentarily and nodded. Bash grabbed me around the shoulders, Xander around the waist, and both of them planted kisses on my cheeks.
“Ha ha, that’s not what I—” I started to say but was suddenly distracted by a shimmering light behind me; the Round Table “portal” was opening up, somehow. I gasped, wrenching out of their grips. “Oh my god, Dad!?”
The image in the wood shimmered and blurred a bit, before an unfamiliar face not belonging to my father appeared.
“The hell are you?” I demanded. “Where is my dad?”
“That’s what I’m here for.” The man in the reflection was somehow familiar looking, with piercing blue eyes, black hair, and full lips. I couldn’t place what it was about him, though. “Lady Avalon, I presume?”
“You presume correct, now what in the hell—”
He cut me off. “I’m sorry for my rudeness, but I don’t have much time. I’m afraid things are escalating here in Camelot quite a bit. Your father, in two weeks’ time, is being executed for treason.”
All the color drained from my face. “No…”
“I’m sorry.” The reflection sighed. “I am Mordred, son of Arthur.”
“Arthur had a son?” Xander said, with a shrug.
“Wait, I thought Guinevere—” I began, but Mordred cut me off again.
“My mother is not Guinevere. My mother is Nimue, a shadow fae that has been working with my father for quite some time.” He spat the word “father” like bitter medicine. Clearly, he and Arthur weren’t on the best of terms.
“Who is Nimue? Really? Rh—Merlin has mentioned her, but no one really knows who she is. Is she even real?” Bash questioned.
“I am proof she is very real. And, afraid that she is what corrupted Arthur so entirely,” Mordred sighed.
“How?” I asked. “And what about my Dad?”
“It’s a very long story. Suffice it to say, Lady Avalon, that as a shadow fae, she originates from the same Underrealms as the demons that cursed your incubi. She has great powers, and does not use them for good, I promise. She was the one who trapped Merlin in the vessel—the grail as you call it—and she was the one to turn my father so cold; she’s manipulating him.”
“So, what do we do? How do we save Lach—err, Lancelot?” Bash asked.
“The spell. I know you’ve been told of one. You need to find it—fast. She is going to resurrect Camelot,” Mordred said.
“We’ve been trying,” Bash grumbled. “It’s not so easy.”
“I know you will find it, it’s close. It has to be.” Mordred’s image shimmered briefly.
“Wait. How can she resurrect Camelot without the spell? The spell is here, isn’t it?” Xander demanded, confused.
“Ah, one of the powers of the shadow fae is interdimensional travel; she can go between here and there, but only alone. She cannot bring anyone else with her. She’s been going back and forth between our worlds for years, trying to manipulate your father into wanting to resurrect Camelot… through you.” Mordred frowned.