Invisible (The Curse of Avalon Book 1)

by Sariah Skye

  I tried not to frown, instead I just offered a defiant, “Fuck you.”

  She laughed, shaking her head with misguided…affection. She closed the distance between us and attempted to touch the outline of my cheek. I yanked away, but not before spitting at her.

  She wasn’t angered at all, instead she just laughed hysterically. “Oh, Ava! It’s that spirit that makes you the perfect fit for this!”

  “Do not touch her.” A menacing voice boomed throughout the cave.

  My head snapped to Mathias’ direction in the corner. “Mathias? You’re okay?”

  He nodded once, grumbling. “Do not listen to anything she says. It’s all a trick. Anything she says is a lie.”

  “Clearly,” I retorted, narrowing my eyes at her.

  “Oh, dear Septimus.” She glided over to him in his respective corner, as he glowered.

  “That is no longer my name.” Mathias threatened. I could see his strength building underneath his shirt; his eyes burning with the fires of rage. But try as he might, he could not pull out of the restraints either. He winced, as the ropes dug into his wrists, and he shrank in size.

  “No one can use their magic here, including your bizarre ability, Septimus,” she said. “Each vine has been treated with each of your respective anti-magics. Your kryptonite, if you will.”

  Mathias raised a brow, still struggling to no avail. “How did you know my name? And my ability? I know Ava didn’t tell you…”

  She giggled. “Oh, goodness, no! You see…we’ve met before.” She winked one of her eyes, waving her hands over her face. Mathias and I both gasped in unison, as her appearance changed once more.

  “You are Morgaine!” Mathias’ face darkened, and he inhaled deeply. “I was cursed by this…this…evil witch!”

  “Aw…evil witch? I’m flattered!” My mother—errr…Morgaine, whoever the fuck she was—put a hand to her heart.

  “It wasn’t a compliment!” Mathias grumbled.

  “Yes, you’ll find I know all of you personally—though how you all found each other—well that’s a surprise to me. Including how you met my daughter.” She threw up her hands and shrugged. “Nevertheless, I’m the witch that cursed each of you, and countless others over the years. But you are the only ones that remain.”

  “I will kill you. Someday, Morgaine…I will tear you apart limb from limb.” He glowered at my mother, the evil witch, before his expression softened briefly, and glanced across the room at me cautiously. “I’m sorry, Ava…I know she’s your mother, but—”

  I burst out laughing. “Mother? A mother doesn’t kidnap her child and use her for some fucked up witch ceremony. That’s not a mother! But you’ll have to get in line, because I get first dibs at her throat!” I glared directly at her.

  She feigned a hurt expression. “Aw, after everything I have done for you, Avie, this is how you treat me? This is just as much for you as it is me!”

  “Ha! Then why tie me up? If it’s such a good thing, then you would have told me about it long ago, and I’d be willing already, right?”

  “Sound logic, but there is no logic with you, Avie.”

  “Do. Not. Call. Me. Avie!” I hissed through clenched teeth.

  She rolled her eyes, and brushed me off with a dismissive gesture. “Oh stop.” She wandered about the room, inspecting this or that, kicking at each of the incubi’s feet to make sure they were still asleep, but avoided Mathias. “You always scared me a bit, I have to admit,” she said, shying away from him.

  “Good.” His voice was foreboding.

  “Your threats will do you no good. In about thirty minutes, you’ll be dead, and the spell will be complete. Avalon will be resurrected, finally.” She sauntered away from him, clapping in front of the dais, and motioning for her hag sisters to join her around the circle. “Now, I’m afraid, dear Ava, this is really going to hurt.”

  The sister hags all joined hands, and began to vocalize.

  I shied away from the piercing noise. Their voices were shrill, and loud—reverberating off the stone walls. I desperately wished I could cover my ears. The best I could clench my arms over my ears, as they hung above me. It wasn’t enough to drown out the banshee-like screams.

  My mother placed a black cloth over the “grail,” and ceremoniously emptied the contents of several of the bottles over it. She swirled her hands around it, speaking an unfamiliar language in muffled tones. She reached for a sharp, white dagger—that was probably made from bone—and held it above her. All of them looked at it with reverence, bowing their heads; their shrieking lowering in pitch, but not volume.

  “This is the bone of the first mother of Avalon; draw forth our powers, beseech us your gifts once again!” Without flinching, she drew the sharp edge against the palm of her hand, and sighed with pleasure as she turned it over, spilling her blood on top of the cloth.

  “Dude, that’s weird,” I commented in disgust. My mother never flinched, and handing off the bone knife to the nearest sister. They remained shrieking, while slicing themselves with the knife, and bloodletting from their hands onto the cloth. Each sister had considerably less blood fall from their outstretched hands, but all of them sighed with just as much pleasure as they ‘sacrificed’ their blood.

  I struggled not to gag at the scent of iron and rot that emanated from them. Spewing now would be counterproductive, and painful. If this was going to hurt, I needed my wits about me as much as I could. At some point, there had to be an opportunity to get free. There had to be. A point where someone was distracted, a time when someone messed up. Somehow, I’d find a way to capitalize on that.

  My mother hovered her palms over the cloth, and chanted in the same unfamiliar language.

  I called to Mathias, “Do you know what she’s saying?”

  “No. It’s the ritual speech of the Avalonians…only the witches who reside there know the language. No outsiders have ever spoken it,” he replied.

  My mother turned in his direction, and hissed. “Enough!” Well, that word was plain as day.

  She took the cloth and help it upright, still dripping with all the oils and blood that had collected upon it. She slowly walked with it towards me, and I pulled away as much as I could.

  “No way…” I said, as she leaned over to place the putrid cloth over my upper body. She removed the blanket from earlier, incinerating it with a flick of her magic. I gagged, as the malodorous material was placed over my breasts, and was barely long enough to reach down to the middle of my stomach. The scent was worse than anything I could have ever imagined: burning and rotting flesh, moldy sage, ozone, and sweaty feet.

  This time, I couldn’t hold in my retch. I dry heaved as the liquid from it, dripped down my stomach, and I tried to shake my rump to keep it away from my private area. Somehow, the thought of it touching my most sensitive part just seemed that much more awful and disgusting.

  “You don’t have to do this, Morgaine! Take me instead!” Mathias called, as he battled against the vines.

  She shook her head. “Enough!” She spoke the same language to the ominous red man that stood behind him. He drew out a long, twisted sword from an invisible sheath at his side. He nodded once. “You and I both know that it has to be her! You’re strong, oh yes, but not enough to take the power. For the same way that you could bed her, and regain your energy without harming her—is the same reason she is the only one who can take the power. One more word out of turn from you, Septimus, and you’ll die first.”

  To prove his point, the red demon man sliced the tip of his sword across his chest. His eyes widened, and bulged, as it left a trail of smoke before bleeding. He howled loudly in obvious pain.

  “Mathias?” Trystan roused from the opposite corner, and Bash shortly after.

  “What’s—” Bash began, before he was interrupted by Xander.

  Xander’s fingers flung open, trying to summon his storm magic. But even if he could, there was no weather down here to call from.

  My mother nodded once
, and the remaining devil men drew their own weapons; swords, a mace, and even a whip. They all slashed their weapons against the three incubi, causing Bash, Trystan, and Xander to cry out with the same agonizing screams.

  “No!” I cried out, flailing, trying to shake the cloth off me.

  My mother held up two hands, and I became immobile; the guys silent but open-mouthed.

  She chanted the same language, and slowly opened the lid to the supposed ‘grail.’

  “Get ready, Ava! This is it!” Mist and smoke from the ancient bowl swirled around the ritual table aimlessly, until the lid was completely removed. She set it gently to the side, and vocalized loudly, lifting her hands up in the air.

  I watched all four men around me wide eyed, struggling, mouthing curses or ineffective pleas.

  The mist ambled about the room for a minute, permeating the stale air of the cavern, before seeking out what it was looking for:

  Me.

  It sought me out, and in a split second, poured into my chest through the ritual cloth.

  I screamed as it penetrated my skin, and my chest, the pain nothing more than a prick at first before increasing tenfold as it invaded my body.

  CHAPTER 33

  Don’t give up, Ava.

  The masculine voice whispered in my mind as my vision blurred. The mist of the Avalon power was no joke, I knew that now. It was real. Inside my mind I saw that same path again, as I did when I was in the dark room from earlier. But it was dark, and I was alone.

  The power from the grail had penetrated—violated—every pore of my body, from the follicles on my head, to the tips of my fingers, inside to the smallest cell. My very being was being changed—warped—with this ancient power. It burned, it singed away at my soul; every bit of me felt like I was being ripped apart. At first it was dull and hot, before becoming piercing and cold. I couldn’t see anything around me—for real—but somehow I struggled to remember various things that helped keep me grounded. From losing myself.

  The feel of Sierra’s soft fur as she’d rub against me, begging for a scratch.

  The grin on Summer’s face after I told a joke; my best friend.

  The feel of Mathias’ pecs under my hands. The way he smelled…tasted.

  Xander’s sexy, sideways smile that made me weak in the knees…his gentle lips against mine…

  Bash’s vulnerability, and toughness in contrast. The need behind his kiss, and the pain.

  Trystan’s laid-back demeanor, his smile when talking to his beloved creatures, the feral hunger when we kissed that felt like just hours ago…

  Yes, Ava. Remember. Remember the good things.

  Along the path beneath the canopy of trees—I knew now it was Avalon—a figure stood between the mists. A handsome, regal face, with familiar blue eyes and sandy blonde hair—much like mine. He wore a yellow and blue cloak; shiny silver armor, and held a long, silver sword with a single blue stone in the hilt. It shimmered and sparkled, even in the dim light around us.

  “Who…” I blinked slowly, confused. “I’ve seen you before.”

  The man grinned pleasantly. “You have, Ava. I’ve been with you for a long time, even though you haven’t seen me but maybe once. Even though you didn’t know who I was. I’ve been there. I’d never leave you.”

  I searched his familiar face. His smile held the laughs of a hundred joyful moments, his blue eyes the stories of a thousand lifetimes. I saw myself in his eyes, as he released the sword hilt, and outstretched a hand to me.

  I gasped as it came to me. “Dad?”

  He nodded, his eyes brimming with tears. “Yes, Ava. I’ve waited so long to come to you, to have you finally see me. I’m sorry it’s been so long but—”

  My lower lip trembled. Any pain I felt coursing through my body melted away, as he opened his arms. I flung myself into them, not caring about the cold feel or harshness of his armor. “I can’t believe it’s you! After all this time!”

  “I know, Ava, my strong, strong girl. I’ll explain everything to you in due time, but for now—I need you to do something for me,” he said earnestly, frantically stroking my head, and squeezing me close to him.

  I looked up at him through the blurry tears, hastily wiping them away. “I’m not sure I can.” I remembered the pain I was supposed to be feeling, and I shook as it attempted to take me over again.

  He grasped me tightly by the shoulders. “No, Ava. You are strong. You can beat it. I know you can. Just remember all you have waiting for you after this is over. If you can keep true to yourself, you can bring me to you.”

  I cocked my head to the side, confused. “How is that possible? She’s in control of all the magic!”

  My father released me, and reached for the sword that rested against him. He gripped at the blue stone that rested in the hilt, and pulling with his might, removed it from the metal. He reached now for my hand, and placed the lone gem in my palm, curling my fingers around it. “This is all that remains of the sword of Excalibur. We are connected since my greatest friend, Arthur, gifted it to me on his deathbed. Only the wielder can bestow it onto someone of his choosing, at the time of his death which is how I came to own it. Take the stone, and think of all the good in your life, and think of me right now. I know it’s hard to believe, but I’ve been following you your entire life indirectly. I was there that day in that horrid teacher’s classroom, when you were about to lose it. I helped shield you, when your magic faltered.”

  I gasped. “That was—you? I thought that was me?”

  “It was you. But I just helped, you needed it. No one was going to get away with making my girl so terrified.” His face was serious with frustration at the memory. “I did place some laxative in his coffee later though, just for effect,” he added, with a wink.

  I laughed freely. “I didn’t know that! Really?”

  “Oh yes. I’ve been looking out for you a long time. That’s why I made sure you were introduced to Septimus—errr, sorry, Mathias. And his friends. I knew that they could protect you in a way that I couldn’t, all the time.”

  My mouth fell open slowly. “That was you?”

  “More or less. But enough of that…” we glanced around us, the mist began to brighten and thicken. “The spell is almost complete. I’m afraid I wasn’t in time to help keep you from the magic, but at least I can free you from its full effects. If you think about this stone in your hand,” he outstretched my fingers again, running a fingertip over its smooth facets, “it will appear, wherever you are, and it will call to me. I will be there, and we’ll save your friends. I promise.”

  “But—my mother… she’ll—” I began.

  “No. She cannot touch me. I’ve always been immune to her wiles,” he said with a grin.

  My brow furrowed, confused. “Who are you? Are you—Sir Lancelot? Really?”

  He bowed at the waist. “At your service, milady.”

  My eyes widened. “You—how—you’re an incubus?”

  He glowered. “Yes. A curse from your mother for denying her affections.”

  “Did you know she was Morgaine when you…” I cringed, thinking of them getting it on with each other.

  He shook his head quickly. “Oh no. She’s a master of glamour. She can alter her appearance as easily as changing a dress. But I’ll explain later. We have to hurry. In our world now, I go by the name Lachlan Steele.” The mist swirled and wound around us, nearly blinding me from my father in front of me. “I will see you shortly. Just hold this stone in your hand, and think of me…” his voice trailed off to silence as the mist’s power overtook him, obscuring him from view.

  “No! But how will the stone be there, if it’s here?” I called after him, confused.

  The pain began to infiltrate my mind, and my vision blurred again as the bright white of the powerful mist blinded me.

  Think of me. Keep thinking of me, of the stone. I will be there…My father’s words hung on the wind like a breathless whisper, as I was transported out of the vision.


  CHAPTER 34

  My eyes struggled to open against the blinding white in the cave. The pain stabbed at my pores, making me writhe and convulse, struggling against the invading magic. But as I squirmed, the cold weight of something solid in my left hand kept me grounded.

  I managed to open one eye, briefly catching the blue sparkle of a gem embedded in my grip. My hands were still bound, and tied together but the gem’s glow shone through the cracks of my fingers.

  And I remembered.

  My father’s face—frickin’ Sir Lancelot! —entered my mind, and I remembered his comforting, low voice, and the feel of his smooth armor against my cheek.

  Please be here…please be here! I pleaded in my mind, recalling the sword he held against him.

  The sound of my mother’s voice became frantic; though I couldn’t see her through the blinding light of the magic, I knew she was near to finishing the ritual. The cries of the four men—my unlikely companions—rang out against my ears.

  Please be here! Please help me save them! I pleaded.

  “MORGAINE!” The sound of my father’s voice filled the room, surprising me. A loud, deafening boom echoed through the chambers.

  The glaring light was pierced, and began to split, revealing my father, Lancelot (or Lachlan, whatever), who now suddenly stood just in front of me.

  My mother stopped chanting, and swiveled around quickly. Her eyes agog with surprise upon my father’s sudden appearance. “Lancelot? But, what are you doing here? How?”

  The magic that had been pouring out of the grail began to falter. It darted around from body to body, looking for a suitable host, while one stream of it still was connected to me. Another sought out my mother, and she screamed in shock and pain as it invaded her body too.

  The magic struggled, faltered between us.

  My father wasted no time. He quickly gained his bearings, and took out a small knife from a holster at his waist. Even though he was no longer clothed in his armor—but a plain, button-up blue shirt, blue jeans, and boots—I knew it was him. His face was unmistakably familiar, like looking in a mirror.