by Keri Arthur
“Pretty good, considering. What happened here?”
As Mo filled him in, I tugged the phone out of my pocket and took several quick snaps of the various bits and pieces of paper.
“Righto,” Jason said. “We’ll take it from here. But the next time you unleash a menik, call us in on the hunt. We might have prevented all this if we’d been here.”
“I very much doubt that, dear boy, but I will attempt to let you know in the future.” Her tone suggested he shouldn’t rely on her actually doing it. “In the meantime, does the name Jules Okoro mean anything to you?”
“No.” He frowned. “Should it?”
“It was one of the names on a list we found—the same list that had both Gareth and Henry on it.”
“A hit list?”
“For a killer heir.”
“Which means Henry could still be in danger. I’ll alert the team at the hospital. What about the sister?”
“She’s safe.”
“Good.”
Mo motioned to the papers on the desk. “You might want to get the Blackbirds to have a look at this list. They used to have scholars familiar with elvish text, though I’m not sure if that’s still the case.”
“Elvish?” Jason stepped forward and looked at the papers. “Interesting. And is that a tracker sphere you’re holding?”
Surprise ran through Mo’s expression—not something that happened too often. “You know what it is?”
Jason smiled. “You don’t get to be in charge of preternatural investigations without being familiar with all forms of magic, old or new. I will admit, however, I’ve only ever read about spheres like that. There’re not many around today who can create them.”
“Up until recently, there hasn’t been a need for them.”
“Good point. I take it you’re about to track whoever unleashed the destruction here?”
“Yes. We’ll let you know if we find anything.”
“That won’t be necessary, because I’m assigning one of my men to accompany you.”
Awareness and heat prickled through me. I turned as Luc stepped into the chapel. Just for an instant, his gaze met mine and that indefinable force once again surged between us. It was far deeper than just awareness and desire now; it was almost elemental in feel, and spoke of a connection that stepped beyond the physical, beyond the emotional. It whispered of destiny and age, and of a bond not just days in the making, but years. Decades.
Centuries.
And it shook me to the core.
He felt it. That was evident in the slight widening of his eyes. But that was all the acknowledgment he allowed. His expression otherwise remained the same and the quick tattoo of his steps didn’t hesitate for even a second.
The damn man had the control of stone.
“No need,” he said. “I’ll go with them.”
“The two of us won’t fit on the back of your bike,” Mo said. “And you definitely won’t fit in the back of Ginny’s Audi.”
“Much to my eternal chagrin,” she muttered.
“Take my car,” Jason said. “I’ll arrange for your bike to be transported back to headquarters.”
“Thanks.”
Jason tossed him the car keys. “Keep us updated. These ladies seem to have trouble understanding the concept.”
“It’s an age thing,” Mo said. “I’m too old to remember, and these ladies are too young to care.”
Jason rolled his eyes and motioned us to move on. Luc spun around and led the way out. As I fell in step beside him, the connection stirred to life yet again and my pulse skipped. I did my best to ignore it and said, “Is there a Jules Okoro on your list of possible heirs?”
Luc shook his head. “Why?”
“Because he was on that family tree Jackie was working on. Given he was listed after Gareth and Henry but before Max, it’s possible he’s not only an heir, but the next one to be hit.”
“Do you remember any of the names above Gareth?” he asked.
“I only scanned it for a few seconds.” I wrinkled my nose, trying to recall. “I think it was someone called Remy or Randy or something like that, but he can’t be the one behind these murders.”
“Why not?” came Mo’s question.
“Because it appeared they were listed in age—Max is younger than either Gareth or Henry, and he was at the very bottom. Why would this Remy or Randy want to murder those younger than him?”
“Because there have been instances where the sword has deemed the firstborn son unworthy,” Mo said.
“Uhtric was one case in point, as I mentioned earlier,” Luc added. “He was third in line, but the sword reacted to him over either of his older brothers and he subsequently became king.”
“Given how tenuous the Okoro link is, let alone the De Montfort,” Ginny said, “why are they coming after either line? Why not hit the direct descendants first?”
“There’s obviously a link we’ve all missed somewhere,” Luc said. “If we could track down your family’s bible, we might have a better idea of what’s going on.”
“I did ask Dad about it,” Ginny said. “He vaguely remembers seeing it in a cousin’s house, but that was years ago and the cousin has since moved to Australia. He’s trying to find him.”
Mo grunted. “Well, that would certainly explain why no one can find the thing, but not how Darkside appear to know more about the Okoro and De Montfort lines than we do.”
“Are you sure the De Montfort bible was destroyed in that fire decades ago?” I asked. “Did you actually find any remnants to suggest it had been there and destroyed?”
Mo pursed her lips. “The entire house burned to the ground but, yes, we did find some charred remnants amongst the ashes. I suppose it is possible those bits were strategically placed.”
“If they were, it would certainly explain a few things.” Though in all honesty, how could they actually know more about recent generations than Mo, given how long she’d lived? If there was a direct link, it must have originated from a time before she’d been born.
“What it doesn’t explain is why this Jules Okoro is on that list between Gareth, Henry, and Max,” Luc said. “If there’s a direct line of succession through the De Montforts, why would he be between them? Have you asked Jackie about it?”
“Yes,” Mo said. “She found a brief mention of him, but hasn’t as yet been able to find a record of his birth or even his death. I’ve asked her to keep investigating.”
“Perhaps that’s why they’re searching for the Okoro bible,” Ginny said. “Maybe they want to know whether he is a threat or not.”
“If Darkside believed he was a threat, they’d kill him regardless,” Mo said. “And that means we need to find him before they do. Ginny, can you go back home and see if either of your parents knows who he might be? And then would you mind heading over to Browne’s cafe and keeping an eye on Saskia’s store?”
She nodded. “If someone leaves, I’ll follow and report back.”
“Just be wary,” I said. “If they in any way suspect we’re on to them, you may be led into a trap.”
A smile touched her lips. “I am a cop, remember. I do know how to follow suspects.”
Mo touched her arm. “These suspects have a tendency to murder first and ask questions later, so carry your blade and your gun.”
“I will.”
She jumped into the Audi and drove away. We followed Luc to an unmarked black sedan and climbed in—me in the back and Mo in the front.
Luc started the engine. “Where to?”
Mo raised the glimmering, string-filled sphere and studied it for a few seconds. “Head into Clifton Springs, and I’ll direct from there.”
As Luc turned the car around and accelerated down the road, I said, “Did you send someone out to investigate the information I sent about the menik’s controller?”
His gaze briefly met mine in the rearview mirror. Though there was nothing more than calm remoteness in those jade depths, desire nevertheless flick
ered through me.
The damn link between us was definitely getting stronger, and it wasn’t helping the state of my errant hormones at all.
“Dan detoured over and checked it out. The woman who’d been using the room unexpectedly checked out an hour earlier.”
“Any evidence that she was our shooter?”
“Dan viewed the security tapes, and she was carrying a long ski bag that could easily have concealed a rifle. He’s put out an APB on her.”
“I hope you mentioned that she could be dangerous.”
“They’ve been told to keep their distance and notify the NCA immediately.”
“What about the oath ring we found in the hotel room? Did you have any luck trying to trace it?”
“I sent it to London. As far as I’m aware, they’re still working on it.” His amusement spun around me, a warm yet insubstantial caress that had goose bumps tripping down my spine. “You really do like your questions, don’t you?”
“It’s a family trait, dear boy, and one you’d better get used to,” Mo said before I could reply. “It’ll make your life together easier. Take the next left.”
He did so, then glanced at her, eyebrow raised. “I’m a Blackbird; that’s all I ever wanted to be, and all I ever will be. Long term is not something I’m interested in.”
I couldn’t help wondering if he was trying to convince himself or me with statements like that. “You let me go and you’ll end up regretting it, Blackbird.”
“No,” he said softly, his gaze on mine again. “I won’t.”
Mo leaned across and patted his knee. “While I do appreciate the practical and stoic nature of the Blackbirds, what is happening between you two is something way beyond your control and determination.”
“Attraction—no matter how fierce—will never rule my actions, and my heart will never again be on the table.”
It was a statement that stung, if only because—for one brief moment in that cavern—I’d truly believed his heart had been on the table. There’d certainly been more than just a fierce attraction; it had been deeper than that. Stronger than that.
So who was kidding themselves? Him? Or me?
“I’m not talking about attraction,” Mo said. “And not even the most hardened heart can fight destiny.”
“I don’t believe in destiny.”
“Ah, well then.” Mo shook her head. “Your fall, when it does happen, will not be pretty.”
Luc didn’t reply, and silence fell for a while. After a few more directions from Mo, we entered a street that was filled with redbrick bungalows all made in the same mold. There was a large paddock area down the far end and—beyond a somewhat scraggly hedge—the tops of shipping containers were visible.
“Stop here,” Mo said. “It’s the last house in this row.”
Luc pulled over. I leaned forward and rested my arms on the front seats. The house in question had double-width windows at the front and two dormer windows in the roofline. The front garden had been concreted over and there was a white van sitting to the right of a longish brick planter that divided the yard from the footpath.
Mo unclipped her seat belt. “I’ll go scout—”
“It’s better if I do,” Luc said. “Especially after what happened at the chapel. They’re likely to be watching for any over-inquisitive birds.”
Mo hesitated, and then nodded. Luc climbed out of the car and disappeared from sight.
“You obviously have a good idea what this goddamn connection between me and Luc is,” I said. “So how about you explain it? Because I have to tell you, it’s frightening the hell out of me.”
She frowned. “Why on earth would you be frightened of it?”
“Because it’s not natural to be connected on such a deep level with someone you barely even know. And it’s certainly not natural to touch that person’s arm and suddenly be immersed in their thoughts, sharing a memory that caused them great pain.”
Mo sucked in a breath. “That usually doesn’t occur until after consummation of the relationship.”
“Then I hate to think what’s going to happen if and when we ever get around to sex.” I paused and looked through the front window. Though I couldn’t see him, the odd awareness told me he was now moving down the side of the house. “What exactly is it?”
“It’s what was once known as anima nexum—a Latin term that means soul connection.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Soul mates? You’re saying we’re soul mates?”
“Not exactly.” She grimaced. “It can certainly refer to two people who are connected at a soul level, but it can also refer to souls doomed to battle each other through time eternal, or souls who are destined to re-meet until whatever went wrong in their initial relationship has been rectified.”
“So are we the first or the third? Because we’re obviously not the second.”
“I suspect, given what you just said, that it’s the third option.”
“Why? I would have thought my ability to touch him and see his pain was something a soul mate could do.”
“No. The soul mate connection is simply a recognition of fate. It’s of the moment—of this life rather than the past. It can be fierce and instant, to be sure, but it certainly does not imbue either party with any sort of psychic ability.”
“And the third option does?”
“If the souls have been meeting for centuries then, yes, because the bond deepens with each rebirth, becoming something that is heart, mind, and soul.”
“Forcing lovers to relive their doomed relationship certainly seems like something the old gods would do,” I muttered. “Does it happen often in the De Montfort line?”
She hesitated. “I’ve seen it before, yes.”
“I’m sensing there should be more to that answer.”
“The more is nothing but a cautionary tale used to scare adulterous young women.”
“Why young women? Why not young men?”
She smiled. “Because the history of this world is written by men determined to cast women in the worst light.”
“So what was the tale, and where did you hear it?”
“It was one my grandmother told me and she was, like you, rather enraged that it was Gwenhwyfar rather than her lover who paid the ultimate price for falling in love.”
“And Gwenhwyfar was?”
“The chosen wife of the first witch king. As was often the case in those days, it was an arranged marriage—one that held political and military benefits. The king sent the Blackbirds to escort Gwenhwyfar and her family to the ceremony. It’s said that along the way, Gwenhwyfar and a Blackbird fell in love.”
“And what about the fabled Blackbird ethics?”
“It applied to kings, not their queens—or future queens. As I said earlier, affairs often happened.”
“I gather the king found out?”
“By my grandmother’s account, Gwenhwyfar was not one to hide her emotions in secrecy and lies. She told the king she would not marry him.”
“And?”
“The Blackbird was banished and Gwenhwyfar beaten. She was then forced—by both her father and the king—to honor the arranged marriage.”
“She didn’t run? She didn’t get rescued by her Blackbird?”
“No.”
“What a bastard, abandoning her like that.”
Amusement touched Mo’s lips. “As I’ve said, their duty is to their king, not their heart. He was honor-bound to leave as ordered.”
“Technically, honor should have stopped him ever getting involved with her.” I shook my head. “So, what happened to her? Did she live a long and unhappy life? Or did she reconcile with her king?”
“Neither. She bore him one son to save her family’s honor, and then she killed herself.”
“How the hell is that a cautionary tale against adultery? Seems to me it’s more a warning to keep your big mouth shut.”
Mo chuckled. “I always thought that, too.”
“What about the Blackbir
d? What happened to him after he was banished?”
“He went to the Lady of the Lake and begged her to help him regain his love.”
I blinked. “How on earth could she have helped him? I mean, she’s a goddess and all, and probably could, but I wouldn’t have thought she’d interfere in mere matters of the heart.”
“Vivienne did help, but not in the way he might have wished. She’s a romantic and was somewhat incensed that he simply walked away rather than fighting for the woman he loved.”
“She sounds like my kind of goddess. What did she do to him?”
“She decreed that he would have a long and lonely life to regret his actions, and that his soul and Gwenhwyfar’s would then meet time and again down through the ages. If he did not repeat his mistake—if he held true to his heart rather than his duty and allegiance to the king—his wish would be granted.”
“Is there a happy ending to this story? Because otherwise I’m not liking the sound of it.”
“That I can’t say. It is but a tale, after all.”
I gave her a long, somewhat disbelieving look. “You rarely waste time telling me tales like that unless there’s a point behind them.”
“The point, my girl, is pretty obvious.”
“I’m not Gwenhwyfar, Mo.”
“Perhaps not, but it certainly is evident that you and Luc have formed a connection generations in the making. It would explain your instant attraction to the man and your ability to sense his presence, his emotions, and at least some of his memories.”
“Well, all I can say to that is, we must have done something pretty damn shitty way back in our past—especially given that in this life, he’s determined not to get involved long term.”
“Perhaps, like Gwenhwyfar’s lover, he is paying a penance for abandoning his heart for duty.”
Something cold went through me as the image of the woman in red rose, and I shivered. “I think he might have fallen for someone he was protecting. I think she died and he blames himself.”
“Ah.” She wrapped a hand around mine and squeezed lightly. “If that is the case, then this lifetime is not likely to end happily for him.”
“Meaning I should just stop hankering after the man and get on with finding someone else.”