“And risk havin’ yer knights take us down, little by little?” Nibs says. “No, no, Carman ain’t stupid. If she wants to win this war, she needs an army. And an army has to stand together. Or somethin’ of the sort. Now come on, Mordred wants to see ya before Her Mightiness comes back.”
With a nod, I pull the heavy wooden door open to let us in. A blast of cool air greets us, carrying a faint smell of rotten eggs, a stark reminder that the Gates of Hell are more open than closed these days.
We turn left into a narrow stairwell, and start climbing towards the KORT room. Each time we pass before one of the slitted windows, I can’t help but look outside at the multitude of demons shifting across Lake High’s grounds. There’s so many of them, even my earlier display of power has barely left a dent.
Mordred’s voice rings out sharply, bouncing off the staircase’s walls before we reach the second-floor landing. “There’s a zero-tolerance policy for those who do not obey my commands.”
“Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum worked fast this time ‘round,” Nibs drawls. “Guess they didn’t wanna miss yer arrival.”
We emerge from the staircase to find a line of six demons kneeling by the wall halfway down the corridor, heads bowed. I ignore the two Dark Sidhe lounging by the windows, my eyes drawn instead to Mordred’s pacing figure. The last time I saw him was in Danu’s scrying pool, moment before he was about to feel Carman’s wrath. I go over every inch of his tattooed body, but whatever Carman’s done to him, there’s no trace of it left.
“The message was clear from the start,” Mordred continues, sounding almost bored. “You do not act, or even think, without my say-so. Anyone who disobeys this edict forfeits his eternal life.”
Spinning gracefully on his heels, Mordred cuts his hand through the air. There’s a gurgling gasp from the nearest demon, then the last in the line falls forward, head hitting the floor with a dull thud.
I suck in my breath at the sight of the blood gushing out of the other demons’ throats, before they, too, crumple into lifeless heaps.
“Good hunting, guys,” Mordred tells Urim and Thummim. “Their oghams are yours to do as you like.”
The two Dark Sidhe grin broadly as they each pull out long knives, then fall upon their victims to carve them up. Bile rises to my throat at the slick sounds of flesh and bones being pried open, and I squeeze my hands until my nails dig deeply into my palms to keep from getting sick.
“Hello, brother,” I call out. “Miss me much?”
Mordred looks over his shoulder at me, his golden eyes cold and distant. Far from the warm welcome I’d hoped, now that I know he’s been my guardian angel all along.
“What exactly do you want here?” he asks guardedly.
A beautiful, crystalline laugh resounds behind me and I stiffen.
“I didn’t think it would be a good idea for Mordred to get you here,” Jennifer says, strutting past me. “But the sight of your bare back is so worth it. Do tell me you were flogged.”
Mordred winces slightly at her words, but doesn’t push her away when she wraps her arms around his waist in a proprietary way. Guess he’s fine with whatever she says or does, as long as she’s his.
“So tell me,” Jennifer continues with her honeyed tone, “how does it feel to not be wanted wherever you go?”
A shout from outside the building saves me from having to answer.
“Incoming!”
A second later, a massive shadow drops from the sky before crashing just outside our windows in a deafening BOOM that makes the whole building rock on its foundations. Jennifer grimaces prettily, leaning slightly over to look out the windows.
“What was it this time?” she asks in annoyance.
“That would appear to be a fishing boat,” Thummim says offhandedly, cleaning himself off with a rag. “Again.”
“But this one looks like it may have taken the forge down,” Urim adds, his usually pristine clothes now covered in gore.
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. Mordred seems to notice, and says, “Avalon’s been seriously compromised, and is unraveling at the seams. Here faster than in other places, but I’m sure it’ll spread to the rest of the place soon enough.”
“You could save this place if you would only stop what you’re doing here,” I say.
“It is of no concern to me what happens to Avalon,” Mordred says with a light shrug. “This is but a temporary residence until we finally take our rightful place on Earth.”
“You know, I never saw the appeal of ruling over everyone else,” I say, abruptly changing tacks. “You’re constantly hounded by people who want something from you, while at the same time you have to worry about those who want to take your place. It all sounds rather fatiguing.”
“Little people will never be able to fathom what great minds think,” Jennifer says with a smirk, “least of all try to understand them.”
“There’s no need to put yourself down like that, Jen,” I retort.
Anger flashes in her beautiful eyes, but Mordred pulls Jennifer along as he heads back for the KORT room.
“I didn’t bring you here so you could have a hissy fit with the object of my wooing,” he tells me over his shoulder.
I snort back a laugh, enjoying Jennifer’s cringing at the old-fashioned word. But as I follow them down the long hallway, all feelings of mirth leave me, replaced by a sense of doom. I can feel the Siege Perilous’s power flowing out of the KORT room, cold and demanding, making my skin prickle with the need to grab for it.
I hug my arms to my chest, willing myself to keep moving, to cross the room’s threshold. Gone are the pennants of the old knight families that used to hang proudly on the walls. Gone, too, are the chairs where the KORT members used to sit. And, floating above the spot where the round table once stood, is the portal, the air inside it shimmering as of extreme heat, the Siege Perilous standing innocuously beside it.
“I’ve got a little surprise for you,” Mordred says, his smile chilling me to the bone.
He motions me around the portal. My stomach feels tight. Slowly, I edge around the room, until I can see what he’s pointing at, and swallow a curse back down.
“Fancy meeting you here,” I manage to say, eyes fixed on the diminutive woman kneeling on the hard floor.
For some reason, Mordred’s decided to bring Irene out from whatever cell she’s been kept in. Despite her bound hands, the woman I once considered my mother turns to face me. Her hands have been tied behind her back, and her greasy hair, streaked with white, hangs over half of her face in clumpy strands. But it can’t hide the black-rimmed eyes staring at me with unabashed hatred.
At least that part of her hasn’t changed.
“I thought you might enjoy this present, at least,” Mordred says with a wolfish smile.
“Luther was right,” Irene says, her voice hoarse. “We should have drowned you as a baby.”
“Why didn’t you?” Jennifer asks. “I mean, you did marry the one who killed your fiancé, surely one more murder wouldn’t have been such a big deal.” She catches the confusion that flashes in my eyes, reflected on Irene’s grimy face. “Oh, don’t act like you’re surprised. Did you sincerely believe no one would ever find out?” Jennifer’s cheeks dimple in another of her signature cruel smiles. “I must say, though, that the face Artie made when I showed him the evidence was priceless.”
Irene blanches. “You ungrateful swine! What kind of filthy lies have you been feeding my s—”
Her eyes bulge out, a choked gurgle escaping her cracked lips. My gaze slides over to Jennifer. The girl’s left hand is clenched, a vein throbbing at her temple as she slowly strangles Irene from across the room. I grit my teeth together until my jaw feels like it’s going to shatter. No matter what Irene’s done, she doesn’t deserve this.
Yet I do nothing to save her. Don’t even voice an objection as Irene’s face turns purple, blood vessels in her eyes bursting.
“Stop.”
Mordr
ed’s voice is barely a whisper, but it acts like a gunshot on Jennifer, and she releases her hold on Irene. The woman slumps to the floor, wheezing.
I turn questioningly to Mordred, and find that he’s watching me. Can he tell I didn’t want Irene to die, that my coming over is a sham, a trick?
“Why stop me?” Jennifer asks, seething.
Mordred shrugs. “She’s still a valuable prisoner. But if you’re so keen to have a little fun, I have other choice prisoners for you. I hear one of them was even a KORT knight, and is parentless. So completely useless to me.”
I feel myself turn white, aware of my brother’s allusion. Mordred knows about her and Lance, then. And as part of me rejoices in the news that Lance is still alive, another fears how Jennifer’s going to react.
“Would you, darling?” she asks prettily, sliding her arm in Mordred’s in a simpering way that makes me want to punch her so very bad. After everything Lance has done for her, sacrificed for her, this is her response?
But she doesn’t ask for Lance to play with. Instead, she keeps her mouth uncharacteristically shut, her eyes flickering to Mordred, gauging. My weariness increases a notch. For if the supposed love of Mordred’s life is jittery around him, then, brother or not, I need to be extra careful.
Chapter 33
“What are you doing here?”
It’s the tenth time Bri’s asked me that question since I’ve run into her, and still I don’t know what to say.
When Mordred sent me away, tired of my constant bickering with Jennifer, I found my feet automatically heading for the old storage room down by the kitchens, the very place where Arthur secretly taught me to control my powers. I needed some peace and quiet, so I could figure out a way to corner Mordred away from his sadistic girlfriend and work on having him switch sides.
Instead, I’ve got to contend with a confused and suspicious friend. But if I tell her the truth, my whole plan might unravel, and would put her at risk too. Wouldn’t it be easier to let her assume the worst of me, and continue this whole thing on my own, like I’ve always done?
“I thought you were going to stay away until I finished working on those wards,” Bri continues intently. She’s grown as thin as a piece of stick in the last few days. But something sharp has entered her eyes. Self-confidence.
I blow out a sigh. Truth then. “We’ve found Carman’s Achilles’ heel, and I’m here to help pry it open,” I say.”
“You’ve found her weakness?” she says slowly. “The wards?”
Owen tilts his head at me. He’s sitting cross-legged on the floor, gathering books and papers. His presence alone explains how Bri’s managed to evade the enemy thus far, even when working in the middle of them.
I shake my head. “No,” I say at last.
Bri’s lower lip starts to shake, her act of bravado slipping. “So everything I’ve done is useless?”
“No,” Owen and I say together.
“Not at all,” I say. “OK. Let me go about it another way. How’s your work coming along?”
Bri looks down at her feet, her short dark hair forming little question marks around her head. “Slow,” she says at last. “It’s turning out to be harder than I thought.”
“The alteration will happen if you will it so,” Owen says, pushing to his feet, books and papers under an arm.
“You keep saying that, but nothing’s happening!” Bri says, her pale brow creasing more severely. “And I keep losing precious time trying to avoid that sneaky pig Brockton.”
I grab both her hands. “And that’s exactly what I’m talking about,” I say. “What if you don’t succeed?”
“She will,” Owen states calmly.
“Or not in time?” I continue. “Or you do, and Carman still manages to succeed in freeing Balor? We needed a backup plan, one to take care of Carman while you do your work, and Caamaloth gets ready for battle, so…” I shrug.
“So you decided to, like, sacrifice yourself?” Bri says.
I shake my head. “Not sacrifice, spy,” I say, trying to sound more confident than I feel. “As I said, we’ve found the chink in Carman’s armor, but we can’t take advantage of it from afar.”
I open my mouth to finally explain the whole plan, when the door to the storage room slams open, making us both jump.
“Well, well, well,” says Agravain, striding inside. “What have we here?”
My stomach does a backflip. The last time I saw him, he was leading the charge against the church, forcing Father Tristan, Lance, Jack, and Lady Ysolt to sacrifice themselves so we could flee. He must’ve seen me leave the KORT room with Mordred and Jennifer, and decided to follow me down here. And like the big dolt that I am, I didn’t notice a thing.
Agravain sniffs the air. “Smells like a couple of conspirators,” he says, smirking as I rush to place myself in front of Bri.
“Conspiring to get your ass kicked,” I retort with a sneer of my own, motioning for Bri to leave through the back door with her brother. “Again.”
Agravain’s smile turns into a frown. “Watch it,” he growls. “Nobody’s gonna save your skin this time around.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Owen gently pulling Bri away. “I don’t need anyone to save my skin wherever you’re concerned,” I say, to keep Agravain focused on me. “I can take you whenever I want.”
“Doubt that,” the boy says, turning to track Bri’s and Owen’s movements.
And what I see in his eyes chills me to the bone. This isn’t a boy anymore, but a killer.
Without waiting another second, I charge, power rippling over my blackened fists. But before I can make contact, I slam into an invisible barrier. My power backfires, sizzling through me, and I’m sent flying across the room. Wood explodes into splinters as I crash into the old wardrobe.
Agravain lets out a low laugh. “What is it with you people trying to be all noble all of a sudden?” he asks. “Do you really think I don’t know about your little friend? It’s only a matter of time till I get my hands on her, too.”
I hear him lunge, and roll to the side just as a flaming fist swings down. Agravain’s knuckles hit the floor, blasting through the flagstone in a shower of sparks, and leaving behind a small, burned out crater where my head was.
I swallow hard, neurons firing in all directions. I’m not used to fighting in close quarters. My power is too erratic, wild. If I keep this up, I might bring the whole school down. If Agravain doesn’t take me out first.
So I do the only thing I can think of.
I turn around and run.
“Wait here, you damned coward!” Agravain shouts, tearing after me.
Heat burns down my back as I burst into the staircase, barely avoiding a second attack. I stumble forward, veering into the staircase so fast my head hits the sharp edge of the railing. Stars dance before me, but I make myself keep moving, taking the steps three at a time.
“When I say stop, you stop!” Agravain bellows, entering the staircase behind me.
The flames dancing above his outstretched hand sear my vision as I turn to face him again.
“When I say roll over, you roll over,” he continues, eyes sparkling brightly in the firelight, rabid with bloodlust. “And when I say play dead, you keel over and die.”
He punches his fists out and the fire blazes out toward me. I fling my arms up, gathering wind around me. The flames hit my shield, spreading wide instead, before I shift the tide and send them leaping back the way they came.
Agravain drops to the floor, flattening himself to the stairs before he can get roasted. I don’t wait for him to recover, and dash the rest of the way up.
“You’re gonna pay for that, bitch!” Agravain shouts.
“I’ll aim better next time,” I tell him as I burst onto the main floor.
A demon grunts in surprise as I barrel into her. I trip over a fallen torch. Scramble to keep my feet under me. The demon shrieks behind me. Bones crunch.
I glance over my shoulder as I pelt down t
he long hallway. Agravain’s there, a long, angry red patch where his hair’s been burned. The demon I ran into is lying in a heap at his feet, motionless.
“You should stop following me,” I shout at him. “You’re only going to make a bigger prat of yourself if you let me beat you again in front of thousands of witnesses.”
Agravain storms after me, and I speed up. The exit is just a dozen feet away. Five… I’m already reaching out to push the door open. Then something cold punches into my shoulder with the force of a harpoon, and I spin sideways to crash into the wall.
“Fiiiight!” someone bellows out excitedly at the opposite end of the hallway.
I grunt, hand going automatically to the ice pick sticking out from beneath my clavicle. “OK, now you’re really pissing me off,” I say.
I let my temperature flare up, melting the icicle in seconds, then bring my arms together, before pushing my hands out. For a long second, nothing happens, then I can feel them. Small tremors in the floor that are growing stronger. Someone screams in the distance. Then a dozen vines puncture the wall around Agravain like deadly tentacles to wrap themselves around his limbs, long thorns lacerating his flesh.
“I did warn you to leave me alone,” I say, pushing away from the wall, my shoulder already healed. “But you wouldn’t listen to me, would you?”
“No reason to,” Agravain replies with a smirk. I frown. Something’s off. He shouldn’t be that cocky, considering I’ve got him tied up.
Footsteps echo all around us as more demons hurry to watch the spectacle. I flex my fingers and the vines tighten around Agravain, constricting his airway. All it would take for me to end his miserable life is to have that large thorn by his neck pierce his jugular. Cold sweat breaks out over my back at what I’m contemplating to do.
“What’s it to be, Agravain?” I ask, my voice tight. “Truce, or death?”
“You don’t even have the balls to end me,” he replies.
I clench my teeth together, getting angry with myself. He’s right. Despite knowing that if the roles were reversed, he wouldn’t have hesitated. Just as I didn’t hesitate when I faced those demons and Dark Sidhe. My chest tightens at my hypocrisy. What makes Agravain so different that he deserves to live, when the others couldn’t? Wasn’t it I who condemned the Order for treating the Fey like soulless tools and weapons? And here I am doing exactly the same.
Curse of the Fey: A Modern Arthurian Legend (Morgana Trilogy Book 3) Page 31