by J. M. Davies
The witch smiled as she examined his face. “I dipped inside your memories. I did you no harm. I didn’t steal them or erase them.”
Marcus narrowed his gaze on the witch. She knows. He let go and stepped away.
“She’s a demon, Drayton. You invited a demon to the party.”
A demon? But how? His brows furrowed and he approached her with murder in his eyes. The look was enough for the witch to retreat.
“When Steel arranged this gathering, you, Miss Lockheart, were given specific instructions to set up wards around the perimeter of the mansion to ensure no unwanted guests would enter. It was one of the rules all the non-humans insisted upon.”
He gained footage on her, but she didn’t withdraw. Instead, she stepped forward.
“We underestimated our enemy. When Steel talked about the Elusti, he mentioned humans. But he’s wrong. This is the strongest dark magic I have ever encountered. Only a few can wield this kind of strength without being destroyed. Great wizards, or gods. Anyway, it shielded the pretty one from us, and probably others. I don’t recall her.”
Marcus tilted his head and cricked his neck. Fighting a visible enemy, a human would be hard enough, but a wizard or god? This he hadn’t anticipated, nor had Steel. Ella mentioned the gods this morning.
“If you’re right, how do we proceed?”
“I am right. It explains why the deaths are across the boundaries. I never believed a human would be behind this, but I honestly thought we would discover it was the vampires, or perhaps I hoped it would be that simple. Instead, this is far worse.”
He frowned. He thought Raine and Zephra liked the vampires.
“Just because we have an accord doesn’t mean we trust one another. Isabella’s betrothal is part of this tentative alliance,” she answered, reading his thoughts.
“Strange that you sacrificed your sister when you obviously detest the Nightwalkers.”
She pushed at his chest and he held her wrists firm.
“Don’t you dare preach to me. Anyway, haven’t you heard the expression keep your friends close but your enemies closer? I love my sister. We had no choice.”
He backed away. “You always have a choice.”
“Really? Remember those words when Ella discovers you betrayed her.”
A gasp from the bedside drew his attention, and the doctor stared at him. She had been so quiet, he had forgotten she was in the room. He could quite gladly strangle the witch right now, but rubbed his neck instead. He needed to speak with Ella before someone else did. He needed to come clean and beg her forgiveness. Grovel if necessary.
“Not another word—either of you.”
“Yes, sir,” the doctor answered.
Watching Dr. Davies, he knew she wouldn’t say anything. But as for Raine? Marcus snapped his head back at her. Nothing would surprise him, but he wouldn’t explain his actions to this stranger. Or to anyone, for that matter.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Two hours later, Marcus arranged for the Assembly members to reconvene in the dining room. As the group marched in, the pungent scent of smoky sage filled the air.
“What is that smell?” Alexander from the Watchmen asked.
“It’s the sage. I performed a simple smudging ceremony to dispel the evil intent in the atmosphere. After what happened to Robert, we needed to cleanse the air and dispel any negative spirits that linger here. This ancient ritual will ensure that,” Raine said.
Marcus stared as the witch waved the small bundle of herbs she held in her hand around as she walked. She had asked if she could perform the ceremony and he had agreed, not wanting any further issues to destroy this meeting. Twenty-four hours ago, the odd collection of leaders from the Assembly sat in this very room for the first time. Now Robert Marsh lay dead, and dark magic rendered Steel in a coma.
“You promised us we would be safe. Now Marsh is dead, Steel is in a dream state, and a princess who sat at this very table was cloaked and is, in fact, a demon. Drayton, the security in this place sucks. How do we know you are even telling us the truth? I didn’t recall this woman from yesterday!” Roman shouted as he paced the room, refusing to sit down.
“I agree. I need proof of what you say or I will renounce my agreement to the alliance. This entire gathering is a shambles,” growled Zayn.
Marcus listened and observed the faces, gauging each member’s temperament. He wanted everyone to voice their opinion before he gave his. It was clear that they didn’t trust him, but it remained vital they united. They must stick together, and he needed to convince them of the importance of the alliance.
“Ladies—gentlemen. We gathered together because the threat we face affects us all. If you listen to what Marcus is saying, we are getting closer to knowing the true identity of our enemy. I have long suspected there is a greater power at the heart of this, certainly greater than anyone here. Not one of you wields the kind of magic that is swaying so many minds and souls. This power is old and has been gathering over the centuries. It has been biding its time, but the signs are clear,” said Lady Tenille.
Marcus switched the video on his laptop to play, and turned it around for the others to watch. His gaze fell on each leader. “The footage you see is from the camera surveillance and it shows Princess Undine, the water nymph walking down the corridor late yesterday evening. Huron engages in conversation with her, but his body language suggests something isn’t right. He frowns and shouts. The princess places her hand on his temple and says a few words, and then she leaves. Minutes later, the same woman descends to the basement. When the elevator door opens, out steps Huron. He nods at the guard outside Steel’s door and enters the code to gain access to the holding room and Steel. Look carefully. I also have footage of Huron at the same time interviewing Zayn. This creature used a magic we weren’t prepared for, and we believe in fact the princess was actually a demon sent to cause mayhem. We don’t know for certain that Robert Marsh was a target. It could have been Steel all along. Anyway, it’s clear this monster’s mission was to disrupt the alliance as much as possible. I understand your concerns, but running away isn’t going to help anyone.”
There was an outbreak of gasps. “We are not running, Drayton, but wonder if we would be safer on our own,” Trent Le Var said.
He eyed the calm man as he rubbed his neat, short beard.
“The fact a demon was sent to assassinate members of this alliance means we are being watched, and whoever is behind this is aware of our intention to join forces. They want us to turn on one another. To break the alliance before it has a chance. Hell, the enemy doesn’t need to kill us if we do it for them. If we allow suspicion and mistrust to break this agreement, the enemy will win. You all need to realize what is at stake here. Unfortunately, the demon escaped this morning, but we are as certain as we can be at this point that it was responsible for Robert Marsh’s death as well as Steel’s dream state.”
Roman slumped down in the leather chair next to Isabella. “Yesterday you talked about the Elusti, and we agreed—this fanatical group has over the centuries captured many of our kind. The head of this organization, the Padre, is the current leader and our target, but he’s a mere human. Today, you tell us a demon entered this fortress and killed one of us right under our noses. That puts a different slant on the face of our enemy. Demons do not work for mortals. They despise them. The face of our real enemy is therefore unclear to me, and I, too, wonder if we would be better on our own.”
Isabella swiveled her chair. “What Drayton says makes sense. If you all leave and fight this unknown darkness alone, you will die. This vision my sister predicts shows this power growing. Is that what you want?”
“My wife, Ella, has more power in her little finger than I will ever possess. I have learned the hard way, when she tells me something is important, I need to listen, because it usually is. Last night, she experienced something I believe sheds light on what we are facing. She talked about a goddess called the queen of darkness. Zayn, as the leader of th
e Fae, what do you know about this woman the Morrigan, and a king called Dagda?”
Observing Zayn, he saw the giant of a man dip his head and curse before answering.
“Yes—I’ve heard tales of the Morrigan. She’s a shape-shifting goddess of war, and bringer of death. An enemy of Goddess Danu. She murdered the disgraced King Dagda, who sat on the throne centuries ago, after he spurned her advances. Her abilities allow her to manifest in several forms—one being the crow. But I would need to speak to our goddess to know more of her involvement in this as no one has heard anything from her in years.”
“So you knew the significance of the crows all along?” Marcus yelled.
Zayn studied him hard, as if weighing up his words carefully before lowering his head. “Yes—but I wasn’t certain they were connected until now,” said Zayn quietly.
A gasp sounded out around the room.
Lady Tenille rose and spoke. “The Morrigan is the leader of the Dark Fae. She feeds off anger, and the desires of men for power and greed. If she killed Dagda, that would account for her extraordinary power. The whispered stories I’ve heard show her to be a vindictive and devious woman, with an evil soul filled with hatred and vengeance. But I do not believe in hearsay. From what I gather, this goddess wasn’t always this way, and if that is the case, we have a chance to change her heart.”
Marcus examined the beautiful woman’s intense, guarded face.
Lady Tenille smiled and walked around, staring at all the others. “As for the significance of crows, her legions can assume this form. The crows do her bidding; they spy, convey messages, and kill. The Morrigan can adapt her victims to resemble whatever she wishes. She’s a parasite, using people to carry out her will. Crows also signify death and the coming war. The more crows one sees, the greater her power has grown. The Morrigan is the true face of our enemy. She is behind all of this. The rest are merely her puppets.”
The room grew quiet. No one was willing to acknowledge nor dismiss what the great lady and Zayn admitted. If what they said was true, how could they defeat a goddess of war? Marcus knew they needed more numbers than were at the table. Even if they amassed an army of thousands, would it be enough?
“Robert Marsh came here to help, and sacrificed his life. We know from the autopsy results that an unknown poison stopped his heart. The doctor is working hard on creating an antidote as we speak, but this isn’t going to end when you return home. You came wanting answers—well, we have unearthed some, but they only lead to more questions. The gathering hasn’t been a complete disaster. I’m begging you to continue with the alliance. This Morrigan is a threat to everyone. I suggest we reconvene at a place of the Assembly’s choosing to make plans to destroy this queen of darkness. What do you say?”
His heart thumped inside his chest. If it came down to it, he would stand alone with his team from Orion and the Watchmen. He also knew that the Lockhearts and Lady Tenille would assist him. But in order to put up a fight, they needed everyone’s cooperation.
“I agree.”
Multiple voices chanted the same mantra and he sighed. Now to decide where to meet.
Lady Tenille smiled and nodded, as if reading his thoughts. “You would be welcome guests in my home in the Veil of Shadows, Arandell. You would be guaranteed safe entry through the portal, provided you surrender your weapons as you enter. My lands are shielded by magic and hidden to the eyes of mortals. It has been that way for centuries. You must respect our wishes in this, and in return, I can assure you no one will be harmed,” Lady Tenille said.
“We were told that last time, but to surrender our weapons—that would leave us defenseless,” Trent Le Var said.
The lady tilted her head to the side. “What weapons would have saved poor Robert?”
Murmurs rolled around the room, but most nodded in agreement. No gun or sword would have stopped the man being poisoned.
Alexander from the Watchmen sat forward, leaning his arms on the table. “One other issue that we need to address is how we put pressure on the Padre. Before Steel was rendered incapacitated, we discussed infiltrating Soltaire, one of two companies the Padre is CEO of with one of our own agents. Planting a spy close to the man himself.”
Marcus nodded. It was time to tighten the screws on the bastard who, up until now, dominated the playing field.
“Gateway—Jake Meadows, one of our agents—could intercept the Padre’s financial assets, and disrupt his money flow. And we have contacts with the media. We can get the rumor mill started by running some unfavorable articles about him being corrupt. As for sending in an agent, did you discuss anyone in particular?”
“I can do it.” Henry Thomas, the secretary, raised his hand.
Marcus rubbed the heavy stubble on his chin. The kid didn’t look old enough to grow hair—anywhere.
“Put your hand down, kid. We’re not in school.” He rested his eyes on the quiet man.
“Excuse me, sir, but I can speak several languages fluently. I have worked with politicians and CEOs before. I’m a personal assistant, and I know better than anyone here what that entails.”
The boy had guts, but the Padre wasn’t an ordinary man. And he would bet his life that Henry had never worked for anyone like him.
“Henry, do you know anything about the Padre?”
“A little, sir.”
“It’s suggested that the Padre—that’s his nickname, but don’t mistake him for being a priest of any kind of religion you would want to be associated with—is a billionaire, a ruthless businessman who acts as if he is untouchable. The truth is, he is. He has influence in the US government and the security forces. There’s talk he will run for president. The evidence we have collected shows he is the head of the secret society called the Elusti, which has headquarters in New York, but offices around the globe. He owns stock in the media, shipping, banking, as well as real estate all over the world. No man should have the kind of power and money he has. What scares most people when they hear the whispers about the Padre are the behind-doors initiation he makes those closest to him undertake. He demands absolute loyalty. Candidates have been required to perform heinous acts that will haunt you for the rest of your damn life. You’re either fucking working with him or standing in his way, and if you are in his way, it’s not for long.”
“Drayton—that’s enough!”
“No, it isn’t. Henry’s a kid, with no experience of what terror is. To be tortured without hope of a rescue. Or needing to kill another person, because it’s the job. You’re wet behind the ears, son. You wouldn’t survive, so don’t fucking stick your hand up. Do you hear me?”
Marcus studied the calm man with his fresh boyish face, nondescript brown wavy hair, and pale-blue eyes that flashed at him.
“I’m not your son. I’m Steel’s PA, and there’s a lot more to the role than you imagine. Don’t judge a book by its cover, sir.”
A smirk flitted across his face. The kid had balls. Marcus sighed. The weight of success or failure rested upon his shoulders. With Steel out of operation, the decisions fell to him. Rubbing his neck, he twisted around and faced a tense-looking Alexander. Another man he barely knew. The relationship he held with Steel afforded him some credibility, but in truth, he didn’t trust many people. Examining everyone inside the room, he knew they would all be on guard and unwilling to trust strangers—understandably—but they needed to band together to get the job done.
“Henry could be the perfect fit, Drayton. He’s an average-looking human and not an obvious threat. His employment history is impressive, to say the least. He graduated from MIT, and his previous employers are distinguished enough that he would be an ideal candidate if the position were to open up as a PA for the Padre, which currently it isn’t. But that is something we can manipulate, as well as create an opportunity for the Padre to meet Henry.”
Marcus considered the boy again. He met his stare full on, not flinching one bit.
“I have worked for Edward Billings and Sally Hemmingswort
h, both prominent CEOs for multi-billion dollar companies. I can handle anything the Padre would want from a personal assistant.”
Marcus wiped his mouth, picked up the orange from the bowl on the table, peeled off the skin, and slid a piece of the juicy fruit into his mouth. The kid couldn’t possibly know what he was signing up for. He was too eager. And in truth, once this operation started, Henry would be on his own.
“I could arrange for an introduction to take place. That would be easy. The Padre’s whereabouts is always under our surveillance. We can create a situation that puts the Padre at risk, only for the kid here to play hero. My team can ensure that the security that surrounds him is distracted so that would be an achievable scenario. But I’m not convinced you realize the risks, Henry.”
The young man stood and sauntered over to his side.
Marcus tilted his head to study him, and wondered how old he was. As Steel’s second-in-command, he interviewed team members during recruitment, but not Henry. Steel recruited him personally. Henry pulled out a slip of paper from inside his jacket pocket and threw it in front of him. Marcus picked it up and examined the black-and-white photograph of a man’s unmistakably burnt remains.
“His name was Simon Thomas. My fraternal twin.”
A hardness surfaced on the man’s face, one Marcus recognized, one that spoke of deep pain and loss. And from the looks of it, Henry would do anything to get his revenge.
“My brother worked for the Padre, but he queried the integrity of the company. Simon sent me a file, and insisted that I investigate Soltaire but covertly. A couple of weeks went by, and I received a text. He said he was being followed and was fearful for his safety. Two weeks later, he was dead. I could tell you he was ex-military and always in trouble and that these two events weren’t related, but that would be bullshit. The Padre killed my brother.”
Shit, he should have known. Now, he understood how the dots all joined together. He nodded. “You came to Steel?”