Furious, Falcyn attacked the shadows, but it did him no good. Not even with his god powers. Because they had no solid form for him to strike and destroy, they couldn’t be killed by conventional or any other means. Rather, they disintegrated as soon as he made contact, only to reappear as quickly as they vanished. Sometimes within nanoseconds.
Over. Behind. One even tapped his shoulder, just to be an asshole.
And all the while they laughed and mocked his efforts. Which only made him angrier.
More determined to find some way to do them harm.
How dare they! He punched and twisted, trying his damnedest to end them. Or at least wring a groan from their throats.
Nothing worked.
“Falcyn!”
Suddenly, he heard Blaise’s shout, along with Urian’s. But he didn’t acknowledge them. Or let their voices slow him down in any way. He had to keep trying to fight and scatter his attackers and reach his Daimon. Nothing mattered past freeing Medea. He was consumed with a frenzied madness to save her, and drive these bastards away.
His blood pounded in his ears. He tasted bile and sweat. One minute the shadows were consuming her and in the next, she was finally in his arms, holding him. Bringing him slowly back to sanity.
She blinked, her gaze filled with total disbelief as she reached up to place her cold fingers to his chin. “Falcyn?”
He could barely breathe as he stared down into those dark eyes. Cupping her head in his palm, he pulled her against him and held her tightly. His breath came in ragged gasps. “Are you all right?”
She glanced about as if in a daze herself. “They were trying to infiltrate my mind … to take me over and make me think their thoughts. It was awful! I was sure they had me.”
“I know. So was I.”
“How did you get me free?”
Brandor rudely cleared his throat to indicate the bottle in his hand. “I threw fey water on them to make them solid, and he beat the utter shit out of them while they were weakened. We were trying to explain to him what to do. But he didn’t listen.”
“He didn’t need to,” Blaise added with a laugh. “Apparently, you can just wail the bloody buggers out of any wet body. Good old Falcyn. There’s no problem so big that it can’t be solved with an adequate supply of canned whup ass.”
Falcyn reluctantly let go of Medea and snorted at the uncharacteristic term from Blaise, which showed that he’d been spending way too much time at Sanctuary lately. “You know, I’ve never really understood that expression. Seriously. If someone says they’re going to open up a can of whup ass on you, it means that someone out there is actually canning whup ass. Truth be told, that’s the guy I’d be most afraid of.”
Urian laughed. “Valid good point. Next time Nick or Dev uses it, I’ll have to bring it up to them.” He jerked his chin toward Medea. “You feeling better?”
She cast a nasty glare at Brandor as she pushed herself to her feet. Dusting herself off, she grimaced at him. “Aside from the water some thoughtless bastard slung all over me, yeah.”
With an amused grin, Falcyn used his powers to create a leather jacket that he draped around her shoulders. “If it makes you feel better, you’d win the Sanctuary wet T-shirt contest, hands down.”
Scoffing as she shrugged it on, she turned her grimace toward him. “Don’t go there. I’ve been told by the Charonte demons that roasted dragon is quite tasty. With or without the barbecue sauce.”
“That threat would hold more weight if you weren’t an Apollite who lives solely on the blood of your own kind.”
“Yes, but I still hunt and kill for sport. Never forget that.”
Blaise smacked Urian on the shoulder. “And here you were afraid they’d start getting along if left unguarded. Told you, you had nothing to fear. Falcyn pisses off everyone. Even without trying. He can’t help himself.”
Medea grew quiet as that remark hit a little too close to home. Not that Falcyn had ticked her off.
Rather that they’d gotten along a lot more than the others would ever guess. And the seductive scent of her dragon standing so close to her right now was warming her significantly more than the leather jacket he’d conjured.
Worse was the need she had to bury her face in the crook of his neck and breathe him in. Tongue that tendon that stood out just a bit along his collarbone and sink her hand in those soft, short curls.
Tease his jawline with her fangs …
It was all she could do to not give in to those urges that made her entire body burn.
As if he could read her thoughts, his cheeks darkened and Falcyn quickly changed the subject.
And to her chagrin, he also took a step to the right—away from her. “My changeling powers are back,” he said to Blaise. “How are yours?”
Blaise quickly shifted into his dragon form. But he didn’t stay long before he returned to his human body. Yet the expression on his face said that he wasn’t happy to have the ability restored. “This isn’t good.”
His ire baffled Medea. Surely he had to be relieved to have those powers restored. “Why not?”
“I’m thinking if we can shift it could only mean one thing.… We need to get to my father’s castle. Fast!”
“Lead on, brother. I’ve got your six.”
Falcyn and Blaise returned to their dragon bodies. He lowered his wing for Medea to have access to his back while Blaise allowed Brogan and Brandor to mount on him for a ride.
The moment Medea slid into place, she felt Falcyn’s sharp intake of breath as he shuddered between her spread thighs. Worse was the wave of desire that reverberated through her entire being. She quickly glanced to the others to make sure they didn’t see it, and over her shoulder to ensure her brother hadn’t picked up on it.
Luckily, no one seemed to notice. Yet her cheeks heated up anyway. It was so uncomfortable to know what thoughts were in her head and in Falcyn’s. And she hated the power he had over her. Hated how little control she had where her dragon was concerned. Especially when he lifted the edge of his wing up to brush her face and she caught the heated look in those serpentine eyes.
Yeah, no missing that. Or the rumble that preceded a bit of fire that came out of his mouth before he stood up in all his dragon glory.
Unaware of where her wayward thoughts kept drifting, Urian situated himself behind her in the saddle while Brogan took up Blaise’s reins.
Once everyone was secured, they took flight over the not-so-fun enchanted forest.
Medea quickly learned that she wasn’t keen on air travel. At all. In fact, she loathed it with every molecule of her being. The only thing that made it tolerable was that Urian kept her anchored from behind while Falcyn flew low to the ground as soon as he realized how scared she was to be in his leather saddle.
She truly didn’t care for this at all, and kept a death grip on his spiny ridges. How could anyone stand flying like this?
I won’t hurt you.
She stroked the scales on his neck and projected her own thoughts to him. I know. But I’d still rather have my feet safely on the ground.
She was no dragon-rider, after all. At least, not in this manner. How anyone could ride them into battle and fight, she couldn’t imagine. The rocking sensation combined with the dipping and rising, and the rushing wind, was nauseating her.
But luckily, it was only a matter of minutes before she saw the bright crystal castle that floated above the tree line, turning in a slow circle. Without a doubt, she knew this was where Emrys Merlin made his home. And as soon as it came into focus, it was obvious that something horrible had happened here.
Blaise had been right.
Tendrils of gray smoke rose up from the blackened towers. Animals and demons lay slaughtered about on the road, leading from the forest toward the cleared grounds and meadows. There had to be a thousand rooks lying on the ground in a twisted, macabre display.
The drawbridge yawned open to show a bright, gilded hall that gleamed in the dim light. Yet for all the ostentatious wealth, it wasn’t inviting.
It was insidious against the blood-laden landscape. As was the quiet that reverberated and was broken only by the sound of the dragons’ flapping wings.
Blaise turned green as they surveyed the damage. “Who would dare attack?”
“Morgen, maybe?” Brandor suggested.
“No.” Brogan’s eyes glowed bright in the dimly lit mist. “Not even she would dare attack Nimue. Never mind Merlin. Not here in their stronghold.”
“She’s right,” Blaise agreed. “Besides, there would be gargoyles, Adoni, and mandrakes among the dead had Morgen battled here. She isn’t humane enough to see to the dead. She’d have left them wherever they fell.”
After landing in a small clearing and making sure his passengers were safe, Blaise took off running across the narrow bridge that was suspended over a deep, dangerous ravine. Brogan and Brandor stayed back to check the bodies for life signs while Falcyn landed and helped Urian and Medea to dismount.
Urian went to help them.
Falcyn shifted back into his human body and rushed after Blaise, knowing what he’d find and that his mandrake kin would need comfort when he did. The fact that Blaise didn’t even think to teleport said it all about how upset the poor boy was. He wasn’t thinking straight.
Only feeling the pain of loss and despair.
And Falcyn knew the moment Blaise found their bodies. His anguished bellow echoed through the burned-out Great Hall, and made Falcyn’s stomach clench tight. Never had he heard a more sorrowful sound. One that held the betrayal of the ages. He wanted to cry for him.
More than that, he wanted to ease the pain and knew there was no way to soothe what he heard. No words could undo this. No magick.
By the time Falcyn got there, Blaise was on his knees, cradling Emrys’s body in his arms. He winced at the sight of them entwined, at the way Blaise wept while he held the man he considered his father. But what hurt most was the knowledge that his own blood would never mourn for him to that depth.
Yet Falcyn would be far more devastated if something ever happened to Blaise. That he’d been even more inconsolable after Max had divided him from Maddor. And that was what burned so deep right now.
He’d cried those tears for thousands of years. Had howled and cursed for his son, while his soul and heart had bled from a wound that no amount of anything could heal.
Damn them all for this!
Regretting his past more than ever before, he forced himself to kneel by Blaise’s side and hold him. “I’m sorry.”
“How can he be dead?” Blaise choked on the words. “He was so powerful.”
Falcyn had no idea. But even the gods could fall. All it took was one misstep. One enemy more lethal. He glanced around at the destruction. From the remnants and smears of blood all around, it was obvious that Emrys had put up a vicious fight for his life. “Where’s Nimue?”
That succeeded in distracting Blaise.
“She would never leave him to battle on his own.” He laid Emrys down gently on the stone floor, then moved to search the room. “Nimue?”
They looked about for her body. There was no sign of her anywhere.
Until Falcyn heard a soft moan off in the distance.
Together, they ran to the small courtyard in the back. At first, they saw nothing. But then Falcyn realized that the light on the far wall wasn’t really a light.
Nor was it a shadow.
It was Nimue encased in the wall. She appeared as a textured painting, or a thick fresco.
What the hell?
Scowling, Blaise went to stand before her faded image. “Nimue? Can you hear me?”
Opening her eyes, she choked as she saw the two of them. Blood dripped from the corner of her mouth. I hear you, but I’m dying. Her lips didn’t move at all. For all intents and purposes, she appeared lifeless already.
“What happened?” Blaise ran his hand over her stony arm and sleeve as if seeking a way to break through whatever magick held her trapped in the wall.
Gallu came. We weren’t strong enough to fight them. They wielded some form of magick we’ve never seen before. Something older than Merlin knew.
“No!”
A tear ran from the corner of her eye and froze halfway down her cheek to become a solid pebble on the wall. Listen to me, Blaise. Merlin loved you … as do I. You were always considered as his true son. Just as Arthur. Now we need you to pull the stone from his ring and use it to free the dragons Morgen imprisoned beneath her castle.
“I don’t understand.”
The dragon’s breath of Camelot? It’s made by them. The real dragons of old. The ones she used to make the mandrakes. If they are left unguarded, she can awaken them now that he’s dead, and enslave them for her battles. Emrys is no longer here to protect them from her or to keep her from using them in her army. You must do this for him, otherwise the world of Man will crumble and all we have sacrificed for will be for naught.
“Why didn’t he free the dragons?”
They would have killed him for what he did to them. He didn’t dare risk their wrath. Please, dearest! You must … Her voice trailed off as she expelled one deep breath and froze completely.
“Nimue!” Blaise shouted, pounding his fist against the wall.
It was too late.
She was gone.
Falcyn shook his head. “She wants us to free a bunch of pissed-off dragons? Awesome.”
Blaise didn’t comment. He stood completely still as if he were catatonic from the loss, and that made Falcyn feel like a total insensitive shit. Wanting to comfort him, he reached out and pulled him into his arms.
The fact that Blaise didn’t protest his hug told him exactly how much pain Blaise was in. In fact, he laid his head on his shoulder like a child—something he’d never done before.
Fisting his hand in Blaise’s white hair, Falcyn held him with a knot in his stomach as he resented every year Igraine and Narishka had stolen from him and his child and grandchild. Damn them to hell for this. He should have been there for Maddor and Blaise. Neither should have ever known a moment of mockery. A moment of pain. He’d have beaten the hell out of anyone who’d harmed them.
And damn Max for it all.…
It was so unfair. Closing his eyes, he felt his god powers surging in a way they hadn’t done in centuries. Dormant powers he’d let atrophy because he hadn’t cared what happened to himself. Hadn’t cared what happened to the world or to Max. Everything he’d loved had been taken and so he’d learned to live in the state of Fuck It All.
Now, he felt a bitter rebirth as old emotions were awakened inside him.
Not with a gentle touch. But with an acid drenching.
And there was nothing he could do to stop it.
Medea froze as she came into the room and saw the anguish on Falcyn’s face and the way he held on to Blaise. She blocked the door to give them privacy as the others started to enter the hall. They both needed this. Blaise to grieve and Falcyn to hold his child for the first time in his life.
It was several minutes before Blaise pulled away and wiped at his eyes.
“You okay?” Falcyn’s voice was barely audible.
Blaise nodded as he cleared his throat. He blushed the minute he realized Medea was there and that she’d seen his weakness.
Wanting to comfort him, she walked over and kissed his cheek. “I would never judge you.”
“Thank you.” He went to join the others, who were finally coming into the ancient hall.
Her own eyes moist, she reached up to brush her hand through Falcyn’s hair. “Are you okay?”
“I’m always fine.”
“You really think I’m going to buy that bullshit?”
His facade cracked. A sudden light flickered deep in his eyes that betrayed his divine birth, and it sent a shiver over her. How odd. She knew the powerful origins of her father and grandfather. Yet neither of them had ever scared her.
But right here. Right now …
Falcyn did.
This wasn’t the gentle dragon who’d made love to her. This was the ancient war god Veles that the fiercest ancient warriors had made blood sacrifices to before leading their armies into battle.
Something about him had changed in the last few minutes. He was a very different beast.
Even stronger than before.
More fierce.
Medea swallowed hard. “What is in your head?”
“That no one hurts my grandson like this with impunity. They want a war.… I’m here to give it.”
Smoke actually came out of his nostrils.
Oh yeah, Kessar had awakened a sleeping beast in Falcyn. She arched a brow at that. “Nice trick.”
“I don’t scare you at all, do I?”
More than he’d believe. And a lot more than she was comfortable with.
“I command demons and corralled and held the Sephiroth for thousands of years. What can I say? It takes a lot.” But honestly, he did. She just wasn’t the kind of person to ever admit it out loud. That knowledge gave too much power to others over her and that was one thing she’d never do.
Not for anything.
Without another word, Falcyn followed after Blaise.
Unnerved, she stayed back to watch. There was something eerie in the air. It left the hair on the back of her neck prickling her skin. Goose bumps ran along her arms.
Shivering, she glanced around the room. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear someone or something was watching her. Not wanting any part of it, she rushed to follow Blaise and Falcyn to Brandor and Brogan.
They were all gathered over Emrys’s body.
“How can this stone free the dragons?” Urian cocked his head to stare at it.
“I don’t know.” Blaise pulled the ring gently from the man’s hand.
Which was so strange to Medea, as she realized how much younger Emrys Merlin had been than Blaise. “How is he your father when it’s obvious you’re at least ten years older?”
Blaise let out a sad laugh. “He aged backwards.”
“Seriously?”
Nodding, he smiled. “Both he and Nimue. It was a spell.”
“Damn … I need that magick. Any chance you know it?”
“Sorry, Dee. If I did, I’d sell it to Lancôme and retire on an island like Savitar.”
Falcyn snorted. “Having been retired in such a manner I can tell you not to bother. Some asshole always turns up, wanting a favor. Usually when you’re at your most zen … or naked.”
Now that was intriguing. “Spend a lot of time naked, do you?” Medea arched her brow to warn him he’d best be careful with that answer.
He grinned at her. “Only in my natural dragon body. Hard to find clothes that fit.”
Rolling her eyes, she shook her head. “You’re such a goof.”
“I’m a goof? You’re the one asking for aging cream when you don’t age.”
“Yeah, but I can sell it to the humans and make a killing.”
Falcyn gave her a gimlet stare. “That Daimon humor?”
“Kind of.”
“Har … har.” His voice dripped with his sarcasm.
Blaise slid Merlin’s ring onto his hand, then lifted his body and carried it to where Nimue was trapped in the wall.
Silently and reverently, he used his powers to place his father into the wall beside her. As soon as Merlin was a sketching like Nimue, his image reached across and took Nimue’s hand into his. Then, expelling a breath, he settled into the wall and turned pale.
With a ragged breath, Blaise splayed his hand over his father’s image. “They might have fought constantly, but they loved each other more than anything. I couldn’t let them be apart. Not even in death.”
Falcyn patted him on the back as he looked at the two serene frescoes. “They appreciate it.”
A single tear slipped past Blaise’s control to slide down his cheek. Without a word, he wiped it away. “I want Kessar’s heart in my fist.”
“I will hand it to you myself.” Falcyn’s eyes burned with his fury as he made his promise.
Medea cleared her throat gently to get their attention. “I don’t mean to intrude, but I do have one question.… With them gone … how do we get out of here?”
* * *
“They’re in Val Sans Retour.”
Narishka froze midstep at the last thing she expected to hear. “Pardon?”
The Adoni warrior who’d been serving her for centuries shifted nervously as he rethought his report. He actually took a step back into his two-man armed escort in the narrow hallway that was lit by the glowing entrails of the gutted demons who’d displeased the mistress they served. As soon as they parted and he collided with the wall, he grimaced and swallowed hard. “I heard it from the Sylph queen myself. They entered her realm a short time ago. A mandrake, a dragon, an Apollite, a Deathseer, and a man whose powers they couldn’t identify. Apparently, they’ve befriended Brevalaer.”
She cursed Morgen’s lack of foresight for banishing her toy right into Emrys’s treacherous hands. “A Deathseer, you say?”
“Aye, my lady.”
That could only be the whore’s sister that he’d been forever droning and whining about.
“Now there’s a face for radio. Who pissed in your Wheaties, Narishka?”
Narishka turned a cold, harsh stare from the Adoni before her to the exceptionally tall blond man approaching them. Dressed in green and gold armor like the three Adoni who’d been reporting to her, Arador Pendragon still carried himself as a thief, and spoke in a peasant’s vernacular. As Morgen’s latest paramour and the king of her fey court and Circle, he thought himself the most lethal and capable warrior in all the world.
But he paled in comparison to the once-great Kerrigan, who’d ruled here before him. And not just because Kerrigan was the keeper of the sword Caliburn.
Nay, there had been much about Kerrigan’s dark powers that few surpassed. And no one could touch the skills of her own treacherous son, Varian duFey. While Arador’s merlin powers were impressive, they had a long, long way to go before he could ever begin to challenge some of the more ferocious members of the Lords of Avalon who opposed them.
Or her.
While she might not possess Arador’s Stone of Taranis that could enchant any blade it touched and coat it with a poison so lethal it would bring instant death to anyone it scratched, she was no less dangerous. Indeed, she’d laid many men and women in their graves with a single kiss.
And a knife to their gullets.
Giving him a bow that galled her to the core of her being, she offered him a cold smile. “I didn’t realize you’d returned … Majesty.”
“Careful. That lack of vigilance here could cost you. Your beauty. Your position.” He paused and raked a cool smirk over her body. “Your life.”
She narrowed her gaze on him as that threat made her seethe. Yet she refused to let him know it. Instead, she smiled as if his words didn’t bother her in the least. Because while they angered her, she didn’t see him as a threat. No more than one would a buzzing gnat. “So what brings our king to our counsel?”
“Morgen summoned me.”
“Ah.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Unlike her, he didn’t have the wisdom to keep the anger from his tone.
She bit back a true smile. What it meant was that he was nowhere near the man Kerrigan had been. That rank bastard had never come at Morgen’s behest. Rather, he’d driven her niece to distraction with his endless defiance. And it was one of the reasons why Kerrigan had lasted longer than any other in his reign here.
But Narishka had no interest in helping Arador hold on to his power. Not when it was in her best interest to dethrone Arador before he learned any more of his merlin’s skills and grew strong enough to strike out at them. “’Tis naught. You’ll find her in her bedchamber with Apollo.”
A strange light came into his eyes before he swept past her.
“Arador?”
He paused to glance at her.
“To answer your question … yes, Apollo would love a threesome, and Morgen wouldn’t mind it either.”
His face went stark white. “How did you know what I was thinking?”
“You have your skills. I have mine.” And he should never underestimate hers. “Now, run along. Morgen doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
Turning, he headed off.
The moment he was out of sight, she grabbed the Adoni knight behind her and snatched him closer so that she could whisper in his ear. “Fetch me Maddor. I don’t care what whore you have to pry him off, bring him to me within the quarter hour or it’s your balls I’ll be dining on!” She shoved him away from her. “I’ll be awaiting him in the study.”
With those words spoken, she went to gather her own agents to plan her strategy for this next round.
The Adoni turned on his companions with a hiss. “You heard her! Fetch the mandrake!”
“Fuck you.” Varian duFey slid his knife straight into the lung of the bastard in front of him and held him upright until he stopped struggling. Only then did he use his powers to remove all traces of the fey’s existence.
“Damn, V. That’s so cold.”
Wiping the blood off on the sleeve of his jerkin, he sneered at his hellhound companion. “Oh, like you wouldn’t have bitten his throat out, then licked your own balls.”
“Probably the former, but never the latter. Too many others willing to do that for me.” Kaziel grinned at him. “At any rate, killing an Adoni on an errand for your mother seems a bit reckless when we’re supposed to be keeping a low profile. And to think, Aeron and Nick accuse me of being rash.”
“You are rash, my friend. So rash, it’s actually creeping down your neck.”
“Those are the hives I get from being this close to you when you’re doing something profoundly stupid.” Kaziel glanced down the hallway to make sure no one else was around. “Damn shame to be this near to your mother and she didn’t recognize you.”
“You’ve no idea. But I wouldn’t put anything past her. The main thing for now is that we find Blaise and let him and Emrys know what’s going on. You take Beau and find them.”
Kaziel hesitated. “What about you?”
“We still need more information for our Merlin. I’m after Maddor to see why my mother was so insistent on him. That’s not like her. Which means there’s something peculiar there, and I intend to find out what.”
Kaziel inclined his head to him. As he started away, Varian grabbed his wrist and pulled him into a dark alcove.
They’d barely vanished into the curtained shadows before Morgen’s two newest paramours came down the hallway, grumbling.
“I wish Brevalaer was still here. No one else can handle her when she’s in this foul a mood. How did he manage it for so long?”
“Brevalaer? How did Kerrigan? I swear I can barely walk.”
They paused right in front of their hiding spot so that they could examine each other. “You don’t think we’re infected, do you?”
The dark-haired Adoni bit his lip. “I hope not. They’re feeding the infected to the gallu.”
Cursing, they went on their way.
Varian didn’t move for several heartbeats as he digested that news. “Morgen’s working with the gallu? Why?”
“No idea. But I’m sure nothing good can come of it.”
Something cold brushed against Varian. Quicker than he could think, he drew his dagger and lunged.
The shadow beside him solidified into a man who quickly disarmed him, and tsked. “Careful, coz. I require dinner before someone daggers me.”
He rolled his eyes at the shadowborn demon. Just above average height and well built, Shadow had eyes of steel. And like his very soul, his shoulder-length hair that he wore pulled back into a short ponytail was neither light nor dark, but strands of varying shades that were trapped squarely between his two dueling natures. The man was fearless as a rule, hence his personal motto that he feared no evil, for he was the most evil thing that stalked the darkness and called the deadliest night home. “Careful, demon. You tread on treacherous ground to be sneaking up on me.”
“Sorry about that, but your Merlin sent me to you with news. Emrys and Nimue have fallen.”
Varian gasped at the last thing he’d expected to hear. “What do you mean?”
“Apollo bid his demons assault them. He’s closing the noose around the dragons, trying to get to the dragonstone first. Meanwhile, you have to get the tablet from Morgen before she finds Falcyn’s stone and resurrects Mordred. Otherwise, all is lost.”
“That’s what I was trying to do when you rudely barged in.”
Shadow growled at him. “And saved your life. Let’s not forget the good part.”
“Are you done harassing me?”
“Not even close.” He flashed a cocky grin at Varian. “She also wants you to hand over a portal key.”
Varian laughed. Until he realized it wasn’t a joke. “Is Merlin crazy?” Without a key, he’d be trapped here.
“Probably. She has been inhaling fumes again in her library. However, without Emrys around, the dragon and crew are stuck in the Valley and they have no way to walk through the portals, back to their world. She wants me to escort them through and make sure they’re safe.”
“Can’t you get them through on your own?”
He shook his head. “Shadowalkers can only pass through alone. Without a key, they’d be trapped and forced to wave at me on the other side.”
“Well, that sucks.”
“More than you know.” Shadow held his hand out. “Give it up.”
Grumbling, Varian pulled the dragon key from around his neck and handed it over. “How am I supposed to get back?”
After pocketing the key, Shadow clapped him on the arm. “Sure you’ll think of something. I hear that you’re good in a crisis.”
“You’re such a bastard.”
“’Course I am. Suckled on the tit of all evil itself.”
There was never any shaming the rank demon. He thrived on insults for some unknown reason.
Disgruntled and annoyed, Varian sighed. “And here I thought you were some master thief who could steal a key from anyone you wanted.”
“I can. Unfortunately, they tend to miss such an item quickly and form a search party for it. Last thing we need is them finding our comrades before us. If Falcyn’s stone falls into Morgen’s hands … it’d be as bad as her finding a way to restore the Table.”
There was that.
And Varian’s stomach tightened at the thought. Shadow was right and he knew it. Arthur’s Round Table was just one of several divine objects that had been hidden in the mortal realm and protected by a cadre of guardians who’d sworn a blood oath to keep them out of the hands of evil. To give their lives before they allowed their sacred objects to be used for destructive means.
While they’d won Kerrigan back from Morgen’s Circle, Arador and his charge still remained in her hands. The last thing they could afford was to see any more of Arthur’s mortal or fey objects taken by her members.
Which also made him think of something else. “Question?”
“Not an oracle, but you’re free to attempt it.”
“How is it the sharoc can’t detect you?” Morgen’s cruel allies and spies, the sharoc were shadow fey who thrived at Camelot. Varian had a hard enough time eluding their detection whenever he ventured here on his missions. He’d never understood how Shadow managed it.
“You want secrets I’m unwilling to give.” He passed a gimlet stare to Kaziel, who was being unusually quiet. “The two of you aren’t the only ones with pasts you don’t want disclosed.” And with that, he vanished.
Kaziel crossed his arms over his chest. “You trust him?”
“I don’t trust anyone, other than my wife and children, but he’s never given me a specific reason not to. Why?”
“Just thinking of something Aeron always says. I’d sooner trust my enemy than a friend, as I can afford to lose an enemy. But killing a friend over betrayal burns twice as deep and thrice as long.”
“Your point?”
“No point, really. Just something about that demon makes my hackles rise.”
Varian couldn’t agree more. “Don’t worry. Like you, my bite is much worse than my bark.” And he’d taken enough lives to prove it. If Shadow betrayed them, Varian would have no compunctions about laying open his throat.
Still, there was an evil presence here, and for once it wasn’t his mother or Morgen.
No, this was something far more insidious. Like a blackness trying to devour the world. Like Níthöggur gnawing at the roots of Yggdrasill as he sought to free himself from his prison.
For now it was contained, but his gut said it wouldn’t stay that way.
Kaziel scowled at him. “What’s wrong?”
“Just a bad premonition.”
“Of?”
“What the world would be like if we fail to stop Morgen and Apollo.”
* * *
Morgen watched as Apollo left her bed to dress. Exceptionally tall and golden fair from the top of his blond head all the way to his toes, he was exactly what one would expect of a god.
In and out of bed.
She pouted at him. “Why are you leaving?”
“It’s taking too long to round up the dragon. I don’t like this delay.”
She scoffed at his worried tone. “My men will handle it. They know better than to fail me.”
He rinsed his mouth out and spat before he turned toward her, patting his chin dry. “And I know my son. He was ever resourceful. Not to mention that bitch he serves. Apollymi hates me with a passion. As do her two sons.”
That news shocked her. “Two sons? I thought her one and only son was dead.”
“I wish.” He let out a bitter laugh. “Nay, my evil fairie queen. Not dead. Acheron is hers by birth and conception. Brought back to life by my idiot of a twin sister who wanted to fuck him, and instead screwed the rest of us by her insatiable appetite for an ex-human whore. As for Styxx, he belongs to Apollymi by adoption. To that end, you can count my son as well. Indeed, she oft mothers Stryker more than she does her own.”
“Really…” Morgen’s mind whirled with this newfound information. “Any other brats I need know about?”
He dropped the towel and reached for his pants to pull them on. “You could almost count the Malachai. He is a direct descendent of her firstborn. Granted, a thousand times removed.”
Four sons for Apollymi …
Morgen rose up to lean against Arador, who slumbered in her bed. Worthless prick had no stamina. “Does she consider the current Malachai as one of hers?”
“Not as far as I know. Her loyalty to that end seems to have died with her original son, Monakribos.”
“And what of his father? Was Kissare not supposed to be reborn so that he could return to her?”
Apollo froze in the middle of buttoning his shirt. He blinked slowly before he answered. “He was, indeed.” A slow, evil grin spread across his face. “Why, Morgen, dearest evil bitchtress, I do believe you’ve found something.”
“So he was reborn?”
Laughing, Apollo crossed the floor to her bed and pulled her naked body against his. “I don’t know. But I know who will.”
The Fates.
He didn’t say it, but Morgen knew the answer as well as he did. Those three whores knew everything about everyone.
“And if he does live,” Apollo whispered against her lips, “we will find him and gut him at her feet!”
“I don’t follow. Wouldn’t that be a bit anticlimatic? What’s the point?”
He kissed her lips. “The point is that the goddess of all destruction and darkness has only had three weaknesses in the whole of her life. Kissare, Monakribos, and Acheron.” He nipped at her lips. “Given how frigid a bitch she is, I’m willing to bet that they had more in common than just their mother.”
Morgen’s eyes widened as she finally understood. “You’re thinking that Acheron’s father is Kissare reincarnated?”
He actually drew blood from her bottom lip with his fangs as he pulled back and nodded. “It would explain so much.… Archon swore he would never father a child with her and he went to his nebulous state claiming Acheron wasn’t his son. Had Apollymi truly loved him, she would never have ended him as she did. God knows, she suffered much to protect Kissare and their offspring.”
“Then who’s Acheron’s real father?”
“Only Apollymi knows.”
Morgen smiled at this newfound knowledge and what it signified. “And the Fates.”
“If they don’t, they will learn it.” He gave her one last kiss, then stepped away.
She frowned at his actions. “Where are you off to?”
“To find Kessar. I have another errand for him.”