Brooks

I’ve lost Gwen. She’s with him right now. When I knocked on her door late this morning and got no answer, I made the mistake of peering inside the room. The two of them were fast asleep, tangled in each other’s arms and I saw red. So, she’s made her choice and I failed to protect her from him.

My phone rings as I walk the perimeter of the house. I needed fresh air and separation. Answering without glancing at the screen, I bark a sharp, “Hello.”

“You have to get her out of the house.” Rachel’s urgent tone has the hairs standing on the back of my neck.

“What are you talking about?”

“She has to leave. She has to leave now. They’re coming for her.” The woman’s voice is tight with panic.

“Who?”

“The demons. Something breached our wards. I felt it this morning. Somehow a demon got through.”

I drop the phone and run inside, taking the stairs two at a time. Her room is empty when I burst through the door, the lingering scent of sulphur marking me nervous. All I can think is that she’s been taken. A demon got in and stole her away.

“Gwen!” I shout, running down the hallway, then kicking open Lancelot’s door. Nothing. No one. “Gwen!”

The house is silent, a heavy stillness settling over everything. Have I really lost her? She wouldn’t have left. The mission is too important.

Then I hear them. Soft voices, light giggles from her. I rush downstairs, following the sound and find the two of them in the sunroom, her bare feet on his lap. Unreasonable jealousy rushes through me at the sight.

Lancelot leans close and murmurs something in her ear, then he pulls her hand to his lips and presses soft kisses to her knuckles.

“So, you’ve made your choice?” I ask, not caring that I’m interrupting them yet again.

Lance at least does me the kindness of putting slight distance between them, but he’s pleased with himself. That much is clear by his expression.

“Brooks...I—” she starts, but I hold up a hand.

“Stop. We don’t have time for this. Rachel just called. There’s a demon in the house somewhere. It breached the wards.”

She stiffens. “What? No. We would know.”

“Don’t you smell the sulphur?” I ask.

She bites her lip. Oh, she did smell it. I can tell by the way she casts her gaze up toward where her bedroom is. “I did. This morning.” Lance looks at her with a furrowed brow. “While you were in the bathroom, Lance.” Her cheeks turn bright red and I want to punch him in the damned throat.

His face pales and he stands suddenly, his hand reaching for the invisible sword at his belt. “They’re here.”

Apprehension curls around my heart, the pressure and tension of possible conflict like a vise. “Where?”

He juts his chin toward the field, visible from the wide windows of the sunroom. “Just over that ridge.”

“How on Earth can you sense them?” Gwen asks.

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s Excalibur? Or my demon scar?”

I cock an eyebrow. “You were marked and you didn’t die?”

“I’m still here, aren’t I?” He looks uneasy. “I don’t really know how, but I can sense them.” He’s lying.

Calling on all my grace, I pull power into my hands as Gwen stands and Lance readies his sword. Then, we open the back door and step out onto the picturesque grounds.

Three figures appear over the crest of the hill, dressed in black—neat and tidy as though they were coming for Sunday lunch.

“So, the three of you have found a way to make it work?” Kit asks, a teasing tone in his voice. His eyes are a dull red, power diminished by the light of the sun. “I didn’t take you for a cuckold, Nephilim.”

I bristle at his insinuation, but this is what demons do. They try to goad and poke and prod until their adversary loses focus. “It’s rather fun. You should try it. I’m sure one of your friends there would let you watch.”

His eyes flash. “Perhaps I’ll take your place.”

The thought of him being near enough Gwen to touch her makes my skin crawl. “You can try. You’ll fail.”

The demon grins, closing his eyes and taking a long breath. “From the smell of things, you have failed as well. She’s got Lancelot all over her…inside her. Perhaps history doesn’t always repeat itself.”

“What are you on about?” Gwen asks, cocking one hip.

“Don’t you recognize him?” Kit locks his gaze on Gwen and takes a step forward. The movement has Lancelot putting himself between the demon and Gwen before I can intervene.

Kit’s eyes widen and he backs away. He’s afraid of Excalibur.

“It is interesting,” he muses.

Gwen sighs. “What?”

“That this sword wouldn’t call to you, Brooks. After all…you’re the Pendragon.”

My heart lurches. “I don’t understand.”

“Oh, come off it. You have to know. Why else would you put yourself in this predicament? Arthur’s soul…reincarnated into a Nephilim…doing God’s work. Oh, it’s rather poetic, don’t you think? The spoiled king and his faithless knight and queen. All of you struggling with your power. All of you weakened by the others.”

Gwen’s soft gasp tells me it’s the truth. As soon as Kit said the words I understood. My father telling me we were fated, his insistence that I be the one to aid Gwen, to keep her from Lancelot. All of it comes to one blindingly painful realization. The three of us are destined for heartache.

“Gabriel would have said—” Lance begins, but I rush forward, grabbing Kit by the arm, reckless and angry.

“You underestimate my power, demon.” My angelic grace flows through my hands and up his arm. The veins under his skin glow and he screams. Smoke rises from his flesh as I burn him alive.

Still, through gritted teeth, the demon throws out one final barb. “Morgan says she’ll see you soon, Lance.” The words are strangled and tight with pain, but I feel the tension snap into place behind me.

The other two demons vanish, leaving nothing but scorched grass on the hill, as I take Kit to his knees and send him back to Hell where he belongs. My breath comes in harsh gasps long after he’s gone.

“Is he...” Gwen says but doesn’t finish her question.

I shake my head and let out a long breath as I turn to her. “He’ll be back. I don’t have the power to end him permanently.”

“I did. You should’ve let me take him down with Excalibur.” Lancelot’s tone is harsh and frustrated.

“I intervened because you played right into his hand. He had you distracted.” Dragging a hand over my jaw, I let Kit’s last words roll through my mind. “What did he mean, Morgan will see you soon?”

Lancelot won’t meet my gaze. He shakes his head and starts back toward the house. “We need to rework the wards. When will the coven return to the house?”

The two of us follow after him, unease and discord growing heavy between us. Lancelot tries to open the door, but the wood holds fast. It’s not locked. I have the key. He pushes on the door, chest heaving, frustration rolling off him in waves.

“Lancelot.” Gwen’s voice is hard and commanding. She’s the one keeping him out of the house. She’s using her magic. Part of me thrills at the knowledge she’s growing stronger. “What are you keeping from me?”

“As Brooks stated, I played into his hand earlier. It’s a demon’s goal to rile up their target. I’m sure it was another last-ditch effort to get to me.”

“So, all that talk of Brooks being Arthur? You really think he was lying?”

“Of course, he was lying. Arthur is dead. Long dead.” Lance’s eyes flash a strange rust color before returning to their usual blue.

“Lance, what aren’t you telling us?” I ask.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Reaching out, I place my hand on Lancelot’s arm and close my eyes, using my senses to feel his aura. Sulphur fills my nose and he jerks away as faint wisps of smoke rise from his skin. Shock courses through me as the truth flashes in my mind. “The demon that breached the wards.”

He tenses, glances around and then locks his gaze on mine.

I swallow past the lump in my throat. “It was you.”

Gwen

“Stand back, Gwen,” Brooks shouts, his hand still clutching Lancelot’s arm, smoke rising as my knight begins to shake from pain.

“No. You don’t understand,” Lance protests. “This isn’t what it seems.”

“It seems you’re a bloody demon and you’ve been using Gwen all this time.”

I feel sick. But it can’t be true. Then again, there are things I can’t explain away. The sulphur. The demon breaking our wards. The fact that he didn’t kill Kit as soon as he had the chance. “Lancelot?”

“Gwen, please. I love you.”

“Brooks,” I plead. “Let him go.”

“No. You may be blinded by him, but I can feel it. He’s a demon. I don’t know how he got it past us for so long, but it’s clear now.”

I place a gentle palm on Brooks’ shoulder, willing myself to stay calm. “Exactly. How did he hide it? There has to be something else going on.” I can’t look Lance in the eyes. If I do, my heart may shatter. “I’ll bind him. Until we figure out what’s happened, I’ll bind him with magic and we can hold him somewhere.”

“Don’t speak as though I can’t hear you, Gwen. I’m right bloody here.” Lance’s voice is hard, cold and distant.

“Then explain this to me. Tell me Brooks is wrong. Tell me you’re not a demon. Because this can’t be possible, but when I play over the events from earlier, I can’t understand why you wouldn’t have killed Kit then and there.”

“I…Excalibur wouldn’t…there was no power behind it.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, my stomach turning to stone. There’s only one reason Excalibur would stop working for him.

“It took everything in me to draw the sword. It’s never been a challenge before, and when the hilt was in my grasp, I could feel that it was nothing but a blade. No magic. No power.”

“Why?” I press. I need to hear it from him.

“I’m not sure.”

“And I’m guessing you’ve no idea why Kit passed on a message from Morgan?”

His jaw clenches and those blue eyes of his turn a muddy amber. “Something is happening to me.” The air is scented with sulphur and his arms begin to tremble.

“Gwen,” Brooks warns. “You can’t trust him.”

“Stay out of this, Nephilim.” Lance’s harsh order has me flinching. “It’s not something I chose.”

Dread curls in my gut. “What do you mean?”

“She did something to me in my dream.”

“Morgan is dead.”

He shakes his head and the desperation in his eyes strikes me straight through with fear. “I don’t think so.” Then he holds his wrist out for me to see. A faint puckered scar runs across his skin. “She gave me her blood. And since then, I haven’t felt right.” His face goes pale. “Brooks is right. I think…God, I think she’s turned me into a demon.”

“What are you talking about? She’s dead and gone. Morgan was a witch, not a demon.”

“She told me she was changed long ago. I think she’d been hiding it for a long time.”

“Why would she be after you?” I shake my head. “I don’t understand.”

“I made…a bargain when I lost you. She took my memories of you. I thought it was just going to be a spell. Instead, I forgot you and was trapped in purgatory.”

“Lance—” I start, but he holds up a hand.

“I didn’t think she’d come for me. I didn’t know I’d have to pay.”

“Pay what?”

“She’s coming for me. I’m…hers.”

“No. You’re not hers.” I reach up and cup his face between my hands, pressing our foreheads together. “You. Are. Mine.”

Instead of pulling me into his arms, he shoves me away. “Don’t touch me.”

I fall back, my heel catching on an uneven stone in the path behind me. Lance’s eyes widen in horror as I fall, because he knows what he’s just done.

Brooks is there, catching me before I hit the ground. He puts me behind him, hands glowing with angelic grace. “I’ll kill you if you touch her again, demon.”

I dart in between the two of them, holding my hands out with what remaining power I have building in my chest. “Stop.”

“Get away from me, Gwen.” Lance’s eyes have gone blood red and a snarl rips from his throat. This is not the man I know. He’s not the man I gave my love to only a few hours ago. His hands have curled into claws—actual claws—sharp and deadly.

I do. I back away and Brooks wraps his arms around me while we watch Lancelot wrestle with his darkness. My knight closes his eyes, muscles shaking with effort as sweat beads on his brow. He takes long, deep breaths and I watch the razor-sharp claws disappear. The scent of sulphur dissipates until the air is fresh and clean once more.

When he opens his eyes, they’re blue and he looks completely exhausted. “Gwen…”

“Don’t,” I say, my voice catching. “Don’t come near me.”

I can’t believe he’s kept this from me all this time. He made a deal with Morgan centuries ago. I never kept anything from him…well, except for the fact that I’m a witch. And cursed.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, hanging his head. “I never meant—”

“You never meant to become a fucking demon?” I shout the words. “You’ve ruined it all. The world is going to end because the man we need can’t wield Excalibur. Because you wouldn’t tell me the truth and let me help.”

“I’ll fix it.”

Brooks lets out a short, sharp bark of laughter. “You can’t fix something like this. You made a deal with her. You practically sold her your soul.” He keeps his arm around me. “Have you ever seen someone who has exchanged blood with a demon?”

“I spent hundreds of years locked in purgatory.”

“I’ve seen it. The downward spiral. By the time you’ve turned, you won’t care about anyone or anything.” Lance’s eyes find mine and there’s true terror in their blue depths. “You’ll kill her. You’ll be as vicious as Kit.”

“I’d never hurt her.”

“You already have,” I whisper, wrenching myself out of Brooks’ hold. Lance reaches for me, but I shoot him a glare and open the door. “Leave me be. I can’t look at you right now because all I see is someone who betrayed me.”

My chest hurts and I do everything in my power to hold in the sobs I feel building. I can’t let them out right now. Not until I’m safely behind the walls of my bedroom.

I should have known not to give my heart to Lancelot.

My visions are never wrong.

He’s not the man I end up with.

He never was.