by Helen Scott
“Morgana?” Rhys let out a hiss. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Before either of us could wonder what the fuck was going on, Cade raised his hand, and his arm slashed quickly across his chest. Even as I screamed his name, his chest was scored with red long before a knife glinted silver in the light. His blood gushed from the wound on his chest, and the women all screamed, their shrieks high with fright and panic.
My pursang roared to the surface with such haste, that adrenaline didn’t even begin to describe how messed up my body chemistry was.
She wanted Cade’s blood, but she wanted the females’ too.
Women who had seen her mate in a state of undress. Women who had lusted after him. Craved the feel of his skin against theirs. Who’d imagined his cock and had thought about him in bed.
The pursang was in charge.
Undeniably.
Indefatigably.
And at that moment, I was nothing but her toy.
The first female’s throat, I tore out. For a second, the others ceased screaming and just gaped at me before they took off, one of them trying and failing to open the door because who knew door knobs were so complicated, while the other two headed toward Cade. Their fear had them acting like headless chickens, and unfortunately for them, the pursang took their approach as a threat.
“What the fuck is happening?” I heard the scream, heard the horror, but I didn’t care.
My hands turned into claws, and I thrust them into the female’s chests, breaking bones, ripping at tender tissues, not stopping until two beating hearts were in my grasp.
Nails tore at veins and arteries, and within seconds, I dragged them back, out from between the cavities I’d created in the stylists’ torsos.
They didn’t even have a chance to gurgle as they died, and with the lack of screams, a sudden calm overcame me.
I peered around, saw all my mates gaping at me, and noticed that Rhys and the Cavalry were gawking too.
Unease overcame me, as well as guilt. Then, I remembered Cade. He was on his knees, blood gushing from his wound. I skidded on blood as I dropped down to face him, and crouching down, I licked along the score he’d made on his chest. The gash was big, dangerous, and blood pooled around him. My cravings reached a fever pitch as I swallowed him down whole.
As the wound sealed, the blood was heavy on my tongue, and even though I felt grounded in the moment, I was torn free from the hallway. Suddenly, I wasn’t there; I wasn’t anywhere. I was in a field of mist, of whiteness. I spun in a half circle, wondering where I was, and fear started to encompass me, but equally, excitement chased it like the second pick horse after the favorite at the Kentucky Derby.
The two made me feel nauseated. Dueling emotions that were at the opposite end of the emotional spectrum should never be felt at the same time, but here I was, heart beating with both concerns.
Another spin on my heel revealed nothing new, just more white fog, and then, from amid that fog appeared a golden glow.
It was sharp enough, bright enough, to make me squint against its rays, and even as I did that, I lifted my arm and shielded my eyes from the intensity of the light barraging my senses.
Amid that golden glow, a female appeared.
She was small, slender. Her hair was as red as my own, her face—
“What’s happening?”
The woman smiled at me, and it wasn’t evil or cruel. There was no malice buried within. It was warm and soft, caring even. It seemed pathetic to admit that I’d never been looked upon like that by another woman in the entirety of my life.
Women had always loathed me.
Always.
I’d never known why, just known that I was easily disliked. Easily loathed by those of my gender, which pretty much sucked donkey balls when you were in an all-girl Academy.
But whoever this woman was?
She didn’t hate me.
It was a revelation.
“Child,” the creature purred.
“Who are you?”
“I am Morgana.”
I gaped at her, then whispered, “You Sleep.”
“I am close to Awakening, but not yet, not yet. I still need rest.”
“What are you waiting for?” Then, I shook my head. “Why do I look like you?” I managed to croak out because that question right there was more important than any other fucking question I could ask.
I looked like her. So damn much it was freaky. In fact, no, it wasn’t freaky. It was beyond that. So far beyond that, that I wasn’t sure there was an adjective which covered just how messed up this situation was.
“You are born of me, are you not? Just as your mates are of your Sires.”
I frowned. “What? You mean… my mates look like your siblings?”
She smiled again. “Indeed. You are a second chance.”
“Second chance?” I croaked again. I wasn’t sure where my voice had gone, but gone it most assuredly had.
“He Awakens,” Morgana whispered, her head tilted to the side, almost as though she could hear him, whoever he was, Awaken.
And I said that because I didn’t think she was talking about her brother Arthur.
“The Lady will come to you soon. She will speak with you, help guide you on your path. Only through her will you learn of what must be done. He must not stir. He must remain where he is. Only Mother Earth can hold him captive, but his prison is not of iron. It is of the soil, of the earth. He can break free if someone helps him.”
I licked my lips, which suddenly made sandpaper feel soft and silky. “What are you talking about?” I rasped. “I don’t understand.”
“Thirteen brothers. Thirteen vows.” Her red hair slipped over her shoulders as raised her chin to stare deep into my eyes. “Seven for the good, six for the bad.”
“Good? Bad? Please,” I implored, “tell me what you’re talking about!”
“There are those who fight for my siblings and I. Then there are those who seek Merlin. He must not Awaken,” she stated, and this time her words boomed, seeming to echo around the vast whiteness that covered me in a mist that was blinding.
“O-Okay, we’ll make sure he won’t,” I stuttered, trying not to whimper with fear.
Morgana reached out, and I felt her hands trail down my arms in a comforting caress. “All will be well. Take your mate, make him yours, then seek your father.”
“My f-father? What does he have to do with anything?”
Morgana didn’t reply, just hummed under her breath. “You will learn that when you are strong enough. For now, sup and recharge. You must be well for the battle ahead.”
The women.
My mouth worked.
Had Rhys brought the stylists in for a feast?
Had Morgana spoken to him? Made him invite them along? Was that why he’d decided to help me?
Suddenly, I felt nauseated.
I’d killed four innocent women.
“Not innocent,” Morgana rasped. “Sinners. Each of them.”
“What had they done wrong?” I heard the plea in my voice, the desire to cast those I’d murdered in the darkest of lights to redeem myself.
“You need no redemption. You are my daughter. You may do what you wish. But you must feed. Take your mate,” she repeated. “Make him yours, then seek your father.”
My throat closed, and her words seemed to be on constant replay as she moved farther away from me, the light dimming as she disappeared without a trace.
The next time I blinked, I was back in the foyer.
My mates had circled me and were staring down at me as though I were a rabid dog. Darius, though, the look in his eyes about floored me.
“We can delay no longer, Marcella,” he declared grimly. “You are unstable.”
Was I?
Or had I been pushed into this by an Ancient with a game of whose rules I had no means of understanding.
Spinning around was easy considering the floor was coated in blood. I stared at Rhys, stared at hi
m hard, and saw the truth in his eyes.
“Traitor,” I whispered.
“No,” he countered, his tone free from any guilt. “Just doing what needs to be done. You have no time for a date,” he sneered. “No time for that. You must claim him. You must feed. You must go to your father.”
“Her father?”
My mates whispered the words, but I ignored them, ignored them all, as I glared my hatred at Rhys.
“You will thank me one day, little warrior.”
My mouth tightened and I turned back to Cade. He was sitting there, on his knees still, but his head was slumped, his shoulders rounded, and I realized he was asleep.
What the fuck was wrong with my mate? Morgana had gotten to him too?
Could I trust anyone?
Chapter Nine
Cade
I felt her hands on my shoulders, her skin sliding against my own.
The dreams were driving me insane. I wasn’t sure what was real and what was fantasy, but I just knew that whatever kind of hell this was, at least they let me have my mate.
She was here.
With me.
I could feel her, even if I couldn’t see her.
“Help me take him outside.”
I could hear her too, it would seem. Her voice shot down my nerve endings, sending liquid silk through my body. A shudder whispered down my frame before I felt myself being hauled upright and forcibly moved.
The second the sun touched me, I moaned. Maker, that felt good. Too good.
The heat warmed my bones, seemed to send fire alongside Marcella’s silk in my veins. I could feel the power, could feel the regenerative touch, whereas these past few days the sun had only been a drain. The heat too sapping, the energy around it taking away everything that made me me.
I loved the sun.
I was a walker. Though half of me responded to the moon, thanks to my Vampire half, the walker was more powerful and preferred the gold of day to the silver of night.
My lids fluttered open and I saw I was outside. The pool, with its epic landscaping that made the water look as though it were being fed from a mountain range, glistened and glittered like diamonds as it refracted the sun’s rays, seeming to hit me as though I were a target on a dart board.
Someone tugged my chin.
Marcella.
It took a while for my gaze to follow her, to leave the pool, then, still in a daze, I heard her whisper, “Need you to turn back time.”
I blinked at her, then heard Barclay snap, “Look at him, Marcella. He isn’t strong enough to keep his head lifted, never mind to turn back time.”
Marcella’s nostrils flared as though she were scenting something. “Morgana called to him in her dreams, she…” Her throat worked, and I saw how stained she was with blood.
Where had that come from, I wondered.
“I didn’t do any of that because I’m a monster,” she eventually whispered. “I did that because Cade came downstairs half naked, then he sliced his chest open with a knife. My pursang was already on red alert because she was jealous, and then when he did that?” Her jaw clenched. “I had no choice.”
“There’s always a choice.”
A hiss escaped her at Barclay’s stubborn tone.
“I’m trying to make it right. If Cade can turn back time—”
“He already tried that and look what happened,” Keiran grated out.
I had tried, hadn’t I? When Gideon had been stabbed back in the bank.
A hum escaped me and the noise had my brothers and mate finally shutting their mouths. I blinked at her, feeling as though I were in a stupor, and whispered, “Join with me.”
She didn’t argue, and neither did I when I felt her powers cling to mine. It was strange. Surreal. I’d never felt the like until her, but now, it was as if my walker half was deep in her embrace.
“Join with Keiran and Raven,” I prompted again, and I knew I sounded like I’d just come back from the dentist office and was high on codeine, but there was no helping it. Sure, I was spaced, but I also knew what I was doing.
I was born to do this, after all.
I just needed a little help getting there.
At the mention of their names, they both stiffened behind me, and another hum escaped me as I felt the power of the four of us combine, creating a warm glow in my chest.
“Now Gideon,” I sighed.
She linked with my druid brother, and suddenly the sun wasn’t my only point of connection to this plane of existence, but the earth itself. I felt the ants walking under me in the soil beneath the tiled terrace, I could hear a bird cawing overhead as though they were whispering in my ears. I could feel the heaviness in the clouds that spoke of a storm approaching—a rarity in itself in these parts.
“Now Barclay,” I continued, needing Marcella to connect with her brotherhood in stages so as not to fizzle my waning strength in one go. Sure, I was exhausted. I was beyond that if I was being honest, but this was important.
And not only because we needed to join together for the first time.
The second the six of us were connected, I felt the charge in the air like lightning had just struck the earth beside us a second before.
“Now Darius.”
He was here. Somewhere. I wasn’t sure if he was behind Marcella, or if he was just lurking, watching. An outsider who was somehow integral to this union.
This time, I felt Marcella struggle.
The lack of a complete bond was her downfall, and whatever happened, tonight that would change. She would unite with Darius or it would be to our doom.
Her pursang was the only way she could grab a hold of Darius’s, and I felt the danger whizz around the circle. A danger that was forged in blood. Her hunger was there, at the surface, making the scent of the dead in the foyer all the more pungent, all the more appetizing. Only Barclay didn’t feel it, but I could feel his fur brush against my calf—indicating that Marcella’s joining with him had triggered the shift.
When our union was complete, a sigh whispered from me. It wasn’t as strong as it would be soon, but it would do.
I opened my eyes and heard her gasp when I looked at her.
Before she could say anything, I tilted my head back against the shoulder behind me—by the scent of him, Gideon—and allowed him to keep me upright.
Staring into the sun, I felt my eyes begin to leak as I called on the most basic of all earth’s magics—time. More than dreams, more than the mind, more than the elements themselves, every living creature was touched by its passage. It led us to death, inevitably dragging us toward an end that none of us, not even the most Ancient, foresaw.
I allowed myself to be lulled by the sun’s call. That benevolent energy who gave and gave, who burned so we may live, and I pleaded with it. My approach was not like before. I knew that like I knew my eyes were burning. Before, I’d demanded. I’d been arrogant. Cocksure. I’d even been dismissive, ungrateful of the sacrifice.
Now?
I cajoled.
I asked.
I offered myself in sacrifice.
A whimper escaped Marcella and I wondered if she could feel it. Could feel my offering.
The sun bowed to my pleas, taking time in its molten core and reverting it. Taking us back, minutes, hours, I wasn’t sure how long. It could have been five seconds or fifty minutes; I just felt the way it shifted.
My heart was beating, my eyes were aching, and my head felt like it could burst into flame, but it had worked. Unlike the bank, this time, it had worked.
Before I knew what was happening, I heard a knock at the door.
Marcella stiffened in front of me, but her pursang was caged in our union of seven.
“The stylists,” Gideon rasped.
“They’re alive. It worked,” Darius replied.
“Well done, Cade,” Raven whispered, his hand moving to my shoulder, squeezing me softly. “I think we need to get him back to bed.”
“No,” I argued. “The sun. I
need it. She needs me.”
“She?” Gideon snorted, but I felt him grab my arm and drag it over his shoulder as he helped haul me somewhere—I didn’t know where, my eyes weren’t working. They were blind. Truly blind.
I felt the soft cushions beneath my body give way as the stuffing parted at my weight, and let myself rest upon one of the outdoor divans Darius had scattered around the place.
Settling in to rest, I kept one ear cocked as I heard Marcella say, “Rhys manipulated me, Darius.”
“Morgana manipulated us all,” I corrected softly, remembering the dream, remembering her whispers. Insidious. Cunning.
“Morgana was evil,” Darius gritted out. “As bad as Merlin but with fewer powers. The Four aren’t as good as the Cavalry would have you believe.”
“Then why let them speak on the subject?” Marcella retorted. “Why not fill us in on the information yourself?”
“With them present, there was no alternative, Mate. They are stringent in their views.” I didn’t have to look at him to know he was clenching his jaw in irritation. “I was going to wait until they left to clarify things.”
“What do you mean?” Gideon demanded, a surge of temper making his voice deepen, and from the remnants of the link, I felt him call on the earth to calm himself down.
“Was Mussolini evil?”
“Huh?” Raven—ever eloquent.
Darius hissed, “Was Mussolini evil?”
“Yes, of course, he was,” Marcella snapped.
“But so was Hitler. Who was worse?” There was silence until Darius continued, “Hitler may be considered the greater evil, but that doesn’t take away from what Mussolini did.” He waved a hand. “They’re just an example, but Merlin and his children are naught but the same. Morgana was the most like Merlin. Her magic was blood born, and that made her bloodthirsty. Morgause was the most gentle, and the animals kept her grounded, but even she ruled with an iron fist. Arthur was petty and spiteful, and Elayne was the least volatile because she had the elements at her disposal.”
“You talk as though you met them,” Marcella whispered, a mixture of dread and awe in her voice.
“As long as I’ve lived, Marcella, it would indeed be strange if I hadn’t. They Awaken periodically, and the Cavalry are there to tend to their whims. They are naught but their maidservants.” He cleared his throat. “At least, in my opinion.”
