“If he can wield that sword, and prove to me he has the heart of a king, I will allow it.” His fingers curled into fists. “For you, my queen, I will offer this chance.”
“Thank you ...” I felt a sigh of relief from Avalon.
“For one who isn’t a queen in this life,” Arthur began, “you certainly act like one.”
“She is one.” Avalon stood with my help. The sword hummed louder as he looked down.
Arthur watched as Avalon bent down and lifted the sword. Green clashed with gray as I saw Avalon’s hand shake on the handle.
“That sword will reject you if you cannot accept yourself.” Arthur’s voice held a sad warning. “I accepted the monster that I am. Will you do the same?”
“I am no monster.” Avalon stepped away from my grasp and toward Arthur.
“Then what are we?” Arthur didn’t move.
“We are a king. We are a man. We are human.”
Avalon raised the sword and brought it down hard, only for Arthur to block him. “You have to want this.”
I watched in both shock and complete terror as the men I loved fought against each other.
This is only the first battle.
I didn’t want to know what the next one would entail. I stood helpless as Avalon, bleeding and torn, still fought. Arthur held him off, and I realized something. This is what Arthur wanted all along.
“This is what I wanted all along,” a voice whispered.
Jumping, I turned. There was no one.
“Who’s there?” I whispered.
“In order for Arthur to let go, he must have faith in Avalon, and for Avalon to win, he must have faith in me.”
“And if they both come to those conclusions?” I didn’t have time to consider it crazy to speak to nothing. My life no longer held on to logic.
“They shall be victorious.”
If he has faith in me ...
I understood.
“Avalon! Arthur!”
“I’m a little busy, Alexandria ...” I heard the exhaustion in Avalon’s voice.
“Trust him, for God’s sake, Arthur!”
Arthur’s head shot up, and he locked eyes with mine. I saw the sorrow in his eyes.
Trust me.
Arthur closed his eyes for a moment, and then let down his defense. Avalon easily pierced his core and withdrew.
Arthur fell to his knees, his lips stained with blood. I rushed to both of them as Avalon pulled the blond’s head back.
“Wait!”
I heard Avalon growl. “Alexandria, I can’t wait.”
“No, please ...” I laid my hand over Avalon’s. “Let me.”
As if he knew, Avalon nodded and allowed me to say a brief good-bye. Arthur reached for my hands, his breathing labored.
“I do this because I love you. I’ve always loved you ... forgive my anger toward you ... it isn’t fairly placed ...” His eyes dropped to around my neck where the bands had come free from beneath my shirt. “I will see you soon, my love.”
“Promise me?” I forced a smile through tears.
“I vow.”
I felt Avalon’s hand rest on my shoulder. He was gentle and pulled me away from Arthur to finish what he had to.
“No matter what we do in this life, I need you to remember, our queen won the day,” Arthur spoke pointedly to Avalon.
Avalon nodded. “My Queen.”
I had to look away. I knew Sinfonia would pierce Arthur’s heart. Stealing a look as the man from my dreams fell lifeless back to the ground, I choked out a sob.
“Alexandria.” Avalon started walking toward me, but he froze in place. As if rooted to the spot, he couldn’t move.
“Avalon? What’s wrong?”
“Sinfonia, she’s singing.” His eyes were large on the sword in front of him. Even I could hear the beautiful melody coming from its core.
“She’s singing for you.” I gasped.
Vivian had told me should the sword cry, Avalon was dead, but if it sang, Avalon was victorious.
Picking myself up, I started for Avalon, but his voice rocketed me back.
“NO. Don’t come any closer. You have to get out of here, Alexandria.” His face twisted into a look a pain.
“What’s wrong? What’s it doing to you?” Panic overwhelmed me.
Was this a trick?
“I don’t know. I just need you to go.” His eyes pleaded with me. “Just go, Alexandria.”
“I can’t leave you!”
“Go!”
A bright golden light seared my eyes, and I felt myself being tossed back.
I woke in the arms of Lancer, gasping for air as I slammed back into reality. I knew before I even looked that the ring was shattered. It was gone.
“Alexandria, what did you see?” Vivian placed her cool palm over my forehead.
“Avalon, he held the sword. He killed Arthur, but then the sword overtook him.” I choked on a sob. “He forced me out before I could help him.”
Vivian exchanged a look with M. I felt Lancer shift behind me. Turning in his arms, I locked eyes with his. “What if he’s dead?”
Lancer’s face was void of emotion. It frightened me. He had never been this cold before.
“Alexandria, come see.” M’s voice broke our stare.
He said nothing as I walked toward the rack where Avalon lay. M was turning the wheel to loosen the bonds on his wrists and ankles.
I took slow and painful steps. Avalon’s heart wasn’t beating; he had no pulse. I had checked it over and over before I used the ring. It had been almost an hour; there was no way a human body could revive from that long.
I held back a scream as I placed my hand on his chest again. His wound open and blood coagulating from lack of oxygen. There was nothing.
“Avalon ...”
I stood next to the fallen king. I couldn’t cry anymore. I had no more tears. Sorrow consumed me, but I couldn’t say a word.
Vivian stood next to me and reached her hand to touch Avalon’s forehead. She said words in a language I didn’t recognize.
The ground shook.
The candles flickered.
The Priestess’s eyes were locked on Avalon’s face as she chanted words over and over.
“What’s happening?” I looked across the body to M.
“She’s calling him home.”
“What?” I immediately looked down.
A golden hue touched Avalon’s skin. A sound of thunder shook the ground again, and I fell backward. Lancer caught me, looking just as concerned as I was.
Vivian continued her chanting, raising her hands upward.
Lights of blue, gold, and green swirled above the rack where Avalon lay lifeless. I held onto Lancer tightly. They circled in figure eights and spiraled down, entering his body. All I could do was watch helplessly.
A white light tangled with silver and entered his parted lips. His back bowed on the table, and a terrible crackling sound made it seem like the building was going to fall. Cowering, I still couldn’t pull my eyes away.
His open wound began to heal, closing in on itself, and an invisible hand swept the blood away. This was either magic or divine intervention. I didn’t know which.
It was over in an instant, but it felt like forever. The golden hue faded, and a loud thump-thump echoed through the cellar. Vivian collapsed into M’s arms.
I waited, focusing on Avalon’s chest.
Breathe.
Another loud heartbeat tore through the space.
Breathe.
His chest finally rose and fell in a steady rhythm.
I didn’t run to him. Instead, I walked carefully up to the rack and examined his body. It was as though nothing happened. There were no more scars on either his chest or cheek. I looked down at his secured wrists. In a panic, I started to untie the ropes. As I released his left hand from its binding, something caught my eye.
On the inside of his wrist, there was now a tattoo. Moving down to his left ankle, I found another
symbol over the top of his foot.
“M ... I think you need to see this.” I rushed around to the right and untied, seeing the same thing.
The older man studied what I had found, and he covered his mouth with his hand.
“My God, Viv ...”
“What happened? What are these marks?” I moved back to Avalon’s head. I wanted him so badly to open his eyes. He was breathing, but who was in there. Which man would it be?
Vivian gathered herself and joined M, touching the marks with her fingers. She pulled back his shirt, and on his left ribcage, another symbol graced his muscular form.
He looked, bigger, broader. If that was even possible for Avalon.
Vivian pulled M into an embrace. It was the most emotion I had ever seen her give to another person.
“What does it mean?” I stared at his sleeping face, pleading him to wake.
“He won, Alexandria. He’s back,” Lancer said in a low voice from a safe distance away.
The sound of movement beneath me called my attention back to Avalon. His body tensed, his fingers flexed, opening and closing slowly. I stepped back, not knowing what I was so afraid of.
Avalon’s head turned from side to side before he groaned. He pushed himself to the right side, his shirt slipping from his shoulders. I couldn’t help but admire the way his muscles flexed under his weight. He sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the rack. I watched him study his hands and wrists, touching the symbols.
I couldn’t wait any longer.
“Avalon ...”
He stood, and he stood taller, his wide shoulders causing me to take a step back. I prayed he would remember me, remember us. I just wanted Avalon back.
He walked down the long side of the rack, turned the corner, and strode right to me. I didn’t know why, but I lowered myself to my knees, balling my hands in my lap waiting. I was submitting myself to him ... why?
He’s your king, and you know that now.
Swallowing hard, my heart skipped when his voice cut the silence.
“Alexandria?”
Closing my eyes, I felt tears stinging the corners of my eyes, but they weren’t tears of sorrow.
I sniffed. “My Lord.”
I heard him chuckle, his voice held an extra note of softness. It was as if he and Arthur mixed perfectly.
“Are you crying again?”
“Yes.” I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand.
“Why?”
“Because I’m so happy you’re okay.”
I saw his hands in front of my face, the intricate wings tattooed elegantly along his skin. Taking his hands, he lifted me back to my feet.
I was afraid to look. I was afraid to see which man stood before me.
“I keep my promises, Alexandria. Look at me; you are all I’ve wanted to see.”
His finger gently hooked under my chin, and he raised my eyes to meet his.
My breath caught.
His eyes.
They were still the beautiful gray that I knew, but there was something more. In the center of his gray, a starburst of emerald glowed softly. He was still there. I hadn’t lost either one of them.
“Arthur ...” I held my breath. “Avalon?”
He shook his head with a smile. “There is no one or the other anymore. I am home, Alexandria. I’m free.”
New York, NY
Four years ago ...
Epilogue
John
I ran through the wet streets as fast as I could. I jumped over trashcans and wove my way through homeless camps. I could hear the dogs and sirens at my heels. I pushed myself until my lungs burned and my legs threatened to betray me.
I took a long jump off a garbage can and onto a chain-linked fence. I scaled to the top and hoisted myself over.
I just have to make it to St. Paul’s.
Reminding myself of my destination, I dug deeper and saw the lights from the church ahead of me. I banged on the doors reserved for helping those in need.
“Sister Mary.” I panted. “I need to stay here tonight.”
The older woman’s green eyes studied my golden. With a sigh, she heard the sirens and pulled me inside.
“I swear, child, you are going to get yourself killed.”
“Nah, they gotta catch me first.” I smirked.
“How old are you, John?”
Her question made me halt my steps. A part of me flushed with shame.
“Twenty-four.”
“Shouldn’t you be out of college and starting a career?” Her voice was gentle, but I knew it was her way of saying the path I was on was playing with fire.
“Maybe someday.” With a wink, I slung my backpack over to my opposite shoulder. “Same room?”
“Yes. You know the drill.”
“Thanks, Sis.” With a mock salute, I headed down the hall and made my way to the stairs that would lead me to the second-floor rooms. I had to pass the sanctuary, though.
It always gave me a strange feeling, as if I was too dirty to be caught in a house built for God. I passed the opening to the sanctuary. I usually just walked by with my head down.
For whatever reason, I didn’t tonight. I saw a blond woman kneeling at the altar. Her voice was low, melodic as she spoke her prayers in Latin. I walked down the aisle toward her, tilting my head.
She continued her prayers even when I loomed over her. I didn’t know why I was so close; I was being a real creeper.
“Would you like to join me?”
I jumped back when I heard her speak to me. “Umm, what?”
“Would you like to pray with me?” Her kind blue eyes smiled up at me.
Whoa, she was gorgeous.
And she was British!
Flashing a half smile, I shoved my hands into my pockets. “What’s a pretty thing like you out here in the city? It’s late, and it’s dangerous.”
She chuckled. “For you maybe but not for me.” She patted the spot next to her. “Come, I’ll teach you.”
I shook my head. “I don’t pray.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t believe in that shit.”
Her face clouded when I swore, so I plopped down next to her. I let my arms rest on the rail. I saw her staring at my tribal tattoos that started at my wrists and went all the way up my arms and spread to my chest, back, and legs.
“You like tats?”
“They are interesting.” She offered a smile.
“Well, teach me to pray.”
Nodding, she closed her eyes and inhaled. “What is it you feel like you are most lacking?”
The question caught me off guard. “I-I don’t know. How do you mean?” I scratched through my short-cropped hair.
“What is it you most feel that you need to find in this life? Peace? Love? Grace?” She arched a brow at me.
With a nervous laugh, I couldn’t look her in the eye. “I don’t know. I probably need them all.”
“You had them all at one point.”
I frowned. “Had all of what?”
“The fruits of the spirit. You weren’t born not to know them, John Alexander.”
I swallowed hard.
She knew my name.
“Are you a cop?”
Her musical laugh eased my worry. “Oh no, I’m not a police officer. I don’t enforce those rules.” She waved her hand.
I laughed with her and dared to ask. “What rules do you enforce?”
Without missing a beat, her face fell from smiling to dead serious. “God’s.”
I choked on my laughter.
“Stop this now, John. If you don’t, life will be over faster than you know.”
I blinked, and she was gone.
I threw myself away from the altar and scrambled backward.
What the hell?
Heart racing, I picked up my backpack and rushed to my normal room. I sat on the bed, mixing together my nightly cocktail. I pulled the white packet from my pocket and carefully emptied its contents onto the old, m
etal spoon I kept with me. I poured a bit of water over it and stirred the mixture with the needle. I flicked my lighter on and watched my release cook itself into a clear, bubble mix.
Once I was sure it was ready, I tore a piece of cotton from a Q-tip in my bag to use as a filter. I drew the syringe back, and the vial filled with bliss. I pushed the remaining air out, tapping the syringe lightly.
Excited, I tied the thin sheet around my arm, exposing abused veins to the dim light. Like a master of his craft, I hit on the first time and slowly injected the poison.
Falling back onto the pillow, I released the sheet around my arm and exhaled. Maybe I was just withdrawing too hard, and I hallucinated? My vision grew dim, and that familiar rush of euphoria claimed me.
THREE WEEKS LATER
I had never been this sick in my life. My entire body ached. My skin hurt to the touch. I shivered between hot and cold and my stomach cramped.
When I fell on the steps of St. Paul’s this time, Sister Mary didn’t question me. She knew I was sick. She and a few of the other nuns set me up in bed and started swapping rounds babysitting me.
I wouldn’t lie—it was appreciated.
As I rolled around in bed, I thought about my life. I didn’t grow up in a bad home or in a bad neighborhood. I was a star on my school’s athletic teams and an above average student. My parents adored me ... well ... they had.
I moved to the city for school—to study to be a lawyer, no less. Mixing myself in the club scene wasn’t a good idea. I lost everything—my apartment, my scholarship, even the woman I swore I would make my wife.
Groaning, I turned away from the white wall and almost fell out of bed in terror. There she sat, on a chair, just glowering at me.
“Wha-what are you doing in here?” I struggled to sit up, but nausea sat me back down. I swore there was a glow around her.
“I am here to ask you again, John. Are you ready to pray?”
“Who the fuck are you?” I backed myself into the wall behind me.
“My name is of little matter. What does matter is that I know the outcome of your life if you do not help yourself.”
As if she were my mother, she reached her hand up and brushed the hair from my forehead. Her fingers were cool to my heated skin.
“Are you an angel?” My throat stuck as I swallowed.
The Duke's Curse (Legend Book 2) Page 18
