‘Regardless, you can’t blame a sixteen-year-old boy.’
‘He’s not sixteen now. What justice has my mother had these eleven years? I am her kin. It’s my duty to avenge her!’
Ava looked at me with sorrow, shifting her weight back, avoiding my touch, as I leaned over the bed. Too late, I became self-conscious of the aggression with which I snatched up the sword, the strain in my vocal cords as I’d shouted.
‘Vengeance is not justice,’ she said.
‘It is for a heathen. I will never turn the other cheek. Not when it comes to protecting those I love.’
‘You can’t protect the dead.’
‘You can look them in the eye when it’s your turn to walk through the veil,’ I said, storming to the door, Ava’s bewildered thoughts clawing at my back.
‘Is that what you are then, heathen?’
I paused, glad she couldn’t see my cheek twitching. He’s out there somewhere. Watching us. I need this. I need to hurt him. ‘What of it?’
‘And your god condones savagery?’
‘My gods aren’t known for their mercy. Menelaus destroyed my family. Now I will destroy him.’ The door handle squeaked. I yearned to discard my rage and return to her side, to relish her. But even absent, Menelaus was destroying our reunion.
‘Wait!’ She rushed forward. ‘If you hurt him, Theo, you’re not the boy I knew.’
He knows Theo couldn’t pull the wings off a fly. My own mother had said those words once. Julian – a decade ago – had argued to strip my powers. And with increasing conviction, I believed it was his driver who had tortured me over the whereabouts of the amulet. It was his ‘son’ who killed Mum as she attempted to shield me from Praetoriani interference. As much as I desired Menelaus’ death, this went deeper than him.
Let’s hope when I cut him, he bleeds answers. ‘You knew a boy who had a mother. I’m not that boy anymore.’
48
Blood At Dawn
I found Menelaus lurking on the border of the Old Vicarage, dressed entirely in black and green. Lorenzo stepped onto the driveway, savouring the moments of freedom from Malachi, who was trapped inside by the daylight. Tumultuous storm clouds churned overhead, black streaks warring with the blood of dawn. I watched the sky, witnessing the bloody fight within myself.
‘I can’t smell him. Are you sure he’s ’ere?’
I gave him a look. ‘We’re not in the Forest of Dreams anymore. I know what I bloody well saw.’
Lorenzo shrugged awkwardly, the only hint that a veiled bow and quiver were slung over his back.
‘Hunt with me,’ I said.
‘I thought you’d never ask.’
‘This could mean murder, Lorenzo. You need to know that.’ But he was already itching, fingers biting into his palm. He craved action, a break from his stasis.
‘Does he deserve it?’
I glanced back at the house, thinking of Ava’s condemnation. She hadn’t followed me out. ‘Your professor ran my mother off a cliff. You tell me.’
‘That’s all I need to know.’ He tapped the necklace in the centre, and found the newly revealed bow on his back, swinging it round to his chest. I pulled my sword from its scabbard, the sky reflecting in its shiny surface. ‘We’ve already saved a life together,’ he said, ‘maybe it’ll balance the books if we take one.’
We hid in the canopy of an old oak by the church. ‘Careful,’ I said, ‘my uncle’s clan aren’t called the Swift Arrows for nothing.’ I steadied Lorenzo’s wobbly grip. ‘They carve bows from ancient yew trees and spell them with bind runes. Aim true and those arrows can fly round corners. Only fire if necessary.’ At least his arrows weren’t the poison-tipped variety, like Nikolaj’s.
‘If he runs, I’ll shoot.’
‘Are you sure you’re okay with this? I can do it alone.’
Lorenzo scoffed. ‘If it makes you feel better, when I decide to track down my good-for-nothing Papa, you can help me bury the body.’
‘What did he do?’
Lorenzo outlined a childhood that felt the more brutal for the details he skirted around.
‘I’ll start digging the grave right after I’ve smoothed the dirt over Menelaus’.’
Lorenzo stood in the branches, peering through the foliage. ‘The Minotaur is heading for our trap, Theo. Time to hunt.’
Raindrops wriggled in rivulets down Lorenzo’s bare chest and dripped from his ruffled hair. The brewing storm shared his potential for violence, as if during that first night in Oakley Park – when he avoided the rain but not his fate – he had absorbed the weather’s destructive energy.
If someone had told him that before summer started the world would become a patchwork of new and ancient odours, some sensual in their delicacy, others rank, that he would bare fangs, surviving thanks to corrupted Elvish blood, and that a warlock – inexplicably his greatest confidant – had him crouched in a tree ready to fire an arrow into his professor, well…
And yet here I am. He tuned his ears to Theo’s low, rasping voice, and Menelaus’ wolfish growl. The Guardian rivalled Theo’s height and stature, but his shoulders hunched under corded muscle, and from this angle, and out of lecturer’s tweed, Lorenzo might have invented the Minotaur’s nickname himself.
‘Theo,’ said Menelaus, and it was a plea, the ache rolling out in the syllable. ‘You don’t belong with varmint.’ Keen hazel eyes skimmed the sword, the blade pulsing with its own energy, veiny steel dreaming of blood. Theo twirled his wrist, snapping it across his body, ready to strike out at any moment.
‘I don’t belong anywhere,’ said Theo, and Lorenzo felt a pang of recognition.
What about Hellingstead Hall? Lorenzo wondered. Why weren’t Espen and Nikolaj helping Theo fight Menelaus?
‘You have a home,’ Menelaus said, but somehow, it sounded wrong, the words loaded with jealousy.
‘I had a wonderful home, Menelaus Knight.’
A trace of a frown, and Menelaus’ heart skipped a beat. Now Lorenzo focused on the hammering sound, it seemed obvious he’d been skulking on De Laurentis land all along. ‘I am Lorenzo’s Guardian. I’m only here to watch over him.’
Theo deflected his claim with a shrug. ‘Tell me; were you as lethal to your own mother as you were to mine? Is that why you were abandoned at the church?’
‘How do you know that?’
‘I’ll be the one asking questions.’ Theo brandished his sword.
The ensuing silence was drowned out by the insects at work in the graveyard; having left old bones alone, they built homes and scurried for food, their noisy lives an itch in Lorenzo’s ears. He focused on readjusting the arrow, choosing his target with lethal precision. It felt light and flexible in his hands – natural.
Menelaus lurched forward. ‘Touchy subject?’ said Theo, hopping back and scuffing his boot on the edge of a crumbling tombstone.
‘Put the sword down before you get yourself into real trouble.’
‘Why?’ Theo said, his chuckle a dry husk, ‘Are you going to arrest me for a Code violation? Or are you planning to run me off a cliff too?’
‘Theo, I’m sorry. I was a boy—’
The blazing sword sliced the air, narrowly missing Menelaus’ cheek. He reared back, ducking under the next swipe before barrelling into Theo’s waist, grasping nothing but air. A heavy boot crunched into Menelaus’ calf, and a sharp elbow cracked a back rib, knocking his chin against the tombstone.
Lorenzo jittered with excitement as Menelaus made his recovery, leaping over the stone, and using it as a shield as he rolled out the way of Theo’s wild thrusts. ‘Why did Julian send a boy to spy on Clemensen warlocks? What did he think would happen?’ The air sliced apart as the blade swished above Menelaus’ head.
‘I had to prove myself.’
‘Did they reward you for ticking Isobel’s name off their list? Did you feel proud?’
Menelaus jumped to his feet, flustered by the provocation, realising too late that he’d stepped into a trap. Lorenzo
watched their prey with fascination, waiting for that moment of resignation or denial, the attempt at flight.
Neglected weeds tied up Menelaus’ ankles like an endless ball of twine. Theo smirked. ‘Here’s a game. Turn invisible and we’ll play a kind of reverse Guardian piñata. I won’t know which limb I’ve sliced off until you turn back.’
‘This is crazy.’
‘Alternatively, I can lop your head from those broad shoulders. Or your hands – those strong hands – the ones you touched Ava with.’
‘Ava? What’s she got to do with this?’
‘Tick-tock.’ Theo raised the sword.
‘I can’t turn invisible, okay? The magistrates stripped my powers as a punishment for Isobel’s death.’
Theo paused. ‘So you admit you murdered her?’
‘Yes! No! It was an accident. Don’t you think every second since I’ve wished I handled it differently? That I had reached her in time, pulled her back over the edge?’
Theo glanced over at the church and shook his head. ‘Someone has to pay for it.’
Menelaus’ harried thoughts fought for supremacy, plans forming and collapsing like one-second stars, but he was lost facing this dreaded face, opal eyes glowing from angry heat, and something else, an oceanic power in his gaze, churning in an endless tide of magic and grief. ‘Please, Theo. I know what it’s like to grow up without parents. I would never inflict that on someone deliberately.’
‘I will free you if you answer my questions truthfully.’
A fair deal, thought Menelaus, but one that made a mockery of the official secrets contract he’d signed on becoming a Guardian. ‘Shoot,’ he said, instantly regretting his choice of words, as he looked up and spotted Lorenzo perched in an oak, an arrow pointing straight at his heart.
‘Who’s Elspeth?’ Theo asked.
‘I have no idea.’
‘Why did Julian send thugs to kidnap and torture me?’
Menelaus gaped. ‘What the fuck are you talking about?’
‘That’s not an answer.’
‘Your accusation is ridiculous. My father would never order such a thing.’
‘Adoptive father?’
‘Yes, so?’ A wariness built up in his chest as Theo continued to batter him with questions. ‘You’re telling me, Julian wouldn’t break the rules, not even to find the amulet?’
‘What amulet?’ What am I missing? Menelaus thought. ‘You mean that old necklace Ava is looking for?’ He wasn’t sure why he said it, why those particular wires fused in his brain. Yes, Julian had encouraged him to go out with Ava, the same girl who had pounced on him in his own office, asking about Theo bloody Clemensen, his current interrogator and possible executioner. Did absolutely everyone in the world hate him?
A convoluted realisation spread over Theo’s body, enough to tell Menelaus he knew nothing of Ava’s search, but he was interested in it. What was so important about this necklace? Was Ava in danger?
‘Did you tell Julian about Ava?’
Menelaus shook off the guilt that slipped over his body, as green as Theo’s cloak, gathering just as tightly around his throat as the hammer clasped the fabric at the warlock’s chest. Why would he not tell Julian about Ava? Why should dread seize him because he spoke of her?
Menelaus nodded.
Theo cursed. ‘By Jörð, I won’t let you endanger anyone I love again because of your stupidity!’ The blade glinted as it curved through space, and Menelaus struggled, his feet still knotted to the earth.
So he loves her, he thought, and he’s seen us together. Time slowed down. He fell back onto the grass, wrenching his legs from the soil, watching helplessly as the sword flashed fire mere inches from his throat. He opened his mouth, expecting to scream perhaps, but not to beg – never to beg – he didn’t deserve mercy. But it wasn’t his cry that rent the air.
‘Stop!’ Theo spun round to block the woman rushing toward them. ‘Let him go!’ Her hair fanned out in radiant contrast to the gloomy sky. Menelaus couldn’t face her again. The binds slackened around his ankles while Theo was distracted, and so he took his chance, springing out into a run.
Lorenzo flexed the bowstring and let his arrow soar.
Theo wasn’t looking. Only Ava was, her sight fixed on the future as always, and she evaded Theo, diving across the arrow’s path. The bow clattered to the ground as Lorenzo leapt out of the tree and ran to the girl crumpled on the uneven grass.
49
Severing Strings
‘Ava!’
I acted too late. Her arrival fried my brains as surely as the first time I’d seen her in my adult life, singing on stage. I was too slow to stop it, to stop her springing from my side as Menelaus ran, lithe and supple as a gymnast, swerving around fallen branches and snagging thorns, and the jagged teeth of ancient headstones.
The arrow mimicked the familiar pitch of Uncle Nikolaj’s tuneful whistle, the sound blurring as it passed. ‘No!’
I’d failed her. She crashed into a tree trunk, clutching her breast. I’d failed her.
But Penny didn’t.
Omnipresent and unseen, she assembled from the shadows like dark matter submitting to the light. Flinging out her arm, Penny derailed the arrow with her own magical dart, one that could disintegrate any human arrow – but not a Sarrow’s.
But it was enough. Thank Jörð, it was enough to divert it from Ava’s heart, enough to stop it stealing her life, if not a lump of breast tissue. Penny grinned, her big teeth matching a big ego, an ego that knew it had me. She’d fulfilled her end of our pact – to protect Ava – and now my allegiance was sealed. An invisible hand yanked at my hair, and I shuddered, knowing the Black Widow was busy spinning a new destiny for me.
‘Ava!’ I shouted again, falling to my knees and scooping her into my arms as Lorenzo arrived at my side, huffing and puffing from shock rather than breathlessness. He offered his blood. I’d had enough of healing people for a lifetime, so I let him spread the droplets on her parted lips, and her eyelashes fluttered like hummingbird wings, a hand raised to her mouth as she regained consciousness, and I wiped my own tears from her cheeks.
I tucked Ava under my arm, as one by one the coven assembled in the sprawling graveyard. ‘We kept our side of the bargain,’ said Penny, and she had proven it right in front of me. She had proven her magic as useful as mine. But more importantly, she’d proven her word, once given, remained as strong as iron.
‘Are you sure you want me?’ I asked. ‘The Praetoriani are dangerous. And they want me. They want things from me they can’t have. I’m on trial in two weeks. If it goes pear-shaped, we’ll all face the firing squad.’
Penny waved my warning aside. ‘We’ll be a ring of fire around you. We’ll eviscerate your enemies. Join your blood to Diana’s servants – to our blood – and we will assure your vengeance. No slave of the Imperi Ducis will dare threaten you,’ she hissed.
Ava shrank under my arm as Penny stepped closer to me, but I pulled her nearer, claiming her from the world as I wished to claim so many things. ‘I don’t think this is a good idea, Theo,’ Ava said.
I turned her round to face me. ‘Despite you sacrificing yourself to save Menelaus—’
‘To save you, Theo, from yourself—’
‘I do trust you, as you wanted. Now it’s your turn to trust me.’
‘There’s no future to be found in the past. You won’t have one if you stay on this path. I know it.’
‘I found you, Ava. You’re my future. And so is this coven. I know that.’
Freedom from my father, protection from the nameless hunters who sought the amulet, and therefore power over the Gatekeeper’s life, over all life, was within my reach. Leading this coven, I could be friends with vampires and be Ava’s man. Why not? I would play both sides, Pneuma and varmint, and ensure a future for us all. We creatures of night and secrets would explode into life, rising like the undead from the graves beneath our feet, impervious to the ill-will of the weaker, ready to re-spin the world�
��s entangled fate.
Ava slipped to the side as I reached out for Penny’s hand. ‘Then brothers and sisters, I pledge my blood and fidelity to you, as I promised.’
The Gatekeeper drifted high above, dislodged by the elation pulsing through my veins. The portion of my soul belonging to the Lífkelda recorded the moment that a deadly ouroboros, made from fourteen witches and warlocks clasping hands, trapped Ava and Lorenzo inside its flaming tail, burning us all in a belly of power. It was a perfect metaphor for the creature living inside me. Together, our coven became the Jormungand Serpent, ready to swallow the world whole. The Gatekeeper would save the beast from consuming itself, or allow it to burn the world to its molten core. It was my choice. My choice in the end.
What was epic responsibility transmuted in the fire, and a weight lifted clear. A Gatekeeper set the rules for life itself, a Gatekeeper was the foundation for the game. That made me the game-master; I alone could determine the outcome, could cause Ragnarök, or prevent it. If I could do that…
Neither my family nor the Praetoriani could stop me from doing anything, from loving anybody, from setting the world to rights. Leading the coven was the start, an alliance to line up the soldiers, in preparation for the war that was coming.
My kite strings were well and truly cut.
END OF PART FIVE
EXCERPT
Edict issued by Akhen, Imperi Ducis of the Praefecti, to initiated officials:
THE MAGNIFICENT ATEN
ATEN THE VENGEFUL
ATEN THE DESTROYER
All is permissible in His name.
Incinerate the scourge and nourish Yggdrasil with Pneuma blood. That is our sacred duty. Pledge your loyalty or we will build on your bones.
The time has come at last.
Yggdrasil will burn.
Forged in Blood and Lightning: A New Adult Urban Fantasy Novel (Descendants of Thor Trilogy: Book One) Page 32
