by Kim Loraine
“I’m Nephilim.”
I can’t fight my gasp. A Nephilim. A fucking child of a fallen angel and human. “What? I didn’t think there were any of you left.”
“There are more of us than you know. A small army really. We’re fighting to redeem the sins of our fathers.”
“And you’re somehow involved in all” —I gesture around vaguely—“all this?”
“I was told to keep an eye on you. To help you should you require aid.”
“And I guess you did a good job of it.” He smiles at my compliment and the tiniest twinge of attraction takes hold in my belly.
“I’m sorry to drag you from…whatever it is you’re doing with Lancelot, but we have to get out of here.”
I nod and renewed fear grips me. “Right. I’ll be back with him.”
Brooks grabs my hand and runs his thumb over my knuckles. “Be quick, and be careful.”
I feel his eyes on me the whole time I’m walking inside. I wish I had my magic more than I’ve ever wished for it in this moment. I could throw up a protection spell, keep our presences cloaked, give us time to get away with everything we need. My blood hums in my veins, laced with adrenaline all the way up in the lift. The key shakes as I slide it into the lock and Lancelot is there, opening the door, his eyes worried.
“Gwen, what is it? You came without me. I was about to leave to see you home safely.”
“We have to go. Right now. Shove everything into my bag as quick as you can. It’s not safe here.”
To his credit, Lance doesn’t argue. He runs. The man scoops my clothes from the drawers and dumps them into my large bag, then collects his own.
“Do you have Excalibur?” I ask, wishing I could sense its magic.
“Always.”
He hitches the strap of the bag on one shoulder and places his palm on my lower back. “Now, where are we going?”
“I’m not sure.”
A sense of dread settles over me, sulphur rising from the elevator shaft. We’re not safe. Not in the least. “The stairs,” I whisper. “We have to take the stairs as fast as we can.”
Lance nods and removes his hand from my back. He’s ready to use the sword if he needs to. Moving as quietly as possible, we rush for the stairwell and make our way down. The sulphur scent gets stronger as we get closer to the lobby. “He’s right outside the door,” I say, heart in my throat.
“There’s more than one. Can’t you feel them?”
Excalibur appears in his grasp, the ruby hilt catching the light and accenting the glow of the blade. I press my palm to his chest. “No. You can’t. There are people out there.” The doorman, a drunken couple coming home from a night out, so many innocents. “If they see, the demons will kill them.”
“Not if I’m fast enough,” he says, the fight radiating from him.
“No. Not this time. Life is different in this time, Lance. We can’t charge in, swords drawn. It’s our responsibility to keep the human world ignorant of the rest of it.”
I watch from the small window as Kit, a woman and man I hadn’t seen at the pub, as well as a small child all get into the lift together. All four of them are demons. Disgusting tricksters.
“Now,” I hiss, my heart jumping as I pull open the door and run for the exit. Lance is by my side, his hand on my elbow as we burst out into the night. “No! Bloody hell, where’s he gone?”
My heart sinks at the sight of an empty street. Brooks has deserted us with four demons on our tails.
“Where’s who gone?” Lance asks, his anger palpable. “Come on, let’s take the motorcycle. It’s right there.” He gestures to the bike Grant delivered a few days earlier.
But then a red car I recognize zooms around the corner and Brooks pulls up, the passenger window not even fully lowered as he yells, “Get in, you lot!”
Lance balks but follows my lead as I dive into the back seat. Brooks takes off, tires squealing. “Where are we headed? Who is this man?” Then Lance stares at me, hard. “Wait, this is the blasted man from the pub. The one who did nothing but eye you all damned night. Why are we in his automobile?”
Oh, bloody hell, I hadn’t even thought of that. “Lance, he’s one of us. He knows everything.”
Lance’s hand grips my knee. “What do you mean?”
“She means, I know who you are and I’m trying to help.” Brooks’ voice holds a tinge of frustration, but he keeps his foot on the gas and takes us swiftly toward the limits of the city.
“He can’t possibly understand the gravity of our task. How can you trust such a man?” Lance’s words hold much more than a simple question. He’s…jealous.
“He is the son of an angel, Lancelot. He’s fighting for our cause. He saved me from…” my voice goes tight at the memory of Kit.
Lance pulls me to him. “It’s all right, my queen. The demons are gone. We’re away.” There’s warmth in his voice as well as possession. “I won’t let any harm come to you.”
“Neither will I,” Brooks says, his tone serious.
Lancelot’s hold tightens and all conversation stops as we make our journey to God knows where. I can’t stop my gaze from flicking up to the rearview mirror where I see Brooks’ eyes focused on me.
My head goes fuzzy, the world around me drifting out of focus. And then I’m standing in front of my sisters, both of them smiling at me with their babies in their arms. The world safe, all of us alive. A warm palm fits itself to mine and I feel the cool metal band of a ring against my finger. Turning my head, I look at the man next to me and see Brooks, smiling, love shining in his eyes. And then the vision fades and it’s Lance holding me and the world is still ending and no one is safe.
Sliding out of Lance’s arms, I lean against the opposite window. Not again. I will not find myself caught between two men.
Lancelot
Brooks. I think I hate the man. But he saved my Guinevere’s life when I was not present to do so. How can I hate him? If it weren’t for the way his eyes linger on her, the man might be someone I could call a friend. We stopped after two hours spent on the road. The sprawling home he brought us to is too large for my liking. Gwen shouldn’t be far from my side, but with so much space, there are too many rooms to separate us. Already two nights have passed and we’ve barely spoken.
“Gwen?” I call, needing to be near her. I stride through the drawing room and into the hall. She’s nowhere to be found. “Guinevere.”
Soft giggles filter through the doorway at the end of the hall and my chest turns to stone. I push open the door to find her there, playing a game of cards with him. Brooks laughs and smiles, leaning close and murmuring something that makes her blush. White hot rage boils in my chest. She is mine. She has to be. After everything we went through, everything we felt for each other, everything I still feel.
“Having fun?” I attempt an unaffected timbre, but even I know I’ve failed. Gwen flinches, her eyes not meeting mine.
“We’re playing Hearts. Would you like Brooks to teach you?”
Would I like him to teach me? No. I certainly would not. “I think…no. We have been here two days and I can’t continue to stand by while the world around us grows closer to its end.”
Gwen stands and crosses the room, the placating expression on her face making my cheeks grow hot. She looks at me the way a woman would see a petulant child.
“Lance, stop. Brooks has put me in contact with a coven. He thinks we can find a way to tap into my magic, to find the moonstone and release my power.”
Brooks. Of course he does. “Then why am I even here? Brooks seems to be able to solve all our problems.”
“You’re here because Gabriel—”
And there it is, the truth. “Gabriel saddled you with me. He linked our lives because I have to be with you.”
Brooks stands and crosses his arms over his chest, a smirk turning up his lips. I reach for Excalibur, tempted to drive the hilt against his nose so he won’t be so pretty any longer. “I’ll, um…I’ll leave you
two to it, then. I’ve got some calls to make anyway.” He leaves the room and I stare at Gwen, willing her to tell me something I don’t already know.
“Lance, it’s not just—”
“No, Gwen, it is. Tell me the truth. If we weren’t bound to one another, would you still be with me?”
“I’m not with you.”
There it is. Four words that rip my heart straight from my chest. I wasn’t prepared for them. I didn’t realize how far I’d fallen since we were reunited.
With a nod, I turn and leave her, my desperate situation bringing back memories of the pain of losing her long ago.
The hall is quiet because my Gwen hasn’t followed me. Her heart isn’t mine. It doesn’t belong to me and never has. The ache in my chest becomes so strong I fear it might explode. I need fresh air, open space, I need a damn horse to ride and rid me of all the trappings of this modern world.
I shove open the massive front door and step into the afternoon light. Instantly, I know I’ve made a mistake. My limbs are weighted down as though cast in stone.
“Look what we have here. A handsome knight.” A tall woman with pitch black hair and ebony skin stands at the edge of the path that leads to the house. She has one hand raised, scarlet painted nails filed to sharp points.
“Release me,” I say through clenched teeth.
“Doubtful. I’m not likely to let you near me with that…sword you’re packing.”
She shouldn’t be able to see Excalibur with Gabriel’s enchantment. “Who are you?” I need to get free, get to Gwen. “You don’t feel like a demon. But you don’t feel entirely pure either.”
Two more women appear out of thin air and I realize who they are. The coven Brooks called. “Heather, let him go.” The woman to her left chastises the witch who has me captive and smiles, her red hair swirling in the wind. “It’s Lancelot. You can’t possibly have forgotten. He’s got Excalibur for pity’s sake.”
Heather sighs and twists her hand, the pressure on my limbs releasing with the gesture. I take a deep breath and put my hand on the hilt of my sword.
“Whoa, there, handsome. You need to get to know me before you show me your sword.” Heather takes a defensive posture but doesn’t enchant me again.
“Relax, Lancelot. We’re here to help.”
Chapter Fourteen
Brooks
The more I’m around Gwen, the deeper my suspicion that we’re fated grows. Every smile, glimmer of amusement, soft word from her makes me crave her more. And now, as I watch her sit in the center of a circle surrounded by Heather, Rachel, and Anya, I wonder at what she would look like at full power.
“Calm your mind, Gwen,” Anya says. “You’re too tense. There’s something blocking your power. Your inherent gift shouldn’t be tied to your magic.”
Gwen takes a long breath and forces herself to relax her brow. “I…I have had a few visions over the last week.”
“Good. That’s great. Okay, what were you doing when that happened?”
Her cheeks go pink. “One was more a flashback to my past. I cut myself on Excalibur.” My heart lurches at the knowledge of her being hurt. Why wasn’t Lancelot there, with the sword stowed safely?
“And the others?” Heather asks.
“I was riding in the car to come here. And then I had one after Lance and I…got close.”
Jealousy boils near the surface. Close? How close?
“Oh, you two are an item, then?” Rachel cocks an eyebrow.
“No. No. It was a mistake.”
The brunette witch shakes her head and glances at Heather and Anya. “Love is never a mistake.”
“I don’t love him. We’re not…it can’t be like that.”
“Which is it? You’re not or it can’t be?”
Gwen’s expression is distraught and I want nothing more than for this conversation to be over. “Can’t you see you’re upsetting her?” I bark.
Heather takes a hand of each of the women in her coven and Anya joins hands with Rachel. “You’re right. So, Gwen, first we need to unlock your visions. Then we can trace your magic from there.”
Gwen nods and closes her eyes. “Just tell me what to do.”
“Place one hand over your third eye, the other over your heart.”
She follows the instructions and takes a deep breath. “Okay.”
“Now, you let us do the rest.” Heather looks from woman to woman and nods. The three of them raise their faces to the ceiling and begin softly chanting, an incantation I can barely make out. Soft blue light emanates from each of them, swirling around until it raises over all of them and collects into a brightly shining ball of magic. Their words grow louder until, as one, they stop.
The sphere of light hangs over Gwen and then Heather whispers a single word and it bursts. The magic falls onto Gwen, surrounding her and disappearing into her being.
“Fuck,” I whisper. The four of them get to their feet, all smiles, and I can’t help but go to Gwen. “Are you all right?”
I take her hands in mine and stare into those beautiful eyes of hers. “Maybe? I don’t know. I feel fine. Normal.”
“Normal is good.”
She smiles and doesn’t take her hands from mine, but the knowledge that she and Lance were…close, still burns in my mind. Can I compete with Lancelot? He’s her knight. All the stories say so. If anyone is fated, wouldn’t it be them?
My heart picks up speed when she releases my hands and leans into me, wrapping her arms around me. “Thank you for bringing them here,” she murmurs. “Thank you so much.”
I can’t help it. I trail my fingers through her hair. “Gwen,” I start, wishing the coven would leave us. “I know this isn’t the right time, but I have to say something.”
She pushes away and stares at me, her gaze searching. “What?”
“I feel this…pull. There’s something here. Something fated.”
Her eyes go wide and she backs away. “No. Not now. We can’t.”
Shit. I knew this wasn’t the right thing to do, but if Lancelot has thrown his hat in the ring, I’ll be damned if I’m not going to add mine. I pull her close again and drop my lips to hers. Soft and pliant, her mouth is exactly as perfect as I imagined. Then I back away, releasing her and giving her space.
Her mouth is swollen from my kiss and my heart is racing. She looks like she’s about to say something, but I can’t let her. “Listen to me. I’m not saying now. I’m saying that when this is all over, you and I will be having a conversation about us.”
She takes her lower lip between her teeth and a frown furrows her brow. “I don’t know. It’s not…I’m not sure.”
“You don’t have to be sure now. But I need you to know I’m in this. Just like him.”
Shaking her head, she stands in the doorway. “There is no this. There’s no me and Lancelot, just like there’s no me and you. Right now, there’s a looming apocalypse. That’s it.”
“We’re going to win. You’ll see.”
She presses her fingertips to her lips and nods once before heading down the hall. From the corner of my eye, I see a shadow in the doorway that leads to the library. Lancelot stands there, eyes blazing, hands curled into tight fists.
Gwen might think there’s nothing between any of us, but she couldn’t be more wrong.
Chapter Fifteen
Gwen
“Where the bloody hell are you?” Helena isn’t amused by my vanishing act. Her brow is furrowed, an unsightly wrinkle forming in the middle of her forehead. I should’ve declined the video call, but I miss my sisters and wanted to see them.
“I’m with Brooks. He took us to a safe place.”
“Brooks? Who the fuck is Brooks?”
I roll my shoulders and fight the memory of his lips on mine yesterday. My vision says we’re supposed to be together, but my body says it wants Lance. “He’s the owner of the pub.”
“No, he isn’t!” Izzy shouts from somewhere unseen. “Moira is the owner of that pub.”
“Not since she died,” I say.
“She died? Oh, no. That’s terrible.” Izzy’s voice is filled with emotion.
“Brooks is her son. He took over.” I know I’m leaving out a very important detail, but I have to tell them about the coven first. “Listen, that’s not what we need to be talking about. I’ve met a coven. They helped me try to unblock my visions.”
“A coven? Are you kidding me? What if they’re part of the whole mess? What if they’re the ones who took the moonstone to begin with?” Helena is incredulous.
“I’ve already had three visions since before I met them. I think it’s worth a shot.”
Helena’s eyes widen. “You have? What were they about?”
“Oh, nothing. Just the end of the world and some such nonsense.”
“Gwen,” she scolds. “It’s never nonsense.”
I fight the hurt in my chest when I think of the vast differences between my visions. “One was of Lancelot dying in my arms, the world ending around us, me telling him I loved him. The other was all of us happy, the world saved, me married…to Brooks.”
“Well…that’s different.”
“I know. I’ve never seen myself happy with any man. But the things I feel for Lance…anything with Brooks pales in comparison.”
She takes a bite of a biscuit and a sip of tea. “I’m going to say something you won’t like.”
“Go on.”
“Lance is your lost love. He ruined you, stole your heart, left you a disgraced adulteress.”
“Do you have a point?” I really don’t want to rehash all this.
“Don’t you think it stands to reason that you’d always have feelings for him? Intense ones.”
I nod. “Perhaps.”
“And don’t you think that it makes sense for you to be projecting all those feelings because you’re linked to each other? I mean, for fuck’s sake, Gwen, he was supposed to be your curse breaker. Lancelot isn’t evil. He was goodness personified. If anyone was going to break your curse, it should’ve been him. Instead, you loved each other but couldn’t ever say the words.”
