Sword of Elements Series Boxed Set 2: Bound In Blue, Caught In Crimson & To Make A Witch

by Heather Hamilton-Senter

  I looked at Arthur in surprise. “Where’s he going?”

  “I don’t trust the Egyptian and especially not the redcap. Though the rest of his kind may have been eliminated, there are those of us who still remember that blood-thirsty race. We’ll all sleep safer in our beds when the last one is finally gone.”

  “But he helped us! He helped me!”

  Arthur’s smile was indulgent, fatherly. “And you’re to be commended for your innocent trust, but you can’t see him as I do. As we all now just did.” I was too tired to protest again, so I just nodded, sick at my own betrayal of the man who’d saved me more than once.

  The redcap who loves me.

  Arthur gestured for the others to gather around him. “Thanks to Rhiannon, the Grail’s fire has been safely contained. We’ll return to Taliesin’s home and partake of whatever rest or sustenance we can till an hour after dawn. Rhi, and whomever she chooses to accompany her, will come with me to New York where we will use the Grail to save Morgan le Fay. Once she is again at full strength, we will use the earth talismans to cut down Merlin once and for all. Together.” When Arthur smiled, the skin around his eyes crinkled and I felt my heart leap with the desire to follow him. Command was as natural and effortless to Arthur as breathing.

  One look at Taliesin’s worried face brought me back down to earth. Morgan had tried to kill herself out of remorse over what she did to her own son—and perhaps out of a desire to escape the bonds holding her to Arthur. She loved the king, but she loved the bard too. And from what little I knew of my aunt, I suspected she loved her freedom even more. She might not welcome being brought back to a life of loving bondage.

  Arthur directed the ginger-haired woman to carry the Grail and I didn’t protest. The Grail was mine no matter where it was, but I was relieved to be separated from it. I was so empty now, and I could feel it in the back of my mind, beating at me to let it in.

  The back of my mind.

  I was surprised to realize I wasn’t in any pain. An absence of magic had brought relief. Maybe it could reverse what had been happening to me. Even a month ago, I wouldn’t have accepted the loss of magic as the price for my health. I’d come to Las Vegas naively believing I was willing to die for magic.

  But that was before I knew just how much suffering I would have to go through first.

  We began to move out. Stepping over a chalk outline, I hoped that Dindrane was telling the truth and that the carnage had only been an illusion. As we followed Goodfellow’s lead towards the Path outside Caesars Palace, Taliesin drew up beside me. “I am afraid that we are set now on a course from which there will be no easy return. You know that Arthur can only see the world in terms of black and white. The woman he loves is dying; his quest then must be to save her.” His voice was barely a whisper; he didn’t want us to be overheard.

  “Don’t you want that too?”

  “It may not be what Morgana wants.” His words echoed my thoughts. “What Arthur does not account for is the Grail itself.”

  “It’s out of balance,” I admitted.

  “Yes. Consider Excalibur—the sword can take life, but it also defends it. If Arthur drains the last bit of life-giving magic from the Grail, then it becomes only Death. Who can say what that will do to him? Or to you.”

  I watched Arthur as he strode ahead of us, so sure in his course, so convinced of the absolute rightness of his leadership. “What should I do?”

  The bard laughed—it was an unfamiliar, unguarded sound. “The Grail is yours. Even I can feel it. I cannot say what you are meant to do with it.” He quickened his pace and walked ahead with no other answer.

  Suppressing a flash of irritation, I was a few steps past him before I processed that Daley had stopped walking and was staring at something on the sidewalk. I went back to him, hesitating at the strange look on his face. Tynan looked over his shoulders at us with concern, but I nodded that I would take care of it. He turned away and continued on, leaning down to murmur something to Miko and Titania.

  Impatient to get back and put some proper clothes on—and shoes—I put my hand on Daley’s arm to get his attention. “Daley?” When he didn’t respond, I gave him a little shake. “We need to go now. What are you doing?”

  “They forget,” he murmured. “Even Dad.” I was surprised to hear him call Taliesin Dad in public. “But then, he wasn’t here. No one was. We died alone.”

  If the Grail had left any heat in me, it was swept away now with white horror at his use of the word we. I guessed where we were. Following his gaze, I almost expected to see the stain of blood on the sidewalk beneath our feet.

  I tried to make my voice as gentle as possible. “You didn’t die here. Melusine did. You did everything you could. The ghost-dragon wasn’t really her. There was nothing anyone could have done to save her, not then, and not now.”

  He didn’t seem to hear me as he stared at the spot where Melusine was shot by her ex-lover. “This is where I held her while her life spilled out on the ground. This is where she choked on her own blood and her eyes begged me to save her. This is where I lost everything.”

  Shaking my hand off, Daley stumbled away.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  POPPY

  The Path to New York City was a sleeper train straight out of the Orient Express. Longer distances required Paths to be shaped to look more like conveyances the mind was used to. Goodfellow said it was to avoid becoming what he termed brain-lost, though why he thought something from an Agatha Christie novel would be more familiar to us, I had no idea. Having seen the grey, unnatural oppression that was a Path’s true nature, I understood the need for an illusion though. At least the train was comfy. I’d finally learned that the ginger-haired woman’s name was Isabelle. As we were waiting to enter the Path, she’d informed me that they’d come to Las Vegas on creatures that looked almost like horses because Arthur still wasn’t completely at ease travelling on anything that didn’t move on four legs.

  Isabelle had also filled me in that Paths where the entrances and exits were actually fairly close geographically—like the one leading from Taliesin’s compound to the Las Vegas strip—were experienced so quickly that the mind didn’t have a chance to register anything. The trip from the Bellagio to the domain of the Fisher King had also passed in moments, proof perhaps that our world and Merlin’s existed parallel to one another, almost touching. It was a troubling thought.

  Though Goodfellow’s penchant for steampunk airships and elaborate antique trains was endearing, his defection from our quest was less so. Under the baleful gaze of Titania, he’d declined to come, instead offering a local Path Guide to transport us. When I wondered out loud why we’d bothered waiting for Goodfellow before when there were other Guides in Vegas, the fairy queen grudgingly admitted that many Paths were beyond ordinary Guides, but none were beyond Puck.

  Taliesin and Goodfellow had escorted us to the mouth of the Path on the property of the compound. Once we followed our Guide onto the Path, Las Vegas disappeared and we were standing in in the corridor of the train with compartments on either side. The Guide had indicated that we could take our pick and the group had split up. Resting on a narrow, built-in bed with a feather pillow under my head, I was grateful for the privacy. Even though it would only take a little more than an hour to reach New York, it had given me time to think. I’d emptied myself of the magic I’d collected. I was like an addict who was finally clean. I had to stay clean. I had to stop stealing magic.

  The decision was made. I would help save Morgan, and then somehow find a way to transfer ownership of Excalibur and the Grail to Arthur. I felt a flash of what might be protest from the sword, but forced myself to ignore it. As far as I was concerned, Arthur and Taliesin could fight Merlin, and after that, fight one another. I would go home and try to remember what a life ignorant of magic was like; a life I had to admit I’d never really known given that Viviane’s spell had hidden me from full interaction with humanity, but still . . .

  Hol
ding on to the illusion of free will, I denied the sure knowledge that Merlin would never let me make that decision. Closing my eyes, I pretended I didn’t feel the determined pull on my mind from Excalibur resting unseen on my hip, or from the Grail in Isabelle’s rough canvas knapsack.

  I refuse to become a magic junkie jonesing for my next fix.

  A crackling sound echoed through the train. “We are now approaching Track 61. Please be ready to disembark in five minutes,” a voice said over an anachronistic sound system, but I supposed that since it was all an illusion anyway, anachronisms were allowed.

  Sitting up with a sigh, I slipped off the bed and left my compartment. As I walked down the corridor towards the dining car, there was no sensation of movement and no scenery except grey fog outside the windows.

  The others were already waiting inside. Daley sat in a booth by himself staring out the window at the blank nothingness. Isabelle and Titania were playing a game with what looked like Tarot cards. Miko was watching the other fairy with an avid look on her face. To my eyes, she seemed to be sitting just a bit too close, but if she was annoying Titania, the woman didn’t show it.

  Arthur and Tynan were sitting together conversing quietly and I was struck by how similar they looked; there was no doubting they were father and son. I should have been happy for Tynan that they were reconciling, but I couldn’t forget Taliesin’s stricken expression, quickly hid, when both Ty and Miko told him they were going to stay with Arthur. The Tynan who’d always called Taliesin Dad was gone. I’d known that for a while, but I could feel that Taliesin hadn’t.

  I slid into the seat across from Peter. “Is there any actual food in this place?”

  “I wish. I’m starving.”

  “I thought you grabbed something before we left.”

  When he shrugged, I could see the heavy muscles moving under his shirt. “I’m still hungry. Did you know I’ve grown an inch since we got to Vegas?”

  “In one month? I know guys sometimes get their growth spurt late, but I would have thought you were tall enough already.”

  He grinned. “I’ll be taller than Ty soon if I keep it up.”

  I forced myself to smile. Peter kept changing. What would he be like once he finally stopped? I jerked my chin towards the three women sitting at the other table. “What do you think about Miko staying with Arthur?” I instantly regretted the question when I saw the flash of hurt cross his face.

  “I don’t know. She seems happier. Taliesin hasn’t been able to help her figure things out, so maybe Arthur and his people can. Miko told me that since her mother abandoned her, she’s never really been around fairies much. Shakespeare said Titania was the Queen of the Fairies. If anyone can understand what’s going on with Miko, it’s probably her.”

  “Probably. But what about you? Are you just going to let her go?”

  He stared at the tabletop, running his thumbnail up and down the groove between his bottom teeth; a sure sign that he was thinking deeply. Then he sighed and put his hands flat on the table. They clenched once, almost spasmodically, and I felt a quick surge of anger almost as quickly suppressed. “I want to talk things through with her, but she keeps avoiding me. I need to know . . .” His fair skin flushed.

  “What?”

  “I need to know if she wants me to stay with her. I need to know if she wants me to join Arthur too.”

  I don’t know what I might have said to Peter if the Path Guide hadn’t appeared in the doorway just then. I reflexively pulled on the bond between us, resentfully drawing him closer. When his eyes widened slightly, I knew he could feel what I was doing.

  Could I make him stay with me? Even if he doesn’t want to? Is the magic binding a Protector to his Charge that powerful? Maybe it’s the real reason we’re best friends. Maybe Viviane did this to us.

  Peter had already turned his attention to the Guide who was about as unforgettable a young man as possible until he spoke. As he gestured to the exit doors, he declared in the thickest southern accent I’d ever heard outside of a fried chicken commercial, “We’re arrivin’ on Track 61. If y’all just take the doors to the right, we’ll be stoppin’ at the Waldorf Astoria station, in the great city of New York.”

  The tension in Peter suddenly dissolved and he tugged me out of the booth. “C’mon, this is going to be cool.” As he pulled me over to the exit, the others gathered behind us. Since there was no sensation of movement, there was no sensation of stopping either. The Guide gestured towards the doors and Peter slid them open with his hands. I was grateful to see darkness instead of grey mist beyond, but I still couldn’t see where we were supposed to go.

  “Well I’ll be hanged!” The Guide pushed past us and jumped into the darkness. There was a sound of boots landing on concrete then the flicker of light from a cell phone “They were s’posed to have the lights on. Just hold your tail feathers while I call up top.” I caught muttered exclamations of “John Brown’it” and “that dawg just won’t hunt!”

  “All right,” he called back to us finally. “Just give it about ten seconds.” In less than that, the lights came on. It wasn’t bright, exactly, but we could see.

  “It’s really Track 61! I can’t believe it!” Peter’s excitement seemed out of proportion to the crumbling rails and platforms around us.

  Miko’s jump onto the platform was so light, it seemed that she was flying even without extending her wings. “What’s Track 61?”

  Peter’s answering smile was out of proportion to the mild interest on the girl’s face and my heart broke for him. I made sure he couldn’t feel it through our bond though; I wouldn’t ruin this for him.

  Conscious he had an audience, my best friend cleared his throat and projected. “Track 61 is actually a decommissioned station of the New York subway system. This track was specially built in the Thirties to bring President Roosevelt in and out of New York secretly so people couldn’t see he was in a wheelchair, but there are rumors that it’s still kept open for visiting presidents to get out of town fast if there’s ever a disaster.”

  The Guide grinned. “Wives’ tales! This place is kept open ‘cuz it’s a Path entrance, though Roosevelt wasn’t a half bad wizard in his own right. That’s the man’s own personal subway car right over there.” He pointed at a rusting hulk covered in peeling blue and green paint sitting just off the track. Peter was in geek heaven.

  Arthur was the last to step off. The moment both his feet were on the ground, the train dissolved into mist. He looked at the Guide with concern. “How will you find your way home, young man?”

  The Guide shrugged. “There’re other Paths. Lord Forest ordered this one closed temporarily to prevent anyone from following you.” Whistling, he began to walk away alongside the track. Before he disappeared into the darkness, he called back, "If you find your way onto Track 61 again, my lord, the concierge know where to find me! I’ll cool my heels in town a while!”

  Steel doors in the concrete wall swung open and a trim man dressed in a pinstripe suit with a gold crest on each lapel stepped out. “Greetings to you all, I’m the Special Concierge for the Waldorf Astoria and I’m here to assist you with anything you need while you’re in the city. Let me welcome you to New York and escort you to the main level.” He stepped aside for us to enter what looked like an ancient freight elevator and then closed the steel doors behind us. When he pushed a button, the elevator door slid into place and we began to ascend. The man kept glancing at Arthur, awe clear on his face. After a short trip, the door opened to reveal a nondescript hallway. As we followed the concierge down the hall, the man finally got up the nerve to speak. “I must say, my lord, it’s truly an honor to meet you. I would never have believed the day of your awakening would occur during my lifetime. I can’t wait to tell my children that you arrived in New York on my watch.”

  Arthur inclined his head slightly, the liege lord acknowledging his rightful tribute. “Have you held your post here for long?”

  “I’ve been on the job for about tw
enty years, my lord. I’m only human, but my family has Protector blood in it and we’re proud to serve. We have the honor of tending to any special guests who are in the city. Will you be staying with us tonight, my lord?”

  “I don’t believe so. My aim is to return home with my wife as soon as possible.”

  Though the man’s face fell, he didn’t let his disappointment reach his voice. “Well, if there’s anything I can do to make your visit to our city more comfortable, just contact me here. I’d be happy to help with anything you need.”

  Tynan’s face was curious. “Do all the hotels in New York cater to supernatural guests?” I wondered how much he remembered from his time living on the streets.

  “No, sir, only the best hotels,” the concierge sniffed.

  We turned a corner into a wider hallway with chandeliers and richly patterned carpeting which then opened up into the hustle and bustle of the check in area. The ceiling soared above us, but the lighting was warm and rich. As we passed a fantastically decorated, freestanding clock, I noticed it was topped by a gold replica of the Statue of Liberty. Red and gold decorated Christmas trees flanked a sweeping set of stairs and then we were at street level and out the revolving doors. Where the Bellagio had been fanciful in its decor, the Waldorf Astoria was class and old money.

  The concierge indicated the line of yellow taxis lined up in front of the hotel along Park Avenue. “Would you like me to arrange transportation for you, my lord?”

  Arthur shook his head. “No, thank you. I remember the way and our destination isn’t far. After sitting so long, I’m looking forward to the walk.”

  When the man proffered his card, Arthur just stared at him, not understanding. Isabelle took it instead and put it in the pocket of her jeans.