by Candace Sams
For a moment, he continued staring. Then he smiled broadly and chuckled. “Girl…you don’t want to go there.”
“Can’t help it,” she said as she lowered her head. While she maintained silence, nothing kept her shoulders and body from shaking with glee.
He moved forward, until he was no more than a mere breath away. “Frankie?”
“Yeah?” she responded as she looked up at him.
He suddenly and gently pulled her forward, looped one hand around the back of her neck, and kissed her. Hard. Deep. Luxuriously.
When he broke the contact, she wasn’t laughing anymore. She dropped her sword at the same time as he dropped his.
In a second, they were in each other’s arms, continuing a wildly abandoned, mouth-to-mouth onslaught that shook her to her core.
His lips moved to her left cheek. “You turn my blood to lava,” he whispered. “I’ve never met a woman like you.”
“Are you sure you want to stay out here, in the cold? I could so make it worth your while to come inside the castle,” she slowly responded. “There’s a huge, soft bed in my room —”
“You’ve talked me into it, lass.”
She kissed the part of his neck, just below his left jaw. He growled in response, picked up both their swords summarily, then handed hers back to her.
For the longest minute, they just stared. Frankie saw things in his eyes she’d never seen before. Beneath the starlight, his intent was clear. No shadow or darkness could hide the passion in his gaze.
As suddenly as glass shatters, the moment was broken when a sensation filtered through the air. It affected them both to the point that they immediately went on guard, raising their swords, side by side.
“Rogues!” he whispered, as he simultaneously motioned for her to move.
No experienced ally would ever broach two guarding immortals; not without calling out as a way of announcing his or her sociable intent.
As she moved behind a tall rock, Mac moved to another one on her right. Separated as they were now, the bodies moving toward them had no clear target. The enemy was stealthily stalking straight between them, like a cavalry into a broadside attack.
There simply was no mistaking how a rogue moved. They were as canny as cats, quiet as stalking wolves. Like predators, they moved in packs and never strayed too far apart. Cowardly attacks were their trademark.
Through the darkness, she felt their presence the way one sees a shadow on a moonlit night. For an immortal, that eerie sensation was magnified tenfold. They were in danger, from no less than five rogues.
How they’d gotten on the land without Merlin knowing, she hadn’t a clue. They couldn’t breach the castle, so they were obviously going after the only exposed, law-abiding immortals they could find.
As she waited behind her rock, she saw Mac nod toward her. The rogues were closer to him. He held up his left hand, with five fingers extended upward. This told her that she had, indeed, sensed the right number of enemies.
“On my signal,” he silently mouthed.
With preternatural sight that all immortals used, she saw his command and nodded. The rogues knew where they were, though not how they would respond. Obviously, the scumbags liked the odds and weren’t backing off.
Feeling every instinct kick in, she gripped her sword harder and lowered her stance. There was no sense offering her head up. By slightly crouching when she lunged for attack, her head wouldn’t exactly be where the rogues thought it would be.
“Go!” Mac shouted.
She burst from her hiding place, with all the speed she could muster.
The rogue nearest her was only ten feet away. Surprised by her lower stance, he stepped slightly back. She swung her blade from her lower right, and up to the left side of his neck. That man’s death was swift, clean and merciful. His head rolled into the darkness.
A screaming, enraged comrade swiftly took that dead rogue’s place.
The sound of connecting metal echoed off the rocks to her right. She had to quickly dispatch the rogue in front of her, to get to Mac. But this second rogue in her way proved to be much tougher. This second rogue fought with swift and dangerous swings that came one after another.
Her partner was surely taking on the other three foes. They’d want to take him out as fast as they could, idiotically perceiving Mac as the bigger threat.
That was a mistake that many rogues often made.
She might be slender. She might not be as tall as some other immortals, but her confidence in her training — training Mac had so recently polished — led her to shock her next foe with series of sweeping parries. Her movements quickly caused concern in her enemy’s eyes.
Now, she understood the essence of Mac’s instruction. Never let one’s expression telegraph one’s movements. Or one’s fear.
The battle took on deadly force as the rogues saw another of their ilk fall beneath Mac’s huge sword.
“To me!” Mac shouted.
Frankie ran past the man she’d been fighting, to stand on Mac’s right side.
From somewhere, farther down the hill, she sensed another immortal presence. This one was moving with speed, crying loudly as he approached. Whoever it was intended to make the rogues turn around and fight him; to get their attention off the two defenders.
“I think we’re relieved!” Mac shouted with enthusiasm.
“Who is that?” she yelled back, as she held off the rogue in front of her.
“Trey Seward…at your service!” a big man boldly announced as he approached from the rear of the remining rogues.
This new and unknown ally brandished a shiny sword. It flashed under the starlight, like a weapon held by some avenging angel.
Even as Frankie heard the man call out his name, the guy took off one of the rogue’s heads. She only knew he’d done it because that head rolled near her feet. That was the speed with which their backup ally moved.
The two rogues left alive saw they were now outnumbered. They ran between Mac and her, intent on making their way down the other side of the hill, as fast as they could.
They were sadly mistaken in their retreat. Instead of giving up, as they should have, Mac and the tall warrior calling himself Trey bolted after the fleeing pair.
Frankie never even got a look at their relief combatant’s face, since he blew by her faster than a foxhound chasing a rabbit.
She quickly turned to the darkness in front of her, as another immortal approached.
“It’s Merlin…stand down, Frankie!”
“Are there any more coming from the direction of the castle? I’m too far away and don’t sense anything,” she quickly explained.
“No. There are no others. Only the five! They were obviously headed this way, but the bloody fools ran across country by the time I sensed them, and before I could even get out of the castle.”
“By the time they got near enough for us to sense them, they were creeping around like vines,” she countered. “They weren’t running at all.”
“They slowed their pace considerably when they sensed the pair of you on this hill. I daresay, the cowards thought they could best you.”
“We could have held our own. Without help, by the way!”
“Quite true, Frankie. I knew that, but…as Trey had been chasing them down for quite some time…it seemed appropriate to let him in on a piece of the action.”
She moved closer to the wizard while glancing into the darkness, where Mac and their sudden backup had disappeared. “Should I follow?”
“No. It’s handled. You’ve done enough.”
“What the hell were they doing here? Even if this Trey guy chased them into the north, five lone rogues wouldn’t be stupid enough to attack an immortal stronghold. They shouldn’t have known that Garrett Bloodnight is away. There might have been fifty of the queen’s immortals staying at the castle. All of them ready to fight!”
“I daresay these five were looking to make a name for themselves among the rogue community.
But all of that, my dear, is a matter for another time.”
“Another time?”
“It seems the action, as it were, is over. There are no other rogues in these hills tonight.”
“Merlin, what’s going on —”
“I was deep in the middle of a scrying session when the phone rang, and Trey informed me they were coming. By then, I sensed them…as I said…but they were already on their way to you and Mac. My apologies for not being here sooner,” he reiterated. “Still, there were more than enough allied warriors on this hillside to take care of the garbage.”
With her mind reeling from the poorly made excuse, Frankie turned toward the darkness again. The soft stillness of the night was shattered. Merlin’s hands were deep in the middle of these sudden, dangerous circumstances. She knew it.
Several minutes went by as Frankie stood next to Merlin, waiting.
She shook her head in dismay. “They’re taking too long. I’m going after —”
“No need,” Merlin countered. “They’re coming back. I can sense them. Both Trey and Mac are fine, though it’s clear that I’ll be using a lot of magical energy tonight to destroy rogue remains.”
Relieved that Mac and his friend were returning, Frankie simply nodded. Merlin had the capability to shoot green, magical energy orbs from his hands, to dispense with enemy remains. She’d seen him do it during WWII. For now, his doing so was way down on her list of priorities. What bothered her was why this incident happened at all, and why Merlin was lying about the circumstances.
She stood in silence for another ten minutes, waiting for the two men to return.
Finally, two figures approached, speaking softly. She recognized Mac’s voice. The other man’s voice came to her on the breeze. Something about the sound of it was too familiar. She took several steps forward.
Mac arrived first. He pulled her into a firm hug before letting her go.
“Okay?” he asked. “No nicks or dents?”
“None,” she laughed as she briefly slid one hand up to his cheek. “Are you okay, big guy?”
“Never better. Though I’d hoped for a different night.”
The man she would have made love to but for the nasty rogue attack, quickly turned and motioned toward an approaching figure.
“We took out the last two rogues,” Mac advised. “Though I don’t know how he got here…and don’t care since he was just in time to help…I want you to meet a good friend. This is Trey Seward. Trey…this is Francesca Radcliffe. She goes by Frankie.”
She sensed the other man moving closer, but Frankie still couldn’t see his face because Mac’s big body blocked her line of vision. Again, she had the strangest sense of familiarity about this newcomer. Maybe she’d worked with the guy during the war years, and he now used a different, unfamiliar name. Maybe she’d met him during some other mission. For whatever reason, she knew him the way she knew the backs of her own hands.
When Mac stepped to one side, and Trey Seward’s face came into view, the newcomer stopped and stared at her. They were no more than ten yards apart now. The darkness hid nothing from their preternatural sight. There was no mistaking the over six feet of muscular warrior standing there in a long leather duster, so like her own. She knew who he was, even with his long brown hair blowing around his features, and three or four days’ worth of beard on his face. His gray eyes were a family trait, from their mother’s side.
“Scotty?” she whispered. She automatically opened her hand, her weapon clattered on the rocks at her feet.
“Sarah?” he returned as he, too, dropped his sword.
“My, my. Isn’t this a strange and unusual happenstance? What a blessing…family is reunited,” Merlin blithely muttered.
Chapter 8
Mac watched the initial greeting between Trey and Frankie. He saw the expressions on their faces, and instantly knew what had happened. He recalled Frankie having shared her brother’s name in her story of Galveston. The man he knew as Trey, was her brother — Scott. It took only a few seconds more before he turned on the one person who’d have hidden one sibling’s existence from another.
“Merlin…you son-of-a-bitch! What have you done?”
Merlin simply cleared his throat, and took a seat on a nearby stone.
The wizard’s silence forced Mac to turn around and watch the unplanned reunion playing in front of him.
The sheer shock on both Frankie’s and Trey’s faces was immeasurable. Faced with such drama, he was literally forced to back away and remain silent.
“Scotty?” Frankie repeated as she stumbled closer to her brother.
“I…I…thought you were d-dead,” Trey choked out. “I-I saw you.”
“What are you talking about…my God…you’re alive!”
The siblings lurched toward each other and embraced in a welcome for the ages. Mac had no words for the utter joy, bittersweet ache, and confounding sensations melding and blending through the landscape. He felt it all, as if it was happening to him. Even a very new immortal might have felt the impact, never mind someone centuries old.
For a long time, tears of joy mingled with devastating surprise. Both siblings turned with an accusatory look, right where it belonged.
The wizard sitting so silently next to him remained pensive. Mac reached out and shoved Merlin, when the older man didn’t look up and respond to Trey’s and Frankie’s stares.
“You knew my brother was alive!” Frankie loudly accused.
“Why, Merlin? Why would you keep this information to yourself?” Trey angrily asked.
“For the very same reason I didn’t tell Garrett Bloodnight that he is the descendant of Sir Galahad.”
Trey tilted his head. “What? But Galahad was the man who killed Mordred. If there’s anybody on Earth that Morgan LeFey would want to slaughter, it’ll be someone connected to Galahad.”
“You’ve lied to just about everybody, haven’t you,” Mac stated as he, too, glared at the wizard.
“Enough!” Merlin shouted as he stood to his full height, and used magic to enhance his voice. That action was meant to prioritize his position in the group. “Trey…Frankie…if Morgan LeFey knew either of you were alive, she’d have told her general. And he would have taken you both out. My scrying efforts revealed that both of you were to be here, at this time in history. As it is, Morgan has been trying to scry the future to gain any advantage she can. I’ve tried to keep you both alive by magical means. Keeping you separated made that easier, because you were not both in some dangerous situation, at the same exact time in history. If you’d known about each other, you’d have insisted on working with each other. This would have magnified the dangers to you both. If you’d been killed, you could not be here, now…precisely where you belong. That is the prophecy —”
“What?” all three comrades asked in unison.
Merlin sighed heavily and used his hands to gesture about finer points. “One way to keep you safe, was to keep you both separate. This made it much harder for Morgan’s general to kill you, in the event he’d learned…through Morgan’s scrying efforts…of your mutual existence. As of right this moment, this minion of Morgan’s doesn’t know that you, Trey and Frankie, are alive any more than Morgan knows that Garrett Bloodnight is the descendant of Galahad! I needed both you, as siblings, here to fight in the end battle. That was part of the prophecy I’ve seen. I did not know what might happen if either or both of you were not here; dead at the hands of Morgan’s main lackey! So…yes…I kept each of you from knowing the other one was alive.”
The look on the sibling’s faces bordered on incredulity. Mac saw it as his responsibility to get the rest of the information out of Merlin since the brother and sister were palpably bewildered.
“Who the hell is Morgan LeFey’s general? Why is he so important? Why would he want to kill Trey and Frankie? Spit it out, Merlin! For the love of God…quit fucking with people!”
Merlin raised one brow, but finally moved closer to the siblings. “Trey Se
ward and Frankie Radcliffe were both once known as Scott and Sarah Pratt, respectively. Their father was Effrin Pratt. Sorry to say…Effrin didn’t die in the Galveston hurricane. After he beat his daughter, Sarah, to a near death-like state, the son-of-a-bitch ran from his home. He then hid in a brothel so that his son, Scott…and the police…couldn’t find him. Later, Effrin was caught up in the hurricane and injured to the point of becoming immortal. Effrin is now Morgan’s consort and her main general.”
There came a horrible moment of silence. Mac almost felt Trey’s and Frankie’s hearts tearing in half. “How do you know all this?” Mac softly questioned.
“For some very strange reason that I hope is more than mere chance, I’m being allowed to see Effrin’s past in my visions. I know the man survived near drowning in Galveston, to become an immortal who turned rogue. Caught up in all kinds of scandalous, illegal, and insidious acts, Effrin found himself being hunted by legally operating immortals from many countries. He fell in with a gang of rogues who were later approached and trained to be Morgan LeFey’s henchman. Now, Effrin is by our enemy’s side…as her lover and her general. For whatever reason, the Whore of Camelot, as she was once called, is using Effrin Pratt as her connection to the world. Effrin will do anything for her. To include murdering his own children.” Merlin took a deep breath. “My scrying only shows me that Effrin never leaves her side. Oddly, Morgan doesn’t seem to care, or might not even know, that I am able to glean every other aspect about her lover’s existence since Galveston. The only information she continually hides has to do with her whereabouts, her current disguise, and what actions she’s taking to meet us in battle…though I am getting closer and closer to gleaning some of her strategies.” He shook his head as if to clear it. “I am always trying to fool her, and to never let her know precisely what I am doing. I allow certain facts to escape my magical protection, while hiding others. All to confound her. Hiding Garrett Bloodnight, as the descendant of Sir Galahad, is one such fact. Hiding the existence of Effrin’s son and daughter, is another. You can imagine that Effrin’s shock will quite disable him, when he sees both Frankie and Trey on the battlefield…on the opposing side! That was worth hiding the brother and the sister from each other.”
