The Knight: The Original's Trilogy - Book 3

by Cara Crescent

  Scott was gone.

  Jesus. He must’ve gone down one of the tunnels.

  “Sweetheart, don’t cry.” Scott’s voice was quiet, but still echoed in the tunnels. “I didn’t choose to be this way. Back when your mother and I got married . . . .” Scott’s voice faded.

  Was he talking to his daughter? Impossible. First a boy screaming—something guaranteed to trigger Harrison, and now this? What the hell was going on?

  Julius ran back to the center of the cistern. He didn’t see the light from Scott’s phone down any of the tunnels.

  Leopold was a projector. He could project a person’s truest desire. But a boy’s screams? Dealing with a daughter who was upset because her father was gay? Those weren’t desires.

  They were nightmares.

  Julius took off his hood. He turned, saw something move in the darkness and froze.

  There, not ten feet away, his brother, Julian, stared back at him.

  What was Leopold thinking? Not only had he released a Watcher upon the Earth, but he’d released the Watcher of War and Strife. If that wasn’t enough, he’d given Azazel Abaddon the Destroyer to possess. The Original’s two souls were dead. Samael’s two halves were floundering.

  Everything went into stasis as they waited for the Original to reincarnate. Both the Watcher and Leopold were stuck within the confines of their pact. Abaddon didn’t seem to realize the power he had—ironic, really, how he’d overused his power when there was no need, and in this reincarnation, he didn’t seem to realize he had any.

  The goddess wrung her hands. Armageddon was imminent.

  Chapter 30

  Machon

  Kat followed Trina upstairs. “I don’t understand why you’d make a threat like that. The last thing Jules needs is to be worrying about me.”

  “He may be crazy, honey, but that male isn’t stupid. He knows if we hand him over to the humans, he’s as good as ash. I had to give him a reason to come back.”

  “You’re worried his Vampiric survival instinct will kick in.” Much stronger than a human’s survival instinct, vampires couldn’t kill themselves, which is why the Watcher cursed Julius to cut out his eyes, not to kill himself directly. His survival instinct would’ve overcome the latter directive.

  “There’s only one thing more powerful than survival instinct.” Trina shrugged. “A male vampire’s need to protect their mate.”

  She shook her head. “I hate you a little for this.”

  “But you’ll love me again if everything works out the way I’m hoping. Julius now has a way to prove himself. It’s all up to him.” She paused to purse her lips. “We’ll figure this out. I swear we will.”

  Kat nodded.

  “Now get some rest. I’ll let you know as soon as they’re back.” Trina walked down the hall and entered her room.

  Kat opened the door and stood in the entry to the room she had used prior to Julius’ exorcism. It was much the same. Her travel kit still sat on the worn vanity in the corner. The novel she’d brought was still lying open over the arm of the chair in the corner. Blue, smokeless flame danced in the fireplace. She walked inside, closed the door and leaned back against it.

  “You look sad, butterfly.”

  Her gaze shot to the big four poster bed and froze. “What are you doing here?” Had Trina found a way to switch them after all? Was all that talk earlier about not being sure if she could help for the benefit of someone else?

  “Where else would I go?” He winked.Julius sat propped up with an abundance of pillows, his legs stretched out and his bare feet crossed at the ankles. He stretched his arms up and stacked them behind his head, which made his unbuttoned black shirt pout open. He wore a patch over one eye. Winked at her with the other.

  She frowned. Where were the bandages she’d put on him? Where were the scars on his chest? Jules had been wearing jeans and a sleeveless white tee.

  This was Julian.

  “You look displeased.” He sat up, resting his arm on one of his knees. “I did everything you said.”

  “I never told you to get yourself arrested.” She sucked in a quick breath. What was she doing? This was her projection. The embodiment of her imagination. And she was arguing with it. Madness lay down this path. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t need you anymore.” How did she get rid of him? What had Tamriel told her? To pour her emotion into the thing? Or was that to create a doppelgänger?

  He got to his feet and rounded the bed. “Now, that’s where you’re wrong. Things may not have worked out the way you wanted, but I did what you said—”

  What had she said? She’d told him to learn his part from her memories and to make himself known to everyone at the Citadel. So, yeah, he had done that.

  “—and while things may not have worked out how you hoped, there’s no reason why I can’t stay.”

  She narrowed her gaze. What was she missing? Had Trina told him to be here? Had she programmed him to say certain things for the Watchers’ benefit? She backed up a step. “Explain.”

  One corner of his mouth tipped up. “I liked watching you in the tub.”

  Wait. Trina couldn’t have known about that.

  “You know how much I liked watching you.”

  Why was he talking in the first person about Julius’ experiences?

  “And I know how much you enjoyed the results.” He sauntered closer.

  She backed away, coming up hard against the wall. “What are you saying?”

  He shrugged. Smiled. He behaved so damn similar to Julius, it hurt. “You call me Jules.” He flattened his hands on the wall to either side of her. “I’ll call you butterfly.” He leaned in. “And I’ll do what I was created to do . . . please you.”

  Oh, Gaia. This was bad. She put her hand on his chest and pressed. His skin was smooth. Why was his skin smooth? She’d gotten the scars on his face correct. Julian looked more like her mate than Julius’ did right now thanks to Trina’s glamour.

  “That’s right. I’m like him, only better.”

  She shook her head. “I’m trying to figure out why I didn’t give you all the scars.”

  “Why would you? You don’t even see them.”

  He tipped his face closer to hers. He wasn’t breathing.

  No sooner had the thought entered her mind, than his chest rose under her hand as he took a breath.

  “All you have to do is tell me what you want, butterfly.”

  “I want you to never call me that again. I want you to go away.” She wanted her mate, damn it. Not some half-imagined doppelgänger.

  He shook his head. “I’ve been studying you for a while now. Noticing all the things about you that you ignore. I think I know you better than you know yourself.” He leaned in to kiss her.

  White hot rage blazed through her system. She focused the energy into her palms which she pressed against his chest and . . . and nothing happened. She didn’t have Magic anymore. She shoved against him hard, slipped past, and grabbed the brush off the vanity.

  She threw it.

  It glanced off his shoulder.

  She grabbed the book. Threw it.

  He kept coming.

  The ewer broke against his stubborn head. “Go away!”

  He crowded her back against the wall with his larger frame. She kneed him in the groin, which did nothing but make him laugh.

  Gaia, he didn’t feel. He wasn’t real. She could knee him again and again and it wouldn’t phase him at all. A tendril of fear wound its way through her.

  So focus. Get rid of it. She closed her eyes and focused all her emotions to a single point. Magnified them.

  “I know what you’re trying to do, butterfly. It isn’t going to work.”

  She did what Tamriel told her to do. Everything. Exactly like he’d taught her. Julian was still there.

  She opened her eyes. Oh, Gaia. “No, no, no!” There were two them now! She’d created another Julian.

  Someone knocked on the door. “Kat?”

  “Trina?”
Oh, praise Gaia. “Come in.”

  She shoved Julian away and this time he allowed it, backing away as the door opened.

  Trina’s gaze went from her to Julian to the new doppelgänger. “What is going on in here?”

  “I was trying to get rid of it.”

  She folded her arms over her chest. “Then how did that happen?” She nodded to the new Julian.

  “I did it wrong?”

  Julian grinned. “How can two of us be wrong?”

  Trina came in and closed the door. “Why is he even in here?”

  “I don’t know. At first I thought you sent him here.” She pointed to the Julian with no shirt. “That one thinks he knows me better than I know myself and wants to . . . .” she sputtered, too embarrassed to say what he wanted.

  Julian smiled. “I want to please you.”

  Trina looked at her askance. “Look, Kat, what you want to do in your free time is none—”

  “Nooo.” She shook her head, flicking her hand toward the doppelgängers. “Whatever you’re thinking is not what was happening here.”

  Julian’s grin widened. “Sure it is.”

  She turned on him. “You shut up.” She smacked him on the chest. “I have had enough. If you open your mouth one more time, I’m gonna . . . do something you’ll regret.”

  Trina made a gurgling noise. When she turned back to her, she was hiding a grin behind her fist. “I’m sorry, it’s like watching a kitten try to roar at a tiger.”

  “I don’t know how he ended up in here, but he has to go. Both of them. They both have to go. I’m going to freaking explode if one more stinking thing goes wrong today. I have no Magic, I don’t know how to protect myself from assholes like him.” She paused long enough to smack Julian One. “I’m being used as bait for my mate. I’m pretty sure you’re all lying to me and I’m scared, damn it. Scared and feeling completely inept.” She walked across the room and plopped down into the chair in front of the vanity. “I don’t want to deal with any of this right now.”

  “Okay. I’ve got this. Stay put.”

  Stay put? The Citadel was on lockdown. No one could leave without Trina knowing.

  A second later, Trina popped back in, alone.

  Kat had no idea where she’d left the doppelgangers, and she didn’t care.

  “I think that’s the most I’ve ever heard you say all at once.” She grinned. “And I know that’s the most complaining I’ve ever heard you do.”

  “Great. Now I’m a whiner?”

  Trina laughed. “No. But I think you’ve learned when to say no. Rowena always heaped shit on top of more shit with you. You never complained. Never disagreed.” She shrugged. “It’s nice to see you push back. That’s all I’m saying.”

  A small smile tugged at her lips. “I had to argue with Jules non-stop that first day. All he wanted to do was leave.”

  “Oh?”

  She shrugged. “He’s easy to argue with. The worst thing he ever did to me was try to gross me out by licking my face.”

  One dark brow rose high on Trina’s forehead.

  “He ended up kissing me, instead. Once I quit casting him in the roll of the villain—once I quit expecting the worse, I discovered that he’s a good man. Unconventional. Stubborn. He has a naughty sense of humor. But under all that . . . he cares. That’s why he’s fighting so hard—he doesn’t want to care, but he does.”

  Trina’s expression softened. “Then he’ll come back and prove us all wrong.” She smiled. “Come on. Lilith should be waiting for us downstairs. I let her know Crowley was gone for a while. She’s going to update us on what’s been going on back home.”

  Once the Original was born again, they all seemed to know something big was going to happen. Abaddon was drawn to the Beacon and his antics caused James, the being with half of Samael’s soul, to connect with Lilith, the being with half the Original’s soul. She was the first to regain her powers. She’d learned her lessons of humility and compassion. With James’ help, she was learning love, too.

  The Watcher escaped the Beacon and ended up in human hands. Now that James had transformed Lilith, she needed the other half of her soul. She became sick as she waited for her other half, Trina, to leave the world where she was little more than Shadow and take her place in Machon where she would be whole. Again, Abaddon’s antics caused Duncan, the other half of Samael, to meet Trina.

  The goddess nodded. All would be well.

  Chapter 31

  Azazel grinned. Leopold’s talent only allowed him to discern a being’s desire before projecting it. But Azazel had seen and heard everything each of these males had ever done. He knew their desires. And their fears.

  All three males were down the hall in Leopold’s cistern. All of them fighting their own demons, unaware of their proximity to each other. Harrison, searching for and failing to find a suffering kid. Scott, mired in a conversation he feared having with his daughter. And his old host—this would be entertaining.

  He grabbed one of the Guardian blades down from the weapons rack. With a little luck, the three of them would be so enmeshed with the projections, they wouldn’t even notice him when he ashed them one by one.

  Don’t touch my wife again!

  Azazel had been so focused on the illusions he’d projected through Leopold’s talent, he hadn’t been paying attention to his host. Leopold’s hand clamped down around the hilt of the knife and he turned it toward himself.

  I won’t let you hurt her. I’d rather kill us both than see her suffer.

  He still thought the doppelgänger real. Even with her pinned to the wall with Guardian blades, the fool refused to acknowledge the truth. The tip of the blade pierced Leopold’s skin before Azazel stopped him. Damn love-sick fool. “That’s not your wife, you idiot.” He pulled the knife out and flung it away.

  The Evelyn-doppelgänger stared down at them, silent. Probably because one of the blades he’d stabbed her with cut straight through her throat.

  Their body lunged forward and grabbed another knife from the rack. Azazel flung it away as he had with the last knife.

  Leopold’s fingers didn’t open. The blade remained gripped in his hand. His crazy host actually intended to ash them both. At least this time he hadn’t gotten hold of another Guardian blade. This was a plain diving knife. Still, Azazel resisted, not allowing Leopold to bring the knife close to their bodies.

  He turned his face to check on the three daemons in the other room. The projections were still active. Scott reached out to hug his daughter and she slapped him. Harrison was hyperventilating, in a panic to find a child that didn’t exist.

  Cold steel touched his wrist and Azazel jerked his attention back to Leopold. He’d turned the knife in his hand, the tip inching into his skin above the wrist.

  “Stop this, host!” Rage had made Leopold strong. Julius had been like this for a while after Azazel had killed Katherine during the Clearances. His anger had given him the strength to hold onto Azazel.

  For the first time in a long time, Azazel felt fear.

  Julius strode forward. “Julian? I didn’t think I’d ever . . . ”

  Julian’s mouth moved, but no words came out. He strode toward Julius with the same sure stride, but didn’t seem to divide the space between them any quicker than if Julius had been the only one moving.

  He narrowed his eyes. His brother wore jeans and a white tee with a tear across the chest . . . the same as him.

  When he stood before Julian, he reached his hand up.

  So did Julian.

  He reached forward and . . . touched glass.

  His reflection?

  How was that possible? He was a vampire. He didn’t have a reflection.

  He looked like his brother. The same dirty-blond hair with an annoying curl to it—though his could use a comb. His eyes, the same doe-brown. His lips curved. Julian used to say they had brown eyes because they were both so full of shit.

  All and all, he didn’t look dangerous. Nor insane. He looked
like someone who should have a back-pack slung over his shoulder as he walked to a college class.

  The spiders came back full force. He rubbed his chest and when they migrated, he rubbed at his ribs.

  In the mirror, his skin rippled under his shirt. He could see them there—the spiders. Crawling up his neck under the skin. Across his cheek. A tiny brown leg poked out the corner of his eye. It struggled for a moment and then pulled itself out.

  “Jesus.” He smacked his face, squashing the bug and brushing it away. They were real. The fucking things were—

  He caught his reflection again and froze.

  Forgot about the spiders.

  Forgot about the itch.

  Where were his facial scars?

  Leaning closer, he focused his gaze on his right eye. His perfect right eye. Kat had told him he’d need to wear a patch. He lifted his hand to his face and ran his fingers over the puckered flesh above and below. Traced the lid where it didn’t sit quite right against his eye, as if a chunk had been taken out.

  This was a projection. Somehow, Leopold had figured out how to project fears.

  Scott. He’d been looking for Scott. And Harrison.

  Julius lifted his arm and covered his good eye with his hand. He turned in a slow circle, scanning the area for that red and white aura he’d seen before.

  There. The blurb was closer. Man-shaped. Struggling.

  He crept closer.

  It got larger. A bright-white man-shaped light surrounded with a bigger, misshapen red aura. And in the background a faint, murky aura.

  There were three of them.

  He moved closer, balancing on his toes to keep his shoes from making that squelching noise. The figure jerked one way and then the other. He turned into one of the tunnels and lowered his hand.

  Leopold Astor Hughes. Born in 962 in what is now Wales. Wealthy. Married to a noble woman at sixteen. Both were transformed three years later. His wife pushed and prodded him until he rose through the ranks of the Council to become the youngest and eventually longest-running leader.