As if she’s heard me, the banshee raises a bony hand in silent greeting. Fresh tears spring to my eyes, thrilled to see that, despite everything that’s happened, they’re both fine.
And she’s not the only one. My throat constricts as countless more people and Fey creatures emerge from the cave’s mists to join the others by the edge of the water, their faces glowing with an inner fire, their eyes locked on a spot in the lake.
Taking Puck in her arms, the banshee is the first to move. With a final nod at me, she walks straight into the lake then slips beneath its dazzling surface, disappearing without a ripple.
“Banshee!” I yell.
But Danu holds me back before I can climb down the island to dive after my friends. “You gave them this opportunity,” she says, “don’t take their choice away.”
“Opportunity?” I ask, turning on her. “To go drown themselves?”
Danu’s smile is wistful. “To return home.” She extends her other hand as more knights and Fey follow in the banshee’s footsteps. “Your sacrifice has allowed them to open their eyes and heart at long last, and see what was there all along.”
“What?” I ask, voice wobbly.
“Too many believed that death would have sent them into a sea of eternal fire to expiate their sins. So burn they did, until you showed them that what they needed was to let go of their hate and self-loathing. Only then did they understand that the fire they had expected was but an illusion of their own making, bred of their own fear and guilt.”
My legs give out from underneath me, and Arthur rushes to catch me. I stare numbly as more of them disappear into the lake. All of them dead. And all of them waiting to cross the final Gate.
In the end, I failed.
I wasn’t able to save them.
“Do not mourn for them, Morgana,” Danu continues. “They are finally at peace, and moving on to a place beyond sorrow.”
“All of them?” I find myself asking.
Danu hesitates slightly. On the far shore, two shimmering figures step together into the water—Myrdwinn and Lady Vivian, clasping hands and smiling brightly.
“Some have lived with fear for so long, they are unwilling to relinquish it, dreading its absence even more,” she says at last. “For those, Hell is always open.”
I spot another familiar face and a sob tears from my lips. I watch Keva pause in her tracks, Daniel mirroring her like a human shadow.
“She can’t be dead,” I say, voice quivering.
Keva turns her face in our direction, shielding her eyes against the lake’s bright glare. For a moment, I imagine her look of disdain at our torn and bloodied uniforms turn into a knowing smirk at finding Arthur and me practically in each other’s arms. Then, with a final toss of her braid, Keva motions for Daniel to keep up with her, and they, too, disappear beneath the lake’s surface.
Arthur’s arms tighten around my shoulders as we watch more of our friends make their way into the starlit lake: Owen, Jack, and Kaede, Father Tristan and Lady Ysolt, followed by a dapper-looking Sir Boris. Blanchefleur, Lugh, and Oberon are next, bracketed by Urim and Thummim, Lance and Gale close on their tails.
I don’t know that I can stand this for much longer. Half our Order, it seems, and many more I’ve never met, make their way through the golden Gate, and just as many Fey.
Arthur tenses beside me at the sight of Luther. He’s standing a little off to the side, looking both fearful and awed at the same time. I reach over my shoulder for Arthur’s hand and twine my fingers with his, feel him release a long breath as his father decides to follow along with the others.
“I guess it’s my turn now,” Mordred finally says, when the flow of people has somewhat abated.
I bite hard on my lip to stop it from trembling. “Please, don’t,” I manage to say.
Mordred’s eyes go round in surprise, then his features soften. He wipes my tears away with a calloused knuckle. “I died back there, sis,” he says. “Besides, even if that hadn’t been the case, this world—your world—isn’t made for the likes of me.”
“I could show you,” I insist, pleading. “It’s really not so bad. You could go to school, like you always wanted.”
Mordred lets out a bark of laughter at my usual promise to him. “It’s all right. Jennifer told me what that’s like, not to mention what I saw with you, and I really don’t think I’ve missed much after all.”
Then, with a final nod at us, Mordred leaves. I keep my eyes on his back as he proceeds down the island, head held high and shoulders back. The light clings to his body as he wades into the water, welcoming.
And then he, too, is gone.
I rub unconsciously at my chest in a vain attempt to dispel the dull throb I feel there, then sense Danu’s attention shift to me, and look up into her golden eyes.
“It is time we said our goodbyes as well, daughter,” she says, cupping my cheek in her surprisingly warm hand. “But always remember how proud of you I am.”
A new and sharper pain rips through my chest, from front to back, and only then do I remember that I impaled myself on Excalibur after turning mortal. I look down at the gaping wound between my ribs, blood dripping profusely down my uniform. I gasp in shock, no longer feeling the rest of my body. Everything around me is disintegrating.
“It’s OK, Morgan,” I hear Arthur say, as if from very far away. I try to tether myself to his voice. “I’m right here with you.”
I mean to tell him something, something important. But I can no longer form a coherent thought. I rasp in a breath, darkness clouding my vision.
In the end, like in the worst of dreams, everyone I’ve ever loved is taken away from me, even Arthur.
Epilogue
“Reports have come in from China and Australia over the night, Sir,” a deep baritone voice says, “both stating the same thing: That all Fey activity has suddenly stopped, and every single previously-known Demesnes entirely abandoned. Whatever happened to Avalon, it seems it was a worldwide phenomenon.”
I stir on what feels like a bed, a dull pain throbbing in my chest at the movement.
“As Lugh had told us.” I recognize Hadrian’s clipped tone. “But…”
“But it still feels odd to know they’ve all left.”
A shiver runs down my body, to twine itself around my heart, making it skip a beat that’s echoed by a machine’s beep.
Arthur’s still here with me. Just like he promised!
I frown at that. When did he promise such a thing? Last thing I remember he was dying, and I sent him away with Puck and the banshee while I faced Carman and—
I take in a shuddering gasp as the rest of my memories come flooding back.
“Arthur, she’s moving!” Hadrian exclaims.
“Morgan?” Arthur asks gently, sounding closer. “Morgan, can you hear me?”
I scrunch up my face, finding it difficult to breathe properly while also trying to form an intelligible thought. Too many questions are warring in my head, begging to be answered. Where are we? What happened? Are the others truly gone? What about Carman? The school?
“She looks like she’s in pain,” Hadrian murmurs.
“Wait, I think she’s trying to say something,” Arthur whispers urgently.
Something brushes against my chin. I try to open my eyes again, but it feels like they’ve been glued shut. “…balls…,” I croak in frustration.
There’s a muffled sound of laughter. “Seems like she’s doing all right, actually,” Hadrian says.
Rough hands grab mine, squeezing until my carpals grind together, and Arthur bursts into tears beside me.
“Ouch,” I mumble, finally able to crack one eye open.
I find myself staring at a pale Arthur, his worried eyes brimming with tears. “Morgan,” he croaks, half-rising from his seat. “How do you feel? Where does it hurt?” Without letting go of my hand, he turns to a stunned Hadrian. “Get the doctor in here now!”
“I’m fine,” I say, letting out a wheezing br
eath. “Just…confused…”
Arthur raises my hand to his lips. “You’re safe now. We all are, thanks to you and your mother.”
“All?”
Arthur scrubs his free hand through his messy hair, looking haunted. “Those who survived and didn’t cross over,” he says. “The others are…gone. Like Avalon. And, it seems, every other Fey place. But before it disappeared completely, Danu used the last of her strength to return us here. She also warned us that once the final portal closed, all our powers would be gone too.”
His words revive the deep wound I feel at the loss of our friends. “It was all true, then,” I whisper to myself.
They’re all gone. Banshee and Puck will never be at my side again. I will never hear Keva’s brutally honest opinions, nor be able to share secrets with her again. Gale will never pop out of nowhere with ready-made solutions whenever we’re in trouble. My brother Mordred, my guardian angel, is gone as well. There’s no more Blanchefleur, Oberon. No Lugh. No Danu.
No magic.
We remain silent for a long moment—I lost in thought, Arthur watching my slightest move. Finally, I return my gaze to him. “Why didn’t you go with them?” I ask gruffly.
The question startles Arthur. His thumb rubs the back of my hand nervously. “Danu said to me, when the banshee took me back to her, that my fate became tied to yours the moment you healed me the first time, so how could I leave you?” he says slowly. “But the truth of the matter is that I’ve liked you long before I ever met you—through those letters you used to write Irene. Then, when you appeared in my life, I only fell harder.” His hazel eyes fasten upon mine, so intense that I forget to breathe. “And from then on out, I vowed to always have your back, no matter what, even if…if you didn’t want me to be by your side.”
The door to the room slams open, making me nearly fall off the bed in shock. “We heard you were awake!” a thickly French-accented voice booms out.
The corners of my mouth lift at the sight of the two cousins ambling their way inside the hospital room.
“Gauvain, Gareth, glad you’re alive!”
“So are we,” Gareth says.
My eyes drop to the stump of his left arm where his war hammer used to be. “How…?” I start.
“It is a shame I couldn’t keep it, hein[37]?” Gareth says, tracking my gaze. “I guess I should have smashed that petit morveux[38] when I had the chance.”
“He means the pixie we freed and who owed us three wishes in return,” Gauvain explains, leaning back against the white wall, the pink scars that now cover his entire face garish in the electric light. “Dumbo here used our last wish so we could finally get Carman’s dragon to fly over the ward’s demarcation line.”
“That was a brilliant plan,” Gareth says, smiling appreciatively at the memory. “Soon as Bri reactivated the last ward”—he cuts his hand across his throat, whistling—“right off!”
“And the freed pixie decided to take its treasured weapon back,” Gauvain finishes, “though it conveniently forgot to return his hand.”
Gareth shrugs. “A good exchange, I think,” he says.
The door opens again to let Hadrian through, followed by a short woman I assume to be my doctor. I try to sit up for her, but it only makes my head spin, and I drop my head back onto the pillows with a grimace.
“Steady there,” the doctor says, checking the machines at my bedside.
“What’s wrong with me?” I ask, out of breath again.
I let the doctor check my eyes with her pocket light. “You, young lady, have been in a coma for a month,” she says, “it’s only normal you should—”
“Coma?” I repeat, before shouting, “For a month?” I turn a furious eye at Arthur. “And I only find that out now?”
“After the accident you had, you should consider yourself lucky,” the doctor says.
The boys hastily turn away as she opens my shirt to check on my wound. I look down as well, shocked to see the long, puckered scar that mars the side of my breast, dark stitches sticking out from it like dozens of insect legs. And just like that, I am reminded that I’ve lost my Fey abilities along with my friends and family, and there’s no way of getting any of them back.
Not when all the magic in this world’s gone.
I turn away, gripping my covers so tightly my fingers hurt, and stare instead out the narrow window on the other side of my bed. The skies are clear, blued tinged with strands of fluffy pink and golden clouds chasing each other above budding trees as the morning dawns. And, if I pay close attention, I can almost hear the faint trills of early birdsong.
“Spring?” I ask softly.
The doctor closes my shirt, eyeing me attentively. “Your temperature’s down,” she says at last. “Means you’re finally getting over your infection.”
“Does this mean she can leave her room?” Gareth asks with his most charming smile. “Just for a little bit.”
The doctor purses her mouth. Anticipating her disapproval, Gauvain claps Arthur’s shoulder, and adds, “Might do loads of good for this young man to soak in some Vitamin D, too.”
The doctor lets out a defeated sigh. “Very well,” she says. “But only for an hour. And at the first sign of fatigue, you bring her back here. You hear me?”
“Loud and clear.”
We watch her leave the room, and when the door closes on her, Gareth says, “It’s strange to think we’re never going to go back to Avalon.”
Gauvain spears him with a glance. “It’s strange for you to think at all. You should stop. It doesn’t suit you.”
“What are you going to do now?” I ask.
The cousins shrug in unison. “Go back home, I expect,” Gauvain says.
“And the others?” I ask tentatively, afraid of what else they may not be telling me.
“Jen said something about doing penance and joining a cloister somewhere,” Hadrian says.
“So out of character for her,” Gauvain says with a small shake of his head.
Not really, I want to say, remembering the burned girl huddled in the KORT room. She’s lost everyone who’s ever cared for her, and whatever Carman did to her must have left scars that will never go away.
“Sir Cade and that Inspector Bossart are currently helping survivors integrate lay society,” Hadrian continues.
“Not until they get their PR back on track,” Gauvain says, scratching at the part of his scalp that hasn’t been burned away by Carman’s dragon. “The way they talk of us on the news, I’m surprised no one’s been burned at the stake yet.”
“That’s so nineteenth century,” Gareth says dismissively. He grins. “I’d expect the electric chair, at least!”
Silence greets his words, stretching uncomfortably in the small room. One of the boys clears his throat self-consciously, and I hear someone’s stomach growl. I watch Arthur through half-lidded eyes, concerned at how quiet he’s remained during this exchange.
“What about you?” I force myself to ask.
Arthur pulls at a loose string sticking out from my cover. “I’m not sure” he says at last. “To be quite honest, I never thought I’d survive the war. And now…” His voice trails off. “Irene says she’s still got some funds she stashed away somewhere that the bank can’t touch, so I guess we’ll be fine too.”
“And what about me?” I ask.
All four knights look at me questioningly.
“Weren’t you raised in a regular school?” Gauvain asks. “I imagine you could finish up your senior year and go to college, or something.”
“You mean boarding school?” I say, repressing a shiver.
“Doesn’t have to be,” Hadrian says. “You’re of legal age now, so you can do whatever you want.”
“She sure can!” comes a loud voice from the doorway, and we all turn to find Sir Neil standing there, a beaming Bri at his side.
“Hadrian said you were awake,” Bri exclaims, pushing past her father.
I smile at her, glad that she’s still
with us. “Still feels surreal, somehow,” I say. “Like I’m dreaming and am about to wake up any minute.”
Grinning maniacally, Bri pinches my arm, and I shout out in pain. “See? Not dreaming,” she says, ignoring Arthur’s malevolent glare.
“We came as soon as we heard,” Sir Neil says with a stern look at his daughter. “Unfortunately, due to some tricky matters with Interpol, your uncle couldn’t make it. But he’s sent me in his stead to inform you that, as you’ve long passed your eighteenth birthday—”
“You’ve got some money too now,” Bri finishes. “Although you’re not rich anymore, thanks to”—she glances at her father—“prior mismanagement of funds. But hey, you’ve got your uncle too. So no need to worry.”
Sir Neil harrumphs in seeming displeasure, but the fond look he throws Bri tells me he’s quite the proud father.
“Just a matter of a few papers to sign and you’ll gain full independence,” he says. “Bri’s correct in that most of the assets left by your father are gone, but it doesn’t mean you’re lacking. Far from it.”
I blink owlishly at the two of them, then turn my gaze back to Arthur. “You mean I can do whatever I want with it?”
“That is correct,” Sir Neil says.
I break into a grin, and slide my hand inside Arthur’s, enjoying the shocked blush that creeps up his neck at the unexpected gesture.
“Guess you’re saddled with me till we’re at least both through college, cause I’m not going back to some dreary boarding school,” I tell him. “I think you’re gonna like college, though it’s probably best you don’t try to boss everyone around like you used to. You’ll be able to find out what you like to do, outside of fighting, that is, and we’ll get to see each other every day, and…”
I stop, finding myself turning as scarlet as Arthur.
“I mean,” I add, feeling terribly stupid all of a sudden, “I don’t want you to feel like you have to…but I thought…I mean, if you’d rather do something else or have other plans…you really don’t—”
Arthur leans suddenly forward and presses his lips to mine, taking my breath away and ending my painful monologue at the same time.
Curse of the Fey: A Modern Arthurian Legend (Morgana Trilogy Book 3) Page 40
