Sentries of Camelot (Ruby Morgan Book 2)

by LJ Rivers

  Sentries of Camelot

  Ruby Morgan: Book Two

  L.J. Rivers

  ISBN: 978-82-93420-43-9

  Copyright © 2019 by L.J. Rivers and Inspirert Publishing

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to locales, places, actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Any such violation constitutes copyright infringement.

  About the Author

  L.J. Rivers is an author of Urban Fantasy. This is L.J.’s second book about Ruby Morgan. L.J. would absolutely love it if you want to follow their work on your chosen platform.

  www.ljrivers.com

  Get the novelette Scream of Death when you sign up to LJ’s newsletter

  With love,

  for Embla, Storm, Michael and Kristiane

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Book Three

  The Ruby Morgan Universe

  One

  I was no stranger to morning fog, but this was bordering on ridiculous. I actually had to slow down to see the Hamgate entrance to Richmond Park, and although I seldom took the time to appreciate the beauty of it, today I wouldn’t have been able to. I didn’t dare look at my watch for fear of running into anyone on their way to work, even if the odds were slim this early on a Saturday morning. Not that I had any chance of beating my personal best in this thick November fog anyway.

  As I turned right onto the gravel path, my mind drifted to Brendan and our date for tonight—which wasn’t really a date per se. We had been hanging out for a while now, not really dating—and we had yet to kiss. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to, but it felt like I would be misleading him. Before we could take our relationship to the next level, I had to tell him what I was—a half Fae. Every time I had tried to tell him, however, the words got stuck in my throat. There was a chance I would lose him if I did, and that would break my heart.

  Concentrate, I said to myself, not sure if it came out aloud. But I had to focus on following the winding walkways in the park. On a sunny day, I could easily take shortcuts over lawns and through the many groves, but today I could only see a few steps ahead. My path ran parallel to Queen’s Road, and although I had given up on any decent time, I pushed as fast as I dared.

  I loved running at this early hour—a time Charlie had named ‘half past insanity’. In the short time I had lived in London, Charlie had become the closest friend I’d ever had, but unlike me, she liked to sleep in.

  Today, I wasn’t the only one enjoying the solitude of the morning. Behind me, the heavy steps of another jogger hit the ground at a slightly faster rhythm than mine. I slowed and carefully stepped onto the grass to let whoever it was pass by.

  No one came. The footsteps had stopped.

  “Hello?” The word came out a lot louder than I had planned. I swallowed, the sweat rolling down inside my compression top and windbreaker. “Hel—”

  “Run, Princess!” said a voice in my ear.

  I whirled around, but there was nobody there. Only, there was—something. Someone had stood there, and all that was left was the shape of a man in the fog. And it—he—had told me to run.

  Princess? The shadow had called me Princess, but I hadn’t heard or seen him in over two months. I had almost started to believe I had imagined him. Was he here? Now?

  “Run!” the voice repeated from the mist.

  Footsteps started again from somewhere behind me. I spun back around. A black-clad man emerged from the fog. That was no jogger at all. He reached for my arm. I jerked back, jumped onto the path and dashed forward. Visibility was still virtually zero, but I had no choice. If memory served, there should be about three hundred yards to the Kingsgate exit. Usually, I could sprint that in just over thirty-five seconds, but what about the Harvester behind me?

  Because it had to be a Harvester. I couldn’t imagine any ordinary muggers being up this early, let alone chase joggers in the park. Besides, I knew very well how attractive my Fae blood was on the MagX market.

  Surely I couldn’t outrun a trained Harvester? My gut feeling gave me both the answer, “no chance in Avalon”, and the alternative. I ran out onto the grass again, sprinting towards the vague shadows of trees. If I could make it to the grove, I might have a chance zigzagging among the trunks. That could give me enough time to build a fireball or two in my hands to throw in the direction of my pursuer, and hopefully, that would be enough to scare him off.

  I made it to the trees, cursing under my breath when I noticed the fog was lighter. That wasn’t what I had hoped for, as this made it easier for the Harvester to follow me. I would have given my left arm to have Jen’s wolf-shifting power now. Instead, I smashed my left wrist into a low hanging branch, the pain forcing a yelp out of me. I looked behind me and, sure enough, the Harvester had picked up on the sound and was heading towards me.

  My blood boiled as I prepared to throw fire at him.

  “That won’t help you,” he spat, waving his hand in front of him. The circular motion formed a shield—of magic!

  He was high on MagX. Bugger!

  In my right hand, a tiny ball of fire had formed. It would have to do. I threw it as hard as I could against the tree next to him. It blasted into flames, throwing bark and splinters left and right. The Harvester flinched and ducked, and I seized my chance. I swerved and ran, hoping to gain a few seconds’ head start.

  Sprinting out of the park through Kingsgate, I caught sight of a tiny ray of the early sun fighting its way down King’s Road. The Harvester was still hot on my heels, his feet pounding the pavement, getting closer with each step. By the time I spotted the gates of White Willow University, visibility had reached safer levels. An old man was walking towards me on the pavement, twenty-odd yards ahead.

  I couldn’t risk his life. The Harvester might kill him if he tried to interfere, so I jumped out between a couple of parked cars.

  “Miss Morgan, is that you?” said the man. “Out for a morni—hey, you! Stop there!”

  Crap! He had spotted my pursuer. This could get ugly. I had no choice but to take the Harvester on.

  I was wrong.

  The old man stepped into the street, holding his walking stick out. As the Harvester sprinted past him, the man swung his cane, sweeping the Harvester off his feet. My pursuer fell flat on his face. He tried to get up, but the old man hit him hard on his lower back with the cane. The Harvester squirmed.

  “Get away from her,” the old man hissed. “Or suffer the consequences.”

  I started towards them, ready to throw a force field around the man if the Harvester tried to fight him. To my relief, the bastard seemed to realise he had lost his edge. He rolled sideways, got to his feet and sprinted down the street. It seemed a bit odd that he would run from an old man, but the effects of the MagX must have started to fade.

  For a second, it looked like the old man considered
following him, but he stayed put. He turned to me instead. The first time I had seen the professor, he had worn something out of the colonial 1800s. Now, he was dressed in yet another old-fashioned outfit, tailored and perfectly fitted, but this looked more like what I imagined Victorian fashion looked like. A blue dress coat ended right below his knees, and I could just make out the white vest underneath the broad lapels. His lavender trousers matched the gloves that folded around the head of his cane.

  I hadn’t seen him since he helped Charlie and me find the old blueprints of the uni campus, which made it possible to locate Jen in the discontinued boiler room. I almost lost the other of my newfound friends that night. I had only known Jen for a short while, but she had become almost as close a friend as Charlie was.

  Charlie was human, but I trusted her completely with my secret, and Jen was a Mag herself. A Shifter, who could turn into the most magnificent white wolf. After Charlie and I saved Jen from the crazy Harvesters, who had already killed two girls and were trying to drain Jen’s blood, we had become closer than I had ever been with anyone, other than my mum and dad.

  “Professor Kaine,” I called and approached him. “Are you ok?”

  He looked genuinely surprised at my question. “Why, yes. Of course I am. But more importantly, are you, Miss Morgan?”

  I glanced down the street as the Harvester turned left onto Crescent Road. I suspected it wasn’t the last I would see of him.

  “How did you—?”

  “Are you unharmed, child?”

  “Yes, Professor. I bumped my arm, but nothing serious. We should—”

  “You should go home and have a warm shower and some breakfast. I think I will change my planned route for this morning’s walk. I very much dislike change, but today I believe it is justified.”

  I smiled. “I believe you’re right, sir. Thank you so much for—” I pointed down the street. “For your help.”

  He scoffed. “Damned purse-snatcher. I should have given him a thorough pummelling, made sure he remembered me.”

  Not commenting on the purse snatching, I let out a little laugh. “I don’t think he’ll forget you, Professor. That handle seems quite heavy.”

  He lifted the cane, showing me the large white handle. It looked expensive, and not at all Victorian in style. A snake curled itself along the top inches of the dark brown wood, turning into a big knot at the top.

  “The cane itself is ebony,” Kaine said. “The handle is somewhat illegal, I’m afraid. At least in this day and age. Ivory, hand-carved in Kenya, more than two centuries ago.”

  “That’s really old. An heirloom?”

  “Something like that. Well, I’ll be on my way, young lady. And you had better get that arm looked at, just in case.”

  “I will. Thank you again, Professor.”

  “Nonsense,” he puffed, smiling.

  I watched him stroll across the street, his old legs floating like he was a dancer in a 1940s musical film—the morning light filtering through the remains of the fog actually made him appear in black and white. I turned and headed through the campus gates.

  The pain in my left wrist was getting more intense. It had started to swell and had adopted at least three different shades of blue. I moved my fingers, slowly at first, then made a fist. It hurt, but not too much. As I was also able to move the wrist itself, I concluded that nothing was broken.

  The swelling threatened to crack the lock on my pulse watch, however, so I removed it. The screen told me it was still only 7.32, and although I had stopped running many minutes ago, my heart rate was touching on ninety per cent.

  I looked around. Nobody else was out. I had to try, even though I knew very well that we Fae could only heal others, not ourselves.

  I placed my right hand over the predominantly purple swelling and closed my eyes. The surge of magic in my veins and nerves was an intoxicating experience—one I had always loved and never tired of. The tiny hairs rose on the back of my neck. I sent a flow of magic healing through my hand and into the injured wrist, feeling the heat move through the muscles and sinew. Beads of sweat sizzled on my skin, but I knew it wouldn’t burn me. After all, only weeks ago, I held fireballs in my hands without getting a single mark.

  I noticed I’d been holding my breath. Releasing the grip, I also let the air out of my lungs, letting go of the magical rush. The pain in my wrist was very much still there.

  Oh well. I had to try, didn’t I?

  I was soaked and needed a shower. Back at the flat, however, Charlie and Jen would be fast asleep, and I didn’t want to risk waking them. And since my stomach was growling, I walked towards Brady’s instead. A hot cup of green tea and one of their freshly baked scones might help calm me down.

  “Shit, that looks terrible,” Nick said.

  I hadn’t noticed him when I walked in. All I could think of was the tea and scone on the table in front of me.

  “Trust me, this is nothing. What are you doing here so early?” I asked.

  He nodded at the table on the far side, stacks of books almost hiding his laptop.

  “I’ve got a shitload of reading to do, and our flat smells just as bad as it looks. I had planned to watch West Ham beat the crap out of Tottenham later, a task they will fail miserably at, of course. But Jack and Reece came over last night, and we all sort of drowned ourselves, and well—never mind that. What happened to your arm?”

  “I slipped on some wet leaves and twisted it on the landing, I guess. It’s just a sprain.”

  “Sure? Looks like it might be broken. You should have it looked at.”

  Before I could tell him about my expert medical examination and conclusion, the door sprung open. My favourite wolf rushed in, although in her equally beautiful human form.

  “What do you mean, broken?” she said as she hurried towards our table. “Are you hurt, Red?”

  “How did you hear that?” Nick asked.

  Jen still hadn’t warmed to him after his anti-Mag rant at the pub one night during Freshers’ Week. She shrugged. “You were loud.”

  I bit my lip to quell the laughter, and had to focus on Jen’s blue eyes to avoid looking at Nick. I knew very well about her hearing, which had to be five times better than a human’s, if not more.

  “I didn’t break anything,” I said. “It’s just a sprained wrist, chillax.”

  Jen turned to Nick. “And what are you doing here?”

  “Hey, when are you going to give me a break? I’ve said I’m sorry a dozen times already.”

  “I don’t think you mean it, is all.”

  “Whatever.” Nick waved her off. “Get that arm looked at, Ruby, ok? I’ll leave you girls to it, and return to the separation of power and reform in post-cold war Russia.”

  “See you at work,” I said and turned to Jen again. “He’s actually quite nice,” I whispered as he walked away.

  “Yeah, yeah—a nice racist. Like that Colbert guy.”

  “Colbert? Ah, you mean Colburn,” I said. “He’s creepy. But no, Nick’s not like that at all.”

  And that was the truth. Jarl Colburn was the quintessential creep if I ever saw one. He claimed to be a family man, a devoted Christian who loved everyone.

  Yeah, right.

  The last time I saw him was in a clip from one of his sermons. Church of Purity, he called his congregation. What had he called the Magicals again? ‘Spawn of Satan, children of the fallen angels.’

  In Colburn’s eyes, Magicals should be incarcerated and kept away from humans. His booming voice still resonated in my head: To keep God’s Earth pure, as He intended when He created us in His image.

  “Earth to Ruby?”

  “Huh?”

  “Seems I lost you there, babe,” said Jen. “Get back to your broken arm, will you? What happened?”

  It was my turn to wave her off. “It’s really just a sprain, not even that. Where have you been this early? I thought you’d be fast asleep.” I looked at her clothes, every bit as wet as mine, though grimier, as i
f they had been stomped into the dirt before she put them on. “You’ve been roaming again?”

  She winked. “Caught me a little breakfast, yes. Want the details?”

  I held my hand up to stop her. “No, please! If I never hear about your devouring of small animals again, it’ll still be too soon.”

  She laughed. “Don’t worry, I have no desire to have your vomit all over my shoes again.”

  I leaned forward. “But something happened this morning.”

  Even though she could have heard my whisper two football fields away, Jen also leaned forward. I told her about the Harvester, and how Professor Kaine helped me.

  “Saved me, I should say.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “I think he saved the Harvester, no?”

  Sometimes, I hadn’t quite figured out when, her perfect English was supplemented with the tiniest hint of an accent. Her French heritage could be heard in the very occasional words like “think”, or—like now—that little “no” at the end.

  “You’re probably right,” I replied. “I’m glad I didn’t have to use magic in front of Kaine. But I would have, of course, if it came to that.”

  “I only wish I had taken a different route,” she said between her teeth.

  I nodded, having thought the same. With Jen by my side in her wolf form, the Harvester would’ve had no chance whatsoever.

  “Let’s go home,” Jen said. “I desperately need a shower, and so do you. And get some ice on that wrist.”

  “I tried to heal it,” I said. “Didn’t work.”