Sentries of Camelot (Ruby Morgan Book 2)

by LJ Rivers

  The sound of laptops closing, zippers being pulled and chairs screeching, was followed by chattering students as they left the lecture room. I sat for a moment, staring at the ruby on my ring. It had been seven years since my dad died of a MagX overdose, and I had looked for the truth in every dusty dark corner I could find. So far, I had come up empty-handed. It bothered me that I had not been able to figure it out. I knew he had MagX in his system when he was found, and the doctors had been clear about his diagnosis: a drug-induced heart attack. The thing that bothered me was the fact that it wasn’t like him at all. He hated the entire MagX industry almost as much as I did.

  “You all right there, Miss Morgan?” Mr Zhang leaned over me—or rather, more like leaned in, as he was not much taller standing than I was sitting down.

  “I was just thinking about the truth,” I said.

  “What would it change?”

  “Not sure.”

  Would it change anything if I knew where Dad had got the drug or how it ended up killing him? Why did it matter so much? He was dead either way, and I missed him so much.

  “You had some pertinent questions before,” said Mr Zhang. “Sometimes we’re better off not knowing. There are times when not knowing makes us happier. Still, most of the time, the truth will set you free.” He chuckled to himself. “I got that one right, I believe?”

  I nodded. “Thank you. I’ve got to run now, but I’ll see you next week.” I dropped my laptop into my bag and made my way out of the lecture hall.

  My bag vibrated, and I fished my phone out. There was no caller ID, and I didn’t recognize the number. I pursed my lips, then swiped open the message.

  Need to talk. Ring me as soon as you have a few. P.

  P? I shook my head at the phone as I walked down the cobbled pathway from the lecture hall, leading to the far side of Craydon Court. Logan Whelk, my old editor back in Cheshire, when I was interning at Blacon Press, had taught me many things. And aside from the fact that he was a total scumbag, and that I really should put a MeToo hashtag next to his face and post it online, he had a fair bit of journalistic insight. One thing he taught me that I agreed on, was to never allow a good story to pass me by. I plugged my earphones in and returned the call.

  “Paddock,” the voice on the other end said.

  I gaped. Why was he contacting me? It was weeks since the case of the Willow Murderer had been closed. PC Paddock was one of the police officers who had investigated the missing girls, and I hadn’t seen him since the day they caught the janitor. The officer hadn’t been my favourite person, and I couldn’t imagine I was his either. The looks he had given me during the investigation made my skin crawl. On top of that, he seemed less than taken with the prospects of Mags in his precinct. What did he want from me now?

  “This is Ruby Morgan. You needed to talk?”

  “Miss Morgan. Yes. I’m happy you returned my call.” His voice was as I remembered it: stern, with a cold edge, his cockney accent apparent in ‘appy’ and ‘me call’.

  But something in his voice sounded different, almost like he was scared. “I can’t talk on the phone, but we need to meet. When are you free?”

  I hesitated. Paddock was the last person I wanted to see, with the obvious exception of the Harvester from Richmond Park, but it sounded like it might be important.

  “I’m free tonight,” I told him.

  “Perfect. I can meet you in Richmond Park at nine. Walk into the main entrance, and I’ll make sure you find me.” He hung up.

  Alarm bells went off like crazy in my head at the mention of the park. For a second I wanted to call him back and say no, perhaps have him meet me someplace else. But he had sounded desperate, and that triggered my curiosity.

  Besides, there was another issue that bothered me more than going back to Richmond Park.

  There goes my date with Brendan, I thought. He had promised to court me again today, although I had yet to hear a word from him since we agreed on making it a date. I sent him a quick text to tell him I got caught up in some girl stuff. The fact that I was lying to him—again—was not lost on me. As I neared the white willow, he texted back.

  I’ll court you another day. Got some stuff of my own to sort out.

  I narrowed my eyes at the text. No emoji? Not even an x at the end? Maybe he was insulted that I cancelled on him, or more likely he was simply busy, and it shouldn’t bother me.

  But it did.

  Charlie and Jen were already waiting for me underneath the willow. Jen had her feet in the water, and Charlie was on her back, reading a book. Fiction, by the looks of it. Seemed she was taking a study break.

  “Red!” Jen called.

  I sped up, then dumped down between them on the large blanket they had folded out. The grass was still a little damp after the heavy rainfall, but the fog had cleared. Students scurried back and forth beside the lake and between buildings, and a couple of squirrels chased each other around the trunk of the willow. The drizzle from this morning had ceased, and it was now a lovely day. And yet my nerves were on edge. My gaze flitted around the lake, my body alert in case someone decided to jump out and attack me.

  Get a grip, Ru! Not even a Harvester would attack me in the middle of campus in broad daylight. I was almost certain that was right.

  “You clean up good,” I said to Jen, shaking off the feeling of being watched.

  “I do.”

  Charlie closed the book and sat next to me. “Herself, sure. Her bathroom, not so much. And the laundry room stinks.” She waved her arms at Jen. “Where on earth did you leave your clothes?”

  Jen shrugged. “I forgot to bring a bag for them the other day, and they got caught in the rain. Then I forgot about them until this morning. It happens.”

  Charlie shook her head and picked up her vibrating phone from the blanket. “Duncan! I have to take this. See you at home.” She grabbed her book and her bag, then started off walking and talking.

  It had been a couple of weeks since we all saw Duncan last. Ilyana’s murder had hit him hard, and he had locked himself in his room for the first week before he announced he was going on the straight and narrow to get rid of his MagX addiction. Now, he was in rehab. I hoped he would pull through and never touch the stuff again.

  “What’s up?” Jen asked as she fell on her back and air-dried her feet. “Still thinking about that Harvester?”

  “Actually, not so much. I got a text from PC Paddock, and then I spoke to him.”

  “Paddock? The copper working Ilyana’s case?”

  “That’s the one.” I looked around and watched the small figure that was Charlie skip up the steps to Craydon Court. Lowering my voice, I continued, “He wants me to meet him tonight, in Richmond Park.”

  Jen’s lip curled up into the beginning of a sneer. “You’re not going alone.”

  “Kind of hoped you would say that.” I smiled at her, then glanced back as Charlie disappeared inside our house. “Do we tell Charlie?”

  “That girl is as fierce as they come, but she’s human. If Paddock is dealing in some shady stuff, then we don’t want her in the middle of it.”

  “I’m not sure. I feel bad leaving her out of the loop, but I have no idea what Paddock wants from me.”

  The sneer on Jen’s face was replaced by a smirk. “Mon chéri, what could any man want from you? That wild red hair is doing you no favours, and your wardrobe could use a serious do-over, but babe, you’re gorgeous.”

  I stuck my tongue out. “I’m pretty sure he doesn’t want that.”

  “Even so, I’ve got your back.”

  I did feel better with Jen by my side. I had seen her wolf. She was caught off guard when she was kidnapped—by her date, no less—and I was certain she would never allow anyone to get that close to hurting her ever again. It was good that she stayed on her toes, and that I could count on her, but I hoped she wouldn’t close herself down completely from creating new relationships either. She had turned down at least five boys I knew of already si
nce the incident.

  “If we’re going on a mission tonight, we’ll need to dress the part.” Jen slid her feet into a pair of sandals, which were not at all season-appropriate, before we rolled up the blanket and started home.

  I shook my head. “It’ll be dark, and we’re meeting with Paddock. I’ll wear what I’m wearing now.”

  She shrugged. “We’ll see about that.”

  We were trotting back towards Craydon when a boy skated past us. I stopped mid-step, which my Converses were not designed to cope with, especially on the slippery leaves, and tried desperately to find my balance. As a second skater flew past, I jumped back to avoid him, my foot slipping, this time sending me flat on my back. I found myself in what I guessed would have made an excellent fail clip on YouTube. Luckily, I didn’t hit my head upon landing, but I was certainly going to have a hard time sitting in classes tomorrow—my bum taking the bulk of the impact.

  I tried pushing myself upright when a jolt of light hit my eyes so hard it felt like it was pushing me to stay down. The campus slowly disappeared before me, all the buildings, the iron gates and the big white willow, which had given the university its name, were also gone. Instead, a scene played out in front of my eyes, as if it was part of the film I watched with Brendan on Saturday. This was no romantic comedy, though.

  Three kids in hoodies and caps crouched behind a concrete block full of graffiti tags. One of the boys shouted something, but I couldn’t hear the words over the—what was that, an explosion? The concrete block was slanted to one side, and next to it lay a skateboard upside down, its wheels slowly turning to a halt. A bowl to the right and a halfpipe—or maybe a quarter, I never learned the difference—completed the skatepark scene.

  A police officer grabbed one of the kids, a girl, and something like a force field erupted in the space between them, propelling the officer away from her. Another explosion—no, a gunshot—echoed in my mind.

  A gush of blood sprayed over the grey concrete as the girl’s body slumped. Her head hit the ground with a sickening thud, her face frozen in a terrified grimace.

  Blue sparks lit up, and one of the boys dropped to his back, spasming wildly as the sparks kept flying. I tried to stand, but my feet wouldn’t obey. I wanted to help the kids—heal them.

  In a split second, the skatepark vanished, and I was back on the ground by Craydon. What in the name of Lady Nimue was that? It was so incredibly real!

  “Need a hand?” Jen stretched her arm out and pulled me to my feet. “For a medallist runner, you’re a real klutz sometimes.”

  I brushed down my clothes, and Jen helped remove the leaves sticking to my back. “That,” I said, “has never happened before.”

  “You mean you’ve never taken a swan dive like that?” She raised her brows. “Sure!”

  “No, I mean, I saw … something.”

  We sat on the bench below our flat. Jen crossed her legs, then looked at me without a word, providing me time to gather my thoughts.

  “I think I … might have a new power.”

  “You’re effing kidding me!” Jen shook her head. “Sorry. Go on.”

  “When I fell, I saw something. Like, maybe, a vision of sorts? I don’t know. There were these kids at a skatepark, there were police there, and a girl died in front of me.”

  I knitted my hands together, my finger tracing the ruby on my ring, feeling the chip that was not visible to the naked eye. What else could it be other than a vision? It was so vivid, and I had even smelled the gunpowder, hadn’t I? Receiving my firepower had been one too many powers than I thought I would get, but this? This was some high-level magic. Mum had always told me it was a rare gift to see the future—if that was what I’d seen—a gift not even she had. And Mum was a Pure.

  “Honestly, Ru, you’re beginning to freak me out.” Jen straightened her ponytail.

  “Why?”

  “I told you not to amp up your magic, yet here you are, doing just that.” She cleaned her teeth with one of her manicured nails, then softened her tone. “If this is a new power, then this is serious. A girl is dead, or about to be.”

  “Not if I can help it.”

  It did feel like it was indeed very serious. And the face of the dead girl had already begun haunting my mind. I could feel the image of her pushing to the forefront. But had it already happened, or was it, as Jen said, about to happen?

  Shaking my head free of the repeating vision, I took Jen’s hand. “There were policemen there. Makes me think this has something to do with Paddock.”

  “Then we really don’t want Charlie involved.”

  I nodded. There was no way I was going to risk Charlie’s life.

  Four

  I tiptoed down the hallway as Gwen Stefani belted out “Baby Don’t Lie” from Charlie’s room. It would likely be enough to muffle my steps, but Charlie had a sixth sense about these things, so I decided to play it safe. The main door opened with a familiar squeak that made me freeze to look back down the hall. Charlie’s door was still closed.

  I exhaled slowly and slipped outside.

  The cool wind swept over campus, sending leaves flying off in the air. The skies had cleared, but it was cold enough to make me happy I’d brought a scarf, although it totally clashed with the outfit Jen had left for me. I looked like a glammed-up version of Lara Croft in the tight-fitting leather trousers, which were definitely not something you would find at Primark. The top I was wearing had a neckline that made me uncomfortable, even with the ends of my blue scarf—which was from Primark—tucked into it.

  Jen was already by the campus gates when I walked up to her. She had said she was going out with her study group earlier, though I was fairly certain she wasn’t in one at the moment and had said that for Charlie’s benefit.

  “There you are,” she said, tilting her head to look at me. “Count on you to mess up a stunning outfit. At least, wear it like you mean it.” She pulled the scarf up from my neckline and batted it in the air, then wrapped it carefully back around in gentle hoops.

  “It’s cold,” I said.

  “You’d think someone with firepower could handle a slightly chilly November evening.”

  I laughed, and we started down the road towards Richmond Park. “We can’t all be furballs like you.”

  “True. To be fair, it needs to be Antarctica cold before my teeth chatter.”

  Long shadows stretched across the road, and I turned my head back and forth several times over, not able to hide my nerves one bit.

  Jen caught my gaze. “Worried about that stalker from the other day?”

  “Aren’t you?”

  She shrugged. “My nose won’t betray me again. No one will catch me with my guard down after what happened last time.”

  I took her arm. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  “And I you. Even if your fashion style is seriously damaged.”

  I gave her a friendly slap and almost forgot about being scared of what might hide in the dark. If Jen said her nose would protect us, I believed her. We continued to walk briskly forwards while playing our new favourite game, Breaking Mag, in which we tried to guess which celebrities were Mags and what powers they had. There weren’t really any winners because none of us knew the real truth, but it was fun to pretend.

  There were a lot more of us in the world than people knew about, although some bloodlines had become washed out to the point where someone with Mags in their lineage wasn’t guaranteed to gain any powers at all. According to Mum, my grandad was convinced that the whole Magical community had been weakened by mixing with humans, and it was hard to disagree. I should know, being the product of a mixed marriage myself.

  The main difference between my estranged grandad’s view and mine was that I preferred to look at it as evolution. Mags and humans shared everything but the magic, and maybe that was more important in the long run. Evolution brings us closer, which I happened to think was good, as opposed to the views of Jarl Colburn and his followers.

  As I was
contemplating Jen’s latest suggestion, Lady Gaga, whom she meant was too good to be one hundred per cent human, she halted in front of the entrance to the park. Her arm was wrapped around mine so tightly that I was forced to stop too.

  “Ready?” she asked.

  “Not at all,” I admitted as I took in the darkness beyond the fence. “So, let’s go inside.”

  Jen nodded, and we stepped into the park. How on earth were we supposed to find Paddock in here? There were a few lights on the path, but otherwise, the rest was firmly in the shadows.

  Something flashed between the trees to my right. It disappeared, then flashed again. It seemed deliberate, almost like a signal.

  “Morse code,” Jen said. “That’s him.”

  “What? How do you know?”

  “I know Morse code.”

  I raised my eyebrows at her. Most people wouldn’t have been able to tell in the dark, but her wolf sight would get the message clearly enough.

  She snickered. “Of course I don’t know Morse code. I smell him, is all.”

  That, on the other hand, I believed.

  We made our way across the grass, shuffling through the leaves. The wind was more gracious between the large oaks in the park, taking the edge off the cold underneath the canopies.

  “Ruby Morgan?” a voice whispered.

  “I’m here.”

  “Good.” Paddock moved out from behind a trunk, flashlight in hand, though the light was off. “Come.”

  We followed him into a thicket of trees and bushes, and I hoped I wasn’t about to ruin Jen’s expensive clothes on all the branches clawing at me. The leather turned out to be quite efficient, however, as the branches never pierced the clothes or got stuck in them. Anything from my own wardrobe would have been fit to throw out after this walk.

  Paddock stopped abruptly, then turned back to us. He turned the flashlight on, and though he pointed it downwards, it lit up the features of his face and made him look like something out of my worst nightmares. His jawline was sheathed in darkness, his cheekbones white against the light. He wore a cap, but the beam from the flashlight made his eyes look gaunt.