Sentries of Camelot (Ruby Morgan Book 2)

by LJ Rivers

  “Chill, Morien,” the gangly man said. His voice was as forgettable as the rest of him.

  “Mordred,” the other man replied in a clipped tone. “Blimey, Ulfius. I’m Mordred, Pete is Morien.” He glanced at me and slapped himself on the forehead.

  Ulfius threw his hands up in an apology. “I get the damned names mixed up. Sorry, Mori—Mordred.”

  Mordred leaned his bulky arms on the doors, his brawny body blocking out most of the light beam. In the dim glow from the bulb inside the van, I could barely make out his features. His bald scalp was covered in scars, the tip of his nose bridged inward. Every part of him looked hard and tight.

  “Who is the boy?” he said.

  A third man came up behind Mordred. “A loose end.”

  I recognised the voice from the cinema. He was one of the men who had caught me. Ulfius, or whatever his real name was, had to be the other.

  “Why is he not chained, Lionel?” Mordred snarled, spit forming at the edges of his mouth.

  “He’s not a Mag, sir.” Ulfius brought some kind of weapon up in one hand while releasing Nick’s ropes from the wall, then proceeded to drag Nick outside. It took me a moment to piece together what the weapon was. I had seen it before, at the skatepark. The kind of advanced stun gun the coppers had used on the kids.

  The third man, Lionel, jumped into the van. His bald scalp glistened with sweat, and a few stubbles were visible above his ears. He probably shaved it all to conceal his receding hairline. Instead of working to his benefit, it accentuated his chipmunk cheeks and large potbelly. An enormous keychain dangled from his belt, the noise rattling in my ears. Unable to fight my fatigue, my eyes slid shut for a moment. Something clicked like a key in a lock before a pair of strong hands clasped around my arms, forcing me up and outside after Nick. The glare of the sun stung my eyes as I opened them again. My knees hit the dirt.

  I shifted my gaze around. Lionel held onto the chains attached to me, but all three men were looking at Nick.

  Mordred spat at the ground, then fished a pack of smokes from his pocket and lit a cigarette. “What do you propose I do with him?”

  “I wanted to whack him, sir,” Ulfius said.

  Mordred slapped Ulfius over the back of his head, then leaned over Nick. “Maybe we should put you down.”

  Nick’s eyes were wild with fear. I wanted to help him, torch the ground and the coppers with it. I looked around for an out. Anything that might give me an advantage. Where on earth were we?

  Hay bales lay on the fields surrounding us. I counted two farmhouses, and one very large barn a short walk away on the top of a hill. Something was off, though. Something was missing. I narrowed my gaze, the wheels in my mind turning furiously to make sense of the place. The pieces clicked together, snapping into place. There were no animals. Not a single cow, sheep or pig. There wasn’t even a rooster or a cat anywhere in sight. On the roof of the barn was a strange-looking weathervane. My eyes sprang wider. I had seen this place before.

  Ulfius grabbed the rope tied to Nick’s hands, tugging it hard. Nick made a disgruntled sound but said nothing. “Want us to shoot him out back behind the barn?”

  Oh, please, no!

  Mordred crossed his arms. He was large, like a contestant in a strongman competition. His stance was calculated, his frame proud. Everything about him screamed ex-military. If only I could reach my magic.

  “No,” he muttered. “No. This is not how we do things. Humans are not part of the deal here. We might have to kill him, but it won’t be my call. I’ll take this matter to Galahad. He’s due for a visit tomorrow.”

  Galahad? I knew that name from somewhere. Wasn’t that a knight?

  Sentries of Camelot, of course!

  They had taken their code names from Arthur’s knights.

  “Take the boy to the main house for now,” Mordred ordered. “I don’t want him inside the Farm.”

  Somehow, when Mordred said farm, I didn’t think he meant it in the way people usually did.

  Ulfius shrugged and walked off, dragging Nick with him. Bound as he was, he crashed to the ground like a load of bricks. Ulfius tugged at the rope, but Nick was bigger than him, athletic and strong.

  “Need a hand there, Ulf?” Lionel offered, handing my chains over to Mordred before taking hold of the ropes with Ulfius. The two of them lugged Nick along up the hill. He cried out in pain this time, squirming and bouncing the whole way.

  Their voices travelled as the sentries spoke between pants.

  “Think she’s a Pure?” Ulfius asked. “I haven’t had a taste of that PureX yet.”

  “We’ll see when we test her.” Lionel’s tone had a mischievous edge to it.

  “If not, we might find a donor among our cattle somewhere. There have to be more Pures out there, and I really want a taste.” Ulfius halted for a moment. “I hear it’s like power central, like the sweetest nectar imaginable. And much more sustainable.” He snickered, and his whole body vibrated, like a kid walking into a sweet shop.

  My chest tightened, my breath catching in my throat as I watched them disappear. Pures. PureX?

  A shadow fell over me, derailing my attention.

  “Now, then, Ruby Morgan.” Mordred’s grey eyes focused entirely on me this time.

  I flinched at the mention of my name. But of course he knew who I was, otherwise he wouldn’t have kidnapped me.

  I saw his face clearly now. The scars didn’t just cover his scalp, they crisscrossed over his temples and cheeks, and cavernous furrows and evidence of a life that had once been spent somewhere much warmer than England showed on his skin. Deep-set brows and a broad chin completed his terrifying features.

  “You’re a hard fish to catch. I sent some of my best officers after you, and you’ve slipped through their fingers more than once.”

  “Why am I here?” I asked. Stupid question, but what else did I have?

  “We’ll see. Once we’ve sorted out your status, we’ll see.”

  “Status?” I said.

  “We usually find our own fish. But you, you’re here on high authority. Makes me wonder—”

  I shivered. Why did someone want me specifically? Had I stuck my head out that far? If this place didn’t kill me, then Mum would. Though her methods would undoubtedly be more merciful than these sorry excuses for Arthurian knights.

  “Depending on our findings, we’ll talk again.” Mordred pushed me, forcing the air from my lungs.

  My eyes closed once more, catapulting me back into darkness.

  Fifteen

  More darkness.

  I coughed against the stale, dry air, then stopped, turning the cough into gently clearing my throat. I was not in the mood to get zapped again. I let out a steady breath of air when nothing happened. My joints ached, and the sound of screeching metal somewhere above tortured my ears.

  I stretched my fingers. The shackles on my wrists were gone. Slowly, I raised my hands, carefully brushing my fingers over the cold, sleek collar still fastened around my neck. My eyes watered, tears threatening to spill out. Panic tore through me, and I wanted nothing more than to run. From wherever this place was. I blinked as the memories began flooding back.

  Nick! Where was Nick? It took me a moment before I remembered the Camelot impersonators dragging him off to only the Lady knew where. He was human. A loose end, Lionel had said. And what did one typically do with loose ends? I shuddered, my heart rate rising. He was going to die. And the only reason he was even here was because of me. I couldn’t help him. I couldn’t even help myself, as it was. But I had to find a way out.

  Muffled voices sounded somewhere in the distance as I peered out at the dimly lit room. The fields were gone, there were no hay bales, no trees. Instead, thick metal bars separated me from a room that looked nothing like any farm I’d ever been to. And I had been to a few farms before, seeing as how there were a lot of them in Cheshire. I had often spent my summers helping out with the horses on a nearby farm in Cheshire. Dad used to love watchi
ng me ride. That was years ago, however, and this was now.

  My heart raced, looking for a way out. I gripped the bars in frustration, my body convulsing from yet another electrical shock, tremors bouncing through my bones, sending me into fits on the floor. Spit trickled from my mouth, and my eyes rolled back.

  I had no idea how long I lay there afterwards. Exhaustion encased me, my fear turning raw and numb. If I could have healed myself, this was the time to do so. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t even reach a tiny spark of power, let alone produce any magic that would help. Not that I could heal myself at full strength either, but if I could only catch my breath and find some string of magic, and tap into the fire that was surely still somewhere inside me, then perhaps I could melt the bars. I could burn this entire excuse for a farm into nothing but cinders. My fear took a backseat as a growing sense of anger twisted inside. I had to control my emotions, or I would never get out.

  And then there was Nick.

  With nothing else to do, my mind ventured into thoughts of revenge. The image of Mordred on fire actually produced a quirk of my lips before I caught myself. What was I thinking? I had to come up with a plan of escape, not worry about revenge. That wasn’t me. Was it? I slid my hands into my pockets, searching for my phone. Empty, of course. The Camelot coppers might be cruel and possibly not among the brightest of the bunch, but of course they had the wits to take my phone.

  My eyes shifted, and I turned my head sideways, not testing my ability to sit yet. A fluorescent light illuminated enough of the room to see shapes, and the amounts of steel and grey colours, which made up the colour-combination of the space. There was a partial second floor constructed of metal grates like some kind of mesh I’d seen in prison films. Two sets of staircases led up to it, maybe ten feet away from me.

  Stifling a scream, I bit my teeth together, my lips tight as my emotions got the better of me, yet again. Cages dotted the floor above to the right. Lots and lots of cages. My stomach revolted, and bile threatened to rise in my throat. A couple of figures moved along the cages. A cage door opened, and a flash of blue light followed. A smaller figure shook and thumped to the floor, out of sight. I averted my gaze. There was nothing I could do. So I did the only thing I could do, kept looking at my surroundings. There were cages on my floor, too, though not as many as above.

  There were metal tables like the ones I’d seen in crime series when the detective visits the morgue. A double metal door, at least twice the size of a normal double door fridge, faced me a couple of feet to my left. I shuddered in horror at the syringes, the multitude of blood bags, the vials, the panels, and a highly advanced array of chemistry equipment, all neatly arranged around the room. I turned away from the sight, the taste of bile now coating my tongue.

  The image of the boiler room where we had found Jen hanging from the ceiling, tubes attached to drain her blood, forced itself into my mind. But the janitor and his accomplice had been sloppy, acting on their own. They were messy and unorganised, whereas this—this was something else entirely. This was calculated and refined in an eerie, screwed up kind of way.

  I looked past the steel bars of my cage and through the bars of a neighbouring cage. If I stuck my arm out, I could probably have touched it, but that would undoubtedly mean blacking out again, and I was not about to do anything rash.

  A pair of wary eyes stared back at me. I had no way of telling their colour in the dingy light, but I would guess a dark hazel. The girl couldn’t be more than thirteen or fourteen. Her raven-black hair was straight, long, and knotted. She had a worn look on her face that did nothing to hide her smooth features, high set cheekbones and her broad button nose, which had recently been running with snot, that had dried above her upper lip. Streaks of tears painted her cheeks, creating thin patterns in the dirt covering her bronze-tinted skin. She met my gaze, a slight tremor on her lips.

  “Hey there,” I croaked, the sound coming out distorted and wrong.

  She didn’t reply, just looked at me with the kind of dread of someone who had stopped fighting and submitted to the terror of her doom.

  “I’m Ruby,” I said. “What’s your name?”

  The girl hugged herself tightly. “Kaede,” she whispered.

  “Cade. With a C?”

  “No, with a K.”

  “Does it mean anything special?”

  “It’s Japanese,” she said. “Means maple.”

  “What a beautiful name.” I drew in a breath, attempting to steady my voice into a more amiable tone. “Nice to meet you, Kaede.” I tried pushing myself up, only to stop the motion as soon as it began. I had to save energy. “Would you happen to know where we are?”

  “They just call it the Farm. I don’t know. I was in Bournemouth one day, the next I found myself in the boot of a car on my way here.”

  Nothing new then. I sighed, then backtracked. I was brought here in a van. Oliver and Kaede were both brought here in the boot of a Vauxhall—or at least that was the make of the car they had brought Ollie in. Why the van, then? And someone had requested that I be brought here, specifically. I blew out a breath of air. Those were questions for later.

  “Have you been here long?” I said in a hushed voice.

  “Not long. A couple of days maybe.” A tear shone in the crook of her eye. “Hard to keep track really, and I was out for a while after they tased me.”

  She was just a kid. What the hell were these guys thinking?

  “All right. It’ll be all right.”

  Her eyes drooped a little. “It won’t. I’ve seen what they do.”

  I didn’t want to push her. At the same time, we were still alive, and as long as we were not dead, we could fight. If only I had my powers. I kept my eyes on Kaede and mused. If she was caged, then surely—

  “Can you do any magic?” I asked.

  Kaede shook her head, and I felt myself sagging under the weight of my own misery.

  “So,” I said, trying to distract the both of us. “When you’re not caged like this, what power do you have?”

  She said nothing.

  “Close your eyes, and let’s pretend we’re on a beach.” I closed my eyes first, then peeked out under half-open lids to find that she had closed hers as well. “Now, listen to the birds and the waves lapping gently. Feel the warmth of the sun on your skin.”

  Kaede raised her chin as if she was stretching for the sun. Good.

  “Want to tell me now, Kaede?” I asked softly.

  “Powers.” Her mouth twitched into a weak smile. “Healing and force fields.”

  “Really?” She had powers like mine.

  “It’s amazing, actually. I get to help people, protect others.” She bit her lip as if she had said something wrong.

  “You’re allowed to be proud,” I said.

  “I’m not supposed to share.”

  “Neither am I, but I won’t tell if you don’t.”

  We talked for a while longer, sharing stories about magic and everyday stuff. It seemed to help Kaede loosen up and take her mind off the pickle we were both in. She kept her eyes closed, but I couldn’t. I had to stay alert. Eventually, however, my eyes refused to listen and closed shut.

  Sixteen

  “In there,” a gravelly voice said, spurring me awake.

  A glass of water and a box of chicken salad stood in the corner of my cage. My lips parted, and I grabbed the glass, chugging down every last drop.

  “Let me go,” a boy shouted.

  “Shut it!” Lionel stood two cages away from me by an open cage.

  “I just want to—” The boy never got to finish his sentence. The crackling noise of electricity made me flinch as if I was the one taking the hit.

  The boy was flung into the cage, the door slammed shut. Lionel searched his keychain until he found a match, and locked the door. My eyes fastened on the keychain. If I could just get out of this cage and get to those keys, then I could find Nick, and we could get the hell out of Dodge. Right. Like that would be a breezy run. As
stupid as it was, it gave me a small piece of hope.

  The newcomer stirred in his cage, his head lifting with obvious effort.

  That face. I had stared into that face so hard these past few days; I had even seen it using my truesight. It was Oliver.

  “I’m sorry, Lionel.” The voice came from Ulfius this time. “It was an accident.”

  Lionel slapped Ulfius with the flat of his hand. Hard, though not hard enough for a knockout. “You dimwit. But keep your mouth shut, and we’ll fix your mess before Mordred finds out.”

  “I didn’t mean to taint the blood. I just wanted to test mind control for a while, but then I got the samples mixed up, and—”

  “Shut your gob, Ulf.”

  Ulfius jumped onto one of the metal tables and held out a syringe. “We got some of his blood now. Fancy testing it?”

  Were they insane? Taking unprocessed Magical blood would kill them. Idiots. Then again, a part of me hoped they were that stupid, and that they both ended up dead on the floor from heart failure.

  “You absolute donkey.” Lionel shook his head wildly, snatching the syringe from Ulfius’ hands. “Not how it’s done. There’s actual processed MagX in the fridge for whenever you want to get a kick. Right now, we’ve got work to do.”

  What in seven ways to Avalon? They were users. Not that it should come as a surprise, since whoever tried to grab me in the park the other day was probably one of these men. I could feel an eye roll coming on as Lionel hauled Ulfius to his feet.

  “Here.” He tucked a panel into Ulfius’ jeans. “For after.”

  The men laughed, stepping away from the cages to walk down the length of the room, and disappeared from view.

  I pushed myself upright, gritting my teeth at the stiffness of my bones, and the searing pain in my back.

  “Ollie,” I whispered.

  He quirked his head up, shifting around to meet my eyes. “How do you know my name?”