“My, my, what a cleaver bitch your sister is. She has effectively blocked anyone from tampering with her little spell.”
“P…please stop. I…it hurts,” Nimue groaned, her voice broken as she lifted her bloodshot eyes to meet his, silently imploring him for mercy.
“How the mighty have fallen, eh, Nimue?” He chuckled, letting his magic retreat as he stood over her.
“What do you want with me?” she asked in a small voice.
He brushed imaginary lint off the cuff of his cream-colored Italian silk shirt and gave her a disgusted look. Nothing remained of the self-assured woman he knew. Instead, he saw only a puffy eyed wreck before him. It would be so easy to end her miserable existence, and a small part of him found the idea tempting as hell, but the larger part of him, the strategist, knew he needed her in case things went south, and he couldn’t acquire the witch.
“You, my little bag of flesh, may still be of some use.” He turned his attention to one of his bodyguards standing at the door. “Take her to the oval room, see that she is fed and, by the gods, make sure she bathes, she reeks of the gutter.”
“Wait, what are you going to do with me?” she cried out, scrambling to her feet with effort.
“Whatever I want, you stupid bitch. Now, get her out of my sight.” Vance snarled, turning his back so he didn’t have to look at her any longer. His gaze landed on the large vase sitting on his smoked glass coffee table.
His cell buzzed in his pocket and he pulled it out, ignoring the screams behind him as the guard took Nimue away. “Speak,” he barked into the phone.
“The witch just took a car and left Penner’s property alone. You want us to pick her up?”
A surge of satisfaction coursed through Vance. “No, not yet. Let’s see where she goes. Report back to me every half hour.”
He disconnected the call, a smug smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Things were looking up for him and now with both Nimue and the witch within arm’s reach, he wanted to know what Arthur’s next move would be.
When he picked up his witch, he wanted Arthur to know that he, Vance Hollister, was the one who held her life in his hands. The thought of forcing his nemesis to watch as he destroyed the witch made him positively giddy.
Arthur would lose the battle and his reincarnated queen with one slash of his blade and bring Morgan le Fey back to this world to rule by his side.
Life couldn’t get any better than this.
* * * *
Life Sucked.
Or that is exactly how it felt to Arthur as things went from bad to catastrophic in less time it took to blink. How could a female go from soft and complacent one moment, then a spitting tempest of fury the next? Perplexed and feeling way out of his depth, he watched as Gwen stormed through the door and down the hallway. The urge for go after her was so strong he actually took a step toward the door, hand reaching for the handle. What could he say to make things better between them?
At a loss on what to do to make amends, he decided retreat was the better part of valor. Concentrating instead on the needs of his men seemed much simpler than dealing with
this
particular woman.
Because yeah, Morgause will be so much easier.
Could the viper truly be here, under his roof? Anger ignited, burning in his bloodstream with the force of a wild fire. Whatever she plotted she would be very surprised at the outcome. He wasn’t the same idealistic youth she would remember. No, betrayals tended to make a man jaded, wary and untrusting. He wouldn’t be an easy mark this time around.
He should have lived his life as a monk, he thought darkly as his long-legged stride ate up the distance between him and Simon’s apartments. At least, women were forbidden in their temples, weren’t they?
By the time he pushed open the door to Simon’s quarters, his mood could only be described as downright fowl. All talk stopped as the attention zeroed in on him. Vivian let out a small gasp and took a step back into Lancelot, whose arms wrapped around her protectively.
He almost smiled his pleasure. Good, he didn’t feel like playing the diplomat, his mental state was much more suited to that of a seasoned warrior ready for battle. Colin raised a questioning eyebrow in Arthur’s direction while pulling Juliet closer to his side by the window and watched Arthur warily.
His friend’s reaction didn’t register as his eyes quickly swept the room and stopped on the tall dark haired, grey eyed woman standing by the far wall. His lip curled back in a snarl.
“What the fuck game are you playing now, Morgause? You’re not welcome here.” Her eyes widened with a mixture of surprise and fear, and a jolt of satisfaction went through him.
“I’m here just to help. I never meant you any harm. If only you would give me the chance to explain—”
“Do I look stupid to you?” Arthur savagely interrupted her, stalking over to her. He got right in her face, his tone filled with ice, “There is only one thing I want from you and that’s to leave my men the fuck alone.”
“I say she stays,” Simon hissed between clenched teeth. Before Arthur could react, strong arms shoved him back. Waves of menace poured off Simon’s big body as he stepped in front of her.
What. The. Hell?
“Watch how you talk to her. I told Colin to call you because of Darius. Rhea is my responsibility.”
Arthur glared at Morgause, no
Rhea
? Whatever she called herself these days a snake still was a snake no matter the skin it wore.
“Since when did I ask for a protector, you big ass,” Rhea rasped out, punching Simon hard on the shoulder as she stepped in front of him. “I’ve been able to stabilize Darius.”
Arthur didn’t let her finish. His gut churned as dread coiled tight in his belly. “What about Darius?” he demanded.
“He’s resting,” Rhea evaded.
“Bullshit!” Arthur snapped, striding toward the bedroom. “I’m checking on him.”
Simon moved to block his way. “He is fine now. He had one of his visions, but with Rhea’s help, he came out of it. He finally dozed off.”
Arthur narrowed his eyes on him, gauging if he spoke the truth or not. Never before did he question one of his men, but the sudden appearance of Rhea and Simon’s apparent protectiveness threw him.
He battled the urge to push Simon clear and see Darius for himself. Taking a deep breath, he focused on calming his pounding heart and clearing his mind. Simon deserved his trust, earned it many times over, and he refused to give into the fury seething through him like toxic sludge.
“What did he see?” Arthur’s voice came out on a rasping growl, the urge to hit something intense. He felt his control slip further. With a hard mental yank on his emotions, he forced his tone to smooth out, injecting a cool level tone he was far from feeling. “His visions have saved our buts in more than a few situations.”
There, calm, controlled and in charge.
Yeah, not even close.
“Then this latest one can be added to his tally since he saw the end of life as we know it.”
“Cut the cryptic shit and just spit it out,” Arthur demanded, his drawl becoming more apparent.
“Your little witch dies at Vance’s hand. Is that clear enough for you?”
Arthur went cold at Rhea’s words. An ache began his chest, taking up residence at the thought of Gwen dying. “He saw this? I need details,” he nearly shouted, holding onto his composure by sheer force of willpower. He wanted to shake the woman until her neck snapped, then grab Gwen and run. Irrational yes, there could be no running. Not from this and even if he did, it would only delay the inevitable conflict between Vance and him.
He found he looked forward to the battle to come.
“He said there was a large arena somewhere inside with stands for spectators. Darius said he saw Gwen tied to a stake with another, Nimue, I think he said. He has the ashes of Morgan le Fay, and he’s determined to bring her back.”
Viviane let out a painful moan, her pale eyes full of horror. “Not my sister, he wouldn’t dare.”
“I won’t let anything happen to her, Lady Viviane. I give you my word,” Lancelot soothed.
“He would dare many things,” Arthur cut in grimly. “Did Darius mention anything else about the area, any landmarks?”
“Only that it looked like one of those places you can eat and watch some kind of medieval fighting. The floor was covered in dirt.” Rhea shook her head and let out an irritated sigh. “Honestly, if there was anything else I would give it to you.”
“Would you? I mean our last meeting was not a picture to put into a family album, unless your family happened to be filled with sociopaths.” He couldn’t help the bitterness lacing his words. The wound sill festered deep in his soul, a caustic acid eating a hole through him. If not for her magic added to her sister Morgan, he would never have fathered Mordred.
“My sister deceived me as well, Arthur. I never meant harm. I believed Morgan’s lies. By the time I realized my spell would be used against you to sire a child it was too late.”
Rhea’s gaze darkened with so much pain Arthur could no longer look at her. Regret seeped into the very morrow of his bones. Could he have been so wrong? It dawned on him in that moment. He never gave her the opportunity to tell her side of things. In fact, he refused to speak to her again after Morgan announced her pregnancy. The glamor to resemble Gwen worked to perfection. His seed had taken root within a monster. It seemed they both were caught in the machinations of Morgan and her hunger for power and the throne.
“I’m sorry, that was…unnecessary.” The apology came out on a rasp, as if he swallowed a mouthful of sand.
“I will do
anything
it takes to keep my sister from being brought back. I am here to right the wrong she did to
both
of us, Arthur. You can trust me to guard your back and your men as well.” Rhea lifted her chin, determination glittering in the storm-tossed depths of her gaze. “Just give me a chance, please.”
Arthur frowned at her. “Am I that implacable?” A chorus of yeses sounded throughout the room.
Nice.
“Fine, but I am not unreasonable,” he grumbled.
“Well, um…there are some things that you refuse to listen to,” Viviane ventured.
Arthur arched one brow at the goddess. “And what
things
would those be?”
“Me, for one,” Rhea chimed in.
“The jury is still debating about you,” Arthur snapped, his tone thick with warning.
“And then there’s Gwen,” Vivian interjected. The air grew heavy in the small room as the tension built.
“Look, I was a real bitch before…and I owe her an apology for my behavior. We all do. Lancelot gave me a better perspective and well…we were wrong to judge her.”
“You’re kidding me, right?” Arthur growled, stalking over to tower over Viviane, his body tense with anger. “Just like that all is forgiven? She helped to end Camelot!” His voice rose to a shout.
Lancelot moved Viviane behind him in a protective move not lost on Arthur. “Calm down and think. There were many things eating away at your idea of a perfect utopia. Wars, the fighting and plots within your circle of knights, you can’t blame everything on Gwen. Besides, what did you expect?”
Arthur’s head snapped back as if slapped, shock registering in his dark eyes. “I expected
loyalty
gods dammit!”
“Then you should have been there for her,” Lancelot shouted back, his face flushed with anger. He glared at Arthur, his words lashing out to whip. “You never had the time for her, always the men, your responsibilities came first. You ignored her and after years of isolation, she found me.”
Arthur snarled, feeling heat scald his veins at the memory Lancelot dredged up and with it, the pain and bewilderment of their betrayal. “I had a country to run, what did you expect me to do, disregard my duties? Don’t you think I would have loved to spend all my time with
my
wife? I didn’t have that type of luxury then, and I sure as hell don’t have it now.”
“Then you don’t deserve her and never did.”
The room turned deadly silent as the two men faced off. The air crackled with the threat of violence.
“Can the two of you keep it down? Your yelling is enough to wake the dead.” Darius’s voice, thin and weak, broke the tension as both men whirled around to face him.
Rhea and Simon both went to Darius, who leaned weakly against the doorframe, his face waxen, long hair falling in tangled disarray down his back. He looked at Arthur, speculation gleaming in his dark gaze.
“Arthur, you know better than anyone you have tunnel vision when it comes to your work. Then and now, I’ve never seen you relax even once in all the time I’ve known you,” Darius gently scolded.
“How do you feel?” Arthur asked, concern worming its way into his gut at the dark circles underneath his friend’s eyes.
Darius’s mouth twisted into a bitter smile. “Seen better days, but thanks to Rhea here I think things are going to improve drastically.” His gaze met Simon’s in a pointed look, who grinned back.
Arthur ground his molars at the undercurrents running rampant through the room. First, Lancelot’s protectiveness of Viviane and now this…no, he didn’t even want to touch on it and besides, the three were entitled to live however they wanted to. He only wished them happiness.