Rise of the Fey (16 page)

“What are you doing?” he asks with a note of derision in his voice.

“Uh…getting ready for takeoff?”

“The car’s over there,” Arthur says, pointing south towards the hospital. “We thought that would be a more discrete way of traveling.”

I feel myself turn a bright, traffic light red and hasten down the snowy path after Arthur who, most annoyingly, can’t seem to stop laughing.

Moments later, we’re heading down County Highway Y, heat blasting through the car’s vents, the rolling clouds overhead so low they look like they’re going to suck us right in. As we turn onto US 41, I catch myself thinking about what’s waiting for us up north, and who.

I fidget about my seat, rubbing my hands together nervously. What if my fire-generating ability won’t be enough to take that Shade down? What if I can’t even make the fire happen at all?

Fear squeezes my insides, gnawing all my courage away.

I close my eyes against a sudden, mounting nausea, but all I can see is Agnès’s eyes bulging in her black, swollen face.

“Having second thoughts?” Arthur asks. “’Cause I can always pull over and drop you off.”

“No,” I say, forcing my hands to lay flat on my knees.

I can’t chicken out now. I need to focus on my father, on the happy family life I would have had with him if he hadn’t been stolen away from me, not on the fact that in a few minutes I may be facing my own, very probable, and most definitely gruesome death.

I look at Arthur’s sharp profile, gauging his mood.

“Can I ask you a question?” I say.

He throws me a quick glance, his face taught with worry. “What is it?” he asks.

“Can you tell me more about my parents?” I ask, trying to push my anxiety to the back of my mind.

“I really don’t know much about them,” he says readily.

Too readily, like he’s rehearsed. I cross my arms over my chest. “You’ve been told to tell me that, haven’t you?”

Arthur’s cheek twitches as he clenches his jaw. “No, Morgan,” he says. “I can understand that you don’t trust me, but I’m done.”

“Done with what? Me?”

“With lying to you,” he says.

I let out a fat, moist snort. “Let’s pretend I believe you. What is it you do know then? Apart from the fact that Gorlois—my dad—got excommunicated for stealing that sword?”

“He was a great knight,” Arthur says, his brow creasing as he concentrates on the road. “One of the best we’d seen in ages, and very forward thinking. Too forward-thinking, in fact. People thought he’d lost his mind after his first disappearance. Had him tested and all.”

“What do you mean?” I ask.

For a moment, Arthur doesn’t respond and I fear his moment of truth has burned out. “He wanted us to form an alliance with the Fey,” he says at last. “And, well, you know what we do with people who’ve had unusual Fey encounters….”

I nod glumly—they’re locked up in an asylum. A lump forms in my throat as I recall the Spartan building before it got burned down, its inhabitants speaking nonsense if they weren’t foaming at the mouth. And I can’t bring myself to imagine my own father among them, the same glazed look Owen had in his eyes.

“So he took Excalibur with him and fled,” Arthur continues. “He didn’t show up again—”

“—until a year later, with me in his arms,” I finish for him.

Arthur nods. “He was already dying from the black-vein poison. There was nothing anyone could do.”

I let out a long, shuddering sigh.

“You think he’s going to be there?” I ask after we’ve driven for a while in silence.

“Who?”

“The one who killed my father.”

Arthur shrugs. “I doubt it. He seems like a lone-wolf type of Fey, and our messengers reported that there was a much greater number of them than usual.”

I lean back in my seat, the leather creaking under me, unsure whether to feel relieved or disappointed. This would have been the perfect opportunity to get my hands on that Shade. Especially since I doubt Arthur will give in as easily to my pleas the next time I ask to accompany him in battle.

The sign for Oak Ridge Drive crawls past my window when a thought strikes me. “Now that I think about it,” I say, “you were awfully quick at letting me join the fight this time around. You’re not planning on using me as bait, are you? Hope Carman’s going to show up because she wants me dead?”

“What are you babbling on about?” Arthur asks, his tone of voice rising to match mine. “You’re the one who insisted on coming with me. Now you’re blaming me for it?”

“You just played another one of your mind tricks on me!” I exclaim, jabbing at his arm. “You knew how I would react, you did one of those…reverse psychology numbers on me.”

Arthur throws me a disgusted look. “Please, I don’t need to work anything on you, you’re dumb enough to get yourself into trouble without any help.”

“Ha! So you do admit that you’re taking me towards trouble?”

“It’s a battle, Morgan, of course there’s trouble! What did you think this was going to be? A ride down lover’s lane?”

I open my mouth to shout a reply when the meaning of his words hits the two of us and we both look away. Before we can come up with something to fill the awkward silence, headlights flood our car from behind in rapid bursts then we hear the blaring sound of a horn.

We both look over as a car whizzes by us, the driver flipping us off.

“What was that all about?” I ask, glad for the diversion.

“Probably a drunk,” Arthur says.

But when another car barrels past us honking like a madman, I get suspicious. I lean over to stare at the dashboard.

“Arthur, you’re going thirty in a fifty-five zone!” I exclaim. “I thought this was an emergency?”

“It is,” Arthur says, “but ever since Carman’s return, things haven’t been quite as safe around here, and the government’s instated a curfew. I don’t want to draw their attention on a couple of teenagers, especially considering what we’re up to. Besides, they shouldn’t be driving that fast in all this snow, especially not with that storm brewing.”

“Well, couldn’t we just, you know, pfft?” I ask, mimicking us taking off.

“In front of laymen, and with all those radars around?” Arthur asks. “Are you crazy?”

“Yeah, I’m crazy all right,” I retort with a huff. “It’s genetic, so sue me.”

But as we near the exit to our rendezvous point, the scene that greets us ahead erases our petty squabble away.

“Percy’s already at the site with the others,” Lance says the moment we get out of the car, the sky lit up in flaming golds and reds above him, the acrid smell of smoke thick in the air. “We’ve also already had to send a number of wounded knights back down for urgent care.”

Arthur nods but Lance’s his unblinking gaze remains fixed upon him.

“What’s the matter?” Arthur asks as we trudge up the path towards the rest of the group clustered at the edge of the park.

In answer, Keva holds up a heavy shirt before her, its metallic threads glinting. “Percy’s,” she whispers with a mix of awe and concern.

“He’s getting reckless,” Arthur says with a frown, and I realize that must be Percy’s battle shirt.

“We’re going to have to be careful around him,” Hadrian says, “just in case.”

“We’ll give him a wide berth, at all times,” Arthur states, and the other knights nod, their features strained.

“He went into the fight, in the middle of winter, half-naked?” I ask Keva. “Is he nuts?”

“And so very sexy,” Keva breathes. “Did you know he had this awesome lightning tattoo on his back?”

“It’s not a tattoo,” I say through gritted teeth as his battle against the banshee flashes before my eyes.

There’s a loud explosion and the ground shakes, dislodging snow from the top of the trees, and sending a pack of crows flying off, cawing in distress.

“What was that?” I ask, my breath fogging the air.

“Bridge just collapsed,” Hadrian says, looking over the leafless trees at the blazing fire beyond.

Sirens sound off in the distance, drawing closer.

“Crap,” Hadrian mutters. “I thought Safir had taken care of the locals.”

Another gust of hot, dry air makes me cringe backwards.

“Holy smokes,” I whisper.

“You can say that again,” Keva says with a pout. “I’m not surprised Safir wasn’t able to cover the attack entirely—not when half the county looks like it’s burning down.”

Her small face lights up as we watch the fire blaze higher through the leafless trees, spreading along the train tracks. A nervous tension courses down my spine as several fire trucks
and police cars appear, their emergency lights blinking fretfully around the crackling flames before they get swallowed up by the dark clouds of smoke.

A few seconds later, we hear gunshots go off like series of firecrackers, before they suddenly die out too.

“Let’s get going!” Lance shouts, waving for the knights to spread out.

At his command, they all bound forward, their dark uniforms quickly blending into the trees.

“You stay here,” Arthur tells me. “Daniel will keep an eye on you.”

Daniel’s face turns ghostly white. “But I’m a knight, I’m supposed to fight out there with you!” he exclaims.

“You’re a knight and you’re meant to protect the weaker,” Arthur retorts, before handing me his long dagger.

“What’s this for?” I ask, suddenly afraid to touch the weapon.

“Hopefully you won’t need it,” Arthur says, forcing my trembling fingers to close around the proffered dagger. “And get back inside the car if you’re starting to feel off, OK?”

I remain mute, unwilling to make him any promise I may not hold.

“You heard me,” Arthur growls in warning. “If you’re feeling peaky, you get inside. And that’s an order!”

“Overprotective much?” Keva says with a smirk as Arthur disappears after the others.

“It’s nothing like that,” I say, annoyed. “I just had…an accident on the way over.”

“An accident?” Keva asks, her eyes going round with surprise. “What? Like you peed yourself?”

Daniel chortles. “Aww, did Morgan get too scared because of a widdle fight?” he says as if speaking to a baby. “Just don’t get near me. Don’t want to start smelling like cat piss.”

“No one would notice over your smell of cowardice,” Keva retorts.

Daniel’s mirth drains out of his face and he throws me an evil glare. “It’s all her fault,” he snarls. “My first mission, and I’m forced to babysit! Even the other squires are out there fighting. What will I tell the Lady Jennifer when she asks me what I’ve accomplished?”

“Oh, shut it, Daniel,” I say. “Can’t you even tell she doesn’t care an inch for you? You’re just another toy for her.”

“So not true,” Daniel says. “The Lady Jennifer’s an angel.”

I look quickly away before he can see me roll my eyes. How can so many people be blind to what Jennifer’s truly like? Then again, sociopaths are amazing manipulators….

Keva ignores Daniel entirely, apparently still not done with me. “So about that accident,” she says.

I push my hair out of my face as another gust of wind whips around us, fanning the bridge’s flames higher. Dark smoke billows out, merging with the threatening cloud cover; it won’t be much longer before the snow storm hits.

“I, uh, sorta blacked out,” I finally say, avoiding Keva’s inquisitive eyes.

“Again?” she asks. “Seems to be your specialty. What happened this time? Another attack?”

I shake my head. “Not even,” I say, embarrassed. “It was weird. I thought I was…somewhere else. And there were these people doing tests on me, or something. And then”—I drop my voice—“I heard him.”

“Him who?” Keva asks.

“My guardian angel,” I whisper, glancing over at Daniel to make sure he isn’t listening—if people got wind of my daily talks with my inner voice, they’d for sure have me locked up like they did my father.

I freeze.

“What now?” Keva asks.

“I-I can’t hear him anymore,” I whisper.

How could I not have noticed this sooner? Apart from my weird dream, I haven’t heard from my guardian angel since…I close my eyes as I dig through my memories…since Irene locked me up in her house before the fight.

“Can’t hear who?” Keva asks, getting impatient.

“My guardian angel!” I say. “Who else?”

Keva bursts out laughing, doubling over, and Daniel casts us a suspicious look.

“That’s not funny,” I say.

“I beg to differ,” Keva says, wiping tears from her eyes. “I hate to break it to you, but not having auditory hallucinations is actually a good sign.”

I scowl at her. “I knew you wouldn’t understand,” I say, both angry at her for her lack of concern, and at myself for not noticing his absence sooner.

I start pacing, the snow crunching under my every step, as I try to trace back what happened for me to lose who had once been my best and, for most of my life, my only friend. It must have happened during the battle with Carman, I finally conclude.

“St. George’s balls,” I mutter as understanding finally hits me. “The seal!”

When the seal dissolved, freeing my Fey side, it must also have gotten rid of my guardian angel.

I drop into a crouch with a low moan, feeling sick at what this implies: Not only was my guardian angel a figment of my imagination, as I often told myself, but he was a bloody side effect of what the Board did to me to contain my true nature.