I scoffed. "She claims I have yours."
A subtle grin curled his mouth. "Perhaps a bit of both."
Part of me wanted to hug the man; another warned me to keep my distance. He made the choice for me. Closing the space between us, his huge arms wrapped around me, strong, yet incredibly gentle. Then, he stepped back and took the sword from my hand.
"Ah, Aeneas, my old friend. Still causing trouble, I see."
Speechless, all I could do is watch as he eyed the weapon with longing eyes. The metal seemed to shine in Father's presence as if his energy restored its luster. The longer he held it, the brighter the gold inlay shined. The blade glowed white as silver and the leather hilt no longer sported cracks and the dullness of aging.
Father wielded it around a few times as if going through a kata. I watched in fascination at the fluidity of his movements, the balance he demonstrated, and the ease with which he held the weapon as if it were an extension of his arm. The entire set of movements was nothing short of magic in motion. The pride of carrying his blood had been restored to a level I could never imagine.
He glanced over at me and smiled. "You look like a lad in a sweet shop, his palm heavy with coin."
"I had dreamed of this moment for many years, never imagining it would be so …."
"Real?"
"I thought I would never see you. Mother claims to feel your presence, but I always thought it was her will to do so, nothing more."
"Yet you found purpose to find my sword?"
"I needed it to make the connection."
His movements stopped. Aeneas rested tip down in the soft earth. "The connection?"
"To you."
"Dear boy, you've always had a connection to me. All you needed was to call my name. I was there at your birth and continued to be so throughout your life. I saw your first kiss. I gave you the gift of alchemy in your dreams. I stood by you through your triumphs and trials. When Khalen disciplined you, I felt the energy singe my heart and numb my limbs."
Scoffing, I said, "I'm surprised you can still stand, then."
"Aye, ye do seem to spark his dark side." He lifted the sword again, looking at it as if embedding its luster and magnificence into his eternal memory. He then presented the weapon to me.
"Take Aeneas and destroy it. In the wrong hands, the amplifying power it wields will lead to destruction. Imagine a weapon that could manifest your worst nightmares with a single thought."
I couldn't fathom such a power, not in my darkest dreams. "We must return it to William or—"
"I am aware of the situation. Do as I say, Connor. William's necromancer will turn Aeneas into something it wasn't meant to be. The results will be devastating."
In a flash, he was gone. Aeneas retained its luster. The thought of destroying something so beautiful, something so close to my father, made me want to scream over the injustice. I wanted a tangible part of him to hold and use. I sank to the ground on my knees, Aeneas clutched in my hands as if it were sand that would slip from my grip should I clench too tightly.
In my mind, I heard my father speak the words of The Emerald Tablet, a passage my mother insisted I memorize though I never knew why:
What is below is like that which is above, and what is above is similar to that which is below to accomplish the wonders of the one thing.
I continued to hear the words flow through my mind, until the end, when my father added, "Make it so, my son. As above, so below."
Aeneas fell from my hands, scattering the rich earth in its wake. I found myself staring at the weapon, taking in its every detail, its composition, weight, and dimension. Alchemical symbols swirled around in my mind's eye, solidifying into a code that could replicate Aeneas to its final chemical compound.
My father's crest blazoned itself as bright yellow gold: two dragons encircling the sun. Keeping that image in mind, I began changing the sword, turning it into a culmination of heaven and earth, solid and subtle, a piece forged with fire, cooled with water, lightened with air, and strengthened with metal. The result was a medallion in the shape of my father's crest. For the cord, I transformed the hilt to a leather braid bearing the strength of a centurion tree. As I looped the talisman over my neck, I marveled at its lightness. No metal on earth would equal its luster or strength. The amulet resembled white gold with bright yellow gold inlay depicting the alchemical symbols for Aeneas. It felt warm against my skin and filled me with purpose.
I stood and journeyed back to the camp, my mind formulating ideas as if they were a story unfolding. If the Shadows wanted a magic sword, they would have one.
Chapter 6
London was a desert of stone and concrete compared to the Northwest. Heavy fog clouded the morning sun as the three of us wandered through Trafalgar Square.
"Why must we purchase a sword when there are many we can steal?" asked Malai.
"We have money," said Gabrihen. "There is no need for us to steal anything."
Malai rolled her eyes, scrambling to keep pace with our long strides.
"Does your father know you steal?" I asked her.
Her shoulders dipped forward as if supporting a heavy sack of grain. "He does not approve."
"Then why do it?"
"I ran out of money."
"That doesn't make it right," said Gabrihen.
"Do not judge me, wizard."
"I'm just saying."
"Leave it be," I told him. "She did what she had to."
"Now you're taking her side?"
"Can you focus your mind on more important matters, like finding a bloody sword?"
"If you were able to change a sword into a medallion, could you not change any object into a sword?" asked Malai.
"Yes, I could, but it would lack the essence of a true weapon—something William will sense. I need to construct a replica that would fool even his necromancer. That will take some time."
"We don't have much of it to spare, my friend," said Gabrihen.
Malai gestured to a local cutlery shop. "Look, over there."
"I'm not looking for a steak knife, Malai."
Grabbing my hand, she quickened her pace toward the shop. The door chimed as we stepped inside. Display cases lined the perimeters while medieval weapons of every kind littered the walls.
An old bald man stepped from a back room, polishing a piece of metal. "May I help you?" His kind eyes and voice warmed the room with inviting peace.
"I'm looking for a sword," I said. "One with … particular qualities."
The old man's sky-blue eyes sparkled a bit. "What kind of particulars?"
"I'm looking for a Spartan sword."
His white brows arched and then collapsed as he searched his mental catalog, which must have been quite extensive given the amount of time he pondered the subject. "A Leonidas, perhaps?"
"Yes, that would be perfect."
"I don' have one here, but my brother may have something in his shop. Would you like me to call him?"
"Please."
The old man stepped into the back room. Moments later, he began speaking in a hushed voice. His words were incomprehensible. Malai perused the display cases as if scoping her next hit, while Gabrihen eyed the daggers embellished with gold and jewels.
I leaned over his shoulder. "A bit gaudy for your taste, don't you think?"
"What is this crap?"
"Shh," Malai hissed, jabbing her finger toward the man in the back room.
Gabrihen shrugged and shook his head. "She's wound a bit tight today."
"Can you blame her? We're about to hand her to William on a silver platter along with a fake magical sword. What's not to be uptight about?"
Gabrihen shifted his eyes toward her. "She has a penchant for stealing."
I followed his gaze to see her slip a small dagger up her shirt sleeve, slick as a snake in the grass. Grabbing her from behind, and trapping her arms, I whispered, "Put it back."
She let the dagger's hilt slide down into her palm. When I released her arms, sh
e placed the dagger back onto the display rack. I grabbed her hand and pulled her in toward me. "If you want that piece of junk, all you have to do is ask."
Her gaze wandered toward a prettier dagger with gold inlay on the blade and a white-pearled handle.
The old man tore a piece of paper from its pad and stepped up to the counter. "My brother's name is Daniel. His shop is in Lambeth, across the Thames. He has a seventeenth century Leonidas, but it's rather expensive."
I took the slip of paper from his hands. "Thank you." I gestured to the display on the far wall. "I'd like to purchase that pearl-handled dagger from you."
The old man waddled around the perimeter as he took a ring of keys from his pocket and fingered through them. Malai's eyes sparkled as he jiggled the lock open and pulled out the dagger. Placing it on a small pillow, he pushed it toward me. Malai watched, open-mouthed like a child about to receive a new toy.
"That's the one," I told the old man.
He locked the display case, then carried the dagger to the back of the room. With a fine cloth, he polished the handle and blade before placing it in a burl wood box lined in red velvet. "That'll be 180 pounds, please."
What are ye doing? Gabrihen asked me telepathically so Malai would not hear.
Khalen had given us credit cards for Europe and South America because we frequented those places. I had intended to use my own money to purchase Father's sword, but seeing the Brits would not accept American cash, I had no choice but to use the credit card. I handed the card to the old man before answering Gabrihen.
I'll pay your father back.
That's not what I'm talking about.
What harm will it bring?
We're giving her back to William, remember? It's not likely he'll let her keep the thing.
I signed the receipt and gave Gabrihen a good hard look as I handed Malai the dagger.
We both know that can't happen, I told him in thought.
We approached William's mansion in London. The place resembled an eighteenth century Transylvanian dungeon with its yellowed stone walls and brick-red roof. There were so many curves to the place, I wondered whether it had a single straight wall. William was expecting us. To explain why we had killed three of his men and interrupted Shadow business, I had to come up with something plausible. The female had taken something of ours and we wanted it back. It wasn't exactly a lie.
Gabrihen parked the rental car at the end of the circular drive. No doubt, William already knew who we were and our relationship to Khalen. The Shadow was a powerful leader, after all, and he did his homework. Still, Gabrihen thought it best to drive to the mansion in lieu of transporting us there.
Malai stared up at the huge fortress, eyes wide and her skin looking several shades paler. I nudged her shoulder and signed, "You'll be all right."
With hesitation, she opened her door and stepped out of the car. I grabbed the sword from the back and moved to her side. On its own volition, my arm wrapped around her shoulder, protectively. My heart warmed as she pressed in against me, taking the feeble comfort I offered. The subtlety didn't escape Gabrihen's notice. His eyes narrowed.
As we approached the towering front doors, they swung open, revealing a slight old man in black livery. His smile disclosed a set of perfect teeth as he asked, "May I help you?"
Holding status over my own, Gabrihen answered, "We have an appointment to see William."
The old man studied Malai and the object in my hand for a moment before stepping aside and gesturing us to enter. He then led us through the massive foyer to a room on the right. "Please, make yourselves comfortable. I'll let Master William know you are here."
When he left, the hum in the room increased. William had established wards to ensure we stayed in the room. Given the place had a well-stocked bar, comfortable couches and chairs, there was really no need to wander. I made my way behind the bar and proceeded to pour myself a much-needed drink—gin, straight up.
"Really?" Gabrihen asked.
Perusing the fine collection of spirits, I found one that appealed to me; an aged gin that was amber in color. The label was simple: Ransom Gin. I poured a small sample to taste it. The texture was smooth, the finish refined and warm. I poured a good portion of the stuff and then walked it over to where Malai stared out the window.
Standing behind her, my body pressed against hers, I wrapped my arm around her and offered her a sip of my drink. She took the glass and downed an impressive portion. She handed me back the glass, saving me the last two sips.
I downed them before setting the glass down on the windowsill. Wrapping both arms around her, I signed, "More?"
She shook her head and leaned back against me.
Behind me, I heard Gabrihen mutter something and then the sound of a drink being poured.
"I'm scared," Malai signed.
I turned her to face me. Removing the pendant from my neck, I gripped it in my hand. "I want you to have this," I told her. "It will keep you safe."
She shook her head and stilled my hand. "No," she signed. "I cannot take this."
I lowered the cord over her head.
With a sad smile, she tucked the pendant into her shirt where it rested against her skin.
A slow, melodic clap sounded at the doorway. We turned to find a formidable figure standing there. William carried the stature of a leader, right down to his polished shoes. He stood there now as if he owned the world and the people residing within it—a silver-haired son of the fallen with glowing green eyes and masculine features that would lure the most hesitant female.
I never understood why Shadows were the most beautiful people. I supposed they needed something to attract others, seeing their hearts were black as coal and ugly as yesterday's meal. What was disturbing and odd was the amount of love they had for themselves—the epitome of narcissism.
"You must be Connor," he drawled, his thick British accent like honey on a cold winter morning. "Seems as if you fancy the young female I intend to mate."
The growl that emanated from deep in my chest felt foreign and feral.
Don't do it, Gabrihen warned in thought.
William smiled as if hearing the thought. Seeing how powerful he was, he was no doubt like Khalen in that respect and could hear the thoughts of others even when they were blocked. "Heed your friend's warning, young man, or she will pay the consequences."
With a thought, he lifted the sword I had looped over my shoulder, the leather strap releasing as if it had been sliced away. With tender grace, he removed the weapon from the leather sheath I had conjured and aged. The Aeneas lookalike was brilliant, shining like the golden wings of an Archangel. William turned it this way and that, inspecting every detail.
Then, his eyes fixed on Malai. "Come to me," he commanded.
When Malai moved to obey, I held her back. The insolent act was reprimanded with an electric bind, dropping me to the thick rug that covered the marble floor.
Malai's thin black brows scrunched together as if feeling my pain. We both knew my reaction toward her was absurd. We were from opposite sides of the world both physically and spiritually. She was a Shadow. I was not. Khalen would never approve such a union.
William ceased Malai's arm so fiercely that she winced in pain. At that moment, I wanted to turn his sword to a pool of acid and melt the bastard where he stood. Unfortunately, the man had a death grip on Malai and I would be dead before I could see William meet his end. Gabrihen would poof away, and Khalen would be faced with another Shadow uprising. All-in-all, the chivalrous act would be for nothing.
Gabrihen sipped his brandy as if this were a simple business transaction. "Her father—you promised to release him."
"That I did." His emerald eyes glowed with golden hues. "This exchange settles our dispute. Simon will see you and your friend out. What I have promised will be waiting for you outside."
Malai did not meet my gaze as William escorted her from the room.
Chapter 7
Teku was a small
man, much like his daughter. He stood a little over five feet tall and weighed just over 100 pounds. He didn't say much as he settled into the backseat of the car. His eyes focused forward on nothing particular, and his hands rested calm and still on his lap.
I turned around to face him. "I'm Connor, and this is my friend, Gabrihen."
"I know who you are, young man." His voice was polished like an elder's, though he looked too young to claim that title.
He chuckled for no reason at all. "I'm over 200 years old."
The man had skills. To tap someone's mind without notice was something only elders and seasoned leaders could do. As an elder, he should have been able to defeat William with unprecedented ease. Why then had he remained captive?
His dark eyes settled on me. "Can you take me to Brixton? My home is just off Coldharbour Lane."
"Are you not concerned about your daughter?"
"Should I be?"
Lord, he was serious. "William intends to claim her," I told him.
"This is not our concern," Gabrihen interjected. "Let it go, Connor."
I turned in my chair to face the old man more squarely. "I don't intend to let that happen."
"You have Khalen's backing in this matter?" Teku asked, cool as a man who had just returned from a brisk morning walk.
"Of course not, but that's not going to stop me."
"Christ!" Gabrihen muttered, shaking his head.
"You plan to take William down on your own?" Teku asked.
He had a good argument. William's power stretched far beyond London and the surrounding cities. To challenge him meant starting a war between our clans, something Khalen would never condone.
"I can't just leave her there."
"You can and you will," said Gabrihen.
When the car came to a stop, I opened the door and stepped out, slamming the door behind me.
Gabrihen rolled down the window. "Get in the car, Connor."
I started walking back to the mansion.
With a slur of curses, Gabrihen whipped the car around and parked it. I heard the door slam and his heavy footfall as he marched toward me.
Like a whip, his hand gripped my shoulder and spun me around. I grabbed his hand, twisted it, and flipped him onto the grass. He clipped me with his feet and I flew headlong beside him. Taking advantage of my temporary stupor, he pounced upon me and tried pinning me down.