Scorched Shadows (The Hellequin Chronicles Book 7)

  “Just play it,” I said.

  The Hellequin character that came on screen sat in the same pose as before and appeared to be the same person. It was hard to tell with the mask and lack of lighting, but he spoke with the same voice as before. “We are the people who will put humanity in its place. We will take this world and make it better, make it in our own image, and all who stand in our way will be killed. To those of you who want to rise up, or disbelieve what we’re saying, you’ll soon see just how much power we have. Human, Avalon, or other, I no longer care. If you stand against us, you are our enemy, and you will be destroyed. My name is Hellequin, and we are Shadow Falls.” He gestured behind him, and several people appeared, all wearing dark clothes with similarly styled masks: black with a white pattern of some kind.

  The video stopped, and I realized I’d been holding my breath. “The prisoner said Shadow Falls. Arthur wanted me to check on Shadow Falls, and now everyone who watched that is going to think any rumors they might have heard are correct. This is bad. This is really bad.”

  “We need to get to Galahad,” Selene said.

  “We need to contact Olivia and find out if she can head this off in Camelot before Arthur decides to declare war on the people living in Shadow Falls,” Lucifer said.

  I stared at the screen, where a man using my name just threatened people I cared about, and felt the rage and hate course through me. I pushed it aside and picked up a phone that was on a nearby desk, then asked the man on the other end to patch me through to Olivia’s number, before placing it on loudspeaker when she answered.

  “Olivia, this fake Hellequin has declared war,” Selene said. “Can you head this off at your end?”

  “I’ll do what I can,” Olivia said. “Won’t be easy, though. I’m starting to hear whispers of people who want to go to Shadow Falls and take it by force. At best, I might be able to convince Arthur to go alone, or give you a few days.”

  “With no concrete proof they were involved?” Zamek asked.

  “Some people have been wanting to annex Shadow Falls for centuries. They just needed a reason to try.”

  “Anything you can do is good,” I said. “Also, we think Mara is out of prison.”

  “I’ll look into it,” Olivia said. “Sounds like I’m being kept out of the loop on a few things. I’ll call back soon.”

  She hung up, and we all waited while a jet was readied to take us to America. Before we were due to board twenty minutes later, Olivia called back. I answered and put it on speaker.

  “I managed to get you two days,” Olivia said. “I pulled a few favors with people who have Arthur’s ear. And Arthur agreed to go to Shadow Falls with only a small contingent of bodyguards. That’s the best I can do. Forty-eight hours, Nate—that’s all we’ve got to figure out this Hellequin’s true identity. After that Arthur is going to turn up, and when Galahad doesn’t play ball, he’s going to declare war on Shadow Falls and we won’t be able to stop it. You know Galahad isn’t going to just stand down and let Avalon troops into Shadow Falls. The east coast of North America is going to become a war zone.

  “On top of that, Hera has walked away from Avalon and locked down London. The human news is calling it a terror drill and a high likelihood of an attack. She’s sorting out her defenses for what’s coming. Oh, and Mara had been transferred to The Hole about six weeks ago. I, of course, was kept out of the loop.”

  “Who ordered the transfer?” I asked.

  “Merlin.”

  “Shit,” I said.

  “Hera won’t be the first to leave and show their true allegiance,” Selene said with more than a little anger.

  “Oh shit,” Olivia said after several seconds of silence. “Oh, no, no, no, no.”

  “What’s happening?” Selene asked.

  “Olivia?” Lucifer said after waiting a short time.

  “There’s been another attack,” Olivia said. “We don’t know all of the details yet, but it looks like multiple magical detonations in North Carolina.” She paused. “Nate, whatever you have to do, get it done soon. A lot more people are about to become casualties.”

  “Keep us informed,” I told her, and hung up. “I know we don’t number a lot, but we have to stop this. Or at least stop Arthur from making a huge mistake.”

  “What if these people are a part of Shadow Falls?” Lucifer asked. “What if Shadow Falls is about to have its own revolt?”

  “Let’s go ask.” I turned to Sky. “We’re going to need some things, if that’s okay?”

  “The jet is almost ready, but I’ll speak to Cerberus. I’m coming with you. Galahad is going to need as many people as possible to convince him not to start a war he can’t win.”

  CHAPTER 15

  Mordred

  Moscow, Russia

  Mordred sat in the back of a van with Polina, Remy, Diana, and Fiona as the rest of the group sat in the back of a similar van in a parking lot around the corner. They were both well placed to watch the front of the nightclub and see who left and arrived. Mostly it was revelers, and with the time now after midnight, the majority of those leaving were a lot worse for wear.

  “Police work sure is boring,” Mordred said. “How about I just walk up to the club and go inside?”

  “They’ll know who you are,” Fiona said. “We went through this.”

  “Doesn’t make it any less dull,” Mordred replied. They’d been watching the club for the better part of two hours, and he was beginning to feel the stress of staying in one place for a long time. “Also, calling your nightclub the Bear’s Pelt seems to be really quite unpleasant to bears.”

  “A werebear used to own it,” Polina said. “Legend has it they kept him in the dungeon for weeks, forcing him to stay in his werebear form.”

  “They skinned him, didn’t they?” Diana asked, her voice a low rumble of anger.

  “That’s the legend, yes,” Polina confirmed. “It’s said that they keep the skin as a rug for an office.”

  “What you’re saying is that the werewolves are bad people,” Mordred said. “I’m going to go say hello.”

  “You are not,” Fiona seethed.

  “Listen, I get you think I’m evil still, but I’m not. I am, however, Mordred. People know me. People occasionally hate and fear me, but more importantly, people know me.” He paused. “I said that already, didn’t I?”

  Diana nodded.

  “Right, well, the point stands. I can go in there, and people are going to freak the fuck out. They might try to kill me, but probably not. Viktor probably told them we were coming.” He turned to Polina. “Your people saw him enter the premises, yes?”

  She nodded. “Alone and with a lot of looking around to ensure he wasn’t followed.”

  “Excellent. He’ll have told them I’m coming, so they’ll be expecting us to storm the place in some covert operation. What they won’t be expecting is me walking into the front with a mic in my ear so I can tell you what’s happening. I’m sure that’s something they’re definitely not going to have planned for.”

  “You’re just going to walk in and tell us what you see?” Polina asked.

  “I like his plan,” Remy said. “It’s ballsy. And fun. And you know that after twenty minutes of being in there, Mordred will have started a fire or a fight. Possibly both.”

  “See, Remy thinks I can do it.”

  “Remy likes to blow things up,” Fiona said.

  “That makes me sound like a very one-note character,” Remy said. “I have other hobbies. Old guns, old swords. The guitar.”

  “Really, the guitar?” Mordred asked.

  “Yeah, I’m really getting used to doing some good solo work on it. I’ll have to play you something.”

  “This is not the time,” Fiona almost shouted before glaring at Remy. “You are not helping.”

  “Oh, I didn’t realize I was meant to be, sorry.”

  Mordred rested a hand on Fiona’s shoulder, removing it when she flinched to get away. “Fiona, I either go in
and get killed, or I go in and help. Both are better than sitting in this cold van until someone makes a decision about what to do.” He turned to Polina. “I know you want us to wait until the club is empty, but I’m sure I can sort that bit out.”

  Polina sighed, opened a small metal box beside her, and passed Mordred a small packet.

  He opened the packet, removing the tiny mic inside, before placing it inside his ear. “So, you can hear me okay?”

  Polina turned to a laptop and opened a piece of software on it. She plugged in a small speaker and activated it, which made a buzzing noise in Mordred’s ear.

  “That okay?” she asked.

  The buzzing noise went away, and Mordred nodded. “I’ll talk to you on the way to the club, and once I’m in I’ll give details of what I see, but don’t come in unless I give you the go order.”

  “You’re going to blow something up, aren’t you?” Diana asked.

  “Now you’ve spoiled the surprise,” Mordred said with a slight smile. “I’m not planning on it, but if that’s my best option, then you’d best expect fireworks. Can you keep the human police away from here?”

  “I’ll be listening for any traffic from them coming our way,” Polina said. “I’ll do what I can to stop them, but try not to blow the whole building up. I’m sure they won’t like that, what with the current worldwide attacks, or the fact that people don’t like it when you blow up a part of their city.”

  Mordred opened the van door and stepped out into the cold night. “I’ll do my best.”

  “That’s what we’re worried about,” Diana said. “Don’t get killed.”

  “Not planning on it.” He shut the van door and set off toward the nightclub, where the line to get in had vanished to nothing, although the two large doormen remained outside. Both were over six feet tall, both were bald, and both had tattoos on their hands and skulls.

  “Hi,” Mordred said and waved.

  The two men exchanged a confused glance, and Mordred guessed that they probably weren’t used to people behaving around them in that manner.

  “I’d like to get in,” he continued, this time in Russian.

  The men looked at Mordred in his jeans and thick, dark-gray coat made for keeping out the cold, but not really made for fashion. They looked down at his black boots, and then back up at Mordred. “Fuck off,” they said in unison.

  “How about this?” Mordred asked, continuing in Russian. “How about, you go tell your bosses that Mordred is out here in the freezing fucking cold, so they can either come out here and let me in, or they can come out here and remove your broken bodies from the street?”

  Neither men liked Mordred’s words, and the one closest to him threw a punch. Mordred avoided it easily, stepped around into the path of the second bouncer, and planted his foot right between his legs with enough force to send him to the cold pavement.

  Mordred moved away, watching both men, as the first bouncer ignored his friend and threw another punch. Mordred blocked the punch and smashed his fist into the man’s stomach, putting just enough magical power into the blow to ensure he made his point as succinctly as possible. The man crumpled to his knees, and Mordred drove his fist into the man’s face, busting open his nose and dropping him unmoving to the ground.

  The second man winced as he lay on the ground and tried to grab hold of Mordred’s leg, but Mordred was too quick and kicked the man in the face, sending him into the same state of unconsciousness as his friend.

  Mordred retrieved two guns from the bouncers, emptying both of their magazines and chambered rounds before dropping them back onto their owners. They’d used normal bullets, which was hardly surprising considering their bosses were werewolves, but it also meant that Mordred wasn’t about to be killed by a stray bullet. Besides, he’d left them alive as a warning—if they decided to come after him again, he’d reconsider his goodwill. He paused. He probably should have told them that. He glanced at the two men and was sure that when they woke up they’d figure it out on their own.

  He pushed open the door to the club and blinked as the noise from inside washed over him. It was made even worse by the fact that the second he stepped into the club, his magic switched off. He took a deep breath, and while the loud music made him wish he could just turn around and leave, he took a few steps inside until he was more comfortable with it.

  There were hundreds of people milling around the bar area at the far end of the floor or dancing near one of two sets of stairs that led up to the floor above. A large bouncer stood guard at the foot of the stairs, and across the floor, at the opposite side, was another bouncer guarding an identical staircase. The set of stairs furthest away from the dance floor was set back from any people. Presumably the guard there would be able to hear people a little easier than the one near the dance floor.

  “Lots of armed guards,” Mordred said. “Lots more innocent people. I presume they’re innocent.”

  “Some people like to go to dangerous places,” Diana said in his ear. “They like to feel as if they’re close to the danger while being distant from it.”

  “Then these people must love being here,” Mordred said, and looked up at the floor above, where he spotted more dancing. “More people on the floor above, and I can see those who are looking over the railings down on the people below.”

  “The third floor has the office,” Polina said.

  “Who’s in charge of this group?” Mordred asked as he walked through the floor toward the bar, smiling at several women who looked his way.

  “The alpha, and I hate that word, is called Alexi Popov. He’s a bad guy, but his second in command is the one you really need to look out for. Her name is Daria Kozar. I’m almost certain she’s ex-KGB.”

  “I thought there was no such thing,” Mordred said. “Isn’t that the phrase?”

  “So I hear. But on this occasion, I don’t think they’d really want her back.”

  “Vodka double, neat,” Mordred said to the barman in Russian. “Sorry, go on.”

  “She killed her commanding officer over a disagreement. Escaped from jail, and at some point met Alexi, who turned her into a werewolf. That was in the nineteen sixties. She’s said to be the one who skinned the werebear. She likes her knives.”

  “Sounds like my dream date,” Mordred said, and thanked the barman for the vodka. He knocked it back in one shot and made a slight sigh of contentment. “They might be evil, but they serve good vodka.” He placed the glass on the counter and walked over to the stairs the farthest from the dance floor while the bouncer there watched him with a cool detachment.

  “Fuck off,” the bouncer said when Mordred was close enough.

  “I’d like to see Alexi.”

  “Fuck off.”

  “Oh, come on, I just want to go upstairs and talk to your boss.”

  “And I want you to fuck off.” The bouncer placed his hand inside his jacket.

  Mordred stepped forward, grabbing the bouncer’s arm at the elbow with one hand and whispering into his ear. “I know I can’t use my magic in here, but I can really hurt you. So, you either tell Alexi that Mordred is here, or I cut off your arm and bludgeon you with the wet end.”

  The bouncer held Mordred’s gaze for several seconds.

  “You’ve heard of me, I assume.”

  The bouncer nodded, and Mordred saw the fear in his eyes.

  “Then you know I’m not screwing around here. I will really fuck your day up. I suggest not making me do that, by letting me see Alexi.”

  He nodded slightly and stepped aside. “Alexi is waiting for you.”

  Mordred walked up the first two stairs and paused. He turned back to the bouncer. “Just then, when you were scared. That wasn’t because of me, was it? That was because Alexi was talking to you in your earpiece?”

  The bouncer nodded.

  “You a werewolf?”

  He shook his head.

  “You like working here?”

  He shook his head again.

&nbs
p; “Alexi really that scary?”

  He nodded.

  Mordred turned without another word and walked up the flight of stairs, where once he was at the top a second bouncer, this one female, met him and led him toward a nearby door. She punched in a number on a keypad and pushed the door open, motioning for him to go up the stairs.

  He thanked the bouncer and began his ascension to the office above. Once the door behind him closed and locked, he was glad for the relative quiet the stairwell offered him. He reached the small landing at the top of the stairs and opened the door, revealing a spacious office.

  Mordred stepped into the office, closing the door behind him. There was a large desk adjacent to him, opposite a row of windows that looked down on the main dance floor. A large leather couch sat near the window, with a drinks cabinet close by, its top made of glass, revealing several bottles of spirits behind it, while the bottom half of the cabinet was wooden. The two doors on the far wall across from the entrance that Mordred had used were closed, and in between them was a glass cabinet with several pistols and rifles.

  The first door on the far wall opened, and a short, stocky man exited. He had blond hair tied back in a ponytail and wore an elegant black suit with a deep-red shirt, which Mordred guessed to be silk.

  “You must be Mordred,” the man said, walking over to him and offering his hand.

  Mordred took it and was surprised to discover that the man didn’t try to crush his hand. “You must be Alexi.”

  “That I am. Please take a seat.” He motioned toward the leather couch, which Mordred thanked him for and took a seat.

  “Drink?” Alexi asked.

  “Vodka, neat.”

  “Good man,” Alexi said, opening the drinks cabinet and revealing a small fridge-freezer in the bottom. Alexi removed the bottle of vodka and poured two glasses, passing one to Mordred. “I have this stuff shipped in from a small distillery in eastern Siberia. No one knows about it but a select few.”

  Mordred tasted the vodka. It was excellent. “Always nice to know of a good place to get vodka.”

  Alexi laughed. “Indeed it is.”