Now edited!
Chapter One
“Nothing?”
Kay shook his head as Lance sat down next to him in the office while he was watching Gawain’s fingers fly over the keyboard. He knew what Lance was asking, and he didn’t attempt to hide his confusion or his desolation. It had been six months and seemed at least as many lifetimes since he had seen Charles. He would never have run out of the room if he had known Charles was going to leave without him.
He knew—absolutely knew—Charles was his Tresor. The constant ache in his gut, the feeling of despair, the feeling that part of you was missing. He just didn’t understand how it was possible. Tresors were mortal. They all knew that, and especially in Charles’s case, his life wasn’t his own. He had made that abundantly clear, even if Kay didn’t understand it. Had it all been a cruel dream? Finally, to have someone to ease his loneliness, warm the chill of despair that sometimes seeped so far in his bones he felt as if his life were some frozen masquerade, playing out for Morgan’s entertainment? It could be argued that Kay’s life—all their lives—weren’t their own, but Kay made that choice every day. Every day when he strapped on his sword and went out to fight, it was still his decision. Charles had insisted he had no choice.
Maybe I’m just not enough temptation to look for one.
“Have you found anything new?” Lance addressed Gawain.
“Nothing much other than what Charles already told us,” Gawain said in frustration. “The Hospitallers were not founded until the early eleventh century some six hundred years after the events at Camlaan. They were founded to give aid to pilgrims visiting the Holy Land.”
“I thought they were a military order?” Lance asked.
“They became military during the Crusades, spent a few hundred years moving all over the Americas and then Europe before settling in Malta. They varied between policing much of Europe and behaving like pirates.”
“I’ve certainly never come across any that seemed to have unnatural abilities,” Lance confirmed and glanced at Kay.
“I’ve met them a few times over the years but none that ever seemed to have the abilities Charles has, and certainly none that ever gave me the impression they had lived more than one lifetime. The ones I met were in the various hospitals I have given aid to.” Because at one time Kay had dreamed of being a doctor. But that dream had been taken from him as well.
“You spent some time in Jerusalem.” Lance nudged Gawain. “While I was in France.”
“I missed you by a few weeks,” Gawain said. “The monks spoke of a healer who never forgot anything. They said he had been sent by God, but the devil sent unseen monsters to drive him out. I guessed—hoped—they meant you.”
He had been there months and was just beginning to hope he could find somewhere to use his knowledge, but the Ursus had come one night and nearly destroyed the building in trying to kill him. Kay had to leave without the chance to say goodbye to his patients.
It seemed he always had to say goodbye.
Kay knew he had to move, to do something, just as Mel came in and flopped down. “I’m starving,” he said dramatically. Lance chuckled and in one move plucked him bodily from his chair and onto his lap. Mel nuzzled his neck, and Kay had to look away as a flare of jealousy ripped through him. Gawain huffed and pushed himself away from the screen.
“It’s my turn. Pizza?”
Kay wrinkled his nose. Charles had been a good cook as well.
“Or I can make spaghetti,” Gawain offered with even less enthusiasm.
He studied the other knights as one by one they all trooped despondently into the large kitchen. They hadn’t had a break on any night for the last six months either, even though they hadn’t seen large numbers. The Ursus had just kept coming, and it seemed no matter how many they killed, they would always be back the next night.
“Have you thought any more about leaving the city?” Gawain asked Lance as they walked into the kitchen.
Lance looked bleakly at him. “Mel thinks it wouldn’t make any difference.”
Gawain glanced over at Mel as he thumbed through the menus they kept in a drawer. “You sense something?”
Mel tossed the menus aside and looked at Gawain with troubled eyes. “We need to stay here.”
Kay agreed. But not for the same reason. Part of a childish rationale he would never freely admit, he was worried Charles would never find him if he wasn’t waiting for him. As if he wouldn’t know where he was.
And he understood Lance’s reluctance. His son had been sighted, and if it were true, if it were really him, there was no way Lance would leave New York, although they had never seen him again either.
“Maybe we don’t all need to go out tonight though,” Lance allowed, and without even looking at Lance, Kay knew he meant him. And for a second he grabbed at the excuse with both hands, knowing every day was getting to be more of an effort, but he couldn’t. The Ursus hadn’t let up for one night, and the thought Morgan was clearly getting stronger to enable this was even worse. They heard the door open and close, boots stamping, and they all glanced at the kitchen door as Ali breezed in followed by Tom and Lucan. She was laughing, her head thrown back in amusement as Tom grinned at some shared joke. It would be simpler if Ali were his. He loved Ali like he loved the rest of them. She was as Mel liked to say a “badass” but unfortunately not his.
Ali’s eyes unerringly found his as if she knew where his thoughts were, and her warm assessing gaze swept him up and down. “I could eat a horse,” she said bluntly.
“We were just deciding on pizza,” Gawain offered and strode to where Mel had tossed the menus.
But Kay wasn’t hungry. He turned, frustrated with himself and angry with everything else, and headed to the door.
“Kay?” It was Lance, and he paused in the hallway.
“I can’t,” he bit out. He couldn’t pretend everything was all right when it wasn’t.
“He’s your Tresor,” Lance said bluntly, the conviction ringing through every syllable. “He will be back.”
“How do you know?” Kay whispered.
“Because you told me. That day we went to see Tom’s mother at the church.” Kay instantly ran through their exact conversation.
“How is it possible to know I’ve never met him but at the same time have him feel so familiar?”
Lance nodded as if he had spoken aloud.
“But what if I’m wrong?”
“I don’t think you are,” Lance said after a moment, “but if you are, then your Tresor will be on his or her way, and you don’t have to worry.”
Kay paused and considered what Lance was saying.
“But how can he be mine when he aids others?” He wasn’t here. Charles had told them that was his life. He was shown his “light” as he had described it, or his charge. He had been responsible for bringing Tom safely to adulthood, or at the very least to Lucan. It was only when Tom’s life was threatened again did he reappear, but the last time he had known he was done. Now he was off saving someone else.
“I know it seems like we have been waiting. Night after night we don’t seem any further forward, but things are changing. Mel—Merlin—coming back to us has changed everything.” Lance clasped Kay’s shoulder. “We are nearing the final battle, and to do that Charles will be at your side—”
“And after?” Kay asked bitterly. He would be tossed aside again, and that was assuming they won.
Lance gazed at him. “You have a family that wants you now.”
Did he? Or did they just want what he represented. Kay shrugged. “I’m going for a drive. Let me know where to meet and who will be my babysitter.”
Kay walked outside, not giving Lance a chance to reply, and headed for his truck. He knew the others watched out for him in some ways more than Tom or Mel. It had never been spoken, but he didn’t fight on his own.
Maybe I should?
Would it bring Charles to him? He didn’t want to die. He wasn’t suicidal, just tired. Drained. So many deaths, so many pointless deaths, and he could remember every one. He drove aimlessly as the shadows in the city lengthened, but then he wasn’t surprised to see Prospect Park ahead of him. He knew what today was, and why his subconscious had brought him here. Fifty years since he’d seen a young girl beaten by her asshole of a pimp in the days when the only people who visited the park were looking for other highs than playing tennis and taking kids boating. She’d approached him as he had patrolled, and trying to turn her down kindly had been difficult when she hadn’t wanted to take no for an answer. He was just going to give her some money anyway when he had heard the cry of the beasts and had run to find them.
He’d come back later after killing one to make sure the park was safe before they went home and heard her. He’d heard the desperate cry cut off with a fist, and worse seen the pulp left of her young face when she was no longer making a noise. If he hadn’t known it was her, the only way to tell would have been the tattoo on her neck he had recognized. At least she wasn’t dead, and Kay had lingered until the ambulance arrived.
He’d come very close to killing a human that day. Apparently, she had failed to fill her quota.
He answered his cell phone as he stopped the truck. “Meet Lucan at the south entrance to the park. He’s on his way.” He jerked at the terse instruction from Mel and realized the sun had set. His amulet flashed, the blue of the stones turning darker to indicate the Ursus’s presence. Kay’s breath caught. The wooded areas and the playgrounds would be closed. There would still be a lot of people in the park, but he was close enough to the Lincoln Road entrance to miss most of the people leaving the other way.
He heard them as soon as he got out of the truck and started running. What sort of a sick coincidence had brought him here on this day?
He smelled the Ursus before he saw it and followed the screams, except these came from a human throat. He drew his sword as the Ursus turned and dropped the woman that it was holding, raising its sword and roaring its anger to the heavens.
Except it didn’t sound like anger. It sounded like triumph.
Kay drew his sword as he had done what seemed like every second of a million lifetimes, but just as he was going to slash it down, the Ursus changed. And for an interminable second, Kay halted, not believing what he was seeing. It wasn’t the face of the Ursus he was looking at. Black eyes like chips of smooth glass lightened and stared back, became human even as Kay gazed in disbelief. He could see sickened fear in the haunted gaze, the confusion and the terror. As the woman held up a hand as if to ward off the blow from Kay’s sword, he saw the bruises and the sagging skin hung from too gaunt a frame. The cart she pushed with her worldly goods in had turned over, and the smell of rotting food and paper hit Kay in a rush, and he lowered his sword in utter shame.
“I—” But the words—any words—caught in his throat. Silence seemed to weigh down his world. There were no cries of the beasts; his heart that had pounded in his ears fell to a mere whisper that fluttered against his ribs. His sorrow, his shame, had no noise. “I won’t hurt you.” He reached out with his empty hand just as she was brave enough to look up.
For a second he looked at too wasted a life. The red-rimmed eyes, the hair that had once been long which now seemed to lie in clumps, but as he watched, she brought her hand up to her throat and traced the tattoo on her throat. The triquetra symbol. The Celtic trinity. He stared in disbelief as recognition slammed into him. It was the girl from fifty years ago. Impossible. But his eyes shot to meet hers as she suddenly smiled and her green eyes that had been full of tears bled to black. Her mouth—thin red lips—parted as if ready to utter kind words, but the sound that came from them chilled his soul. The song of the beasts, too harsh to come from a human throat, slid into his mind like poison and held him still. She rose defiantly, all sense of infirmity gone, the cry on her lips and a sword in her hand, and as she raised it, Kay knew he was going to die. He didn’t understand, but bewilderment was little comfort and no explanation. He didn’t even have the ability to close his eyes as the sword came hurtling down.
And then sword met sword in a shriek of metal defiant enough to stop the cry from her lips, except it wasn’t his sword, and Charles cut through the woman as if she were nothing.
Silence. The dust blew away on the breeze, taking the woman and what seemed little sanity he had as if it had all been a fantasy.
Or maybe his sanity was the worse illusion of all.