Spear of Destiny (Misadventures of Loren Book 1) Read online

  Most tourists visited the area to see the remnants that the Roman legionnaires had left behind. The sites were basically mossy stones that outlined a bygone era. The barracks looked like a dirty garden with patches of dirty brown, muddy brown, and a hint of sandy brown in some sections. The drill halls provided much of the same view. There was an amphitheater, which I'm sure was something to see when the Romans held gladiatorial shows, but it was just another pile of stones now. Even the temples to Diana, Jupiter Dolicheius, and Kithras were lackluster.

  Gwin walked about the town waving her arms as though she showed off the Roman Colosseum. She flicked her wrist, waving her fingers as though she were a game show host showing off the all-expenses paid luxury vacation to the contestants. Erwen rolled her eyes and fixed her gaze on the castle in the distance. She and Ruith clearly had no interest in the ancient Roman sites or sights.

  The four of us walked through the town square on the mostly deserted street. A few people milled about during the lunch hour. Most of the town's inhabitants were still at the castle for the communal meal, but a few had begun trickling back to their homes and places of business. The handful of tourists took one look at the closed for lunch signs in the shop and the barren streets and headed back to their rental cars.

  "Huh," sniffed Erwen. "It's a charming little town. Quaint enough to want to stop and see. But rustic enough to not want to stay. But, it's cute. Really."

  Gwin only smiled, but she also looped her arm through mine, like she was holding me back. I felt instantly chilled. I also felt a tingle, like my cousin had used some sort of calming magic on me. Had she known I was quickly losing my cool and my hands were heating at Erwen's passive-aggressive jab on my newly adopted hood?

  "It's true," said Gwin. "Life hasn't changed much here. We are but the descendants of Romans, still sequestered in our little corner of the world as though war rages on outside our fortress."

  "Clearly," said Ruith.

  There were no Roman descendants in this village. There were no humans either. These were all magical folks.

  Gwin smiled passively at me, her eyes sharp, her message clear. But I understood that we couldn't let Erwen and Ruith know that. We couldn't let anyone outside our community know that. Witches, when found out, did not fare well through human history. Ever heard of a little town called Salem? Yeah.

  "We're mostly farmers now," said Gwin. "Here's our general store. It's filled with locally grown produce."

  On display were pointy, green artichokes, fat, purple eggplants, fall-colored gourds, and leafy rings of cabbage.

  "You must have some seriously magical soil." Erwen picked up an avocado. "Or these must have cost a fortune to fly in."

  The fruit-bearing trees were native to subtropical climates. Which Britain was not. It was hard enough work getting a pit to sprout, growing it into a fruit-bearing tree was a daunting task.

  Erwen toyed with the green leaves of the single-seeded berry that would have never survived air travel. Her gaze rose back to Gwin's in a challenge. Gwin's smile faltered as she reached for an explanation.

  The truth was that the tree was grown here. With her magic and vast knowledge of plants and chemical compounds, Morgan could make anything placed in soil thrive. There was an avocado tree along with Rainier Cherry and plantain trees and a host of other fruit and vegetables in the magical soil behind the store.

  "It was a science project," I said. "The kids were tasked with recreating the conditions to grow exotic plants in a greenhouse. Can you imagine their parents' electricity bill these past months?"

  Erwen didn't even spare me a glance. A smirk spread across her face. I wanted to wipe it off with the backside of my hand. Preferably while my hand was on fire.

  I wanted to admit that both she and Ruith were amongst witches and wizards, that there were a group of hunky knights just over the hill. That one of those knights looked at me like he wanted to undress me—even though he hadn't in the time I'd been here.

  I wanted her to know that it was she who was the outsider here. It was she who was at the bottom of the social poll in this town. It was she who wouldn't fit in. I wanted her to know that this quaint little town could afford to fill a tub with caviar with the wealth the people had accumulated over the centuries.

  I wanted her to see the damn label on my designer jeans.

  But I didn't say, do, or show off anything. I had to protect these people, my people, my family. Man, having a secret identity sucked balls.

  We all turned to the opposite side of the street as a kid zoomed towards us. The young girl was being chased by two others. It wasn't a malicious chase. All the kids were laughing as they carried on. The young girl leading the pack flew above the graveled way on what looked like a hoverboard, while the other two kids chased her on foot.

  To the human eye, it looked like she was on a hoverboard. But she wasn't. The young witch was levitating. Gwin had told me that was a difficult skill that was easy for young witches but adults eventually grew out of it.

  As the young witch got nearer to us, her arms windmilled. Her feet pumped the air. Her face transformed from joy to fear as she fell out of the air and crashed down onto the hard pavement.

  Gwin rushed to her side. The girl had landed on her front and I could hear the cries as I crossed the street to join them. When Gwin turned the girl over there was a gash on her knee.

  Gwin balled her fist as she looked down at the girl's wound. I knew my cousin ached to use her healing magic on the girl, but she couldn't. Not with our audience.

  "I can make sure nothing is broken," said Ruith coming over. She pulled out a device that looked like an eighties-style cell phone and waved it over the little girl's leg. Then she frowned. "Actually, I can't. There's too much flesh in the way."

  Gwin set the little girl on her feet, placing herself between the girl and Ruith. "It's not so bad. Go inside the store and get a plaster."

  The little girl frowned. I wasn't even sure if they sold Band-Aids in the store. All witches had some healing ability. The girl's face screwed in confusion, likely wondering why Lady Gwin didn't heal her boo-boo on the spot. But she did as she was told and headed into the store.

  "Shame about her board," said Erwen.

  With the magic gone, the illusion was broken and the board was nowhere to be seen. My gaze caught on the bluestone around Erwen's neck. That little rock of poison was the reason the girl had faltered and gotten hurt.

  "Look Ms. Galla-han," said Erwen. "We're not here for Romans or groceries. We're here to do an exhumation at the castle."

  "An exhumation?" said Gwin. True horror washed over her features. "You want to raise a dead body?"

  "You can only exhume bodies for criminal investigation, public health, or at the request of the family."

  They all turned and looked at me.

  I shrugged at the fact that I knew such gruesome details. "My dad was an archaeologist."

  "We have a permit for exhumation," said Erwen. "I'm sure you've heard of witch trials. That's a crime. We think trials may have happened in Caerleon's past. The local authorities issued a special license for our investigation."

  Erwen handed Gwin the document, then turned on her designer heels, and began walking towards the castle. Gwin stood rooted a moment as she looked at the document. Looking over her shoulder I could tell it was legit. Her blue gaze sharpened as we looked from the document to each other. We turned in unison in a hurry to catch up with the witch hunters.

  "You can't go onto the grounds," said Gwin when we caught them up. "It's dangerous."

  Plus, there were dozens of live witches inside finishing up their lunchtime meal.

  "We're capable women," said Erwen. "We'll manage."

  They continued on past the tourist stand with fliers about the Arthurian Legends, past the fake sword in the stone attraction. When they got to the moat, they stopped. That's exactly what the man-made structure was designed to make the enemies do.

  The water surrounding the cas
tle was filthy, swamp-like. In fact, I distinctly saw a greenish-brown bubble rise to the surface and pop. The bridge was lowered, but the wood slats were rotted through enough to see the bubbling brew in many spots. Or so it seemed.

  "That's it?" said Ruith. "That's what we came for?"

  They looked up at the castle. To the human eye, it was an eyesore with a crumbling face and weathered turrets. Not the pristine palatial estate that someone with magic would see. Nor the crystal clear waters below the metal drawbridge.

  Erwen squinted her eyes, tilting her head left and right. She rubbed at the stone as she did so. Then she took a determined step onto the bridge.

  When she did, the waters rose up to her heel. A sluice of water wrapped around her entire foot and gave a tug. And then a determined pull. Erwen's body was yanked down into the water up to her knees, as though someone was trying to tug off her shoe. Because someone was trying to tug off her shoe.

  It was Viviane, the Lady of the Lake. I should probably mention that Viviane had a bit of a shoe fetish.

  Erwen screamed and flailed her arms. Ruith took a decided step back from her friend and covered her garments as the water sprayed up onto the dry land.

  I was lackadaisically debating whether I should step forward or not, when strong arms pulled Erwen up and out of the waters. Her shoe did not come with her. She came to stand on the ground. Seaweed socked one of her feet, but still, it worked for her. God, I hated her.

  "Did you miss the signs, ma'am?" Arthur stepped back from Erwen once she gained her balance. "There's no access. This entire area is off limits. The structure isn't safe."

  Alongside Arthur came Gawain and Geraint, with Morgan, who'd gone ahead to warn them, pulling up the rear.

  "I have a permit," Erwen spluttered as she fought a losing battle with the grime soaking into her clothing.

  Gwin handed the document to Arthur, who took it and read. "This is a permit to exhume. There are no bodies buried within the city limits."

  Erwen's jaw clenched as though she'd known that piece of information.

  "I'll have one of my assistants direct you to the burial grounds which are just outside the city." Arthur handed the document back to her.

  "And you are?" she asked.

  "Joseph Pendergrass."

  "Pendergrass?" Erwen chewed at the inside of her lip as she eyed Arthur, the third of his name, the fourth chieftain of the Pendragons. The expression on Erwen's face said she wasn't buying any of the misdirections these people had put in the way of lesser minds.

  Arthur bent his large form down to the water. His back was turned to Erwen but I saw him glaring into the waters. A moment later, Erwen's shoe floated to the top with what sounded like a petulant pop. Arthur retrieved Erwen's shoe from the thieving water witch. He rose and handed it to its original owner.

  "You saved my shoe," she said. "How chivalrous of you."

  "Try to keep it off private property."

  "Thank you, Mr. Pendergrass." Erwen's eyes raked over his impressive size. She spared Gawain and Geraint an appraising glance as well. Then she turned to Gwin. "Ms. Gallahan and…" She stared at me.

  Suddenly, I felt uncomfortable under her gaze. I felt myself shrinking as she squinted at my face and then ran her gaze down my body. Oh god, was that recognition dawning in her eyes? No, no, no. Not now.

  "Loren Van?" she said. And then her eyes widened. "Wait, do I know you?"

  My heart was in my throat, but I pushed the words passed anyway. "I just have one of those faces."

  "I do know you."

  My gaze flew up, looking for an exit. Instead of a way out, I saw the accented eyebrows of Geraint. My heart literally stopped.

  In front of me, Erwen burst out laughing. She turned to Ruith, pointing at me. "Don't you remember her?"

  Ruith frowned at me. "No."

  "Back at school. She tried to play hero to some scholarship kid and-"

  Ruith's eyes lit up with recognition. "Oh! Yeah. That is her."

  "Loren Van Ass."

  Chapter Seven

  I'd fallen on my ass in front of everyone. But I wasn't in the lunchroom of a preppy boarding school. Nor was I standing before the moat of a dilapidated medieval castle. I was in a tomb, being yanked up by the hair. The man yanking me was tall, broad, and super strong. He was Immortal, like my best friend.

  In the dream, I heard Nia shouting my name. Her face was contorted in horror. But not like when I spilled wine on her silk blouse. When that had happened she'd had a controlled anger as she contemplated how to murder me with her bare hands. Now, her face was a helpless anger as she watched me about to be murdered at someone else's hands.

  I felt the dagger abrade my skin. The ripping across my chest felt like my heart was breaking. But my mind was on the blood that spilled down Nia's shirt. That wouldn't come out and she was gonna be pissed.

  My life didn't flash before my eyes. Instead, I saw my parents smiling at me. I felt their arms reaching for me. With that thought in mind, death didn't seem so bad. Until I hit the floor.

  I woke up in a tangle of sheets on the floor on my bedroom in Tintagel castle. I'd been having these nightmares about what happened back in Sarras every couple of nights. But I wasn't lying when I said that death, real or dreamed, didn't scare me. My parents were wherever death led the dying. So it couldn't be all bad. No, what scared me was the ridicule and heartbreak and downright meanness that came from the land of the living.

  I thought I'd been scarred when my butt had hit the floor back in school. But I wasn't after any of those girls' respect. Well, not after my crash landing. After being humiliated, I'd just wanted to survive my education. And then to get the hell out of Dodge.

  But being humiliated in front of people I cared about? People whose respect I was trying to earn? People whose pointed eyebrows I wanted to straighten out? Yeah, that ripped open that childhood scab, poured in salt, and set it on fire.

  After the devilish duo outed me and my old nickname, I wanted to run away from Camelot. But to where?

  There was no way in hell I'd ever go back to my father's family. Not after being rejected when I'd been sat on their doorstep as a child. There was nothing worse than looking into the faces of people who resembled you and having them give you their backs.

  I could go back and return to my bestie's side. Before she'd left, Nia told me she was going home for a bit. But I didn't know where that was.

  I still had a key to my last boyfriend's place back in Greece. Lenny was on the run from his boss, so I doubted that he'd be there. But I didn't want to get myself involved in anymore Olympian god drama.

  I didn't have anywhere to go that was mine. I didn't own any land or rent any living quarters. My life was a series of storage units, hotel rooms, and friends' guest rooms. This bed was warm and comfortable and mine.

  Most of the knights and their families stayed inside Tintagel castle when they took their seats. My room was in the Galahad wing. Igraine had told me that it once belonged to my mother when her family had lived in the castle. But there wasn't anything left of her inside these four walls.

  Gwin had taken this room as a girl. After she'd married Merlin, the room had been stripped of her personality and left untouched, likely waiting to be filled with her children. But Gwin and Merlin had had none.

  There were no young people living in the castle. The squires went home each night to their parents. Morgan's room was just on the other side of the hall from mine.

  Morgan knocked on the door the next morning following my humiliation when I didn't come down for breakfast. Gwin brought food and gave me a hug. Morgan tried to teach me how to do a hex, and when I failed, she also gave me a hug. I'd forgotten how hugs eased pain. Especially when they were from people who weren't trying to get in your pants.

  By lunch, my soul was soothed by my cousins, but my ego was not. Theirs wasn't the respect I was after. Finally, I got up and left my room.

  I walked down the narrow stairwell, running my hands along the c
old stone walls. The stair rungs were the original stone and many of the steps were uneven. But I didn't lose my footing. It was as though my spirit knew these halls.

  I knew that the witch whose magic now flowed through my veins had visited this castle when she was alive. The steps, the walls, the tall archways were built by her children. Lady Mary Magdelene was the mother of the true Merlin. Only that wizard was actually a witch. Mara was the wife of Arthur the first. After her mother, she was the greatest witch in recorded history. Many of the acts the storybooks attributed to a white-haired Merlin had been performed by Mara.

  I walked through the Great Hall. Up overheard hanging above the archways were flags. Lions, tigers, horses and a few mythological beasts graced the fabrics. These were the flags of many knights who'd been in service to the castle. Many of the lines were no longer. There were only six knights in residence at Camelot.

  Walking by the Throne Room, where the Roundtable was situated, I found it empty. I slipped across the threshold and came into the room. My grandfather's seat was on the opposite side of the large table. It was bad form to sit in the seat without it being claimed. But there was no one around. I walked over and planted my butt.

  The seat felt a little big. It also felt right. Which was scary.

  What if I did pass these trials and I took this seat? Did that mean I'd have to stay here forever? I'd never stayed anywhere forever. I didn't truly understand that word; forever.

  It hadn't applied to any of my experiences. My life had been one of transience. I'd never had a home. Instead, I'd lived on dig sites with my father. Home was a tarp and a camp chair. I was more comfortable in a tent than on a bed.

  That wasn't true. I was more comfortable in a luxury hotel. Or on a yacht. I loved yachts, especially when they were docked in exotic places.