The Immortal Series

MORGANA

I can tell that James is trying to get my attention, but the buzzing noise in my ears is drowning him out.

Fifteen. It’s been years since somebody killed a whole coven.

Sorcerers are, by nature, a wholly communal group, the male equivalent of me (without the immortality and the general bitchiness). Pretty friendly guys with magic in their blood.

Gods alone know why they’re so communal. If I had to live with fourteen other sorceresses, I’d kill them before the day was out.

But sorcerers are all about brotherly bonding and a sense of community. The world’s original frat house.

And fifteen is the optimum amount for the highest, but manageable, power level. Obviously, you can have less if you snag some idents, but they’re pretty rare.

I’d estimate there are sixty or so sorcerer covens spread about the globe.

There are far more witches and warlocks than those with true-blooded sorcery, but the blokes all find each other and set up their little communities.

Don’t get me wrong; other people are welcome too. They have families, etc., and they travel, but there’s always the area where the fifteen of them will get together and rock out the mojo.

The power they can create gets pretty epic.

The older a sorcerer or sorceress gets, the more power they accumulate (which explains why I am so blindingly badass), and the tighter the coven, the more they can tap into each other and strengthen the bond.

A thousand or so years ago, I banded together fifteen covens. Yup, fifteen fifteens, to try and rid me of the immortal curse. Didn’t exactly go to plan.

They create a hella lot of power, and had it been anything else, they probably would have succeeded.

But I underestimated the power of Merlin and his curse, and instead of sorting me out, the power rebounded and set off a chain reaction that may have sunk a few islands and set off the odd volcano.

Oops. Whatever. It would have been worth it if it had worked. And they volunteered, so there’s also that.

There have been more incidents in history where a coven tried something that was out of their league and a few got wiped out.

It’s mortal nature to reach beyond your grasp, but people risk too much for more power.

But obviously, this wasn’t like that. If it had been a magical mishap, you could tell. They would have told somebody outside the coven what they were up to. Standard safety precaution.

You can also tell what the spell was by the runes that get burnt into people when the magic rebounds. They called in James. They want to find out what happened from them.

So that means there are no clues, no burns, none of the usual trappings of magic gone astray.

That means they didn’t do it to themselves. They weren’t hired to power up some warlock. They weren’t reaching for immortality. They were killed. A ritual sacrifice of a full coven.

There aren’t many who can do it, and there are even fewer who would go through with it.

Sacrifice is never as easy as it sounds. In our world, if you sacrifice someone, you get their spirit following you around forever. It’s where the myths of hauntings come from.

If you know someone who’s being haunted, you know they snuffed someone to perform a sacrifice. And you should smack them upside the head.

Hmm? Oh, James is snapping his fingers in front of my eyes. “What?”

“Don’t sound so snippy. You zoned out.”

Yeah. I do that. I have so many memories that I have a tendency to get lost. Not that I need anyone’s help getting found, mind. I’m not a child.

“Yeah, whatever. So shall I let Lavender Boy out, and we’ll go do some detective-ing?”

James’s eyes widen ever so slightly. This is the only physical sign he gives that he’s shocked. It’s not often I want to help.

“What?” I’m even sharper this time. “Sorcerers are my blood kin, James. You kill them, you deal with me. Thems be the rules.”

James runs a hand wearily over his jaw. “Yeah, of course you can come along. Go get suited and booted, and we’ll head out.”

I shoot him a full grin, and he rolls his eyes and points at me. “Though it’s me they’re paying, so you don’t get a cut.”

I laugh and gesture to his apartment. “You need all the help you can get. You basically live in a hovel.”

He just shrugs. For a demigod, he has really bad taste in housing. I have loads of houses, and they’re all pretty decadent. I like my luxury. I’m okay with that.

I receive another of his rumbly chuckles as I go to the bedroom in search of footwear. My boots are still by the bed, but they probably aren’t the best for serious work.

Sorcerers have died. I’ll show some damn respect. Thigh-high leather boots probably won’t set the right tone.

I conjure some of my riding boots and slip them on. Practical, a little somber, not even an inch heel, but they still match my outfit. Job done.

I also pull my coat from its place in the aether. I love this coat even more than I love my boots. It’s black leather. Not the shiny kind, more doe skin, soft yet durable.

I flick up the high collar and smooth it down. It reaches my knees, and the torso is fitted like a corset.

It only fastens to the base of my waist, so it flares out at the hips and sweeps behind me when I walk. Small pleasures.

I give myself another once-over in the mirror. Yup, I look great.

Back in the other room, James had managed to find some dark jeans to shrug on, as well as ratty trainers and a jacket. Unlike me, he never really cares how he looks, yet he always looks good.

The ladies seem to love it. I think it’s the constant relaxed vibe he gives off. That’s just him. I mean, who’s gonna mess with a demigod?

His eyes flick to my shoes, and he blinks. Ha, surprised him again.

“You like?” I give him a twirl.

He doesn’t react. “Shoes are less…pointy than usual.”

I give him a level look, but he’s giving nothing away. I start for the mug containing Samuel, but James interrupts me.

“Gana.” His arms are folded again. “Could you do me a favor? A personal one?”

I narrow my eyes at him. “What?” I’m cautious.

He huffs out a breath. “Look, it’s just for my ego more than anything.”

He looks up at me with a twinkle in his dark eyes. “If someone else implies we’re sleeping together, could you maybe not take that as a mortal insult?”

He rolls his eyes. “You don’t have to pretend we are, but you don’t have to act like it would be the end of the world. I mean, come on, you’ve done worse.”

I open my mouth to respond, but he grins, and there’s a flash of light. He’s summoned Anthony back. Anthony’s still sobbing and cringes away from me.

Wow, I really must have damaged James’s ego. He called Anthony back so that I couldn’t react to him. Smug bastard. But he’s underestimated me.

I flick my fingers at Anthony, and he freezes. James rolls his eyes as I step toward him. I reach a finger up and poke him in the chest.

“Fine,” I mutter. “I’ll admit I’ve done a lot worse. But I don’t sleep with people I like.”

“Thought you didn’t like me.”

I poke him again, but this time I let a small crackle of electricity out of my fingertip. His jaw tightens as he tries not to flinch.

“Don’t push me, Katondan, not today.”

James relents, and I smirk.

“But fine. I guess it’s not an offense punishable by death. But I’m not going to play the doting girlfriend, and I don’t appreciate being called a whore.”

I step back and unfreeze Anthony. I sneer at the fact he can’t stop crying and step away from him.

James groans and steps up. “Anthony.” He claps a hand on his shoulder. “You have to pull yourself together.”

“Wh-where's Samuel?” Anthony starts wiping his nose on his immaculate white sleeve, and I make a gagging noise. James shoots me a look, but there’s no condemnation there.

“Anthony, look at me. She’s not going to give you Samuel back until you pull yourself together and apologize.”

Anthony’s back shoots straight up, and the sniffles lessen. “Apologize? Good sir, she… she…”

James claps a hand over Anthony’s mouth and leans into him. James is about four inches shorter than the guy, but that doesn’t matter. He’s radiating power.

He doesn’t try to stand at eye level. He doesn’t pull Anthony’s head down. James just stands at his own height and lets his natural gravitas and divine blood speak for themselves.

“She,” he starts slowly to the herald, “is one of the most powerful beings on the planet. She is not somebody you want to piss off again. She punished me for saving you the last time.”

Anthony whimpers slightly, but James doesn’t remove his hand.

“Gotta get this straight, herald. She’s not into black magic. She did not kill her brother. She is not a monster. If you call her those things again, I’m not gonna get in the way when she wastes you.”

Anthony tears his eyes from James’s to look over at me. I don’t sneer. I don’t snarl. I just stare steadily back at him.

I’m not sure why James has chosen to step in again, but he has, and I’m really not in the mood to beat the crap out of him again.

If I need the idents to find the sacrifice, then they’ll live, at least until they’ve told me where I’m going.

Anthony’s gaze drops back to James. The tears have slowed.

James nods at him. “I’m going to let you go now. You’re not going to be an idiot, Anthony. You’re going to stop crying, you’re going to apologize to her, and then you’re going to shut up for a while.

“If you don’t do those things, she’ll probably kill you. She’s rash like that. You understand the plan?”

Anthony nods. James removes his hand and steps away. Anthony’s taking short, sharp breaths, and I’m pretty sure he’s going to get the hiccups. He wipes his tears away and turns a bit more toward me.

“Lady Le Fay,” he manages to choke out. “Please forgive my intolerable rudeness before. I was shocked, and it was out of order. I offer my sincere and eternal apologies for the offense caused.”

“Fine,” I snap. There’s no use in wringing his neck now, and James said I still get to kill him if he steps out of line.

I flick my fingers, and Samuel reappears next to him.

Anthony opens his mouth to exclaim something joyful, but his eyes snap to me again, and he closes his mouth quickly but throws his arms around his ident.

Samuel looks between us all and gently untangles Anthony from around him. Anthony is still taking little breaths, and I might actually start counting down to when he starts hiccuping.

Samuel gives his collar a straightening. He doesn’t look any worse for wear after being a mug for a while. He’s pretty resilient; I’ll give him that.

His eyes do a sweep of me, taking in the coat and boots. “Ready to leave, are we, Morgana?”

I shrug. I don’t feel like talking to him. The difference now between him and Anthony is brilliant. Samuel is still a vision in white, while Anthony is red-faced, coffee-stained, and snuffling.

James decides it’s time to speak up. “She knows, Samuel. She’s gonna help.”

Samuel turns to him. “It was private information, son of Katonda.”

James chuckles. “Yeah, but you wanted her here. Whatever’s going on, you want her involved. Well, maybe you don’t know anything about it, but I guarantee your boss does.”

Samuel’s brows knit ever so slightly, as do mine. What does James know that he isn’t telling me?

James folds his arms and leans against the wall. “There’s usually a short list for a spirit talker in these cases. Usually ten or twelve names of those you can pay to help.

“I’m guessing that today, there was only one name on the list.”

Samuel clenches his jaw but then nods curtly once.

James nods back at him. “Yeah. If your boss knows me, he also knows I know her. Even your precious records told you that.” He jerks a thumb at me.

“Again, I’m guessing, but I’d be willing to bet that they knew that even if she wasn’t here, I’d call her in when I found out what was going on, which I didn’t need to do because she was already here when someone rang me.

“Well, you got her. Good luck to you.”

“You knew? Who told you?” Samuel looks a bit taken aback as his entire job here is seemingly pointless.

“A friend,” James answers cryptically. “I keep my ear to the ground. So I’ll come along, but I’m not taking responsibility for her.

“In my home, I try and keep the deaths in check. If she’s working with you, she’s your problem.”

I smirk at Samuel. Then Anthony hiccups.

It’s hilarious. He immediately claps his hands over his mouth and looks at me with fear. He hiccups again, which is followed by a whimper.

Samuel is flicking his gaze between the two of us like it’s a tennis match. I burst out laughing.

“What is wrong with you?” I’m not sure which of us Samuel is talking to, but it only makes me laugh harder.

James gestures at Anthony. “I told him if he made any more noise, she’d most likely kill him.” Horror flashes onto Samuel’s face, but James just gives him an even look.

“What? It was the only way to get him to stop crying. And it’s true.”

Samuel rolls his eyes and grabs Anthony’s arm. He jerks a nod at both of us. “Son of Katonda, Lady Le Fay, it has been a most interesting morning.”

“Yeah,” I mutter. “Happy birthday to me.”

Both heralds freeze slightly at my words. Anthony even stops hiccuping. “It’s your birthday?” Samuel is surprisingly quiet when he questions me.

“Maybe.” I’m immediately defensive. “What’s it to you? Got me a present?”

Anthony’s mouth is hanging open, but Samuel has a little more decorum. He lifts his head up to his full height and regards me.

“Might be nothing.”

We stare at each other. I know he wants to probe my mind, but he’s holding back. What the hell is going on?

“Where are we going?” James finally asks.

Samuel is still looking at me when he answers, “Glastonbury.”

James scoffs. “Glastonbury? There’re no covens there. The entire town is full of Druids. They’re not going to kill anyone.”

“Where?” My tone gets sharp again as possibilities spill through my mind. Samuel doesn’t answer me, and I step toward him. “Where did they die, herald? The abbey or the isle?”

“The isle?” Anthony finally speaks up, but I don’t look at him. He continues anyway. “The isle is the whole place. It’s not—”

Samuel tightens his grip on his ident, and Anthony shuts up immediately. “She knows better, Anthony.”

His eyes still scan mine, trying to see inside. “She was there at the beginning of it. When she says the Isle, she means—”

I snarl. “I know what I mean. There are two true places of power in Glastonbury, and one of those has been a secret for a thousand years.

“A normal practitioner wouldn’t know that. Tell me where they died, and I’ll know better what I’m dealing with.”

I see the question in both their eyes, but it’s Samuel who answers. “It wasn’t the abbey.”

And they disappear. In a puff of lavender-scented smoke. It’s hideous.

“I really, really hate heralds.” I keep clenching and unclenching my fists to keep the rage down. “They don’t tell you what you need to know.”

“I thought you’d be happier.” James cocks his head to one side. “I mean, it’s good that it’s not the abbey, right? That’s where your brother’s buried.”

I give him a look, and he catches on pretty quickly. “Ah. Right. That’s where your brother is supposedly buried.” He shrugs. “Well, at least fifteen sorcerers weren’t killed on your brother’s grave.”

I keep looking at him, and he sucks his lip ring into his mouth again.

“Right. Yes, of course, the unknown place of power. So what you’re saying is fifteen sorcerers were slaughtered on your brother’s secret grave, in a mysterious ritual, on your birthday.”

He claps his hands together. “Can’t really get much worse, can it?”

He walks to me and lifts an arm to give me a faux punch in the shoulder.

“Come on, let’s go kick some ass. Afterward, I promise to get rip-roaringly drunk with you, and I’ll give you a birthday present.”

“James, so help me, if you get me a present, I’ll neuter you.”

He gives me another of his rumbling laughs as he puts a few things in his pockets. “You’ll like it. It doesn’t have a bow.”

I hate gifts. But I also hate secrets, and he knows it. “Fine,” I roll my eyes, “What is it?”

He grins at me. The twinkle is back in his eyes. “I’ll hold the spirits off you today. You can do whatever the hell you want, and there’ll be no judgment.”

My slow grin matches his. “Oh, James, you know just what to say to a girl.”

He chuckles again and goes to the letterbox by the front door. I know what’s in there. If you’re on herald business, you get a free pass to teleport. Teleporting is usually forbidden.

Well, I do it all the time. But I don’t really give a damn, so it doesn’t count.

Sure enough, there’s a pristine letter with a slight floral scent. He opens it and scans it. “I was right,” he mumbles, holding the letter out for me. “It’s a pass for two. They definitely want you there.”

By the powers that be, this seal grants access to travel across the realms to the named subjects below:

James Catton – a registered Son of the Katondan race

Morgana Pendragon – sorceress by birth

It has my real name on it. Whoever’s in charge went through James to get me involved. Probably because no herald has ever successfully given me a message in centuries, but it still annoys me.

I look at the signature and scowl. “No punishment, right?” I hand the letter back to James with a smirk.

He nods. “Yup, birthday special.”

“I could just kiss you.”

He chuckles. “Why not. Everyone already thinks you have.”

And he presses the seal before I can respond. There’s a brief flash of light, my ears pop, and then the wind hits me.

I’m glad my hair is tied back, because otherwise, it would be in my mouth. My coat billows around me and snaps as the wind tugs at it.

James and I are standing near the top of Glastonbury Tor. Historic isle of Avalon. A place where the ley lines cross and true magic is born.

And where I buried my brother. The wards on his grave are fed by the power here and flow back into it.

It’s a fortress. Nobody has tried to break the shield in… gods, I don’t even know, barely in my memory. Why would anybody even try?

But I’m guessing fifteen dead sorcerers might know.

James and I start for the group of people a few hundred meters ahead.

When they first started issuing teleports, they took the reader straight to whoever authorized the seal. They stopped that pretty soon, when people landed on people—and in people.

It was unpleasant. Funny, but unpleasant. Now they take you to an empty space a short distance away. I could teleport closer, just to freak them out, but I hold it in.

I can see six heralds and some bodyguard-type guys. I’m guessing trolls. I love those guys. They’re huge and always up for a party. There are also a few Druids milling around.

The death site must be just over the top, because I can’t see anything from here.

I shudder slightly as the feeling creeps over me. I know James can feel it too. There has been a lot of death here, violent, painful death. It’ll get worse as we get closer, but I can handle it.

The heralds spot us, all at the same time, and various overly flowery greetings hail to us over the morning wind.

Anthony and Samuel are both there. I can see their matching hair getting ruffled. Anthony’s suit is clean again. Bloody heralds.

And then they part, and their boss comes through. I mutter a curse and stop. If he wants my help, he’ll come to me.

James stops with me and shoots me a curious glance.

But over comes the boss. He’s in his usual attire, a business suit. Again, totally impractical for a windy day in Somerset, but he doesn’t give a damn.

His skin is golden, like his eyes, and his dark hair is pulled back in a ponytail. He grins at me and crosses his muscled arms over his chest.

“Morgana.” He looks far too happy to see me. “I knew you’d come.”

I frown. “Sorcerers are dead, Iah. I’m here for them.”

He keeps grinning, and I sneer.

“And anyway, you asked James here, not me. You knew I wouldn’t come here for you.”

His smile widens as he puts his hands over his heart in mock pain. “You wound me, Morgana. You do.” He nods at James. “I see you traded down. I didn’t think demis were your style.”

James raises an eyebrow, and I send a small electricity jolt at Iah. He barely notices it. “Come, come, little immortal, bring your pet Katondan, and let’s get to work.”

He walks away. I don’t follow. “I really hate him.”

James is watching him with an odd look on his face. “Gana.” He’s still watching. “What was his name?”

“Iah,” I mutter.

James turns to look at me. “And you slept with him.” It’s not a question, so I don’t give an answer. I did, but I’m not into admitting it.

James pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. “So we’re working with your middle-management ex-boyfriend.”

I shrug but don’t move. “He’s not middle-management.”

I start to walk toward the group and hope my voice is drowned out by the wind. “He’s a god.”