I couldn't help but laugh which, from the expression on Sara's face, wasn't what she'd expected. 'Power corrupts everyone who wields it. Those who realise this are the same ones who try to use it to help. The trick is realising it before it's too late.'
'So it corrupted you?'
'It corrupts everyone,' I repeated, with no wish to elaborate.
Sara took the hint and changed the conversation. 'What was it like when you saw your first dead body?'
'I was eight,' I said, my voice soft as I remembered the day. Sorcerers were blessed, and cursed, with fantastic recall. I could pick out events with ease, but sometimes names and faces didn’t come so easily. So, even though the day was over sixteen-hundred years earlier, I pulled the memory back to the present. It was as if I'd selected a book from a huge library in my mind, each one containing a different year, and then found the correct page. My memories started at the age of eight when I found myself waking up in a field in the south-west of England. Before then… nothing but an empty void.
'Eight! Seriously?'
'Yeah. And to answer your question, I'd been in Camelot for about six months, and used to sneak out of the castle and into the town itself.' I smiled at the memory. I'd loved the bustle of the streets, the fact that I could become anonymous and not just Merlin's protege, which was how many in the castle saw me.
'One time there was an argument between two men, something to do with one sleeping with the other man's wife.' My memory might be perfect, but it was only in the context of what my eight-year-old self had seen and heard. 'A guard decided the best way to deal with it was to let the two of them fight. The man whose wife had cheated defeated his opponent quite easily, but as he turned to celebrate, the first man stabbed him in the heart with a blade passed by one of the crowd.
'I remember the man staring at his chest as the blade was removed. He fell backwards, dying before he hit the ground. There were cheers from some of the crowd, and silence from others. The guards rounded up the killer and his friends and Arthur had them executed a few days later.' I stopped there, not willing to talk about how I'd felt at the time. I wasn't angry with the killer for cheating, one look at him and I'd known that he would. I was angry with the dead man for allowing himself to be killed by such deceitful bastard.
Later that day, Merlin had spoken to me about what had happened and asked how I'd have handled it differently if it had been my wife. A t night, sneak into the house of the man who had cheated with my wife, and kill him in his sleep. If my answer had upset Merlin, he'd showed no outward signs and within the week I was learning the ways of silent death.
'I thought Arthur was a benevolent man,' Sara said, after hearing that he had people put to death.
'To people who deserved it, he was benevolent. But not to cowards who thought they could flaunt the rules as they liked. If the man had decided on armed combat, the end result would have probably been the same, but it would have been just. Arthur saw things in black and white. You were either right or wrong.'
'You don't sound like you agreed with him.'
'No, I saw things differently, more pragmatic. Still do for the most part. But Arthur was stubborn and incapable of being flexible when it came to honour. It caused a few arguments between the knights.'
'The knights?' Sara asked, eyes wide. 'As in, the round table?'
'I don't remember a round table. Merlin made that up to make Arthur seem more impressive. But they were still knights, and all of equal rank, so in that regard the stories are right. Not the knights you think of today, though, with their suits of armour. This was a few centuries before plate armour. They were more along the lines elite warriors. And not all of them got on with Arthur. In fact, most argued on a regular basis.'
'Were you a knight?'
'No, I was never afforded that privilege.'
'Why?'
Because I had to be kept separate to ensure that whatever Merlin had me do would never tarnish Arthur's name or legend. But more than anything, because I was never knight material and never wished to be. But I kept that to myself, instead going with, 'Many reasons.'
Sara seemed to accept my answer and finished her drink, throwing the can into a nearby wooden bin, before sitting next to me, her fingers brushing against mine. 'Why did that girl have so many horrible things done to her? What did the killer gain from it?'
I'd been wondering when she was going to get round to asking me about what she'd witnessed and heard in the morgue. 'No idea,' I said. 'But her death was different from the other victims. Everything done to her was to make a point, probably to Vicki, since they were a couple.'
'It must have been horrific.' Sara's voice was soft, barely above a whisper, her distress obvious.
'We'll find him and stop him.'
'Do you think you can?'
Before I could answer Olivia and Tommy emerged from out of the building, almost running in their haste. 'Olivia had a call, there's been another body found,' Tommy said as the hurried past.
'This is where your involvement ends,' I said. 'I'm sorry, but it's too dangerous.'
'I know,' Sara said, with a nod. 'Just go stop him. Don't let anyone else go through what Amber did.'
The journey took nearly half an hour. Tommy stopped beside two LOA agents who directed us onto dirt track which took us deep into the New Forest.
It was pitch black under the trees. I didn't have time to stop and use magic to allow me to see in the dark, so I turned on the headlights and continued to follow Tommy at a low speed — my bike was not made for off road use and the vibrations felt like they were crushing the bottom of my spine.
A few hundred yards into the forest and the dirt path opened into a large clearing with a dozen more agents milling around. Huge floodlights had been erected at one side, bathing the entire area in an almost daylight level of illumination.
I stopped the bike next to Tommy's truck, switched off the engine and removed my helmet, as a man I recognised as the one who'd pointed a gun at me back at the farmhouse walked toward us. His name popped into my head, Agent Greaves.
'Oh good, the P. I,' he said when he saw Tommy get out of the truck. Without a gun pointed at me, I was afforded a proper look at the agent. Greaves was a tall, thin man with a nasty scar along his chin. His hair was long and flowed freely over his shoulders, and mud splattered against the trousers of his expensive suit. He didn't look happy to be searching the woods, and even less so to see Tommy and me.
'We're here to help,' Tommy said.
'Here to get in the fucking way,' Greaves snarled. 'You're only here because-'
'Because of what?' Olivia called, accompanied by the sound of a car door slamming shut. No one spoke as she made her way toward the gent. 'Please, Agent Greaves, feel free to enlighten us with your in-depth knowledge of why Tommy is employed on a recurring basis.'
If Agent Greaves was wise, he'd have said sorry and then shut up. Unfortunately, Agent Greaves was an idiot. 'All I meant, Ma'am, was that Tommy-'
'Agent, if you don't shut up and do your job, I will personally have you shipped somewhere very unpleasant for the next century. Are we clear?'
Agent Greaves darted from view like a deer given reprieve by a hunter's wayward bullet.
'I want your opinion on this crime scene,' Olivia said to me.
'Okay, so where's the body?'
Another agent — this one about my height, but without my stocky build, pointed toward the woods behind him and went back to talking to someone in blue scrubs with blood on his sleeves.
I grabbed some latex gloves and Tommy joined me in my trek across the muddy ground, as drenched ferns brushed against my jeans. 'You sure Sara will be okay?' I asked.
Tommy stopped and looked at me, we were alone. No one could hear us unless they really wanted to. 'If she was anyone else would you ask me that?'
I didn't need to say anything for Tommy to know the answer. 'She reminds you of her, doesn't she?'
'Okay, moving on,' I said and walked further into the forest.
'Nate,' Tommy said as he caught me up.
I spun on him, unwilling to have the conversation go any further. 'No, drop it. Now.'
