The older Korrigan waved a hand behind them. “You may enter.”
So the Moon was their way inside. Was it Korrigan territory? He hadn’t heard of Korrigans marking territory so far from Avalon. Lucan could tell by the expression on Kel’s face that the dragon was equally surprised.
“Come.” The Korrigan took the female’s hand, and the pair disappeared, making Lucan wonder how their magic could remain so strong so far from their land.
“You may begin.” Maeve nodded at them, and between one second and the next, Lucan found himself within the dormant volcano.
The narrow trail in front of him wound deeper into the mountain. To the right, the ground fell away at a steep angle, a drop that would rip an immortal to shreds with the sharp rocks jutting from the ledge before dumping them onto the solidified lava hundreds of feet down.
Lucan welcomed the wraith rising close to the surface as he headed downward. Occasionally he heard one of the others, but he still hadn’t crossed paths with any of them by the time he reached the first opening that branched off from the inner volcano.
The occasional torch held complete darkness at bay, casting shadows and highlighting the occasional illegible scrawl that decorated the rock walls. Every once in a while, Lucan passed a drawing that started out looking like letters of some kind and transitioned into loops and slashes.
He paused in front of one particular symbol that tugged at his memory. He tipped his head as though he might be able to place the misshapen drawing. It was impossible to tell how old the markings were.
Was the beast responsible? Or someone else?
The sound of swords clanging echoed in the tunnel. There was no way to tell what direction it came from, but nothing indicated anyone had found anything more than each other. He needed to keep looking.
A recessed opening nearly escaped his attention. The drawing over the entrance to the almost non-existent passageway hinted at the same shape that continued to tease his subconscious.
He managed to work his way into the opening and through to the chamber on the other side. Hundreds of candles lit the space, though he could see no sign of the wax actually melting.
What might have passed for a bed—nothing more than ripped pieces of sheets tangled together like a nest—was tucked into a small alcove. The ceiling rose to a towering peak that Lucan could swear reached the outside.
Watches, hats, flashlights, wallets, camping gear, dishes and dozens of other small objects lay scattered across on side of the chamber, most of the stuff predating this century.
Only one thing stood out to him, and he knew he had to be fucking seeing things. He stepped over and around the piles on the floor, his heart rate kicking up. He picked up the chalice, his fingers closing over the jeweled stem cast aside like another piece of junk.
Impossible…
The Grail? Here?
He scanned his surroundings, hunting for any other clue that could explain how the chalice Arthur had used to make his knights immortal ended up like a hoarder’s treasure in a dormant volcano.
He tried vanishing it the way he did with his sword, but the object remained stubbornly in his hand. Magically safe-guarded?
Knowing the others would view it as significant as Excalibur, he tucked it close to his side. With his hand curled tight around the hilt of his sword, he skirted the perimeter of the chamber, slipping into another tunnel on the other side.
Lucan could hear the sound of another confrontation ahead of him. Leaning around the column of rock, he watched Kel advance, his opponent blocked by the gargoyle’s body. Kel yelled, jerking his arm back from the blade that sliced down, splashing blood on the ground at the dragon’s feet.
Telling himself he was content to let Kel and whoever it was take care of each other, he turned back the way he’d come. He needed to find the Onyx Beast, needed to win. He took a few steps, stopped, another drawing rising up on the wall to his left.
He glanced down at the weapon in his hand, his gaze sliding over the etchings in the blade, then back to the drawings on the wall. Moving closer to the light that seemed to shrink and dance away from him, he compared the etchings on the blade and the wall.
Compelled beyond reason to turn around, Lucan backtracked to where Kel drove forward, blade meeting blade as he fought off a man a few inches taller than Lucan.
Scraggly dark hair hung in the stranger’s face, the lower half hidden by years-worth of beard that made it hard to even guess the other immortal’s age. And from the way he moved, his speed and agility marking him as a lethal predator, he had even more training than Kel. A glyph in the shape of a medallion sat square in the middle of the man’s dirt-covered chest.
Kel roared, pivoting to block the relentless blows from the stranger. The dragon managed to hold him off, going so far as to knock his attacker off his feet. The medallion glyph darkened to a black.
Hands back by his head, the stranger glanced at Lucan right before he pushed off, bridging himself back to his feet in a seamless, signature leap that made Lucan lose his grip on the Grail.
Constantine?
Chapter Fifteen
“We expected you sooner.”
Unzipping the jacket Morgana had given her, Briana watched Maeve and Aren approach. The four of them stood inside a cavern of some kind, the rudimentary altar to their right reminding Briana of something an ancient race would have used to sacrifice virgins. The four stakes, as thick as Briana’s arms, looked to be stained with blood.
Morgana merely arched a brow at Maeve’s chiding remark, but didn’t respond. “Do you have what I came for?” She held out something long and thin wrapped in fabric that neither of the gods bothered to look at.
So they had been in touch. Since Morgana had left her alone, Briana had been spinning theories, trying to fit the pieces together. This new one though, Morgana’s nonchalant behavior with two gods who likely didn’t care about her connection to Arthur, stumped her even more.
Maeve nodded. “They will be yours shortly.”
They? Briana slanted Morgana a sidelong look that had the sorceress grinning.
“She returns to the games.” Morgana curled her finger, motioning Briana closer like they were BFFs and the sorceress had the latest gossip to share.
The lines around Maeve’s mouth tightened. “Of course.”
Briana tried to keep her mouth from falling open. Just what kind of hold did Morgana have on everyone? She even thought about asking, when that icy kiss of awareness touched her neck.
Lucan?
The sorceress arched a brow, but didn’t ask what Briana sensed. Maybe she already knew. Morgana tugged the jacket off Briana’s shoulders. “I’m sure our paths will cross again.”
Briana sincerely hoped not.
Morgana straightened, flicked some invisible lint off Briana’s shoulder like a proud momma sending her cub off on her own, and winked. “Now be a good kitty and run along.”
Half expecting Maeve or Aren to intervene, Briana bolted away from the others. The second she hit the closest tunnel, Lucan’s scent intensified, and she stripped her shirt and pants off, shifting into her cat form.
Arms and legs stretching in a warm rush, she propelled herself to a run. She lost his scent twice, backtracking each time to regain it.
“Briana?”
She didn’t slow down, darting past Nessa.
Lucan was close. The increasing rhythm of her heart had nothing to do with tearing down tunnels and across one confusing as hell chamber littered with garbage and flea market rejects. She needed to see her mate with her own eyes, see that he was okay.
