“Because Morganna does not trust you at all. She wants to kill your leader. But she considers me something of a pet since I’m the one who resurrected her. I’ve let her believe that I’m helping her find the potion.”

At the end of the table, Marrok visibly shuddered, no doubt remembering his repugnant time in Morganna’s bed.

“Sorry,” Bram said without a hint of apology. “I’m not giving it to you.”

“How will you catch her off guard to give her the potion, then? Do you have another plan? I can do it in bed, as she sleeps unaware. I have ways of compelling her to swallow it.” He glanced at Shock. “If you have a better idea, let’s hear it.”

Anka didn’t understand the dangerous role Shock played as Mathias’s right-hand man or even whose side he was genuinely on, but she knew better than to dig too deep, especially now. Both he and Lucan would heartily object, and she didn’t dare do more to attract Mathias’s attention now that she was pregnant.

“I’ll concede, but I’ve got a condition of my own,” Bram grumbled. “You must follow all my rules and directives as we retrieve and administer the potion, or the deal is off. Otherwise, how do I know this isn’t simply a ruse?”

Mathias narrowed his eyes in warning. “I came to you for help, if you’ll recall. I want the bitch gone.”

No one could argue with that.

“All right. I’ll give you the potion,” Bram grumbled, as if conceding against his better judgment and will.

Anka watched, almost certain that Mathias had just fallen into some trap of Bram’s.

“Lovely. Where are we going?”

“Well, Nimue was the Lady of the Lake. We’ll start there.”

With that, everyone in the group stood. There was nothing left to negotiate. The only thing left to do was teleport to the site where Merlin had likely hidden the potion an eon ago and hope that they managed to end Morganna, contain Mathias, and all make it back alive.

Chapter Eighteen

The wizards all bid a tense good-bye to their mates, except for Sabelle, who ventured out into the twilight with them. Anka teleported with everyone to a quiet district in Somerset, near Glastonbury. The body of water looked placid, surrounded by tall willows weeping into the lush grass. An old stone bridge with three arches sat in the distance as the setting sun skipped its last few rays across the water’s glassy surface. In the distance, fog clung to the sea’s shoreline to their west.

Anka frowned, rubbing her hands up and down her arms. It was cold here. There was something about this place she didn’t like. She could almost hear past ancient battles echoing across these plains, smell the running blood sinking into the soil. Of course, Mathias being beside her didn’t help her imagination at all. Uneasiness settled deep as they reached the banks.

“This is a river,” Lucan pointed out, hovering behind her and wrapping an arm around her to lend her his body heat. “Not a lake.”

“One of the many ways Nimue kept her location hidden from others who would hunt her,” Mathias quipped. “She was quite crafty.”

A trait that had clearly passed down the line.

Shock closed in behind Anka, as well. “Need a coat?”

She shook her head.

“I know you’re cold.” Even when she didn’t look at him, she felt his agitation and concern. Poor Shock. He’d tried so hard to take care of her in every way. In the end, he still wound up alone.

“I’ll be all right.” She glanced at him over her shoulder, her expression an apology.

His face closed up, fast and tight. Clearly, he didn’t want her pity.

“Are you certain?” Lucan frowned as if he didn’t like her answer, either.

Anka tried to send him a reassuring smile. The cold she felt was deeper down, something inside. Dread. Fear. A coat wasn’t going to fix that.

“What now?” Ice demanded.

“We spread out in case Morganna arrives unexpectedly,” Bram said.

“Agreed.” Mathias snapped his fingers, and an army of Anarki appeared on the river banks. “Where shall we position them?”

“Right there works.” Bram looked ready to grind his teeth into dust. “Ice, Lucan, and Caden, get on the opposite side of the river. If we must fight Morganna, we’ll have soldiers on both banks. She’ll have to go through them to get the potion.”

“Unless she uses trickery, which she’s good at. Shock, stay with the others.” Mathias pointed toward Ice, Lucan, and Caden. “That’s the best use of your talents.”

After the four of them teleported across the river, Bram addressed the remaining members of the Doomsday Brethren. “Marrok, Sabelle, Raiden and Ronan, fan out and head for the bridge. If we have human company of any sort, they’ll likely arrive from there. Sabelle, send the others at home a text to keep them at the ready in the event we get a visit from the evil bitch, will you? They can join us, if need be.”

Sabelle pulled her phone from the pocket of her jeans and quickly tapped out a message. Anka knew that was the signal to Duke to be prepared to teleport Felicia here to surprise Mathias and contain Morganna. The next text would bring the Untouchable here.

“Splendid. Anka, Mathias, we’ll head into the water.”

Anka frowned. “Into? It’s January. That water can’t be much above freezing.”

“I expect not.” Bram eyed the water. “Can’t stay in long without using magic or dying of hypothermia. Ready?”

“Of course,” Mathias assured. “But before we wade in, do we have a spell to utter? Must we join hands or raise some magic together? What did Merlin say?”

“Nothing.” Bram shrugged. “So I’m going to guess what he intended, based on what I know of my grandfather. Mangy old coot. Half-crazy, he was, at times.”

Brow raised, Anka leveled a glance at Bram. Crazy like a fox, perhaps. Crazy like his grandson. No doubt, Bram was up to something.

Mathias smiled. “Once we’ve obtained the potion? I teleport out with it, try to find Morganna, then report back once she is dead, yes?”

Even to Anka’s ears the plan sounded preposterous. After all the evil Mathias had inflicted on them, did he really believe they were that trusting? That stupid? He must, for he smiled smugly. Anka longed to slap the smarmy smile off his face, but she managed to refrain—barely.

“Of course,” Bram returned smoothly. “Shall we?”

As they stepped up to the water’s edge, Anka shivered both from the cold and Mathias hovering so closely beside her. She looked across to the opposite bank and caught Lucan watching her intently. He might appear relaxed with his feet apart and his hands clasped in front of him, but she wasn’t fooled at all. He didn’t want her near Mathias. His big, warrior-hard body was poised for a fight, and he would leap to her rescue at a moment’s notice. Shock’s stance wasn’t much different.

Nerves dive-bombed Anka. She patted her still-flat belly. It would be months before her youngling would change the shape of her body, but life was growing inside of her. She didn’t want to do anything to risk that, but she certainly hoped they could neutralize Morganna, if she appeared. And that somehow, someway, Mathias paid dearly today for his sins. No matter how much she told herself to look to the future, that need for revenge still flickered and burned inside her.

Anka waded into the river between Mathias and Bram. The nearly freezing water quickly surrounded her up to the knees. Anka gasped, feeling the chill surge up her body and roll through her blood. Bram reached out to steady her, but she shook him off. She couldn’t look weak, or Mathias would find some way to use it to his advantage.

“I’m a-all right.”

Bram snorted. “And I’m Guinevere.”

“Nay, you wretch. Her face was much fairer than your ugly mug,” Marrok laughed as he walked to join the others on the bridge.

She, Bram, and Mathias sloshed deeper into the water until it engulfed them to the waist.

“Submerge,” Bram demanded, clenching his teeth. “Merlin would want us completely drenched in Nimue’s waters before we ask this favor.”

The task just got worse and worse. Not only did she hate the cold, but her magic simply wasn’t as strong when she was spending all her energy shivering to stay warm. A glance up at Lucan proved that he wasn’t any happier about this and looked ready to object. But she couldn’t heed it. This must be done.

Holding her nose, Anka sank under the icy waters, dousing her shoulders, face, and head. The chill seeped under her skin, all the way to her bones, as she came up with a shuddering gasp. Beside her, Mathias and Bram both emerged, looking wet and stark and determined.

“I am Bram, son of Merlin’s line. I have come to claim what he left behind.” The wizard conjured a blade and cut into his palm, allowing several drops of his blood to plop into the lake. Then he reached across her and handed the knife to Mathias, prompting him with a glance.

Memories assailed her, of the terrifying wizard clutching a knife before carving his way into her flesh, laughing as she screamed while he etched his name into her bloody skin. Pushing down her fear, she sidestepped him and drifted closer to Bram, wrapping her arms around herself for comfort.

“I am Mathias, son of Nimue’s line. I have come to claim what Merlin left behind.”

At Mathias’s uncertain expression, Bram nodded, forming a silent okay with his fingers. Mathias repeated Bram’s gesture, slicing into his palm. He curled his hand into a fist and squeezed until several drops of blood splashed into the cold, dark waters.

The two wizards both turned to her expectantly. Shivering from both cold and terror, she took the blade from Mathias and drew in a ragged breath. “I am Anka, washerwoman, daughter of a crone, mother of a maiden, come to ask the spirits to release what Merlin left behind.”

Bram smiled his silent encouragement. Cutting herself seemed barbaric and stupid, but so much of the ancient magic was tied up in blood, and she knew it would verify their identities to the spirits guarding the potion.

With a wince, she gouged her palm. Blood oozed from the wound. She turned her hand upside down, watching the slow drip of blood into the placid river, then disappearing into its depths.

Anka pocketed the knife and stood, waiting for whatever happened next. The river went utterly still, as if every creature all the way down to the moss held its breath. Quiet hushed over the land as the sun finally sank under the horizon and night enfolded them in its moonlit embrace.

Suddenly, the water rippled, starting against the banks with a gentle lapping, gradually becoming a disturbance, a choppy churn, then a violent wave that peaked over the banks. In the middle of the river, a geyser streamed, shooting high in the air in front of the three of them. The silvery moon backlit the spray, which rose higher and higher until it rivaled the towering, ancient trees around them.

Slowly, the geyser receded until it was nothing more than a tranquil fountain. At the top of the jet, a little crystal vial danced. Mathias lunged for it, but the spirits controlling the cascade delivered it right to Anka’s hands. She grabbed the little bottle, holding the chilled glass in her shaky grip.

“I’ve got it.” But what the devil did Bram want her to do now? Give it to Mathias, truly? That was the plan…but if she gave the vial to him, he would only slip through their fingers to threaten them another day, this time with Morganna by his side. Then Anka feared what they could do to her and the rest of the Doomsday Brethren.

Where was Felicia? She was supposed to be here already.

Out of the corner of her eye, she spied Sabelle surreptitiously texting, giving Duke and Felicia’s “go” signal to teleport here. Anka sucked in a breath. Hurry! Until they arrived, she had to stall.

Anka stared at Mathias. She didn’t have to work hard at all to pretend fear.

“Little witch…” Mathias tried to gentle his voice, but she saw the impatience behind his icy eyes, in the tense flick of his fingers as he gestured to her to give him the potion. Anka had little doubt that he would have taken it from her, but she could feel Bram near, watchful and ready. Mathias had to play nice. For the moment.

“Don’t come near me!” Anka shouted.

On the banks of the river, Lucan glared at Mathias in silent warning, his face full of wrath, looking like an avenger just waiting for an excuse to slaughter the stain on magickind.

“Give me the potion,” Mathias demanded.

“No!”

Mathias looked past her to the Doomsday Brethren’s leader. “Bram?”

“We agreed to give the potion to him.”

“I know,” she all but pleaded. They had agreed…but Anka noticed that Bram hadn’t actually ordered her to hand it over.

She clutched the bottle tighter to her chest.

Eyes narrowed with malicious intent, Mathias zipped his stare over to his battalion of lifeless Anarki soldiers. An instant later, the dark army, row upon row of Anarki as far as the eye could see, suddenly awoke. Like a group of zombies suddenly zapped with life, they turned and headed toward the river with menace.