His short, bitter laugh echoed through the empty room. “Intimately.”
“Then that whole claim of not meaning to hurt me was just a big lie?” she rasped.
“No, Anna Randal.” His hand lifted in what she assumed was a gesture of peace. “I am here to offer you what little protection that I can.”
“Why?” she demanded suspiciously. “Why would you want to protect me?”
“You are blood of my blood.”
Blood of my blood?
A strange surge of excitement raced through her, only to be swiftly squashed. Jeez. How pathetic was it to be excited by the thought that she might have found a long lost part of her family?
He was a blob of mist, for Christ’s sake.
“You mean that we’re related?” she demanded, her tone deliberately indifferent.
“We are more than mere relatives.” The mist stirred, as if in reaction to some strong emotion. “You are the culmination of centuries of hope and sacrifice. You are my ultimate weapon of justice.”
“Weapon of justice?” She shivered as a sudden chill lodged in the pit of her stomach at the ominous words. “I don’t think I like the sound of that.”
“Morgana must pay for her sins.”
“Sins against you?”
“I am but one of her victims, just as you are.” The mist neared, bringing with it the smell of warm, rich sage. “There have been an endless number of victims over the years. And should she ever be truly liberated from her citadel in Avalon…”
She frowned as his words trailed away. “What?”
The man hissed, shaking his head. Or at least she thought that he shook his head.
“The world will be bathed in her perversions,” he said, his voice vibrating with a fierce command. “You cannot allow such a fate.”
“Me? What am I supposed to do?”
“You possess the power to destroy Morgana.”
“Oh, no.” She gave a wild shake of her head. The ghost, or shade, or whatever the hell he was, was clearly off his nut. If Anna ever fell into Morgana’s hands she didn’t doubt the woman would bitch-slap her from one end of Chicago to the other. “I don’t. I really, really don’t.”
“You have proven otherwise by simply being alive. Morgana has gone to great lengths to be rid of you.”
Her laugh held a world of bitterness. “Good God, all I’ve done is cause one disaster after another. It’s a wonder that I haven’t managed to kill myself and everyone around me. And for your information, the only reason I’m still alive is because of Cezar, not because of any power I might possess.”
The mist seemed to still. “The vampire.”
Anna blinked in shock. “You know him?”
“I see much, even here.”
“Ah.”
Anna wasn’t sure if she should be pleased or creeped out. It was nice to think someone might be watching over her. On the other hand, the last thing she wanted was a mystical peeping tom. She cleared her throat.
“You underestimate yourself, Anna Randal.” His voice softened. “You are bred to be a champion. Your destiny is greater than even I could have imagined for you.”
Anna planted her hands on her hips. Dammit. She was tired of people referring to her destiny as if they all knew something she didn’t. And she didn’t like the thought that people were depending on her to accomplish some wondrous goal when she felt like she was drowning in the mess that was her life.
“Right now my destiny is being trapped in a filthy barn with an incapacitated gargoyle and no clue of where I am or how to protect either of us,” she gritted. “Hardly a champion.”
“You possess the power,” he stubbornly repeated. “You merely lack the ability to command your gifts.”
You think? Anna thought dryly, recalling the painful battle she had just waged with the portal.
“If you’re some sort of relative, why don’t you teach me?” she challenged.
Once again she sensed the shake of his head. “Forgive me, Anna, but my time here is limited.”
“Exactly where is here?”
A tangible sadness filled the room. “It was once my home. Now I suppose it is my tomb.”
Anna bit her lip. “I’m sorry.”
“I have accepted my fate.”
His voice was flat, but Anna suspected that he was a long way from accepting fate. He blamed Morgana for whatever had happened to him, and he intended to see her punished. Obviously using her as the weapon. Great. “Will you tell me who you are?”
The mist shifted, and Anna could have sworn that she felt the light stroke of a finger down her cheek.
“You know who I am, Anna.”
“Are you Arthur?” she husked, startled by the flood of warmth that rushed through her heart. “As in roundtables and Camelot?”
“I am Arthur, and your very distant grandfather.” The misty hand stroked down her arm and then she felt a sudden weight in the palm of her hand. “This is for you.”
Startled, Anna nearly dropped the heavy silver necklace, which held an emerald that was large enough to make Liz Taylor drool.
“What is it?” she breathed.
“A pendant that was given to me by a great sorcerer. It will allow you to focus your powers.”
She slowly lifted her gaze. “I don’t suppose it has an owner’s manual that comes with it?”
The mist moved back, halting near the arched doorway. “It was crafted to respond to the ancient magic that flows in your blood.”
With shaking fingers, she stroked the flawless jewel, mesmerized by the purity of its green fire. “Did I inherit my powers from you?”
“Yes.”
“But they didn’t stop Morgana?”
His soft sigh rippled through the air. “Treachery, not power, was my destruction, Anna Randal. You have a mind that seeks justice, but do not allow your compassionate heart to lead you to my fate.”
“But…” She hastily swallowed her words as the mist swirled and then once again she was staring into the unnerving eyes of the large wolf. “Damn.”
Cezar hissed as the clinging darkness ebbed away and the wave of pain rushed in to replace it.
His entire body felt as if it had been run over by a truck (a fully loaded cement truck), but it was the lingering ache at the back of his head that warned him that his poor skull had absorbed most of the damage.
Hardly surprising. He’d flown completely through the foyer wall before taking out a marble column. Only the fact that he was a vampire had kept him from being laid out in the nearest morgue.