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“If Morgana reacquires the Doomsday Diary, she’ll embark on centuries of suffering and torture. But if my vision comes true, and Mathias manages to steal it—”
“More of the same?”
“With an excess of rape. At least consider it. Please,” he mutters.
I grunt and follow him to his vehicle, reluctantly sliding into the sports car and clenching my fists. God’s balls, I hate these contraptions. Where is a fine steed when I have need to travel from point A to point B? Since Bram’s driving would give even the stoutest warrior a heart attack, I buckle my seat belt.
He raises a golden brow. “You can’t die. Why bother?”
“You do not drive a great deal, do you?”
“No,” Bram admits wryly. “I prefer teleporting.”
“It shows.”
He tosses back his golden head and laughs. “Two jokes from you in one day. I might pass out from the shock.”
“Unfortunately, you will recover.”
After the engine roars to life, the strains of a harsh alternative rock song shake the interior. A raspy-voiced male grinds out a suggestive chorus that makes me wince as Bram drives away from the curb in not just any car, but a red Ferrari 296 GTB. Nothing subtle about magic’s golden boy.
“’Tis a very elaborate vehicle for someone who loathes driving.”
“When I must, why not do it in style?”
“You can appear and disappear at your leisure. Why own a car?”
“When I need to take a certain taciturn immortal to London, does he want me teleporting him?”
“By God’s blood, nay!”
Bram grins. “Besides, humans get agitated when we pop in and out. Not a great way to keep magickind a secret…”
“Can you turn down that racket?” I gesture to the sleek car stereo.
He scowls. “The music rocks.”
“It makes my head pound. How can you think with that shouting rattling about your ears?”
“You’re such an old man.” Bram turns the volume down—a little.
At a red light, he levels me with a stare of such gravity I’m instantly on alert. “Mathias’s resurrection is coming. We must take action. The MacKinnetts are certain I’m manufacturing Mathias’s return for my own political gain and that being Privileged means no one would dare harm them.”
Such arrogance is mind-boggling. “Do they not care about the girl, Auropha?”
“Oh, they care very much. Upon her transition, she is to mate with Tynan O’Shea. The very advantageous alliance will unite the offspring of two Councilmen and cement a powerful voting block.” His tone sounds less than thrilled.
Arranged marriages are hardly a new concept. In Camelot, most of wealth married for money and power. I should hardly be surprised that magickind is the same. “Will this voting block work against your interests?”
“It may make passing necessary resolutions more difficult.” Gunning the sleek vehicle, Bram screeches away from the green light. “Let’s focus on the book. Our most important task is to protect it. Magickind, perhaps even mankind, is at stake.”
Of course Bram throws in my race, too, hoping to give me a personal stake—and a reason to care—about his crusade. Tricky sod…
“The possibility of Mathias returning is troubling. However, if ’tis information about the book you seek, ‘Ms. Gray’ will know far more than anyone. But be careful. Morgana’s magic is not to be trifled with. Then again, could the same not be said of yours?”
“I can’t thwart a millennia-old power alone, and I’d rather not tangle with Morgana. My grandfather’s dealings with her would predispose her to dislike me. And as his writings point out, she is one scary bitch.”
So Merlin’s pedigreed grandson fears Morgana, too? ’Tis hardly a comfort. Would that I had never lain with that she-devil…
