The Night Everything Fell Apart (The Nephilim Book 1)(68)

The Nephil gave a thin smile. “May I mention your father’s, then? I have never, in all my years, met a fool quite like Tristan. Filled with noble ideas about freedom and self-determination. Dedicated to the shelter and protection of his human brethren. Unwilling to bind any Nephil as his thrall.” White teeth flashed. “Utterly unable to control his lover. I could never understand how your father rose to alpha status, Arthur. It reveals, I suppose, the essential weakness of the Druid line.”

“He was stronger than you.”

The Nephil’s smile broadened. “Facts say otherwise. Do you know, I very much enjoyed killing your father. Even more, I think, than I enjoyed defiling your mother.”

“You fucking bastard.”

“Do you know the most pleasurable aspect of that night? The moment Tristan’s hellfire struck Alwen. The look on your father’s face as she fell is one of my fondest memories.”

Grief and rage congealed in Arthur’s gut. White light exploded at the edges of his vision. He felt Cybele’s hand pressing flat on his back.

“Arthur,” she murmured. “Stay calm.”

“My father was aiming for you,” Arthur told the Nephil.

Dark brows shot up. The patronizing smile vanished. “You were there?”

“At the window.”

“I see.” The Nephil’s lips thinned. “Mab has much to answer for.”

“Enough,” Arthur said. “Who are you? Why did you send Jack to bring us here?”

“Did I neglect to introduce myself? How remiss of me.” He spread his arms and bowed. “I am Professor Vaclav Dusek. Alchemist.”

“A descendant of Azazel.”

“I have that honor, yes.”

“That shame, you mean.” Azazel had been the worst of the Watcher angels. Arthur’s Watcher ancestor Samyaza had wanted only to be left in peace with his human wives. Azazel, by contrast, had considered humanity an endless source of personal amusement. He’d taught the fledgling race murder, obscenity, and war. Then he’d settled back to watch the show.

Arthur called hellfire into his palms and launched it, full force, at Dusek. The twin blasts hit the Alchemist squarely in the chest. He didn’t so much as stumble, or even flinch. In fact, Arthur thought with chill foreboding, his attack hadn’t even made contact with the bastard’s body. The hellfire had come within an inch of his flesh and simply vanished.

Cybele swallowed a gasp. The sound caused Dusek’s eyes to flick past Arthur. Arthur moved to block his line of sight, but not before the Nephil’s lips curved.

“Your whore is very beautiful,” he said.

“Fuck off,” Cybele spat.

Dusek chuckled. “With pleasure, if you will join me.”

Incensed, Arthur launched a second blast of hellfire. This one didn’t even make it as far as the first. It sputtered and died halfway to its destination. Fuck.

Dusek threw back his head and laughed. “Do you truly believe you can touch me? Such innocence. But we are wasting precious time with this banter. Let us proceed to the matter at hand. I went to great lengths to bring you to Wales. I want the task done.”

Arthur scowled. “We didn’t come to Wales because of you.”

“No? Did you imagine your vision of Merlin and Nimue was a true memory? Why, of course you did. I created it most delicately, after all.”

If the ground had suddenly shifted beneath Arthur’s feet, he couldn’t have felt more off balance. “You’re lying.”

“Am I?”

Was he? The ancestral memory Arthur had been so grateful for...could it have been false after all? Could the vision have been a product of Dusek’s alchemy, rather than a glimpse into Merlin’s life? He couldn’t quite believe it. The images and the emotions had seemed so real.

But Dusek had been in Wales before he and Cybele had arrived. Arthur had no doubt that he was the foreigner who’d tainted the Spencers’ second guestroom. But that didn’t explain everything. “How did you get into this cave?” he demanded. “It’s sealed by celestial decree.”

“The same way we did,” Cybele said. “Jack brought him here. Or rather, the angel possessing the boy.”

“Clever as well as beautiful,” Dusek murmured, his eyes flicking down her body. He tapped the strange liquid disc at his chest. “The angel has returned to me now.”

“Lies,” Arthur said. “No angel would do the bidding of a Nephil.”

“It is almost frightening how little you know,” Dusek said. “However, I’ve neither time nor the inclination to enlighten you.” He swept a hand toward the island. “Merlin’s staff awaits. You, Arthur Camulus, will bring it to me.”

Arthur’s eyes narrowed. “You can’t retrieve it on your own, can you? That’s why you’ve gone through all this trouble to bring me here.”

Dusek’s expression darkened. “Merlin has set it into the rock with an unrelenting magic. A most aggravating habit of your ancestor. I suspect the staff will yield to his heir, however.”

“Maybe not,” Arthur said. “Maybe nothing can remove it.”

“If that were true,” Dusek said. “Heaven would not have sealed the cave to prevent its retrieval.”

That had the ring of truth about it. Gabriel had been desperate to prevent Arthur from entering the cave. Was Merlin’s staff Arthur’s for the taking?