22. A Call to Unite Them

Panicked voices filled the air. People were yelling, echoing across the room. Morgan’s ears were ringing. His whole body ached as if someone had sucked every ounce of magic and energy out of him. He fought to open his eyes, the light causing them to burn and his head to throb.

“We need to move!Now!” Daphne’s voice demanded from across the room.

“Move where, Miss Davis?” an unfamiliar and condescending feminine voice asked, “You’re not even certain this was Abernathy, let alone where he might have fled to. While I understand your specific brand of surveillance is quite effective, your trail led us to the exact same location you sent us to last time! Which I can assure you is a dead end!”

“Then you missedsomething!” she roared, “He took Aaron, and House Fell is going! With or without you!”

Aaron.

Morgan’s gut clenched as the events that put him here came shrieking back.

Get your ass up. Now.

“He is a common, Miss Davis,” another voice, low, rasping and more familiar, said with disgust, “and while Master Fell might-”

“That’s Ancient Fell!” Shane spat, correcting them in a furious tone Morgan had never heard from the man.

The word sent a wave of raucous conversation through the room. Theresa tried and failed to quiet the rabble as it reached a full-blown bluster. More yelling, some accusing the Fell Coven of secrecy and sedition, others claiming that Morgan was unstable after the scene he caused earlier. The occult community filled the ballroom, and they were at each other’s throats. Theresa lifted her hands, ready to mute the entire room.

The crowd screamed as the lights above the room exploded, showering them with sparks. A group of witches were sent running as the stage lighting crackled and burst. The room went dark.

Violet flames blazed across the tapestries without consuming them, casting an eerie glow throughout the ballroom. Morgan stood at the top of the staircase, eyes dancing, livid with magic. The shadows behind him swelled, unworldly and wicked in the light of the flames. “I welcomed you into my home,” he spoke in a low growl, resounding through every corner of the space, “I doted upon you with drink, food, and revelry. I pledged myself in service to your community. And when I need you most, you would bicker amongst yourselves?” Every eye in the room was wide with fear. “You would dare question my coven? My loyalty?” he roared, causing the flames to swell and those present to cower backward, “My BELOVED?”

No one said a word. The only sound was the violet fire flickering as Morgan heaved furious breaths. “Aaron Jones is so much further from common than anyone in this room. My apprentice speaks for me. We are going. With, or without you. With or without permission.” His coven, Gwen included, strode to meet him at his back, and he glanced over his shoulder. “You’re sure the trail led to the same place?”

Daphne nodded, staring down the entire occult community.

“Gear up,” Morgan growled, “Take Gwen with you to the armory. Meet in the garage in five.”

“Be there in three, boss,” Shane said, scowling across the ballroom before they all turned on the spot to leave.

“Hestia, dear,” Theresa called to someone in the room, “Head back to the estate with everyone. Arm yourselves.” She turned to meet Morgan’s eyes. “The Hawthorne Coven rides with House Fell.”

Morgan felt a wave of affection for the woman as she pushed toward him through the crowd.

“House Balen as well!” a woman called from the masses, and he saw squat, little Agatha shoot him a wink before vanishing alongside several other witches.

“As does House Masters!” Dawson, the middle-aged man on the Council fond of bowler hats yelled from the floor.

Before Morgan could utter his thanks, eight houses had come to their aid. The remainder of the witches present began to teleport from the room, some to prepare, others choosing not to fight. He caught sight of the Cranelys having a heated argument in the corner. Mister Cranely’s face was more flushed than Morgan had ever seen.

“He just gave our daughter back her magic, Reginald!” Missus Cranely yelled loud enough for everyone to hear, “I am going! Go home to the children and stay there if you insist on being such an insufferable coward!”

Mister Cranely sputtered for a moment before teleporting away, still stammering as he vanished.

Theresa stepped up to Morgan’s side. “You have a plan?”

“Get to the spot Daphne pinpointed. I’ll tear the whole street apart if I have to,” Morgan growled, “Theresa… some of these witches are just kids.”

Theresa shook her head. “Basic combat training is part of their curriculum, you know that. This city would eat them alive without it, and they know the risks. Besides, how old were you when you first rode into battle?”

“Fifteen,” he sighed, “Saxon invasion. I’m not about to uphold Uther’s standards, though.”

“They’re all young adults and it’s their decision to make.” Theresa gripped his shoulder. “The Occult Community of Etna has never come together like this before, Morgan. I would hate to be the man in our crosshairs.”

Three minutes later, Morgan was racing across the city on his bike as Shane blazed behind him in the van with the rest of his coven. As they turned a sharp corner, the wail of police sirens echoed through the street, bouncing off nearby buildings.

“Seriously? Now you assholes feel like doing your jobs?” Morgan hissed.

“Morgan, we got company!” Daphne called over the radio.

He was about to call back to tell them to swerve so he could blow the tires, when a loud engine roared somewhere off the main road. Headlights flooded the street behind them, followed by the sound of an aggressive collision and the twisting of metal.

“You okay back there? What the hells was that?” he yelled.

“YEEEEEEAH! TAKE THAT, FUCKERS!” an unhinged growl of a voice cheered over the sound of the blazing engine.

“Uh. I think that’s House Jenkins,” Daphne called back, “Glad they’re on our- What the damned hells?”

“Daph?” Morgan shouted, “Daph, what’s going on?” A few seconds of silence passed. “Daph!”

“Um, Morgan, Glimmer just joined us in the van!”Gwen said.

Morgan took a deep breath, only partly in relief. “Oh, luxe. My shadow-hopping cat has developed FOMO.”

Their small caravan whipped around another turn, leaving Lancashire Boulevard, and Morgan reached deep. He could still feel Aaron’s connection to him, but it was far. Further than it should be if this was where they had taken him. Panic swelled in his gut, sweat beading across his skin at the terrifying thoughts of what might be happening to the other half of his heart while they drove, uncertain of their destination. He had to trust Daphne. There had to be something here.

The street was abandoned. Caved in storefronts that had gone out of business long before Morgan arrived in the city lined the asphalt. Several dilapidated, electric charging stations covered in graffiti were scattered here and there. Nothing pulled him in any certain direction. His bond felt like a compass spinning out of control.

Highway 17 loomed ahead, and he considered turning back for another scan when something grabbed his attention. It wasn’t a pull like he’d felt from Aaron the day of the warehouse explosion, but magic ran through him like a small breeze on a hot day. The engine of his bike quieted as he approached what was nothing more than a vacant lot of dirt and debris.

Morgan leapt from the bike, dropping it on its side into the dirt before scanning the area. The van screeched to a halt behind him, kicking up dust. As his companions leapt down through the sliding doors, Glimmer gracefully padded to the ground and plopped onto her side to roll in the dirt. A massive truck littered with odd paintings on lifted tires, fitted with a spiked grill pulled in beside the van.

“Thanks for the assist back there, friends!” Shane called over as three rather dirty looking witches dropped from the vehicle, inclining their heads in a jerked bow.

“Hey, no problem!” the driver, a scruffy looking young man in overalls and no shirt, called back, “Sorry we didn’t make it to your shindig! We’re not much for fancy-dos. Theresa called us up, said we got a law breaker to catch! Now that’s a party for us Jenkins boys!”

Morgan ignored them, too concerned for Aaron to bother with pleasantries as he continued picking apart the lot.

Frey approached cautiously from behind. “I feel him, Morgan.”

He whipped back to them. “Where? Is he close? I’m getting something, but it’s faint.”

They shook their head. “He’s here... but he’s not.”

“Not the time for riddles, Frey!” Morgan growled, putting a sad look on their face with a flinch, “I’m sorry... I didn’t mean to- I’m-”

“I know,” they said, clutching his arm in an attempt at comfort, “I understand.” They glanced around the lot. “I think he was here, but then he wasn’t. I can feel his fear and his sadness-” They cocked their head to the side, their already large eyes swelling wider. “His sadness... for you.”

That set something off inside of Morgan. He roared, releasing a pulse of energy, and casting a storm of dust through the barren space. He clenched his fists at his side, gritting his teeth as the others shielded their faces. More vehicles were arriving. People were shouting through the dirt as it settled, chattering behind him over the sound of doors opening and closing. Glimmer came scurrying over to Morgan, rubbing against his ankles with a chirp.

“I have to find him, Glim,” he whispered, “I can’t lose him again.”

Glimmer gave a short meow before darting away to paw at a patch of earth.

“Morgan... there’s nothing here,” Gwen said in a hushed tone as her hand curled into his.

Those behind him were getting back into their vehicles, discussing spreading out to search. Cars revved with the start of their engines. Morgan set his jaw. He tried with all his might to sense Aaron, but nothing came beyond that faint echo. His friends were approaching from all sides. They were losing time. They were in the wrong place, and Morgan was coming unraveled.

Glimmer meowed again, urgently and demanding this time.

Morgan looked out to her from the corner of his eye. She pawed at the same spot, now aggressively kicking up dirt. She mewed and chittered like a common house cat might at a bird outside the window. Morgan released Gwen’s hand and went to fetch the feline, afraid to leave her alone. As he knelt to collect her, she leapt aside, dodging him to continue her digging.

“Glimmer, what the actual f-” Words failed him as he stared at the ground. The cat had revealed part of something metallic, and in the center, barely visible beneath the dirt, was a pulsing rune. “Glimmer, move.”

She meowed indignantly, but obeyed, resting on her haunches to the side.

“Morgan?” Daphne called, “Everyone’s leaving.”

“Stop them!” he yelled over his shoulder. He threw his hand out with a blast, displacing dirt into the air, and a loud thunk rang out across the lot. With a wave of his hand, the dust wafted away, revealing a large metal dais embedded in the earth, carved with hundreds of softly glowing runes.

Morgan turned to Glimmer. “You... are getting all of the treats when we get home.”

The cat rolled onto her back, purring and adding to the dirt already caking her fur.

“What the hells is it?” someone whispered as the covens drew in behind him.

“Rune-tech... powered by stolen human essence,” Morgan said, crouching to examine the device. He recognized several runes, but many of them seemed to have been bastardized in one way or another. He was able to make out space, move, bind, and ground.

“Morgan.” Theresa had arrived. “Everyone’s here, do we have a- what in the gods’ names is that?”

“Definitely Abernathy’s work,” he said, getting to his feet, “This is why we couldn’t find him. His idea of magic isn’t something we can sense like normal spellwork. It’s an artificial anchor.”

“Ta where?” one of the Jenkins boys called.

Morgan looked at Frey. “Frey and I both feel Aaron from here, but he’s... far away. Further than the city outskirts.”

Frey nodded grimly. “The dead place.”

“Theyre in the wastes.” Morgan turned to the witches at his back. “Ill scout ahead. Wait here.”

“Oh, hells no,” Daphne scoffed, joining him at his side.

Morgan rolled his eyes as Theresa nodded to Daphne, following them onto the platform. Something clicked, shifting like clockwork beneath their feet, and the dais glowed brightly. The next second, their faces burned, sand whipping through the air on gales that rode the endless dunes stretching as far as the eye could see. Morgan threw up a large, spherical shield, surrounding the three of them, and the blistering storm quieted.

“Every group that comes through is going to need someone with a shield,” Daphne said, “We’ll have to go back and coordinate.”

Morgan nodded once. “Both of you go. I need to get our bearings.”

“Morgan you can’t-”

He interrupted her with a look. “Go.”

She huffed, “Please don’t do anything stupid!”

“No promises,” he snapped, “Now hurry, we need to get moving.”

Theresa and Daphne stepped back through, casting wary glances at him before vanishing. Morgan tugged at his bond to Aaron. He felt him. Fifty meters or a kilometer away, he couldn’t say, but he was there, somewhere in the distance. “I’m coming, Aaron. I’m coming to get you.”

“Mor... gan?”

His heart shot into his throat. He turned, whipping back and forth on the spot. “Aaron?”

“Morgan... you’re here...”

He darted up the nearest sand dune, staring out into the wastes. He reached out, trying to sense any nearby life. There was nothing. No one.

A jolt ran up his spine.

Aaron wasn’t within earshot—he was in his head. Their thoughts were being carried along their tether like radio waves through the air.

“Aaron! I’m coming! We’re all coming for you!”

“I feel you... Morgan, they injected me with something... I can’t... move...”

“I’m getting you out of there! I promise!”

“I know... I know you will... Morgan... there’s so many... so many of those things. Dregs, he called them... the zombies... I saw them...”

“We can take them, just... Aaron, baby, please... please hang on!”

“You... you called me ‘baby’...”

“I’ll call you that every single day, I swear it! Just please hang on!”

“Morgan... I... I love-”

“Don’t! Don’t you dare say that to me until you can say it to my face! You hear me, Aaron Jones?”

Morgan bit his lip hard, drawing blood, his eyes welling over at Aaron’s almost declaration. The dais glowed brightly at the base of the dunes, and the others came through in waves, all shielded with barriers in different hues.

“Aaron?”

“I’m here... please hurry... I’ll... tell you then...”

He didn’t need to be told twice. Amplifying his voice with a spell, he called to the others to follow. Daphne dropped her shield, stepping into Morgan’s barrier with Shane at her side.

It had been years since he had traversed this brutal landscape, only returning once after the trek from his tomb in his efforts to locate the lost library. Their feet sank deep into the sand with every step as they pressed ahead, threatening whatever time they had left to reach an unknown destination. Morgan’s frustration overwhelmed him, Aaron’s words ringing in his head, the desperation in his voice driving him to madness. He came to a sudden halt.

“Morgan?” Shane called.

“I heard him-” he choked, “I heard Aaron in my head. Somehow my link to him it-”

“We’ll find him.” Daphne grabbed his shoulder. “We’ll get him back.”

Morgan released a breath, and he pressed magic into the sand beneath his feet. The sand shifted, rearranging itself, collecting and compacting until forming a solid surface. He stepped lightly, finding the ground firm beneath his feet. He broke into a run, the spell moving ahead of him to create a path as he went, Shane and Daphne panting behind. With a glance over his shoulder, he saw their small army bolting along with them, deeper into the wastes.

Dune after dune of sand rose and fell with their rapid steps. The chill of frigid moonlight nipped at his skin but did nothing to slow him. The blood pulsing through him at his determination to reach Aaron, to rip apart the man that had taken him in a way that would send a message to the rest of the city—the world—granted him strength like no amount of magic ever could.

The hills of sand leveled. Through the sandstorm and the night, the shadow of a large, crumbling structure faded against the black sky. Morgan reached for his tether. Aaron was here. This was their destination, their battlefield.

He spoke at a normal volume as they approached, weaving magic into his words, causing them to drift on the wind so that those behind would hear as they passed.

“I received a warning from Aaron. I can’t explain now, but it sounds like we’re expected. Be prepared for a fight. There’s an army of dregs waiting; the soulless bodies controlled by Abernathy. You won’t be able to kill them as you would a human. Take off their heads or obliterate them. They’ll keep attacking otherwise.

“Expect more anti-witch tech. The device he used on the roof paralyzed us and suppressed our magic. If you see a piece of rune-tech, destroy it on sight. It will take damage like any piece of metal equipment would. Blast it, disassemble it, or melt it. Keep your shields at the ready. Watch each other’s backs. If the worst happens... get yourself to safety.”

Morgan considered his next words carefully. These people were risking their lives for him and Aaron. They already knew he was an Ancient. They deserved the whole truth.

“You’re all here, not only to defend our community and our city, but to help me save someone so very precious to me. I will never truly be able to repay you for that, try as I might, but you deserve the truth about what you’re fighting for—who you’re fighting for.”

Daphne gasped behind him. “Morgan, are you sure?”

He gave her a confident nod over his shoulder, took a deep breath, and continued, “My name... is Morgan le Fay. I am not the person this world remembers. I was locked away for centuries. I came to this city with almost no idea who I was. I hid in the shadows. I taught the people of Etna to fear me and... I would give anything to take that back.

“I exist here, in this age, in this city, because I loved. I loved the man we’re here to take back. I ruled a kingdom beside him, helping to build a land of peace, of joy, and of shelter. Aaron Jones is, by my hand, the reincarnation of Arthur Pendragon—my king, my friend, and my whole world.

“I am truly sorry to have misled you. If you cannot fight beside me with this knowledge, I vow that I will not hold it against you. If you choose to stay… then I pray the gods keep you.”

As he finished, they came to a stop at a large concrete barricade that spanned the building, and he turned, expecting to see that their numbers had thinned. Their allies approached, and his heart swelled in his chest at the sight of nothing but determined faces, smiling in awe and nodding his way. The shields began to merge into one another, forming a large, glittering barrier as their magic coalesced.

“That was quite the speech, Morgan. One might think you’ve done this sort of thing before,” Theresa called from the front of the crowd, “I believe I speak for us all when I say, let us be rid of this envious wretch!”A roar of agreement rose from behind her.

Morgan’s eyes lit bright in the darkness as he turned from them with a grin, thrust his hands forward, and punched a massive hole straight through the concrete.