Mathias had given them the mental command to fight. This was his declaration of war.
Anka screamed and braced herself for an onslaught, shoving the little bottle into her dripping jeans and whipping out the knife she’d stowed in her pocket. Magic wouldn’t kill Anarki. She was going to have to hack her way through them.
“Call them back, Mathias!” Bram ordered.
“I think not. You promised me a potion.” He turned to Anka, his stare drilling her with fury. “Give it to me or face them.”
As one, Ice, Caden, and the twins all teleported to the bank in front of the advancing Anarki, human weapons at the ready, shielding her from their advancing march. From his position at the bridge, Marrok charged toward the fight, clearly ready for battle.
The sudden clash of blades and the hoarse cries of warriors filled the night. Nervously, Anka watched the battle rage. Five soldiers with a river at their back against hundreds of Anarki. Who could survive those odds? Yes, they could employ magic—at least for now—but even then, were there too many Anarki to fight? Dread slithered through her veins.
Suddenly, Lucan was gripping her arm and putting her behind him as he watched the Anarki advance. “Go!”
A moment later, a whoosh filled the air. Anka turned, looking around for Duke and Felicia’s arrival. The Untouchable would save them from hell breaking loose or at least prevent Mathias from using more of his magic to destroy them.
Instead, a witch stood on a hill not far from the river, her flowing platinum hair shimmering in the moonlight and blowing in the chilly breeze. She wore a dress straight out of the sixth century. Her signature blared brightly like a neon sign.
“Morganna,” The name fell from Anka’s lips.
Dear God, they were doomed.
Bram had envisioned the ancient witch here, and he’d been right. What the devil would happen now? A battle of epic proportions, she had no doubt.
Mathias’s head snapped around, and he fixed narrowed eyes on Morganna’s slight body in the distance, her hair and dress flapping in the breeze. Lucan’s and Shock’s stares both followed.
This plan was quickly going to hell.
Anka shoved the potion deeper into her pocket, trying not to alert Morganna that she had the vial. But Morganna’s violet gaze zeroed in on her instantly. A gust of cold wind blew through Anka, also delivering a blast of malicious fury. The strong gale nearly dropped her to her knees. Even though she shivered, she refused to bow to Morganna’s not-so-subtle warning.
“Give me the potion, washerwoman. You owe me for the gift growing in your belly.”
“Leave, Anka!” Lucan shouted.
Teleport away. She’d promised Lucan that she would remain safe for their youngling. She must keep the potion safe, no matter what, or Morganna would plague them forever.
Anka knew that, after the huge secret she’d concealed from Lucan for so long, he needed to know that he could trust her. But if she left now, was she consigning her friends—and the mate of her heart—to die? This vial was their bargaining chip. She must decide quickly how best to use it.
“Stay here, Anka,” Bram said. “She’ll only follow you and corner you when you’re alone.”
“You don’t know that, Bram. Now, Anka!” Lucan barked. “Keep our youngling safe.”
Her mind raced. In the battle with the Anarki, Ice and Caden both withdrew their wands. She wasn’t sure why, since Anarki were immune to magic. But they must have some plan. That would help the effort, but who would fight Morganna and Mathias?
Another whoosh interrupted the scene. With a spooked glance to her left, Anka spotted Duke and Felicia standing not ten meters away on the bank of the river, near Shock.
The Untouchable would neutralize Morganna and Mathias—a relief, yes—but she would also prevent Caden, Ice, and the twins from using magic to fight the Anarki. Bloody hell! Now what? The handful of warriors had no prayer of defeating a battalion of Anarki alone. Mathias had given his brainless minions the command to fight, and they would continue to do so. Now that he could no longer use magic to command them to stand down, the only way to stop them all quickly was to kill Mathias.
“An Untouchable?” Morganna screamed suddenly.
“Anka,” Bram instructed. “It’s all right. Remember our deal. Give the bottle to Mathias.”
Now? Voluntarily approach the man who had ravaged her life, her body, her mind, and give him the tool to control magickind’s most powerful witch for his use? She glanced Lucan’s way, not surprised that he looked ready to tear his former friend’s head from his body.
Why did Bram want her to give the potion to Mathias? Because Morganna would then attack the evil wizard? Because they would be upholding their end of the bargain? Uncertain, one scenario after another whizzing around in her head, Anka played along and nodded, her insides quivering with fear.
The sounds of clanging swords and growled curses split the air. So much was happening so quickly. The outcome of a battle had never been less certain. Anka wanted to live, wanted to see her precious youngling born. Bram had a plan; she had to believe it would work.
With a shaking hand, Anka held out the potion toward Mathias. He took it from her with a greedy swipe of his hand, then shoved it in his coat pocket. His nearness horrified her, terrified her. She wanted to stand tall and brave and fight him, but memories overwhelmed her. She shrank back, a thousand flashbacks of the worst days of her existence pelting her unmercifully. All she could think about was putting as much distance between herself and him as possible.
But half of the Doomsday Brethren were fighting an army by themselves. Lucan glanced between her and his friends, clearly torn. When Caden took a blade across the shoulder, Lucan leapt into action, joining the fray.
“Anka!” he yelled, command roughening his voice. “Go!”
Save herself, he meant. Disappear. Stop dividing his loyalties and let him help the others fight the Anarki—probably to their deaths. That’s what he wanted her to do.
But she couldn’t leave all of her friends and loved ones to die.
A shrill scream split the air. Anka startled, her stomach knotted in fear as Morganna clenched her delicate fists. Fury twisted the witch’s face into a murderous visage as she belted out her displeasure. “Where hast thou come from, Untouchable? Be gone with you!”
“The Untouchable is not leaving, Morganna,” Bram shouted. “Been waiting for us to retrieve the potion, have you?”
“For centuries. ’Tis mine, you spawn of Merlin! Mathias, give it to me!”