“Maybe you need a bit of incentive.” Katar darted toward Atlas and Ward where they were scrubbing the floor. Neither man was happy with their task, but they were going along with it for now. Without warning, Katar picked a book off the table, and wacked Ward over the head, dropping him like a stone.
“Atlas!” Morgan dashed forward, knowing she wouldn’t reach him in time.
Atlas jolted to his feet at her shout, reaching for the blade he normally kept at his waist, but clutching nothing but air.
Katar reached into his pocket, but it wasn’t until he lifted his arm that she saw a syringe big enough for a dinosaur clutched in his hand. Atlas twisted, knocking the book away from Katar, but didn’t move fast enough to dodge the needle’s descent. Instead of stabbing his arm, Katar sank the needle deep into Atlas’s chest.
They were only inches apart when recognition sparked in Katar’s eyes.
“I remember you, impetuous boy. You tried to steal the power of Tartarus. We broke the seal. It was supposed to be ours.” Katar ripped the syringe out of Atlas’s shoulder and flung it to the floor.
Pure hatred blazed from Atlas, and he grabbed the old elf by the front of his robes and hefted him off his feet. “You broke the seal? And for what? Some foolhardy attempt to steal power you had no hope to contain? You not only murdered my team, but thousands of others, when you released this cursed fog.”
“How was I supposed to know they were bloody clever enough to booby-trap the seal?” Katar snarled in frustration, completely unconcerned at the threat Atlas posed. “We went there to finally destroy Tartarus and—”
“You wanted power.” Atlas paled and staggered, dropping Katar as he clutched his shoulder, his face twisting in pain.
With a smirk, Katar said, “After years of trying, we finally managed to breach Tartarus, but that was when the fog began to fill the area. It killed the others, but I managed to survive. It was stalking me when you and your team arrived.” He frantically searched the corners of the room, as if expecting the mist to worm its way between the stones. “The fog has been hunting me ever since, but I’ve been smart, disguising myself.”
Morgan suspected he hadn’t escaped punishment completely. While he might not have been infected by the fog, the power he tried to steal had been so strong it scrambled his brains.
“Instead of helping us stop the spread, you ran like a coward while the fog decimated my men.” Atlas spoke through gritted teeth, then staggered, knocking a series of vials to the floor, where they shattered.
Morgan rushed toward Atlas, catching him before he toppled to the floor, and glared at Katar. “What did you give him?”
“I told you.” Katar scowled at her in frustration, as if she wasn’t very bright. “You needed incentive, so I infected him.”
“What?” Morgan’s head went light as a murderous rage surged through her veins.
“If you want the cure, you will do as you’re told. He will have a fever for a few hours. Incubation is different for everyone. He won’t change for a day or two…if he’s lucky.” Katar smiled and turned away, clearly pleased with himself, his altercation with Atlas forgotten as if it never happened. “You’re the answer to everything.”
Morgan no longer knew what to believe. The crazy elf spoke in riddles, full of half-truths and lies. She suspected he hadn’t given up his idea of breaching the seal and taking the power for himself. He wanted a new world, all right—one with him in command.
“Are you really looking for a cure or immunity?”
“Clever girl.” He bounced on the balls of his heels in excitement. “With your blood, we can find a way to bring the fog to heel. If we control the fog, we can control the realm, and people will tremble in fear of me.”
“Unless the fog destroys the realm first.”
“Bah,” he waved her protest away. “I have an army at my service, willing to do anything to save themselves or their families for a chance to receive the cure.”
Morgan ignored Katar and tugged down Atlas’s shirt. The injection site already looked angry, dark gray streaks spreading out from the center. His skin was warm, the fever already burning through him. She snatched up the glass on the ground, slashed her palm and shoved her hand against his wound.
“Don’t.” Atlas grabbed her wrists seconds before contact. “It’s too late, and you know it.”
“No.” Morgan shook off his hold. “My blood can help. You saw how the fog reacted to it.”
“Or you will end up pushing the infection through my body faster as it tries to escape your blood.”
His words hit her with the power of a blow, and she recoiled from him, unaware of the shattered glass cutting into her hand.
Remorse darkened his face. He was trying to protect her, unwilling to risk the infection spreading to her through an open wound, but he wasn’t wrong.
“Morgan—”
“I can find a cure.” She had no choice. This was her fault. She needed to find a way to keep them all alive, but she didn’t have the first clue how to go about it.
“Put this on the other one.” Metal clanked to the floor next to her, and she stared down to see a collar, similar to the one Ascher wore when she first met him.
“No.” Revulsion rippled through her at the thought of imprisoning anyone.
“Then he dies.” Katar grabbed a bottle from the shelf. As soon as he uncorked the stopper and the liquid came into contact with air, it began to sizzle. Without sparing her a glance, he began to tip the bottle over Ward’s vulnerable face.
“Wait,” she protested.
Ward had his eyes open, but he didn’t take his attention away from her. “Do it.”
She had to force her hand around the cursed collar. Ward sat, then leaned forward, willingly enslaving himself. When the metal finally clamped into place, Katar grabbed her arm and dragged her to her feet.
“Well done. Every time he tries to use his magic, he’ll receive a nasty shock. If he dares to try and harm me, he will receive a shock. If he continues to glare at me, he will receive a shock.” So saying, Katar pressed the stone pendant at his chest, not releasing it until the collar began to turn red and singe the skin around Ward’s neck, waiting for him to scream or drop to the floor and convulse from the pain.
Rage darkened Ward’s eyes until the silver disappeared, but his expression remained stoic, refusing to bow to the pain, which only seemed to piss Katar off more.
“You shouldn’t poke the bear.” Morgan stepped between them, not wanting Katar to discover the truth about Ward. “You mentioned you wanted more tests.”
Katar looked at her, shocked Ward one more time almost defiantly, then dropped the stone like a broken toy that didn’t work, clearly disappointed that he didn’t get the reaction he wanted.
“Very well. Take your shirt off.” He turned away, his boots crunching glass as he made his way toward the worktable.
Morgan’s spine stiffened, while Atlas growled and staggered to his feet, ready to tear into him. She caught his arm, then pushed him toward Ward. “Keep him out of trouble.”
Taking a deep breath, Morgan stripped down to her tank top, conscious of the various marks on her skin.
“Interesting.”
Morgan turned to see Katar studying her, the syringe resting in his hand forgotten. He began circling her, standing so close she could swear she felt his breath bathe her shoulders, making her skin crawl. It took all her control not to call her blades forward. The only thing that saved him was he very carefully made sure not to touch her.
“The last time someone tried to make me do something I didn’t want to do through those marks they died horribly.”
“Mmm-hmmm.” He answered distractedly, nudging aside the strap to her shirt. “He’s beautiful.”
The phoenix fluttered against her spine, pulling away from him, and Katar lifted his hands and backed away. “Can’t have you going boom.”
Not until I get what I want from you was left unsaid.
Katar walked away, yanking a book off a shelf, quickly flipping through the pages until he found what he wanted. He shoved the book at Ward, pointing at something on the page. “I want you to carve this sigil into her.”