“Who says there’s a third target?” Mordred asked. “Okay, yeah, there is, but we’ll get there in a minute.” He took a step to the right and grabbed hold of the door handle just as it was pulled in, forcing Mordred to stagger forward into a punch to his jaw.
Mordred rolled to the floor, coming back to his feet in the open area of the floor as Daria appeared. But he noticed he’d dropped his gun under the nearby cupboard.
“No powers this time,” Mordred said.
“Means I can take my time,” Daria said with a slight snarl. She dove toward Mordred, who smashed his elbow into her face, breaking her nose and knocking her over a nearby chair.
She got back to her feet, and kicked Mordred in the knee, and he dropped to the ground, rolling away to put distance between the two of them. He got back to his feet slowly, watching Daria as she removed a long, curved dagger from behind the nearby chair. She unsheathed it and wiped her bleeding nose with the back of her hand, smearing blood over her face.
“You’re not exactly right in the head, are you?” Mordred said. “And that’s coming from someone who knows that look.”
Daria screamed in rage and charged Mordred, who threw two of his knives at her, each one taking her in the chest, but she kept going, as if they’d done nothing. He drew another blade, parrying her strike, but she kicked him in the stomach and he fell back against the wall, unable to stop the cut that went across his stomach.
Daria darted back, and Mordred reached down, relieved to feel the attack hadn’t gone through the lightweight stab vest he’d taken from Hades’s quartermaster. Daria’s expression darkened, and she moved toward Mordred once again, swiping with the dagger, forcing Mordred to move along the wall as he waited for an opening.
After the fifth swipe from Daria’s blade, she overstepped her reach just a little, giving Mordred the moment to move to Daria’s side and slam a throwing blade up into her armpit. He cut down toward her ribs before twisting the blade free, then punched a second blade up into her throat.
She swiped at him with her dagger, but it was feeble, and Mordred easily disarmed her, stabbing her in the heart with her own blade and leaving her to die on the expensive carpeted floor. He noticed the six-inch cut along his forearm for the first time and cursed himself for not being quick enough to dodge her.
“You okay?” Remy asked.
“No,” Mordred said, retrieving his gun from under the wardrobe. He walked to the other side of the room and pushed open one of the doors, revealing an empty bathroom. He kicked the second door with everything he had, causing whoever was behind it to yell out in pain.
Mordred stepped into the room and kicked Viktor in the face as he lay on the floor. He looked over at Mara, who sat next to the window, staring at him with a mixture of hate and fear.
“Please don’t kill me,” Viktor said. “I did not know they’d come for me. I just wanted to be left alone.”
“I read Polina’s report. You stabbed one of her agents in the throat as you escaped. The man was forty-two years old; he had a wife and children. A wife and children you told Polina you’d kill the first chance you got.”
“Not true.”
“Don’t care.” Mordred shot him four times in the face before aiming the gun at Mara.
“You won’t kill me,” Mara said.
“Really? Because I’m almost certain I want to.”
“Can you explain that to my daughter? You like her. You know she’d hate you if I was murdered at your hand.”
“Only because I’m sure she’d like you to rot in a deep pit for the rest of your life.”
Mara smiled. “You’re an empty man, fighting on the wrong side of a war you can’t win. You’ll be running around hiding in the shadows while I stay in places like this and make bracelets for Arthur and his people to rule this realm, and then all of the others.” She raised her hands. “Shoot me. I’m unarmed.”
“Oh, shut up.” Mordred shot her in the palm of one outstretched hand. “How quickly do witches heal?”
“You fucking bastard,” Mara seethed. “I’m going to have someone cut out your fucking eyes. I’m going to heal and make bracelets just so his people can pillage those you love.”
Mordred grabbed her good hand, placed it on the table next to her, and shot her three times. “Make something now, you evil piece of shit.”
Mara collapsed to the floor, holding her heavily bleeding hands against her chest. “They’ll kill me if I’m useless.”
“Best learn to make them with your feet, then, because Gawain and his people aren’t getting any more bracelets until someone else can be trained. And then I’ll do the same to them, too. You’re the only one they have who can make these—you said so yourself in Siberia. Now he has no one.”
“This won’t stop him forever!” Mara screamed as Mordred walked toward the exit.
“No, but it’ll stop him until I can kill him.” Mordred paused. “Damn it, you’re right. I don’t want to be the person who takes your life. I like your daughter, and she doesn’t deserve to have a friend of hers kill you when she should have that privilege. But you’re too dangerous.” Mordred shot her in the head and left the room.
He made his way back downstairs and to the lift, hitting the button for the lobby. He reached the ground floor and walked across the lobby, just avoiding several armed men as they ran toward the now-empty lift.
“You’ve got quite a few people coming your way,” Irkalla said as Mordred entered the lift to the parking garage and selected the right floor.
“I’m done here. I’ll see you all back at the heliport in a few hours. I’ll make sure I’m not followed. Thanks for your help.”
“Our pleasure,” Irkalla said. “See you soon.”
Mordred removed his earpiece and exited the lift, walking through the garage to his Mercedes.
“Hello, Mordred,” a woman said as she got out of a nearby red BMW M4. She was just over five feet tall, Asian, with long hair that had been dyed a multitude of colors.
“Hi,” Mordred said. “And you are?”
“You can call me Ami,” she said with a smile. “I believe you know my friend.” She motioned toward another woman, who got out of the driver’s seat of the M4.
“Cass?” Mordred asked, his happiness at seeing her again fighting against any potential threats.
“We need to talk,” Cass said.
“About what?” Mordred asked.
“About fighting Arthur,” Ami started, “about stopping a civil war between the Norse pantheon, and about trying to save everyone you love.”
“I don’t even know who you are,” Mordred told them. “Cass isn’t an ex-soldier.”
“And Cass isn’t my real name, but I needed a reason to talk to you. To find out if you were still the monster I’d heard about, or if you genuinely had changed.”
“So, what’s your real name?” Mordred asked.
“Not important,” Cass said.
“Then goodbye,” Mordred replied, unlocking the AMG.
“Amaterasu,” Ami said.
Mordred blinked in surprise. “Okay, I didn’t expect that.”
“We need to band together if we have any hope of stopping Arthur,” Amaterasu said. “We need to see Hades, and his people.”
“I can arrange a meeting, but Cass needs to tell me who she is, too.”