The Eighth Day (11 page)

“Why did we need to go in and out of it?”

“To monitor the Kin imprisoned there. Can I see your honor blade?”

Jax frowned, unhappy to hear Evangeline called a
prisoner
again, but he opened the ornamental wooden box without comment.

“May I?” He handed her the knife, and she ran her fingers down the length of the blade and over the engraved
hilt. “This is not a very old blade,” she said. “And it hasn't seen a lot of use.”

“Does that make it no good?”

“It's easier than starting with a new one, because your father used it before you.” She reached for Jax's arm again, turning his hand over to look at his wrist. “Your mark has a bald eagle, but your father's blade has a falcon.”

Jax leaned in to take a closer look at the bird on the hilt of the dagger. “I guess A.J. likes bald eagles better. Does it matter?”

Melinda shook her head and clucked her tongue. “He's been told before not to get creative with something as important as this. But they're both birds of prey, and your talent doesn't seem affected. Do you have a sheath for the dagger?” When Jax shook his head, Melinda returned it and said, “Get one. You can't keep it in a box on a shelf and expect it to work for you. It has to be worn.”

That was exactly where his father had kept it—in a box on a shelf. But Jax didn't tell her that for fear she'd think his dad didn't know what he was doing. “I can't wear it to school,” he pointed out instead. “They'd expel me!”

“Not to school. But everywhere else—and always on the eighth day. A long time ago, honor blades were used to draw blood to strengthen one's magic, but there's a dark element to that, and honorable people don't do it anymore. The blade is mostly symbolic now.”

“Well, that's a relief!” Jax exclaimed.

“Holding the blade while using your magic intensifies the effect because it bears the symbols of your bloodline. It's not absolutely necessary to have your blade in your hand to perform magic, but if you want to be sure your talent is used precisely and effectively, the honor blade will help. Something else that enhances magic is strong emotion. You've heard stories of frightened mothers lifting a car off a child?”

“Adrenaline,” said Jax.

“Magic,” corrected Melinda. “Adrenaline makes your heart race. Magic lifts the car. Rage is also powerful. Ancient warriors consumed a drug that brought on uncontrollable rage, and in the berserker state their magic protected them. Even loyalty toward one's liege can be powerful.”

“Who gets to be a liege lord?”

“Technically, you can swear your allegiance to anyone you're willing to follow, but in practice it tends to be people with powerful talents.” Melinda smiled ruefully. “No one's going to follow a sensitive. But as an inquisitor, you might build your own clan someday.”

That didn't sound appealing at all—being in charge of a bunch of people. “Why are you sworn to Riley?” Jax blurted out. “Is it rude to ask that?”

“Not at all. My mother was sworn to Riley's father, and
I
was sworn to him, too. When he died, I didn't hesitate to swear to his son. Did it right at Riley's hospital bed, in fact.”

“What do you mean? Why was Riley in the hospital?”

Melinda hesitated. “He was hurt pretty badly in the explosion,” she said finally. “The one that killed his family. Didn't he tell you?”

Jax shook his head, feeling his mouth go dry. Riley hadn't mentioned he'd been present when his family was murdered—or that he'd almost been killed too.

“It happened at an engagement party for his sister.” Melinda's face was grim. “He lost his entire family and most of his family's vassals.”

An engagement party. That was . . . beyond sick.

Seeing the expression on his face, Melinda rose from her chair and changed the subject. “Come into the living room and we'll try out your talent.”

Jax followed her and sat on the sofa while Melinda lit candles to brighten the room. Jax squirmed. Candles made the whole thing seem more witchy. “Calling on your talent is a matter of intention,” Melinda said. “You have to learn how to turn it on and off, otherwise people will spout answers every time you ask a question.”

“Like I don't have to obey Riley every time he tells me to do something,” Jax said. “Only sometimes.”

“Riley's talent is called the voice of command. With practice, you'll be able to tell when he's using it—even if it's directed at someone else. For someone newly transitioned like you, it's more common for your talent to
fail
than to use it accidentally. But Riley says you're an
exception, which suggests you're pretty strong.” Melinda sat beside him on the couch. “We've got no one else to try this on, so you're going to ask
me
a question, and I'll see what it takes to fight you off.” She gave him a lop-sided smile. “Feel free to make it a personal question.”

Like what?
Jax's cheeks burned with embarrassment. To avoid her eyes, he looked at his dagger and ran a thumb over the symbols on the crest: the eagle and the flames, the eye in the center of a scroll. He could ask her why she didn't tell her husband about her magic and the eighth day. But he didn't really want to know that. Instead his mind was connecting dots and groping for what was missing to complete the picture.

The Pendare family had been killed off in a massacre, leaving Riley the sole survivor. His father's remaining vassals had sworn their loyalty to Riley even though he was just a kid, and Jax's father had turned to him for help. Riley deliberately camouflaged his family crest with other tattoos. It didn't seem like he was smart enough to remember the date the gas bill was due, but he quoted stuff from Einstein's theory of relativity and used words like
chivalry
. And when Jax told Evangeline Riley's name, she'd smiled as if he'd said something amusing.

Is that what they're calling themselves these days?

“What's the real name of Riley's family?” Jax asked.

Melinda lurched on the sofa. She clapped one hand over her mouth as if to prevent the answer from popping
out, and her eyes widened.

But Jax barely noticed. He stood up without meaning to, almost like he'd been pulled to his feet, and crossed the room to a built-in bookcase beside the fireplace. His hands plucked an old Encyclopedia Britannica off the shelves, selecting one specific volume without any conscious decision on his part. His head buzzed, and his fingers guided him to the page he wanted as if he'd known all along which one it was.

He wasn't as surprised as he thought he should be. He guessed, in some part of his brain, he'd noticed all along. All this talk about the Lady of the Lake and Merlin—and there was one person nobody had mentioned. It was a glaring omission, now that he thought about it—as if everyone had deliberately avoided saying the name.

Jax looked down at the encyclopedia entry for King Arthur Pendragon.

“Holy crap.”

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

..................................................................

MELINDA CONFIRMED IT.
Riley
—the same Riley who left toothpaste all over the bathroom sink—was descended from King Arthur.

“It's been more than a hundred generations.” Melinda took the encyclopedia from Jax and looked at the illustration of Arthur accepting a sword from a beautiful woman. “But the Pendragon bloodline is well documented. As is that of the Dulacs. That would be
du lac
, Jax. French for ‘of the lake.'”

“You mean Niviane?”

“The Dulac family is very powerful, and very dangerous. We're convinced they're responsible for killing the Pendragons.” Melinda closed the encyclopedia and slipped it back on the shelf. “I've never seen an inquisitor get his answer from a book before.”

“Why would Dulacs kill Pendragons? Weren't they allies? King Arthur and the Lady of the Lake?”

“Two thousand years ago, yes. But today's Dulacs are little better than crime lords. Their clan leader has her fingers in everything from real estate fraud to government contract fixing, and I don't know how many politicians she's manipulated with her magic. Riley's father thwarted her whenever he could. He always objected when Transitioners used their talents to manipulate Normals for monetary gain, and the Pendragon name held a lot of weight with the Table.”

“The Table?” Jax repeated. “You don't mean—”

Melinda's lips twitched with the hint of a smile. “Yes, there still is a sort of Round Table—a council of the highest Transitioner lords. I don't know if it's actually round, and it's probably located in an executive boardroom somewhere.”

“These Transitioner lords . . .” Jax still felt the buzz of magic in his head as he pieced it together. “They're the same Welsh lords Mr. Crandall said cast the Eighth Day Spell? Well, not the
same ones
, obviously, but descendents of those guys?”

“Yes, Jax. And you probably know those ‘Welsh lords' better as the Knights of the Round Table.”

Jax slapped a hand to his head. How could he
not
have seen that coming?

“Riley could claim a seat at the Table if it was safe for him to come out of hiding. But the Crandalls and I don't think it is. Without Riley's father appealing to their honor
these past several years, too many Transitioner clans have ended up in the pockets of Ursula Dulac.” Melinda gripped Jax's arm. “Nobody can know one of the Pendragons survived. Ursula would have him killed.”

“I won't tell,” Jax assured her.
Who would even believe me?
“Maybe he should've changed his name more.”

“We told him that, but he was thirteen and stubborn . . . and grieving.”

Jax groaned. “I couldn't even learn Washington's generals for history class. Now I've got to keep these clans straight?”

“You want a cheat sheet?” Melinda picked a child's crayon drawing off the floor and turned it over to the blank side. With a colored pencil, she drew a line down the center of the paper and labeled the two columns
Transitioners
and
Kin
. “A lot of people participated in the casting of the Eighth Day Spell, but there were three who took on the main roles in the ceremony: Niviane of the Lake, who conceived of the spell and brought everyone together; Arthur Pendragon, with his voice of command; and Merlin Emrys, the spell caster.” She put the first two names under
Transitioners
and Merlin under
Kin
, then added stars beside their names. “Riley is descended from Arthur, of course, and the Dulac family from Niviane.” She drew arrows connecting the ancient names to their modern counterparts.

“Okay,” Jax said, following her so far.

“Arthur's knights were present, as well as a few other prominent leaders of the time. Their participation lent strength to the spell and bound all their descendants as Transitioners, with the ability to move between the timelines. You've met Deidre, right? She's descended from Morgan LeFay. Miller is descended from Sir Owain.” Melinda added those names to the chart.

“I haven't met Miller.”

“I know,” Melinda replied without offering any additional information.

Jax was tempted to try his talent again, but there were other things he wanted to know about more than the mysterious Miller. “What about you—and me? Who am I descended from?” He hoped it was one of the knights.

“That's trickier,” Melinda said. “After all this time, family lines get blurred. There are intermarriages, and talents evolve and change under the right circumstances. But, there was a noblewoman named Elaine of Astolat present, and she was a sensitive, so it's very likely my family branched off from her line.” Melinda drew a diagonal line from Elaine, like the branch of a tree, and wrote her family name, Llewelyn. “The Crandalls may have branched off from Sir Lucan, who was an artisan. And you, Jax, probably branched off from Sir Agravain, an inquisitor.”

Agravain. He sounded cool. “What about the Kin? Is there only Merlin?”

“No. The Kin are a race of people—very fair in complexion and hair, with eyes bluer than any you've ever seen. Merlin was the only Kin present at the spell casting, but there were other Kin families we counted on as allies. Notably, the Taliesins and the Corras. I don't know if the Corra family still exists, but the Taliesins do and occasionally still help us.” Melinda added those names. “But our main adversaries were these powerful Kin clans, along with all their vassals and branch-off families.” Under a line labeled
Adversaries
she listed:
Llyr, Arawen, Wylit
.

“Do they still exist?” asked Jax.

“Their descendants do, but the very worst of them are detained in a prison, even inside the eighth day.”

“The
descendants
of these bad guys,” Jax repeated, to make sure he understood. These Kin were imprisoned in the eighth day and then imprisoned
inside
the eighth day—for things their ancestors had done. It didn't sit right with him, and it reminded him of who was missing from the chart. He picked up the pencil, drew an arrow from Merlin Emrys, and added
Evangeline
.