Free Promise of Wrath (The Hellequin Chronicles Book 6) by Steve McHugh Page A

clouds you,” she said after a few minutes.
    “That doesn’t mean I’m able to stop it. For a long time I just wanted to save my friend; I figured no matter what he did, he could be brought back to us. Then he attacked Arthur, almost killing him. After that, I’m not interested in trying to save Mordred anymore.”
    “You want him dead.”
    “Yes. He deserves to die for what he’s done. He shouldn’t be able to hurt anyone else. Too many have already died at his hands.”
    “He hates you. I’ve never seen anyone hate as much as he does. The merest mention of your name was enough to confirm to me how much he wants you dead. I’ve rarely seen a hate as strong as that. It burns at his soul. It consumes him.”
    “You sound conflicted about it.”
    “I’m merely wondering where such a hate came from.”
    I shrugged. “I wish I knew. We were friends. I was away for a few years, traveling, learning, doing Merlin’s bidding. When I returned, Mordred was being hunted for murder. He was a fugitive, killing innocent people for no reason. He’d changed into an entirely different person from the one I’d known; he was now full of hate and evil. I’d never have thought such a change possible unless I’d seen it myself.”
    “It appears he does not like keeping allies, either.”
    “I don’t know who supports him. He turns up with different people, years apart, with no reason to it other than to hurt Avalon, me, or Merlin. Sometimes all three. There’s no pattern to it—at least none I can understand. Maybe his addled brain makes more sense of what he does. Somehow I doubt it.”
    “I searched Isabel’s home when we found her; interviewed her, too. I don’t believe she’s in a relationship with Mordred: at least no more so than the friendship he claims.”
    “You’re certain about that?”
    “Hellequin, I have people who work for me who are very good at their jobs. And I interviewed her myself, just to be thorough. There’s no sexual relationship there. It’s a dead end.”
    We reached the house and I looked up at the three-story white-bricked building while Nanshe walked off and spoke to the two guards at the front door. Both of them walked away a short distance, allowing us entry to the house.
    The interior was sparsely decorated, with some seating and a few tables but nothing to suggest that anyone lived here on a permanent basis. There were no personal items, and everything was spotless. Two guards sat on chairs near the rear of the building, playing cards. Both stood to attention when Nanshe walked past.
    “We use this building for some of our more . . . important guests,” Nanshe told me. “Sometimes you want to put someone in a place without every guard in the city knowing about it.”
    We climbed the stairs and Nanshe unlocked the door at the top, allowing us onto the floor above. It was considerably more comfortable here, with more furniture in the one massive room. A divider sat at one end, behind which I could spot the end of a bed.
    A woman stood up from a chair by the window and walked over to us. For a second I thought she might have been Isabel, as she fitted the rather pitiful description of olive skin and dark hair, but her eyes were brown, and any notion about her identity was thrown aside when she embraced Nanshe.
    “Hellequin, this is Siris,” Nanshe said, introducing me to the striking woman before me.
    “A pleasure,” I said with a slight nod of my head.
    “You’re the fabled Hellequin, shadowy hand to Merlin,” Siris said with just a touch of mockery in her voice. There was a power behind her deep-brown eyes that surprised me; it was at odds with the cool, calm exterior she presented.
    “I assume you expected me to be taller,” I said with a smile.
    Siris laughed. “I was going to say that, but I assume you hear it often.”
    “Taller, broader, able to turn into a dragon. I’ve heard a few tales, yes.”
    Siris suddenly appeared a lot more interested. “A