Knight of Darkness Read Free Page B

slide a knife into his spine than speak tohim. He liked to keep his eye on the crowd at all times.
    And speaking of, he found his gaze traveling over the angry patrons to find the gnarled crone he’d saved. She walked with a limping gait and was hunched over with a large hump on her back. Her black hair was matted and unkempt. But it was her face that bore the tragedy of her life. Scarred by the pox, she had a lazy eye and an overly large nose. Her lips were twisted and swollen, and given to so much moisture that she was constantly having to wipe them on the back of her hand. If not for the fact that she was here in Glastonbury and was so obsequious, he’d think her one of the twisted graylings who served Morgen.
    Poor thing to be stuck here with people who were so concerned with their own bitterness that they had no pity to spare for anyone else.
    “What are you doing here?”
    Varian looked back at Dafyn, who eyed him with malice…and that cut him soul deep. Centuries ago, Dafyn, who was a large, stout man with round, whiskered jowls, had owned a small tavern in Glastonbury. And as he raked Varian with a sneer, Varian remembered the first day they’d met. Varian had been seven, and his mother had just abandoned him on his father’s doorstep. Neither parent had wanted him, so he’d decided to run away and strike out on his own.
    He’d only made it as far as the tavern when, exhausted from his long hike from the castle to town,he’d sat down just beside the door. Dafyn had seen him panting there and asked him what he was doing. As soon as Varian had explained, he’d offered him work. “Well, if you’re to be on your own, lad, you’ll be needing coin. I have floors that need be swept, and I could definitely use a taster to make sure my bread is the best in town before I serve it to clients. What say you work for me?”
    Thinking that his life was about to improve greatly, Varian had gratefully accepted.
    Of course his father had found him a few hours later. He’d boxed Varian’s ears for leaving and forced him back to Camelot against his will. But as Varian had grown to manhood, he’d often found himself back in the tavern, spending time with Dafyn.
    Until the night the veil had come down and Dafyn had discovered himself trapped on this side while his family was still in the human world. The pain, grief, and bitterness of that had ruined a good man, and now Dafyn, like all the others here, would kill him if he had a chance.
    Varian opened the small leather purse at his waist and pulled out twenty gold marks. “There was a man murdered outside the abbey last night.”
    Dafyn curled his lip as he took the coin and pocketed it. “There’s always a murder here. So what?”
    “This was one of the Lords of Avalon.”
    “And again I say so what?”
    Varian ground his teeth before he pulled out more gold pieces and placed them on the bar in front of Dafyn. “Nothing happens in or near the abbey that you don’t know about it. Tell me who killed him.”
    Dafyn’s brown eyes actually lightened a bit as he scraped the pile of coins from the counter and put them in his pocket. “Bracken was leading them.”
    That name actually gave Varian pause. Bracken was one of the more lethal MODs Morgen commanded—though the term “commanded” was used loosely since the MODs had eaten their last master, the god Balor. They more or less had a tenuous contract with Morgen of “we’ll serve you only so long as you keep the gods from killing us and don’t annoy us too much.” At the end of the day, there was no doubt that they could kill her easily enough, but the last thing the MODs wanted was to be turned out to face the wrath of the entire Tuatha Dé Danann. That particular group of Celtic gods were known for their viciousness.
    And Bracken’s involvement didn’t bode well for Varian since he’d be the one questioning the demon who didn’t like to be questioned at all.
    Suddenly, Dafyn’s gaze went over Varian’s