The Demon's Revenge (The Fay Morgan Chronicles Book 4) by Katherine Sparrow

 
     
     
     
     
    1
    Riding a White Horse
    Every breath was a chore I had no interest in. I lay in my bed, in my Seattle house that I had called home for so many years. But I wasn’t really here, not for long. Months ago I’d decided my long and ancient life wasn’t worth living, not anymore. And so I’d made a to-do list of all the things I needed to do before I left, and then ticked them off one by one. For the neighbors who left their dogs penned up in small cages? I’d found good homes for the dogs and then filled up their house with bedbugs. For my own wealth and possessions? I’d named Merlin my sole inheritor in my will. He didn’t need it, but knew my heart and would use it as I would. I’d decimated the careers of a couple of public figures I found particularly loathsome.
    And now there was just one thing left on the list, one driving force, and then it would be over. This long life had been interesting at times, yes, but ultimately hollow. An immortal should earn her years, and what had I done? Nothing, but let my own addiction dictate my life for century upon century. And when Merlin had destroyed my addiction, my Holy Grail, and left me to dry out on Avalon? That was when I discovered I was thin and ragged without the Grail. I’d searched, but found no reason to live without it. And so I’d returned to Seattle to set my house in order. To do what I had to, before I left.
    There was just one thing left to do, and if I could help Lila before I died, perhaps as I died, I would. If I could help her become a free creature, and not one of servitude, then all the better that my life could have some meaning to it at its very end.
    And the end would be soon. I sensed Lila’s change approaching in her smell, and in the way that she grew distant and dreaming at times. I had been waiting weeks now for her to change. My mind fluttered quickly away from the thought.
    Without lifting my head from my pillow, I took my ancient tarot deck in my hands, the cards turned soft by years of use, and shuffled them slowly. I closed my eyes and ran the tips of my fingers over them until I felt the card that called out to me.
    I flipped it over.
    It was the card I’d been waiting for. Finally the right card.
    My champion was riding a white horse and carried a black flag with a white rose upon it. At his feet lay a body, bleeding. And children, weeping. A priest stood near the white horse, praying and holding rosaries. The card was death. Death at last. Today would unfold, however it was going to, and at the end of it I would die. All I had to do was follow the day, because today, death rode. The edge of the tarot card slipped and gave me a paper cut on my pointer finger. Blood welled, bright and hopeful.
    I laughed, a strange and strangled sound coming from me as I sat up and sucked on my finger. I placed the card upright on my dresser. Sunshine streamed in around my blackout curtains. It looked like a nice day out. What day was it? What month?
    It hardly mattered. Today would be my last on this indifferent earth. Today I would cast aside my mortal coil. My finger was still bleeding. Strange. I usually healed within seconds, thanks to my immortality. Not that it mattered. Not that anything mattered.
    I found myself humming, some old Welsh dirge about plagues and storms. I found myself smiling. The first smile ever since I’d lost my Grail and all pretense that my life had any meaning fell away.
    Someone rapped on my door, and a moment later I heard a key opening the door. That would be Lila, letting herself in. Perfect. I would help her through her change, and then it would be over.
    “Morgan. Get up,” she yelled from the front room. I heard her shoes stomping on my hard wood floors. “I don’t want to see you in bed again. The Morgan le Fay I know and love does not lie around all day long.”
    My bedroom door was flung open a moment later. “Hey, what? You’re up? Wow. Good morning,” she said.
    My young shop assistant