The Black Spire: Descended, #2

By Amanda Almaraz

After falling victim to the Questing Beast, Socorro awakes in the unfortunate company of the sorceress Morgan le Fay and Murphy, the heir of Sir Mordred. 

 

As the bond that ties Socorro to her ancestor Sir Galahad continues to strengthen, she is ever more determined to find the grail and her way back home. 
     

The war between Merlin and Morgan le Fay looms closer, the path ahead is littered with obstacles, and the rules change with every step that she takes. Will Socorro give in to her so-called destiny? Who can she trust when everyone has motivation to pull her strings? And as the presence of Sir Galahad guides her toward the hidden grail, will the King of the Underworld find her worthy enough to simply hand it over?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Amanda Almaraz
• Release date: Jul 22, 2020
• ISBN: 9781733171434

Book preview

The Black Spire

Amanda Lynn Almaraz

THE BLACK SPIRE

Print ISBN: 978-1-7331714-2-7

Digital ISBN: 978-1-7331714-3-4

Cover by Eddie Molinar

Black Spire Emblem by Janet Watson - The Exposed Art

This book is a work of fiction. All characters, names, locations, and events portrayed in this book are fictional or used in an imaginary manner to entertain, and any resemblance to any real people, situations, or incidents is purely coincidental.

Copyright ©2020 Amanda Lynn Almaraz

All rights reserved.

Here we are again.

The Black Spire is dedicated to every one of you that purchased Descended. I intended to write this book regardless, but you made it that much easier. Thank you for supporting Sox and helping her live a life of her own. This has been a labor of love and I couldn't have done it without each of you.

2020 has been a difficult year. Getting here wasn't easy. Throwing some thanks to my dad Anthony Almaraz for tolerating my odd hours. My older sibling Andrevi Almaraz for insisting that yes, I actually can write. My friends Chantelle Boatright, for listening to me babble incoherently into the early morning hours about one story idea or another (sorry); Haley Flores, my lovely East Scottish Interpreter; Eddie Molinar and Marcelino Velasquez for always being on board for Hey! Let's do a thing! even if we never get around to it.

And last but not least, Angel Rodriguez. As always. I'm still putting you on the dedication page because you’re awesome, Angle-fish.

I hope the rest of you will stick around to join Sox and the other the heirs of the Round Table in Book 3:

Rise of the Titans.

Hopefully it won't take me a whole year to finish.

xXx

Table of Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER ONE

Overture

When I turned eighteen , I expected another boring birthday hanging out in the living room with friends and stuffing our faces with the smallest and cheapest cake that my mother could barely afford. I expected to feign my happiness while worry lingered in the back of my mind that at any moment my father would come home and my friends would feel so uncomfortable that they called their parents to come pick them up. Or worse, they chose to walk home.

March 13, 2018, I didn’t get to have the boring birthday that I had come to expect every year. I would never be that content again. Turning eighteen at two-fifteen in the afternoon meant something, and my life would never be the same.

During the troublesome times of our lives, we often wonder what would happen if things were different. We read books and watch shows and wish that our lives were more adventurous, that we were chosen for something, that we could make a difference because our lives had purpose. I would never wish that again. Ever.

I am, and always have been, a descendant of the Knights of the Round Table. I am the heir of Sir Galahad, and that realization had only brought me more questions and much less clarity.

My life was not my own. There were things expected of me that I had no knowledge of. I was forced to train relentlessly—mostly due to my own insecurities—to catch up to the people I had come to call my friends and family. I hadn’t known them long, but the blood that coursed through my veins knew the blood in theirs. A month to our mortal bodies was a lifetime to our immortal souls. I never thought I could trust someone so wholly, or feel that urge to protect them. I had never been brave, and the fine line between bravery and stupidity was where I seemed to make my home.

Bravery made me try to defend my friend. Stupidity made me stay and kill the Questing Beast. I had to leave my friends, my new family, in order to save us all. Though, it wasn’t as if I had a choice. Magic could strip people of their free will, and fighting it led to madness. I had felt that madness. I didn’t want to feel it ever again.

Memory is a tricky thing. The mind has a habit of altering the truth, of manipulating what you know and changing the story to one you’re even more sure of. Details get lost in the shuffle and the narrative shifts.

I was unsure of what my narrative was anymore. My history was a blur. I sank in and out of dreams, not knowing what was real or what was a manifestation of my ill imagination. I saw people passing like filmy phantoms. By the time their voices reached me, they were long gone and their words were incoherent echoes.

Years could have passed and I would have been none the wiser. I had no family, no friends, no future and no past. I existed without parameters. Though, I wondered if I even existed at all. That thought alone stretched ages before coming to fruition. The world was ever-flowing and it ran through my fingers like sand.

And then, one day, I woke up.

The car hit a pothole. I jostled in my seat and my head banged on the window. I sat up with a groan. There would definitely be a bump.

Finally, I heard, back from the dead.

Murphy was his name, and his accent was none that I could place. His words sounded as if he grew up speaking an old language that had not been heard by any living person. Now he was trying to speak the same language as me and though he was succeeding, sometimes I had to concentrate really hard when a word didn’t sound quite right. I didn’t know how I knew all of that, but I felt it.

Murphy... I muttered. Where am I?

On a road trip, he told me half-heartedly.

I groaned. My head felt foggy and the sunlight coming through the windows was much too bright. I flipped down the visor in hopes for some relief. It was useless.

Here, he said and a pair of sunglasses flicked into sight.

I reached out, my body moving unusually slow. My fingers curled around the long ear-piece. Time caught up, seemed to snap into place and I took them from his hand and pushed them onto my face. It helped, if only a little.

Trees raced along the sides of the road. The forest was dense and I wondered if it stretched ten yards deep or ten miles. It was impossible to tell. They were tall and thin, or at least they looked thin from the passenger seat.

I frowned. This passenger’s seat was on the wrong side of the car.

My head lolled lazily to the side and I gazed at Murphy. His long dark hair was a mess all over his head. He hadn’t look at me. Not once. Even so, I knew the color of his eyes. And I knew how it felt when his attention fell on me. Considering, amused... something else. Probably annoyance.

He seemed paler than before.

Before...? Before what? I couldn’t quite remember what happened before all of this.

He sat relaxed with his left hand at six on the steering wheel. His right elbow was on the door and his hand propped up his head. He looked like he drove often, just not stateside.

When did you learn how to drive? I asked.

When I was fifteen, he replied. Petrol—gas—is too expensive, so I never bought my own.

Petrol...? Where was he from? Had I ever bothered to ask?

And this one?

A smile curled at the edges of his lips. I didn’t steal it, if that’s what you’re asking.

Wouldn’t put it past you, I muttered.

So rude, he chuckled. True though, I suppose.

We sat in silence and I watched cars pass us by as if we were standing still. He was in the correct lane, though he was certainly taking his time getting to our destination. If we even had a destination.

Where are we going?

Not sure, he said.

So we didn’t have one.

I just wanted to get out for a bit, and I was afraid if I left you behind, you’d come crashing through walls to find me.

How considerate, I grumbled.

I don’t know how long the mirror sickness is supposed to last, so I was trying to avoid causing a scene, he told me.

And Morgan le Fay?

I remembered her the moment her name crossed my lips. I remembered the way her long dark hair hung around her shoulders in luxurious waves, the way she looked back at me like I was a nuisance... She was pretty, and in the back of my mind sat anger. Because of her, I didn’t know where I was or how long it had been since I stood before her. At least I could see straight and I wasn’t drooling all over myself.

Wait... what?

Why wouldn’t I be able to see straight? And why would I be drooling on myself? Those were odd thoughts and I wasn’t quite sure where they came from.

What’s the last thing you remember? Murphy asked me.

I raised a brow and looked back at him curiously. This is going to sound odd... but, I think I was in a cave?

When was I ever in a cave?

And before that?

Apparently it wasn’t that odd of a response.

I stared out at the street ahead of us and watched the road disappear beneath the hood of the car. Popcorn, I said slowly. Perhaps that was the before. I met you at the movies. You weren’t so pale then.

The leather around the steering wheel creaked. His hands gripped it a little tighter.

And before that? he asked. His words were tense; his jaw seemed tight. My teeth hurt just watching him.

Sitting in class...? I said. Did I sleep through my birthday? What day is it?

Eleventh of May.

I slept through my birthday, plus two more months. My head hurt, and it wasn’t from the car window. How many days was I missing? How can that be...? I whispered.

Do you remember drinking from the cup?

I tried to focus. I thought back to the darkness. I could hear the waterfall behind me. I felt cold and wet. In front of me was... Murphy? There was someone else there, too, wasn’t there?

He didn’t wait for me to speak. You’ve been walking around in a haze. I couldn’t take it anymore so I snuck you out.

I stared at him from behind my sunglasses. Who was Morgan le Fay? Why had I drank from a cup in a cave? There weren’t any answers, at least not ones that were in my own head. I wasn’t motivated to ask the right questions.

Not to mention, when I finally got you to answer me, you wouldn’t speak in anything but song titles, Murphy scoffed.

I frowned. That’s stupid, why would I do that?

I don’t know, he said with a grin. I really don’t know.

CHAPTER TWO

Reflection

I ’m tired, I muttered .

Take a nap.

I mean I’m tired of being in the car, Murphy, I complained. I need to stretch my legs. My legs weren’t sore, and neither was my back from sitting so long. I felt cramped and confined. I was bored. The trees offered no scenery to cure it. They seemed dull and flat. They weren’t even bright green with the end of spring.

Lean your seat back.

Murphy! I snapped. He was being dismissive. He wasn’t listening to me. There’s a hotel right there. Pull over. I want to get out.

His attention snapped to the hotel on the side of the road and I thought for a moment I saw surprise cross his face.

I didn’t like raising my voice. He did as I demanded and I hoped I wouldn’t have to talk at him like that ever again.

The car pulled into the little rundown motel and I immediately stepped out.

I’ll get us a room, he told me.

Heat burned up through my cheeks, all the way to the tips of my ears. One room? I asked.

That a problem?

I shook my head. Hm... No.

Don’t wander off, he told me. As if I would... This motel felt quiet. The world turned into trees on either side of the property and it buffered the sound of the highway. There wasn’t anywhere for me to go.

I huffed and leaned back against the closed car door.

Hey. Murphy snapped his fingers to get my attention and pointed at me. Don’t scratch my baby.

Sighing, I stepped away from the black sports car and shoved my hands into the pockets of my hoodie. I never paid attention to the difference between cars, all I knew was that this one was shiny, sleek, and full of horsepower. Everything was either the creepy, stranger-danger minivan, a yeehaw truck, a fast sports car I would never be able to afford, or not. Not that grown up me would ever be able to afford a car. If I lived to a grown up age... Eighteen was considered adult. I didn’t feel like one.

When he was gone, I leaned back against the car again and waited. That waiting felt endless, the silence was screaming, deafening. I glanced behind me to see if he was coming back. He had told me not to go anywhere, but my anxiety was flailing in at the back of my mind. Had he left me?

I started pacing. My tennis shoes tapped up little bits of asphalt gravel that had come loose from the parking lot and I watched it roll away. Rolling... tap-tap-tapping across the ground until it finally slowed. My heart pounded. My anxiety raced along with that pebble until I flung myself around and sprinted toward the lobby.

I sped around the corner and collided into Murphy.

Whoa! Hey—

I hugged him tightly, buried my face against his chest. I gripped his black leather jacket in my hands. The scent was thick and warm. It comforted me, eased through me. I didn’t let him go.

Hey... Easy... he whispered consolingly. He patted my back. What’s wrong?

You... were gone too long, I exhaled against his chest.

I was only gone a few minutes, he chuckled.

Murphy...

He wrapped his arms around me and held me tightly. I sank against him. That panic in my soul eased away at his touch. I belonged there, right there with him. I was certain of this. I was starved for touch.

Alright, he said. You’ll have to come with me everywhere then, until this mirror sickness finally goes away.

Mirror sickness? Was that why he couldn’t leave me?

Okay, I whispered. I tried to step back. He didn’t let me. His arms were locked behind my back. Murph... I muttered. You gotta let me go.

Do I? he said with a sly smirk.

I smiled up at him and poked his side with my finger. He squawked and defensively held his weak spot. He frowned like an upset child, his brows knit in confusion. I didn’t know that would work, and he seemed to wonder why it had.

Murphy offered his hand to me and I grasped it in both of mine. Never in my life had I been this comfortable with anyone. This was intimate in a way I had never known. This felt soft and warm, and something within me felt fluttery and hot. And here I was thinking nothing of it. My relationship with him was something I knew brought comfort, and he was willing to give it. I wanted to take all of it.

This place has a pool, he said as we walked along.

I couldn’t pay attention to the motel. It was as normal and boring as anything else that cost maybe fifty dollars a night. White stone exterior. Green paint accents.

I quirked a brow. I didn’t bring a swimsuit.

He chuckled. Yeah you did. You told me you packed it. Said it was blue... He frowned a little. I think.

I haven’t owned a swimsuit since I was a kid, I told him.

So you’re an adult now? he asked and patted the top of my head. Not a very tall adult.

Murphy! I yanked my hands away from his and trudged ahead. He was right though... I was a short, non-adulty adult.

He stopped a few paces behind me. Hey, he said and pointed at the door of Room 215. You passed our room.

You know I don’t like you, right?

He gave me a charming grin and replied, You know you love me. I don’t think you could actually hate anyone.

Eat a dick, Murphy.

Such a badass, he teased as he swiped the keycard and pushed open the door. He gave a grand gesture for me to enter before him and as I stepped inside, he flipped on the light.

Across the room was the broad mirror above the double sink. At the sight of it, the sight of our reflections, I recoiled and spun around. I slammed into Murphy once more.

Hey, easy! It’s just a mirror! he said and held me tightly against his chest.

The strength of his arms... I wanted this. I clung to the comfort he provided.

It’s a mirror, Murphy! I cried out.

I was terrified of mirrors. My heart was deafening in my ears. My hands shook as they grasped a solid hold of his leather jacket.

You’re already here. You’re here and a mirror is just a mirror now. I promise, he said and steered me into the room.

A mirror was just a mirror, he said. What had it been... before?

He kicked the door closed behind us.

I kept my eyes shut and slapped my hands over them. I didn’t want to see. He said I was here now. Had the mirror brought me here? Could it send me back? I didn’t want to risk the chance that I would be trapped in some other world. I didn’t want to be somewhere that Murphy wasn’t.

Shh, he whispered soothingly. His hands touched mine and he gently pulled them from my face. I kept my eyes closed. I promise, it’s not going to hurt you.

Opening one eye, I looked back at him, at those blue eyes that looked through me. Light blue, with golden flecks like a star bursting. A meteor shower in the paling of dawn.

There you are, he said.

There you are...? Someone else had said that to me. Perhaps it was Murphy... Who else could it be?

I opened my other eye and kept my attention on him as he stepped to my side. Eyes on Murphy. Only for Murphy... His dark hair... the line of his jaw... the smooth curve of his neck... I blinked.

The fluorescent light above the mirror was harsh in contrast to the warm lamps in the room. I was blinded for a moment.

There I was, standing before a mirror, my reflection looking back at me with Murphy looming over her shoulder, over my shoulder. Looming... was looming bad? Maybe he wasn’t looming.

See? he said.

What did I see? The last time I saw myself I looked a lot skinnier. I hesitantly approached the counter and leaned in. My eyes were hazel, my skin was tanned like I had spent more time outside than inside. Since when? I was a disheveled gamer and couch potato on my best days. My face looked fuller and I touched my cheeks. Were my hands fat?

Reaching down I pulled my black hoodie over my head and Murphy turned away. I was wearing a thin-strapped shirt beneath it. 

Muscles. My arms had muscles. They weren’t weak little chicken arms. I ran my fingers over my skin, examining myself. There were still straight white scars on my shoulders that I would probably have forever.They weren’t the center of my curiosity at the moment and they fell to the back of my mind.

I lifted my shirt to look at my toned belly.

Whoa! Alright! Murphy laughed uncomfortably.

I turned to look at him where he sat on one of the two beds. His eyes were downcast and he shielded his face with his hand.

Put your shirt down, yeah? he said.

Covering myself, I made my way over and dropped down on the bed across from him.

You alright? I asked.

He looked away from me. His face was red. Yeah, fine, he said.

I grinned. Murphy?

Stop staring at me like that! He flopped onto his bed and turned his back on me. I’m going to sleep.

It’s the middle of the day! I complained.

You were the one that wanted to get up and stretch your legs, he grumbled and waved me off.

I stayed on the bed watching him, struggling with the feeling across my skin that told me to go to him, and the feeling deep in my stomach that demanded I return to the mirror.

I sat in that room, watching Murphy hide from me in plain sight until his body relaxed and he drifted off to sleep. His breathing came slow and deep.

The room key stared at me from the little end table between our beds and I took it. I grabbed my hoodie from where I had dropped it and made for the door.

Music. I paused in step, hesitated with one foot raised.

Somewhere there was music, a guitar strumming a gentle ballad. I closed my eyes and tried to listen. Someone was humming.

The music stopped.

"No... that’s not right..." The voice came to me from far off, familiar in a way I didn’t understand.

I turned back toward the mirror on a whim. My reflection stared back at me. Only me, that stronger me that had come from some