“Come vith me, children,” Kirill said before Jesus could answer. “Time for breakfast. Mommy vill help Uncle J sort zis out.”
As Kirill headed for the dining room, Azrael set Sebastian and Dominic down, and they waddled after the group, too sleepy to fly.
“She's right,” Jesus said softly. “Fathers don't steal from their children. Not the good ones at least. This needs to end.”
“I could try to cast a locating spell,” I suggested.
“If you'd just let me show you what I saw this morning, you wouldn't need to do that,” Torrent said.
I spun toward Torr. “What did you see?”
“Do you know where my father is?” Jesus asked at the same time.
“Yes.” Torrent lifted the laptop he was carrying, opened it, and brought up a video. “This happened in London this morning.”
A reporter. Microphone in hand, stood before a pair of familiar black gates as she said, “Buckingham Palace, one of the few historical buildings in the world that escaped alteration by faerie magic, was taken by force today. The man who seized the palace claims to be the legendary King Arthur of Camelot.”
“You have my attention,” I murmured.
“Thankfully, most of the Royal Family was gathered at Balmoral Castle at the time of the invasion, mourning the passing of our beloved Queen Elizabeth II.”
“Damn, I forgot she died,” one of the lions on the stairs said.
The reporter went on, “King Charles was in residence, but was escorted to safety by members of his King's Guard. It's not yet known how the self-proclaimed King Arthur got into the palace or what exactly happened with the rest of the King's Guard, but we're told there were no fatalities. This man, who some have speculated is a faerie, is now in command of the King's Guard. He has managed to shift the loyalties of our most stalwart soldiers and has recruited even more since the—” a trumpet blast interrupted her. “Oh! Here he comes!”
The camera panned away from the reporter to the gates and then zoomed in beyond them to the main doors of Buckingham Palace's East Front. The doors were open and a group of guards, dressed in their official uniforms, came marching out, rifles over their shoulders and tall hats in place. In the center of them walked a man in a suit with a longsword strapped to his waist. I couldn't see his features from that distance, but he had short hair and was clean-shaven. As the camera zoomed in on him, Jesus gasped.
“Holy shit, that's my dad.” Jesus leaned in. “And the Grayel!”
Sure enough, Jerry carried a large, gold case. Not a briefcase or a suitcase but something in between, like a case you might transport an expensive bottle of liquor in. Or a holy chalice.
Jerry, who I wouldn't have recognized without his long hair and beard, looked damn good. He had a nice face. Classically handsome. Strong jawline. And his smile was brilliant as he stepped up to the gates.
Microphones on rods, whatever they call them, were extended over the gate toward Jerry, and every camera focused on him. Reporters began to shout questions.
“Where are the Police?” I asked.
“The King's Guard cleared the area in front of the palace and has kept everyone but the Press out,” Torrent said. “Police included.”
“What in the world?” I whispered. “How did they manage that?”
“They aimed rifles at them. Most British police officers don't carry guns. By the time they called in the firearms unit, Jerry had a ward in place.”
Jerry held up a hand, and the reporters went silent.
“You have doubts,” Jehovah said. “I have come to quell them. I am King Arthur Pendragon, Ruler of the Realm. Long ago, I promised to return to Britain when you needed me most. That day has come. My kingdom has been overrun with faeries. I know these creatures well. They were once my friends, but they betrayed me, and I promise you, they will betray you too.”
“Oh, fuck,” Trevor said.
“This can't be happening,” Azrael muttered.
“I have come to lead an army against these usurpers. In particular, against the man who claims to be their god. I swear to you, the Fey have no gods. They are immoral beings without respect for anything sacred and no religion at all.” He held up his hand as reporters started shouting again. “I have brought with me an item to prove my claims.”
Jerry set the case on the ground and pressed a button on the top. The sides opened like a flower and amid the thick, gold petals, on a base of red velvet, sat the chalice. He picked it up and held it aloft.
“This is the holy grail, that which I tasked my knights to find many years ago. It has the power to heal all ills and grant immortality. I offer a sip from the grail to anyone who will join my army and fight the Fey. Join me, and you will live forever.”
“How do we know there isn't poison in that cup?” someone shouted.
