Friday, September 25, 2009



Jon and Richie barely had time to blink and then they were looking at the wide expanse of Jon’s backyard. Fiona stumbled slightly, falling against Jon. He threw his left arm around her shoulders and steadied her by pulling her tightly against his side.

“Are you okay?” The question came at her from three directions.

“I’m fine,” she assured them. “One of Lucie’s flunkies got lucky with one o’ his blows. I’m only a little light headed. It will soon pass.”

Morganna nodded in agreement of her sister’s assessment, and when Jon looked as if he was going to argue, she reminded him, “My sister and I are fast healers. Have no fear, child. These minor scrapes and bruises will be gone in no time.”

“It’s your wounds we should be worried about,” Fiona said softly as she looked up at Jon. There was something in the air between them, and for once she wasn’t frightened by it.

“I for one would kill for a shower,” Richie said, wincing. He hissed when he took a step toward the house.

“That sounds heavenly,” Fiona agreed and pulled away from Jon to start marching up the hill toward the house.

“Do fairies take showers?” Jon asked teasingly as he fell into step beside her, shortening his stride to match hers, and dragging Excalibur behind him. It was almost as if Jon didn't even notice the sword was there.

Morganna scoffed and looked at Richie. “Your brother enjoys flirting with danger, doesn’t he?”

Realizing she meant Jon’s use of the prohibited word, Richie laughed. “Yeah, he can’t seem to help himself, and I’ve been known to take a walk on the wild side myself.” His grin turned into a groan as he took a deep breath. “We were speaking of showers...I’ll wash your back if you wash mine.”

Morganna’s laughter trilled across the yard. “You are a naughty one, Richard.”

“Every chance I get, Anna. Every chance I get,” he agreed. His color dropped as a wave of pain swept over him. His step faltered as they made their way across the lawn.

“Lean on me,” Morganna said. “Do not let your stubborn male pride keep you from allowing me to help you.” She cast a worried glance at his face, which was ashen and clammy. “How much pain are you in?”

“Enough that I’m glad David isn’t here to make me laugh,” he said dryly. He wound a long arm around Morganna’s shoulders and leaned cautiously on her.

“Richard,” Morganna said, squeezing his hip gently. “I can support more of your weight than that.” At his doubtful glare she added, “You must try to trust me.”

“I do trust you,” Richie answered, and proved it by leaning his whole weight on her. He had to admit, he did feel better without having to keep himself upright. “There, you happy now?”

“No,” Morganna retorted, as they crossed the threshold of the back door. “I will not be happy until this whole business is done and you are safe.”



Jon headed straight for his bathroom letting Fiona follow him up the stairs. Once they reached his bedroom, he noticed the color riding high on her cheeks as he turned to cross the room to the bathroom, pausing long enough to lay Excalibur on his dresser. Jon felt the loss of the sword almost immediately upon laying it down. Realizing he actually missed the weight of the sword in his hand, he frowned slightly. He wasn’t sure what had embarrassed her and decided not to ask. “Would you like to use the shower down the hall?” he asked instead. He might seriously want to spend all night making love to her, but he had no intention of giving up his shower to her, and he was sure she wouldn’t want to share it. He turned to face her and found her right on his heels.

Her small hand rose to softly stroke the welt on his cheek. “Does it hurt very badly?” Her voice was soft and sympathetic.

He shook his head. “Not too bad.” Jon found it hard to believe that she was actually caressing his cheek. He stood as still as a statue, afraid of spooking her into running like a frightened animal.

“Are you sure?” Her voice had dropped to just a slight rasp. “I know that Anna said magic wasn’t needed to heal your other injuries, but it can be done, if you’re in pain. I would not care to see you in pain. I...”

Gently, he laid a finger across her lips to stop her rambling. “Fee, I’m fine. Really. But, thank you for caring.”

“I shouldna care so much,” she grumbled.

Her frown was adorable and he couldn’t resist the urge to kiss the tip of her nose, but when he bent his knees and moved in close to her, Fiona looked up at him. The kiss landed on her lips. They were softer than he remembered, and when she didn’t move away, but instead moved closer to him, Jon wrapped his arms around her and deepened the kiss.

He held her tightly, afraid that at any moment she’d disappear like she’d done before. There were still a million questions that he wanted answers to, but that would come later. Later, once he’d finally satisfied his hunger for her. She was so tiny and appeared so delicate, but he knew better. He’d seen her face down her enemy, seen her stand strong to protect him and Richie. She and her sister had stood shoulder to shoulder, just like he and Richie had done all these years. Together, the two of them had fought back their brother’s minions and then managed to escape with their two charges safe and sound, if a little worse for wear.

“You aren’t gonna ‘blink’ out on me, are ya?” he whispered in her ear, his breath warm on her skin.

With her eyes closed against the sensations he was creating, she shook her head. “Not this time. I couldna leave you now, if I tried.”

He smiled at the slightest hint of the Emerald Isle that danced off her tongue. The Irish only came out when she was mad, or apparently extremely turned on. Almost reverently, his hand cupped her cheek, stroking his thumb back and forth, smiling at how her long eyelashes tickled the tip of the digit with each stroke. He bent his head to sip from her lips again. She tasted of cinnamon, and smelled like the forest. He longed to see the swirling green of her eyes. “Open your eyes. Look at me.”

Her eyes blinked open at the command, but she took a step back. “I canna do this. Not yet. Not until I tell you something.”

Jon reached for her. “Tell me what?”

She shook her head, not allowing him to pull her back into his arms. “I’ve never done this afore.” She wasn’t entirely innocent. She knew where this was going, had felt the proof of his desire as it had burned against her abdomen, but she’d always refused to follow in her sister’s footsteps. Fiona had vowed to never let a man lead her down that same path. She’d been sure that if she never allowed a man that power over her, then she would never feel the sting of betrayal like Morganna had. Never almost lose her essence for a man, but if ever there was a man worth losing her essence over, it was this one. “I don’t know what to do,” she said softly, looking down at the floor.

“Don’t worry,” Jon grinned down at her, “I’ve done this a few times, and I have some idea.” He couldn’t help but tease her. It had never mattered to him if his lover was untouched or not, but now, for some reason, it meant the world to him. He was extremely pleased that he would be her first. He threaded his fingers through her long hair and nibbled lightly on her neck. Only moments ago, he’d been unable to resist the urge to just take her, to pound into her, but now, he was able to rein in the animal side of him, not wanting to hurt or scare her.

“I’m not completely innocent,” she told him. “I know the mechanics. I just don’t have any hands on experience.”

“Oh, you can have all the ‘hands on experience’ you want tonight,” he murmured against the skin revealed by the deep V of her shirt. He traced the edge of the material with his tongue, making her shiver. “Go ahead,” he prompted, “touch me, wherever you want. Please.”

She heard the pleading tone in that last word, and it struck some chord inside her. In her mind, Fiona knew that his powers, his voice, had no real power over the Fey, but it could certainly affect her as a woman. And yet, she hesitated, her hands still clenched into fists at her side.

He felt her hesitation and stopped his exploration of the warm scented skin of her cleavage to ask, “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know where to start,” she answered with a shrug. He was like a buffet of rich and extravagant foods laid out before a starving person. Where did you begin? On his strong and wide shoulders, or the bulging muscles of his upper arms? On his rock hard abs, or the ridge of steel even now pressing against the zipper of his jeans?

With a voice husky with desire, he growled, “Start wherever ya want, but for fuck’s sake just start.”

Tentatively, her hands moved up, hovering briefly over taunt pecs. Jon held his breath waiting for that first innocent touch of her hands, knowing it would be worth it.

Fiona still hesitated, but for a different reason. As much as she wanted to touch him right now, she wanted bare skin more. With the mere thought, both of their clothes vanished. Jon’s breath left his lungs in a hiss, when that first innocent touch was against hot bare skin. He didn’t even take the time to wonder about their sudden nudity. He’d already learned that strange things tended to happen with this woman around. He groaned as her hands coasted over the muscles of his chest, pausing to circle his nipples with the tips of her curious fingers.

“Just my hands?” she asked, her voice breathless.

Jon knew what she was asking. “For fuck’s sake no, in fact I’m begging here.” It was taking everything he had to remain motionless while she explored him.

His breath left his lungs in a whoosh of air when she leaned forward to circle one nipple with her tongue. Then, he couldn’t contain the moan when she sucked lightly at the hardened nub of flesh. Her small hands moved down to his waist and around to smooth across his back, then as her bravery grew, down to his ass.

He couldn’t contain himself any longer, and roughly thrust his hands into her hair, pulling her head back so that he could once again drink from her lips. “I don’t know how much more I can take,” he whispered against her lips, right before his mouth took hers. While their tongues tangled, he held her head still with his hands fisted in her hair, one over each ear.

Her hands continued their exploration of his body. Smoothing muscles that bunched and relaxed under her ministrations. She marveled at the smoothness of his skin in places, and the roughness of hair in others. There was a leashed power about him that she could feel in every inch she caressed.

Jon tried to tell himself that he needed to slow down, to take his time, but the little sounds she made in the back of her throat, the way she moved her body against his, and her small hands on him made that impossible. “I need you,” his voice was little more than a growl.

“I canna breathe,” she gasped. “My knees are shaking, and I can feel the blood rushing through my veins. Is it always like this?”

“Pretty much...if you’re lucky,” he groaned against her neck. Quickly, he bent and scooped her up in his arms, then stalked to the bed.

Knowing he was controlling his passion, she was amazed at the tenderness he used when he laid her on the bed. He stood over her and flashed her that little boy grin she’d seen so many times. “I’ll make sure you don’t regret this.”

“I already do,” she murmured as she reached for him. “You’ll be the death of me. I know it. You willna be able to help it, but you will betray me. I’ve never known a man that was true.”

“I won’t betray you,” he denied, his voice full of conviction. “But, we’ll talk about that in the morning.” He moved to lie beside her.

Fiona stared up at the ceiling, unable to meet his eyes. He lay with his chest against her arm, with his head propped in his hand. Even though she wasn’t looking at him, she could feel the power in his blue eyes as his gaze came to rest on her face.

“Fee, look at me.” His free hand coasted down the length of her body, just the tips of his fingers barely touching her.

Green eyes drifted up to meet blue. “Make me forget that you’ll eventually betray me,” she whispered.

Jon frowned down at her, but decided that he could show her better with actions than he could ever make her see with words. He bent his head to once again kiss her deeply, letting his fingers pluck lightly at her nipples, before he cupped her full breast in his hand. He smiled against her lips; that certainly didn’t feel like an almost two thousand year old breast.

“Should I still be touching you?” she asked when he pulled his lips from hers to nibble gently on her neck.

“Yes, please,” he said to the hollow of her throat, his tongue dipping into the notch there. He jerked back to look at her in surprise when her small hand wrapped around his cock.

Her eyes clouded with confusion. “Was that wrong?”

“Oh, God no,” he groaned unable to keep from thrusting into her small hand.

“Are you sure?”

“Fairly certain,” he almost whimpered. He moved his free hand to wrap around hers, gently guiding her into a rhythm, showing her how to stroke him. When his hand moved away it was to cup her, one long finger stroking through the curls and moving up and down the crease, before slipping past to move back and forth across her clit.

She squirmed against him, her hips pushing up against his hand. It was when his finger slid inside her that she blinked up at him and said, “That’s not how I was told this was done.”

“Whaddya mean?” he managed to ask, feeling her readiness on his finger.

“It wasna your finger that I was told should go there.”

“I’ve always been a rule breaker,” he teased, trying to regain some semblance of control. He moved his hand away from her to brace his weight as he covered her smaller body with his own.

“Okay, now this seems more like what I was told,” she whispered, looking up at him.

“Really?” Slowly, he pressed into her, but stopped when he felt the resistance of the barrier that proclaimed her untouched by any other man. “This may hurt a little.”

“I know,” she answered. She could feel him holding back, keeping himself in check.

He braced himself on one arm and moved his left hand to her hip to steady her. Fiona couldn’t wait any longer. Her mother had explained all of this to her, and she knew Jon was trying to spare her the pain. Quickly, before she could think too hard about it, she thrust her hips upward.

Before he could stop her, Jon felt her push upward and felt the barrier break, even as she gasped slightly from the pain and stiffened in his arms. “Shhhhh,” he whispered, stroking her hair tenderly. “The painful part is all over now. I promise. Nothing now but pleasure.”

Fiona was entirely sure that he was lying to her. Then he started to move inside her. Slowly the pleasure she’d been feeling before his penetration returned, and she started to move with him. Pushing upward with her hips to meet his downward plunges. The air was filled with their gasps and moans. Jon slipped one hand between their bodies to stroke her clit with one finger.

“Jon?” She was very unsure of the feelings washing over her and clutched his upper arms tightly.

“It’s okay, Fee,” he assured her. “I’ll catch you.”

And when the pleasure lifted her up, up, and up, until she was surely higher than the clouds, she was sure that he would catch her when she fell back to earth.

Jon felt her tighten around him and her toes curling against the hair roughened skin of his calves, and finally allowed himself free rein. He thrust into her several more times before he joined her in the sky, murmuring her name as he soared with her.

Friday, September 11, 2009


"What IS that?" Jon asked, instinctively stepping in front of Richie. On the horizon, a cloud of dust had formed. It was quickly moving across the field toward them. Within minutes, they could hear the sound of chattering growing stronger as the dust approached. The voices in the cloud were hissing, whispering dreadful, hateful things that combined into a drone that made them cold.

"No, man," Richie said, easing back so he was shoulder-to-shoulder with his friend. "I think the question is probably ‘WHO is that’. Don't you hear the voices?"

"Is that what that noise is?" Jon asked. "What are they saying?"

"You do not want to know," Fiona advised. "It is better if you do not hear them clearly; it will protect your sanity."

"They’re, what, casting spells against us?" Richie asked, not believing the words that had escaped his lips.

"Of a sort," Morganna answered. "Your magic should protect you from their verbal attacks," she continued. "It’s the physical attack you must protect yourself from."

Richie turned to ask just what the hell she was talking about, and found Anna and Fiona dressed in a completely different fashion than they were a moment ago. Both women had their hair braided elaborately and tied up with leather circlets around their foreheads. They now wore supple leather boots with sturdy soles, heavy broadcloth tunics with steel wrist protectors around each wrist, and thick, drab trousers tucked into their boots. Wide leather belts encircled their waists and long swords hung to the ground, tucked into leather scabbards.

Gone were the beguiling smiles and sparkling eyes of the fey. In their place were the scowls and hardened eyes of the warrior.

"Talk to me, Fee," Jon said. "What the hell is going on?" He was flexing his grip around the hilt of the sword, and shifting his weight back and forth on the balls of his feet.

"This is your second test," Fiona answered stepping up beside Jon and drawing her own blade. "Lucie has sent a welcoming party."

"What are you doing woman?!" Jon yelled, looking her up and down. "I know you don’t think you’re going to fight. Get behind me for God’s sake."

Morganna spared a smile for Jon as she stepped up next to Richie, sword at the ready. "Child, we have fought more battles than you both have bedded women. Do not let these creatures get behind you," she warned. "Lucie fights dirty. Once they have you blind-sided, they will not hesitate to swarm like ants to honey." She chanced a glance across Richie and met Jon’s eyes. "Be concerned only with protecting yourself. Fiona and I can fend for ourselves, and Lucie has had many opportunities to kill us and has let them pass by . If nothing else, you must protect the sword. Do not let it fall into their hands."

In a heartbeat, the clamoring chatter noise was deafening, and the cloud of dust surrounded them.

"Hold fast!" Morganna shouted. "Wait for them to attack first!"

"Attack?" Richie asked. "Holy shit."

"There isn’t a damned thing holy about this," Fiona retorted. "Try to make your way to the Ring. We can make good our escape from there."

Jon felt someone pull at the sword in his hand. "Hey!" he yelled, pulling back.

"Hold fast!" Morganna warned again. "It is the sword they seek to capture!"

"Over my dead body," Jon said. He held the sword up across his body like a worthy combatant, his muscles flexing from the strain of holding it aloft.

"That is their preference, mortal" Fiona hissed. "Lower that weapon, novice, before you kill us all."

The dust settled as suddenly as it engulfed them, and the foursome found themselves loosely surrounded by fifteen average-sized men of indeterminate age. They looked as though they could be bankers or store clerks; husbands or fathers. The only thing that gave them away as not-quite-human was their flat, red eyes.

Fiona and Morganna shifted position so their backs were against those of their charges. "Remember, do not let them attack from behind," Fiona said.

"What the hell is this?" Jon asked nervously, as they stared at Lucie’s men.

One of the men called out, "Give us the sword neophyte, and your women will live."

Jon narrowed his eyes at the speaker. "You will not take this sword from me, Bluto," Jon said, making a connection between the large man before him and the cartoon bully. "And you will not hurt these women." I hope, he added silently.

The large man laughed. "Boy, there is nothing you can do to stop us."

He advanced, and Jon stepped back, bumping Fiona. "Fuck," he said under his breath. "Fuck, fuck fuck."

Richie had his fists balled at his sides and was flitting his eyes among the men closest to him. He was muttering under his breath something that sounded like a prayer.

"Steady Accolon," Morganna murmured.

"Who?" Richie asked.

Morganna was saved from answering by an attack from all sides. All fifteen combatants surged forward. They each had roles to play. Four were tasked with testing the mettle of the mortals, and stepped up into their faces. They had seconds who stood behind them, waiting in eerie silence.

The remaining seven attackers drew short blades from their waists, and advanced. The women tried to draw them away from Jon and Richie, swinging their swords at them and drawing their attack. Occasionally, when given an opening, Fiona would slash her arm through the air sending any demons in their path flying through the air, as the foursome tried to slowly make their way toward the Ring. The clang of steel on steel was distracting for Jon and Richie, and they saw Morganna stagger back from one of the blows. She righted herself before she could careen into a tree and sent a nearly visible wave of angry white magic toward the attacking demon.

"Morganna!" Richie called out, distracted for a moment. That was all it took for the closest man to land a round-house kick to Richie’s abdomen. "Oof!" he wheezed as the breath was knocked from his lungs and his vision blurred. Morganna touched the earring she had taken from Richie and he felt the air rush back in, and his eyesight cleared. One of Lucie’s armed men took advantage of her distraction to skirt Morganna and take a run at Jon, sword raised.

"Dammit, Rich, are you alright?" Jon shouted, swinging his sword at the blade-wielder, connecting with a mighty ring. "Jesus," he muttered. The impact was so great, Jon thought he would lose control of the weapon. He redoubled his grip on the hilt, grasping it in both hands. He swung again at the assailant and again met his steel. This time the impact didn’t threaten to knock the veneers off his smile.

"Fine," he wheezed, standing back upright. He stepped up and jabbed the attacker in the face, bloodying his nose. "Fuck you," Richie said to him as the enemy fell to the ground, stunned. With a satisfied grin, Richie whirled on another attacker, aiming a punch for the man’s chin. The man was ready for him, however, and ducked while one of his brethren leapt on Richie’s back and started to strangle him. Gagging, Richie clawed at his attacker’s arm, but the man was fiercely strong.

"Jon!" Richie croaked, drawing his friend’s attention.

Jon moved slowly backwards until he was behind Richie and his attacker. By swinging the sword, he kept the rest of Lucie’s men at bay. Stepping up behind the man clinging to Richie’s neck, he brought the hilt of the sword down on the back of his head with a sickening crunch. The man groaned and slithered to the ground and disappeared entirely.

"What the fuck?" Jon asked, spinning around. His sword swung with him, and he slashed the fast-approaching dull-eyed monster neatly in half. He too, disappeared. Now there were thirteen attackers, and they were starting to show fear in their otherwise dead eyes.

"What is happening?" Jon asked. "Ow! FUCK!" One of the men had managed to find an opening, and sliced into Jon’s bicep. "You fucking CUT me!" he shouted, and swung the sword again, connecting with the man’s neck. He disappeared in a cloud of dust.

Seeing that a frontal attack wasn’t working, Lucie’s men regrouped. Two of their number continued to fight the fey, their swordsmanship an even match for the females’. The remainder of them neatly separated Richie from Jon.

"Shit," Richie whispered. "What the fuck do I do now?" he asked, dread coloring his voice. One of the men facing Richie had a sword. He knew there was no way he'd be able to best this man, not without a weapon. The attacker was too strong, and too fast.

Richie flashed on a memory of Morganna and Fiona trying to explain their siren powers, and decided, "Hell, it can’t be any worse than dyin’," and cleared his throat.

Everybody was kung-fu fighting
Those cats were fast as lightning


"Rich, man, what the fuck?" Jon asked. He noticed that the enemy,as one, held up for a minute, and cocked their heads. It was a synchronous motion, almost like it was choreographed.

In fact it was a little bit fright’ning
But they fought with expert timing


Richie tentatively swung a punch at the closest red-eyed demon and the man went down. "Jon?"

"Right behind you, brother." He took the next lines.

They were funky Jersey men from a funky Jersey town
They were chopping them up and they were chopping them down


They sung together while they fought. Lucie’s men got a fair number of shots in, and Jon’s arm was still bleeding, but they were winning.

Slowly.

It's an ancient Chinese art and everybody knew their part
From a feint into a slip, and kicking from the hip


The fey stepped up while the brothers sang.

Everybody was kung-fu fighting
Those cats were fast as lightning
In fact it was a little bit fright’ning
But they fought with expert timing


They fought bravely, slaying Lucie’s minions as they stood sluggishly transfixed by Jon and Richie’s singing. As each blade sunk into its target, the demon disappeared in a cloud of dust.

There was funky Jonny B and the big ol’ King of Swing
He said here comes the big boss, lets get it on
We took a bow and made a stand, started swinging with the hand
The sudden motion made me skip now we're into a brand new trip


When the last demon had dissolved, the four took stock. Jon still had the sword, though his left arm was still oozing blood. He had a large welt on one cheekbone and his ribs were sore from some of the punches and kicks that landed.

Richie had managed to avoid the blades, but took quite a beating. His eyes were both blackened, and he had a split lip. His knuckles were torn up from the fight, and he thought for sure at least three teeth were loose. "Man, I feel like shit," he moaned.

"You look it, brother," Jon said. "How’s your hands?"

Richie flexed his fingers. "Still working. How’s your arm?"

Jon looked at the slash across his Superman. "Damn," he said, wincing at the burning pain. "I always liked that tattoo."

"Here," Morganna said, sheathing her sword. "Let me see." She examined the wound and touched her marked forearm to his shoulder. Almost instantly, Jon felt the burning subside and watched in awe as his skin knitted back together, seamlessly.

"Amazing," he said. "Can you fix the rest of it?"

Morganna shook her head. "The rest is not so bad that it requires magic to heal."

Richie stepped up and took Morganna’s shoulders in his hands. "Are you alright?" He searched her face, wincing at the smudges of blood and dirt on her cheeks. Some of the blood was hers, some of it not. He tentatively swiped a gentle finger across the earring, his earring, that was glinting up at him. "You saved me," he said reverently. "Why didn't you use your magic to keep you from getting hurt?"

Morganna took Richie's hand gently and lowered it from her head. "It doesn't work that way," she answered. "It is complicated, but I cannot just fashion a shield around myself. Perhaps when I am through with my training, but for now, I must rely on my other skills."

"You and Fiona fought so well," Richie said.

She nodded. "Aye. Fiona and I are seasoned warriors," she said softly. "It will take more than a handful of Lucie’s lesser demons to best us." She looked at her sister who nodded.

"My sister speaks the truth," Fiona said. She stepped up to Jon and gently touched his cheek. "You fought bravely," she said softy. "You wielded Excalibur as if it were forged for your hand."

Jon looked her over from the top of her head to her feet. Although, she didn't have a hair out of place, she had an angry red knot on her left temple. The right sleeve of her shirt was ripped at the shoulder, and there was a dark bruise already forming on her right jaw. He wanted to take her in his arms and squeeze her tightly, but he knew she wouldn't welcome that kind of attention. He shook his head to dispel those tender thoughts. "I don’t know what happened," he said. "It just felt right. I can’t explain it."

"You have bonded," a deep, masculine voice answered.

The foursome whirled around to find a visage of Merlin hovering over the lake. They could see the clouds through the hologram-like vision, and almost laughed when a bird flew through his nose. Jon stepped forward. "Bonded?"

"Yes," Merlin said. "Now it is yours and you are its." The image sighed. "You must rest, and you must arm the older one. You will not have such an easy time with the next wave." Merlin disappeared.

"Easy?" Jon scoffed.

"Older?" Richie chuffed.

Jon chuckled. "Yeah, man, older." He slung an arm around his friend’s shoulder. "I’m glad you’re not dead."

Richie turned to hug his friend, slapping him hard on the back. "Me too. Back atcha, bro. C’mon, let’s go home."

"Amen to that, my brother, amen to that."

The foursome cast one last wary glance around the once again pristine countryside, and approached the ring. They stepped inside and disappeared.



Deep, deep in a place that the sun’s rays never touched, Lucifer seethed. "He has bonded with the damned SWORD!" he bellowed. "CENTURION!"