by Mari Mancusi
But Lucas grabbed it and placed it back on the shelf. “No distractions from our mission,” he commanded, leading her over to the Slurpee machine. He placed a giant cup under the swirling bowl and pushed a lever. A moment later, the cup was filled to the brim with bright red liquid.
“Cherry Slurpee for my brave adventurer,” he declared, handing the cup to her.
“Thank you, kind sir,” she quipped, putting the cup to her lips and taking a large sip. The icy liquid filled her mouth, taking over her senses, and—
Slamming into her head!
“Ow!” she cried, dropping the cup in shock. Red liquid splattered everywhere as she clung to her head with both hands. Pain shot through her entire body, forcing tears to her eyes. “Goddess Mother!” she cried in agony. “What was in that drink?”
She suddenly realized Lucas was laughing hysterically.
“What?” she demanded, a little insulted at his mirth. That had really hurt!
“Welcome to your very first brain freeze,” he teased. He reached down and picked up her fallen cup, throwing it into a hole on the counter.
She did a double-take. “The Slurpee freezes your brain? Why would anyone want such a horrible thing?”
Lucas snorted. “Because, as I said, it's the best stuff on earth. And you don't get brain freeze every time. You just need to learn to drink it slower,” he told her. “And preferably through a straw.” He filled another cup, grabbing a small white tube and sticking it in, instructing her to sip.
“I don't know,” she said. The terrible pain was almost gone and the last thing she wanted was for it to return.
But Lucas pressed the drink into her hands, catching her eyes with his own serious green ones. “Trust me,” he said. And Guinevere suddenly realized that she did.
So she took the cup, swallowing hard before taking a tentative sip, praying she wasn't making a stupid mistake. The liquid hit her mouth, surprising her again with its intense flavor and sweetness. She dared swallow a small, cold mouthful and her lips involuntarily quirked into a smile. “Mmm,” she said, daring another sip. “This is exquisite!”
“Told ya,” Lucas replied, making his own drink. “The Slurpee is the cure to any distress.”
She chuckled. “I think you may be right.”
Lucas gave her a thumbs-up, then headed to the man behind the counter, handing him a couple pieces of paper, presumably what this world used for payment. Then he turned back to Guin. “I'm glad you liked it. But we'd better get back before anyone notices we're gone.”
She nodded. “Let's go.”
They left the store, drinks clasped firmly in hands, retracing their steps down toward the parking lot. When they reached the sign, Lucas turned to her, raising his Slurpee in a mock toast. “To our brave adventure!” he crowed. “And to me—for making the lovely Guinevere smile once again!”
Guin's cheeks flushed at his words, but she managed to press her cup against his own anyway, completing the toast. “Thank you,” she said, not able to stop another grin from creeping onto her face. “The Slurpee was indeed a magical cure.”
“I told you!” Lucas cried, his smiling eyes catching her own. “You'll learn soon enough that I'm always right in all matters involving sweet, delicious oversized beverages and making fair maidens smile.”
“I never doubted it for a moment,” she teased back. Then, on impulse, she leaned forward and kissed him quickly on the cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered in his ear.
“No, thank you,” Lucas replied, kissing her back.
This time squarely on the mouth.
*
Where was he?
Mortimer scanned the parking lot, looking for Lucas. They'd been assigned to search together, but then he'd seen the guy taking off with some girl. No, not just any girl, but Guinevere, Arthur's girlfriend. The one that had gotten Morgan so excited earlier that afternoon. He smiled. Arthur's girl and his best friend, sneaking off together. What would the school's new superstar think?
He stopped short as his eyes alighted on the sneaky little duo, running back up the road from wherever they'd been and ducking behind a sign. They were laughing hard and didn't seem aware that anyone was watching. Mortimer's pulse kicked up in excitement. This was too perfect.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, setting it to record mode. Then he moved in closer to get a better shot, letting the video roll.
“Oh Arthur,” he thought as he captured the Academy Award–winning shot. “Guess your world isn't so perfect after all.”
Chapter 35
Guinevere broke from the kiss, backing up in horror. “What are you doing?” she cried, covering her mouth with her hand. The mouth that Lucas had just kissed—without even asking permission.
Lucas stared down at her, his eyes gazed and his expression confused. “What do you mean?” he asked. “I thought—”
“You kissed me,” she stated, pointing out the obvious. “You can't kiss me. I belong to Arthur.”
Lucas's eyes widened. “Wait, what?” he asked. “You're dating Arthur?” He raked a hand through his tousled hair. “Why didn't you tell me that?”
“You never asked.”
“Oh man,” he groaned, pacing the parking lot. “Man, oh man. I'm sorry. I had no idea. Arthur's my friend. I never would have kissed you if I'd known.”
He looked so distressed that Guinevere's heart softened. “I know,” she assured him. “It was my fault for kissing you first. I only meant it as a friendly gesture. I never meant . . . “ She moaned. “Oh, winds and rain! I'm as wicked as the Google says I am!”
Lucas shot her a confused look. “What?”
“Never mind,” she said quickly. “It matters not. Only that I love Arthur with all my heart. That I would die for him if need be. And I will never, ever love another.” She gave Lucas a sorry smile. “You're very nice,” she assured him. “And you make me laugh. But my heart belongs to him.”
Lucas nodded slowly. “I understand,” he said. He paused, then added, “Arthur's a lucky guy. I hope we can still be friends.”
“Of course,” she cried, relief washing over her. “We'll be friends for certain. But now I must go find Sophie. I've been gone too long and she must be worried.”
She turned and headed through the parking lot, back to the rescue area, scanning it for her new friend. But Sophie was nowhere to be found. Maybe she'd already started her search? Guinevere headed into the woods, hoping to find her.
As she walked, her mind raced, thinking about what had just happened. Thankfully no one had seen them—that would have been a disaster. Arthur already doubted her words. The last thing he needed was to find proof that history had been right.
She squared her shoulders and firmed her resolve. She'd made a mistake. But that was all right. She would find Arthur tomorrow and try to convince him to go home with her once again. To leave this nightmare behind them. Maybe this time he would actually listen.
She stopped, glancing around, realizing that while lost in thought, she'd ended up lost in the woods as well. As she'd walked, darkness had started to fall, and now she had no idea where she was. She scanned the dark wood, searching for some sign of life. Some other rescue group, perhaps. But the forest seemed as silent as the grave and just as dark.
A little frightened, she turned and attempted to head back in the direction from which she came. “Hello?” she called out, but there was no answer. How far had she wandered? Had anyone realized she was missing yet?
Suddenly her ears caught a low rumbling sound, causing her heart to leap in her chest. What was that? And where was it coming from? She had no idea what sorts of beasts lurked in the darkness of this strange new world. And she had no desire to find out.
Panicked, she picked up her pace, running through the woods as best she could, dodging low-hanging branches and stumbling over rocks. Tripping over an upended root, she felt herself go flying, slamming her palms down onto the forest floor and knocking the breath from her lungs. After
a moment, she scrambled back to her feet, forcing herself to slow down, realizing that breaking an ankle would only make things worse.
“Hello?” she cried out again, this time her voice cracking on the word. She hugged her arms around her chest, realizing the temperature had dropped dramatically and the thin coat Sophie had let her borrow was doing little to keep out the chill. Would she be able to survive the night if she couldn't find her way back? Or would the bitter wind claim her as its own? Why oh why had she been so stupid—to wander off without looking where she was going? It was really dark now. And she had no light to guide her way.
Just as she was about to despair, she caught a spark of light to her right. Just a small glow, but a glimmer of hope all the same. Excited, she changed directions, charging toward the light like a moth to a flame.
“Hello?” she cried. “You with the light! Please help me! I'm lost!”
“Over here!” a high-pitched female voice answered.
Guinevere let out a sigh of relief. She pushed her way through a thick copse of trees and entered a clearing, where she found a small fire, offering much needed light and warmth. A girl, only a few years older than herself, sat in front of the fire, plopped down on a fallen log and warming her hands in front of the blaze. With long black hair and purple eyes that seemed to glow in the firelight, she was perhaps the most beautiful girl Guinevere had ever seen and, at the same time, appeared strangely familiar. Then Guin noticed she was wearing the same uniform as the other girls who attended Sophie's school. Perhaps she'd seen her by the football field earlier that day.
In any case, it didn't matter. Guin would pretty much take any rescue right about now. She approached eagerly.
“Thank the wind and rain I found you!” she exclaimed, dropping to her knees to warm herself by the fire. The flames' heat felt good against her frigid skin.
She looked up, finding the girl watching her with intense, catlike eyes. But she said nothing. A little unnerved, Guinevere found herself rambling on. “I was lost in the woods and have been trying desperately to find my way back to the camp,” she added. “Do you know the way?”
Still, the girl remained silent. A chill tripped up Guinevere's spine, though she wasn't sure why. Only that suddenly the fire didn't seem so warm after all.
“Um, do you know Sophie?” she tried again. “I came here with her and got separated. She's probably worried about—”
“You're very beautiful,” the girl interrupted, still watching her intensely. “No wonder he likes you so.”
Guinevere swallowed hard, wondering if she'd made a big mistake approaching this stranger. “What?” she asked, her voice trembling. “What are you talking about?” Something was wrong here. Really wrong. “You know what?” she added, rising to her feet. “Never mind. I'm sure I can find my own way back.” She turned to leave . . .
Only to have a bolt of lightning crash down in front of her, inches from where she stood.
Guinevere leapt back, startled. She whirled around to find the girl still watching her, calmly, her lips now curled into a sinister smile. Did she just . . . ? But that was impossible.
Wasn't it?
“So sorry,” the girl purred. “But you're not going anywhere, Princess Guinevere.” And at that very moment, Guinevere realized exactly where she'd seen her before.
And when.
“Goddess Mother, protect me!” she whispered, her heart in her throat. “You're Morgan Le Fay!”
The girl grinned widely. “At your service, my dear. Or should I say, you are now at mine.”
*
“Geez, I turn my back for one second . . . “ Sophie muttered as she headed into the woods, shining her flashlight in all directions. Where had the princess wandered off to? She'd only left her for a moment—to allow her to speak to Arthur—but when she turned back around, Guinevere was nowhere to be seen. When she asked Arthur where she'd gone, he'd given her a guilty look and gestured vaguely to the forest behind them. But Sophie had been scouring the woods for a good fifteen minutes now and had seen so sign of her.
Half of her wanted to turn around, to return to the warm rescue tent and wait for the princess to come back on her own. After all, Merlin had only assigned her to look after Arthur, not Guinevere, and she already had her hands full with that. But she found she couldn't bring herself to abandon the princess out here in the dark. She was a stranger in a strange land and Sophie knew how that felt, first hand, after her own adventures in medieval times.
Suddenly a terrified cry broke through the darkness. Sophie's ears perked up and her pulse kicked up a notch. Was that Guinevere? Was she in some sort of trouble? Breaking into a run, she dashed in the direction of the noise, trying her best not to trip and fall in the dense undergrowth.
“Guin?” she cried. “Where are you?”
Suddenly Guin burst out of a bush, flying in the other direction. Even in the darkness, Sophie could see that her eyes were wide and terrified.
“Run!” Guin cried. “It's Morgan Le Fay!”
Sophie's heart skipped a beat. Morgan Le Fay? The sorceress? The ultimate bad guy that had slaughtered her and her friends in Camelot's Honor just a few days ago? She was here? In real life? And chasing after Guinevere?
This was not good. Sophie dug in her heels, switched directions, and tore off after Guinevere as fast as she could. The cold wind whipped through her hair, stinging her ears, but she pressed forward, knowing both of their lives could depend on it.
After all, she'd seen what Morgan Le Fay could do in a videogame. And in real life, as Merlin said, there were no do-overs.
They ran for what seemed like hours, but was probably only a few minutes. Breathless, Sophie dared take a look back to see if they were still being pursued. Thankfully the forest seemed dark and quiet behind them. Still, they couldn't exactly stop; they'd be sitting ducks out here.
She turned back and her eyes fell upon a small hunting cottage, nestled in the woods. It was dark and Sophie knew hunting season was over for the year—so it'd likely be empty. She waved at Guin to get her attention, put a finger to her mouth for silence, then pointed to the structure. Guinevere nodded and the two of them crept into the cabin, pulling the creaky door shut behind them.
The furnishings inside were crude and the floors held a thick layer of dust—the place obviously hadn't been used for a while. Still, it gave them shelter from the wind and a place to hide while they caught their breath. Sophie turned off her flashlight and sank to her knees, her mind racing with what to do next. Unfortunately she'd left her cell phone back in the car, so there was no calling for help. And she had no idea where they were at this point in relationship to the camp. The woods stretched out for over fifty miles in all directions and if they picked the wrong one, they'd be walking for days.
Across from her, Guinevere settled into a rickety-looking wooden chair, scrubbing her face with her hands. She looked up at Sophie in distress. “What are we going to do?” she asked in a trembling voice.
“Are you sure it was Morgan Le Fay?” Sophie asked. “The Morgan Le Fay. Why would she be here? And why would she be chasing you?” But even as she asked the questions, she remembered what Merlin had said. About how they'd been hiding the scabbard from Morgan. About what would happen if she learned it was in the twenty-first century, unprotected. About how she'd do pretty much do anything to get her hands on it.
“She wants Arthur,” Guinevere explained in a trembling voice. “She killed his father, Uther Pendragon, and now she wants to kill him, too. But she can't because he's holding the scabbard—which protects its wearer from any harm.”
“Let me guess,” Sophie said. “She thinks if she kidnaps you, Arthur will trade the scabbard in exchange for your life.”
“And then there will be nothing to stop her from killing us all,” Guinevere added miserably. “And taking over the kingdom of Camelot for herself.” The princess shuddered. “We can't let that happen, Sophie. We can't let her destroy my world.”
Or m
y future, Sophie realized, swallowing hard. With Morgan taking over, these tiny time ripples they'd been experiencing—like the lack of pepperoni pizza—would grow to tidal wave proportions—perhaps even leading to the end of the world as they knew it.
Things had just gotten a lot more complicated. And a lot more dangerous.
“We need to get back to my house,” she told Guinevere. “Maybe I can contact Merlin through the videogame. Let him know what's going on. If anyone would know what to do, it'd be him. I'm sure of it.”
Guinevere opened her mouth to reply, then clamped it shut as they heard a crashing noise outside. A moment later a light shone through the cottage window. They dropped to the floor to avoid its beams.
“Did you think you could hide from me?” Morgan called out a moment later. “Did you think my magic wouldn't track you down?” She cackled, a harsh, bitter sound cutting through the otherwise still night. “Now come out or I will make you come out. And I cannot promise it'll be in one piece.”
Sophie glanced around the cottage, searching for another exit, but saw none. They were trapped. She bit her lower lip, trying to think, her heart racing in her chest. There had to be a way to get past the witch. But how? They certainly weren't equipped to fight her head-on. She knew from the legends, not to mention Camelot's Honor, that Morgan was a powerful sorceress, and they didn't even have any weapons to fight her with. Heck, even Stu had his homemade gun when taking on King Lot.
Sophie stopped short, remembering the scene. Of Lot pressing down on her friend, ready to slay him and end his life forever. She'd helped him somehow. Pushed with her mind in some way to drive Lot back. To help Stu win.
Maybe they weren't so defenseless after all.
She didn't know if it would work—if she could wield the same power here in the twenty-first century as she had in medieval times. But she knew she had to try. They had no alternative.
