Camelot, NY - the Once and Future King

by Vanessa Cortese

  Camelot, NY:

  The Once and Future King

  Vanessa Cortese

  Copyright © 2019 Vanessa Cortese

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 9781081358822

  To my husband, your patience throughout this process has been that of a saint.

  Yet some men say in many parts of England that King Arthur is not dead, but he had by the will of Lord Jesu into another place; and men say that he shall come again...

  Sir Thomas MAlory, Le Morte d'Arthur

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  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

  Epilogue

  Chapter One

  Doctor Elaine Lakeport dropped the final box of her belongings in the master bedroom of the massive house that she had inherited and began to wonder if she had made the wrong decision. She sighed heavily as she grabbed her desk calendar from the top of the box and made her way to the desk. She found a small box with her name on it. She stared at the box, “Well,” she said aloud in the large room. “This can’t get any weirder.” She tore the brown wrapping from the box and lifted the lid, pulling out a small thumb drive. She twirled it around in her fingers and looked around for her computer.

  “Ellie,” her sister’s voice called from downstairs.

  “Coming,” she shouted back. Elaine dropped the thumb drive into the desk drawer for safekeeping and began the long trip to the ground floor to find her sister, Lacy. Elaine managed to make a wrong turn in the huge, unfamiliar house and found herself taking the back staircase to the large, pristine kitchen instead of the living room, where she had intended to go. Her sister, Lacy, came breezing into the kitchen with an exasperated look on her face.

  “Seriously,” she shot Elaine an annoyed look, “you are going to have to call me every day. I’m beginning to think that you are going to get lost in the house and die of dehydration.”

  “I’ll figure it out,” Elaine shot back. “Telling the left from the right was never my strong suit.”

  “You were the only person ever to get kicked out of Ms. Diane’s Dance School,” Lacy crinkled her nose.

  “That was because Ms. Diane told me that the sciences were a man’s field,” Elaine crossed her arms in front of her chest, “and that I should be more concerned with finding a nice man than with my old medical textbook.”

  “Yes,” Lacy nodded, “but you didn’t have to kick her in the shins for saying it.”

  “Fine,” Elaine held up her hands in submission. She never could take the moral high ground with her sister. Lacy was a decorated veteran, an NYPD detective, and had a memory like a steel trap. “What did you want?” she asked quickly, hoping to change the subject before Lacy remembered something else horribly embarrassing.

  “I found another room in the basement,” Lacy said turning and making her way back to the entryway of the basement door that they had discovered the day before. Elaine had to jog to keep up with her sister’s long gait. “I was replacing the lightbulbs down here,” Lacy said over her shoulder, “and once I was able to get more light in here, I found this.” Lacy pointed to a large wooden door on the farthest wall of the basement.

  Elaine moved around her sister to get a better look at the door, “Is it locked?” she asked.

  “Yes,” Lacy pointed at the door again, “What’s missing though?”

  “I don’t know, Sherlock,” Elaine sighed. “What’s missing?”

  “My dear Dr. Watson,” Lacy said in mock condescension, “There is no lock on the door to unlock.” Elaine turned back to the door and looked closer. There was no lock, no keyhole, nothing that would have indicated that the door could be opened from this side of it.

  “That’s weird,” Elaine cocked her head to one side as he examined it. “Oh my god,” she said, suddenly taking a step back from the door. “You don’t think it’s like…a murder room or something, do you?”

  “Jesus, Elaine,” Lacy rolled her eyes. “You don’t really believe I wouldn’t have vetted the old lady before I let you accept the whack-job conditions of her will, do you?”

  “It’s just,” Elaine began, “we know nothing about Aunt Vivian outside of the fact that she was reclusive and would send us a birthday card each year.” Vivian Lakeport had been their great-aunt, but they had never met her. When their parents were alive, they had never even visited her.

  Out of nowhere, two months ago, Elaine was contacted by Vivian’s estate lawyer who informed her that she had left Elaine everything. The massive house on 200 acres in Camelot, ridiculous amounts of money, the collections of old books and cars. She left Lacy a generous gift of two million dollars, but then everything else belonging to the 500-million-dollar estate was to be given to Elaine, under the stipulation that she moved to Camelot, lived in the house, and continue to rent the ‘gatehouse’ to the ancient tenant, Argus Merlin.

  “Actually Ellie,” Lacy said hesitantly, “she only ever sent you birthday cards.” But before Ellie could ask for more information, Lacy changed the subject back to their bizarre relative’s background. “Aunt Vivian was perfectly normal. She had two Ph.D’s, one in history and the other in chemistry. She was arrested for assault back in the 80’s but never charged.”

  “What?” Elaine asked.

  “Apparently,” Lacy laughed “She got into it with the head of the history department at NYU about some paper that he had written. It got nasty, and he made some comment. She punched him. He did eventually drop the charges.” Elaine laughed. “Actually,” Lacy added with a sigh, “I think you would have liked her.” Before Elaine could say anything, an extremely loud buzzer sounded, making both of them, jump. “Doorbell?” Lacy offered at Elaine’s confused expression. They climbed the stairs back into the entryway and could see a figure outlined in the front door’s frosted glass.

  Elaine opened the door and was greeted by an old man who appeared as if he had stepped right out of a movie about wizards, with a long tidy white beard and hair. His face was weathered, his wrinkles etched deep, in particular, the worry lines around his forehead and mouth. He had a distinctive glint in his eyes that, try as she might, Elaine just couldn’t name. Elaine had always been good at guessing someone’s age, but with Argus Merlin, she hadn’t the foggiest idea.

  “Ms. Lakeport?” he asked in a warm, gravelly voice that for some reason struck Elaine as familiar.

  “Actually, it’s Dr. Lakeport,” Lacy said nudging Elaine.

  “Dr. Lakeport,” the old man corrected himself as Elaine extended her hand to shake. “I’m Argus Merlin. I live in the gatehouse.”

  “Oh yes,” Elaine smiled, “nice to meet you.” She offered her hand again, but the old man bent over in a formal bow instead.

  “A pleasure, my lady,” he said, the barest hint of an accent. Elaine couldn’t quite place it, but it almost sounded British or maybe German, but had obviously faded with time in the U.S. “I just wanted to introduce myself,” he beamed. “I should be getting back home though. Lots of preparations to make.”

  “Preparations?” Elaine asked.

  “The storm,” Argus Merlin said with a smile.

  “The weather report didn’t say anything about a storm,” Lacy said eyeing the old man warily.

  “Old injury,” Argus Merlin said, tapping the side of his n
ose. “I always know when a storm is coming. A pleasure to meet you Dr. Lakeport.” He turned to Lacy, “Detective Lakeport,” he said with a coy smile and nod of his head, and then he began to walk slowly away from the house. Elaine watched him go as the weirdest sensation crept over her skin.

  It was the same feeling she got when she had to deliver bad news to a patient, a shiver indicative of an unavoidable destiny.

  “That guy is weird,” Lacy said as she stole the last dumpling at dinner. They sat in the kitchen. The dining room seemed too empty and eerie with just the two of them at the massive circular table that could have very comfortably sat more than twelve.

  “You mean, Mr. Merlin?” Elaine asked, scowling at the theft.

  “Yeah,” Lacy’s eyes narrowed as she stared at the wall behind Elaine, her lips twisting into a scowl. “You’re sure that you have to keep him here?”

  “It was part of the agreement,” Elaine nodded, pushing the last of her rice around with her fork. “Mr. Merlin gets to stay in the gatehouse.”

  “I don’t like this,” Lacy said. “There is something about him that I just don’t trust.”

  “We knew about him before I agreed to it,” Elaine said as she closely watched her sister. Lacy had always had a strong intuition about certain things, and Elaine had always trusted that. If Lacy didn’t trust him…

  “I thought it was going to be an adopt-a-grandpa kinda thing,” Lacy said shoving the last of the dumpling in her mouth. “But…I can’t put my finger on it.”

  “Nothing in your background check?” Elaine asked. Lacy just shook her head. “It’ll be fine.”

  “Maybe I’ll get you a dog,” Lacy muttered, “like a retired police dog or something.”

  “I’m not going to have time for a dog, Lacy,” Elaine rolled her eyes. “I start at the hospital in two weeks.”

  “Still,” Lacy said, stabbing at her broccoli.

  “You’re just sad I’m leaving the nest,” Elaine said. “I’ve never lived more than a 20-minute drive from you, and now I’m hours away.” Lacy was all that Elaine had. Their parents had both died in a car accident when Lacy was 19 and Elaine only 15. Lacy had been what kept them together. She had become her guardian, gotten a job, and taken care of Elaine with little to no thought about herself. “You could actually have a life for the first time in years. Get a girlfriend, get married…”

  “Shut up,” Lacy glared. “I don’t even think I want to get married after…well…”

  “I know,” Elaine reached over and took her sister's hand. The last relationship that Lacy had, ended in disaster. Lacy, of course, had been devastated, but it seemed to have rattled her. “Maybe a new hobby then. You like shooting things, maybe take up hunting.” Elaine cringed inwardly at the thought, but she knew that Lacy had fond memories of hunting with their father.

  “Maybe,” Lacy smirked. “I only ever went with Dad because it was something we did together.” She sighed heavily, staring at the table before her. “I think you’re right. Maybe it is that I feel like you’re leaving…really leaving. But still,” she looked up at Elaine, “there’s something about that Merlin guy I don’t like. There is something that he’s not telling us.”

  Elaine nodded; she felt like the old man was hiding something too. Though unlike her sister, Elaine didn’t think that Argus Merlin was something to worry about. Elaine just smiled. Lacy had always been tenacious, like a dog with a bone when she got an idea in her head, and Elaine knew that Lacy wouldn’t stop until she was satisfied.

  The sun was setting when Elaine walked Lacy to her car and said goodbye. “Promise you’ll call me if something goes wrong,” she said, crushing Elaine in a hug.

  “Promise,” Elaine said. Lacy got in her car and began the long drive down the driveway and back to New York. Elaine took a moment to look at the house. The old Victorian mansion rose up like a large, freshly painted, white beacon in amid the green of property, windows reflecting the golden-orange hues of the setting sun. A large lake bathed in gold light was a short walk to the west, with a long, well-maintained dock.

  “It is beautiful,” Elaine muttered uncomfortably to herself. Ever since the moment that the lawyer had contacted her, she had been uneasy. The stipulations of the will were not bad, and she had been drowning in student loan debt, so the easy thing to do was to take the money and agree to the conditions. “But why leave me all of this?” Elaine asked herself. “Vivian didn’t even know me.”

  “Don’t question your good luck,” Lacy had told her at the will reading.

  All Elaine could do at that moment was question her good luck. Elaine would never tell Lacy, but she was dreading living in the house by herself. It was far too big for just one person. Part of her wondered if she should find a roommate or two, as she sighed heavily, and walked back inside, making sure to lock the door behind her.

  Elaine wandered around the house for a good hour and was very proud that she only got lost once. As soon as she felt tired, she took a shower and brushed her teeth. She checked the door one last time before she climbed into the large antique four poster bed in the master bedroom that had been Vivian’s. She curled to one side to plug in her cell phone and remembered Argus Merlin’s vague words earlier about a storm. With a few punches on her screen, she found the weather report to see nothing but crystal-clear skies in the forecast for the next few days. She shook her head and shut off the lamp on her nightstand, making a mental note to keep a close eye on her rather ancient neighbor, all the while feeling like she was forgetting something important.

  Chapter Two

  Elaine’s eyes shot open. The wind was howling, whistling through the trees, making her shiver. The rain pounded down on the roof so hard that she could feel it through the bed. Lightning lit up her room, and the accompanying crash of thunder followed a heartbeat later. Worst of all was the frantic pounding on her front door.

  She threw herself out of bed and tore down the stairs, tripping over the unfamiliar rugs in the hall, and almost running into the door as she opened it to reveal Argus Merlin standing on her porch. A crack of lightning lit up his face, and he looked manic.

  “Mr. Merlin,” she yelled, trying to make sure that he could hear her over the storm. “What’s wrong?” Immediately she was envisioning the worst-case scenario; the roof of the gatehouse collapsing under a torrent of water, a tree being blown over by the wind, and falling into the window of his kitchen. “Are you ok?” she asked, scanning him with a critical eye.

  “It’s happening!” he whooped into the storm and grabbed her wrist trying to pull her along with an impossible strength for a man of his advanced years. “Come! Come!” he cried. Elaine had no words. She stared at the ninety-something-year-old man, who apparently wanted her to come out and play in a hurricane.

  “Mr. Merlin,” she pulled back gently, trying to coax him into her house. “Come inside. It’s too dangerous.” A dementia episode? She wondered but knew that didn’t seem right. Even manic, he appeared to be in complete control of his faculties.

  “My dear lady,” he called, releasing her and agilely darting down the stairs to the lawn. “There is no time. You have to come.” With that, the ninety-year-old man began to run across her lawn and directly toward the lake.

  Elaine cursed. She grabbed the only ‘coat’ she had unpacked, a grey and purple hoodie, pulled on a pair of tennis shoes and grabbing her medical kit from the closet, she slung it over her shoulder and took off after the old man.

  Argus Merlin had stopped on the shore next to the long dock and stared off into the dark waters, being pelted by the torrential rains, his long hair and beard being tossed about in the wind. As she drew close, Elaine could feel the winds pick up, whipping water and her own unbound hair around.

  “Mr. Merlin,” she tried again. “It’s not safe out here.” As if in response to her words, lightning hit the ground not twenty yards from where they stood; thunder shook the ground beneath her feet, eliciting a startled shriek. “We have to get out of here,”
she screamed over the storm, eyeing the nearby trees warily. Argus Merlin began to dig around in his pockets frantically.

  “Elaine,” he called, and she was by his side in an instant, hoping against hope that he had realized what a terrible idea this was. He pulled out a piece of old paper and handed it to her. “You have to read it.”

  “We have to go inside,” she called as the wind began to whistle again, and she could hear the creaking of the tree and snapping of branches from the unnatural gusts.

  “Read it,” his pleading eyes met hers in the dark, and she knew that she had to read it. She felt that it was important that she read it, on the shore of the lake, in terrible weather. Elaine began to tremble as she took the piece of paper in her hands and tried to hold it as still as she could. She tried to explain the sensation away as logic. She told herself that if she read it, she could convince the old man to go back to her house, where she could make sure that he was ok. The elegant handwritten words were difficult to read in almost no light, but she had to make due…

  It was vital that she read the words…

  “I call to thee,” she shouted, the words making her tremble even harder as they evoked a sense of déjà vu. Have I said this before? She wondered, as she cleared her throat and began to read them again. “I call to thee, through time. The world is in shadowed, and the time has come for your return. By the power of Avalon, heed the call of the light and cross. Hear my voice, O’rightful king of Camelot, Master of Excalibur, Liege lord of the Round Table, hear my voice, and come back to me.” Elaine looked out across the water, and gasped.

  The wind had stopped howling. The rain had frozen in its place, hovering in the air, defying all laws of physics. Lightning crashed on the surface of the lake, forcing her gaze away from the bright white light, as the world came crashing back to rights. Blinking away the pain from the sudden light, Elaine turned her gaze back across the water.