“Arthur,” he heard it again, and froze. Her voice sounded desperate and scared, and it ripped out his heart to hear her like that. He took a tentative step forward. “Arthur,” he heard her again. Another step forward, “Arthur, please.”
He didn’t think, he just began to run.
Run towards her voice. He couldn’t be hallucinating, could he? He turned a corner and her voice stopped. Arthur panicked spinning around on the spot trying to find her again. He nearly slammed into Lacy as he did.
“Do you know where she is?” she grabbed him by the arms and held him in place.
“Arthur,” he heard Elaine’s voice again and sighed in relief.
“Not exactly,” he said. “It’s complicated.” There was no time to explain.
“I don’t care how you do it,” Lacy dropped her hands. “But if you think you can find her, do it.” Arthur nodded and began to run again, following the voice with Lacy hot on his heels.
Chapter Twelve
It must have been a few miles before they ran smack into an old meat packing company. The building was a dilapidated two-story, the roof caved-in in more than a few sections, but the lights were on in an upstairs window.
“There,” Lacy pointed, and she lunged at the door. Arthur put a hand out to stop her.
“She’s not up there,” he said. He didn’t know how he knew, but he knew. Lacy didn’t question him, she crouched down and pulled a small gun out of an ankle holster.
“Here,” she passed it to him. “Do you know how to use it?” Arthur nodded. He may have been more comfortable with a sword in his hands, but he was more than proficient with a gun. Jack Lakeport had seen to that in 1944. “We check the first floor together, after that, we split up. I’m going up,” she said. “You see if there is a basement. We’ll meet on the first floor if we don’t find anything. If you find her, call the police, and then call me. I’ll do the same.” Arthur still had Elaine’s phone in his pocket. He hadn’t really figured out how to use it, but he would have to.
Arthur nodded, and he and Lacy made their way into the first floor of the building. They slowly cleared the floor, making sure that no one was there. Arthur knew that no one was there. Knew Elaine was below them, and if she was down there that meant…
Silently, Lacy got his attention and indicated that she was going up the staircase. Arthur nodded, and cast his eyes about for the staircase downwards. He found it and took a deep breath. He slowly made his way down, his gun trained into the large processing room. Meat hooks hung from the ceiling, “Arthur,” Elaine’s voice whispered as he hit the bottom of the stairs. Arthur didn’t see any evidence that she was in the room. Another step forward, and he heard her voice again.
On the far side of the room, Arthur saw a large steel door. He knew he should make sure that Morgan or Mordred were not lying in wait, but he rushed across the room and pulled at the handle of the door. The hinges squealed in protest, but he pulled it open.
“Elaine,” he called. He could see her slumped on the ground, her shivering visible from where he stood. He was by her side in a few quick strides. It wasn’t until he put his hand on her arm that she realized he was even there.
“Arthur,” she cried, and she tried to sit up. He could see now that her lips were blue, and her skin was following. She was literally freezing to death. Arthur pulled off the sweater he was wearing and tried to pull it over her shoulders. Elaine wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her nose there. “I didn’t think you’d find me,” she sobbed.
He shushed her, wrapping an arm around her, burying his nose in her hair. He breathed deeply for a moment. He knew that Lacy should be called immediately, he should call an ambulance. He should call the police. But he waited. When he had seen her, lying on the floor, his heart had ripped in two. He had only just met her, been back in the world for only a few days and his biggest fear had already come to pass.
He had already let her down.
He pulled back, cradling her head in his hands, “Your sister is here,” Elaine blinked her eyes unfocused as he let go of her and tried to get the sweater on her again. He hoisted her up and carried her out of the massive freezer and into the low-lit room beyond. Once he set her on the ground, he handed her the cell phone. He may have been able to answer a call but trying to find Lacy’s number was beyond his capability. Elaine handed the phone back to him, and he placed it to his ear, hearing the ringing.
“Elaine?” Lacy’s frantic voice came through the phone.
“It’s me,” Arthur said. “I found her.” The line went dead, but he wasn’t worried. He knew Lacy would be fine. “She’s coming,” he said to Elaine as he shoved the phone back into his pocket. She made a noise and nodded her head. Her eyes drifted closed and Elaine went slack in his arms. “Elaine?” he asked, fingers desperately searching for the pulse point in her neck. When he found the fluttering rhythm of her heartbeat beneath his fingers, he relaxed.
He placed her arms back around his neck and lifted her once more, making his way back up to the first floor. He heard a scuttle behind him and whipped his head around. He saw nothing, but he knew that Morgan was there watching him. Her gaze always made his skin crawl. “You failed,” he growled to the seemingly empty room.
“For now,” her voice, cold and calm, floated from the shadows. “I’ll see you soon.” There was a swirling in the darkest corner of the room, and the sensation stopped. Morgan was gone.
Wondering if he had missed his chance to stop Morgan for good, Arthur hefted Elaine and continued making his way back up the stairs.
Chapter Thirteen
Elaine woke in a bed in the hospital, the steady beeping of the heart monitor loud to her sensitive ears. She kept her eyes closed for a few moments, but she noticed the uptick in her heartbeat from years of practice.
She had been kidnapped.
She had only gotten the briefest glimpse of the people who had taken her when she had awoken slightly before slipping back under again only to wake up in the freezer. Something about one of the faces tickled her memory, a man and a woman; the man younger by nearly a decade. The woman didn’t look familiar but the man...he did, she just couldn’t put her finger on it.
Elaine remembered Arthur bursting in through the door of the freezer, and her heartbeat sped up as she remembered losing it and sobbing in his arms. She knew that she didn’t need to be embarrassed, but she was. She exhaled slowly and hoped she was ready for what was to come, and finally opened her eyes.
“I thought you might be awake,” Merlin said from the seat next to her bed. She nodded slowly, the small action aggravating her sore muscles.
“Where’s Arthur?” she asked.
“Talking to the police,” Merlin said, switching off his tablet and fixing her with a dark gaze. “His miraculous discovery of where you were being held has made them a bit suspicious.” Elaine cringed, knowing that having the police look at Arthur as a suspect was only going to make their lives more difficult.
“And Lacy?” she asked, realizing that it was odd that her sister was not pacing by her bedside waiting for her to wake.
“Trying to defend Arthur against the accusations of the local police,” Merlin said, “Though what he did to ingratiate himself to her, I don’t know.”
“He kind of grows on you,” Elaine chuckled, wincing. Merlin nodded, but continued to stare at Elaine, waiting for something. “What is it?” she asked. Elaine didn’t have the strength to guess for herself.
“How is it that Arthur found you?” he asked. “Arthur said something about a spell, but…”
“But I don’t know how to do magic,” she finished for him. Merlin nodded. “I had read about a locating spell last night. I…I don’t know. I just knew that I had to do it.” She had been desperate; she had needed Arthur to find her. She wasn’t sure why it had worked, and she didn’t care. Now that she was going to live, she could figure it out.
Merlin studied her with narrowed eyes, “I rather think your success came from acc
eptance more than anything else.” Elaine looked down and studied the IV in her hand. It was annoying how right Merlin was. Elaine had been fighting this…all of this. The logical part of her brain refused to accept what was happening right before her. It was the reason she had surmised that she had refused to call Arthur by name. “I do hope,” Merlin smiled slyly, “that you turn your new-found acceptance to our next lesson.”
“I’m lying in a hospital bed,” Elaine glared “And all you can think about it your next torturous magic lesson?”
“Forgive my enthusiasm,” Merlin chuckled. “But with your achievement yesterday, I believe you may prove to be my most promising student in a few hundred years.” Elaine resisted the urge to laugh. The door to the room burst open, and Lacy came rushing in, throwing herself at Elaine, and wrapping her up in a massive hug. Before Elaine could return the gesture, her vision blurred, and her sister was gone.
Elaine was standing on a grassy knoll staring at an unfamiliar man. He was tall and fair, dark hair hung to his ears, with a neatly trimmed beard. Elaine heard a voice that was not her own shout, “Lancelot,” and the man turned, and as he did, his figure started to morph and change. Change until he looked like Lacy.
“No,” Elaine whispered as her vision returned to normal. She wrapped her arms tightly around her sister.
“No what?” Lacy whispered pulling away slightly. Elaine stared at her sister and made a decision. Lacy didn’t deserve this, Lancelot or no.
“Sorry,” Elaine tried to laugh even as she felt all the blood drain from her face. “I’m just sore all over. Don’t squeeze that hard.” Lacy laughed and pulled Elaine back into a hug.
Lacy had spent years protecting Elaine, and now it was her turn. Elaine vowed then and there, to never tell a soul that her sister was Lancelot.
Epilogue
Morgan Le Fay entered her penthouse apartment in Manhattan and tossed her keys on the floor. A Brownie scurried to pick them up, cowering from her as it did.
“In the end,” James sat in the large open living room, mashing buttons on the controller of his PS4, “this all proved futile.” He spoke in an even, distracted tone, as most of his attention was on his game. Morgan rolled her neck and shed the fur stole around her shoulders as she flicked her wrist, and the lights went out for only a moment.
“Damn it,” James shot up and shouted. “I hadn’t hit the save point yet,” he turned to Morgan and was greeted with a slap across the cheek. He dropped the controller and stood up straight. If he was hurt, he knew better than to show it. “I’m sorry, mother.”
“For what?” she asked.
“For playing the game while I spoke to you,” James replied. Morgan slapped him again, this time splitting his lip. She waited impatiently while James wiped away the blood. “I should have turned the system off when you walked in the door.
“Better,” Morgan said. “How many times have I told you, Mordred?”
James eyes looked distant and vacant as he responded, “Enough that I should know better Mother.”
“Good answer,” Morgan hissed. “And for your information,” she looked at James as his eyes fixed on a wall. He knew better than to look her in the eye. “This was anything but futile. We know where the Lady of the Lake is, we know where Arthur is, and I mean to make the most of this rare opportunity.” She stood before James and studied his face for any hint of defiance before she patted him on the cheek she had just slapped. “Go to bed, Mordred. We have a lot to do tomorrow.”
“Yes, Mother,” James said, and he cowered as he walked past her, as if expecting another blow. Morgan smiled at the reaction. This Mordred had needed to be trained. When she had found him, he was far too kind, far too gentle, far too much like Arthur when he had been a boy.
She moved across the large space to a wooden trunk on the ground. Unlike the Lady of the Lake, she didn’t need to hoard accounts of her exploits from the last fifteen hundred years. She never passed on her title. She had discovered a way to be immortal. And her secret lay in the trunk. She placed a hand on it and lifted the lid. She smiled as she gazed upon the scabbard. The key to her immortality, the key to her youth.
“If Arthur can break the rules,” she said drawing a well-manicured finger along the relic. “Then so can I.” She had spoken these words to herself countless times over the centuries. But never had she been in such a good position to end Arthur for once and for all.
About the Author
Vanessa Cortese lives in Northern California, oddly enough - right on a lake, with her husband, wonderful children and two corgis. More information about her other works can be found at www.vanesscortese.com
Camelot, NY - the Once and Future King Page 6
