Avalon's Last Knight

by Jackson C. Garton

  “You’re the one who spoke to Arthur.” The sound of rushing water surrounds me, yet I can’t see it or touch it. “You are the Lady of the Lake.”

  She laughs, the sound eerily similar to that of the inside of a conch shell. “I am. Why have you waited so long to come to me? I have been waiting here for years.”

  “Are you kidding me?” I reply. “How the hell could I have known? If Mordy and Morgan had never come here, I might have never known. You’re literally at the bottom of a fuckin’ lake.”

  “That’s not true. Your eyes have seen all of the signs. You were born with a third eye, Lancelot.”

  I can’t argue with that. Auras, spirits, numerology, the mystical and the mythical—I’ve always seen and believed in everything, not because I wanted to, or because I went seeking for it—phenomena always just made their way toward me. It had been one of the reasons why I had been asked to stop coming to church—telling a Southern Baptist preacher in front of his congregation that angels are speaking to you instead of him can be quite upsetting when he’s trying to collect the tithe.

  “All right, so say you’re right. I’m here now. What do you want from me?”

  “Nothing,” she says. “I only wish to leave you with this bit of information…”

  The dark space is suddenly as cold as the first day of winter. I shudder and rub my hands together. I wonder if we’re in an underground cavern or something like that. “Okay,” I say. “What is it?”

  “As much as it pains me to say this, you must drive Galantine through the Merlin’s heart.”

  I groan. “Yeah, murdering that man is already on my list.”

  “He cannot drink from the Grail. You must destroy it as well. Only white fire can do this.”

  “White fire?” I ask. “What the hell is that?”

  “The white witch traveling with you, she is the one whose counsel you seek.”

  “White witch? Who? Do you mean Gwen?”

  “Lancelot,” she says. A dainty hand rests on my shoulder, and I strain my eyes to see the rest of her body. “You are our only hope. The necromancer has walked this earth for long enough. Destroy the cycle of rebirth, please. It is time for my husband to be stopped.”

  Husband? Olivia Crabtree.

  “Wait,” I shout, groping the darkness. “There’s so much more I need to know! Don’t send me back just yet! What do I need to do with this goddamn scabbard? Olivia! Viviane!”

  When I finally regain my senses, I find myself sitting in the back of Mordy’s SUV, my head propped against the warm window. Morgan and Gwen are seated beside me, each of my hands resting in one of theirs.

  “Lance,” Morgan says. “Can you hear me?” I stare at her blankly. “He’s not saying anything. Should I pinch him? His eyes are wide open.”

  “Hey,” I say, putting my hands up. “No need for violence. I can hear you all right.”

  Gwen is the next to speak. “Goddamn it. You’re going to send me to an early grave. What happened back there?”

  An image of Olivia pops into my mind. “The Lady of the Lake spoke to me.”

  “Are you serious? What did she say?” Gwen is a bundle of nerves. “Well?”

  “That we need to destroy the Merlin,” I say, my eyes landing on the hilt of the sword that now rests in between the passenger seat and center console. “And his godforsaken Holy Grail.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  The Banshee

  “Will you move in with me?” Arthur pops the question like he’s been holding it in for a while now. “Er. I mean…”

  “What?” I say. For the past two and a half months I’ve been staying with him, so I don’t understand his request. “What do you mean? What do you call what I’ve been doin’?”

  He squirms underneath my weight and shifts his arms, placing them behind his head. “I dunno. I’m not really sure what I’m trying to say here.”

  I push up from the truck bed and scan his face, searching for a motive, anything to indicate how he’s feeling.

  Arthur’s been acting strange lately, not like before, when he had been concerned with Mordy, but overly affectionate and adhesive. Last week when I’d come home from the mausoleum with my arm covered in blood, wearing a tattered hoodie, he’d insisted that I be more careful, more attentive of my surroundings, even raising his voice at me. I had never seen him so passionate about anything before. We haven’t spoken about me returning to Lexington yet—which will happen in two weeks—and I’m not sure if I should use this opportunity to discuss it.

  “I guess what I mean is… I want you to actually live with me. Obviously not while you’re in school, but like, when you come back. It would be our home. You don’t have to if you don’t wanna. It’s just a thought. Actually, never mind, forget I said anything.” Sometimes Arthur acts and sounds like an unsure teenager, an indecisive kid trapped in an overgrown body. I bend down and kiss him, to stop his lips from quivering.

  “How long have you been sittin’ on this?” I ask, brushing his lip with my finger.

  “I don’t really wanna tell you because you’ll think I’m a freak,” he says, keeping his eye on the side of the truck.

  I have witnessed demonic possession numerous times now, spoken to an Aztec goddess and accepted some snake dagger from her, and opened a fucking casket in search of a magickal scabbard, and he thinks I’m in a place to judge him. “Just tell me.”

  He shakes his head and attempts to change the subject. “When did you say Gwen was supposed to get here?”

  “Arthur.” I drag my knees across the aluminum and straddle his torso. This catches his attention immediately, and he turns to me. “You’ve never been shy around me.”

  “That’s not true,” he says, his hands sliding up and down my thighs. “There are lots of things I keep to myself.”

  “At this point there’s nothing you could say that would freak me out, so why don’t you just tell me?”

  “Since you got here,” he admits, in a whisper. “I mean, fuck, you’re about to leave me in two weeks, and then I won’t see you until November. That’s what…three months? Holy shit, that’s a long time. I won’t see you again until Thanksgiving!”

  So there it is. “Is that why you’ve been acting weird? Hey, don’t close your eyes. Look at me.”

  “Things were really awful for me last year,” he replies. “I don’t want to make you feel bad, because it wasn’t your fault, but I was a fuckin’ mess. You have no idea. Gwen had to talk me out of driving to Lexington more than once. And yes, I already know that I sound like a fucking psycho.”

  “If we’re going to do this, you better not argue with me about paying rent. I mean it.”

  The streetlight directly overhead flickers a few times before turning on, and I fasten my mouth on his before he can protest or object to my conditions. I don’t want to think about the possibility that I might be gone by the end of this week, that I might not live to see next Monday, that I will have to trade something precious in order to keep Arthur alive.

  I snatch the hem of his shirt and press my body into his with an urgency I haven’t felt since arriving here two months ago. Arthur doesn’t know about the trade—nor do Mordy or Gwen, for that matter, because how the fuck am I supposed to tell them that I might have to trade my life for Arthur’s? Mordy certainly wouldn’t allow it, and neither would Gwen. The only person who knows is Morgan, and every time it gets brought up, I dance around her tune, carefully avoiding the refrain.

  “Lance,” Arthur says, retreating from my lips. “Can I be weird for a minute and ask you a question?” I adjust my head on his shoulder, and nod. “Do you believe in the concept of soulmates?”

  “Yes,” I reply. “I do.”

  “And if I told you that I think you’re my soulmate, would that freak you out?”

  I take his hand into mine, interlocking our fingers, and extend our elbows in an outward motion. “A little.”

  “Because sometimes I feel like I’ve known you my whole life, like I
can’t remember a time when I didn’t feel this way about you.” He pauses, and continues, “It’s like when I first saw you, everything unfolded in slo-mo and the earth stood still, like I was hit with the world’s biggest case of déjà vu. I sound fuckin’ nuts, I know.”

  I bring his knuckles to my lips. “I feel the same way.”

  Because we have known each other our entire lives—present and past—we just didn’t know it.

  “I have something I need to talk to you about, but now’s not the best time, I think.”

  “Okay,” I say. “Well, I’m not going anywhere.” At least I hope I’m not.

  Earlier today, Gwen had asked Arthur if he wouldn’t mind giving her a lift after she got off work. Her car had broken down on the side of the highway two days ago, and she refuses to ask our parents for help. We’ve been sitting out here in his truck for the past hour waiting for her shift to end.

  Lately, things haven’t been so hot for my sister. Lena hadn’t given her a week to pack like had originally been planned, so Arthur had offered to let her crash at his place a few days ago, and she’s been staying with us ever since. We haven’t lived with each other for the past two years, and it’s been really nice having her around, waking up to the sound of her making pancakes, and sitting outside, underneath the stars, talking till sunrise. Just the three of us hanging out, like old times.

  “Hey, y’all.” Gwen’s head suddenly appears over ours and she drops a bag of fragrant cinnamon rolls on Arthur’s chest. “Liv said to toss those, so I figured I’d bring ‘em home. What you two doing out here?” Her eyebrow arches and she crosses her arms.

  “Waiting for your broke ass,” I reply. “What else?”

  “Are we still on for tonight? Is it really necessary?” Gwen’s voice is shaky and low. “Are you sure you think it’s wise to break into your work? That’s literally breaking and entering, Lance.”

  What Gwen doesn’t get is that sometimes you have to break the law in order to help the ones you love, or at least that’s what I’ve been telling myself for the past few hours. Mordy would agree, but then again, I think Mordy would be down for hooligan shit at all times. He’s good like that.

  “Yes, I know. But what if this helps us find Tammy?” I feel Arthur’s body tense underneath mine. Ever since he found out Emmett might have had something to do with her disappearance, just mentioning my boss’s name has put him on edge. “Arthur will pull up behind the store, and I’ll be in and out of there in no time.”

  “Whoa. Absolutely not,” Arthur protests. “You’re crazy if you think I’m letting you go in there alone. Emmett could be a deranged lunatic for all we know. What are you gonna to do if he is an evil wizard? You said it yourself, you’re not prepared to fight him yet. You can’t just waltz up in there and stick a goddamn knife in his side.”

  I climb out of the truck and hop down onto the pavement. “Fine. We can all go in there together, but don’t say I didn’t warn you if—and when—we get busted for being in there. That’s not on my ass.”

  * * * *

  Midnight rolls around before we know it. Arthur parks his truck in an alley next to the store and the three of us do our best to walk in the shadows. I text the twins to let them know that we’re going into Camelot’s, and that I’ll keep them posted if I find anything of importance. So far no one is patrolling this area of downtown, and I take it as a good sign.

  “How are we going to break in there anyway?” Gwen whispers.

  “I have a key to the back door,” I say.

  Gwen grabs my arm and pulls me aside. “A fucking key,” she hisses. “Why didn’t you say so before?”

  I shrug. “Because I’m a dick, and because you never asked.” I retrieve my arm from her vise-like grip. “Now stop talking and get out of my way. Arthur, please make sure you keep an eye on my sister. All we need is someone setting off the alarm. And don’t look at me like that, you know damn well you’re scared of the dark.” Gwen sticks her tongue out at me. “All right, here we go.”

  The back of the store is dark, hidden by black forms and shapes that seem to move on their own. It would make sense if there were a fan or something overhead to generate an airflow, to fondle curtains or large sheets of construction paper, something, but there isn’t anything other than heavy boxes of shit blocking nearly every path leading out of the room. I don’t know why, but the storage room smells like a dumpster, stuffy and acrid, full of dry air, much like a tomb. Gwen is the first to say something about it.

  “What the fuck is that?” she snarls. “Does it normally smell like this?” She cups her mouth with her hand.

  “Not normally, I don’t guess. Can you make things lighter in here?” I ask. “I’m afraid if we turn the lights on, it might be too obvious. And someone might see us.”

  “Holy shit! It smells like vinegar and rotten eggs back here,” Arthur adds. “Jesus, it’s strong enough to knock you out.”

  Gwen reaches into her purse and pulls out her cell phone. “What’s wrong with using the flashlight on our phones?” When I see her eyes widen, I know that her phone is dead, or nearly dead. Lately, I have had to leave my phone plugged into the wall whenever I’m at work because the battery drains almost immediately when I walk through the door. “Oh, shit,” she says. “This is a new discovery, yes?”

  I nod. “It is. Ever since Morgan shattered that glass everywhere, the energy in this place has been on the fritz. One day the phone will stay on one hundred percent all day, and the next, it will die as soon as you walk in here. I thought maybe my phone was just fucked, but then Mordy told me his phone drains anytime he walks down this block. I don’t think it’s mere coincidence. I think it’s this place that’s doing it, because it only ever happens when I’m here.” Arthur checks his phone, and it’s dead, too. “See?”

  I can tell Gwen is disturbed by the whole situation, and the sooner we get out of here the better. The store is so dark that I can’t see anything, and I keep falling over boxes, tripping over racks of plastic-wrapped fabric. Emmett must have received a new shipment of products, because this room was empty the last time I was in here, not even two days ago.

  “Do you know where we’re going?” Gwen asks. “Because I’m starting to freak out a little.”

  When she finally casts her enchantments, a tiny white orb appears in the middle of the room, so small that I almost miss it. Gwen goes to the light and cradles it very carefully in two hands.

  “Hello there,” she purrs, her voice low. “I won’t hurt you, and I’m sorry to have bothered you, but we need help getting through these halls.” The orb’s color changes erratically, first yellow, then green and finally red. It’s like watching a faulty streetlight in a storm. I take a step forward and it shoots out of Gwen’s hands, heading straight for Arthur.

  “Oh shit, Queenie!” he yells. “What does it want with me?”

  A befuddled Christmas firefly, the orb zooms around Arthur, cycling through colors, until it suddenly drops to the ground. We all stare at the little ball of light in silence. The faint sound of bells fills the room, and I stare at the creature in awe. Just what the fuck did Gwen conjure up?

  “Hob’s lantern,” Gwen says, as if answering the unspoken question. “Arthur, it’s chosen you. It clearly doesn’t want to fool with me.”

  I can’t actually tell if Gwen’s feelings are hurt, or if she’s getting irritated by the darkness and smell, but we really don’t have time to address this, whatever it is.

  “All right then,” I say. “Pick it up. We don’t have all day.” Arthur shoots me a concerned look. “Okay, I don’t think it will hurt you. It’s a goddamn ball of light.”

  Arthur leads us out of the storage room and into the hallway. The hob’s lantern is barely bright enough for us to see, but I’ve worked here for over two months, so I’m familiar with the setup, and it will just have to suffice for the time being.

  To our left are two rooms, a unisex bathroom and a utility closet, and to our right are two more room
s, a poor excuse for a break room and Emmett’s messy-ass office. When we come to the front of the store, the place where I spend most of my time when I’m here, headlights appear in the distance, and we all duck down in a panic, knocking into one another like bowling pins.

  We’re supposed to kill an all-powerful, thousand-year-old necromancer, and the mere sight of a car provokes instant hysteria. Yeah, okay. Sure.

  After the vehicle is no longer in view, we hurl ourselves to our feet, determined to get the hell out of here ASAP. Gwen takes my arm and Arthur holds the orb outward like it’s the most valuable diamond in the world or something.

  When we search the front of the store, we find nothing remotely incriminating. I see that Caspian has taken the liberty of crossing out my name with a Sharpie on the store calendar, replacing it with his own. Stupid ass.

  “I have an idea,” I say. “Ain’t nothin’ up here. Why don’t we look in the back? Arthur can stand in the hallway. I’ll go into Emmett’s office, and you can check out the break room.”

  Gwen bristles. “Are you kidding me? You want me to go into one of those rooms by myself? Have you lost your fuckin’ mind?”

  “Arthur is going to be right there, dude. If you need him to stand closer to your doorway, fine. I just think those will be the best rooms to search if Emmett is hiding something. Make sure you open all of the lockers. Sometimes Caspian takes an hour lunch break, and there’s no telling what he’s doing back there.”

  “Is Caspian the short, goofy guy who has purple hair and a jailhouse neck tattoo?”

  “Yes,” I tell Gwen. “The other guy got fired a few weeks ago. It’s just been me and Caspian steering the ship for a while now. I thought I already told you that.”

  All three of us amble toward the back of the store, afraid of what we might find—or what might find us. My eyes adjust well enough to the darkness, and I head straight for the office. Gwen chases after Arthur, muttering words of discontent, and I hear her bang a leg on the side of the wall. If we get out of here alive tonight, I’ll be shocked.