The Eighth Excalibur

by Luke Mitchell

  For a few seconds, Nate couldn’t look away. It was like staring into the goddamn sun. Then, with a light skitter of claws on shingles, Copernicus appeared beside his head and broke the spell. Tiny tongue a-lolling, the corgi stared through the barred window, then to Nate, then back to the window.

  “I know, boy,” Nate muttered. “That’s… that’s just not right.”

  Copernicus cocked his head, as if to ask why Nate was staring so hard then, or maybe what he was going to do about it. Both of which were damn good questions. Because much as he didn’t want to be seeing this shit in the first place, he had seen it. And he was pretty damn sure there was no unseeing it. The only question was what he was going to do next.

  Probably, he should start by getting off of the freaking rooftop. For a brief instant, wild ideas of breaking up their fun and setting Todd straight for this bullshit flashed through Nate’s head, but they were just as quickly followed by vivid imaginings of Todd ripping those iron bars off the window and busting out here to hurl Nate headfirst down to his death to keep Gwen from ever finding out. Or just for fun, take your pick.

  Yep. Step one, get the F out of here. Because as deeply pissed as Nate was at Todd’s boundless audacity, the one thing he knew for sure was that he needed to live long enough to make sure Gwen knew about this. Plus, the sight and sound of Emily Atherton getting pounded halfway through the headboard somehow made it kind of hard to picture him tapping on the window and putting Todd in his place.

  “Come on, boy. We’re gonna get you down and then—”

  Why Copernicus chose that moment to bark, Nate couldn’t have said. But the corgi did. And he did it loudly.

  “—fuck was that?” came Todd’s unmistakable voice from inside.

  “It’s nothing,” Emily groaned, turning her head enough to talk and pushing herself against him more insistently. “Don’t stop, babe. He’ll be fine. Just—god, don’t stop.”

  Nate lay perfectly still, his hand clamped over Copernicus’ muzzle, and watched as Todd took a few half-hearted thrusts, still peering suspiciously at the window, practically staring straight at them. If the lunk hadn’t been in a lit room staring out into the darkness, he would’ve seen Nate and Copernicus in a heartbeat. But he didn’t.

  Did he?

  Nate stayed frozen, feeling some of that anger trickling back in. Anger that he should be made to feel afraid in this moment, having caught King Squanto himself red-handed in the act. That any one man, even one so divinely gifted as Todd, could actually have the audacity to be so bored with the attention of not one, but two beautiful women in a single night that something so benign as a dog bark could actually pull him away from Emily Atherton’s gyrating pleas.

  Why couldn’t the chiseled prick just be happy?

  Why couldn’t he just turn around and forget about it?

  For a second, Todd visibly thought about doing just that. Then he pulled out of Emily and bent to pluck something from the floor, just out of sight.

  “Todd, what the fuck?” came Emily’s muffled voice. “I was almost there. What’re you—”

  But whatever else she said was lost to Nate’s numb brain as Todd appeared right in the window, glaring straight at them like a vengeful bronze god. For a second, Nate was too startled to move. Then Todd snarled and jabbed a finger at the window in a clear sign for, I’m gonna kill you, IT Guy, and Nate damn near rolled off the rooftop in his haste to flee.

  “Come on, boy!” he hissed, gathering up Copernicus, who was now growling and barking at Todd in earnest. He scooted them back to the edge and realized with a curse that Emily wasn’t here to do the chair-on-the-deck handoff they’d antagonistically perfected over the last few rounds of their begrudging alliance.

  He eyed the descent into darkness. The drop was close to fifteen feet, he knew, but at the crash of a slamming door and the sound of Emily’s startled, “Where are you going?” from back in the house, Nate decided a second fall was the least of the two evils.

  “We’re gonna roll, boy,” Nate whispered. “You understand?”

  By way of reply, Copernicus squirmed in his arms, legs kicking like he was trying to run in place.

  “Good enough, then,” Nate said.

  And with a silent prayer to the gods of parkour, he jumped.

  Cool, rushing air, and darkness swallowing him whole. He had all of a split millisecond to remember to keep his feet together like he’d seen in a video somewhere, then that rushing darkness kicked back. Hard.

  Nate let it take him, knees buckling, pitching forward, thinking rolling thoughts, and straining above all else not to land right on top of Copernicus. The world spun, utterly dark. Something slammed into his shoulder. He thudded to his back and coughed out the better half of his breath.

  And that was that.

  Nate lay in the darkness for a few shocked breaths, trying to wrap his head around the fact that he actually felt fine, albeit a little jostled, and that Copernicus was happily panting away in his arms. Then a door ripped open and slammed back shut somewhere behind, and someone came thudding across the porch.

  Todd.

  Cursing himself for having wasted precious seconds, Nate set a barking Copernicus down and rolled over, scrambling for his feet. He planted his hands in the grass, getting his legs under him, and—

  Impact ripped through his head, and the world exploded in a shower of pain and bright lights. Nate lay there, vaguely aware that he’d somehow ended up on his back, his vision swimming with a kaleidoscope of effervescent stars and iridescent blurs that he could only assume were the dying cries of concussed brain cells. In the darkness, Copernicus was growling.

  “Arturi!” someone hissed.

  Todd?

  “What the fuck are you doing here, you little freak?”

  For a second, Nate was so surprised to realize that, one, Todd Mackleroy actually knew his last name and that, two, the Greek God A-hole had just kicked him straight in the freaking head, that he almost forgot to be afraid. Then the shadows moved, something yanked him up by the chest, and the world lit up in a second eruption of bright pain.

  “I asked you a question, fuck-face. What’re you, some kinda perv? Or you just think it’s funny, fucking with another bro’s game?”

  Game? Nate’s twice-thumped brain tried to process. What the hell was he…

  “You…” Nate groaned. Why was it so hard to form words right now? “You call this… a game?”

  For some reason Nate couldn’t wrap his spinning head around, Todd chuckled at that.

  “Fucking virgins,” he muttered.

  Something constricted on Nate’s chest. Todd’s fist, he registered, yanking him up by the shirt again. Nate flinched, expecting another blow, but none came. Instead, Todd just patted his cheek in the darkness, leaning down close enough that Nate could just make out the dark shape of his face.

  “Let me put this in terms you can understand, choir boy. You never saw shit. And if you ever say otherwise—if I get even the faintest hint that my Gwenny Bear thinks I’m getting it on the side, I’ll fucking kill you, Arturi. I’ll bake you into a fucking pie, and I’ll feed you to Bonzer like the hundred pounds of IT Pussy you are. You understand me?”

  Nate glared at Todd’s silhouette, wanting to tell him to go fuck himself. Wanting to spit in his perfect face. For a second, he pictured himself striking up with his right foot, catching Todd with a swift kick right to his damn cheating nuts.

  Then a thud of impact and a blinding stab of pain in his ribs brought him crashing straight back down to reality violently fast. Nate curled up in a ball, all but sure the next kick was coming in the darkness. Then something furry and growling flew past him, and Todd staggered away with a string of inarticulate curses.

  If Nate hadn’t felt Copernicus’ tiny bulk pressed up against his back, he might’ve thought a feral wolf had come to his defense by the ferocity of the little guy’s growling.

  “Hey look,” Todd said, “the dick-sized dog has more balls than you.�
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  Copernicus barked, and Nate shuddered in relief as he heard footsteps climbing back onto the porch. He didn’t look, but he heard Todd pause at the top of the steps.

  “Go home, Arturi. Go home and leave my girl the fuck alone.”

  Then he opened the door and went back into Emily’s.

  Nate lay there in the dirt, cold and trembling and in more pain that he could remember having ever been in. He’d never been in a fight before. Never even broken a bone. Never even… Never even—

  He shuddered again, tears welling in his eyes, and wrapped his arms tighter around his knees. He shook with a rising sob, trying to hold it in, refusing to give Todd the satisfaction, even if the bastard wasn’t here to see it. But he couldn’t hold it back. Before he knew it, Nate was lying in Emily Atherton’s pitch black yard, gasping with quiet sobs, every emotion he’d felt that day and half a dozen more all spilling out of him like so much water from a broken dam.

  With each gasping breath, he told himself to get up and walk away, but he couldn’t. Couldn’t do anything but lay there, crying. He never wanted to move again. And Gwen. God, Gwen. Nate didn’t know what to do, what to think. Only that he felt nauseous thinking about what that well-manicured ape was doing behind her back.

  Something padded past him in the dark. Then he felt Copernicus’ warm breath panting on his cheek. The corgi licked him once, then gently nudged Nate with the top of his head, as if to say, Time to move.

  “Okay, boy,” he whispered. “You’re right.”

  And yet he still couldn’t seem to move until the corgi nudged him again.

  He rolled to his stomach, careful to avoid the side Todd had rib-kicked like a freaking movie gangster. Slowly, carefully, he rose to his feet, clutching at his ribs with one hand and his head with the other. He shuffled across the yard like a blind man and paused at the edge of the thick shadows, glancing back at the single lit window above, wondering if even The Untouchable Todd would be answering to his mistress now for his undeniably odd behavior in storming out of the apartment.

  If the faint and rapid thumping he heard on the still night air was any indication, it seemed not.

  Nate stared at the window, feeling like he should be angry, like he should be utterly sickened. But all he felt in that moment was numb. Totally and completely numb to everything but the pulsing fire in his ribs and in his head.

  He opened his mouth, thinking to whisper one last curse on Todd’s name, then stopped and instead started off down the sidewalk, deciding he might as well hold on to what little scrap of dignity he could, knowing he hadn’t wasted his breath.

  Realizing Copernicus was following him, he paused, staring down at the corgi. Copernicus stared right back, his stump of a tail moving back and forth not excitedly but in a steady, almost somber rhythm.

  Nate didn’t try to decode what it meant, or what he should do about Emily Atherton’s complete and utter lack of responsibility as a pet owner. He just shrugged and walked on, not minding one bit when the corgi fell into companionable pace beside him, tiny claws clacking away on the pavement in the cold, still night.

  Across Allen Street, in the deep shadows of the foliage between Emily Atherton’s neighboring houses, the ragged old man gave a mirthless chuckle.

  “This one?” he asked, looking at the empty darkness beside him. “Truly? You’re certain you don’t mean the one inside? At least we know he’s not afraid to get his sword dirty, as it were.”

  He started to lift his clay cup to his lips and then paused, as if listening.

  “Nine hells,” he finally muttered. “You truly are insufferable.”

  He thought for another handful of seconds, then shrugged and drained the last contents of his clay cup. That done, he slipped the trusty receptacle into one of his dirty robe’s endless pockets and began rifling around, searching this hidey hole and that until, with a satisfied sound, he finally produced a small, intricately gilded sphere, not much larger than a ping-pong ball.

  “Very well, M’lady,” he said, holding the sphere at arm’s length and squinting so that the device blotted the retreating forms of Arturi and his furry friend from sight.

  “There’s just one more thing I’d like to see first.”

  7

  A Walk in the Park

  “That’s a good boy,” Nate said to Copernicus’ dark outline as the little corgi concluded his post-pee dirt scuffing ritual.

  If he hadn’t known better, he almost could’ve sworn Copernicus actually cocked an eyebrow up at him in the dim light, as if questioning who Nate thought he was to be deciding who was and wasn’t a good boy right now. Maybe the corgi had a point. Or maybe Nate was just being hard on himself. But that seemed fair enough, seeing as the rest of the goddamn universe had apparently sworn a solemn oath to do exactly the same.

  How he’d thought the night couldn’t get any worse, he wasn’t quite sure. All he knew in his aching heart—and severely more aching face and ribs—was that he needed to get home before the Fates could reach down and strike him dead in this field, just for giggles.

  “Come on, Copernicus,” Nate said, turning back toward the distant trickle of Atherton Street traffic, feeling at once safe in the enveloping dark expanse of the community field, and also lonely as all hell.

  It helped when the corgi fell in happy step beside him, no leash required. There was one small light from this endless turd sandwich of a day, at least: a spineless IT punching bag Nate might be, but at least he was already a better pet owner than Emily Atherton, who probably wouldn’t even notice her furry little dependent was gone until the morning, when she realized…

  Nate paused, his gut tightening with an odd swirl of dread and exhilaration.

  … Until the morning, when she realized Copernicus had been dog-napped. Because that’s what this was, wasn’t it? He looked down at the corgi, who was looking cheerfully up at him, awaiting his lead.

  Had he just stolen a freaking dog?

  Maybe he was concussed. Or maybe he’d just been too emotionally shocked after getting stomped into the dirt to remember it wasn’t exactly lawful to walk off with someone’s pet. Either way, could he really be blamed after he’d taken multiple falls and had his bell thoroughly rung by a roid raging frat god all in one day?

  It wasn’t like he’d snatched Copernicus and run for it. He’d simply walked to the park, and the corgi had followed. It wasn’t his fault Emily had failed for the thousandth time to keep him inside, or at least get him a new collar to keep him reliably tethered out in the yard.

  “Go home, boy,” Nate said anyway. “You should go home.”

  Copernicus just stopped wagging his tail and sat down in the grass, as if staking his claim. Nate turned and stared in the general direction of Emily’s, absentmindedly watching the cars flit by back on the road, realizing more and more with each one that maybe he wouldn’t make such a great pet owner after all. Because he hadn’t thought any of this through.

  He didn’t have dog food. Or a leash. Or poop bags. Or gods knew what else he’d need to keep his furry friend occupied. And he sure as shit didn’t have spare cash to run out and grab all these things. And even if he did, this was crazy, wasn’t it? He couldn’t just pluck Copernicus off the street like a wartime refugee, could he?

  Maybe not. But he also wasn’t about to go back to Emily’s right now. Screw that, to the power of infinity. For now, the corgi was free to do as he pleased.

  “Up to you, little guy,” he said, turning right toward the distant lights of the Hamilton shopping center and their house just another block beyond. “I’m not stealing you,” he added, knowing it didn’t absolve him of responsibility, explaining the situation to a dog—even one as clever as Copernicus—but well beyond caring. “But you’re welcome to crash at my place tonight.”

  The rest, Nate decided, he could figure out tomorrow.

  Except Copernicus wasn’t following him when he glanced back. The corgi had barely seemed to hear him at all, in fact. He was too busy
staring off into the darkness. Tensed, Nate realized. Hackles raised.

  Nate’s heart picked up. Between having had his head kicked in and accidental dog-theft, he’d all but forgotten about the ragged robed man, and his own tight-chested fear of the shadows on the walk home earlier. Now, though, as Copernicus broke into a soft growl, that fear came crashing back with sweaty-palmed interest.

  “Copernicus,” Nate hissed. “What is it, boy?”

  The corgi half-turned to give him a short yip, then rounded back on the darkness, tensing up, head cocked like he’d heard something. Nate strained his senses. Heard nothing. Smelled the chill of the October night. Then…

  Something humming. Something in the darkness beyond Copernicus, humming like the freaking Death Star preparing to fire. Nate stared, frozen, part of him wondering what the hell could be making that sound, the rest of him screaming to grab Copernicus and just run for it. He bent down, reaching for the dog, then froze again at a sound like a tiny crack of thunder.

  Somewhere ahead—not far by the sound of it—something heavy thudded to the ground. Copernicus barked.

  A low, rumbling growl replied from the darkness.

  There was something wrong with that sound. Nate couldn’t process what—too deep, too monstrous—but he had Copernicus scooped up and was backing away even before he heard the thing shift, and felt the first few thunderous footsteps impact the ground.

  It was huge. That was all Nate’s shocked brain could process as one massive shadow detached itself from the rest. Impossibly huge.

  And it was moving straight toward them. Fast.

  Nate found his legs turning and running for dear life before he’d even thought to give the order. He ran faster than he’d ever run, too afraid to think, too afraid to even cry for help, Copernicus bouncing in his arms, barking over his shoulder at whatever the hell was stomping after them, shaking the earth beneath his feet like a goddamn earthquake.