LANCELOT

by Bernard Lee DeLeo

Duckling back inside the vehicle, the driver hit the button that released the lid of the trunk. Merlin extracted a large gray woolen blanket and gave it to Lancelot. Vivian and Arthur put their equipment in the passenger compartment while Lancelot jogged back to the werewolf’s body. He rolled the body up in the blanket, making sure that the pulped head was hidden. Having jogged back with his bulky burden, he stuffed the corpse into the trunk of the limo. Joining Merlin, Vivian, and Arthur finally in the passenger compartment, Lancelot glanced around at his companions with a smile.

  “That was a little too close for comfort. It’s a good thing they didn’t send an army of those things all at once. I was hoping Serge and I had cleaned out their supply of shape-shifters. I think they have your limo bugged, Merlin.”

  “My God…it was huge,” Vivian commented tiredly.

  “Merlin probably already knows, but those things can kill me,” Lancelot informed them. “I’m glad you two were able to give me something to use. Without the silver bat, that would have been a hell of a fight.”

  “Is it always going to be like this, Lancelot?” Arthur asked, using his Knight’s name, and meeting Lancelot’s eyes solemnly.

  “I expect so, Arthur,” Lancelot admitted. “I’m sure with Merlin and Vivian getting together, they can come up with some protection. I promise to be better prepared. Not coming armed was a blunder on my part. Sorry, kid.”

  “You were awesome, Shrek,” Arthur stated with a grin as he reverted to form. “You’re right. Merlin and the Vicster will come up with something good. They whipped up a silver bat pretty well.”

  “The Vicster?” Vivian repeated, frowning.

  * * *

  “Sorry, Serge, but we were attacked in the park by another werewolf,” Lancelot explained, raising Serge’s coffin lid. “I’ve had to wrap the body in the trunk of Merlin’s limo in black plastic garbage bags and duct tape. We all need to talk before I decide what to do with the body.”

  The vampire’s eyes blinked and then focused on Lancelot. Sitting up, he looked around.

  “I’m good,” Serge announced vaulting up from his resting place. “All that blood gave me bad dreams anyway.”

  “I thought you didn’t sleep.”

  “Are we going to discuss my resting habits, or are you going to fill me in?”

  “I forgot to take my knife to the park,” Lancelot explained, holding up a warning hand when Serge began to speak while grinning from ear to ear. “In any case, we have to pump Morgan for information. Apparently, killing Modred didn’t slow them down at all, which means there’s someone else playing puppeteer.”

  “We’ll have to give her some blood,” Serge said, raising the lid on the coffin next to his, revealing the comatose Morgan Le Fay. “It would be best if we gave her a neutral person’s blood. No need to give her anymore than it will take to get her talking.”

  Lancelot held up a small cooler he carried. “Merlin acquired some on our way here. It seems money in this day and age buys just about anything, and he has contacts all over. You’re probably wondering why Merlin has contacts at a blood bank, but they sure came in handy.”

  “Actually,” Serge said as he held up his hand and interrupted Lancelot, “I was stunned at your insight to forage for blood, and the idiocy on your part of prancing forth unarmed.”

  “I have my knife now,” Lancelot growled. The silver blade appeared as if from thin air.

  “Very well then,” Serge replied, laughing. “Let’s get on with this inquisition. Where is the rest of your merry band?”

  “Upstairs,” Lancelot answered, returning the knife to its sheath at his back. “I told them I’d get you up, and we’d revive the witch before bringing them down.”

  Serge nodded. He took the cooler Lancelot handed him, and extracted one of the whole blood bags. Lancelot propped Morgan up.

  “Hold her tight,” Serge directed. “She’ll get a whiff of this, and in her condition, she’ll be a little wild.

  Serge slit a horizontal cut above the line of blood with his finger nail, and Morgan’s eyes popped open. Her fangs dropped instantly. With Lancelot clamping down hard at her neck, Serge moved the bag to Morgan’s mouth, so that her fangs fit through the cut he had made in the bag. She sucked greedily as Serge tilted the bag. Morgan drained the bag quickly, moaning in delight. When the blood was gone, Serge pulled the bag away, eliciting a flurry of motion from the blood-starved vampire. Lancelot held her steady.

  “Kara… I mean Morgan,” Serge corrected himself. Meeting her wild-eyed stare, he asked, “Are you coherent, my dear?”

  “Please…I need more!”

  “Please, Master,” Serge corrected her gently.

  “Please, Master,” Morgan pleaded, her hands reaching for Serge.

  Having drawn out another bag, Serge repeated the cut he had made in the first bag. Morgana savored the blood this time, taking twice as long to feed from the bag. Her eyes cleared. The desperate grey pallor receded, and a faint blush appeared on her cheeks. Having lifted the vampire out of her coffin, Lancelot steadied her until she could stand. She looked fearfully from Serge to Lancelot.

  “Why am I alive?”

  “We need information,” Lancelot said simply. “C’mon upstairs, and meet some old friends from long ago.”

  “I…I can’t,” Morgan said, falling to her knees and grasping Serge’s leg. “If they take me, they’ll torture me for eternity.”

  “We’ll have to make sure they don’t get hold of you then, my dear.” Lifting her up once again, Serge held Morgan in his arms. “You’ll go upstairs and answer all Lancelot’s questions, and everything his friends wish to ask you. Do you understand, my love?”

  Morgan stared up into Serge’s eyes and nodded her head in acquiescence.

  Lancelot led the way upstairs. It had only taken minutes for Merlin and Vivian to sense where the bug was on the limousine at the park. The four had then gone to breakfast, and later gone bowling together. Arthur had calmed considerably with all the excitement and activity. When Merlin received word that Lancelot’s entranceway had been repaired, they returned to his house, with the shape-shifter’s body inside the trunk of the limousine. They waited for Lancelot to bring up Serge and his guest.

  “Well, well, well, Morgan le Fay,” Vivian declared, as first Lancelot, then Serge, and finally Morgan appeared out of the cellar. “How’s it hangin’?”

  “You…you’re all in danger,” Morgan blurted out, looking wildly about. “They need Arthur, and they’ll devastate the western seaboard to get him.”

  “Go on,” Merlin urged, leaning forward, where he sat with the others around the kitchen table. “Any information you can give us helps. We all know Modred is dead.”

  “Good riddance to that King-poser,” Vivian stated angrily. “Who’s left? I thought this whole debacle depended on him.”

  “She’s a vampire too?” Arthur asked. “Wow, she’s a babe.”

  Lancelot laughed in spite of the deadly seriousness of their meeting. Serge held out his hand to Arthur.

  “I am Serge Balkovitch, Arthur. I fought alongside Lancelot at the battle for Vienna against the Ottoman Turks.”

  “I…I’m glad to meet you.” Arthur shook Serge’s hand as Merlin shifted uneasily in his seat next to the boy. “Lancelot told me you ripped out Modred’s heart.”

  “An enemy of Lancelot’s is an enemy of mine,” Serge stated without reservation. “I am intrigued by this growing quest, and I am at your service.”

  “Thanks, Serge,” Arthur replied enthusiastically. “Is Morgan really in your control?”

  “Yes,” Serge answered, looking back at Morgan. “I have known her a long time, but she went under the name Kara. She is also at your service. Is that not so, my dear?”

  Morgan nodded, avoiding Serge’s eyes.

  “Tell us then – what players control all this?” Lancelot asked.

  “Meleagaunce and Morgause,” Morgan answered. “They had hoped to capture Arthur. When his memory returned, they m
eant to enslave him and use his power to help install Modred as President. If Merlin and Vivian played along, they would have been used accordingly. In but another decade, chaos would reign.”

  “And Lancelot?” Arthur walked over to take Lancelot’s hand.

  “We all knew no one could coerce Lancelot into anything,” Morgan replied, the bitterness in her voice an almost tangible entity in the room. “Any of you could have been shown the logic of becoming part of what we were doing…but…but not him. He ruins it all, no matter what-”

  “Shut up!” Arthur cut her off. “You’ll not have me either!”

  “Easy, my young King,” Lancelot said, taking the boy’s shoulders in his hands soothingly. “Serge and I killed the future she’s rambling on about. This is to find out where we go from here.”

  “You all go to hell! Don’t you understand?!” Morgan continued, her hands clenching into fists. “Meleagaunce will kill you all slowly for what has happened to Modred. Morgause was his mother in this timeline too, and…and Meleagaunce was his father. Everything is ruined.”

  “Gee, that’s rough.” Lancelot shook Arthur slightly. “Her story’s really touching, is it not, my King?”

  “We won’t lose, Lancelot.” Arthur walked up in front of Morgan, when Lancelot released him, and Serge moved with the boy. “No one can beat Lancelot!”

  Morgan stared into Arthur’s eyes with the arrogance that had seethed within her since her birth. Her fangs dropped down with the passion she felt at being so near the boy who would be King. The little boy held her stare without fear, even as Lancelot’s hand grasped the silver-bladed knife. Reaching out, Arthur caressed Morgan’s face with his hand, pausing as her disgust turned to fear, and then understanding.

  “You will serve me now,” Arthur whispered, leaning close to Morgan.

  Unable to tear her eyes from his, Morgan gasped as she took his hand in both of hers.

  Something beyond the little boy’s grasp on reality surged through him. He felt fearless. For a moment, all he would become flowed through Arthur’s consciousness.

  “Take heart, Morgan,” Arthur told her in a hushed voice. “You are on the right side, this time.”

  “Yes…yes, my King.” Morgan kissed Arthur’s hand.

  “I’m beginning to see what happened,” Merlin offered. “They became impatient, probably because of that buffoon Meleagaunce. If they had waited until Arthur came of age, the time for us to decipher what was happening and act on it would have been drastically reduced. The speed of all this has confused me. Meleagaunce fathering Modred instead of Arthur means he’s changed the paradigm. How did you find Meleagaunce, Morgan?”

  “He came to me in Paris nearly a year ago,” Morgan answered, sitting down at the table with Arthur beside her. “When he touched me, all the memories of my past returned in a rush. Devon, the huge vampire Lancelot killed, was with him. Devon had been my sire. When Devon turned me shortly after the fall of Camelot, all memories of what I had been were washed away. I…I believed that Devon was Meleagaunce’s Lancelot. When Serge told me at the warehouse that Lancelot had killed Devon, it was a shock.”

  “What power do those two wield?” Vivian asked.

  “Both Meleagaunce and Morgause have the power to draw and command mystical creatures to them. I’ve not seen them do any complex spells. They are both young, and birthed by human parents. Meleagaunce is rich beyond normal wealth, in both power and contacts. His father made a fortune in environmental trading of carbon and nitrous oxide credits on the stock exchange.”

  “What of you?” Merlin asked. “When you were with me, you were adept at sorcery.”

  “I lost all power when Devon turned me. I have the power of a vampire.”

  “Which is substantial,” Lancelot added. “What do you think our next step should be, Merlin?”

  “Meleagaunce will confront us, if for no other reason than to test our resolve. Losing both Modred and Morgan will surely cripple his plans for the time being. Do you know where Meleagaunce and Morgause are, Morgan?”

  “They have a suite at the Mark Hopkins Hotel in San Francisco when they stay in this area. He goes by the name Mallor Blackstone, and she’s known as his wife, Madeline. I would prefer you call me by the name by which Serge knew me: Kara.”

  “I’m sick of all the M names,” Arthur announced. “I’ll be glad to call you Kara.”

  “That works for me,” Lancelot agreed. “We need to dump the shape-shifter’s body before it ruins your limo. The tight wrapping I did when we arrived here at the house will last for a while, but the smell will render the limo uninhabitable in short order. Any suggestions would be appreciated.”

  “We haven’t even checked on the warehouse you and Serge worked over last night,” Merlin said. “It’s probably all over the news.”

  “And there’s the small problem of your driver, Charlie,” Vivian added.

  “He’s not having a crisis of conscience,” Merlin replied. “Charlie saw what the thing was. If he sticks around, it would help to have a driver who’s seen what we face. As to the body, why don’t we take one of my boats out and give the thing a burial at sea?”

  “You own boats too?” Vivian asked.

  “I bought out a small enterprise at the San Leandro Marina. Arthur’s gone out with me on the small cabin cruiser before. It’s really nice.”

  “Sounds great,” Lancelot agreed. “If Charlie knows the ropes as to how we get to the Marina, and where the boat is, I’ll take it out and get this done. With Vivian, Serge and Kara, you’ll be safe at your place, right?”

  “Do you know how to operate a cruiser?” Merlin asked.

  “I’ve developed quite a few skills,” Lancelot answered.

  “I’ll go along with you, Monte,” Vivian said. “It will look less suspicious with a woman along. Arthur will be all right, won’t he, Merlin?”

  “You’re leaving me with two vampires. What could go wrong?” Merlin asked, shrugging.

  “Yeah, he’ll be okay.” Lancelot traded looks with Serge.

  “Arthur will be well, or I and many others will be dead,” Serge nodded. “I would dispose of the body, but I’m none too keen on the water, and I know nothing of boats.”

  “C’mon then, and we’ll drop all of you at Merlin’s place before we go boating.” Beckoning, Lancelot led the way out into the garage. “You can check the news in our absence.”

  “No hanky-panky on the boat, Shrek,” Arthur piped in. “The Vicster has given up the streets now, so show some respect.”

  Their trip to Merlin’s was postponed for a few moments as Lancelot chased the yelping Arthur through the house, while Serge in particular enjoyed the spectacle.

  * * *

  “This is beautiful,” Vivian said, looking up at the post-sunset sky, as she stood next to Lancelot at the wheel of Merlin’s cabin cruiser. “How far are we going out?”

  “Another fifteen minutes ought to do it. Merlin really has some nice stuff. You’ve been getting your powers back, haven’t you?”

  Vivian nodded, without meeting Lancelot’s gaze.

  “I’ve felt you trying some small stuff on me.”

  “It still doesn’t work on you,” Vivian acknowledged. “There’s some power I know won’t be coming back to me. I’m hoping my expertise with spells and invocations returns to me. When Merlin and I changed the aluminum bat to silver, it was as if I were being charged up with power. I felt it all. What were you going to do, if we didn’t come up with something?”

  “Hold the creature until you walked to a store and bought something sharp made of silver, I guess,” Lancelot answered. “Seriously, that was a big one. Merlin had it right. If Arthur had run, I couldn’t have stopped the thing from veering away from us and taking Arthur. Oh…and the bat…that was beautiful. I could do without the shape-shifters. They always manage to make their mark on me before I get them.”

  “That one today was dead before it could blink, once you had the bat.”

  “True, but
I had only my knife last night. One of those damn cats raked me. It’ll take a while to heal those wounds.”

  “Let me see,” Vivian said, turning toward Lancelot. “Where are you wounded? Your back?”

  “Yeah.”

  Vivian pulled up Lancelot’s shirt, gasping a little at the sight of the long red welted wounds crisscrossing his back. “Shit, Monte! The thing nearly skinned you.”

  “They closed up pretty fast, or I would have bled out, but my healing factor doesn’t work so well on wounds done me by vamps and shape-shifters.”

  Vivian went behind Lancelot and splayed her hands out, kneading the skin of his back. Lancelot jerked slightly.

  “Sorry, my hands are cold,” Vivian said, concentrating on his wounds.