LANCELOT

by Bernard Lee DeLeo

  “No…” Lancelot whispered, as Vivian took his hand, “just…a little longer.”

  “Here is Arthur after you’ve murdered the legend, giving your life so that Arthur can have what you took from him so long ago. Die you will, if it is attempted.”

  Lancelot’s fists knotted at his sides, and Vivian turned away. Arthur appeared, lying in some filthy alley, his wasted body shivering as he injected something into his arm. The scarecrow of alternate reality shocked Lancelot. He stepped back, rage, guilt, and a depressing foreboding of doom obliterating all other conscious thought.

  Minutes of dead silence passed after Madeline’s vision faded away. Lancelot remembered Arthur stroking Kara’s face – an eight-year-old commanding instant respect and loyalty from an immortal creature. Vivian took his hand again in both of hers.

  “I sensed the truth of it, Lancelot,” Vivian stated.

  “What if I didn’t die accomplishing it?” Lancelot replied, a feral grin spreading over his mouth. “I could kill them all, and-”

  “I felt our deaths in the vision,” Vivian interrupted. “I died with you. Whether it is written in stone or not is impossible to know.”

  Lancelot remained silent, hearing Vivian’s confirmation of Madeline’s portent of disaster. He shook his head, taking a deep breath. Lancelot smiled down at Vivian, having made his decision.

  “When Arthur is grown and his memory has returned, I will carve Sir Toad up like a Thanksgiving Day turkey, and no power on earth will prevent it.”

  “I call dibs on this arrogant little bitch,” Vivian replied, gesturing at a now fuming Madeline. “Do you have any ideas on how the truce could work?”

  “Yeah. If Mallor sends any more werewolves, vampires, creatures of the dark, or any other entity out after Arthur, I’m going to snuff out this legend shit like a match in a hurricane,” Lancelot stated plainly, turning to face Madeline. “It won’t matter what happens to me, Vivian, or Arthur. I will torture you and Sir Toad to death. Is that part clear, M? It’s nonnegotiable.”

  “What of you?”

  “Bring it,” Lancelot answered. “Know this, though – every attack on us players around Arthur will bring a personal hurting for you and Toad. There will be a price to pay, so gauge your little plots carefully.”

  “Can I take this to Mallor?”

  “Sure, and I’ll go with you,” Lancelot agreed. “I wish to see Toad’s face when he says yes or no. Viv, do you want to have a drink with me and the Toads?”

  “Absolutely,” Vivian replied. “I see those wheels spinning in this bitch’s head, Monte. She’s already contemplating ways we might die at this meeting.”

  “Works for me.”

  “I’ll call Merlin.” Vivian took out her cell-phone, and walked out of earshot.

  “You’d better call and set up the meeting. Toad can consider his answer on our way over,” Lancelot told Madeline. “Tell him I had better not see anything out of whack on this visit, or things will get really painful for you two.”

  Madeline nodded, turning away to make her call. Vivian joined Lancelot a moment later.

  “Merlin’s happy, right?”

  “Oh, yeah, he’s pleased – at least with the part about not killing Mallor and Madeline. I think the jury’s still out on how he feels about our meeting them tonight. He monitored our meeting, and Madeline’s visions. Arthur saw the visions.”

  “Shit! What did Merlin say about Arthur’s reaction?” Lancelot surprised Vivian by his showing interest rather than rage. “I wonder whether by seeing the bad vision, Arthur might be able to prevent such an outcome.”

  “I don’t know, Monte,” Vivian replied, stroking Lancelot’s face. “Merlin said Arthur watched it with his little fists clenched. He left the room right after seeing it. For what it’s worth, he sensed your death, too.”

  “We have to stop talking about it. My reaction to hearing of my imminent demise is to kill them all and prove the vision wrong.”

  Vivian laughed. “You surely had Madeline worried.”

  “She was right to be worried,” Lancelot said as Madeline walked up to them again.

  “It’s on, if you’ll come up to our suite,” Madeline offered.

  “Sure,” Lancelot answered. “I’ll call our driver. He’ll take us all over there together.”

  * * *

  Outside the Mark Hopkins Hotel, Lancelot turned on the intercom. “Take off the moment we get out, Charlie. I’ll call you when the meeting’s done.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Lancelot tipped the doorman well when he escorted them inside the hotel. Madeline led the way across the lobby and into the elevator. A vampire larger than Devon met the elevator. He wore formal wear, and his long black hair was tied with a band at his neck. He bowed to Madeline, but not before looking at Lancelot with hatred.

  “This is Weston,” Madeline said, gesturing at the hulking vampire. “He never leaves Mallor’s side. If you wish for anything to drink or eat, Weston will get it for you.”

  “Thanks, but I think Vivian and I will get our own refreshments.” Lancelot returned Weston’s intense stare with equal menace. “If I were you, Weston, I’d keep my hands off the Lady Vivian here, or we’ll need a fire extinguisher.”

  “Take the spell off,” Madeline argued. “You have nothing to fear in our room.”

  “The spell stays in place,” Vivian countered, pointing at Weston. “Just tell the vamp here what happens if he brushes against me.”

  “Weston, walk ahead, and we’ll follow at a distance,” Madeline told the vampire. “She is protected by a spell, which would cause you to burst into flame if you touch her even accidentally.”

  Moving warily away, Weston pointed at Lancelot. “What of him?”

  “You can touch me anytime,” Lancelot grinned. “How long have you been around?”

  “Since the thirteenth century.”

  “Good. We’ll only need a dustpan or a vacuum cleaner if you touch me,” Lancelot said.

  “Leave us, Weston. Join Mallor. We’ll be along,” Madeline urged.

  Weston nodded as Vivian stifled a laugh at his expense.

  “It will not do you any good to bait our companions,” Madeline warned.

  “Look, if you think we’re just going to be amiable dunces to avoid confrontation, let’s get it on and be done with it. We’re not playing games with you and Toad. C’mon, Madeline, lead the way, and let’s see what your buddy has come up with for ground rules. If open warfare can be avoided, fine.”

  Madeline nodded grimly. She walked into the apartment suite, and sat down at the suite’s bar. Mallor stood behind the bar with Weston next to him. He smiled and gestured for Lancelot and Vivian to sit down at the bar, while handing Madeline a martini.

  “Good of you to come, Lancelot. I understand I’ve made your acquaintance under a different guise, Lady Vivian.”

  “Toad,” Lancelot said, nodding and pulling out a barstool for Vivian.

  “This blatant disrespect is why any agreement will be nearly impossible to achieve,” Mallor said angrily, hatred shooting quickly through his initial mask of friendly greeting.

  “Sorry… Sir Toad,” Lancelot corrected.

  Weston moved slightly, and Lancelot instantly leaped to his feet, his silver-bladed knife in his hand. Lancelot beckoned with his free hand.

  “Come and get some. I’ll dust you so fast that your clothes won’t have time to say goodbye. As I was explaining to Madeline, we’re not here to surrender. State your case, or let’s play ball. I may not be able to kill you, but as I told your girlfriend, I’ll slice and dice you to the point where you’ll beg for death. Who knows – you’ve heard the old Humpty Dumpty nursery rhyme about how all the king’s horses and all the king’s men couldn’t put ole Humpty back together again? Well, that’ll be you two when I get finished carving. If you think I’m bluffing, make your move, Toad.”

  Seeing the naked rage and hatred in Lancelot’s eyes, Mallor held up his hands in a placatory gestur
e, causing Vivian to turn away with a knowing smile.

  “At least try to show some semblance of courtesy. I actually owe you a debt of gratitude,” Mallor continued as Lancelot put his knife away with obvious regret. “If it were not for your allowing me to fight with Excalibur in my hands, I wouldn’t be here. Now, all things are again at stake, awaiting the most industrious amongst us. This time, I will be a kingmaker instead of a simple bit player.”

  “You’ll always be a gnat on the horse’s ass of life.” Lancelot smiled at the instant fury his remark caused to overspread Mallor’s countenance. Shrugging, Lancelot sat down again before continuing. “You’re right, though. Letting you play with that cursed sword again was a bit more hubris than I should have employed. My bad. Get the Lady Vivian and me a couple bottles of beer there, Weston. Just make sure you don’t open them.”

  Weston looked at Mallor, who nodded his assent. Weston took two bottles of imported beer from the refrigerator and placed them, unopened, in front of Lancelot and Vivian. Lancelot opened the bottles, with Vivian taking one from him gratefully.

  “All this excitement has made me thirsty,” Vivian said as she took a large gulp from her beer.

  “Have you had time to consider Lancelot’s offer?” Madeline asked Mallor, holding out her own empty glass for a refill, which Mallor provided.

  “It is acceptable,” Mallor answered. “We want Kara back.”

  “That’ll be up to her, but I’m afraid the Arthur you think a child has already gathered her as a disciple,” Lancelot replied. “I’ll let Kara tell you herself, with all of us in attendance.”

  Mallor’s right hand, where it touched the bar, clenched into a fist.

  “Very well,” Mallor agreed. “We are at a disadvantage since you killed Modred.”

  “Boo hoo, make another. Neither of you age. Since this blasted legend guides everything, what does it matter? It didn’t seem to bother you with Modred as an adult male, but with Arthur only a child,” Vivian countered.

  “We agree to the terms. This will be a political and mental battle from now on, and there will be no more attempts to take Arthur. Allow me to show you something else of interest, Lancelot.”

  Mallor walked from behind the bar, and went in the bedroom for a time. Vivian watched Madeline suspiciously, while Lancelot’s eyes never left Weston. Mallor walked back into the room with an all-too-familiar sheath. Keeping his distance, Mallor held it up for Lancelot to see.

  “Recognize this?” Mallor asked as Vivian gasped.

  “Excalibur,” Vivian said in a hushed tone.

  “Very nice,” Lancelot drawled. He grinned with a gesture of warning. “Make sure it doesn’t leave its sheath, and you live. Draw it, and you’ll get to die once more with it in your hands.”

  “Excalibur can kill any of us,” Mallor stated calmly. “If I draw it, you will die.”

  “No, but if you draw it, I’ll slice you up, cut your head off with it, and take the cursed thing back to Arthur. We’ll forge a new legend. You see, Toad, Excalibur calls out to me, because it knows if I held it, there would be no defeat. In your hands, the sword knows it’s just another sword, wielded by the gnat on the horse’s ass of life.”

  Mallor’s face became apoplectic, and his hand moved to the hilt of Excalibur. Madeline launched off her barstool to grab Mallor’s hand.

  “No…no, my love,” Madeline pleaded. “He’s baiting you. Don’t do this.”

  Lancelot laughed and drained his beer. “See ya’ in the funny papers, Sir Toad. I’ll be back for the sword when Arthur comes of age. Enjoy it while you can. Ready, my lady?”

  Vivian nodded, waving at the seething Mallor and grim Madeline. She made a move as if to touch Weston as she walked by, causing the vampire to lurch back into the well-stocked bar. Bottles crashed to the floor, as Vivian and Lancelot left the room laughing.

  Chapter Sixteen: Wildcard

  “You should have let me kill him,” Mallor told Madeline. Drawing Excalibur, he felt the power of the sword’s enchantment race through him.

  “Do not be angry, my love,” Madeline placated Mallor. “Look upon the vision I saw at the instant your hand touched Excalibur’s hilt.”

  Madeline closed her eyes, and a scene depicting a triumphant Lancelot holding Mallor’s severed head by the hair in one massive fist swam into view. Weston was on fire near Vivian, and Madeline knelt crying over Mallor’s headless corpse. Mallor’s fists knotted around Excalibur’s handle, as if he intended to strike the vision itself.

  “Lancelot cannot be underestimated, nor the water-witch. Our hope lies in deception and outmaneuvering their cursed band. If you had seen the ease with which Lancelot kills our most fearsome vampires, you would know I was right to interfere.”

  “It irks me no end!” Mallor shouted, sheathing Excalibur angrily. “It irks me to know you are right. We must wait, as you advise. I lost us the advantage by allowing our son to step up our plans. Now, Modred is dead, and we must begin again. No matter how strong our position, we must come up with a way to dispose of Lancelot. He will undo all we’ve achieved in the blink of an eye, given even the slightest opening. What of our plan for the girl?”

  “Weston has a pawn he will use to take her,” Madeline answered. “They know nothing of the girl’s existence, so we may gain some time if she’s dealt with now. It is a gamble though.”

  “Lancelot cares for no one but Arthur,” Madeline continued after a moment. “The others are mere acquaintances compared to the ancient hold Arthur has on him. Only a vision of Arthur’s complete abasement dissuaded him from killing us all, even though it ended in his death. Let us not trifle with him further. Lancelot is an elemental force. He will not be held by rules of a game he neither abides by nor understands.”

  “We must one day reach him through Arthur, then.”

  “I think not.” Madeline walked over to the bar and downed the rest of her martini. “Lancelot warned me that we are welcome to come for him. If he survives, Lancelot promises retribution, and his word is bankable.”

  “He fears nothing! Weston, can you see no way out of this impasse?”

  “I die at your command, my Lord,” Weston replied as he looked up from cleaning around the bar. “I hold no false hopes that I would survive a battle against Lancelot. I am a killer, but I can see in his eyes that I am but a child compared to him. He cares not even for his own death. In that, he holds an edge over all of us. Lancelot killed Devon. I could never imagine any force ever killing Devon, let alone a human.”

  “It’s just as Weston says, Mallor. Let’s make a long-term plan involving deception and intelligence,” Madeline interjected, taking Mallor’s hand. “Come – let us initiate our own pawn in this grand scheme yet again. We will allow no confrontation in the future involving our son. Weston, see to our other enterprise.”

  “As you wish, my lady.”

  The impotent rage seething through Mallor was a palpable entity. He shook with the unrequited urge to kill Lancelot, whom he loathed beyond all things. In the end, as Weston had predicted, he feared death more than Lancelot.

  * * *

  “Take me, right now, you magnificent bastard!” Vivian cried out, laughing, as she and Lancelot entered the limousine. “I see your magic now, my former squire.”

  “See what you will, my lady,” Lancelot said solemnly, holding Vivian close. “We exist to elevate Arthur to the heights of leadership in America. This is not a game, my love.”

  “Can we not take some pleasure in the steps to this ascendancy we see before us?”

  “Of course,” Lancelot conceded, smiling. “I would take pleasure in your company no matter what lay before us. I am yours. We must not let our guard down for an instant. You saw Mallor’s eyes. He will not be able to resist the urge to kill me if he has any chance of success.”

  Lancelot clicked on the intercom. “Take us to Merlin’s building, Charlie.”

  “Right away, sir.”

  “You said the shape-shifters are the worst
.”

  “The ones capable of controlling their shift can come at us day and night. I think I did away with Mallor’s supply for now, though. Do you have a spell capable of warding off or killing the shifters?”

  “I can’t dust them as I can vampires, but I can ward them away,” Vivian replied. “If Merlin and I work together, we can come up with something which will cause them intense pain if they approach.”