LANCELOT

by Bernard Lee DeLeo

  “Madeline and I will work to discover where we may find this Dunkan,” Mallor replied. “If Weston was as deep into this as you suspect, he would have siphoned funds from my legitimate enterprises to fund Dunkan.”

  “That would help a lot,” Lancelot conceded, seeing Mallor in a different light. It reminded him of when first he met Mallor centuries past. He had thought the young Meleagaunce a headstrong warrior, but had liked him instantly. The intrigue of Camelot had birthed the hatred that they sought to put behind them now.

  “Follow us over to our place, Lancelot,” Mallor suggested, as if reading Lancelot’s thoughts. “Now that I’ve decided on a different fate, I wish to be free of Excalibur for good…and quickly.”

  “I know the feeling,” Lancelot muttered. “Vivian and I need to round up some Wolf’s Bane, just in case I didn’t get the last shifter in the park.”

  “Wait,” Madeline said, rooting around in her handbag. She came up with a notepad and pen. After writing in the notepad for a moment, she tore the sheet out and handed it to Vivian. “This shop in San Francisco will have Wolf’s Bane.”

  “Thank you,” Vivian took the paper. “Well, I must say, I’d rather have you two as allies than enemies.”

  “Our private numbers are on the sheet as well,” Madeline said. “Call us if we can help with anything else. As Mallor offered, we will find the trail leading to Dunkan.”

  * * *

  With Excalibur in the trunk of the Pontiac, Lancelot once more possessed the sword of nightmare. He already envied the obvious relief on Mallor’s features as his former enemy handed over the blade. Already, the dull ache of need hummed through Lancelot. Grasping Excalibur for even the short space of time needed to place it in the trunk had infected him. He could feel the virus setting his blood on fire. A small smile formed on Lancelot’s lips as he guided the Pontiac toward the Bay Bridge into San Francisco. One day soon, he thought, I will be free of both legend and sword, no matter the cost. Lancelot felt Vivian’s hand on his arm, and glanced over guiltily.

  “Forgot about our connection again, did we?” Vivian laughed. “What is it with you? Everything falls into place and you freeze up.”

  Lancelot glanced over at her grinning countenance with annoyance. “I’m not freezing up, Vicster.” He checke his GPS screen. “You said yourself that Excalibur drove every warrior who touched it insane but Arthur.”

  “And you.”

  “I have not wielded it in battle yet. I am not Arthur.”

  “You’ve led and inspired every aspect in this modern revamp of Camelot. What – you think I gave a shit one way or another if some little smartass punk fell into the hands of the legend’s dark side? Merlin worked the status quo no matter where it went and who got hurt. Heaven may have given you the tools, but no other creature on earth could have rearranged the deck chairs on this Titanic the way you did.”

  “Yeah, and to this point it’s been just rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic. I feel about as special as a hamster on an exercise wheel.”

  “Lancelot, you big weenie.” Vivian slapped the back of his head with her left hand, evoking a grunt from her smiling companion. “Count your blessings, you boob. You’ve made me a believer, and now I’m worried you’re going to start crying for Mommy.”

  “You’re my mommy, so-”

  “Not funny!” Vivian launched another head-slap, which Lancelot easily plucked from the air with his right hand, without moving his eyes from the road. “We agreed never to bring that up again, you troll.”

  “You agreed.” Lancelot chuckled, kissing her hand before releasing it. “Calm down. We’re coming up to the Bay Bridge toll booth. You’ll like this crossing into San Francisco.”

  Vivian relaxed against her seat, bothered that Lancelot would bring up their odd relationship from millennia ago. As she watched Lancelot give over cash to the toll booth operator, she noticed the peculiar way the sunshine lit up the ocean and sky on one side of the bridge, while a gray roiling fog bank obscured the other side. Cloud cover played referee as fog and sunlight battled back and forth along the coastline. Lancelot drove onto the bridge through heavy but navigable traffic in the midday crossing. During their time on the bridge, Vivian noted that the fog had begun winning out against the sunlight.

  “What did you think?” Lancelot asked, glancing over at Vivian as he exited the Bay Bridge.

  “It was beautiful, but a little eerie. How long does the fog last?”

  “Sometimes until early afternoon, and at times it makes a return visit in the evening. The Sword and Rose shop for which Madeline gave you the address is at the corner of Cole and Carl Streets, near the outskirts of Golden Gate Park. Fog hangs around on those streets quite a bit, but usually not in midday.”

  “You seem to know a lot about San Francisco,” Vivian said.

  “I shipped out of here in World War II. The city was so beautiful that I decided to buy a place near it. Over the years, since World War II, it became easy to end up stationed on the West Coast in the Marine Corps, so I’ve visited many times since the 1940s. From the early sixties on, San Francisco lost a great deal of its magic, but I can take the good with the bad.”

  “How so?” Vivian prompted him.

  “Many of the people there no longer fall into the realm of quaint or eccentric. Panhandlers, homeless vagrants, and the degenerate have definitely changed the ambience of the City by the Bay,” Lancelot answered with a rueful grin over at Vivian. “We’ll probably only see the city’s good side where we’re going. I’d take you to Fisherman’s Wharf for a late lunch, but we’d never make it back over the bridge in time to pick the kids up.”

  “I need some time to put together a spell, anyhow. I’m looking forward to seeing this shop we’re headed for. I figured we’d have to find some botanical gardens growing Wolf’s Bane as an attraction.”

  “It could be that The Sword and Rose might qualify as quaint. Some of the original Satanic cults originated in San Francisco, and now, many of the witchcraft Gaia types have invaded, between San Francisco and Berkeley.”

  “Are you badmouthing my people?”

  Lancelot laughed. “Believe me, Vickster, these clip-haired, nose-ringed, sour-faced harridans I’m talking about are not your people. We might run into a couple at The Sword and Rose. You can claim them then.”

  “I’m sure you’re exaggerating.”

  Chapter Twenty-One: The Sword and Rose

  “Holy shit,” Vivian exclaimed, giggling as she looked around at the rather crowded shop. “These people do know this isn’t the sixties, right?”

  “Keep your voice down,” Lancelot cautioned in a whisper, nodding at the array of Goth-dressed male and female customers, in addition to the Berkenstalk-clad hippy holdovers. “Believe me, this isn’t the only enterprise catering to these folks. We don’t want to alienate the people running this place before they can help us.”

  “Well, the roses, sundial, and statues outside were beautiful, so I’m sure many more normal people enjoy this place besides the-”

  “Quaint,” Lancelot finished for her.

  “Weirdos.” Vivian went on in her own way. She noticed the looks they were getting, partly due to Lancelot’s size, and partly because she looked so young.

  Three middle-aged women in complete Goth garb, including black lipstick and nail polish, eyed Vivian with condescending smiles as they babbled back and forth in hushed whispers. A red-haired woman walked toward them, smiling. She held out her hand to Vivian and nodded at Lancelot.

  “Hi. Madeline called and said a huge guy with a raven-haired woman would be stopping in, looking for Wolf’s Bane. Are you Vivian?”

  “Yes, and this is my friend, Jim Benwick.” Vivian shook the woman’s hand.

  “I’m Kathy. C’mon in the back with me, and I’ll show you what I have. It’s a little tight moving around, so maybe Jim can find something to look at out here.”

  Lancelot had spotted an assortment of broadswords. “Sure, I see something
entertaining. Call out if you need me. Do you allow any handling of the broadswords, Kathy?”

  “Sure.” Kathy failed to mask the uneasiness in her voice. “We’ve never had a problem, so as long as you’re careful, you may handle any you wish. Have you handled a broadsword before?”

  “Yes,” Lancelot answered simply, smiling at Vivian, who issued a short snorting laugh after hearing Kathy’s question.

  “Don’t worry about Jim,” Vivian told Kathy, as she patted Lancelot’s arm. “He’s pretty harmless, and he won’t swing any around, right, Jim?”

  “I promise.”

  “If you see any you like, I’ll be out in a few minutes,” Kathy said hurriedly. “I didn’t mean it to sound as if I thought you’d run through the shop chopping people’s heads off.”

  “I’m surprised that you allow handling of the swords at all. I’ll be careful.”

  After Kathy led Vivian away, Lancelot moved over to the broadswords. He picked up each one, enjoying the feel of even the most obvious jeweled fakes. The other customers, who shared Kathy’s reluctance, kept their distance as Lancelot picked up a non-jeweled one with a simple cross hilt and a double-handed grip. It felt wonderful in his hands. The heavy, double-edged blade felt well balanced when gripped with two hands on the thick rounded handle. Lancelot admired the restoration done on the leather-wrapped grip.

  Vivian, carrying a flat of odd-looking Periwinkle-colored flowers, joined Lancelot where his handling of broadswords had cleared the area of customers, although some were watching from a distance. Kathy kept Vivian between her and Lancelot, suddenly aware of how natural the broadsword looked in his hands.

  “You haven’t been swinging that thing around in here, have you, Monte?” Vivian joked, a warm feeling shooting through her as Lancelot’s hands flexed around the grip.

  “No, I haven’t been swinging it around.” Lancelot graced her with a look of exasperation before turning his attention to Kathy. “We’ll take this sword, too. Do you have a case for the scabbard and sword?”

  “Sure!” Kathy’s eyes lit up at the prospect of a sale in addition to the Wolf’s Bane. “We have a leather casing for it, or a wood display case.”

  “The leather casing would be fine.”

  “Would you mind carrying it over to the counter?” Kathy asked. “I’ll get the casing, and we can finish up. Is there anything else you’d like to look over?”

  “Not for me,” Lancelot answered, glancing at Vivian. “How about you, Vicster?”

  “Yeah.” Vivian flashed Lancelot an annoyed look for his mangling of her name. “I saw some crystals on the way in that I’d like to examine more closely.”

  “Fine. Just set your things near the counter over there,” Kathy pointed out happily, “and take your time shopping. I’ll get the casing and be right back.”

  “Can you meld the Wolf’s Bane to my sword, or some kind of silver mix with a spell?” Lancelot inquired.

  “What about your silver-bullet-shooting Colt .45?”

  “Remember our little talk about the police eventually sticking their noses into this? I’d like to have alternatives. I’m worried about a lot of things lately, like high-powered rifles from a distance. It won’t be long before someone decides to nuke us from orbit.”

  “Vamps and shifters don’t use high-powered rifles or explosives,” Vivian stated.

  “I’ll put that in your epitaph,” Lancelot replied, holding his hand up as if displaying a newspaper headline. “Here lies the Vicster. She knew beyond doubt that no self-respecting vampire or shape-shifter would ever use a rifle…until her death.”

  Vivian laughed. “Point taken. Excalibur is a sword, you know. What’d you buy that piece of crap in here for?”

  “Sacrilege,” Lancelot exclaimed with animated disgust, placing the sword and scabbard near the Wolf’s Bane on a table next to the counter. “This is a sword. I want a weapon, not a demon-cursed soul-stealer.”

  “You’ll need Excalibur to face Dunkan,” Vivian replied, pulling Lancelot along with her toward the crystals on display. Vivian passed her hand slowly over the display. A jagged-edged dark purple Amethyst Cluster glowed, and Vivian smiled. “That’s what I’m talkin’ about.”

  “What?”

  Vivian picked up the crystal from its display, and handed it to Lancelot. “Take this, and close your eyes.”

  Lancelot did as he was told. Again, the crystal glowed inside his massive fist. A feeling of well-being swept over him, dulling the tense state Lancelot had grown accustomed to enduring. Opening his hand and his eyes, he handed the crystal to Vivian.

  “Not for me,” Lancelot shook his head. “I don’t know what you have planned for the crystal, but it blunts me as if I were a sword swung into a rock surface.”

  “I figured anything soothing would turn you off.”

  “You can soothe me.”

  Vivian blushed under Lancelot’s gaze. She turned away with crystal in hand toward the counter. Her hand trembled where it clutched the crystal. Vivian mumbled curses under her breath, as she felt a familiar wetness of desire. Before she could reach the counter, the three middle-aged Goth-dressed women blocked Vivian’s way. The women had been watching Vivian and Lancelot closely since first they entered the shop, wondering why Kathy had come out to greet them. Vivian looked at them questioningly with a tight smile forming.

  “Hi, girls,” Vivian said. “What’s up?”

  “You fancy yourself some kind of witch,” the oldest-looking woman with gray clipped hair asked, her face contorting into a grimace masquerading as a smile.

  “Right now, I’m just a customer on the way to the check-out counter, Elvira,” Vivian replied, her piercing blue eyes reflecting the ages of her existence for a moment. “If you don’t move from my path, I’ll help you out of the way.”

  “Your big boyfriend doesn’t scare us. We’re real witches, not the play type,” the woman virtually hissed at Vivian, as her two friends moved in on each side like menacing bookends. “Don’t disrespect us, or you will pay for your mistake dearly.”

  “First off,” Lancelot declared, inserting himself into the conversation and taking the crystal from Vivian, “I’m not trying to scare you three. Secondly, I’ll be over at the counter, paying for our stuff, my lady. Play nice with your new friends.”

  “I’m trying to figure out what these three harpies stopped us for, Monte,” Vivian called out after Lancelot, as he had moved through the three self-proclaimed witches before they could register his passing.

  “Did you just call us harpies?” Grabbing Vivian’s arm, the woman on the leader’s right, who sported one-inch-long magenta-colored hair, and whose face sought to project ominous rage hissed at her. “We were only to watch you two young dolts. But now-”

  Vivian gestured in a circular motion with her right hand, and the woman’s mouth clamped shut. “Watch us? Who told you three miscreants to watch us?”

  Releasing Vivian, Magenta-Hair clapped her hands to her now-sealed mouth. Vivian wiggled her right forefinger and Magenta-Hair’s mouth popped open. The three women backed away from Vivian, only to run into a now grim-faced Lancelot.

  “Did I hear right?” Lancelot asked Vivian.

  “I assumed that we’d be watched, but I never figured we’d be followed by the cast of Macbeth.” Vivian shook a warning finger at the three women to stay still. “Dunkan either has far-reaching influence we don’t know about, or he has Mallor’s and Madeline’s place bugged. Which is it, ladies? Tell us what you know, and we part company. Give me the silent treatment, and I’ll make parts of you three wither one limb at a time until you all look like stick people.”

  “Hel…” the leader began to scream, but her mouth was sealed immediately.

  “Be silent, be still, walk along, follow our will,” Vivian murmured, leaning close to the three now terrified women.

  “They’ll come with us until they get the big picture,” Vivian explained, leading the way to the counter, with the three Goths following he
r in single file.

  Vivian called Madeline on her cell-phone. She explained what had happened, while they waited for Kathy. Vivian listened with a smile, and then laughed before saying goodbye. She indicated the three remain where they were, and pulled Lancelot to the side.

  “Madeline says we’re screwed as far as what happens in the next couple of hours, but Dunkan’s bug will work as a two-way device she can follow to its source, if we can find out how Dunkan traced us. She said don’t get killed.”

  “It looks as if we’ll have to take these three with us. I’m not too crazy about letting them loose to give us away to King Fang.”

  “Don’t…” Vivian began, but shut up as Kathy approached.

  “There you are.” Kathy handed the leather case to Lancelot, while looking toward the three Goths with some confusion. Leaning toward Vivian and Lancelot, she spoke in a hushed tone. “Do you two know Glinda, Gabriel, and Ginger? They’re harmless, and very good customers.”