“Telepathy?” Arthur said, and Valet nodded.
“That’s awesome,” Morgan said. “Can you talk to each other from a long distance?”
Arms shook his head no.
“Same room?” Morgan asked.
Valet nodded.
“Good to know,” Arthur said.
Morgan looked at her hands, which were speckled with dirt and dried blood, and frowned. “I need to go to the bathroom and wash up.”
“Yeah, me too,” Arthur replied.
Together they went through the bathroom door and into a short hallway with a Men’s bathroom on one side and a Women’s on the other.
And there was a glowing triskelion in front of each door.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” Arthur said. “There are shades in the bathrooms?!”
“I’ve been in some pretty rough bathrooms before,” Morgan sighed, “but none that were haunted.”
“Pete’s Pump-and-Go out on 9th Avenue might as well be haunted,” Arthur said. “Grandma likes to fill up there.”
Morgan cringed. “I had to go bad when Dad stopped there for gas one time. I went in and ran right back out.”
“There’s a patch of woods out behind the station,” Arthur said. “I recommend going there if you have to.”
Morgan’s face lit up with a rare, genuine smile. “That’s where I went!”
Arthur drew his raygun and opened the door to the men’s room — all twelve shades were massed at the entrance. The dark-heart wasn’t visible, but since it was L-shaped, he guessed the stone lay deeper within. He shut the door.
“Let’s check the women’s. We only need one bathroom.”
Morgan opened the door. The shades were massed at this entrance, too, but the dark-heart hovered in the air over them. Morgan shot the stone, and the shades disappeared.
“We’ll take turns,” Arthur said.
“What about the other bathroom?”
“We’ll clean it out later,” Arthur said. He motioned to the door. “Ladies first.”
By the time Morgan came back out — what seemed an eternity later — Arthur was doing the pee-pee dance. Morgan had washed the blood and dirt off her face, hands, and arms. Her clothes were still filthy, of course.
Arthur rushed by her. “About time!”
“I was only in there ten minutes, moron.”
The bathroom was more lavish than any Arthur had ever been in. The marble tiles were trimmed with sparkling glass mosaics. The walls of the four stalls were made of mahogany wood. The bronze sinks and accompanying mirrors stood out from a wall-sized mural of a hillside of pink and purple flowers. The water faucets, soap dispensers, and hand dryers were all automated.
Arthur finished his business, cleaned himself up as best as he could at the sink, and returned to the Dining Hall.
Valet stood tall off to the side, waiting to see if Arthur needed anything. Arms paced around nervously.
“Arms, you’re not used to being anywhere but the Armory, are you?” Arthur said.
Arms gave him a thumbs-up.
“Sit down, please. You’re both still wounded.”
They didn’t budge.
“It would make me happy if you did. So please, don’t make me order you.”
Both of them took a seat — at the opposite end of the enormous table. Arthur sighed. Whatever.
After that, everyone sat in silence, probably all half-asleep and lost in their thoughts — not good ones, in Arthur's case. The smell of cooking food eased into the room; Arthur’s stomach cramped and grumbled. Waiter bustled into the room carrying a pitcher and a basket of freshly baked yeast rolls with glistening, buttered tops. After that, Valet helped Waiter and Cook carry all the trays of food into the Dining Hall. Somehow, in less than half an hour, Cook had whipped up a roasted chicken, mashed potatoes with mushroom gravy, and broccoli drizzled with olive oil. Lexi even got her piece of salmon, which looked amazing.
“Can you eat it, my dear?” Vassalus asked Morgan.
She nodded. “Except the potatoes.”
“You don’t like potatoes?” Arthur asked, and she shook her head. “I’ve never met anyone who didn’t like potatoes.”
She shivered. “The texture is all … ugh.”
Waiter poured sparkling red grape juice into their glasses, and then they ate. Grandma Nelson was a fabulous cook, but her meals were McDonald’s compared to this. Arthur muttered between bites about how wonderful the food was — it was definitely the best he’d ever had. Morgan didn’t speak, but she looked content, and Lexi held her nose over the salmon and frequently oohed and aahed, which made Vassalus continuously groan and shake his head.
Arthur stuffed himself and finished long before Morgan, who ate slowly. As soon as she finally finished cleaning her plate, except for the potatoes pushed to the side, Waiter brought them bowls of blackberries covered in cream. Then, Waiter brought them steaming cups of black tea.
Arthur took a sip and coughed. “Whoa — that’s strong.”
Morgan drank some. “No kidding, but it’s good.”
Lexi bobbed her head in the air, sniffing. “That, my dears, is a proper cup of English breakfast.”
“You, dear Alexis, never seem to know anything of use,” said Vassalus.
Lexi stuck her tongue out at him.
“Well, I can use some strong tea to stay awake,” Arthur said. “I’m exhausted. Must be really late, huh?”
Morgan drew out her iPhone and squinted as she angled it one way and then another, trying to read through the cracks on the screen. “It’s only 6:38.”
“Seriously?”
She sighed with irritation. “Look, if we’re going to have to talk so much, let’s get one thing straight, okay? Otherwise you’ll drive me nuts.”
“Okay, what?”
“I don’t joke much.”
“Got it.”
“And I never joke when numbers are involved.”
“Oookay.”
“Never.”
“Roger that.” So weird. “I guess it just feels later because of all we’ve been through. Plus I’m stuffed with food, and I’m ready for bed.”
“But we have to stay up,” Morgan said, “because of our possible concussions.”
“We still need to figure out where we’re going to sleep, though,” Arthur said, “unless we’re going to spend the night in here.”
“The Dining Hall doesn’t look comfortable to me,” Morgan said.
“Valet, where are the bedrooms?” Arthur asked.
Valet pointed to Arthur and signaled that it was the ninth door on the opposite side of the hall, then he pointed to Morgan and indicated the eighth door on the same side.
“I don’t want to go back out into the hallway,” Arthur said, “especially that far into it. We’d have to fight every monster out there, just to go to bed.”
“The Smoking Lounge has cozy chairs and two plump leather couches,” Lexi said, with that perplexed look she got on her face when she realized that she knew something without knowing how. Grandma Paladin must’ve spent a lot of time in there. Or maybe when Arthur was a baby, this was the only place he’d ever seen her …
“We’ll have to fight more shades,” Arthur said, looking at the door with the sigil glowing in front of it.
“But so far we haven’t encountered any wraiths in the rooms,” Morgan said, “just shades from the dark-hearts. And we wouldn’t have to go back out into the hallway.”
“I shouldn’t think we would find the mightiest of our enemies congregating in the Smoking Lounge,” said Vassalus.
“Let’s do it then,” Arthur said.
Chapter Twelve
No Smoking Allowed
Rayguns readied, swords drawn, energy shield activated, fangs bared — they charged into the Smoking Lounge, and within a minute, they safely disposed of all the shades. Arthur felt good about how easy that had been. He wasn’t really afraid of the shades anymore, but he was worried about the wraiths, since they were supposed t
o be a lot tougher. Still, the numina had taken out one of them earlier on the way to the Armory, and that was without any help from his guns or Morgan’s shield. And while Lady Ylliara had spoken of the warlock in a way that had made Arthur assume he’d never stand a chance, he was starting to think otherwise. He was a Paladin, after all. He may not have had the training, but he was born for this. Maybe he’d be okay after all.
The Smoking Lounge did indeed have big, plump leather chairs and couches, along with a bookshelf packed with musty tomes, a small table with a chess set, a pool table in the back, and a jukebox — in mint condition — with vinyl records. Beside each chair stood an engraved silver ashtray on a wooden pedestal, and on the wall hung a collection of ornate smoking pipes, some with strange curling shapes. Grandpa Nelson had left Arthur his smoking pipe when he died, but Grandma Nelson had taken it away saying Arthur could have it when he grew up, because by then he would have the good sense to never try smoking one. Grandma Nelson was a firm believer that when you turned eighteen years old you suddenly attained a heap of wisdom, as if by magic. Arthur had tried to explain that he didn’t need to be an adult to know that smoking was bad for him, but she just wouldn’t listen.
Arthur examined the jukebox. “I’ve never heard of any of these people: Thelonious Monk … Duke Ellington … Count Basie … Dizzie Gillespie … Sun Ra …”
“I’ve never heard of them either,” Morgan said, “though Ra is the Egyptian God of the Sun.”
“Jazz artists, my dear,” said Lexi. “There is no finer form of music than jazz.”
“Almost half the songs are by this Sun Ra guy,” Arthur said with a shrug. He started to hit the button for one, but Morgan shook her head.
“I can’t handle music right now. I need quiet.”
“Maybe later, then.”
Morgan cringed. “Yeah … maybe …”
Arthur was asleep within a minute of sinking into one of the soft, high-back leather chairs … until a paw batted him hard on the nose.
“Stay awake,” Lexi said.
Arthur took a book from the shelf: Rocket Ships of the Andromeda. He flipped through it … his eyes widening with each page … then excitedly, he read the title out to Morgan.
“Is that fiction?” she said.
He showed her the book and its pictures of rocket ships that looked like they’d come straight out of old sci-fi movies.
“Surely it has to be,” Morgan said. “Those can’t be actual — hey! I can read this.”
“Well, obviously.”
“Look at the letters, Arthur. Look real close.”
Arthur peered at them, focused, and — “Hey, those aren’t English letters! But … but I can read it.” He shook his head. “I honestly thought it was English. Must be magic.”
“Stop saying that,” Morgan said.
“I’m going to keep saying it until you come up with a better explanation.”
“You just wait — I will.”
Arthur curled up in the chair with the book open … and he fell asleep. When Lexi pawed him awake again, Morgan was flipping the pages of another book and saying things like “yuck” and “disgusting” as she went.
“What are you looking at?”
“Creatures of Pagagluck,” she replied, “which is some planet on the other side of the galaxy. Mostly it's pictures.”
He walked over and looked. Morgan was right — the creatures were disgusting. Everything on Pagagluck was slimy, scaly, tentacled, and oozing something: venom, poisonous vapor, acid, or … muck spiders?! How could something ooze a spider? And he could tell this book — if he squinted just right — was also written in an alien language with twisting letters.
“So,” Morgan said. “Are you ever going to explain how you managed to save me from the training monster?”
“What do you mean?”
“You jumped out in front of it.”
“Yeah, so?”
“You shouldn’t have been able to make it there in time, but you were moving fast — almost superhuman fast.”
“It was just adrenaline,” he lied. He really didn’t want to discuss the power that had come over him, because it was like the feeling from his tantrums, only far stronger — and it scared the crap out of him.
“No, it was definitely more than that,” Lexi said. “I’m not sure that I could even run that fast.”
Arthur sighed. “It felt … sort of like … you know when the Manse shifted, and I told you it was like I had a second heartbeat? I’ve gotten that feeling a few times before, like earlier today when I got really angry at Derek. Usually, it’s like I’m surrounded by darkness, but this time it was like there was light surrounding me instead — and it was stronger.”
“The Power of the Multiversal Paladin,” Lexi declared. “Er … I mean … I guess that’s what it is.”
“It’s happening more as I get older, but it’s usually very brief and I don’t get stronger or anything, I just get uncontrollably angry. Like when I threw that book in class.”
“What triggered it in the Training Room?” Morgan asked.
He stared into her storm-blue eyes. You did. I didn’t want to see you get hurt.
Of course, there was no way he was going to tell her that.
He shrugged. “I guess the danger we were in … or … whatever.” He glanced rapidly around the room, looking for a way to escape this conversation. “Have you ever played pool before?”
“No,” Morgan replied after a pause, perplexed no doubt by the sudden shift in topic. “And I don’t want to.”
“Well, I’ve got to do something more active if I’m going to stay awake. I’m too tired to read, and if I sit down, I’m going to fall asleep.”
“Fine,” she huffed, “but I’ve never played before.”
“I have … a few times. I know how to play nine-ball … I think. I’ll show you.”
For what seemed a long time, they played pool badly. Morgan was brilliant and beautiful, but she stunk at pool — her aim was just as bad with a cue as it was with a raygun.
“I’m not unathletic,” she said, after losing a third time without sinking a single ball. “I can run for miles. I just can’t do this sort of … precision stuff.”
Lexi and Vassalus cheered them on, though Vassalus couldn’t keep the rules straight and kept referring to the game as snooker. During the fifth match, Lexi leapt onto the table and attacked the balls, sending them flying all over the room. Once she calmed down, she was terribly embarrassed.
“I have no idea what came over me,” she said, as she hid behind one of the big leather chairs.
Finally, halfway through their eighth, or maybe ninth, game, Morgan groaned and tossed her cue onto the table.
“Arthur, I don’t care if I die from going to sleep with a concussion. I’m exhausted and I’m hurting all over. My head doesn’t even feel as bad as the rest of me.”
“All right then. Let’s each take a couch.”
Arthur curled up on one couch, wishing he had a blanket, while Morgan took the other. Lexi and Vassalus took up positions in front of the door that led to the hallway, while Arms and Valet guarded the door leading back into the dining hall.
“Valet, is there some way to dim the lights?” Arthur asked.
Valet clapped his hands once, and the lights dimmed to halfway. He tilted his head toward Arthur.
“That’s good,” Arthur replied. He didn’t want to sleep in total darkness — not here. “Goodnight, Morgan.”
She didn’t respond, and he figured she’d already gone to sleep, but just when he started to drift off she said, “Arthur …”
“Yes, Morgan?”
“Thanks. Thanks for … for saving my life.”
“You saved me first, remember? Don’t worry about it. We'll probably be saving each other a lot, you know.”
Again, just as he was falling asleep, Morgan said, “Arthur …”
“Yes, Morgan?”
“We are friends …”
“We a
re,” Arthur agreed. Now.
“Arthur … you … you're my only friend.”
Arthur sighed. “You're my only friend, too, Morgan. Now let me sleep.”
Chapter Thirteen
Please Clear the Area
Arthur woke to a steadily brightening room. He rubbed his eyes, stretched — groaned — and sat up. He hurt everywhere, and could barely get his limbs to move. Valet clapped his hands, and the room returned to its normal level of brightness. Lexi was asleep at the door. Vassalus glanced down at her and shook his head — then he stifled a yawn. Morgan was asleep — flat on her back, with her feet crossed, and her hands folded together over her chest, as if she were a mummy. Arthur smiled. She looked … almost angelic … when she was sleeping.
“Is it morning?” Arthur asked Valet quietly.
Valet nodded.
“Doesn’t feel like I was out that long.”
“I would guess you slept eight, maybe ten hours,” said Vassalus.
Valet held up nine fingers.
Arthur stood and immediately grabbed his back. That was definitely the result of an entire day of fighting for his life and getting knocked against a wall, capped off by sleeping on a couch. After stretching, he knelt beside Morgan.
“Morgan,” he whispered. “It’s time to wake up.”
Her eyes peeled open and met his. She stared at him — then blinked rapidly a few times — then, like a snake striking, she slapped him.
He fell onto his backside. “Ow! What’d you do that for?!”
She sat up and pointed at him. “Don’t watch me while I’m sleeping, perv!”
“I wasn’t watching you — I was waking you.”
“You couldn’t do that from across the room?”
“I was trying to do it nicely. Geez. Some morning person you are.”
“It can’t be morning.” She pulled out her iPhone and groaned. “Ugh, it’s 6:11 AM … way too early to be up.”
Arthur shrugged. “If I sleep on this couch any longer, I'm not sure I'll be able to move. Besides, I'm starving.”
“Fine.”
They took turns with the bathroom, and sat down at the table in the Dining Hall. Waiter brought them a classic breakfast: bacon, eggs, pancakes, syrup, butter, and orange juice. Arthur wondered where the ingredients came from: Was this real bacon and eggs? After the first bite, he decided it didn't matter. The food was amazing. Arthur thought the butter was the ultimate butter on which all other butter was based. He cleaned his plate, and the servitors brought out bowls of fruit.
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