The revered table, designed by Merlin, was comprised of four concentric circles.
The center circle was the largest and had an elaborately carved earth, the oceans painted blue and a large tree of life on each continent. It also had a circle of the heavens with copper inlays depicting the sun, moon, and stars. The next circle had ornate, flat carvings of knights and animals of the earth including whales, lions, birds, deer, and horses. It was divided, like a large pie, with pewter inlays of swords, pointing towards the center. After that, a small circle within reach of those seated, acted as a large lazy susan with twelve statues of griffins that acted like handles so pitchers of blood, or wine, could be passed around the table. The final circle, the smallest, was stationary with twelve square turquoise inlays at each seat like placemats.
Harold was addressing the knights, standing at the front of the room, when I walked in and took a chair by the door. He had obviously not slept since I’d last seen him. He looked worse than I did; wearing the same clothes he’d arrived in, his hair tousled and dirty, which for some strange reason gave me some relief.
My werewolf sense of smell provided a striking whiff of his body odor. Oddly, I found it more intoxicating than the scent of Green Irish Tweed. Harold suddenly presented an eye-catching figure, commanding the Knights of the Round Table with his knowledge, standing straight by a white board, pointing with his delicate fingers. I found myself looking at him in a different light. The Professor had abruptly become sexually attractive to me.
Fortunately, it was a feeling I easily shrugged off with the awareness that his werewolf pheromones were signaling me. The scents emanating from an individual to attract members of the same species were radiating from Harold due to his lack of showering. It was a condition carefully explained to me once by The Master when I inexplicably found myself drawn to him during a martial arts training session and started giving him googly eyes.
“My little one,” he told me, “I am your teacher; you are my student, those are our only roles in this life. Also, remember to shower often and I’ll do the same so we won’t be attracted by the pheromones we are exuding.”
Harold said, in a scholarly tone, “Dr. Cameron and Dr. Murray, the brilliant lead scientists at Camelot, have spent the night going over the information my wife gave her life to provide. They are continuing their work now, trying to find an antidote to the engineered zombie virus created by Claudius and they’ve asked me to give you a report.”
The Professor explained that there are over seven billion people in the world with different blood types represented by A, B, AB or O and an Rh negative or positive rating. “As we all know, the Rh antigens are either present or not present, resulting in Rh positive or Rh negative blood. The Rh negative population doesn’t have the protein in their red blood cells, for reasons we don’t yet understand,” The Professor stated, assuming that we all knew what this meant when I had absolutely no clue.
“That’s right,” resident conspiracy theorist Mary O’Malley said, “Rh negative proves my theory that aliens seeded this planet. Nobody knows how this factor came to exist. An Rh negative pregnant woman will develop antibodies to an Rh positive baby and kill the child. How can this happen unless Rh negative comes from alien blood?”
I had been privy to Mary’s complete theory as she divulged, in detail one evening we spent drinking wine in the game room, that she believed an alien species dropped off their criminally insane on earth, using our planet as a prison. They interbred with the human species and since they were insane, seeded a war-mongering bunch of planetary, destructive psychopaths. It was a theory too similar to Scientology to appeal to me although I did lean towards accepting the ancient alien astronauts theory of visitation made popular by Erich von Daniken’s book, “Chariots of the Gods.”
Of course, the people of earth were lame enough to believe that the aliens were Gods, which made sense because humans can be so foolish. I hope that there is an all knowing force that is good and within us, but it’s doubtful as more and more time passes without human enlightenment. It seems like we are all just fools on a planet that endlessly hurtles through space at 67,000 miles per hour.
“That’s possible,” Harold said, condescendingly to Mary’s question, “but let’s concentrate on what we know. Claudius plans to release a virus that’s an encoded form of the Black Plague and zombie infection that will target and kill humans who are Rh positive by attaching to the protein that is present in their blood. The virus is contagious during the incubation period of three weeks so people will show no symptoms but spread the disease. The kill rate is 99.9 percent, according to their reports, so essentially only the fifteen percent of the population that is Rh negative will survive the disease. The plans detail that the remaining population will be enslaved to serve and feed vampires.”
Lance took a place next to Harold and continued, “These crimes against humanity include using the bodies of those killed as fertilizer and trying to convince the vampire population that they are culling humans to save the overpopulated planet. People will endure watching loved ones die from the virus only to see them rise from the dead as zombies.”
Harold resumed, “They will infect human carriers who are Rh negative. Their blood can carry the virus but they are not susceptible to it since they lack the antigen, resulting in a spread of the disease throughout the population. Our reports state that Claudius and his army are now kidnapping people in Las Vegas-- hundreds are reported missing, and are most likely Rh negative. People from all over the world visit Las Vegas and when they return to their home countries they will spread the virus. No date is specified in the plans we obtained but the time must be close, as Nola can attest,” he said, to my distress, motioning for me to speak. Addressing the knights, who had dismissed my previous warnings, gave me a sudden stomach ache.
“They no longer give a shit,” I began, awkwardly. “Vampires brazenly attacked a small casino, intending to drain every person there and they would have succeeded if Mark Anthony hadn’t killed them. Claudius is responsible for a baby being turned into a vampire, for Christ’s sake! He killed Hypatia! He plans to murder billions of people. He needs to be stopped, now. This isn’t a preemptive strike anymore. What more evidence do you need?”
Lance picked up, before I started a swear word tirade, “The plans also revealed that they intend to attack and destroy Camelot. We are all that stands between humanity and complete madness. I now believe that we must act. We are all in agreement that we don’t want a war. I suggest that we seek to assassinate Claudius and end this, now.”
“I disagree,” I said, startling everyone, “it’s not an assassination; it’s a just execution for crimes against humanity.”
Joan was the first to stand and say, “I see now that Nola and Lance seek a righteous path. Claudius is guilty and must pay for his crimes.”
Lady Catherine, Makeda, Lozen, Mary, and Vivian stood in unison and affirmed their agreement. “Yes, Claudius must die!” Lozen yelled.
“Yes! Now is the time!” Makeda joined in.
“It is our duty to save Earth’s people!” Vivian exclaimed.
“Let’s end this plan!” Mary shouted.
“I affirm our oath,” Sam stated, “we fight for humanity. We must put an end to the reign of Claudius.”
Galahad and Hector shouted their agreement with calls of “Claudius must die!”
“To see what’s right and not do it is cowardice,” Confucius, my Master, said. “We are not cowards. We will endure and save the humans. Claudius has overstayed his welcome. It’s time to destroy him.”
Lance put an arm around my shoulder and I wondered if their newfound acceptance of taking action against Claudius had anything to do with his plans to destroy Camelot. Whatever the reason, I didn’t care since I felt accepted by the Knights of the Round Table for the first time in eighteen years. Harold came to stand on the other side of me and placed his hand on my lower waist, giving me googly eyes and a goofy smile. I obviously needed
a shower.
“It’s decided then,” Lance said firmly. “We leave tomorrow to find Claudius and end this plan. Tonight we will commemorate our oath to humanity—on to the banquet room.”
“I’ll be there shortly,” I said, “I’m going to shower and change.” I gave Harold a cold look and told him, “I suggest you do the same, Professor. You once told me I smelled bad and needed a shower; I’m returning the favor.” He gave me a questioning gaze, a hurt look on his face.
The long corridor to my room was quiet and empty; Braveheart had likely gone to visit a livelier floor. I took a long shower making sure it was hot enough to wash off any Harold-attracting pheromones. Taking time to put on makeup, I would no doubt miss the first course of the banquet but it was a necessary ritual to feel completely ready to socialize.
I quickly put on my favorite dress—a light, red and flowing ensemble that was so comfortable it felt like I was wearing nothing. The amulet from Harold and my tiny diamond earrings would be the only jewelry to adorn my skin. I certainly couldn’t compete with Catherine the Great’s crown jewels. To complete my attire, I put on the only pair of heels in my wardrobe-- a patent leather, ankle strap pair of shoes that made me feel dressed up and ready for a banquet, purchased on a mission to New York and after I was woke to the cruelty of real leather.
It was necessary to dress up for the Grand Hall and Ballroom to honor the exquisite beauty of the room which took up the entire floor. Nature had made the cavern and added to the splendor of the pool floor but Camelot’s interior decorators had made the banquet level a breathtaking example of elegance. The marble stairs of the grand staircase led to the only balcony in the complex, surrounding the entire room so guests could view the ballroom below.
I thought about taking the staircase but nixed that idea since my lack of human coordination in high heels could result in a tumble down the stairs arrival. My werewolf self could ace the long stairway but I always attended events as a human. Heading towards the elevator I heard the familiar ringtone of “Fur Elise” and realized my cell phone was still in my suite. The entire complex had the latest technology, with cable and boosters that allowed wireless reception, whether that was a blessing or a curse was up for grabs. Since it could be a call about Heather, I hurried back to the room in time to miss the call.
For some reason, Mark had called, his number registering on my phone, no doubt from our encounter with the zombies when he loaded the walkie-talkie app. He’d left a weird message on my voicemail. “Nola, this is Mark. You’re in extreme danger if you’re at Camelot. Claudius is sending thirty well-trained assassins there for a preemptive strike. You all need to get out of there or prepare for battle, now.”
I immediately called the security room. “Everything okay up there?”
“Yes, it’s quiet,” the guard replied.
“You need to call for some back-up tonight. I just received warning about a possible attack,” I told him.
“Who is this?”
“It’s Nola Marrs--do as I say,” I replied angrily.
“That’s an order that needs to come from the Knights of the Round Table. Please see that one of them calls,” he said, hanging up. The best course of action was to head to the grand hall although it was tempting to think about heading upstairs to kick the security guard’s ass.
Paranoia knocked with the clicking sound of my heels hitting the large polished porcelain tiles in the corridor. They were put in after my complaints to Lance about how much I hated carpeting. I could never understand how restaurants or hotels had carpets when they were nothing but germ collectors. Lance had listened, unfortunately, since every footstep on tiles was heard in my room, an annoying sound that had previously been muffled by carpets.
There were shadowy figures by the staircase but it was my hope they were just revelers heading to the event. The elevator would get me there quickly and I dismissed the thought that the door would open to the scene of a massacre. I tried returning Mark’s call but couldn’t pick up reception in the elevator. The elevator bell signaled my arrival and I was greeted by the happy sight of individuals gathered together to enjoy each other’s company.
The room was abuzz with laughter, discussion, and background music. Lance designed the high, domed ceiling, rising eighteen feet, with a grand purpose that was always the highlight of the evening. Three large chandeliers, made with Baccarat crystals, were just one focal point in the grand hall. The entire floor had light maple hardwood floors, made for dancing with a springy subfloor. A built-in, state-of-the-art sound system was playing John Lennon’s “Imagine” when I arrived. Sir Hector was slow dancing with Lady Joan--a happy, dreamy look on his face while she seemed to only be going through the motions.
Huge Grecian fluted pillars lined each side of the room and art and tapestries adorned the walls. Close observation would show that the life-sized oil portraits in golden, gilded frames were of the Knights of the Round Table while the largest featured Merlin. A large banquet table was set up for the knights, with smaller round tables for guests; each table had glowing candles and floral arrangements. The room could easily accommodate four hundred but tonight it was set up for half that amount, likely due to the short notice. Harold, freshly showered, was seated at the big table, next to The Master. He was holding Robin and Alexander was floating around the table seeking attention with the shameless abandon appropriate for his age.
He had sprouted his fangs and was making growling sounds with a smile on his face. Catherine the Great was laughing and vying for his attention by showing her sharp choppers and pretending to bite at him. His giggles were infectious; it would have made a perfect YouTube video for Halloween.
“Nola, over here,” Harold said, waving and pointing at the chair to his left. “I’ve saved you a seat.” Master Kong sat to his right. He was dressed in black linen and must have borrowed Harold one of his white linen outfits since they both looked like piano keys.
“The ravioli is superb Nola. I also saved you a salad,” he said, pouring a glass of wine for me. He really was so sweet, I felt undeserving after snapping at him to take a shower.
Lance was preparing to give a toast, standing at the forefront of the large, square banquet table. “Let us unite to move this world forward to better things,” he raised his glass, as did all at the table, except for me.
“Excuse me,” I said, “there’s urgent news.”
All eyes were now on me, causing me to sweat, and I saw Catherine roll her eyes.
“I just received a call that Claudius is launching an attack on Camelot tonight.”
There were audible gasps around the table.
“He wouldn’t dare!” Lady Catherine exclaimed, clutching the diamonds on her choker necklace.
“Who told you this?” Lance asked, putting down his glass.
“I’d rather not say, but it came from a reliable source. We need to prepare now for an assault. We’re always one step behind Claudius. We just decided to attack him and we’re probably a day late. Of course he would launch a strike at Camelot. He knows that all of you will fight him and try to save humanity.”
“We need to know your source,” Lozen said.
I didn’t want to reveal that it was Mark since he may have warned me in confidence. But unfortunately, there seemed to be no choice. “Okay, Mark Anthony just left me a message that thirty assassins are coming to Camelot. Could we please prepare for a battle?”
“Well, did you consider that he’s just trying to get in your pants by contacting you?” Catherine said mockingly.
“We can’t take any chances,” Lance said, “let’s reinforce the top floor and get some weapons here.”
“There’s no need to stop the festivities,” Sir Hector announced. “I’ll go to security and make a sweep of the grounds. We have twenty vampire guard dogs—they’ll make sure there are no intruders.”
“I’ll go get some weapons and bring them back, although it seems likely that Anthony would give us a false alarm,” Lozen sai
d.
“I’ll go with you,” Sam volunteered.
“I can go too,” I said.
Sam gave me a soft smile. “Nola, you probably haven’t had a good meal in a long time. Sit down and eat; we have it under control.”
Taking my place next to Harold, since I didn’t go where I wasn’t invited, except on a mission, I said, “Fine. Thanks, Sam.”
The remaining knights took their seats and tried to return the party back to normal. Alexander made a hard landing on the table, nearly knocking over my wine. “Come here, little boy,” I cooed, reaching over and grabbing him.
Catherine stood up and came over to take him. Ignoring me, she said to Harold, “Your baby is a delight.” I happily turned him over, forgetting the slight, and enjoyed the pasta and wine.
“Harold is an apt pupil,” Master Kong said in an even tone, turning towards me. “In fact, he’s an exceptional student, much further along in his training than you were in the same amount of time. Actually, much more so--we only had a few hours of training and he can control the turn already.”
It wasn’t meant to be a bitchy remark or a slight. Confucius spoke the truth, all the time, without intent to hurt anyone. I accepted it as such and didn’t get pissed off. “Well, what can you expect, Harold is a genius,” I said. Smiling at Harold, it was my attempt to flatter him and feel less guilty after being so nasty to a true friend and telling him to shower. I wanted to mention that he’d been practicing with the meditation tapes and information I provided but decided it would make me look petty.
The Professor looked embarrassed. “Oh no, you are both too kind. Master Kong is an excellent teacher. I’m so fortunate to train with you.”
Noticing that Mr. Fructose wasn’t at the table, I asked, “Where’s your buddy Otis?”
“He decided to skip the festivities and head back to Vegas. He’s setting up the house for our return. He also kindly offered to get me more supplies to make colloidal silver. The poor man is going to be exhausted,” Harold said.
Blood Crusade Page 23
