Avalon's Last Knight

by Jackson C. Garton

  “Lance, no,” he whispers. I let go of him instantly and remove my hand. He grabs my wrist and kisses the tips of my finger before I can back away. “I wasn’t kidding when I said I think it’s unfair to you. I’ll wait until you’re ready, so that we’re both ready.”

  “I don’t mind, really.” My protest is barely a squeak. “Because if you want—”

  “I’m not sure what that fucker Todd did to you, and to be honest, things are better that way, especially while he’s still in town.”

  “Oh, God, we don’t have to talk about this.”

  Arthur drops my hand. “But I promise you that I will give you as much time as you need. Because I love you, and I respect you, and I already know that I’m gonna to fuck up a bunch in the future, but I want us to be together. I’ve wanted it for a long time now. I mean, I can’t believe you never caught me starin’ at you like a freak during tutoring.”

  At some point, the universe had decided that, for better or for worse, our paths would cross, and things would never be the same again. Floods? Overdone. Fires? Too brutal. Earthquakes? Too messy. But Arthur and Lance? Just right.

  I put a few feet between us, because I don’t want him to see the tears in my eyes, and say, “I’m in love with you, too.” My body then drops into the water like the jerk I am, and I wait until I’m ready to stop hiding—maybe thirty seconds—because I’m a coward who can’t hold their breath that long.

  Arthur’s already putting on his jeans by the time I come up for air. He doesn’t mention the fact that I just told him that I’m in love with him for the first time ever, instead extending his hand and helping me up out of the water. Before my feet can hit the dock, he’s gathered me into his arms, his fingers interlaced in my wet, stringy hair.

  “Just hearing you say those four words is better than any sex I’ve ever had, and well worth the wait,” he says, our lips meeting one last time. “I love you too, Lance.”

  Mordy’s SUV pulls up to the lake house in a frenzy, a cloud of dirt trailing behind the vehicle. Morgan hops out of the car once it stops, and waves at us. Arthur takes my hand, and we walk up the hill to greet them. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous about the meeting. I want him to like Mordy and Morgan— hell, I want everyone to like one another, to get along—but Gwen’s already in a mood, and there’s all of this history that we may or may not share with one another. A possible nightmare lurking on the horizon.

  “Hey, guys,” I say. “I’m glad y’all were able to make it.”

  Mordy shakes Arthur’s hand, and I see Morgan look Arthur up and down behind her sunglasses.

  “You must be Morgan.” Arthur extends his hand and Morgan takes it reluctantly. A visible spark occurs between the two of them when their fingers touch. Arthur laughs and shakes his hand. “Shit,” he says. “Fuckin’ static electricity!”

  Mordy, Morgan and I exchange glances.

  This weekend might actually be the two longest days of my life.

  “Come on,” I say, taking Morgan’s arm. “I’ll show you around the house.”

  “Is Gwen here yet?” Morgan already likes Gwen, I can tell. “Do I have anything in my teeth?” she asks.

  Even though the solstice celebration doesn’t technically begin until tomorrow, when day breaks, Gwen and I start preparations for the day-long ritual by making little sachet bags of herbs for tea and blessing sticks to burn in the fire. I brought some copal for the purification ceremony, and even though I’ve never used it, I’m eager to add it to my practice.

  Morgan and Mordy spend most of the day and early evening making tamales and fritters for tomorrow’s brunch, while Arthur gathers kindling and wood for tonight’s fire. Then, after a short discussion, we all decide on going to bed early this evening and waking before sunrise, to soak up as many sunrays as possible. Gwen’s already started drinking. I hope she doesn’t ruin things for herself by waking up with a hangover, or by not waking until noon. That happened last year, and it wasn’t fun.

  By the time night falls, all of the food is stored neatly and nicely in the refrigerator, and all of our herbs have been rationed and wrapped. Coming to the lake house a day early was a good idea. Normally, any time Gwen, Arthur, and I try to plan a getaway or a camping trip someone ends up forgetting something, or we run out of something crucial on the first night. But not this time around—things feel good, serene even, given the circumstances with Emmett, and Gwen’s unfortunate breakup. Despite it all, I’m glad we’re spending the weekend together. Rocky Horror was fun—and Mordy was correct, seeing Arthur in a pair of tight, golden underwear was a need that I hadn’t realized I had—but something about the five of us celebrating the-season-to-come just feels right, like we’ve done it before.

  After Mordy gets the fire going, we all form a circle around it and dig our bare feet into the sand. Morgan claims she and Mordy are breaking initiation rules by being outside at night, and that they could face serious spiritual repercussions, but ends her monologue by saying it’s worth it—while staring straight at my sister, who is already drunk and oblivious to the comment.

  Gwen has brought an acoustic guitar with her to the fire, even though I told her to leave it at home, because who wants to listen to a bunch of drunk people singing off-key and strumming an out-of-tune guitar? She plays a few Beatles songs, then bends over to throw up into the grass. Arthur grabs the guitar from her and hands it to me. When she’s finished retching, I strum the guitar a few times and set the tuners, adjusting the pegs to the best of my ability.

  “Do you play?” Mordy asks, leaning back on his elbows. His silver tooth shimmers in the firelight, and I’m reminded of just how cool he is. “How ‘bout some Cardi B? Post Malone? Or old-school Bone Thugs?”

  “He knows the first Taylor Swift album by heart,” Arthur says. He gets up and pokes the fire with a big stick. I glare at the back of his head.

  Morgan giggles. “What? Do you really? You mean that country album, like Fearless, or whatever?”

  Arthur replies before I can, “Yeah, he knows the whole fuckin’ album. Start to finish. You should ask him to play.”

  Two summers ago, right after I graduated, Arthur and I had learned to play the guitar at the same time. YouTube was a great resource, and it hadn’t taken either of us long to learn a few songs. By the end of July—that summer—we were pretty good, because all we had done was play video games and watch YouTube tutorials. It had been the best possible way to spend our vacation, actually. But I learned the songs for him, because she’s his favorite singer, problematic guilty pleasure or no.

  “Oh yeah,” I say, trying my best to deflect his comment. “You know all the words to all the songs.”

  Our dirty secret is out in the open, and all anyone can do is laugh to the point of tears and gasp for air while Arthur and I are staring at each other like we’ve just enacted the biggest betrayal in the world.

  Mordy eventually talks both of us into performing the entire album. Arthur can’t sing to save his life, and Gwen’s guitar is a cheap piece of shit, so the tuning keeps slipping, but we do the damn thing anyway. I know that when Gwen’s head pops up after we’re finished, she’s going to ask one of us to go get more booze because she drank the last wine cooler, and because we’re out of Popsicles.

  “I’m not going to jail for you,” I say. “Why don’t you get Mordy to do it?” I realize just how foolish I sound as soon as the words leave my mouth—Mordy isn’t from these parts, and the hills can be onerous to navigate at night. The only way to the gas station is by walking half a mile down the road, and three-quarters of a mile after you make a right turn. There’s no way he could walk there without getting lost.

  “Pretty please,” Gwen says. “With sugar on top?” If her heart hadn’t been completely shattered from losing Lena, there was no way I would do this for her. She drinks too much for someone her size, and one day it’s going to catch up with her.

  “I’m not going to jail for you.”

  “Don’t be such a j
erk.” Gwen tugs on my arm and lifts me from the ground. “Just get two bottles of the pink stuff that tastes like Kool-Aid. Here’s twenty-five dollars. You can keep the change. Come on, you know that old dude never checks your ID.”

  “I’m serious, Queenie.” I point my finger at her chest. “If I end up getting busted for this shit, I’m putting a hex on you, your children, their children, their children’s children.”

  “Yes, yes. We get the fuckin’ picture. You’ll curse my uterus until the end of time. Now get out of here before the store closes.”

  When Arthur and I return from the gas station—unscathed, thank God—Gwen and Morgan are both in their underwear, sitting across from each other, staring into a dark blue basin made of glass or ceramic—I can’t be sure because it’s full of water. A tool for scrying. It’s not mine, and if it’s Gwen’s it must be new, because she’s never mentioned it to me.

  “Olivia’s bowl,” Gwen says, before I can ask, her face a speckled mosaic from the water’s reflection. “Mordy found it in a closet when he was looking for a towel, and you’re just in time because we haven’t started. Come on, put that shit away and join us.”

  The last thing we should be doing on the eve of Litha is playing with Olivia’s fucking scrying bowl, especially since we don’t know what the hell is lurking inside of Morgan, but Gwen will go apeshit if I try to intervene or stop her, and it’s not worth it.

  “Nah, I’m good.” Arthur opens a beer and hands it to me. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you against using someone else’s scrying bowl.”

  “Well, you’re no fun.” Gwen’s tone is mocking but playful. “If I see somethin’ about you, I’m not going to tell you.”

  “Good,” I reply. “I don’t need to know anything about the future.”

  Gwen sticks out her tongue. “Not even if I see a hand-fasting ceremony.” Her eyes dart to Arthur, who has returned to putting away groceries.

  “What’s a hand-fasting ceremony?” Arthur asks. I had hoped he wasn’t listening to my sister’s drunken ramblings.

  “A witch thing,” I say. “Just Google it.” My go-to response anytime he asks something I don’t have the energy—or don’t want—to explain.

  Mordy walks in from outside with a joint. “What kinds of ice cream did you get?” I’m thankful for the interruption. “Something fruity, I hope.” His eyebrow arches and a smile spreads across his face. High as a kite. “Do you want some?”

  Arthur accepts Mordy’s offer to share his smoke, and I walk over to the door leading out to the side deck.

  “Lance,” Arthur says. “Do you want any?”

  I shake my head and push back the light chiffon curtain with my free hand. “No thanks.” I lift the glass bottle in my grip. “This beer is enough.”

  Mordy howls. “That’s because weed makes your lil’ man horny!”

  I choke on my beer and slowly turn my head, only to find Mordy on the floor, about to cackle himself to death.

  Gwen erupts. “Thank you!” She points at me, then at Arthur. “Thank you! I’m glad someone else had the balls to say it!”

  I want to die.

  Meanwhile, Arthur is looking befuddled and very concerned, seated on the couch to my left. Something tells me I’m going to regret having told Mordy some of my secrets on the way to Monticello.

  “I hate you all,” I reply, opening the door. “Every last one of you.”

  Several minutes pass, and when I walk back inside to recycle my beer bottle, Morgan starts shrieking and tearing at her arms like something’s crawling on her skin. Gwen places her palms on Morgan’s shoulders, trying to wrench her out of the trance, or whatever it is she’s experiencing.

  “Help me, Lance!”

  The ceramic bowl smashes into the wall after I send it across the room with my foot, and Gwen locks her arms underneath Morgan’s armpits, dragging her away seconds later. Morgan is still thrashing and yelling at the top of her lungs, demanding someone ‘stop him’. Mordy takes a seat next to his sister and envelops her and Gwen in his arms, the three of them a human chain.

  “Shh,” he whispers. “Recuerda quién eres.” Remember who you are. “Yu nombre es Morgan Lafayette.” Your name is Morgan Lafayette. My Spanish is fairly limited, and I’m by no means fluent in the language, but I took it in high school and college and am able to follow their conversations somewhat.

  Mordy rocks the two women in his arms for several minutes, until Morgan finally goes limp in Gwen’s arms and collapses onto the floor. Not only do we need to find out what Emmett Crabtree is up to, we have to find a way to rid Morgan of whatever this is.

  Arthur is fast asleep on the couch, and somehow slept through the entire episode. I wish I could do that.

  “How long has this been happening?” I ask.

  Mordy bends down and takes his sister into his arms. “Since she was a baby. The doctors diagnosed her with colic, but my grandfather knew better. We’ve tried everything—exorcisms, baptisms and dark shit like animal sacrifices, but nothing works. I even had to stop Morgan from killing herself once.”

  Gwen gets up and goes in search of something to clean the water now covering half of the floor. When she returns, she’s wearing a baggy T-shirt and a pair of shorts, her arms full of paper towels. We don’t talk while we remove pieces of the broken basin from the floor, instead focusing our attention on collecting the scattered shards.

  “You already love them,” she says finally. “Mordy and Morgan.”

  “I do,” I admit. “Give it time, you will too.”

  Then she and I walk out onto the patio. “I wasn’t lying the other day. When I said you had changed. I feel like I barely know you anymore. You’re a completely different person now.”

  I slide my hand around her shoulder. “I love you. That will never change. No matter what happens. You are my sister, and I will love you until my very last sunset.”

  “Me too.” Gwen leans into my embrace. “Morgan’s pretty fucked up, huh?”

  “Yes, completely and totally, I think.”

  “Well, you know it’s a sign from the universe,” she says. “We have to help her. We have to rid her of whatever the fuck is in there.”

  “I know,” I agree. “And soon.”

  * * * *

  The next morning, I wake to Mordy tiptoeing across the floor, doing his best to not agitate Arthur and Gwen, who are still asleep. The couch is too small for two people to share, so I fell asleep on the floor next to Gwen. When she rolls over, her arm moves from my chest and flops onto the wooden surface beneath our bodies, and I get up to join Mordy outside.

  A thick fog fell last night and settled on the lake and fields surrounding the house. When I take a seat next to Mordy, I can see ghostly fingers still playing with the normally steady water.

  “You okay?” I ask. Mordy stretches his arms and cracks his neck. “Morgan still sleeping like a baby?”

  “Oh yeah,” he replies. “If I let her, she’ll sleep for the next sixteen hours.”

  “Damn,” I reply. “That’s crazy.”

  Mordy nods. “Yes, visions like that take a lot out of her. Her body usually requires a few days to recuperate. The whole process is a nightmare.”

  “You’re so good with her.” I nudge him with my shoulder. “You’re such a good brother.”

  Mordy doesn’t respond to my comment, his eyes following the movement of the lake.

  “Arthur is really cool. So is Gwen. They’re both like you. Honest and genuinely themselves.”

  We haven’t spoken about Arthur since our drive to Monticello, and I had been worried that Mordy wouldn’t like him, given his attraction to me. “Yeah,” I say. “They are amazing people.”

  “You know, when Morgan first told me about Gwen’s get-together, I didn’t want to go. I had a feeling that we were walking into some redneck barn party, and I was prepared to throw down if needed.” I laugh, and his eyes dart from the lake to me. “But then I met you, and realized I was being a judgmental jerk. Look, I�
��m not going to sit here and lie to you and say that my feelings for you have changed, Lance.”

  “I’m sorry,” I reply, taking his hand. “If things were—”

  “Don’t you dare say ‘different’, because you know as well as I do,” he says, “things have never been different. That man sleeping in there has been, and will continue to be, the center of your universe. We can’t change the course of things, not this course.”

  “Why do I get the feeling we’ve had this conversation before?”

  “Fuck, Lance, have you met you? You’ve probably had this exact conversation with hundreds of men over the course of a thousand years. I swear, Arthur had better treat you right.” Mordy lets go of my hand and touches the side of my cheek. “You think you’re not good enough for him or some shit, and that’s absolutely, completely false.” He kisses my jaw, his lips lingering. “It would never work between the both of us anyway, because I don’t do long-term relationships. Or at least that’s what I’m going to tell myself for the next month—whatever I need to tell myself to make it through this shit.”

  My heart is broken by everything Mordy’s just said, and I don’t know what I should say or do, so when he gets up and leaves me on the porch I don’t follow or call out to him. We both need time to process everything that just happened.

  A few minutes later Arthur opens the door, alerting me to his presence, and steps out onto the creaky wooden floor.

  “Hey,” I say. “Mornin’.” When he doesn’t respond, I look up at him and watch him descend the side stairs. “Hello, Earth to Arthur. Are you sleepwalking?”

  “I’m just going to come out and say it, because we both know I’m a big baby and that I don’t know how to keep anything to myself. And I don’t want to make a big deal out of nothin’.”

  I get up from the floor. “What do you mean? What are you talkin’ about?”

  “I guess I’m just trying to figure out why you and Mordy were out here holdin’ hands, and why he kissed you. Is he into you, or am I missing something?”