King Me!

by Deborah Blake

  Crystal put a proprietary hand on the strange man’s arm and led him over to where Arthur, Morgan, and Granny were sitting. Arthur rose politely and was surprised to find that he was only an inch or two taller than the stranger, although considerably more muscular. The man’s blond hair and obvious good looks made him and Crystal a pretty pair, but there was something shifty around the eyes that put Arthur on his guard.

  Still, he scolded himself; it was foolish to take such a dislike to the man when he hadn’t uttered so much as a word. It was probably just Granny’s predictions of treachery, making him overly suspicious. He resolved to be pleasant, no matter what.

  Crystal gave a brilliant smile and made the introductions, still hanging onto the man’s arm.

  “Um, Morgan, Arthur, Granny, this is Mortimer, my new boyfriend.” She blushed becomingly. “We only just started dating this afternoon, but it seems like we’ve been together forever.”

  Arthur watched a scowl spread across Morgan’s beautiful face.

  “How nice,” she said insincerely, crossing her arms. “And what made you decide to bring him to meet us tonight?” Morgan tilted her head in pointedly in Arthur’s direction. “I thought we were going to keep this evening’s get-together just between us.”

  Crystal started to speak but her new friend got there first. “Not to worry,” he said smoothly, “Crystal told me you had some big hush, hush meeting tonight. I promise not to stick around and get in the way.” He thrust out his hand toward Arthur. “Glad to meet you. Mortimer Prince, SUV salesman to the stars. In town from LA to meet with some of your charming local automobile dealers.”

  Baffled, Arthur gazed at the man. What was he talking about, selling things to the stars? Was the man some kind of soothsayer? Reluctantly, he grasped the other man’s hand, trying not to wince noticeably at the flabby, boneless handshake.

  “Um, Arthur,” he said shortly. Morgan had told him it would be best not to spread the news of his return just yet, at least until they had Merlin back. “A pleasure,” he lied.

  Mortimer turned to Morgan and gave her an oily smile. “Hello there, you must be Morgan, leader of this merry band of Witches. Glad to meet you. Mortimer Prince, SUV salesman to the stars.”

  Arthur watched Morgan set her jaw and try to be polite. She looked quite attractive with those flushed cheeks and flashing eyes. Also quite angry, but neither Crystal nor her new boyfriend seemed to notice.

  “Charmed,” she muttered through gritted teeth. “Although of I course I think SUV’s are a blight on the landscape and should be outlawed.”

  Crystal tittered and turned pink. “She’s kidding, Sweetie,” she said. “Always cracking wise, our Morgan.” She cast a pleading look in Arthur’s direction. As if he could make Morgan behave. Zounds, he was a king, not a miracle worker. And somehow he doubted even Merlin could make Morgan do anything she didn’t want to do.

  Nonetheless, he made a game attempt to defuse the tension. “So,” he said, tones mild in an effort to offset Morgan’s obvious irritation, “How did the two of you meet?”

  Crystal blushed again. “Actually, Mortimer came riding to my rescue. He’s my knight in shining armor.” She looked up at Mortimer and gave him an infatuated smile.

  Arthur found himself grinding his teeth again and forced his muscles to relax. He had known many a knight, in armor both shining and rusting, and somehow he didn’t see this essuvee person in their company. He could see that Morgan shared his doubts; probably the first thing they’d ever agreed upon.

  “What did he do,” she asked Crystal sweetly, “fight a dragon for you in downtown Albany?”

  Crystal pouted. “Don’t be mean, Morgan.” She hugged Mortimer and he patted her hand absently, his attention focused on Morgan and Arthur. “I went for an early lunch and when I came out of the restaurant my car had two flat tires. I was just about to call a tow truck when Mortimer came along. He insisted on calling a company he knew, and after they fixed the tires he wouldn’t even let me pay for it! And we went for coffee while the tires were being repaired.” She grinned at Arthur and Morgan gleefully. “We’ve been together ever since!”

  Morgan made a point of looking at her watch. Arthur got the message, even if the effervescent Crystal didn’t. It was only dinner time, after all, so even if Mortimer had been by her side since right after lunch, they could only have been together for four or five hours. But Crystal was acting as if they’d been together for weeks. What was wrong with the girl? Could Crystal be their spy? She was certainly acting strangely enough. But she was Morgan’s friend and confidant, was she not?

  It was obvious Morgan was asking herself the same question. She looked at her friend with frustrated bewilderment, a feeling Arthur shared. Granny and the other coven members all gathered around and chatted with the happy couple. No one seemed to notice anything suspicious except him and Morgan, and possibly Young Angus, who almost took off two of Mortimer’s fingers when he attempted to pet the dog. On the other hand, with the exception of Arthur and Granny herself, the animal apparently reacted to everyone that way.

  Arthur found himself in the corner with Morgan, looking on as the coven members made much of Crystal and her new boyfriend and shared updates from their lives with Granny. He could hear Morgan muttering to herself in annoyance.

  “What did you say?” he asked.

  She flung her dark hair over one shoulder and looked at Crystal in disgust. “I said, I don’t understand why she would bring him here tonight, no matter how excited she is about meeting a new guy. Crystal gets excited about every man she’s interested in, but I’ve never seen her act this infatuated, this fast.”

  Morgan frowned at the man in question. “There’s something about that guy I just don’t trust. He’s too smooth, even for a car salesman.”

  Arthur nodded his head, forgetting that he and Morgan never agreed on anything. Well, hardly ever. “He does have a bit of the weasel about him, that one. I trust him not at all, although I cannot tell you why.” He frowned. “I swear, he reminds me mightily of my old adversary Mordred, but he looks not a bit like the man. Mordred was dark and slim, and had not the height of this Mortimer.”

  The Witch scowled. “Well, it’s an interesting coincidence that Crystal’s car just happened to have two flat tires and this Mortimer guy just happened to come along and rescue her.”

  “Are flat tires unusual?” Arthur asked interestedly. He clearly still had much to learn about these cars and how they worked. Give him a nice horse, any day.

  “Not really,” Morgan replied. “But two at a time are.” She tapped a painted fingernail against her teeth thoughtfully. “It would be like a horse throwing two shoes at the same time.”

  “Hmph. That would be out of the ordinary.” Arthur thought about it. “Are you saying that you think this Mortimer fellow somehow arranged for Crystal’s tires to become flat so that he might come to her aid?” He scowled again at the thought of someone taking advantage of the little blonde’s innocent good nature, and clenched his hand around his non-existent sword. Damnation. He was going to have to find a weapon somewhere. This was too treacherous a world to go about unarmed.

  He glanced across the room at Mortimer, whose arm was draped possessively around Crystal’s shoulders while he oozed oily charm in Granny’s direction. Arthur made a fist and then opened it with a force of will. After all, he had no proof the man was up to no good. Perhaps it was truly love at first sight. Though, verily, he doubted it.

  He and Morgan exchanged grim looks. Morgan might tease her coven mate, but she would never stand for anyone hurting her friend. If this Mortimer turned out to be Granny’s hypothetical spy, Arthur intended to take great pleasure in beating him to a pulp with his bare hands. And from the look on her face, he suspected Morgan might actually let him.

  Chapter Eleven

  Morgan sat at the kitchen table and absently swirled the dregs of her cold tea around in her cup, the taste bitter on her tongue. Too bad she couldn’t read tea leaves
like her Granny. If she could, maybe she’d be able to see why Crystal had been acting so giddy all night. The girl had flirted with Arthur for days, then suddenly lost interest and gone gaga over some slimy salesman. Even for Crystal, this was strange behavior.

  She took a sip and made a face at the cold liquid. She’d been sitting there quite a while, trying to make sense of things. They’d accomplished nothing, although all the coven members had shown up to help with the search. Despite his promise to leave them to their “hush, hush” meeting, that damned Mortimer had stuck around the entire evening, sucking up to Crystal and ingratiating himself with her friends.

  In fact, he and Crystal had been the last to leave, well after ten. He’d smiled his smarmy shark’s grin at them and promised to get Crystal safely home to bed. Morgan hadn’t dared to ask if he’d be in it. She was pretty sure she didn’t want to know the answer. If that Mortimer did anything to harm Crystal…

  “Stop grinding your teeth, lass,” a quiet voice said from behind her. “You’ll wear them down to nubs.”

  Morgan’s cup clattered onto the table, spilling the last of the tea. Drat that old woman, sneaking up on her. You’d think someone that old would creak more. She pushed her chair back and got up to fetch a cup of tea for her grandmother. (And a rag to clean up the mess.)

  The darkened kitchen, lit only by the dim light over the stove, reminded her of late night snacks in her Granny’s kitchen in Scotland when she was a girl. She’d gone to visit most summers, sometimes with her parents and sometimes alone. She and Granny had shared many a cookie and a cup of tea by candlelight, long after everyone else had gone to bed.

  Apparently Granny had the same thought. She smiled up at Morgan as she accepted the cup and patted her fondly on the arm. “Ach, this brings back memories, so it does,” she said to Morgan. “Just ye and me, having a wee chat over a cup of tea and a bite of something sweet.”

  She looked pointedly at the cookie jar, and Morgan quickly placed a pile of double chocolate chip cookies on a plate for her. The crumbs of their predecessors decorated the front of Morgan’s pajamas, and she brushed them away as she returned to her seat.

  “So,” Granny continued, “is it that ye canna sleep, or did ye just have a hankering to sit in the dark and watch your tea cool?”

  Morgan sighed. “I’m worried about Crystal, Granny. There’s just something wrong about this guy she brought home. And she wasn’t acting like herself.”

  “Well, she wouldn’t, now, would she?” Granny replied calmly, helping herself to another cookie. “What with being under a spell, and all.”

  “What!” Morgan sat bolt upright and stared at her grandmother. “She’s under a spell?”

  The old woman frowned disapprovingly. “Ye dinna see it?” She reached out and rapped Morgan’s knuckles with a spoon. “Ye have to pay more attention, dear. If it had been any more obvious, the man would have had a leash around her neck.”

  She clucked her tongue and went on. “It’s just an infatuation spell. Oldest trick in the book.” Granny looked pensively at Morgan. “In fact, if I don’t miss my guess, it is a very old spell. Why would someone use one like that when there are so many newer, more efficient spells around?”

  “It looked pretty efficient to me,” Morgan said despondently. “Crystal is acting like she’s head over heels in love. She didn’t leave the guy’s side all night.”

  Granny shook her head in disagreement. “Nay, lass, it’s more like he didn’t leave her side all night.” She took a noisy slurp of her tea. “That’s what I mean about the spell not being efficient. For that type of spell to work, the one who cast it has to remain with his or her victim at all times. Very awkward. Strictly old school.”

  Morgan tried to make her tired brain think. Who would use an old spell instead of a new one? And why would anyone want to make Crystal fall in love with that weasel Mortimer?

  “Fay LeBeau!” she cried.

  “Fay? Where?” Arthur said from the doorway. He came into the room at a run, a pewter candlestick held out in front of him like a weapon. Granny snickered around her third cookie.

  Morgan looked away from Arthur and tried not to laugh. At least she knew he’d be there to save her, if she actually needed saving.

  “It’s okay,” she said, choking down a chuckle at the sight of Arthur in his underwear. On second thought, it was a pretty impressive spectacle. Maybe she should applaud instead. “She’s not here. We were just talking about who might have cast a spell on Crystal.”

  “Ah,” he said, understanding. “Mortimer. That explains a great deal.”

  “It does and it doesn’t,” Morgan answered him. “Fay LeBeau might stick with a spell she’s used many times before, especially if it worked for her. But if she’s the one behind this, why would she want Crystal to be infatuated with Mortimer?” She turned to her grandmother. “Could Mortimer somehow be Fay in a magical disguise?”

  Granny pondered this as Arthur helped himself to a cup of tea and joined them at the table. Morgan couldn’t help but think how cozy it felt, just the three of them discussing a problem together. She tried to focus on Granny’s answer instead of Arthur’s strong, muscular legs, stretched out next to hers under the table.

  “Nae, it can’t be Fay,” Granny replied. “No disguise is that good. But I did sense some sort of glamour around the man, one that seemed to be affecting the other members of the coven as well, so perhaps Fay sent someone in to spy for her…someone that you or Arthur would recognize if he wore his true form.”

  “Mordred!” Arthur growled through clenched jaws. “I should have known! I knew there was something familiar about that man.” He pounded his fist on the table, making the teacups bounce. “I shall go to Crystal’s home and beat the truth out of him!”

  Granny placed a calming hand on top of his. “Now lad, let’s think this through.” She ran her fingers though her flyaway white hair and idly twined a piece around her forefinger. Across the table, Morgan mimicked her unconsciously, a habit she’d picked up in her youth.

  “What is there to think about?” Arthur roared. “She dared send that little worm to spy on us? I will teach the craven weasel to creep around my friends—”

  “That’s just it,” Morgan said, catching on. “If we know who he is and what he’s up to, we can let him sneak around all he wants. Fay will think she’s got a spy, but we can talk to everyone else and make sure no one tells him anything.”

  A fist seemed to tighten around Morgan’s heart. “But Granny, what about Crystal?”

  “Aye, there’s the quandary,” her grandmother responded, a sad look melting the soft wrinkles on her face. “If you break the spell, then Mortimer and Fay will know that you have discovered their secret. But if you dinna break it, you canna tell poor Crystal that her man is an imposter. ‘Tis a hard choice, for sure. But you know Crystal best of anyone; what would she want you to do?”

  Morgan didn’t like leaving her friend under the influence of magic against her will. But Crystal was happy for the moment, believing herself in love. And Morgan knew that Crystal would want to do whatever was best for Arthur’s safety, no matter the cost to herself—it was her nature to care for others with a fierce and steadfast loyalty.

  She watched Arthur struggle to collect himself, and turn from outraged man to cunning ruler. He must have been something to see, back in his own time, she thought wistfully.

  “Yes, I see,” he said slowly. “As long as Fay believes her scheme is undiscovered, she will not send someone else, someone we might not realize is a spy. We will simply need to guard our tongues when the little weasel is around.”

  Morgan nodded in agreement. “Well, Granny, it looks like you were right. We did have a traitor in our midst. But thanks to you, at least we are safe now.”

  Granny looked from Morgan to Arthur and back again. Then she silently shook her white head.

  “What?” Morgan cried in disbelief. “Mortimer isn’t our traitor? But you said yourself that he’s a spy!�
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  The old woman’s face was shadowed with regret. “I’m sorry, dear, but he is not the one I saw in my vision. I dinna see his face, but one thing was quite clear: the traitor I saw was one of your own, not a stranger.”

  Morgan sat behind the cash register at her shop the next afternoon and tried not to give in to depression. Or to the bag of chocolate Kisses she theoretically put out to entice her customers but more often than not ended up eating herself.

  After all, Granny could be wrong about the traitor being a member of her coven. There had been that time when the old woman had been sure she’d had a vision about the end of the world, but it turned out to be a combination of too much venison stew and her favorite soap opera going off the air. Morgan refused to believe that any of her friends would betray her or Arthur.

  And, no, they hadn’t made any progress in finding Merlin, but he had to show up sooner or later, didn’t he? The Internet was a big place to search, but an ancient wizard in a wooden box had to receive a certain amount of notice eventually, right?

  She sighed and popped another piece of chocolate into her mouth, the sweet creaminess no substitute to solid answers to her many questions.

  The cheery sound of the bell over the front door jarred her out of her gloomy thoughts. She quickly swallowed the last of her candy and tried to figure out if she had chocolate on her teeth before she smiled encouragingly at her customer. Or not, since her visitor turned out to be Michael, bounding into the store with his usual zeal.

  “Oh, it’s just you,” Morgan said, holding out the bowl of Kisses. Michael had almost as bad a sweet tooth as she did.

  He grabbed a handful and gave her a mock scowl. “You have got to stop saying that. I’m going to get a complex.”

  Morgan apologized. “Sorry. I’m just in a bad mood, I guess.”

  “Worried that if we can’t find Merlin you’ll be stuck with Arthur forever?” he asked cattily. “Or worried we will find Merlin, and you won’t be stuck with Arthur forever?”