“Arthur,” she rapped him on the back of his hand with a nearby TV Guide. “Arthur—what is going on?”
He made a choking noise that sounded like “merrr.”
“What?” Morgan thought for a minute. “Are you trying to say “Merlin?” Stunned, she looked back at the screen. The man sitting next to Morgan Fairchild looked like he was in his late sixties or thereabouts, with long white hair pulled back in a ponytail and a slightly straggly white beard. He had piercing gray eyes and a beaky nose, but other than that he didn’t look all that impressive. The Bermuda shorts he was wearing certainly didn’t bear any resemblance to a wizard’s robes. He couldn’t possibly be the infamous Merlin. Could he?
“Arthur. Arthur.” She tried to get his attention, but his eyes were glued to the television. “Arthur, talk to me! Tell me you don’t think that guy with Morgan Fairchild is Merlin.”
The king finally found his voice, although it sounded strained and lower than usual. “Morgan, it is he. I swear to it, on my sword and my honor. His clothing is strange, I admit, and he has trimmed his beard since I have seen him last. But of a certainty, that is my lost wizard. I would know him anywhere.” He reached out and gripped her hand. “I can hardly believe it, but it would seem that your Granny’s magic worked. We have found Merlin.”
Morgan gazed at the television without blinking, afraid that if she moved her eyes from the scene in front of her it would somehow disappear. Out of the corner of her vision, she had the impression Arthur was doing the same thing. She gripped his hand back, feeling calluses against her palm.
“Are you sure that’s him?” she asked again, less because she didn’t believe it than because she had to say something and for the moment, that was all that came to mind. “He doesn’t look very um, wizardy.”
“It is those strange short pants,” Arthur insisted. “In his robes, he can be quite impressive indeed.” He let out a deep breath. “I cannot believe we have found him at last.”
Morgan shook her head in bemused agreement. “What can I say? My Granny is one hell of a witch. I can’t believe the old woman pulled it off.” She looked at the television, where Morgan Fairchild poured tea from a steaming oriental kettle into three tiny handle-less mugs and handed one to Merlin. The actress looked poised and comfortable, smiling and oozing charm at the show’s host. Both men smiled helplessly back as she let out a silvery laugh at something someone said.
“I’ll say one thing for that woman,” Morgan said with admiration. “She looks amazing for her age, whatever it is. I don’t know how much of it is make-up and the magic of the camera, but I hope I look half that good when I get old.”
Arthur tore his eyes away from the screen for a moment, long enough to look into Morgan’s eyes. “I have no doubt that you will look beautiful no matter what age you are, Morgan.”
“Um, thanks, Arthur,” Morgan said, a bit taken aback. He hardly ever said anything even remotely complimentary to her, and now he comes out with this? He must be in shock from their discovery of the wizard. She dropped his hand, suddenly realizing it was still clasped in hers.
Looking back at the couple drinking tea in Morgan Fairchild’s elegant living room, he asked, “How do you suppose that Merlin came to be with this woman? Is she a witch as well?”
Morgan pondered the question for a minute, scratching her nose as if the action would make her brain work better. (It didn’t.)
“Not that I know of,” she replied. “I’ve never heard any rumors to that effect, anyway, although I suppose it could be possible…” Her voice trailed off as a thought hit her. “Actually, the explanation might be a lot simpler.”
“Oh?” Arthur said, his voice implying doubt that anything about the situation could be described as simple. “What are you suggesting?”
Morgan shrugged. “Well, remember how we went around town looking for someone who had a name similar to mine, thinking that maybe the box with Merlin inside it got delivered to the wrong person accidentally?”
“Yes,” he answered. “But what does that have to do with this?” He gestured at the screen with one large hand, turning the popcorn bowl over in the process. ET appeared as if by magic and started gobbling down the buttery morsels. Morgan just sighed. Men.
“The woman with Merlin is named Morgan Fairchild,” she explained. “That’s pretty close to Morgan Fairfax. I don’t know how on earth the box ended up in California instead of New York, but I’ve had packages wind up further off course than that, so I guess it makes a kind of sense.”
Arthur scrunched up his forehead as he thought, idly picking up stray pieces of popcorn off of the couch and eating them. “Well, now that we have found him, what do we do next?”
“Hmm. That’s a good question,” Morgan answered. “It’s not like I can just look up Morgan Fairchild in the phone book, call her up and ask to speak to Merlin, please.” She tapped one slender finger against the tip of her chin as she pondered the problem.
Who did she know who might possibly be able to connect her with a famous star? It wasn’t as if she had a lot of contacts in Hollywood, after all. Wait—that was it! Hollywood!
“I’ve got it!” she shouted, startling both Arthur and ET into dropping their popcorn. “I’ll call Michael! After all, he’s out there, on the spot, as it were. And he’s making a movie with a bunch of um…less famous than they used to be… stars. One of them is bound to know Morgan Fairchild. It’s really a pretty small town, from what he’s said. Everyone knows everyone else, once they’ve been around for a few years.”
She bounced up and down on the couch in her excitement, scattering the few pieces of popcorn that hadn’t landed on the floor. This was great. Michael would find a way for them to get in touch with Morgan Fairchild, they’d go pick up Merlin, bring him back here and then—
Her excitement waned when she followed that thought to its natural conclusion. Once they got Merlin back, he would send Arthur home where he belonged. And yes, maybe Merlin would stick around and help fix all those problems she had summoned him here to deal with, and hopefully keep Fay from creating more…but somehow that didn’t seem as important as it used to.
She gazed over at Arthur, stunned by the strength of her unhappiness at the thought of not having him around. After all, she’d been wanting to get rid of him since the day he showed up. He drove her crazy, didn’t he? The oaf, she muttered to herself, her heart not really in it. What woman in her right mind would want this arrogant Neanderthal?
“Morgan?” Arthur said again, and she realized he’d been trying to get her attention while her thoughts went around in confusing circles. “Morgan, what about Fay?”
“Huh?” Morgan answered intelligently. “What about her?”
“I said,” Arthur said, clearly not for the first time, “what if Fay has seen this, too? Or somehow can sense the magic you did tonight? Is she not where Michael is now? Could she not also speak to someone who knows this other Morgan?” His voice filled with concern for his friend and mentor. “What if she gets to Merlin before we do?”
Morgan thought about that for a moment. Obviously, it would be a disaster. If Fay found Merlin, she’d undoubtedly sneak up on the poor unsuspecting wizard—who probably didn’t even know she was alive in this time—and do whatever it took to capture him. And once she had Merlin, Arthur would turn himself over to the wretched sorceress in exchange for his friend. Morgan had no doubt about that much; Arthur was the very personification of honor and duty. The big lug.
She squared her shoulders. Not on her watch, he wouldn’t. She might not be as powerful or as sneaky as Fay LeBeau, but she had Granny and the other coven members on her side. And she had Michael in California, where he could try and find a way to contact Morgan Fairchild while still keeping a watchful eye on Fay.
Not only that, but it suddenly occurred to Morgan that there was one more secret weapon in her arsenal. One of Fay’s own tools, which might just be used against her in some way, if only Morgan could figure out how to turn
the situation to her advantage. This was going to require some serious thought. And a new bowl of popcorn.
Chapter Twenty-Two
That evening, the coven met in Morgan’s kitchen for a tactical planning session. Arthur and Granny sat at either end of the table, with Morgan next to the king (and ET at her feet as far away from Granny and Young Angus as possible) and Michael on speakerphone. He only had a few minutes to spare before he had to go back to film his next scene, so Morgan summed up the situation for everyone before they got down to business.
“Okay, so we know that Merlin is with Morgan Fairchild and that he seems to be safe for the moment. But we need to find out where they are and get to Merlin before Fay does. And we only have a few days left before the week she gave me is up and she comes looking for Arthur anyway.”
She spoke a little louder for the sake of the speakerphone propped up in the middle of the table. “Michael, have you been able to get any information on the other Morgan?”
“Hi, everyone,” Michael said, his cheerful voice sounding as if he was right in the room with them. Morgan felt a pang; she’d really missed her best friend and confidant. Still, hopefully he’d be able to help, and if all went well, she’d see him soon.
“I’ve got good news and I’ve got bad news,” he said with his usual dramatic flair. “Which do you want first?”
“I don’t want any bad news at all,” Morgan muttered under her breath. More loudly, she said, “Why don’t you start with the good news? I know I could use some.” Heads nodded around the table and Young Angus added a heart-felt “woof.”
“Okey dokey,” Michael said. “The good news is that I found one of the make-up artists who knows Morgan Fairchild and thinks he can get me into the house to talk to her and Merlin. Apparently they’ve worked on several movies together and she really likes the guy. So I should be able to see Merlin sometime in the next couple of days and explain the situation to him.”
A babble of excited comments broke out around the table as everyone felt the relief of hearing that the search for Merlin was finally coming to an end. They’d all worked hard to help Arthur and none of them had wanted their task to end in failure.
Morgan held up her hand for silence. “That’s great, Michael. Good work. Now, what’s the bad news?”
There was a pause on the other end of the line. “I think Fay knows something’s up,” he said.
Everyone shut up, and Arthur scowled at the speakerphone as if it had personally offended him.
“On what do you base this assumption?” he asked Michael. “Did the sorceress say something about Merlin to you?” He clenched one large fist on the table and reached for his missing sword with the other.
“No, Sire, not exactly,” Michael responded. “But she was all excited about something last night, and today she’s been on the phone a lot. And I caught her snooping around my trailer earlier.”
Granny tugged on the knitting needle currently holding her white hair up in an untidy bun. “Do ye think she knows where Merlin is already, or just that we’re on his trail?” she asked Michael, yelling at the speakerphone as if her voice needed to carry across the country.
Michael stopped to ponder that for a moment and they could hear muted noises in the background, followed by the sound of a second voice.
“Sorry about that,” Michael said a second later. “They need me back on set, so I’ve only got a minute.” He took a deep breath. “My guess is that she doesn’t know anything specific. But she may have picked up on your magical work yesterday. She’s definitely worked up about something. I’ll try to keep an eye on her, but I’d watch your backs if I were you.”
“And you watch yours,” Davis said with concern. “You don’t want to lead her to Morgan Fairchild’s doorstep, after all.”
“Good point,” added Morgan. “Maybe you should stay away from the other Morgan’s house and see if your pal can get a message through to Merlin some other way. The last thing we want to do is give Fay a way to get to Merlin before we do.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Michael said. “And I’ll be careful. But I think you should consider coming out here and handling this yourself. Well, you and Arthur. After all, Merlin doesn’t know me and has no reason to trust me. He might not listen to anyone but Arthur.”
Morgan looked at Arthur with doubt in her eyes. He’d done pretty well adjusting to the 21st century, but she thought a plane ride might just push him past his limits. Besides, then they’d be going into Fay’s territory, which would make them that much more vulnerable.
“Well,” she said dubiously, “we’ll talk about that option. But I think it would be a lot better if you can just find a way to convince Merlin to come here.”
“I’m an actor,” Michael said, “not James Bond. But I’ll do the best I can.” They could hear rustling sounds as he prepared to go back to work. “Gotta go. Great talking to you guys. Miss ya, love ya, bye!” And he was gone.
Morgan slowly reached out a hand to turn off the speakerphone. “So. We’re closer to finding Merlin. That’s good, right?” She looked around the table at her motley company and saw her concern reflected on all their faces. Except maybe for Arthur, who merely looked determined, his strong chin jutting into the air.
“Michael will do what he can,” the king said. “If he cannot succeed on his own, then we will go to this California and I will speak to Merlin myself.” The way he said it, even Morgan didn’t bother to argue. She’d cross that bridge when she got to it.
“So, Morgan,” piped up Charlotte, her fingers idly folding a napkin into complicated origami, “didn’t you say you had an idea about a secret weapon, or something like that?”
“Yeah,” her sister chimed in, “now would be a good time to share, if you actually have an idea.” She sounded discouraged. “Any idea.”
“Well, I did have one thought,” Morgan said, trying not to get them too excited. It was only a theory, after all.
“Any thought at all is an impressive feat for some,” Arthur teased. Morgan kicked him under the table.
“Spill it, kiddo,” Davis said.
“Fine,” said Morgan. “It’s not much. But it did occur to me that we have one advantage over Fay.”
“Only one?” Arthur said. “I would have said we have at least three or four.”
Morgan rolled her eyes. “Great. Then one more than we thought we had.”
“Let her talk,” Granny scolded. “I for one would be happy to hear of any ideas, since I’ve got none of me own at the moment.” She took the knitting needle out of her bun and shook it threateningly in Arthur’s direction before jabbing it back into her hair. Arthur laughed, despite the seriousness of the discussion; no doubt Granny’s intention.
Morgan scooted her chair closer to the table and propped her chin on her elbows. “I realized last night that we have something of an ace in the hole,” she said.
“Really?” Lewis looked doubtful. “What is it?”
“Mortimer.” Morgan said. “Mortimer the SUV salesman to the stars is our secret weapon.”
“WHAT?” It was hard to tell which one of the coven members spoke the loudest and even Arthur was looking at her doubtfully.
“How is that little weasel our ace in the hole?” Charlotte asked. “Isn’t he Fay’s secret weapon, not ours?”
“Ah,” said Arthur as he figured it out. “Very clever, Morgan.”
She tried not to beam at his praise, but it did feel good to have him approve of her for a change.
“What’s clever?” Clarice asked, a plaintive tone to her voice. “I don’t get it.”
“Mortimer was only a useful tool for Fay as long as we did not suspect his presence among us,” Arthur explained. “But since we are aware of his identity and know that he is acting as a spy, we may be able to turn that knowledge to our advantage.”
“How?” asked Davis. “Do we feed him misinformation, so Fay is put off the scent?”
“We can do that,” Morgan said. “Or if n
ecessary, we can be more proactive.”
“More proactive?” Lewis repeated, scratching his head in puzzlement. “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” said Morgan, “that if we have to, we can kidnap Mortimer, or Mordred, or whatever his name is, and use him to force Fay to leave Merlin alone.”
There were gasps around the table as the coven members digested Morgan’s fierce pronouncement.
After a moment, Charlotte asked timidly, “Do you really think that would work?”
Morgan looked at Arthur and he shrugged. “Let us hope we never have to find out,” he said finally. “But it is good to be clear on all the options at your disposal when going into battle.”
“Battle?” Clarice squeaked.
Arthur nodded sternly. “The moment that woman threatened my wizard, we were at war. Now it is simply a matter of seeing who comes out the winner.”
The phone woke Morgan out of a dream featuring a large red-haired man, several yards of white satin ribbon and an elaborate game of hide and seek. Her heart was racing, and her mind was filled with torrid, strangely erotic images. She tried not to worry about what it all meant as she fumbled for the receiver, still half asleep and wondering who would call her at three AM. But Michael’s urgent whisper on the other end of the line brought her back to consciousness immediately.
“Morgan,” he said hoarsely, “can you hear me?” It sounded like he was calling from the other side of the moon, instead of the other side of the country.
“Michael, is that you?” Morgan tried to clear her head. “What’s the matter? Why are you calling so late? And why are you whispering?” She sat up on the futon, the comforter slithering off of her shoulders and onto the floor.
If anything, his voice got lower. “I can’t talk for long,” he whispered, “Fay is right in the other room. But I had to warn you—“
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