Guinevere Forever (Lost Camelot Book 1)

by M. L. Bullock

  “Hey! You’re going to be late. Come on, I’ve got coffee ready.” My gnomish friend Buddy was stirring in my tiny kitchen, and I detected the smell of coffee brewing. I sat up on the couch and rubbed my head, wondering where I was and why the hell I had drunk so much the night before. My mouth felt dry and my heart heavy, and then I remembered. Markie!

  “Hey! What’s going on? Any word?” I rubbed my eyes and tried to get up but decided I needed to take things slow for a minute or two.

  “He pulled through the night, and it’s looking like he’s going to do just fine. That’s one tough kid.” Buddy walked into the living room holding two cups of coffee. I accepted one and stared into the dark brew with swollen eyes.

  I breathed a sigh of relief. “Well, that’s good to hear. I don’t know how that’s possible, but I’m not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. The kid took a pounding.” What a punishing hangover!

  Buddy nodded his head in agreement, his eyes wide as he sipped from the chipped mug. “You ready for today? I have no doubt it will be a long one for you.”

  “I’m sure I’ll have a lot to answer for when I get to work. McAllister is going to give me hell. I should have used the robot.”

  “Hindsight is twenty-twenty, Ryan. But you know I have your back. The whole crew does. This isn’t something we can’t overcome.” I took another sip of the scalding liquid. “You want some breakfast? Or is that pushing things?” Buddy grinned at me. “You really tied one on last night.”

  Then I remembered he had left me high and dry. “Where did you disappear to? One minute you were there, and the next you were gone. Did I out-drink you?”

  Buddy’s smile vanished, and he said, “The place was getting too crowded. You know I don’t like crowds.” He was a private guy, and I didn’t really know much about him other than the few details he offered in passing. Strange thing was, I felt as if I had known him for longer than I actually had. I took him at face value, just as he did me, and we worked well together. He had no family, kind of like me, and over the years of working at three different mines together, we sort of adopted one another. He was the closest thing I had to family.

  “Just a minute, are you saying that you couldn’t hang with the young dog?” My feeble attempt at pretending to be jovial didn’t really lighten the mood, but I had to give it a shot.

  Buddy raised his furry eyebrows and narrowed his dark brown eyes. “I admit nothing; I just had some business to attend to.” That pretty much meant he didn’t want to talk about it, and I was too tired and hung over to push him. Whatever it was, he would tell me about it eventually.

  “Let’s get going, Ryan. Quarter till eight now, and I’m sure Wayne is gonna want to see you first thing. You’ll have reports to fill out. About a thousand, I suspect.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure.” I slugged down as much of the hot coffee as I could stomach, spent a few minutes tidying up in the bathroom, changed into a clean shirt, grabbed my gear and walked out with Buddy. We took his old rust bucket of a van to the Cavanaugh Mine, which was about a half mile past the Questing Beast. The mine sat up the ridge, and behind it were the Perilous Mountains. I had no idea who named them that, but the moniker was appropriate. More than one group of hikers had gone missing from up in that area. I groaned when I saw the many OSHA vehicles in the parking lot.

  “Damn,” I muttered to myself. I knew this was going to happen, but the response was quicker than I expected. Buddy put the van in park, set the parking brake and stared at me pitifully.

  “I’m glad it’s you and not me.”

  Sighing in frustration, I answered, “That’s helpful. I wish it was you and not me. Well, I wish none of this had ever happened.”

  “There wasn’t anything you could do about it, Ryan. Sure, you could have waited for the robot, but McAllister wouldn’t have liked that one bit. In fact, I’m pretty sure he would have said no. He doesn’t like bringing in the expensive equipment unless he absolutely has to. In his mind, it wouldn’t have made a difference. Besides, Mark Wheeler wanted to go, and you couldn’t have stopped him even if you wanted to. The accident was an unlucky strike. In this business, you blow things up…and sometimes people get hurt. No amount of preparation and security checks would have prevented this. Trust me, I’ve been digging holes for as long as I can remember, and I’ve seen more than one guy lose a limb or his life. Markie didn’t lose either. He is luckier than most, and he will recover. Don’t let them push you around.”

  “Thanks, counselor,” I muttered as I climbed out of the van and headed to the “grill,” as we sometimes referred to the administration office. I visited the grill about once a week to sign off on those electronic time cards and file any necessary incident reports. Unfortunately, this week there would be a huge one. To my surprise, Buddy followed me inside as I stepped into the shack and faced what looked like a firing squad of unhappy strangers camped out around McAllister’s desk. Wayne McAllister was never in a good mood, and this morning was no exception. But who could blame him? I blew up part of the mine and almost killed one of the miners yesterday. If I was him, I’d fire me.

  “You’re late,” McAllister announced as he shoved around a stack of paperwork and waved me to a grimy chair, the only chair available. He gave Buddy a what the hell are you doing here? look but didn’t order the old man out. I was kind of glad I didn’t argue with him about the time; I was clearly not late, but McAllister had other fish to fry, most notably the OSHA folks who’d heard about yesterday’s mishap. I removed my hat and sat in the chair, waiting for the axe to fall where it may.

  “You know everyone, I think.” I nodded in agreement even though I only knew half the people here. Less than half, actually. No time for reunions, either. I wanted to hear what they all had in mind for me. “I spoke with Mark Wheeler’s father this morning.”

  “Norman?”

  “Yeah. The senior Wheeler plans to sue the mine for what happened to his kid. You should never have let him in there, Ryan. Uncorking that explosive was your responsibility, and you shrugged it. You blinked, and it will cost us all.”

  “That’s bull! Markie begged me to let him go. He’s part of the crew, McAllister. He wanted to earn his chops. I cannot believe Norman would sue the mine. Are you sure? He was there with me, for God’s sake.”

  McAllister looked down his nose at me as I were a bug he’d like to squash, but I continued. “It was an accident, clear and simple. Norman encouraged me to allow Markie in. I know I took a risk that I shouldn’t have taken. I agree it should have been me, but I swear I would never have sent him in there if I had known this was going to happen!”

  McAllister pulled on his tie. He looked like a man who was being strangled by his own suit. He rose to his feet and towered over me, all 6-foot-5 of him. I stood up too—no way was I going to let the guy stand on top of me. “You said it yourself: it should have been you. You had no business allowing a greenhorn to deal with that dud.”

  I shrugged, refusing to be dominated by McAllister and his pack of wolves. “Right! I got it, but the kid wanted to go in. It’s not like he had never been trained on it, like he’d never seen explosives before. Mark Wheeler was Class Three Certified! He wanted to move up. He begged me to give him a shot, so I did.”

  “I don’t care if he got on his hands and knees and kissed your damn feet. He should never have been the one going in. You handle the duds, Ryan. That’s always been the deal, and any mine boss knows it. And for God’s sake, we have a robot…why wasn’t the robot used?”

  “You know why, Wayne. It’s not always easy to get that robot here. It would have taken an act of Parliament to get it approved; you and I both know you wouldn’t have waited. I only did what you expected me to!”

  Some of the suits shifted in their expensive shoes—I’d all but called McAllister out in front of them. They didn’t intervene but listened and cast a wary eye in McAllister’s direction. “That’s bull, and you know it! And here’s another thing, were you using Triton caps?�
�� McAllister tossed a melted yellow stick on the desk. A few of the women on the OSHA team gasped, but they should’ve known the thing was empty. Not even a fool like McAllister would have tossed a stick of dynamite on the desk.

  “I don’t know what that is or where it came from. We always use ammonium nitrate.”

  McAllister’s typically pink face reddened as he glanced around the stuffy room. One man cleared his throat while the woman beside him glared at me. They clearly didn’t believe me, for whatever reason. Or they didn’t want to. “That’s not what Norman Wheeler says. He says this could’ve all been prevented. So he’s suing us, and the mine will shut down during the investigation. God knows how long that will be! You are out, Ryan.” He sat back down, leaned back in his leather chair and blasted an excruciating glower in my direction. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

  Buddy sputtered, “Wait a minute, McAllister! You’re not listening. I was there, and I know what I saw—and I know what I used. Nobody uses old crap like that, and nobody made that kid go in there. He demanded to go, and Ryan gave him a shot.”

  McAllister raised his hand. “Look, Moran, I’m sure there will be plenty of time to have this out in court, but this is how it is for now. You’re off, Ryan. And Moran, you’re on. Or do I need to hire somebody else?”

  Buddy stood with his hands on his hips, looking at me and then at McAllister. “You are doing this guy wrong, Wayne. This isn’t how we do things around here. It was an unpredictable event, a complete accident. That’s why they call them accidents! This was not something anyone could foresee. Mark Wheeler wanted to go into that mine, and into that mine he went.”

  I scrunched my hat in my hands. “No, he’s right, Buddy. It was my responsibility. I knew the risks. I’ll go peacefully, McAllister. Buddy is more than capable to lead the mine.”

  “The guys aren’t going to like this, Ryan,” Buddy complained.

  “Speaking of which, I’m telling you to steer clear of the crew, Ryan. The legal team,” he said, waving to the three suits on the left of his desk, “they want to keep the other miners out of this case as much as they can. If you go chatting with them, it might be believed that you’re asking them to cover for you. So you’ll have to avoid contact with the crew, at least until this thing blows over.”

  “Well, if you’re firing me, I’m pretty sure it’s not going to blow over. I’m done, right? You can’t tell me who I can and can’t talk to.” Beads of sweat popped out on my forehead. The combination of stress and last night’s boozing was wreaking havoc on my body.

  “We sure as hell can if we’re paying for your legal representation,” McAllister snapped back.

  One of the men beside him spoke. “I think we should just start over with a local crew, Mr. McAllister. It is time for a change. Let’s put in people that know this area. No offense to our American miners who are a long way from home on this job, but it is time to get some good union guys in here. It might go a long way toward repairing relationships with the locals.”

  McAllister didn’t answer him, but he did nod once as if to say he’d consider it. “Moran? It’s now or never. What are you going to do?”

  I headed out the door and left them to haggle over it by themselves. I had no ill will toward Buddy, but I did not want to be part of this conversation. I should’ve known I could not leave him behind—he was dogging my heels in seconds.

  I put my hand on his shoulder and said, “You take care of the place, my friend. The crew needs you. I’ll leave peacefully. McAllister knows I’m sorry for what happened to Markie, but I did things by the book. You know I did. I always have. All the same, the accident happened…and I was the guy in charge.” I was fuming, but I was also sorry for what happened to Mark.

  “Where do you think you’re going? I’m not taking that job. No way, no how. McAllister should stick by you, not throw you under the bus. If he would do that to you, I know he’ll do that to me. Where you go, I go too.”

  Some of my crew pulled up, and I was eager to get out of there. McAllister had been right about one thing—I couldn’t put those guys in a worse situation. I waved at them but didn’t slow down despite their calls. It made me sick to leave them wondering what the hell was going on, but what choice did I have? “You gonna give me a lift home?”

  “Yeah, climb in.”

  No, this was wrong. I couldn’t leave these guys in the lurch. I felt like I was abandoning the crew, and I just couldn’t do it. “Stop the van, Buddy. This isn’t right.”

  “Hey, you heard what McAllister said.”

  “I don’t give a damn what he said. I’m talking to my guys.”

  He shook his head and clutched the gearshift forward with a lurch. “Not this time, Ryan. Leave them out of the fight for now. Call them later when you have your head together. Right now, you’re mad, they’ll be mad and none of you are thinking clearly.”

  From the rearview mirror, I watched the crew wave at us to stop. Buddy didn’t waver. He clutched one more time, and we turned the corner and left the Cavanaugh Mine behind.

  It was the worst feeling in the world.

  Chapter Nine—Guinevere

  My increasingly cold skin and the excruciating pain in my abdomen warned me that I dared not postpone my next kill much longer. My sleep had been interrupted multiple times; the cellar had not been a good idea, but at least I had not been discovered. I came home at first dark only to climb into my kistvaen to steal a few more minutes of rest, but I could wait no longer. Climbing from the stone box, I almost doubled over from the ache that soared through my body.

  Arthur, how will I ever help you? I am a murderous heap of blood and bones. I am nothing, my love. Nothing like you remembered me.

  Glancing down at my hands, I could see that I had indeed fasted far too long. My skin sagged slightly, and my normal paleness began to display a subtle shade of blue. I could not avoid feeding tonight; I needed my strength for what lay ahead of me. Feeding must take priority over all else. What good would I be to my husband if I allowed myself to become a withered husk? How would I protect him if I was as weak as a kitten? His handsome face passed through my mind. I remembered him battle-weary and gaunt but always strong. Strange to think that he would need me to protect him when the reverse had always been true. Arthur had been my protector, until he could not be, and then Lancelot had. With purposeful intention, I forced them both from my memory.

  The building beneath me had grown quiet earlier than usual, which told me it must be Friday, the day when most left the Wells building not long after lunch to enjoy mortal frivolities. Normally I would never feed here, but my hunger was palpable and I had allowed myself to waste away. How was I to know how things would change? How easy it would have been to slip away into nothingness and abandon this life, this horrible blood-filled life. I knew now that was what I’d had in mind, but I could not. I had subconsciously decided to starve, but that was before Arthur returned to me. Now I had waited too long.

  Instinctively, my ears searched for sounds of human activity. I quickly found a suitable target.

  Ah, Carlos! I have long waited to meet you!

  At least now I had a choice about whose blood I drank. Those first few nights after Morgan’s curse had been hell. Fleeing from Avalon, I made my way through the water and into the small village of Barton. I did not know what drove me there, but I wasted no time satisfying the blood lust Morgan had awakened in me. And when the gorging was over, when the village had fallen silent, I woke from my feverish rampage horrified at the evidence left on my hands. Morgan’s laughter mocked me as the body of a child slipped from my hands onto the ground with a dull thud. And as those lingering rays of the sun hung on the horizon, threatening to burst across the sky, terror rose within me. As the sky brightened, the fear of it, the absolute revulsion of the light overwhelmed the shame of my blood gorging. I began to scream. My despair was complete.

  And then she was there—Nimue, my merciful rescuer! Her angular face was a mask of calm as she th
rew her voluminous green cloak over my body, shielding me from the sun, and together we fled from the field and into the woods. Once the surge of blood subsided, the horrors of my crimes returned in full force. I heard again the cries for mercy, the muffled whimpering of the people whose lives I had ended that night. Yes, I had done horrible things.

  “Kill me, Nimue! Kill me!” I begged the healer.

  With a sad, distant expression she said, “You will not die, my queen, although you will wish for death many times.” Feeling the sun burning through the cloak, I clutched her hand as she led me into a dark cave. We moved deeper into the cave, and Nimue disappeared and reemerged with a candle. I could not believe what I saw. What I thought was a damp hole was actually a beautifully appointed room illuminated now by the glow of a single candle. Some magic, perhaps? Soft light shimmered around the room, and I whimpered at the sight of it. “False light, my queen. It will not harm you. A trick only. See the mirrors? They make the light bounce. You must rest, Guinevere. Rest now.”

  I grabbed her arms and clung to her desperately. I could feel the dried blood caking on my skin; the smell of it sickened me. “You do not know what I have done.”