by Carol Oates
Emma refused to meet my eyes, although I tried a number of times to catch her attention. The red streaks in her hair were gone, replaced by a sky blue, and thick false eyelashes shielded her eyes from me as she picked at a green salad.
Caleb seemed much more himself, albeit quieter. Every so often he placed his fork beside his plate and flexed his fingers. Triona watched him as if he might sprout horns at any time. I hoped she’d rest up tonight since both she and Caleb would be training with Arthur in the morning. I had a planned session with Guinevere, Lewis and Annice.
I helped Amanda, Carmel, and Joshua clear up after dinner. We’d divided the minimum chores to keep the house in order for the next ten days or so. Afterward I excused myself to go find Emma. I needed to put this right. I promised John I’d look after her, and she promised to stay close to me. Neither of us could fulfill that promise with a chasm of silence between us.
I found her sitting cross-legged on the grass, under the full moon, down by the water. She wasn’t alone. Emma’s arm arched back over her head, her shoulder jutted forward with force, and a white ball zipped through the air. It broke the lake’s surface with a loud plop, and Archú splashed into the water with the energy of an over active toddler.
I mimicked her position, not enjoying how the damp grass soaked through my jeans almost on contact.
“Doesn’t Merlin mind you usurping his pet?” I asked in a casual tone.
Emma kept her focus straight ahead on the shimmering lake. “Archú isn’t Merlin’s pet—he’s his friend,” she corrected me blankly.
“How do you know that?”
The hound’s head appeared with the ball trapped in his frightening jaws and began his furious paddle to the shore.
“He told me.” She shrugged. “Dragons are magical. They don’t belong to anyone.”
Dripping wet, Archú trotted from the water as soon as he was able to stand and dropped the ball in Emma’s lap. His large pink tongue protruded from his mouth and dripped beads of spittle on her legs. Emma didn’t seem to notice or care. She picked up the ball and threw her arm back, launching it into the lake again.
The air smelled clean tonight with the weakest hint of blooming flowers, fresh soil, and new foliage floating around us. Spring had finally arrived.
“What’s with the hair?” I reached out and tugged on a lock of blue. Emma jerked away. I withdrew my hand, and my cheeks heated. Fury shimmered around her, plucking at me like an exposed nerve.
“It was time for a change,” she said, her voice as still and cold as ice, growing more irritated with me by the moment. “It’s the color the Picts wore going into battle. I thought it appropriate.”
I stretched my arms out in front of my chest, interlacing my fingers to relieve some of the tightness from my shoulders. I recalled they were the people from north of Hadrian’s Wall in Arthur’s time.
“I didn’t color it the historical way.”
“What’s that?” I asked.
“They used this plant called woad. They crushed up the leaves to make a blue power. The night before battle there was a great celebration, you know, in case they didn’t come back. They mixed this stuff with whatever they had to hand, spit, piss, semen…then they smeared it all over themselves.”
I grimaced in disgust, and dinner bubbled in my stomach at the thought. Archú dropped the ball in her lap once more. Emma picked it up, tossing it from hand to hand for a moment until Archú nudged her shoulder with his leathery black nose.
“I know,” Emma murmured to herself so low it felt intrusive to hear it. Her thick eyelashes fluttered like the wings of butterflies perched at the top of her cheeks. She flung the ball again.
I shuddered and looked at Emma sideways to see her holding back a small smile. So, she meant to freak me out with her disgusting story.
“Is that true?” I questioned dubiously with tightened eyes.
Emma’s smile broke through at last and lit up her face. “Maybe, maybe not. It’s just something a few historians put out there for a while, and Hollywood ran with it. I just like the color.”
I laughed and shook my head. I had no clue what had happened to make her ease up on me, and I didn’t care.
“I’m sorry about what happened,” I whispered, pulling my legs up to my chest. I threaded my fingers through my hair and rested my elbows on my knees.
“Did you know he was going to do that?”
“Emma, I honestly don’t think he knew himself. It was more a contingency plan.” It was only a partial lie, and I was sure John wouldn’t mind, given the circumstances. “And he did it as much to protect you as anyone. More.”
Archú emerged from the water again with the ball in his mouth. He shook his hairy body, far enough away that we only caught a fine mist of damp settling around us. Still, it reeked of wet dog. He trotted over and dropped the ball, lying down with his head on Emma’s thigh. She scratched behind his ear distractedly. The dog lifted his eyes without moving his head. The movement gave him a very humanlike expression, almost as though he arched his eyebrows in question.
“I won’t give up on my brother—ever,” she said with a note of finality in her voice.
We went back inside through the utility entrance to the house so as not to tread more mud on the floors than we already had over the last few days. I left Emma in the laundry room, drying Archú off with towels. Amanda should have finished with her e-mails, and I was looking forward to snuggling up in bed for a good night’s sleep before more training tomorrow. However, Merlin was waiting for me at the library with an expectant look on his face.
“Merlin,” I greeted him with an exaggerated grin. I couldn’t predict what state of mind he’d be in from one moment to the next.
He was fine at dinner, strong and quietly observing everyone around him. This Merlin leaned heavily on his cane. His long, silver hair hung around his face and shoulders, untamed. His wide eyes trailed me up and down, scrutinizing me carefully. I guessed this meant the old and slightly unhinged Merlin stood before me tonight.
“It’s time,” he said simply.
I cocked my head to the side as I approached him. “Time for what, old man?”
“Time for you to learn the old ways.” Merlin turned and walked back inside the room.
I presumed I was supposed to follow. I scratched the back of my neck, hesitating. He meant the mist thing. I wanted to learn how, but at the same time it scared me.
With a deep breath, I entered the library and closed the door after me. “So where do we begin?”
Merlin perched himself on the edge of one of the couches, his hands propped up on the cane between his legs. “You have already begun—when Guinevere used Excalibur to travel through the walls of the cave at Camelot. It was different from the portal you created.”
“I’m not sure I understand.” I took a seat opposite him, resting my elbows on my knees, any thought of sleep in my immediate future forgotten.
Merlin’s papery skin crinkled when his lips pulled up on one side in a knowing smile. “You passed through a solid wall—a magical wall to be specific. Guinevere did this using Excalibur and brought you and your lovely mate with her.”
“It hurt.” I winced at the memory.
“Did you anticipate a pleasant experience?”
I wasn’t taken aback by his sudden sharp tone. I had come to expect these head snapping shifts in his moods. “I wasn’t born into this world. I hardly know what to anticipate most of the time. Other than your pleasant nature, of course.”
I didn’t flinch when he banged the tip of his cane against the floor abruptly, anger radiating through his pinched features. “This is not a game!”
“No it isn’t,” I said. “So let’s begin, shall we?”
Merlin settled with a knowing smile causing the lines around his eyes to wrinkle deeper. “What is this?” He waved one spindly hand through the air in a circle.
“Your hand?”
“Try again.”
“Empty air.�
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Merlin lowered his hand to the head of his cane. “Not empty. There is no such thing. Even what you perceive as empty is filled with time, memory, the essence of what we are. You must learn to use this space in the same way Excalibur used the wall.”
“How do you know I can even do this?”
“Your bloodline.”
“What do we call this?” I asked dubiously.
“Call it magic, illusion, science…it makes no matter. The old ones were not as limited in their thinking. From my study of the histories collected by Samuel, I gather the Council has been successful in weeding out the practice from the root.”
I scrubbed my hands over my face. This was gearing up to be a very long night.
Chapter 30
Demons
GRAYISH LIGHT SPILLED in though the open drapes and across my face. The buzz of an electric toothbrush came from the bathroom. I lifted one drowsy eyelid and squinted out at bulbous, cloudy skies blurred by drizzle coating the windowpane. I groaned and rolled onto my front, my face flattening into my pillow and finding myself alone in bed once more. Each new day arrived with a sense of gratitude and foreboding none of us openly acknowledged. One more day together, though it brought us closer to the moment we might be ripped apart.
I’d grown used to waking up alone over the last several days. Amanda had taken to early morning training with gusto.
I arched my back, attempting to stretch the exhaustion from my bones. My belt buckle pressed into my stomach—I had fallen into bed just a few hours earlier still wearing jeans and a sweater. I spent every day, all day, training with various members of our ensemble, and each night Merlin coached me on what he called the old ways. Which, strangely, seemed more like something out of science fiction than history.
I discovered the mist was essentially a byproduct of inter-dimensional travel. Certain Guardians could exert their will over the physical world around them in the same way some influenced minds. This involved bending the laws of physics. I attempted to rationalize it by saying most of the things about Guardians bent all sorts of natural laws. In the end I decided to just accept it. Not that acceptance helped. I could now transport myself over short distances through the estate with great effort. I still experienced nausea and disorientation that made it borderline useless for a fight. Merlin said I lacked motivation. Any more motivation, and I’d have to give up sleeping completely.
Amanda emerged in black yoga pants and a sports bra, combing her fingers through her hair in a way that pulled her stomach taut. She smiled confidently and crawled over the bed toward me. I rolled onto my back and allowed her to straddle my hips.
“Morning, sunshine.” She beamed before pressing a kiss to my mouth. She tasted of mint and summer.
My arms automatically circled her waist, drawing her to me. Amanda leaned on my shoulders to push herself back up. The sensation of her wriggling against me caused an urgent need to unravel in the pit of my stomach.
“It’s breakfast time,” she said to divert my attention from where my mind and body were headed. There never seemed to be any time to just be together.
At the mention of food, my stomach growled, and Amanda giggled. My hands molded to her knees and skimmed up her thighs. She relished the early morning sessions, continuing to surprise me. Her dedication showed in the way her body was already beginning to harden as flesh strained over muscle. She’d never been soft, but a sleekness was beginning to lengthen her muscles and tone her limbs. Her skin had taken on a new vitality and radiance. These changes wouldn’t be as notable to someone who didn’t spend as much time watching Amanda as I did, but they were there.
She climbed off the bed and grabbed a zipped hooded sweatshirt from the back of the chair by the desk. “Come on. I’m starving, and I want to get there before Emma—make sure she eats.”
I leapt from the bed and had Amanda pinned against the wall by the door before she had time to blink. A bittersweet shiver at the base of my neck reminded me how easily she could still be caught off guard. For now Amanda smiled up at me, her chest heaving against mine and her heart fluttering madly. The temptation to take her and run away from this still took hold of me sometimes. Like now, when I wanted nothing more than to lock the world out. I brushed a lock of silky blond hair behind her ear and trailed my finger down her throat, feeling the blood pulse beneath her skin. Amanda hooked her thumbs through my belt loops and trembled. A breathy sigh passed her lips, sending her scent washing over me.
“What are you doing, babe?” she whispered, a tiny curve of a smile tilting her lips up. Her scent deepened, tempting me further.
I cupped her face and pressed our foreheads together. “I love you. I don’t tell you enough, but I should. I should tell you every morning before you go out that door. I was unmade the day we met, unraveled, picked apart, and put back together.”
Our noses touched gently as I brought my lips to hers. I brushed the plump, pink flesh of her mouth with my own. Amanda’s warm breath shuddered in the non-existent space between us.
“I do—” she began, almost gasping the words.
“No,” I cut her off, knowing she’d try to excuse my clumsy declarations the way she always did. “You’re the best person I know. Everything I am, everything I have…you are everything…”
Amanda’s eyelashes quivered, creating fine shadows over her smooth cheeks. She tilted her head back and met my gaze, her eyes glassy with emotion.
I groaned heavily. “I’m not good with words.”
“Oh, I think you do just fine.”
Meals had become a group event. We ate breakfast, lunch, and dinner around the long table in the dining room. In fact, a weird normality had taken over the atmosphere at the Brier, as though our motley crew had always been in residence. Even some of the ground staff had returned to the estate, although not to the immediate vicinity of the house. All anyone knew was that John was out of the country on business and only reachable by e-mail. Emma dealt with any immediate business with Samuel’s help. His centuries of subterfuge, falsifying documents, and his level head in a crisis came in handy.
I scooped fried eggs from a chrome platter on the serving table along the wall and added them to my plate, already piled with bacon and grilled tomatoes. I slipped into a seat beside Amanda and took a large gulp of the orange juice she’d poured. We were the last down this morning. Even Merlin was self-segregated at the opposite end of the table. He tucked into a bowl of salted porridge with a side of hot apple pie and cheese while scrolling the screen of an iPad beside his bowl.
Joshua did most of the cooking, assisted by whoever happened to be free. It seemed unfair at first, until I realized he enjoyed it.
He didn’t shy away from training, but his real talents lay elsewhere. Caleb’s older brother was a born organizer, seeing his role as preparing the rest of us. He made sure we were fed, had clean linens, and knew where we should be at any given time during the day.
I sopped up some still runny yoke with a piece of toast when the sound of Samuel shuffling his newspaper brought my attention to Caleb sitting beside him. Merlin had been right. Caleb suffered no permanent damage from his time locked away. Triona brushed a stray crumb from his chin with her napkin and he winked at her. A happy sigh accompanied her smile before she caught herself and swallowed, glancing to Emma sitting on her other side. Triona wanted to be happy, but it was as though she was always on her guard. I didn’t doubt her love for Caleb or that it had been easier to be with him those months without John’s shadow looming down on them.
“How are you today, Caleb?” I asked brightly. Triona flashed a warning glance, which I ignored.
He stiffened, and his blue eyes consciously avoided looking at Eila. His jaw worked as he chewed, and a moment later gulped his food. “I feel myself again, thank you. How are you, Ben?”
Triona’s lips flattened into a straight line, and she rolled her eyes. Amanda pinched my leg, the same as every other morning. I inhaled a deep breath, ignoring the fishh
ooks embedding themselves in my thoughts. Soon they would retract, dragging the answer from my brain. I paid attention to thoughts that itched and attempted to dislodge, and formulated a truthful response to the question. White hot needles stabbed my tongue, and I pressed it against the roof of my mouth as long as I could stand. “I haven’t been sleeping enough, and I’m slightly disgusted at Merlin’s breakfast choice.”
Merlin huffed, Amanda pinched me again, and Caleb smirked. Regardless, there was a reason for our concern that went beyond pleasantries. I had long noticed Samuel and Annice’s ability to pause before answering a question in Eila’s presence. The answers spewed from the rest of us like a mouthful of scalding coffee. Caleb and I devised this plan as an exercise. While everyone else either read or made innocuous small talk minus questions, Caleb and I practiced selective truth.
“What are your thoughts on our scheduled training today, Ben?” Caleb asked, arching an eyebrow in challenge.
I concentrated as the hooks set in and sipped juice to occupy my mouth. My fingertips trembled against the glass, but still, a mischievous chuckle vibrated in my throat. Caleb obviously considered himself clever, perhaps even psyching me out and attempting to pry my weakness directly from my brain. This question I had anticipated and prepared for. “I’m confident my strength will match your experience.” I smiled.
It was the truth because I couldn’t lie, but my answer made it sound like I expected to win when I wasn’t entirely sure strength would be enough. I’d watched Caleb train. He was startlingly fast and flexible.
“How do you feel about facing me in training, Caleb?”
Triona’s fork clattered to her plate. “Is this question and answer game necessary every morning, Ben?” she demanded in irritation.