by Ines Johnson
Morgan didn’t hide her grin. He knew her so well. She did want a final look at the cyclotron and a chance to say goodbye to the scientific world.
At least for now. This wasn’t a farewell forever. Just a see ya later. Because she’d found the answer to the problem she was looking for. She’d found it in the least of all expected places; right here in her own backyard.
25
Arthur walked hand in hand with his bride down the long and winding stair. It was late morning, nearly afternoon. He’d kept them in bed past breakfast just as he’d warned her. Now, he was eying the dark corner at the end of the hall. But that would have to wait.
The people of the town smiled as they walked by. Men nodded at him. Women giggled and whispered behind their hands. It was as Morgan had feared. Everyone knew what they had been up to. They’d missed dinner and breakfast, after all.
In response, Morgan simply raised an eyebrow as she curled her fingers around his. Good thing, because Arthur was having trouble keeping the lion-wide grin off his face.
No one scolded them for anticipating their vows. As far as he was concerned, they were wedded now. He’d given his vow and there were no take backs. Not ever. Arthur pressed a kiss to her temple, quelling the urge to throw her over his shoulder and carry her back to his bed.
Duty called. He needed to get to the Throne Room for his meeting with the knights. Up ahead, he saw Gwin talking with Brendan, the chimney sweep.
“I should’ve warned you,” said Gwin. “We had a mishap a few days ago.”
“I only had to clear out the flues in the east and west halls,” said Brendan. “This one was like brand new on the interior. Whatever magic you used to clean it, bottle it up and sell it. I’ve never seen a flue sparkle like this.”
Morgan lifted her head proudly as they walked by. “Like I said, a little vinegar will clean just about any situation. Or destroy the inner workings. It’s either a blessing or a curse.”
“Just like you,” said Arthur.
Morgan punched him in the arm. He caught her closed fist in his before it could do any real or playful damage. Arthur unfurled her fingers and placed a kiss in her palm, darting his tongue out for a taste of her.
Morgan gasped. Her breasts rose and she arched towards him. Arthur pulled her to him and stole into her mouth.
“I have to go,” she said when he allowed her up for a breath of air.
They were at the entryway of Tintagel. The door was wide open. A breeze of spring air sailed through with a slight hint of the last vestiges of winter. It was enough to bring Arthur to his senses.
“Don’t dally,” he said, letting Morgan go.
She frowned. “Just because I said I’d spend the rest of my life with you doesn’t make you the boss of me.”
“Don’t. Dally.” He leaned into her, using his size to intimidate. Of course, she wasn’t cowed. “Because I have plans for you when you return.”
He leaned into her ear and whispered all the carnal plans he had in store for when she returned home.
Morgan nodded, as though he were giving her a honey-do list. The only thing that betrayed her arousal was the quickness of her shallow breaths. And also the curl of steam he imagined rising from the top of her head.
“Those are very valid points,” she said when he was done with his long list. “I will endeavor to return as soon as possible to help you with that.”
“Good girl.”
“And Arthur …” She tugged her lower lip into her mouth. The move tried Arthur’s resolve to not pull her into that dark hallway. “Thanks for not going caveman on me and demanding to drive me there so you can rip Dr. Accolon’s head off.”
“I’m a Renaissance man. Well, I was born during that time.”
He gave her another peck on the lips before he finally released his hold on her. Arthur watched the sway of Morgan’s hips without shame as she walked away from him. Then he watched as the squire ducked from behind the castle and set out on her trail. Before he did, the young squire turned and nodded to Arthur.
Arthur nodded in return. He may have been an enlightened man, but he wasn’t born during the dark ages. A little added protection wouldn’t hurt her. Especially if she didn’t know about it.
Arthur turned back into the castle and headed into the Throne Room. Lance, Percy, and Tristan were already seated, going over documents instead of looking at electronics.
Bors sat with his arms crossed over his shoulders. He reminded Arthur of a child on Christmas who’d gotten a generic gift instead of the name brand he’d written to Santa about. Bors looked up when he saw Arthur. Their gazes held. After a moment, Bors nodded. Arthur knew the elder knight might not agree with his choice of bride, but Arthur was also the Lord of the Castle and Bors would respect his decision.
Once Arthur took his seat, the meeting began. But for once, Arthur had trouble keeping his attention on the matters of the day. He was always attentive at the roundtable meetings. But this morning he had thoughts of a dark-haired witch on his mind.
Morgan should be back in a few hours. Just enough time to finish this meeting, check in on the squires’ training, and make his rounds around the town. Then he’d spend the rest of the day attending to his bride’s plentiful rounds. She was due for some more stretching before their wedding night.
But for now, he snapped back to focus on his job. It would appear that his full attention was needed as the knight’s dossier filled with events that needed his attention.
Lance had received word from Dame Loren. Apparently, she had started a civil war amongst the Valkyrie sisters of Asgard. Arthur would’ve expected to be hearing from their father, Odin, but apparently, the god was off again on his travels.
If that weren’t enough, a missive had been received from the fae king, Gyges. Geraint and Gawain had angered the trickster king when they ran off with a faerie princess who just happened to be Gyges’s daughter.
For weeks Arthur had been craving action. Now that he craved peace to spend with this new bride, everything under the sun in this realm and a few of the others were coming to him at once. And if that wasn’t enough the Templars appeared to be rearing their bloody heads again.
“I’ve received more information on the one who calls himself Malegant,” said Percy. “There appears to be a connection between the Philosopher’s Stone and the Friday, the 13th Massacre.”
“Do you mean Harry Potter and Jason?” said Tristan.
“The Friday Massacre from the 14th century in France,” said Lance. “When the king and the pope rounded up the Knights Templar and had them murdered.”
“I know. It was a joke,” said Tristan. “One Loren would’ve made if she were here.”
Loren might have made the joke, but she might not have known the history. That massacre, which did happen to fall on Friday the 13th, had been a turning point in both human and magical history.
The original order of the Poor Fellow-Soldiers of Christ and the Temple of Solomon was better known as the Knights Templar. They had been formed by Hugues de Payens, the descendant of a witch. Hugues was also an ancestor of Arthur.
He had formed the Templars to escort the followers of Christ, which included his family of witches and wizards, to the Holy Lands. The Templars had carried out this mission for decades, and at some point, became increasingly wealthy in their mission.
By the turn of the 14th century their wealth caused envy and suspicion in the French King Philip IV and Pope Clement V. On Friday, October 13, 1307, hundreds of Templars across the land were rounded up and arrested. The hangings, burnings, and executions came soon after.
The world lost thousands of devout soldiers in the war against magic. Those Templars that remained turned to the church and broke with the Knights of Camelot. That’s when the Templars began hunting knights and witches and snuffing out anything they deemed magical and therefore sinful.
“From my reports,” said Percy, “this Malegant is planning to raise an army of the five hundred fallen.”
“The fallen Templar Knights from the 14th century?” asked Tristan. “But they’re dead.”
“There is no magic that can raise the dead,” said Lance. “This is a dead end. This Accolon or Malegant or whatever he calls himself—”
“Wait,” said Arthur. “Say that again.”
“Which part?”
“His name.”
“He calls himself Malegant. His surname is Accolon.”
The prickles started down Arthur’s arm. Accolon wasn’t a common name. But he didn’t believe in coincidences.
“This is the man who married a Banduri?” said Arthur.
“Yes, but they divorced decades ago,” said Percy. “They had one child. Grew up to be a physicist. Works at Cardiff University. Gained some notoriety as he’s looking for a new element on the Periodic Table. His name is—”
But Arthur didn’t need his name. He was already up and out of his chair.
26
Apparently, there had been a late-season snowstorm last night. Morgan hadn’t noticed. How could she have? She’d been in a cocoon of warmth in Arthur’s bed.
This afternoon, the roads were clear of the snowstorm. Mounds were shoved aside. Morgan heard the gravel of salt crunching under the tires.
There weren’t many people on the highway, making her trip quick and easy. Even when she came to the city streets, cars turned in opposite directions from where she wanted to go. Lights turned green only seconds after turning red. It was like magic.
And because the roads were so clear and traffic so light, Morgan could clearly tell that she was being followed. She didn’t panic. The car was familiar. It was from her town.
She very nearly picked up her cellphone to call Arthur and have it out with him. But, one, he’d likely chide her for using the phone while driving. And, two, she much preferred to confront him face to face upon her return. Renaissance man, her ass.
Morgan pulled up to the campus. It was packed this afternoon. But before she began to crawl the lot for a spot, a car at the edge of the science building pulled out offering up its spot. If she didn’t know any better, she’d say it was magic.
Too bad for her tail. They’d be searching for a spot for at least a good quarter hour if they were lucky. Then they’d have to hoof it across campus back to the science building before they could spy on her and report back to Arthur. Serves them right.
She couldn’t believe Arthur didn’t trust her. She could hear his argument now. It was only to protect you, would be his likely defense. Which was kinda cute.
Morgan shook her head. For decades, she’d hated having a gang of protectors. But something was different now that she had one that was her very own. Her anger was slipping further and further away as she walked into the science building.
She waved to the guard as she walked up to the gate. Pulling out her lanyard, she tapped the keypad. It gave a cheery beep as she made her final entrance.
Morgan waited for the nostalgia to hit her, but it didn’t. This place wasn’t where she belonged. These weren’t her people.
Stepping off the elevator on the lab floor, she nearly collided with another person. A man in a dark jumpsuit stopped her just before she walked into a bucket filled with dirty water.
“My apologies,” said the janitor. “I didn’t see you there.”
Morgan opened her mouth to accept his apology, but immediately closed it again. And then closed her eyes as well as the acidity of the cleaning products burned her throat and eyes.
“I see you took my advice about the vinegar,” she said.
The old man’s grin was huge. “It got these floors sparkling like nothing I’ve ever seen.”
Morgan would’ve stayed and chatted with the man. But the watering in her eyes and the sting in her nostrils prevented it. She suspected the man may have gone overboard in his use of the acidic component. She managed a smile and a nod and then made her way past the janitor and into the lab.
Once inside, she felt the first pang of nostalgia. Looking up at the cyclotron and its wires and gears and lights, she had the first moment of doubt.
This was what she longed for; new discoveries, testing ideas, outlining variables, measuring results. But she already knew the outcome and she couldn’t share the conclusion.
She’d assumed the accelerator would tell her secrets of the world that she couldn’t see. In a way it had. She’d looked outside herself only to see that the answers had been inside of her all along.
Like a fox consuming a rooster to distill the truth. It all came back to alchemy. The secret was within you.
Morgan smirked. When had she become so cliché?
She turned from the accelerator. It wouldn’t help her on the next part of her journey. The scientists in these halls couldn’t accompany her on that path.
Morgan turned and saw Simon in the control room, a pencil between his lips, documents in his hands. His eyes scanned the data back and forth.
In another life, they’d have made great partners. As colleagues, definitely. Maybe even intimately.
Simon’s instincts were spot on. She wished she could give him the final piece of the puzzle he wanted to solve. But she had pointed him in the right direction. The rest would be up to him. Though if he found the truth, would anyone in the scientific community even believe him?
Simon looked up as she came in. Then he frowned. “You don’t have good news for me, do you?”
“I’m not taking the fellowship.”
“Is it about what happened between us? Because I can assure you that, though I do have an attraction to you, I will be everything professional.”
“No, it’s not us. There can’t be an us intimately or academically. Things have changed at home. I’m getting married.”
“You’re getting married?” The papers fell from his hands, fanning out in an interesting pattern. Most of the pages fell onto the control board. But one page was hanging on only by a corner.
“It was not my intention to waste your intellectual time,” said Morgan. “Nor toy with your emotions. I thought this was what I wanted, what I needed to do with my life. And in a way, it was. I needed to test this theory. I just never thought it would come to this conclusion. You ever have that happen in a research project?”
“I have,” said Simon. “It was with you, in fact. You were not what I expected.”
The lone sheath of paper fell to the floor. But not quick. It floated down, taking its time on the current of air. When it impacted the ground, there was no sound. The lack of a thud further increased the awkwardness of the moment between Morgan and Simon.
A squeak, a clang, and metallic bang sounded in the other room. Both Morgan and Simon’s gaze immediately went to the control panel. But it was dim and quiet. They lifted their heads to the cyclotron. The door had opened and the janitor had wheeled in his bucket of acidic water.
“You can’t have those cleaning products in here,” Simon shouted. He rushed past Morgan with his hands outstretched.
The janitor jerked to attention. The bucket making another creaking sound. The water sloshing to the sides of the pail with the janitor’s movement.
“Sorry, boss,” said the janitor. “It’s my first week. I’ll get it out of here.”
The man made to step out of the room, but the wheel of the bucket stuck. He gave it a jerk and the water tipped up nearing the top of the rim.
The acid smell hit Morgan’s nose again. She turned and saw the look of sheer horror on Simon’s face. If those chemicals got close to the cyclotron, the accelerator would malfunction. All his work would be lost.
Morgan didn’t want to be on the scientific team any longer. But she couldn’t have such an amazing piece of equipment damaged. But what could she do? She couldn’t get to the bucket in time.
The water sloshed against the other side of the pail. Up higher this time, and then over the top. Morgan felt the fire rage in her belly. She threw out her hands.
The water sloshed back into the bucket.
Not up against the other side. It settled down into the belly of the pail and stilled.
All was still inside the room. The janitor ceased his attempts to yank the wheel into motion. Simon had stilled in his advance. And Morgan stood, with her hands outstretched, palms burning.
That’s when the accelerator alarm blared, announcing that there had been a hit.
“I’m so sorry,” said the janitor. “I’ll just grab some towels to get this up.”
His eyes were wide on the machine as he backed out of the room. He likely thought the alarm had been caused by his clumsiness. But there wasn’t any spilled liquid on the floor. The pail and the water sat still and whole in front of the lab’s door.
Morgan stared down at her hands. The alarm screeched in her ears. Her hands were on fire—with witch fire. Her gut burned and she realized, it wasn’t love she felt there. It was magic.
Last night, when the hart had healed Arthur, it had healed her too. Her powers were back. She wanted to jump and shout for joy.
She looked up to find Simon. Instead of running to the control panel to examine the readings, Simon stared at her with that same wide-eyed, covetous expression that Arthur had turned on her this morning. Only there was no heat of desire in Simon’s gaze.
“All my life, I wasn’t a believer, and then came you,” said Simon. “I’ve never questioned so much since the day you came into my life. I’ve gone back and forth over what I was taught as a child, and what I believed as a learned man. And now, even seeing it with my own eyes, I still have trouble believing the truth.”
“The truth?” said Morgan. “What truth?”
“You’re a rooster rising at dawn, my lady. There’s pure gold inside you.”
Morgan looked down again at her blazing hands. She should extinguish this magical fire in front of a human. But it was already too late. She couldn’t make Simon unsee what he was seeing. Not without a memory potion. Arthur was going to be pissed.
“I want you to know that I’m not doing this for my father,” said Simon.