Knight Life (42 page)

    
“I wouldn't know,” said Arthur evenly. “I don't make a habit of losing.”

    
He closed the phone and handed it back to Ronnie without a word.

I
T HAPPENED WITH
incredible swiftness.

    
Gwen pivoted and leaped in Lance's direction. Lance, thinking she was trying to escape, shouted, “Don't worry, Morgan! I got her!” So saying, he grabbed for Gwen. He got a grip on her shoulders and made as if to hold her in place. It looked to all intents and purposes that he had a really solid grasp on her.

    
Morgan's hands were glowing. The power of the spell was already in existence, and once called into the world, the power had to be unleashed lest it backlash against the wielder. Morgan passed her hands through the air, the gestures shaping the nature of the spell, and the power was aimed right at Gwen. At the last second Gwen suddenly twisted away from Lance, breaking his grip easily, fear pumping adrenaline through her body. She dropped to the ground, shielding her eyes. Lance only had the chance to open his mouth and start to frame a question
before he was bathed in the light of the spell. There was a sudden sound, like a vacuum being sucked into a bottle. One instant Lance was there, the next he wasn't.

    
Actually, that was not quite true. There was a large, gray rodent skittering around on the floor, squeaking angrily. Morgan looked down in dismay and said, “Rats.”

    
Her smoldering eyes turned to Gwen, and, without saying another word, she gestured and another blast of mystic energy blew from her hand. Gwen leaped out of the way, sure-footed in her black sneakers. She felt the air sizzle around her and looked around. Where the energy bolt had struck after missing her, several large pillows and a good chunk of the floor had disappeared.

    
Her heart pounding like a jackhammer, Gwen moved quickly in Merlin's direction, praying that somehow the trapped magician would be able to aid her. Suddenly she stepped on something that let out an ear-piercing squeal. It was Lance. She made a quick movement with her feet as he scampered between them, and she tripped herself up. She fell heavily to the ground, slamming her elbows down and sending pain shooting up her arms. She rolled onto her back and looked up just as Morgan shouted her triumph and let fly a bolt of energy, one that would erase Gwen DeVere Queen from the face of the earth.

I
N HIS APARTMENT
, Moe Dreskin was busy packing and diligently ignoring the ringing phone on the nightstand. He had a feeling he knew who it was: Keating, telling him that all was forgiven, that he should c'mon over, party hardy, let's kick ass and take names.

    
Modred would have none of it. He said to the ringing phone, “No way. If Arthur loses, he'll kill me. If Arthur wins, mother kills me.”

    
He picked up a pair of airline tickets, kissed them with more passion than he'd ever kissed a woman, and tossed them into his bags.

* * *

T
ΙΜΕ SEEMED TO
slow to a crawl. As Morgan was letting loose with the spell that she knew would rid her of Gwen, she saw the woman lunge for something to her right. But it was a desperation move, certainly, of no threat to Morgan.

    
The power lashed out at Gwen and, just at that second, Gwen held up a large fragment of the mirror that had been used to dispatch the demon . . . the mirror that Morgan had shattered. She was clutching it so desperately that she had already sliced her fingers, blood trickling along the edges of the glass, but that was not the important thing. No, of far greater import was that Morgan's spell struck the mirror, ricocheted, and hit the crystal column in which Merlin was trapped.

    
“No!”
screamed Morgan, but it was too late. Like a laser cracking a diamond, the spell of disintegration pierced the crystal. A weblike pattern of lines appeared on the surface, and Merlin's small body began to glow with power. Again Morgan cried
“No!”
a split second before the crystal shattered into a million shards. Gwen shielded her eyes, but miraculously, or perhaps magically, not so much as a single piece cut her. Morgan, on the other hand, was unable to fend off what seemed like thousands of angry hornets stinging her. She went down, pieces of crystal embedded in her dress and skin.

    
Merlin stood there, his eyes smoldering with anger and power. His fists were clenched and glowing. “Morgan,” he said in a dangerous voice, “you've kept bound forces with which you should not have tampered.”

    
“You little fiend!” Morgan cried. “That's the second time you've done that. First you nearly get me cut to ribbons with my own television set, and now this. Well no more, I tell you. No more!” Her body glowed. “You're in my place now, Merlin. You cannot win!”

    
“Gwen! Behind me!” ordered Merlin. Gwen barely had
time to comply before Morgan's mystical attack was launched.

    
And on the altar, the black and white candles that had been governing the outcome of the election, had fallen together and were now melting into each other.

“I
N A SUDDEN
reversal,” the newscaster said, “returns from the upper Manhattan voting districts have tilted the balloting more toward Arthur Penn.”

    
The roar that went up around Arthur was deafening. Over the shouting, Percival said in his ear, “Looks like we're going to be putting in a long night.”

    
“That's certainly superior to the alternative,” said Arthur.

M
ERLIN HAD ERECTED
his mystical defenses barely in time. A sphere of pure energy surrounded him and Gwen, as Morgan's powerful spells bounced off the shields. Pillows imploded into nothingness. Walls began to melt into puddles. And Morgan's wrath grew.

    
Merlin, his face frozen in concentration, worked on maintaining the shields that were preserving their lives. Gwen crawled to him and demanded, “Now what?”

    
“You're asking me?” said Merlin desperately. “You're the one who came to the rescue. I assumed you'd figured a way out.”

    
“I did,” said Gwen. “You're it.”

    
“Wonderful,” replied Merlin.

    
Energy cascaded around them, dancing in little sparks. “I can't hold her back much longer,” grated Merlin. “I'm too weak. I've been cooped up for too long.”

    
“Then what are we going to do?”

    
“Will you stop asking me that?”

    
“All right,” said Gwen angrily. “All right!” She started to stand. “Cover me.”

    
Merlin looked at her, aghast. “What? What do you think this is, a Western? What do you mean, cover you?”

    
“I'm going to get her.”

    
“You're insane! There are forces being unleashed here you know nothing about.”

    
“Good,” said Gwen. “If I knew about them, I'd probably be more terrified than I am right now. See you next lifetime, Merlin.”

    
“Gwen—”

    
Gwen leaped out from behind the protection of Merlin's shields. She rolled across the smoldering carpet as Morgan, blind with fury, directed her attack at Gwen's quick moving form. Gwen, heart pounding with excitement, mind racing thanks to the uppers, moved with a speed that defied description. And Morgan, caught up in her anger, used her power wildly, recklessly. She did not take time to aim, or plan, or think, letting her raw fury guide her. Gwen broke right, broke left, leaped forward, then pivoted and dodged again to the right. Explosions of primal force bracketed her. A chunk of floor tilted wildly under her and she jumped off it, rolling that much closer to Morgan. A sudden instinct warned her, and she ducked to one side as a huge piece of plaster from the ceiling fell and shattered right where she'd been.

    
Morgan was grinning wildly. “You're going to die, Guinevere, you slut!” she shrieked. “My brother's whore! There'll be less than nothing left of you when I'm through.”

    
Still two yards away, Gwen shot back, “All talking, bitch queen, but no action. Hiding behind your spells and your pretty lights! When it comes down to the crunch, you just don't have what it takes.”

    
“You . . . you ...” Raw energy flew between Morgan's palms and arced outward at Gwen. She leaped in the one direction Morgan had not anticipated—straight at her. Gwen came in low in a flying tackle, her arms wrapped
around Morgan's legs, and the two of them went down in a tumble of arms and legs.

    
Merlin shouted from across the room, “Gwen! Don't look in her eyes! Not at such close quarters!” And Gwen, hearing his words, shut her eyes tightly, even as she and Morgan rolled, struggling hand to hand.

    
Then Gwen was on her back, Morgan straddling her. There was a triumphant gleam in Morgan's eyes that Gwen didn't see. “I don't need my magic to finish you, little queen.” She brought her hand down, open, slapping it across Gwen's cheek. “That's just the beginning of paying you back for what you've done to me.”

    
She snapped her fingers and suddenly the knife that Gwen had thrown at her earlier was in Morgan's hand. She was poised to bring it down squarely into Gwen's chest. The pain raced through Gwen's face even as she brought her legs up from behind and wrapped her knees around Morgan's neck. The sorceress gagged, gasping for air, as Gwen turned and slammed her down on the ground. The impact stunned Morgan momentarily, and caused her to drop the knife. Quick as lightning Gwen released her hold on Morgan and hurled herself at the knife. Her desperate fingers curled around the hilt, and before Morgan could regain her senses, Gwen had thrown herself across Morgan's prostrate form.

    
She held the knife over Morgan's rapidly rising breasts.

    
“Finish her!” shouted Merlin.

    
Morgan, petrified, made no move. Her gaze shifted from the knife to Gwen, but Gwen was careful not to look at her directly. Her entire concentration was on the point of the knife, poised directly over her fallen foe's heart. Gwen's hand trembled. She bit her lip.

    
“Damnit, woman! What are you waiting for? Kill her!” Merlin screamed.

    
“I—” Gwen half sobbed, exhaustion overtaking her. “I can't! I can't just kill someone. We've beaten her. Isn't that enough?”

    
The air crackled around them. Gwen's head flew back, her mouth open in a silent scream. And then, like a marionette, Gwen was hurled back, soaring through the air, her body twisted. She hit a wall with a sickening crunch and slid to the floor like a broken doll. A small trickle of blood ran down the side of her mouth. She did not move again.

    
“No,” said Morgan, getting slowly to her feet. “It wasn't enough, little queen. Not nearly enough.”

A
RTHUR WAS IN
the men's room. Percival watched dismally as the latest tallies were reported. He turned to Ronnie, Elvis, and Buddy and said simply, “The gap is widening. We may lose.”

M
ORGAN TILTED HER
head back, her mouth opened wide, and she started to laugh. Then a mystic bolt hit her with full impact. Her instincts warned her barely in time to raise a most minimal shield. She fell back, terror in her eyes.

    
Merlin was standing there. His fists were glowing, smoke rising from them. His eyes were little more than white, pupil-less spots with energy crackling from them. Lance the Rat cowered in a corner.

    
“All right, Morgan.” The voice of an old man rose from the throat of a young boy, and when he cracked his knuckles it sounded like thunder. “Let's see what you've got.”

    
The air exploded.

Y
E
OLDE
S
OUND
B
ITE

“And with new returns coming in, we see another swing in the direction of Arthur Penn. With ten percent of the votes tallied, it now appears that the Independent candidate and Bernard Keating, the Republican candidate, are dead even. I would have to say that, at this point, it is far too early to call Arthur Penn out of the race. And as a side note, precincts are reporting record turnout among voters eighteen to twenty-four . . .”