My Boyfriend Merlin (5 page)

We gathered in the Ragnar’s majestic living room. Mammoth brown-leather couches dominated the space, Rajasthan rugs softened hardwood floors, and floor to ceiling French doors opened to the woods outside. A stone hearth—fireplace was too bland a word for it—stood in the corner and went all the way up the thirty-foot wall. The living room opened to the second story of the house.

I sat in my favorite chair—a wood rocker next to a jeweled lamp where I could watch the gorgeously tall evergreens sway with the breeze. I had pulled a cashmere throw around my shoulders and huddled into it. The smell of pumpkin bread lingered on it. Alexa and I had cooked and decorated the house last night.

Out of the five couches in the room, Grey sank down on the couch next to the rocker. I held his hand. He had remained stone-faced through the whole process.

A ruddy-faced detective asked Grey, “Mr. Ragnar, one last time, the car slid down the drive and overturned crushing your sister but you were able to pull yourself out without even getting a scratch. Is that exactly what happened?”

Grey looked at Matt. “No.”

The detective’s gaze sharpened.

Matt touched his arm.

The detective blinked, looked confused for a moment, and then stared at his notepad. “Forgot what I was saying,” he muttered. He wiped a hand over his face and closed the pad. “It’s been a pretty crazy day with the Total Tremor and all. Too many accidents. I hope they find out what’s responsible quickly.” He gave us a brief nod. “I think that is all, Mr. Ragnar, Ms. DuLac. And again, I am very sorry for your loss.”

A few minutes later, the police had all cleared out of the manor. Grey went to stand at the window to watch them carry Alexa away.

Matt watched him. “The Council has entrusted me with the task of finding candidates. I have been traveling the world for over a year now. Only a candidate can lift the sword from the stone. It is part of the sword’s protection. One must be worthy.”

Sylvia drew a sweater around her. “But Grey is a Regular. He can’t be a candidate.”

“Let me get this straight.” I cut in. “Grey is a candidate. You came here to scout him.”

For the first time since I’d gotten on the Ducati—just this afternoon, but it seemed like a lifetime ago—Matt the Mighty Wizard looked uncertain. He said hesitatingly, “Y-yes.”

I sat down hard in the rocker. He’d become friends with me to get to Grey.

Matt cleared his throat. “Once the candidates arrive we will leave. You may take one bag.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Emrys—not on your say so,” Grey bit out.

“Grey, why don’t you go to bed?” Sylvia pushed a button on a large remote and a hidden panel opened to reveal a flat screen TV. She switched channels until she found one covering Trafalgar Square.

A reporter in a fitted suit stood in front of a long line of people. “Speculation about the Total Tremor continues. From all over the Isles, they have traveled to London. Tourists and residents are lining up for one purpose—to wait their turn, their chance to pull the sword from the stone. Yes, that is correct. You know how the story goes—King Arthur pulled the Sword from the Stone and became the king of England.”

The camera panned to the line of soldiers wearing heavy Kevlar and carrying long machine guns who stood guard around the square.

“The British government has been flooded by demands. Countries all around the world have sent delegates to be present for whatever the stone may yield. They believe- as the Total Tremor indicated- whatever happens with the sword here will affect the whole world.”

The camera cut to a bearded man in front of the crowd. In a thick British accent, he declared, “I’m not leaving until I get my chance. You can tell the Minister. You can tell the Queen. It’s my right.”

Others around him murmured in agreement. They held up signs ranging from “OUR SWORD. OUR CHANCE,” “IT’S THE END,” to “SAVE THE WORLD. PULL THE SWORD.”

“What do you think will happen if someone does pull the sword?” the reporter asked him.

“Not sure. Something. Nothing.  Who cares? No one will forget the bloke who pulled the sword. Point is—you won’t find out if you don’t try.”

Another man leaned in front of him. “The End is here. Listen to the legend. Arthur won’t come back until the land needs him. It’s the End. The sword is our one chance. We can’t just sit back.”

“It can’t be real,” I murmured.

Sylvia muted the sound. She clasped her hands together. “It is real. It is also our heritage. Everything you know about the legend is true—to a certain extent that is. King Arthur. Merlin. They were all real.” She pointed to the TV showing a close up of the giant stone.

“Heritage?” Grey scowled. “We’re all descended from Merlin?”

Matt let out an odd choked cough. “No. Many families had magic. Merlin just happens to be the most famous.”

A shadow crossed Grey’s patrician features. “All those times Alexa knew who was at the door. The night Dad died. She dreamt about him on the plane.”

Sylvia bowed her head. “The night your father died… everything changed. The family has run the bank for centuries. I never knew until then that its main commodity was…”

“Magic,” Matt finished for her.

Grey jumped up. “Do you know how crazy you sound?”

Matt pointed to the TV. The jagged black Stone half the size of a semi-truck took up most of the screen. “What about that? Is it real?”

“I. Don’t. Care,” Grey said.

Matt made an impatient sound. “Haven’t you ever wondered why you’ve succeeded in every sport you’ve tried? You have incredible reflexes—almost as if you see the action before it happens. It is because you are a candidate.”

Grey scowled. “I’m not anything to you.”

“Our race is called Keltoi. Some called themselves druids. Not Merlin, but a fringe group of wizards. Mostly we were just like everyone else—struggling to survive. Except we had one advantage, we could control the natural elements. Magic as you would call it. During Arthur’s time, the Keltoi were quite numerous, but everything changed after the Battle at Mt. Camlan.” A shadow crossed over Matt’s face. “When Arthur died at Mt. Camlan, the age of wizards and man living together passed. Eventually the wizards formed their own society away from those they called the Regulars. It was at the same time that the Gargoyles disappeared. Both races have been blending into the background of civilization for millennia.”

The large windows in the living room showed swaying trees hovering like gargantuan guardians over the house. I didn’t want to ask, but I did anyway.

“Why did the Sword appear now?” I said.

“Something very bad is coming—”

I knew Matt well enough to read a lie on him. “You don’t know.”

His lips twisted. “It doesn’t matter. The Gargoyles want it. And they are willing to kill whoever stands in the way.”

Sylvia hugged herself. “The Gargoyles wouldn’t do this. They have no magic except…”

Matt pinned her with a derisive look. “Except what merchants sell to them. The Gargoyles have been amassing power without us even knowing it. We are at war and because of you we’re losing.”

Sylvia lowered her eyes. “The Council never stopped me.”

“The Council has been short-sighted. They don’t want to take up the problem of regulating the sale of magic. I’m trying to change that.”

“Mom, you’re a
banker
,” Grey said. “Magic is not real!”

Matt flicked his hand. The whole sofa floated up a few inches. Grey jumped up as if he’d been sitting on a bed of lava. He leapt across it at Matt. His agility impressed me. Grey hadn’t become a jock by accident.

Before Grey reached him, Matt flicked his hand in the air again. Grey flew back.  His shoulders hit the wall with forceful thud. This time, Grey got up much more slowly.

I stepped in between them and faced down Matt. “You’ve proven your point.”

“I wanted to show him what would happen if a gargoyle came bursting through the door right now.” Matt locked eyes with Grey. “Believe me, it would be the last thing you’d ever see. You’re no more than a pup—one easily culled.”

Grey’s nostrils flared like a bull about to charge.

Marla burst into the room. “You need to see this.”

She hit the volume button on the remote. The clipped voice of the bubbly reporter blared through the flat screen. Yet, this time her face was a mask of sorrow. “This just in—we have had a death in Trafalgar Square. Twenty-five year old Gianni Russo traveled to London from Venice, Italy to try his hand at the legendary sword. But he will never return home again.” A scene of medical vans and police in the square filled the screen.

The reporter continued, “At approximately, nine-thirty this morning his turn at the sword came up. He stepped up onto the rock and touched the hilt of the sword. Those in the line behind him said nothing happened. He stepped off the rock and was on his way out of the square.”

The camera panned to the reporter when another man says he saw him clutch his arm. The next thing anyone knew, Gianni Russo had collapsed.” The camera panned to bring the reporter and a middle-aged man in focus.

The reporter stuck a microphone in the man’s face. “Can you tell us what you saw next?”

“He was there at the edge of the Square.” The man pointed to where police had set up ropes to funnel an exit out of Trafalgar Square. “Almost out. Then, he gripped his arm tight. Next thing I saw him fall to the ground.”

“Thank you, sir,” the reporter said. The camera panned back on him. “We don’t have confirmation yet, it appears to be a heart attack. However, relatives who’d come on the trip with Gianni Russo said he’d been in perfect health—”

Sylvia muted the TV. “Gianni was a candidate?”

“Yes,” said Matt. “There is risk in trying for the Sword.”

I rose up. “And you want Grey to do this?”

“Yes.” Matt pointed at the long line of people on TV who surrounded the Stone.  “We must find the sword-bearer. Imagine the power it gave to King Arthur. With it, he reshaped the world. We must make sure it doesn’t fall into the wrong hands. Why do think the Gargoyles sent the dragon? To wipe out any candidate that is not theirs.”

“How do you even know Grey’s a candidate?” I demanded. “Who says so?”

“I do.” Matt’s crystal-hard gaze locked with mine. “I am the one person in the world who can seek out candidates and I am not wrong. I have foreseen it.”

“You are a seer.” Sylvia looked at him with an awed expression. “There has only ever been one with name the
Emrys
. You are his descendant?”

I frowned. “What is a seer?”

Matt’s lips twisted into a grimace. “I see the future.”

***

I rested my elbows against the ledge of the balcony outside my room and tried to breathe. In the middle of the driveway, under the artificial light of the driveway lamp, sat the dry carcass of the fountain. Half of an ugly stone creature stared up at me. A wrinkled forehead, a dog’s face, outstretched wings—it was a gargoyle, I realized.

The front door flew open below me. Russet-brown strands of Matt’s hair gleamed in the sun as he hurried to his bike. Despite myself, my chest gave an odd squeeze at the sight of him. As if he could read my thoughts, his head snapped up. I stepped back into the shadows of the balcony hoping he wouldn’t spot me.

“Ryan.” Matt stood on the ledge of the balcony.

My mouth opened and closed. Against the backdrop of the sinking sky, his silhouette seemed to be surrounded by faint blue glow.

I said inanely, “How did you do that?”

Matt raised an amused brow. “I
am
a wizard.”

 “Great. Why don’t you wizard yourself back down?”

Matt jumped off the ledge and onto the balcony. “I know you’re upset.”

“That doesn’t begin to cover it.” I stepped back further into the shadows.

He inclined his head. “Are you hiding from me?”

I didn’t answer.

“Why are you out here?”

I hugged my arms to myself. “I couldn’t sleep. I keep thinking about—” I said in a rush, “The dragon. It’s like it lives behind my eyelids. Just waiting for me to fall asleep.”

In a blink, Matt had his arms around me. He pulled me tight against him. Warmth surrounded me pushing out the bitter chill. For a second I let it seep into my frigid bones. I let it drip inside me, a lifeline from the icy abyss that threatened to swallow me from within.

“You’ll be okay,” he murmured into my ear. “You’re not alone.”

I pulled away from him. “I am alone, Matt. Because of you. I lost my sister. You’re trying to take my brother. Tell me, Matt. How am I not alone?”

Whirling away from him, I stomped to the door back into my room.

“Just leave me alone.”

“I can’t.” The words seemed like almost a sigh.

My heart stilled and then restarted. The guy was a lying liar.
Lying liar?
Even in my head I sounded like a baby.

I burst out, “You used me to get to Grey.”

“Yes,” he replied without apology.

There was a pause. A long one. I was the first one to break. I turned my head to look at him. “So what’s left to say?”

Matt got up. Heat radiated off his body. His gaze caressed my face. “I need you—”

I cocked a brow. “You’re looking to hook up?”

He chuckled. “Not exactly.”

“I need you, Ryan,” he said softly. “You’re a candidate too.”