Author's Note:
Thank you to everyone who has stayed with me. Two years ago, I fell very, very sick. And then right as I was getting better... we adopted a baby. :O Yeah. I've tried hard to work on this and other stories that I have in progress, without much success until COVID came to visit my state. So, I'm hoping to generate a few more chapters (at least) while I have the chance. Hope you are all well, and WASH YOUR HANDS!
Librarians
Librarians
Chapter 15
The morning light streamed in between the window curtains. It was a late morning for both of them, but Cassie thought they deserved it. She thought over the revelations of yesterday. Being a Librarian came with an amusing amount of mind-blowing events, but this one was personal. She was going to give birth to a god. She wasn't really sure how she left about that, yet.
Jenkins, perhaps feeling her disquiet, stirred and opened his eyes. She had marveled yesterday how he went from fully asleep to fully awake. Probably a hold-over from his days as a soldier for King Arthur.
"Are you alright?" he asked quietly. He could tell she was disturbed, but didn't wish to pry.
"Yes," she nodded as she got out of bed. He gasped softly at the sight of her. The morning light made a halo all around her, her silky sleepwear flowing around her. If there were truly angels….
There was a knock on the door. Breakfast. Right. He cleared his throat. He didn't need to be thinking of her this way all of the time. Two women brought in trays and arrange them on the little sitting table at the opposite end of the room. Once they finished, they both made what were obviously deferential bows to Jenkins and left just as quietly as they had come. Cassandra considered the man before her thoughtfully as they ate. Who really was this man she had married?
"It will be dangerous, now that we are here," he said as they finished their meal and dressed for the day. "I would prefer that you make yourself as small a target as possible."
Cassandra stopped folding her clothes and stared at him. She didn't want to say out loud the first thing that had popped into her head, which was a scathing rebuke of what sounds like some serious parochial bullshit. Instead she really looked at him. His pupils were dilated, and she could hear his heartbeat increasing by the second. He was nervous about her reaction to his request. And he was afraid for her.
(A small voice inside her suggested he was only nervous for her because he would be in tough straights if she died, but she took a mental sledgehammer to her own insecurities).
"I understand," she nodded, trying to sound nonchalant and as reasonable as she could. "But that simply may not be possible, you know."
"We have an advantage," he said with a slight smirk. "Our enemies don't know that they'll be up against Merlin herself."
Cassie looked at her hand, where she had ignited the blue flame, and watched it flicker. She looked up at Jenkins, who was watching it as well, with a look of… awe? Expectation? "I'm not sure how I can help. I don't know how to use it."
"Yet. And that was something else I was planning to discuss with you." Jenkins fidgeted, and she instantly knew she wasn't going to like what he said next. "You need training. To protect yourself, to protect the world… to protect our child. I… I need to bring in my father, and…" He wetted his lips and took a deep breath. Cassandra's eyes grew wide at his distress. "Morgan Le Fey."
Cassandra opened her mouth in protest, and then shut it. She saw the patterns. There wasn't any reason to deny it, other than her own personal dislike of Morgan. "They both know magic."
"And they both knew my Merlin. They'll be the best at being able to help you quickly, no matter how much I dislike it."
"He told me there was more. DuLac, before he walked me down the aisle." Jenkin's jaw clenched, clearly holding in his wrath at the man who was his biological pater. Cassie looked into Jenkins eyes, and held her breath. She saw the raw power, the intelligence, the fierce devotion. He was so good at hiding it all, at just showing "The Caretaker", but Cassandra knew she was finally seeing the real man, the Knight of the Round Table. Galahad.
"They both can only be trusted insofar as their help might benefit them personally. Knowing that, however, allows to cautiously press forward."
He pulled out a stripped cloth square from his luggage and started to fold it to put in his suitcoat pocket. Cassandra had never seen that particular pattern before. It reminded her of the flag she had seen flying to the side of the castle gate as they had arrived.
"Does that color mean anything to you?"
Jenkins looked down at it in his hands, and his lips tightened, as if he were both bemused and annoyed at the same time. "It is my mother's clan colors. I always travel with it…. My… father never allowed me to wear his. He said, when I became of age, that he didn't want me using his fame."
Cassandra moved closer and hugged him tightly, and felt him return it. This man was so complicated, so ancient, and so human. She backed off, took the square from him, folded it properly, and tucked it into the breast pocket. She held her hand over his heart as she looked up at him. "Now you can face anything." He looked at her clear eyes, and believed her.
All stood as Jenkins walked into the castle's library. He had no particular memories of this castle, as he was not raised here. He had only been to here once, before, actually, to be presented to his maternal grandfather. Jenkins breathed a sigh of relief to see there were just as many woman present as men – he had wondered how changed his people were from the culture he had been born into. Today's Western society was just beginning to readmit women to positions of power. But the Celtic people has always known women had wisdom, and they had wielded tremendous power when he was born.
And even several who clearly identified as neither man or woman. Jenkins had fought alongside such people, and always found them to be even fiercer than those who identified traditionally, as the enemy had no purchase on how to engage with them. He saw that all of them wore a scarf or some scrap of his clan. He knew his own had been noted, and approved.
"Lord," the eldest women of the group bowed low from the waist, while the others bowed their heads. She looked strikingly like his mother had in her later years. "We have waited long for your return."
