-Five-
Morgan Le Fay
It rained again that night, beating a steady tempo on the roof of Liz's flat. She sat staring out the window blankly, a hollow ache filling her insides. Merlin had left the pub shortly after their conversation, and she hadn't been able to stop thinking about him ever since. She'd even looked at her back in her bathroom mirror, searching the left shoulder for any sign of a marking. There had been none, and she went back to doubting. Merlin didn't seem crazy, but she wasn't quite sure what he wanted from her.
His unerring knowledge of Camelot matched only that of an Arthurian scholar. Some of the questions had been obscure, but he'd answered them without hesitation as if he'd been there. She shook her head. That was crazy. His name was coincidence enough and her name too apparently.
Amaryllis d' Andreli had been a knight. It had to be some distant relative of hers. There was no way she was some reincarnation of her. No way. Things like that just didn't happen. Then why did she feel so lost? So conflicted? It was as if her mind was telling her that what Merlin said made sense. But it didn't. She was Liz Andreli. She worked at a pub and drew in her spare time. There was no way she had once been a knight of Camelot. What if Merlin had tampered with the question card? Liz shook that thought from her head almost at once. He wouldn't have even had access to the cards. Garret kept those cards in his office locked in a drawer and only took them out right before trivia night started. He'd used the same cards for years, but she didn't remember that question. Unless Merlin had tampered with the card. Just not in the way you might think. What did that even mean though? Liz shook her head. She needed a long, hot shower. Maybe then her brain would start thinking clearly.
…
Morgan was late. She was running behind schedule and it was raining again. She had gotten the times mixed up and had thought that the driver was coming for her at eight, not seven. Traffic in London had been unbearable even at that early hour, and then one of the back roads they'd taken had been closed due to a fallen tree. White Castle wasn't that small of a town, but getting there was not proving to be an easy feat.
The black sedan pulled onto another road after taking a long detour, this one pointing toward a small town called Ealdor. It advertised Camelot attractions and was clearly a tourist town.
"Are you sure this was the way?" she asked her driver. He nodded wordlessly, and she slumped back in her seat, swiping a finger across her iphone screen and checking the time. It was 10:00 in the morning, and she already needed a pick me up.
"Stop at the nearest pub," she told the driver. "I want to get something to eat before we continue on." She'd skipped breakfast thinking that they would have reached White Castle already, but the detour had taken much longer than expected, and she was famished.
The driver nodded wordlessly again, and Morgan sighed. She'd taken on this modeling job because she needed the money. A.V.A.L.O.N. Agency was unknown to her, but their website had praised them to no end with testimonials from models who had been hired by well-known companies. Morgan hadn't yet met anyone from the agency, but she'd received a phone call a few days before asking her to come up to White Castle for a photo shoot. They'd seen a few of her pictures and thought she was exactly what they were looking for. Morgan hadn't questioned them.
Ealdor was a neat little town, but too small for Morgan's taste. She'd spent the last six years of her life in London, trying to make a go of her modeling. She wasn't used to this quiet, serene atmosphere.
Her driver pulled up in front of a small pub called The White Dragon. Morgan smiled at the image of a little white dragon on the sign. "I'll just be a minute," she told the driver, opening the door and setting her heel-clad shoes on the pavement. They clicked as she walked, and she realized how out of place she looked among the down-to-earth locals and colorful tourists. Her black designer dress and expensive handbag looked alien compared to the jeans and shoulder bags. She entered the pub, going up to the counter and taking a seat.
A girl with long, honey blonde hair and a nose piercing greeted her with a smile. "Nice ring," Morgan said with a smile. It gave the girl a rebellious look that was nicely complemented by the strip of blue in her blonde hair.
"Thanks. All my friends hate it."
"Well, I like it," Morgan said. "Never mind what people think. I've always thought you should do what you like."
"What can I get you?" the girl asked.
"Just something to eat and perhaps some white wine." She had always tried to be sophisticated and drinking white wine seemed to make people think she was.
"You're not from around here," the girl said, pulling a menu out of her waist-apron. "Ireland, is it?" she commented on Morgan's accent.
"Originally. I've been living in London for the last six years though." She scanned the menu, finally picking a Caesar salad. "I'm up here for a modeling job. Well, I'm on route to White Castle. Have you been?"
"Yeah. Whenever I want to get away from the tourists, I head there. They still flock there, but at least it's big enough to avoid them for a block or two."
Morgan laughed. She liked this girl's spunk. "Between you and me, this whole Camelot thing seems a little silly," she said, leaning forward conspiratorially. "It's ancient history."
"I couldn't agree more," the girl said. "I'm Liz by the way." She held out a hand.
"Morgan." Morgan shook the girl's hand.
"I'll get that salad and wine out to you," Liz said.
Morgan looked around the pub in her absence, taking in the fake Excalibur on the wall above the bar. Clearly this town went the extra mile to show off its fetish. She wondered if they hosted reenactments. Probably. Morgan smiled to herself, twisting her glossy black hair around her left fingers while scrolling through her iphone with her right pointer finger. If only this dratted rain would let up. The forecast read rain more times than she wanted to count, and it was getting her down.
Liz set a plate heaped with salad greens in front of her and then a goblet of wine. Morgan smiled gratefully. "I can't believe how starving I am," she said. "Sometimes I wish I could just eat a steak, but I doubt my agency would approve of that."
Liz laughed. "Probably not, but I've always thought you should do what you like."
Morgan smirked. She liked this girl a lot. She reminded her of herself. "Never said a truer word."
"What kind of modeling do you do?"
"Oh, you know, an advertisement here and there. Sometimes I model a certain brand of clothing, but mainly its adverts for perfume or shampoo." She made a face. "It's not much, but it pays the bills. Sometimes."
They chatted while Morgan ate. The pub was mostly empty, and no one bothered them. Liz was interesting and told her about the area and how she'd come to live there.
"Sometimes I get the feeling I was meant to be somewhere else though, you know? Or rather, that's how I felt before I came here and now I can't seem to figure out why I'm here. Does that make sense?"
Morgan nodded. "That makes perfect sense. I feel the same way. I'm still not sure where I'm meant to be. But," she checked her phone, "I do have an appointment for noon, so I'd better be off." It was going on 10:45, and she didn't know how long the drive would take.
She reached into her purse for her wallet. "It's on me," Liz said, holding up a hand in protest.
"Oh, I couldn't."
"Pay me back when you come around to visit again," Liz said. "Seriously, you have no idea how bored I get here. An interesting conversation was payment enough."
"That's kind of you." Morgan smiled, genuinely touched by the gesture. "I haven't seen too many kind turns in the last few years."
"Then I'm glad that you stopped in here. Good luck with your job."
"Thank you. I'll be back."
When she left the pub, Morgan saw that her driver was waiting beside the car. He wordlessly opened the door for her and she got in. "Any idea how long of a drive it is to White Castle?" she asked.
The driver revved the engine. "About half an hour," he replied. The engine spluttered and died.
"What on earth is wrong with this car?" Morgan asked as the driver tried it again. The car continued to wheeze.
"The engine won't start," the driver said.
"I can see that. What's wrong with it?" she asked impatiently.
"I'm not sure. I'll check under the hood." He pulled a lever to pop the hood and exited the car. Morgan watched impatiently as he pushed the hood up and began to rifle around. She got out of the car and leaned up against the passenger door, watching him work and trying to ignore the rain.
"Can you get in and try the engine?" he asked. Morgan stared at him. "Please," he added irritably.
Morgan sniffed, getting into the driver's side and turning the key. The engine whined but wouldn't start. "No good," she called. She got out again.
"The battery is dead," the driver said.
"What? How?" she asked indignantly, glaring at the car as if it was its fault. Which, of course, it sort of was.
"It happens."
"Well then I need to call a taxi because I'm going to be late." As she spoke, thunder rumbled overhead and it began to shower. "Oh, fantastic." Morgan stepped back so that she was under the shelter of the pub's awning. The driver shut the hood to keep the engine from getting any wetter. He joined her.
"The only bus in town leaves at noon," he said. "No taxis."
"That will be too late."
"I'm sure if you call the agency, they'll understand." He had been sent by them to pick her up, fancy car and everything. So much for their charity.
"You think I should just call and cancel?"
"This storm isn't going to let up. All the locals will tell you it's best to stay off the roads."
Morgan sighed. Her make up and hair and clothes were ruined anyway. Not that they couldn't be redone, but she wanted to make a good first impression.
"Is something wrong?" Liz had come out of the pub.
"The car won't start and now it's raining," Morgan said woefully. "He thinks I should cancel my appointment."
Liz looked over at the driver as if sizing him up. "Well, the roads do get pretty slick when it rains like this." She pulled out her phone and scanned something. "They actually just closed the only road out of here. A tree fell over the bridge. Looks like you're stuck here for awhile."
"Fantastic." Morgan dialed up the agency. A crisp voice answered. "This is Morgan le Fay. I had an appointment at noon today, but I'm stuck in this little town…Ealdor. Apparently the bridge is down, so I have no way to get to White Castle." The woman asked about her driver. "The car stopped working as well. The battery is dead apparently." The woman more than understood. They could reschedule for next week. Morgan hung up. Great. Now she was stuck in this little tourist town with no way out and nowhere to stay.
"So it looks like you're going to be needing a place to stay for the night," Liz said.
"I spent my last paycheck on this outfit so I could be presentable for this job," Morgan lamented. "I don't think I can afford a hotel room for a night let alone an indefinite amount of time. How quickly do you think the bridge will be repaired?"
"It depends on the storm and how soon they can get a crew out there. Listen, if you need a place to stay, I have a flat on the other side of town. It's not much, but I have a couch and plenty of food to share."
Morgan looked at her in surprise. "Oh, I couldn't impose," she said.
"It wouldn't be imposing. Really. I could use the company."
"All right," Morgan agreed. "I will be forever in your debt – you're a life saver."
"Well, apparently I was a knight in a past life," Liz said, frowning.
"What?"
"Oh, never mind. It's just something someone told me." She waved her hand. "I'll go talk to Byron, the landlord's son and see if I can get off early. No one's going to be out in this weather. I don't have a car, but I have an extra wide umbrella."
"All right. If you're sure." She turned back to the driver who surveyed her without expression. "Is there somewhere you can stay?" she asked.
"It won't be a problem," he said. Somehow he'd managed to take her suitcase out of the trunk. She hadn't seen him do that.
Morgan decided that he was on the creepy side. She grabbed her suitcase and turned back to Liz. "Well then, where's this umbrella?"
"In the back." Liz held the door open for her. "I'll be right back." She left Morgan in the doorway, glad of the temporary warmth. Liz returned in a minute to say that she was free to leave. She waved a black umbrella before Morgan. It had white polka dots spattered across the top. "Ready?"
"As ready as I'll ever be." They left the pub and Liz slid her umbrella open. "Wait a minute." Morgan stared at the spot where the black sedan had just been parked. "The car!" she cried out to Liz. "It's gone. The driver is gone too!" She'd been tricked! But why?
