Ever My Merlin

chapter 14 – PROM

The week passed swiftly. Marilynn was only too happy to get away from the house (and Matt). She covered the first half of the week while I slept most of the time. Sylvia managed to get a doctor to make a house call, but I didn’t really need one. Vane had done something while I’d slept. I didn’t know what, but it helped. Although I was tired, my body seemed to be finally healing.

I made it to school Thursday and Friday. They were easy days. No one really wanted to concentrate. Most of the talk centered on prom and who had gotten accepted to which college. Bennett, our valedictorian, got early admission to MIT. She was staying nearby. Many of the kids decided to stay close. Ramanajan was going to Boston University. Nearly a hundred colleges lay scattered through Boston and its surrounding areas. I hadn’t even applied. Neither had Grey, but Harvard held a reserved family seat for the Ragnars.

It depressed me a little that I wasn’t thinking about the future. So I decided to go home and pull out the stack of brochures lying forgotten at the back of my desk. I’d filled out one online application when a thought struck me. I searched for the keywords ‘King Arthur’ and ‘Boston.’ Pages and pages of results returned for the Total Tremor and rumors about the inevitable end of the world. I decided not to read the conspiracy columns. I wondered how many of them were put out by the government.

The Security Council had decided not to go public. One, there wasn’t an immediate solution to offer. Two, they were working on a secret project with Merlin to which I hadn’t been able to get the details. (Matt refused to tell me in case Vane gleaned it through the Dragon’s Eye.) Three, it was decided the chaos such an announcement would cause would undermine what efforts they could make to find a way out.

On impulse, I added another keyword ‘illustration’ to the search. One link immediately stood out—a series of murals hanging in the Boston Public Library. I clicked through websites that detailed the murals. My heart sped up. The series was titled The Quest and Achievement of the Holy Grail.

The drafty glass doors of my room showed a clear night sky. The clock on my cell read midnight. I wouldn’t be able to get into the library tonight. I glanced at my room’s closed door. If I wanted to do this tonight, I had to ask Matt for help. We’d barely spoken since Rourke’s death. He remained holed up in his study, doing who knows what. He didn’t ask for my help and I didn’t volunteer. Again, I found myself unable to cross the chasm between us. It was becoming a pattern.

But I couldn’t ignore this. I trudged down the stairs to Sylvia’s study, deciding not to take the crutch. The hallways were eerily empty. The house had been emptied of gargoyles. Grey, Gia, and Sylvia would return tomorrow morning from the funeral. Apparently, Rourke owned a brownstone in New York or an estate in Long Island. No one wanted to mention the inheritance of the throne, but I noticed Deirdre and Colin staying very close to Grey. As for Grey, I knew he wanted nothing to do with it.

I couldn’t blame him. I hadn’t touched Excalibur for months. I didn’t miss it.

Okay, that was a lie. I tried not to miss it.

I passed by the living room. A group of twenty or so young wizards sat together eating popcorn. Marilynn was on the couch at the center of them. A few girls sighed and pointed to the giant flat screen. I immediately recognized the ultimate prom movie (a personal favorite of mine which I would only admit to under pain of death)—Pretty in Pink.

A girl with long braids spotted me hovering. She gave me a beaming smile. “Will you be going tomorrow, sword-bearer?”

The question blindsided me. I doubted Vane would actually show. “Uh, I don’t think—”

“Merlin is taking her,” a boy next to her said. “I heard it at school.”

Marilynn’s gaze locked on me. “Is he?”

“He hasn’t asked and since it’s tomorrow, I doubt it.”

Marilynn nodded as if I told her nothing she didn’t already know. The other witches and wizards gave me pitying looks. I asked quickly, “Are all of you going?”

The whole group nodded.

“Don’t you have dances at Avalon Prep?” I wondered aloud.

“Um, not really,” said the girl with braids. “We used to have a Yule Ball, but they gutted it after someone made the decorations explode.”

“They were trying to magic them to dance,” murmured the boy beside her.

The girl with braids took his hand and gushed, “Tomorrow is going to be so much fun. I heard the hall is grander than a Parisian opera house.”

It was. I’d seen pictures of the venue. Marilynn had outdone herself. I glanced at her. She was grinning at the girl. For someone who had to be twenty-something Marilynn was oddly obsessed with prom. I groaned internally and forced myself to do the right thing. “Since I’m not going, Marilynn, you ought to go. The head of the committee should show up just in case.”

Her head snapped up to look at me. I returned the suspicious look with a steady gaze.

“Just in case,” she agreed quickly.

She jerked her head back toward the screen as if to stop me from changing my mind. I bit my lip to suppress my smile. The group shushed each other as the big prom finale started on screen. I watched for a few minutes and slipped away. The study, it turned out, was empty.

No Matt in sight.

That’s how I found myself at the library the next afternoon.

I spent the morning on the phone dealing with a last minute prom crisis over parking. Marilynn disappeared somewhere (sans cell phone, I suspected a prom hair emergency). After solving said crisis, it took two hours to drive to Alewife, catch the Red Line train into Boston, and switched subway lines to get to Copley Station.

The Boston Public Library took up two buildings. A harsh sun heated the wide concrete surrounding a patch of grass called Copley Square. The McKim Building resembled a three-story palace with arched columns and giant entrance. From the first floor, I climbed up to the mezzanine level. Below me, children played in an open courtyard complete with fountain. Resisting an urge to linger and watch their laughter, I followed the signs up to the second floor. I crossed past librarians milling with researchers and other patrons and reached the other side of the building. The ornate grandiosity of Bates Hall caught my eye. Coffered ceilings and arched windows had been architected as a Roman cathedral. Rows of low desks with lamps lined the length of the hall as if waiting for class to begin. Bookshelves lined the sides but didn’t reach high enough to touch the domed ceiling. To the side of the grand hall lay Abbey Room where Edward Austin Abbey's murals covered the walls, floor to ceiling. The gallery held five paintings. I read aloud, “The Vision, the Oath of Knighthood, the Round Table, the Departure, and the Castle of the Grail.”

“About time you found them.”

Matt’s voice made me jump. Except it wasn’t Matt. My pulse went from normal to skyrocket speed in less than a second. Doppelganger-Matt stood casually just inside the gallery. He wore pristine black formalwear with easy confidence. The tailored tuxedo fit him perfectly and the freshness of the material indicated it had been made recently. He’d gotten it made for me, I realized. For today.

A shiny deep-green vest, reminiscent of the sea, fit snugly across his lean chest. A matching green tie was tucked neatly under the vest and shiny black shoes completed the ensemble. Longish brown hair was tamed into submission—something that confirmed Doppelganger-Matt’s true identity.

“Going somewhere?” I asked.

“I have an engagement.” His eyes swam with calm waves and the way they watched me… I could have melted right on the spot.

A glance raked me from head to toe. “You look better.”

“I feel it. No more ugly crutch.” I raised and lowered my hands. “See.”

His gaze lingered on my T-shirt as it stretched across my chest. “I agree. Not ugly.”

I lost the fight to not blush. “How did you find me here?”

“I’ll always find you,” he replied with a roguish grin. He lifted his wrist to glance at a heavy silver watch. “It’s early. Would you like to walk around with me?”

He stuck out a tuxedo-clad elbow. I found myself taking it. A charming Vane was impossible to refuse. Walking around in jeans and T-shirt with a guy in fine formalwear made us strikingly conspicuous, but I found it easy to ignore the occasional passerby’s odd looks. He led me to the first painting in the series. I read a plaque near the painting. “In the Vision, a white-robed nun holds up the child, Galahad. An angel visits. The angel carries a dove, a golden censer, and the Grail under a red shroud. What’s a censer?”

“It holds burning incense.” His arm slipped out of the elbow-hold and a warm palm settled on my back instead.

I struggled to concentrate as we walked to the next painting. My voice had a slight waver as I read the next description. "The Oath. The nuns bring Galahad to Sir Lancelot and Sir Bors, who fasten spurs on him.”

“Getting him ready for his journey.” Doppelganger-Matt leaned close.

All too aware of his proximity, I tried to ignore the sweet, clean breeze of his breath as it traced the curves of my ear. Finally, I couldn’t stand it. I jerked away from him and walked to the next painting. He chuckled behind me. I leaned down to read the next plaque. “In the Round Table, the leaders of Arthur's realm are seated at a full table with only one empty seat when the palace becomes suffused with light and Galahad comes in with an old man to take the empty seat.”

“The one pure of heart is found,” Doppelganger-Matt said softly.

Pure of heart. I paused. Vane had once said that only one pure of heart could pull Excalibur. Also, the picture seemed familiar. Much like the tapestry in the UN Security Council room. I went to the fourth painting. “In the Departure, the knights attend mass with Galahad, who is now a knight.”

Doppelganger-Matt stared at the painting. “It looks to me as if they’re waiting at the altar.”

“In Castle of the Grail, the Fisher King, the King of the Grail, has been wounded by an act of unlawful love and lies under a spell. Although the Grail appears in front of them, they cannot see it. Until Galahad, the most blameless knight arrives. He sees a damsel with a golden Dish, two knights with the candlesticks, a knight holding a bleeding Spear, and the bearer of the Cup. Galahad must ask what these things denote. The first time, he does not, and the Castle continues to suffer for his silence. On his second visit, many years later, he asks the questions and is finally rewarded.”

I traced the painting in the air. “The golden dish— doesn’t that look like the sun? It’s a golden circle. The bleeding spear is the Fisher King’s trident. The Cup—we already know that’s the apple—”

“We do?” Doppelganger-Matt said.

“It’s under a red shroud in the first picture. Red for apple.”

“And the candlesticks?”

I squinted at the painting. “Don’t candles mean divine light?”

Calm sea-eyes fixed on me again. “Divine light or celestial light… a sign of Kronos?”

I frowned. “What does all this tell us, though? Why these paintings?”

“The paintings are not the point. It’s the story they are telling. It’s been told over and over again… for a reason.”

I tilted my head to look up at the straight line of his jaw. “Tell us what?”

“I had hoped you’d have that figured out for me by now.”

“I’ve been unconscious for most of the week.”

“A sorry excuse,” he deadpanned.

I stuck my tongue out at him. “Do your own work.”

Before I knew it, I was being yanked to him. My tongue captured by his mouth in a wild kiss. It didn’t last long. A loud harrumph by an elderly man had me pushing him away, despite being nearly blinded by my own hunger.

“Do you want to eat?” he said.

“Uh” was all I managed as a reply.

“The library will be closing in five minutes, please take your selections to the checkout desk,” intoned a voice above us.

“It’s later than I thought.” He grabbed my wrist and led me out of the gallery. We dodged a few slow-moving strollers on the stairs.

I went willingly until we reached the mezzanine level. “Wait, where are you taking me?”

“There’s this dance.”

I halted. “I don’t have a dress.”

He tugged me forward. “It’s in the limo.”

I stared at him. “You hired a limo.”

“You asked.”

I bit my lip. This didn’t seem like the smartest idea. Under his fine suit and civilized glamour, an untamed monster lurked.

I didn’t get a chance to refuse. Doppelganger-Matt hurried me along an open balcony toward stairs to the first floor. I went while still debating the question. I gave myself until we reached the front of the building to make up my mind. In the courtyard, a toddler broke away from his family and hurled himself into an outgoing stream of people. They surrounded him, cutting him off from his family. His face screwed up to let out a wail. I moved to go to the boy, but Doppelganger-Matt beat me to it. If I hadn’t been so aware of him I wouldn’t have noticed the slight movement of his hand. A subtle breeze parted the wave of people, creating a clear path between the boy and his frantically searching parents. The father spotted him first and ran to his son with a happy cry.

“Stop dawdling,” Doppelganger-Matt told me gruffly and led me out.

I didn’t say a word when we came out of the building. I also didn’t turn and take off toward the subway. A white limo pulled up to the curb to meet us. Doppelganger-Matt didn’t wait for the driver. Opening the door, he quickly packed me inside.

Inside the limo, he handed me a wrapped sandwich. “Eat.”

“I can’t go to prom—” With you, Vane.

“Don’t worry. You’ll look fine. You have an appointment at a salon in a few minutes.” Taking the sandwich from my hands, he unwrapped it and thrust the bread under my nose. “It’s your favorite.”

It was. Hummus and cucumber on wheat. My stomach grumbled, reminding me that I’d forgotten breakfast. The smell of crisp cucumbers took me back to Sri Lanka for a second. Matt had only fed me under protest. I took a bite of the sandwich. It tasted hot and sweet and freshly made. “How did you know?”

“It’s not hard to remember a sandwich,” he said dryly.

I took another big bite. “What are you eating?”

White teeth flashed briefly. “I ate. Something more substantial than the deer food you like.”

“You like deer,” I commented. Sharp brown eyes fixed on me, and I realized I’d slipped. I wondered if Matt didn’t like deer. The deer was in Vane’s memories. Mentally, I kicked myself. Keeping up the pretense was hard, but I wasn’t ready to confront him. Not yet. I was enjoying having Vane without the baggage. We both needed the charade to continue.

I pointed to three giant, white boxes lying on the seat on the opposite side of the limo. “What’s in the boxes?”

The ploy worked, or he let it. He answered, “Your dresses.”

“Dresses?”

“Three of them. I didn’t know which color you’d like.”

He got me three dresses because he didn’t know which color I’d like. It took me a minute to absorb this. I finished the sandwich in a few quick bites. “Can I see?”

Skeptical eyes swept over the crumbs scattered across my T-shirt. The limo pulled to a stop. He commanded, “Let’s go. You can look at the dresses inside.”

The salon was tucked into the bottom of a brown-brick building. Inside, posh marble floors hummed with busy energy as Saturday evening neared. It took forty-five minutes to do hair and makeup. Doppelganger-Matt spent most of his time tapping the screen on his phone.

“What’s so important?” I asked him.

“The end of the world,” he quipped back without looking up from the screen. “I’ve been trying to get a few things in place for days and it seems to be all coming together today.”

“Everything happens at once.” I stared at myself in the mirror as the makeup artist fluffed my eyelashes to twice their size. “Do you have to leave?”

Part of me wanted him to go. A bigger part of me, the selfish part, ached for one night of normality. I wanted to be with him and told myself one night would be enough.

He didn’t get a chance to answer. The artist put down her brush and swiveled me around to show me off. “She’s a princess.”

Doppelganger-Matt’s head jerked up. Stormy brown eyes fixed on me and widened.

He muttered, “Yes, she is.”

I resisted an urge to undo my tied-up hair. “I want to see the dresses.”

He smiled. The makeup artist led us to a large dressing room tucked at the back of the building. Doppelganger-Matt followed me.

“I’m not going to run out the back door,” I murmured. I might have thought about it.

“You’ll need help buttoning up,” he replied innocently. “You’re still recovering.”

“I’ll manage.” I shut the flimsy dressing room door in his face.

The three boxes were stacked neatly across a bench seat. I opened the first one. A flirty gown of deep green chiffon, the same color as Vane’s vest, lay waiting inside. I tried it on, enjoying the short flowing hem that ended just at the knees. The next box held an equally stunning off-white gown with a corset top and billowing taffeta skirt. I pulled it on, only to yank it off when I heard myself unconsciously humming the wedding march.

I lifted the lid of the last box and tried not to gasp. Carefully, I slipped the slim gown over my head. A low décolletage trimmed with gold emphasized the lines of a purple high-waist gown. Soft silk-faced satin made up a straight skirt. The hem, also trimmed with gold thread, peeked just above the ankles. I opened the door to the dressing room and locked eyes with Vane. He sat in a metal chair just outside.

I smoothed my hand over the front. “It’s gorgeous.”

“Imperial purple with gold trim.” He tucked his phone into his pocket and walked to me. “Why this one?”

“It reminded me of you,” I said simply. The real you. The one I’ve been seeing in bits and pieces of old memories. The one who asked me to choose him.

“Did it?” Desire sparked his eyes, but he didn’t touch me. His hands fisted as if he didn’t dare. It was then I noticed that he’d already changed into a matching purple vest. I frowned. “How did you know?”

I touched the Dragon’s Eye. Had he been peeking without me knowing it?

“I had a feeling,” he answered enigmatically.

I raised a brow. “So you were just testing me with the other colors?”

“Does it matter? You always pass.”

I hadn’t in the maze. My throat dry, I said, “This gown doesn’t scream ‘Under the Sea.’” More like Roman empress.

Instead of replying, Doppelganger-Matt went into the dressing room and returned with a gold mask with a curved fish-scale pattern in one hand. I laughed. “And yours?”

“I have a matching one and a trident.”

I know you do. I took the mask and put it on. I looked at myself in another mirror just outside the dressing room. The mask almost completely obscured my face. Doppelganger-Matt stood behind me and, for a moment, we stood together, both lost in a picture that didn’t reflect either one of us. It should have been sobering; instead it only freed.

From behind his back, Doppelganger-Matt drew out strappy gold sandals and pointed me to a spindly chair. I sat and lifted the hem of the gown. Kneeling down, warm fingers skimmed my skin as he tied the heels to my feet. They fit perfectly, of course.

I stared down at his bent head. I wanted to say something, but the moment felt too delicate for words. Then, he looked up at me. His hand still wrapped around one foot. The skirt fell away from my hand, and from the stormy depths of his eyes shone all the emotions he couldn’t quite bury, the light of his soul that wouldn’t fade and asked for redemption.

From that moment on, I was ensnared. Captured by his spell, I found myself being drawn deep into the night. The limo took us past Fenway Park into historic Back Bay. Darkness descended over the city by the time we came to a stop at the Boston Palace Hotel. Tucked to the side of the hotel, the Imperial Ballroom overlooked a bean-shaped pond framed by weeping willow trees. Five hundred or so kids milled inside the majestic domed ballroom. A photographer clicked a picture of us in front of a life-size painting of a pirate ship with billowed sails.

Blue, green, and yellow strobe lights sparkled off the crystal chandeliers. Two curved staircases led upstairs, where kids over leaned over royal-style balconies on a second story. Floor-to-ceiling windows canvased a midnight-blue sky on one side. On the other side, decorations of sea nymphs and big-eyed mermaids lined the walls. (After all I knew about them, the pictures made me smile.) Circular tables covered with white linen showcased glass centerpieces of pink-and-purple sea anemone.

Half the kids wore masks. Half didn’t. In my daze, I barely noticed the crowd. I smiled and waved, having no idea who was who. Friend and foe, tonight—on this one night—they all mingled together.

On a grand stage above us, the very appropriately named band, The Neptunes, thumped out fast-paced music and lyrics that screamed not to stop until the world ended. Vane drew me out into the middle of the dance floor. A laughing Christine and her date danced on the outskirts. I spotted Ramanajan with one of the young wizards who invaded my house. Gia gave Grey a tentative smile as they moved to the beat. Various friends—Regulars, wizards, and gargoyles—made up the odd crowd, but none of them looked out of place. Their happiness surrounded me.

Then, as if on command, the music slowed.

And all I saw was him.

Beneath the twinkle of a lone chandelier, I pictured Vane’s actual face under the mask. I’d worn a mask at the music festival in Glastonbury. We’d kissed for the first time that night in a smoke-filled basement surrounded by blood-spattered walls. Today, he held me in the middle of a glittering ballroom. Yet, I clearly recalled how he’d taken me into his arms that terror-filled night. How safe I felt in them. The hunger in that first tentative kiss and promises it suggested.

Around us, the song whispered about two souls fated to meet. In the lullaby of the moment, suspended from the present and unmindful of the future, I laid my head against his chest. My cheek pressed into the cool silk of his vest. I listened to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. And there I understood why prom had become so important to us. Something about the last dance before the final act spelled the end of all things and the beginning of new ones.

Matt’s words came back to me.

I stilled in the middle of the dance. The words sounded in my head with desperation. Tell me you haven’t fallen in love with him.

But I had.