Shades of Avalon (14 page)

I didn’t, but I wasn’t about to argue. I shrugged and leaned down to kiss her again. Our connection burned like two flickering flames coming together and becoming bigger, stronger, and brighter upon joining…

“Do you want to go to bed?” Amanda’s voice snapped me back to the present. I kissed the top of her head, burying my nose in her hair for a moment and inhaling the scent of vanilla and sunflowers.

“Do you?” she mumbled.

“I fine here. I don’t think I could sleep now if I wanted to.”

“I’m just fine here too.” She shuffled up and kissed my neck. “What’s going on?”

“More crazy.”

Amanda giggled. Sleep thickened the texture of her voice, rounding the sound to an older tenor. “That goes without saying, babe. Are you sure you don’t want to go to bed? I could distract you.”

I smiled. As good as distraction sounded, I couldn’t do that to Amanda. She deserved more than half my attention. “This isn’t how I imagined our married life would begin. I’m sorry. I want to make you happy, and I’m not doing a good job.”

She pushed herself up from my chest with two hands and blinked a couple of times trying to focus on my eyes. Amanda stroked her fingers across my cheek and over my jaw. “Despite the crazy, I am happy.”

I shook my head dismissively and opened my mouth to disagree. How could anyone be happy in this mess? My heart beat faster as I stared into her brown eyes as if to prove the thought wrong. I shouldn’t be happy, but I was. I pushed the feeling down, attempting to smother it with guilt about the life I introduced Amanda to. I shouldn’t have allowed the jolt of comfort and peace Amanda’s touch brought.

Amanda maneuvered upright and threw one leg across my hip to sit on my lap. She placed her hands on my cheeks and held my face still, forcing me to look at her. My love weighed nothing in my arms, and I suspected she’d lost weight over the last couple of days.

“I am happy because I’m with you, and I’m grateful for it,” she assured me earnestly, a determined defiance in her expression. “I mean it. Do you remember when we agreed I should move to London with Triona?”

I forced out a laugh though the memory of that decision caused a sick numbness to well up in my stomach like a balloon inflating. “I thought I would go crazy when you left.”

“I thought you would go crazy if Triona stayed and you had to see her grieving over Caleb any longer. I saw how it killed you to watch little pieces of her slipping away. But, leaving you was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Then you stopped calling, and you wouldn’t take my calls—”

“I’m sorry,” I cut her off. That was the morning I woke up to see a different person looking back at me from the mirror. My skin texture, my eyes, my hair…everything changed overnight because my Guardian DNA was jumpstarted. Full-blooded Guardians had years to adjust. For me it was agony and so disorienting. I cried in Lewis’s arms, forcing him to comfort me like a little kid—all two hundred and thirty-nine pounds of me. The pain and fear morphed into conceit when I realized the extent of the changes to my life and how special they made me. “With my transition and learning everything about my family, there was so much going on, and I didn’t know how to explain because I didn’t understand it myself.”

“I know. It’s okay. It’s okay.” Her hands drifted from the sides of my face to my throat where my blood pulsed against her palm. She had to feel it too. “I thought I’d lost you.” Her voice caught on the words and her eyes shone with moisture. Amanda sniffled and went on. “Some nights I’d lie in bed, and I couldn’t breathe. So I can appreciate the time we have, and I can be happy, even when we don’t know what the heck else is going on around us, okay?”

Tears spilled over, and she smiled through them. I swiped them away with my thumb.

“I love you, Ben. Even when I’m mad at you, I still love you. I’m happy we’re together right now.”

“What would I do without you?” I asked, smiling back at her. My eyes stung as a wave of crippling fear swept through me. Those moments when I held her lifeless body would forever haunt me. Despite hearing her heartbeat and feeling her breath on my skin now, I could imagine being without them and the vacuum of emptiness she would leave behind.

“You won’t ever have to find out.”

“But—”

She flattened her fingers against my lips. “You won’t ever have to find out,” she told me sternly. “Now let’s go to bed. You’re wiped out, and that’s not going to help you think straight.”

Amanda grinned and removed her fingers, replacing them with her soft lips.

Chapter 11

Camelot

A
FTER
B
REAKFAST
T
HE
F
OLLOWING
M
ORNING
, Amanda, Guinevere, and I borrowed John’s car, a sturdy, black hatchback. We headed southwest out of London toward the small town of South Cadbury in Somerset.

Given the imminent increase to our numbers, we agreed removing ourselves from an urban population would be for the best. John and Emma were taking Triona to a family home in the very north of England, not far from the Scottish border. Guinevere suggested it as the best location based on our options. She also suggested we stay on the roads, avoiding closed spaces with lots of humans—like trains and airplanes. If Zeal did attack, we didn’t want witnesses. Samuel and Annice would meet us there while Joshua and Eila planned to stay in Egypt in case Guinevere was mistaken about finding answers at Cadbury Castle.

“So much for sticking together,” I said, glancing at Guinevere in the rearview mirror. We’d been driving in relative silence for over two hours, punctuated only by Amanda humming along to the radio every now and then.

Guinevere watched the countryside whizz by with more interest than warranted, leading me to suspect she was still holding back.

Amanda cupped my hand on top of the gearstick and flashed a brief comforting smile.

“This is necessary. We don’t want to overwhelm him.”

“You think meeting a couple of extra people will be the tipping point?” I scoffed.

Amanda shifted in her seat and tugged at her seatbelt to twist toward the back of the car. “Are you ill, Guinevere?” she asked with a direct tone, catching me a little off guard.

Guinevere didn’t bat an eyelid, appearing to ignore the sharpness in the question. “No. I am quite well. Thank you.”

“Oh, I wondered because you needed to stop at that hospital, and you came out with that bag.”

I presumed Amanda referred to the small white bag beside Guinevere. A rattle followed the sound of crumpled paper, as though Guinevere’s hand unconsciously sought it out.

“They aren’t for me,” she answered smoothly, giving us more information than she had an hour ago when she’d brushed off our questions.

“They?” Amanda pushed.

“Another necessity.”

“Oh, okay, like the clothes.”

“Yes,” Guinevere said without a hint of emotion.

In my limited experience, the one thing more worrisome than someone exhibiting high emotion was someone exhibiting none.

Amanda rotated back in her seat with a set jaw and met my eyes for an instant.

“I never thought of Triona going for the guys who drive the shiny cars,” I observed off-hand and ran my fingers over the steering wheel controls of the keyless car.

In high school we referred to a certain type of guy that way. Usually they were the sons of indulgent rich daddies, and they were destined to buy their way into nice colleges and go into the family business. One in particular pestered Triona to distraction early in our senior year. Chris made a nuisance of himself and then tried to ruin Triona’s reputation when she turned him down. I was surprised when she took up with Caleb with his flashy cars and bags of money.

“It’s just a nice Honda, Ben, and I don’t really think Triona is ‘going for’ John. She loves Caleb.”

“Are you sure? When you lived in London, you were convinced she’d end up with John.”

Amanda frowned, peering ahead. “Yes.” Her head shook side to side, just a tiny amount, and almost like she was subconsciously disagreeing with herself.

I couldn’t claim to understand Triona’s feelings for John. I’d never loved anyone but Amanda, and despite Triona’s assertions that she didn’t love John, I suspected otherwise. Some part of her did, even if she tried her best to keep it buried.

“Besides,” Amanda continued, “we could argue you’re sort of one of those guys now. You have family money and a nice car.”

Rain gathered on the windshield, and I flicked the wipers onto the lowest setting. “I’m way too nice to be one of
those
guys.” Although, John didn’t seem like one either.

Amanda snorted a laugh. “Most of
those
guys weren’t even
those
guys. If anything, we are walking, breathing evidence that you can’t possibly know what’s really going on in someone’s life.”

“We’re almost there,” Guinevere interrupted. “Drive through the village, and continue until you see the church—there’s a car park just beyond. There should be a sign for the path. After that, I’m just as unfamiliar with the area as you. It’s been a long time since I’ve gone further…” She trailed off, seemingly lost in her memories.

When she didn’t continue, I prompted, “Then how do you know you’ll be able to find the right spot?”

Guinevere caught my eye in the mirror, and a lazy smile stretched her lips. “I won’t need to. Excalibur will guide me. The memory of the same magic is buried deep within its blade.”

I found the small parking area just where Guinevere said it would be, bizarrely occupied by a couple of chickens wandering about. Perhaps residents of a nearby farm. There was only one other car, and a sign detailing the history of the immediate area of Cadbury Castle. I gave it no more than a passing glance, trusting Guinevere would tell us anything we needed to know while here. I inhaled the morning air, catching a lungful of
eau de manure
thickly mixed with the scents of early spring grass and the metallic aftertaste of recent rain. I looked up to the overcast sky, spotting gaps in the bleak cloud cover—gray cotton candy melting under the warmth of the emerging pale sun.

“Aren’t you afraid you stand out a bit much in that outfit?” I asked Guinevere as she stepped out of the car. She fixed the scabbard by her hip under a long leather coat covering skintight leather pants and boots with straps that wound all the way from her heels to knees.

“Aren’t you?” she retorted with a sharply arched eyebrow and chuckled.

I looked down at my Windjammers hoodie and jeans under a dark blue padded jacket.

“Your clothes scream American tourist.” It wasn’t a compliment.

“While your clothes scream medieval bandit. I think it’s safe to say they see more of my type than yours around here.”

“Then we should move this along,” she suggested, stuffing the white bag into a satchel and fixing the shoulder strap over her head and across her chest.

“Why are you antagonizing her?” Amanda whispered and slipped her hand into mine.

“It’s not intentional.” I shrugged.

We followed Guinevere up a sloping path to a gate and passed through into a densely wooded area where the land inclined more. The sodden ground and gnarled roots poking out of the earth made each step treacherous, as did Guinevere’s haste. Amanda pointed at patches of emerging yellow flowers scattered around us. I didn’t recognize them, but I knew the bluebells on the verge of blooming.

“It’s pretty here,” she commented.

Guinevere tossed a glance over her shoulder. “Primroses,” she explained. “In another month or so, the entire area will be awash with colors. Camelot was beautiful in springtime.”

I knew something of the beauty of colors from Maine and its forever-changing kaleidoscope from one season to the next. I often wondered what it was like for Triona to see colors around people as she did. It must have been like a kind of synesthesia, where the neural pathways became stimulated in such a way that one sense invoked a response from another. Words might have genuine flavor, not just metaphorical, and in Triona’s case, emotions took on color. Perhaps she possessed a heightened empathy, and the way her body interpreted the emotion was through color. It had never occurred to me before.
There might be something to Guinevere’s theory of magic and science after all
.

After a time, and an uphill climb all the way, the trees broke and thick foliage gave way to a vast grassy plateau. Amanda dropped my hand, her jaw slack and her lips parted. The full expanse of the surrounding vista unfurled before my eyes like a great bird spreading its wings and taking flight. A flash of hidden memory prickled at the back of my mind. Tír na nÓg had to have been like this, and I wished my recollections of the Otherworld weren’t so faded. I wished it could be more than pins and needles inside my skull.

“So this is Camelot?” Amanda asked.

The only other visitor was a man walking over on the far side of the hilltop. His back was hunched with age, and he held a cane, sweeping it forward with each step. A small dog scampered after him. They were too far away to hear our conversation.