Bryan Davis - Eye of the Oracle

“Fathers?” the first man rejoined. “I feel like the poor mother!”

Patrick rapped his knuckles on the table. “Gentlemen! Please!”

The men murmured for a few seconds, and when all was quiet, Patrick again gestured for Charles to sit.

Professor Hamilton nodded and sat down. “Thank you, Sir Patrick.”

Patrick folded his hands. “Since we consider ourselves equals, Charles, we normally dispense with titles that indicate superiority. I realize my knighthood is significant to you, but I am merely called Steward. You will learn the others’ titles in due time.”

“Very well. What shall I be called?”

Elam leaned over and whispered in Patrick’s ear. “Merlin.”

Patrick’s face brightened. “Of course. Merlin!”

“Merlin?” Professor Hamilton repeated. “Why Merlin?”

Patrick glanced at Elam but quickly returned his gaze to Professor Hamilton. “It seems to me that you are as gifted in spiritual matters as anyone I know. Your heart for God reflects the legends of the great prophet of old.”

Professor Hamilton’s face flushed. “I am grateful for your confidence in me,” he said, fidgeting in his chair.

“Merlin,” Patrick continued. “As you know, we are the protectorate of the Arthur legacy, and we wish to make his heir’s ascendancy to the throne an easy path. Since you are the newest member, it is your privilege to investigate the latest report of a possible heir and either verify or falsify his pedigree.”

Professor Hamilton bowed his head. “I am honored.”

“Not if he sends you to Alaska,” Kaplan said. “That’s where I went on my wild goose chase when I joined.”

Patrick rapped his knuckles again. “Not Alaska, but you will have to visit the States West Virginia, to be precise.”

“Very well.” Professor Hamilton folded his hands and nodded. “What information do you have?”

Patrick withdrew a small map from his jacket and spread it out on the table. “Our intelligence is based on the movements of our enemies, and one of their prominent agents has set up residence in Castlewood, West Virginia.” He pointed at a spot on the map. “Our spy believes the agent is seeking information about a young person, perhaps a pre-teen or teenager.”

Leaning close, Professor Hamilton touched the edge of the map. “Then securing a position at a local school would be an optimum plan of action. My credentials should suffice.”

Patrick touched a ring on the professor’s finger. “The officials might wonder why an Oxford professor would want to teach there, so you should prepare a convincing explanation.”

Elam edged to the table and tried to read the emblem on the bejeweled gold band. It appeared to be etched with Latin words signifying the professor’s achievement in college Philosophi? Doctor.

“I would simply tell the truth,” Professor Hamilton said. “I have always been interested in Arthurian legend, especially the stories surrounding Excalibur, and my research has led me to Castlewood. I doubt that anyone would question me beyond that.”

“True enough, I suppose.” Patrick folded the map and returned it to his jacket. “If you find the heir, and you are convinced of his authenticity, bring him back to me. There is a test he must pass to prove that he is worthy in mind, body, and spirit. I won’t divulge the nature of the test at this time so that you can honestly say you don’t know what it is.”

Professor Hamilton withdrew a pocket calendar and opened it to the current date. “Is there a suggested timetable?”

“You are to leave immediately and bring him back as soon as you have him in hand. Since our opposition seeks to thwart Arthur’s return, their agent will not have the heir’s best interests in mind.”

Kaplan stood at his place. “Merlin, all jesting aside, I, for one, welcome you with open arms. Our jocularity has no real reflection on our sincere wish to fill our empty chair with the one true king. If you should find him, we are willing to lay down our lives to assure his ascendancy.”

“So say we all!” the first man shouted, now standing next to Kaplan.

The other two men stood with them. “Hear, hear!”

Patrick slowly rose to his feet and nodded at Professor Hamilton. “What say you, my old friend?”

Professor Hamilton slid back his chair and stood with the rest. “If Arthur’s heir is in West Virginia, then I will not rest until I bring him to this very room.”

December 30, 2002

Gabriel followed Bonnie as she tiptoed down the stairs. When she neared the bottom, she peered over the banister, her hiking backpack shifting with the movement of her hidden wings. With no one in sight, she skulked toward the front door.

All was quiet. Gabriel zoomed down the hall to the laboratory and sneaked a look through the open doorway. Just as Bonnie had feared, Dr. Conner sat at a table next to a collection of glass vials and a set of hypodermic needles. He marked one of the vials with a Sharpie, then scratched down an entry in a logbook. Gabriel glided back to Bonnie and mentally shoved her toward the exit. Maybe she would be able to get away before her father had a chance to find her.

As her hand touched her coat on the wall rack, the telephone rang. Bonnie froze in midstep. Dr. Conner breezed into the front room, holding a mobile phone to his ear. “Yes, Dr. George.” He pulled out a desk drawer and withdrew a thin stack of paper. “I have the test results right here. There is no doubt about the findings. My wife’s blood definitely has the allele we discussed.” He nodded and dropped the stack on top of the desk. “That’s right. An anthrozil. . Yes, I’ll bring the samples to you tonight. . That late?. . Sure. I guess I can do that.” He glanced at Bonnie, and the color in his cheeks suddenly drained away. “Dr. George, I have to go. I’ll see you at my office.”

Bonnie lifted her cell phone. “Daddy, Mama called. I’m supposed to meet her downtown. She’s taking me shopping for my birthday.”

“Oh. Your birthday. Right.” Dr. Conner ran his fingers through his short nap of red hair, keeping his eyes from direct contact with Bonnie’s. “That can wait. I just need a couple of minutes.”

Bonnie shuddered. “But you said you’d never ”

“I know what I said.” He grabbed her wrist, tightly at first, but his grip slowly eased. “This really is the last time. I promise.”

Bonnie pulled in her bottom lip and stared at her father. A tear welled in her eye. Finally, she whispered a shaky, “Okay,” and followed him toward the laboratory.

Gabriel stalked behind them, his energy field flashing. Bonnie was no guinea pig! If only there was a way to stop this madness! He could plug himself in somewhere and short circuit the lights, but that wouldn’t last longer than the time it took to flip the circuit breaker, and the shock would paralyze him for hours. What else could he possibly do?

When they reached the lab, Dr. Conner picked up a hypodermic needle. “You know the drill, Bonnie. It’s just a prick.”

As Bonnie pushed her sleeve up, her hand quivered. She picked up a rubber ball from a letter basket, laid her arm on the table, and squeezed so tightly, her forearm muscles bulged.

Dr. Conner tied a rubber band around her upper arm and swabbed the tender flesh in the crook. As the needle drew near, she closed her eyes and turned her head, her whole body trembling.

Gabriel caressed her skin at the needle’s entry point. It poked a tiny hole in the midst of a dozen or more minute white scars. Dr. Conner attached a collection tube to the needle, and as blood began to flow, he unfastened the band and tossed it to the lab table. “Just a few more seconds, and I’ll be finished.”