The Once and Future Scream Queen: Marlene Ambrosia Mysteries Page 6

  “No. But I know Arthur. I have always known Arthur. And he will always know me.”

  “Ohhhhh … kay.”

  “Marlene Ambrosia, do you know who I am?”

  “You call yourself Merlin. And you kind of look like that old wizard from that one King Arthur movie I saw…”

  “Do you know who you are?”

  Marlene rubbed her forehead. She was really tired and now just wanted to go to bed. The old man was crazy, but harmless from what she could tell. And besides, she was probably just imagining all this anyway. She’d probably wake up tomorrow with a hangover.

  “I’m Marlene Ambrosia.” She got up off the couch on tired legs. “Now come on, time for you to go.”

  “Marlene,” Merlin said. “You are me.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You are the Merlin of this time. Don’t you understand?”

  “Not even a little bit.” She yawned.

  “Typical woman.” He shook his head.

  Marlene had had enough of the woman-bashing. She reached and tried to push him, forgetting he wasn’t really there.

  Except this time, her hands touched his arm somehow, and her shove knocked the old man off-balance. He cursed in surprise and landed on the couch.

  Eleven

  “Sorry!” Marlene rushed to help, afraid she’d hurt the old guy. She didn’t want him breaking a hip and then suing her. Though he was trespassing, he could always play the crazy card in front of a jury. Oh, the sweet old man was just confused and the young, vibrant woman overreacted instead of just phoning the police … But Merlin waved her away and got back on his feet.

  “Listen to me, woman. This is important.”

  “My name is Marlene. Not woman.”

  He ignored her anger. “You have a great responsibility. Your Arthur—”

  “He’s not my Arthur,” Marlene said, but she found herself wondering what it would be like to date him. “We just went to school together.”

  “Shut up and let me ask what I must ask.”

  “Nice manners.”

  Merlin groaned. “Ohhh, I don’t have time to worry about your precious, delicate, feminine feelings. Now just listen and answer. It is imperative. Your Arthur—he is a great warrior, true?”

  “He goes by Artie,” Marlene said. Now that she looked at the old man, she noticed his high cheekbones as well and his nose was long and slightly curved in the same way hers was. There was something familiar about his eyes as well. “And I don’t know if he was a great warrior.”

  “You must find out!” Merlin practically yelled. “And your Artie—he is a great leader, is it true?”

  “He got elected because he was the most popular kid in high school and spent the last ten years serving his country.”

  “Elected.” Merlin made a face. “The worst, most inefficient political system ever. Tell me, is America still a democratic republic in this time?”

  “You keep referring to your time and comparing it to this time …” Marlene’s voice trailed off. She was beginning to think this old man was real and that everything he said, even though it was ridiculous, was true as well. “Wait—are you saying that America won’t be like this in the future?”

  He ignored her question. “I live approximately sixteen hundred years before you.”

  It hurt to do the mental math. “But how are you here?”

  “I am here, but I’m not really here. Now be quiet. What I’m about to tell you is important.”

  “What is it?”

  “Only your destiny.” Merlin looked to his left, as if checking for something. When he turned back to her, his face had a determined look. “You will advise Arthur Ryan. You will be behind the man, whispering in his ear, always steering him toward right and away from wrong.”

  “You want me to be Artie’s life coach?”

  “Life coach?” His head shook. “What is a life coach?”

  “That’s a … never mind. Now look. I have to ask you some qu—”

  There was a knock at her door. Marlene frowned. It was really late to receive any visitors.

  The old man looked her in the eye. “It is imperative that you help Arthur become a great leader. The fate of the world hangs in the balance.”

  “Don’t even think about leaving right now, buddy. I’ve got a million questions you need to answer.”

  “You are the Merlin,” he said. “You are.”

  Then he was gone.

  Marlene was left wondering if she’d imagined it all. Then her phone rang.

  Twelve

  Marlene’s mother said, “Happy Birthday!”

  “Hey, Mom! Thanks for calling.”

  How could she have forgotten? Mom called her every year on this day, at exactly this time. Down to the minute of Marlene’s birth.

  She wanted to ask Mom about the photograph Ganny had found in the few things Mom had left behind.

  But there was another knock at the door.

  “Mom, can I call you right back?” She looked toward the foyer. “There’s somebody at the door.”

  “I hope he’s good-looking.”

  Marlene almost said, He is. But she wasn’t interested in Artie like that.

  “I’ll call you in a couple days. Okay, Mom?”

  “I love you, Marlene.”

  “Love you too.”

  ***

  She spied through the peephole. Artie Ryan stood outside, smiling. He was still wearing his dress shirt, though now his five o’clock shadow was in full bloom. A bit of dark stubble actually looked good on him.

  Marlene was surprised at how happy she was to see him. She chalked the unexpected feeling up to the overall strangeness of the day. Gwen O’Vear’s murder had cast a pall over everything, Marlene’s business had taken several hits recently, and Artie’s visit was just a pleasant diversion from all those things.

  She opened the door. Not that she was interested in Artie Ryan, but she thought about how long it had been since a man had been inside her house. Longer than she wanted to admit. Though she had been in only a few relationships, all of them had been serious and intense.

  Artie stood on the front step, hands in his pockets.

  “Hi, Artie.”

  There was a new chill in the air. Marlene thought she smelled something rotting from far away.

  The smell gave her a very bad feeling.

  All of a sudden she didn’t want to invite Artie inside. It was late and she didn’t know him that well. She found herself wondering if the neighbors could hear a scream from a half mile away.

  Probably not …

  Artie looked past her, into the house. “Hey, Marlene. I’ve been thinking …” His eyes drifted back to hers, a smile playing on his lips. “Do you mind if I come in so we can talk?”

  On one level, she knew she could invite him in. Nothing was going to happen. Artie had admitted to a crush years ago, but that didn’t mean he was going to try something all these years later.

  But on another level, she wanted to slam the door shut. That vague, but undeniable bad feeling weighed on her. She felt sick to her stomach. It was that rotten smell drifting to the house. She imagined a dead animal in the woods, its carcass picked over. Her stomach did a little flip.

  “Marlene, are you okay?” He looked really concerned. She must have been a sight.

  “Sorry.” She smiled sweetly. “I’m not feeling well and I was just about to turn in. How about I stop by your office tomorrow?”

  His smile dissolved, and his face grew stony. Marlene backed away a step suddenly terrified of this man.

  Sword.

  Marlene wasn’t sure if she’d heard someone say the word, or if she’d just thought it. But as soon as she heard or thought or whatevered it, the man standing before her took his hands out of his pockets.

  He flicked both wrists and a couple switchblades shot out. Marlene took another step back.

  SWORD!

  Marlene was as confused as she was terrified. The man was holding two knives,
not a sword. And she didn’t have a sword—

  Everything happened in slow motion next. The man’s arm shot out, the blade aimed at her midsection. Marlene gripped her cell phone, willing it to turn back into that strange sword from earlier. And a brown and white blur knocked into Artie’s head.

  Except it wasn’t Artie anymore.

  It was a man dressed in a black hooded pullover and a pair of black jeans. Marlene realized the blur was her new best friend, the owl that had made his home underground in her flower bed out front. The man tipped backward and brought his hands up defensively, trying to slash at the bird.

  Now that his disguise was gone, the rotten stench intensified and choked her. Marlene wanted to bend over and puke.

  But she was too busy screaming something—even she didn’t know what. She didn’t want the owl to get hurt, but there wasn’t much she could do about it. Her cell phone was still her cell phone, and she had never learned to fight, let alone disarm a man intent on hurting her.

  The owl clawed at the man’s face. Its talons scratched his cheek. The man yelped. With one hand, he grabbed one of the owl’s legs. Marlene saw what was going to happen next. He would hold the bird in place and stab it.

  “NOOOO!”

  She stepped forward and kicked him as hard as she could in the stomach. The man was momentarily distracted and let go of the owl. The bird flew out of his reach and hovered.

  SWORD!

  Marlene turned to the owl. She was pretty sure it had just spoken to her. She was pretty sure—now—it had been trying to communicate with her this morning.

  “I don’t have a sword!”

  The man scrambled backward and climbed to his feet. He still had both knives. In the darkness, she could barely make out his face.

  Yes, you do!

  Marlene held her cell phone out, but nothing happened. “See?”

  The owl flapped its wings. “You’re the Merlin!”

  “Apparently.”

  The man drew one leg backward and leaned his torso forward. He was getting ready to charge. Marlene couldn’t really see his face, but she could somehow see his eyes. They were dark and bottomless.

  “Picture it in your mind!” the owl said.

  Marlene imagined the sword in her hand. She felt the cell phone stretching and narrowing into a hilt. The sword extended, its blade growing until the edge curved to meet the point.

  She was imagining this in her mind, but it was also happening in reality. Marlene held a sword!

  The man didn’t charge. His dark eyes narrowed to slits as they flicked back and forth from her face to the blade. Marlene held it out in front of her, while the owl continued to hover next to her.

  “Soon, Merlin,” the man said. His voice was between a whisper and a hiss.

  “Soon what?”

  The man didn’t answer. His body began to blur until it turned into a bunch of crows. The birds cawed wickedly at her and the owl, but quickly dispersed.

  ***

  Marlene literally invited the owl in.

  It shook its tiny head, which was pretty impressive since it could turn its head two-hundred and seventy degrees.

  “No thank you. I don’t do houses.”

  Marlene gave the little guy a disbelieving look. “Come on. I owe you for helping me out here.”

  “It was my destiny.”

  She couldn’t believe she was talking to an owl. Or that people—never mind owls—could have destinies.

  But at this point, after this morning’s murder, this evening’s visit by a sixteen-hundred-year-old wizard, and the attempt on her life by a man that had turned into a bunch of crows, Marlene was just going with the flow.

  The owl padded along quickly to her threshold and looked inside. “I really don’t like houses. They’re too claustrophobic.”

  Marlene pointed at the flower bed. “Claustrophobic? You live underground. Which, by the way, is very weird behavior for an owl.”

  The bird raised a wing like it was raising a hand. “Hello? Burrowing owl here?”

  “You’re a burrowing owl?” Marlene asked. “Is there such a thing?”

  She thought he rolled his eyes. “Not all of us live in barns or in trees, you know.”

  “But how do you …” A chill ran through her, and Marlene felt like she was being watched. “I am not staying out here. That man just tried to kill me! What if he comes back?”

  “That was no man.” The owl leaned farther in to the house to look around. “And he won’t be back tonight.”

  “How do you know?”

  “He knows now you’re protected here and that trick won’t work again.”

  “Protected by you?”

  Without turning his body, the owl looked back at her. He nearly turned his head all the way around.

  “And others.”

  “Okay, you’re creeping me out with the Exorcist routine.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Never mind. Just come inside.”

  The owl looked inside one more time. “Okay, but only if you open a couple windows for me.”

  “Fine.”

  She ushered the owl in and locked the door. The owl wandered through the foyer. She was surprised at how quickly it could walk.

  “Can I get you anything? Maybe milk?”

  “I’m not a cat.” The owl gave her a look. “And besides, cow milk is bad for cats. Don’t ever give it to them.”

  “I knew that,” Marlene said. “I read it somewhere.”

  The owl stopped in the kitchen. “Do you have any mice?”

  “Not intentionally,” Marlene said. “Though I’m sure there are plenty outside.”

  The owl’s beak twitched. “I smell them. They’re here.”

  “Thanks for putting that thought into my head.” Now Marlene’s skin was crawling. She was going to have a hard enough time falling asleep tonight without worrying about mice running around inside her house. They grossed her out.

  “You’re welcome,” the owl said, not picking up on her sarcasm.

  “So.”

  “So.” The owl took a couple really quick steps and pumped its wings. It launched itself onto the kitchen counter, landing expertly on the edge and turning to face her. Marlene’s first thought: Now I have to clean the counter before I go to bed.

  “Okay,” Marlene said. “So I guess I’ll go first.”

  “That would be the polite thing to do,” the owl said.

  She shot him a death stare. “I’m Marlene Ambrosia, and I, uh, live here.”

  “I know that,” the owl said. “Tell me how you are related to the Merlin.”

  “Wait—you called me the Merlin outside. Now you’re asking how I’m related to him?”

  “Same difference,” the owl said. “And please, can you open a couple windows? The walls are starting to close in.”

  “Just a crack,” Marlene said. “I don’t want that weirdo to come back.”

  “I already told you, he won’t come back tonight,” the owl said.

  Marlene didn’t argue. She stepped into the living room and opened two windows a few inches. A cool breeze flowed into the house.

  “That’s much better.”

  The owl had silently followed her in to the living room and was now perched on the sofa. It flapped its wings a few times.

  “Do you have a name?” Marlene asked.

  “Cromwell.”

  “Is that your first or last name?”

  “Owls only have one name.”

  “Oh. Sorry.” She couldn’t take much more of this. “Okay, Cromwell. I’ve had a long, crazy day. So if you’ll explain to me how you and I are having this conversation right now, I’d really appreciate it.”

  “Don’t you know?” the owl asked. “You’re the Merlin.”

  “I just found that out also,” Marlene said. “About twenty minutes ago.”

  “What? You mean you didn’t know who you were?”

  “That’s right.”

  The owl paus
ed to think about this. “That explains why you didn’t answer me this morning.”

  “You were trying to talk to me.”

  “I was trying to warn you. I had sensed his darkness and feared he would strike.”

  “Wait a minute—you knew that man was trying to hurt me?”

  “Kill you,” the owl said, matter-of-factly. “And of course I knew. You are of the light. And life. The Merlin possesses more life force than all others. It is your destiny to challenge the darkness.”

  “My destiny?” Marlene’s head was practically spinning. “I saw him this morning when I got to my office. He was—”

  “What?”

  “He must have killed Gwen O’Vear!” Marlene said. “That’s it! Maybe he was waiting for me. Gwen got there before me and maybe she caught him so he had to … you know.”

  Cromwell just stared at her.

  “Oh, don’t stop talking now. I was just getting used to the idea of a talking owl.”

  “I was thinking.” The owl fell silent again. “Have you never seen this man before?”

  “Not till this morning,” Marlene said. “All these things can’t be coincidences. Gwen dies, I see him there, I meet Merlin, I start talking to you … this must be happening for a reason.”

  It took her a moment to realize the owl was nodding. “Yes. There is a reason behind all things. Did Merlin share your destiny with you?”

  “He told me I had to help Arthur Ryan because the fate of the world depended upon it.” She shrugged. “Or something like that.”

  “Yes,” Cromwell said. “It is the fate of every Merlin to help Arthur become a great leader.”

  “Who was this guy that attacked me?”

  “He has had many names.”

  “Could you narrow it down to a few for me?”

  Cromwell looked around. “This place is pretty nice. For a house, I mean.”

  “Thanks.” She had a million questions and didn’t know where to start. “How did you know I could turn my phone into a sword?”

  “The Merlin holds power over Excalibur until Arthur is worthy enough to claim it.”

  “I’m not giving Artie my cell phone.”

  “Of course not!” Cromwell said, like she was a complete idiot. “But one day he will claim Excalibur.”