Elvendude (11 page)

Adam woke in his bedroom, fully clothed, lying on his bed. He wanted to believe that what he saw was a dream; no, not a dream, a nightmare.

I was trying to get laid. And Moira turned into an alien.

Voices filtered in from the living room. Moira's, and another, a male voice.

". . . should have waited until after Lady Samantha broke the spell before dismissing the glamories," the man said with an actor's voice that reverberated throughout the house. "But at least you brought him here, to the Gate. Does he know anything yet?"

Adam propped himself up on his elbows.
I just woke. Or did I? This sounds like part two of
Nightmare On Elm Street.
Or
Close Encounters of the Third Kind.

"I don't think so," Moira said, her words softer and difficult to hear. "I've been with him since the King Gated us to this human realm, and from the first moment we assumed our identities, he was completely ignorant of his elven identity. I just hope he recovers soon."

Adam moved to his feet and silently crept to the door.

"Lady Samantha works effective spells. Where is she now?"

"Dealing with a potential Unseleighe infestation," she said. Adam understood none of it.
Mother's a cop, not an exterminator. What in the world are they talking about?

They whispered something among themselves, then became silent.

"Adam. Come in here," the man said loudly. "We have a great deal to discuss."

Geez! How did they know I was awake?

He considered bolting through the window, but by the time he got the outer screen off, they would have caught him, or whatever. Besides, he wanted to know what was going on.
Moira and a stranger are in our house. I'm going to find out how he got in here, and what he wants.

"Adam, there is an explanation for what you saw," Moira said. The hair on the back of his neck stood erect.

Taking a deep breath, he walked down the hallway and stopped at the edge of the living room, then peered around the corner.

Moira and a strange man sat on the couch, opposite the home theater system. Neither seemed particularly alarmed that he was awake. In fact, they seemed eager to talk to him. Moira's eyes and ears were the same as he remembered from the nightmare. The stranger, who was a large blond man, had the same features, though his pointed ears looked to be much longer. He seemed older, too, as did his dress. His right arm had been bandaged with gauze between the elbow and shoulder, and a bit of blood showed through. Aside from that, he looked like he'd just walked out of a fifteenth-century portrait.

The rest of the living room seemed normal. In the center, facing each other, were two gray couches and a matching chair. The coffee table was a solid cube of granite, decorated with a vase of lilies and a china tray of empty lead crystal liquor decanters. An antique buffet with its usual collection of art deco bric-a-brac lined one wall, and a long mirror framed with flowery Greek columns hung over it. Overhead a 1930s ceiling fan turned placidly on its lowest setting. The room had its usual cozy charm, which was spoiled by the two aliens now occupying it.

He closed his eyes, leaned against the hallway wall, and slid down into a crouch.

"I'm not seeing this," he moaned to no one in particular.

"
Adam,
" Moira said sharply. "Quit being silly. Get in here."

"Lady Ethlinn," the man gasped. "Dare you speak to King Aedham that way?"

"This is a drastic situation. He will understand, once he returns to his normal self."

Adam opened his eyes against his will, stood, and entered the living room. The man and Moira sat comfortably on the couch as if they belonged there; he felt a twinge of jealousy that, given the strange circumstances, seemed completely out of place.

"Sit," Moira said.

"No," he said resolutely. "Not until you tell me what's going on." He peered at Moira and rubbed his eyes. "What happened to you?"

"Perhaps we should tell you," the man said, "what happened to
you.
"

As the man spoke, Adam realized he simply could not be a human being. Not only did he speak with a deep, bass voice, it had a metallic ring to it.
A robot? An android? A Vulcan? What is he?

The man turned to Moira, looking annoyed. "Lady Samantha should be here to dismiss the spell. As long as he remains human, it will be impossible to convince him who he really is."

"I know it would have been better," Moira said apologetically. "But she simply could not be here. Remember, we are having to maintain our human covers, as well as watch for the Unseleighe. Samantha was doing both."

Are they talking about my mother?
he thought.
She's the only Samantha I know.
Then,
Someone must have slipped me some LSD. This is a very real, vivid hallucination, caused by drugs.
He focused on the man's pointed ears.
It's the only explanation.

"This isn't real," Adam said simply. "I'm going to close my eyes. And when I open them, you're going to be gone."

Adam closed his eyes. When he opened them, they were still sitting there.

"Young King," the man said, "I know this must be a shock, but please listen to me." He stood, towering above Adam like a giant, having a good six inches or more on him. Adam took a few steps back, then stood firm. This was, after all, his house, and this man was an unwelcome intruder. But this intruder wore a period costume, straight out of the Middle Ages, or perhaps from the distant future. The tunic was a light tan, with tight-fitting sleeves pulled back over his thick, muscular forearms, and folds that covered his waist. A thick leather belt secured loose trousers of the same, linenlike material. His boots were black leather, and gold embroidery trimmed the edges of sleeves and boot cuffs; in all, a striking outfit. But in Adam's home, it was completely out of place.

At first glance the intruder reminded him of Prince Valiant in the old Sunday edition cartoons. He had a strong, handsome face, with all the stereotypic lines of a heroic figure. His eyes were emerald and slitted, just as Moira's continued to be. Pointed ears protruded from his blond, shoulder-length hair like antennas.

Moira looked on with concern, all the sexiness she'd radiated during the ride over here now gone, replaced by this insane mixture of stage costuming and special-effects makeup.

"Please believe me," the man said, his arms spread in a gesture of pleading. "While I don't expect you to remember, I am Marbann of Avalon, faithful subject of the Tuiereann Crown. I fear I come with sad news." He looked down, his posture radiating grief. "Your father is dead. The Unseleighe murdered him shortly after they invaded the castle."

Adam laughed. "My father is in Canada. Marbann of what? Avalon? What is that, an insane asylum?"

Marbann ignored him. "Since the King is slain, you are the new King of Avalon. I have come to serve you."

Adam crossed his arms and regarded him with cool skepticism.

"The Gate through which I passed is located in yon glass screen," he said, pointing to the Sony TV.

Yeah. Right.
"So where's the hidden camera?" Adam tried desperately to find humor in this whole thing, and failed miserably. He'd seen complicated stage makeup before, including good prosthetic Spock ears and contact lenses, but this job was as good or better: there weren't any seams.
If I'm not hallucinating, this must be a joke. But why today? Why not April first or Halloween or some other traditional day for practical jokes? But this guy's not a kid; he's at least thirty, and he looks very serious about all this.

He must be psycho.

"I don't think he believes us," Moira said. "Perhaps we should contact Lady Samantha now?"

Marbann looked thoughtful. "Perhaps you're right."

"If I am the King," Adam said, "and you are here to obey me, then obey this. Get out. Both of you. This isn't funny anymore." He turned to Moira. "What's going on here, Moira? Is this a joke? I thought you . . . liked me."

Moira looked hurt. "I do, my King," she said. "But it's not the same anymore. Perhaps if we'd had more time as humans, I might have fulfilled your desires."

"My what? Oh, that. So what's changed, aside from the fact that you've turned into an extraterrestrial?"

She crossed her legs, a very Moira-like gesture, and regarded him with surprise. "But my King, we have not been properly wed. We're not even betrothed!"

That did it. "I'm calling the cops. You can play your games with someone else. This has been a really crappy day. I'm not in the mood for this elaborate joke." He paused, reflecting. "You know, someone sure put a lot of work into those outfits."

He reached down for the phone and put the receiver to his ear. Nothing. He tapped the hook several times. No dial tone. The phone was dead.

Adam slammed the phone down. "Cute. You disconnected the phone."

"Your Majesty—" Marbann began.

"Oh, Marbann. Give it up. He'll never believe us as long as he's human," Moira said, and sighed. "Lady Samantha did a remarkable job in blocking his past. She's the only one who can bring him back."

Adam started walking backward, toward the front door. He reached in his pocket, but his keys weren't there.
There, on the floor. Where I dropped them.
He picked them up by the plastic handle.

"You must believe me!" Marbann pleaded, following him into the entrance hall, moving with amazing swiftness. Adam thought he was going to tackle him, but he stopped just short of running him over. "This is no prank!"

"Get away from me!" Adam shouted. The man was just too
big
to move that fast. Confusion surrendered to fear as he bolted out of the house.

I've got to call the cops,
he thought as he pulled the Geo out of the driveway, the little three-cylinder engine showing surprising power in the Dallas heat. He drove down Cedar Springs at breakneck speed, hoping a cop would pull him over, but he saw none as he sailed past nightclubs and a Chinese restaurant. He squealed into a convenience store, parked, ran for a bank of pay telephones, and dialed 911.

After the bell tone came a hiss, a crackle, and a familiar voice.

"My King, please come back," he heard.
Marbann?
He looked into the receiver, half expecting to see the intruder's face there.

He dropped the phone, picked up the next one.

"Adam, if you have to call the cops, call your mom."
Moira? How the hell are they doing this?

He reached for the next one, which rang before he touched it.
Pick it up or not?
Not.

Back in the Geo, he pulled back into traffic, driving a little slower now. It would do no good to contact the police by causing an accident.

But when he looked in his rearview mirror, he saw Marbann sitting in the backseat.

He slammed on his brakes. Behind him, a pickup screeched to a halt. Profanity followed a loud horn blast. He turned to look in the backseat, which was empty.

Maybe I'm on acid after all,
he thought.
Should I even be driving?
Cars and trucks honked as they passed him.
Or should I sit here and block traffic?
His hands and legs shaking, he urged his car forward, taking deep breaths, calming himself.
I didn't see that. I didn't see that at all.

As soon as he felt collected enough to drive, he found the expressway and drove at a sedate 55 mph to the police station where his mother worked.

Upstairs in Homicide, the girl working the desk smiled and waved him past. Everyone knew him here, although it had been weeks since he'd visited his mother on the job.

He walked into her office and closed the door behind him. Sammi was talking on the phone and peeling an orange at the same time.

She looked up, saw Adam, and said to the receiver, "I've got to go now. Let me know about the tests."

Adam began rattling off the encounter. "Mom, you're not going to believe this, when I got home with Moira, there was this guy sitting in the living room, well, no, I went to bed or actually took a nap,
then
 . . ."

Sammi held a single hand up, a gesture which silenced him.

"Hold it right there," she said as she peeled the orange. "I didn't understand a single thing you just said. Sit down and start at the beginning."

Adam sat in the plain wooden office chair and tried to relax.
Where do I begin? What do I tell her?

"I think I'm seeing things," he said, hoping he wasn't tripping on LSD after all.

"I see things all the time," she replied simply. "For instance, I'm seeing this orange. I see you. Can you be a little more specific?"

Adam frowned, accepting the likelihood that anything he said would seem insane anyway. "I've had a really crazy day," he began, deciding to leave out the part about the missing time at work.
Let's start with Moira.
. . .

"Jimmy let me off early today, and when I was leaving I gave Moira a lift, since her car wouldn't start. When I got in the house she, she . . ."

"She what?" Sammi asked.

Tried to rape me? No, not quite.
"She grew ears. And her eyes changed color."

"You mean that all this time she didn't
have
ears? I guess under all that hair . . ."

"No, no," Adam said, shaking his head.
This is coming out all wrong.
"Let me skip that. There was this guy in the living room of our house. He said his name was Marlboro of Avon or something. I asked him to leave and he wouldn't. And he kept calling me King Aid Him or some shit."

"Watch your mouth, young man," Samantha admonished.

"I don't know who he is, or why he was there. Moira knew him or something." He hesitated before asking the next question, ransacking his memory to make sure he had it right. "They said you would know what was going on."

His mother looked grim. "Did he say his name was 'Marbann of Avalon' by any chance?"

Adam's eyes became very big. "
Yes.
How did you know? Do you know why they were there?" Then, "Who
are
they?"

She met his questioning look, asked him, "You don't recognize him?"