'It is! You moron! The polls just closed. The election's already over. It's only a matter of counting the votes now.' 'Then what's the problem?' shouted Morty over the sound
of thunder rumbling in the storm. 'Even setting Merlin free-' 'I don't know,' Gwen shouted back. 'But Morgan's going to try something. I just feel it. And the only one who could stop her is Merlin.'
Chaptre the Eighteenth
The Colonial Room at the Roosevelt Hotel, near Grand Central Station, had been made over completely in preparation for election night. The walls and ceilings had been festooned with balloons and crepe paper. Three televisions had been set up to monitor the election returns on the local news stations and network affiliates. Tables had been laid with several tons of food, including chicken legs, meatballs, and countless other munchies. The room was already packed with supporters, apprehensive campaign workers, news people, and whoever else had even a near-legitimate reason for being there.
Arthur was not present, however. Up on the third floor, in a suite with a fully stocked bar, he was pacing like a caged panther. He looked at his watch: 8:15. He turned to Percy, who was sitting there with infinite patience, and demanded, *'Where the hell is she? She can't have vanished into thin air.'
'With all due respect, Arthur, you've made it more than clear to her that she is not your favorite person and you are just as happy when she's not around.'
'Yes, but . . .' Arthur waved his hands in meaningless circles and then let his arms fall limply to his sides. 'You're right, I suppose. Still, it's damned odd.'
'Maybe.'
'The polls are closed,' said Ronnie, who was reclining on a sofa. 'Early word is that this is going to be a tough election to call.'
Arthur turned to him. 'To call what?'
'It's a bizarre phenomenon, Arthur,' said Ronnie be-musedly. 'All the stations want to be the first to announce a winner. So over the years they've started predicting who the winner will be earlier and earlier in the evening. Sometimes with as little as one percent of the vote tabulated.'
'Really?' asked Arthur, fascinated. 'One percent? But that sounds so insane. I mean . . .
isn't that the equivalent of going up to a crowd of a hundred people, picking one person, getting his opinion, and assuming that the rest of the crowd can have their opinions guessed at from this one chap?'
Percy smiled. 'It's more scientific than that, Arthur.'
'Oh.' Arthur nodded. 'Science. Incomprehensible. Give me magic any day.'
Morty walked quietly in front of Gwen, taking several steps, pausing and listening, then gesturing for her to follow. It was nervewracking, slow progress. Yet with this method they had managed to penetrate into the hallways of Morgan's house without detection. The demon had maneuvered itself and Gwen past the detection wards placed around the house, and now, as they crept through hallways dimly lit by candles along the wall, Gwen started to feel as if the corridor were closing in on her. 'Oh, God,' she moaned softly.
Morty turned to face her. 'What?' it asked anxiously.
Her lips tight, Gwen hissed back, 'I don't know. I'm starting to feel clammy. I'm sweating like the devil. My hands are trembling___'
It nodded, its inhuman face etched with very human concern. 'We have to get you out of here.'
'No. Arthur needs Merlin. So that's who I came here to get. Which way?'
The demon paused, for they had reached a corridor with a fork. It looked off to the right and to the left, then pointed left and said, 'This way.'
They padded noiselessly down the hallway. At the end of the hall Gwen saw that it opened out and there was brighter light at the end. Morty drew up short and she bumped into it. Her hand brushed against its furred rump. It grinned maliciously. 'I didn't know you cared.'
'Startup.'
'Fine.' It pointed toward the end of the corridor. 'That's Morgan's inner sanctum. That's where she was keeping Merlin, I assume. She's never let me in there.'
She nodded, and the knife was in her hand. Its tip glittered in the dim light. She only wished that she could have wielded Excalibur. Even so, she still felt herself an enemy to conjure with.
They got to the end of the corridor, Gwen straining her ears for some sound that Morgan was in the vicinity. And she did hear something. It was a television, and it was tuned to the election returns.
Gwen pushed past the demon now, and bold as brass, walked into the inner sanctum of Morgan Le Fey.
Morgan wasn't there. Morty came in behind Gwen and peeked over her shoulder. Its sigh of relief was audible.
Gwen's glance took in the large pillows, the black walls and tables, and then over on one side, as if it were a trophy, the column of crystal with Merlin embedded inside.
Gwen's breath caught. 'Oh, God,' she murmured, her fingers interlacing as if in prayer. 'Oh, God, I'm so sorry.'
She started across the room to Merlin, caution thrown aside. Morty was right behind her.
'Gwen,' it started to say, 'I don't think we-'
Suddenly there was a dazzling flash of light and Gwen felt as if something had exploded behind her with concussive force. She rolled forward, the strength of the blast carrying her, and her left shoulder impacted with the crystal column that held Merlin prisoner. She rolled over and looked behind her, where the blast had originated, and squinted against the fading light.
Where Morty had been there was now a small pile of steaming ashes. Gwen moaned, deep in her throat. Then, her jaw set, she looked past the remains of the demon to see Morgan standing on the other side of the room. Her left hand rested affectionately on Lance's shoulder. Her right hand was still smoldering from the force of the spell she'd just unleashed.
Morgan looked at the mound of ashes and shook her head. 'It's so hard,' she lamented, 'to get good help nowadays.'
The desk clerk looked with great distaste at Chico and Groucho. 'Sirs, I am afraid that Mr.
Penn does not wish to be disturbed. I am not going to tell you what room he's in. My understanding is that he will be coming down to greet his constituents-'
'Look,' said Chico reasonably. 'We knew this was gonna be a fancy hotel and everything.
Percy said we should have ties and everything, and we did.' He rummaged in the pocket of his beat-up duffel jacket and pulled out a wrinkled brown tie. He waved it in the desk clerk's face. 'See?'
'Yes. I see.' His brow clouded. 'And I also see that I'm going to have to call the police unless you-'
Groucho leaned forward. 'Now listen,' he said intensely. 'We're not, what you said before, constituents. We're knights. We're the first ones. Arthur said so. Arthur wouldn't bullshit us, the way you are. Now either you ring his room and tell him we're here'-and his voice lowered as he delivered the most horrendous threat he could pull to mind-'or we're gonna go into the middle of your lobby and take our clothes off.'
The desk clerk picked up the phone immediately, his eyes never leaving the two unsavory characters. The phone up in Arthur's suite was picked up on the second ring, and the desk clerk said, 'Sir, I hate to bother you, but two rather disreputable looking characters have-'
He stopped talking as he heard something on the other end that he clearly had trouble believing. Then he nodded slowly and put the phone down. 'Room three twelve,' he said without looking at them.
'Thanks, man,' said Chico. He headed over toward the elevator, but Groucho remained there, glowering at the desk clerk. Chico took him by the elbow and dragged him over to the elevator. One showed up almost immediately. They stepped in, and as the doors started to close, the desk clerk shouted, 'I'm glad I didn't vote for him!'
Groucho lunged as the doors closed on him. The desk clerk grinned and went back to his work.
Minutes later Groucho and Chico were in the Royal Suite, helping themselves to the bar. The television was already on in the corner. Ronnie was saying, 'Now in presidential elections, the polls were closing three hours earlier on the east coast than on the west coast. Then the networks started doing their predicting thing, saying that one candidate had won before thousands of people in the west had gone to the polls. So they didn't bother voting. Quite a brouhaha.'
'I've had enough of this,' said Arthur abruptly, heading for the door. 'A true leader doesn't hide from his men
