Savior of Avalon

Chapter One

"LUCINDA," Mom screeched, barreling into my room.

"Gah," I cried out, whirling around and dropping my paintbrush. My sudden whirling caused my paint to fall onto the ground with a clatter. I was lucky I had put towels on the ground around me or the floor would have been ruined.

"Mom," I groaned, moving to pick up my fallen utensils. "Look what you've done by barging into my room like a madwoman. You know you'll have to buy me more paint, right?"

"Fine, I'll do that," she said, her tone uncharacteristically sharp. "Pack what you can, we're leaving."

I raised my head up to meet her eyes. There it was, that stony look she got every once in a while. Ever since I can remember, we've been moving. We never stay in one place for more than a couple of months. Mom home schooled me because even she knew it was pointless to go to school and get attached when we would be moving soon anyway.

The longest we ever stayed in one place was a year. I was ten and we were living in a penthouse in Manhattan. I won't ever, for as long as I live, forget that view. High above the city, it felt as if you could see all of Manhattan from that penthouse.

"We're moving again?" I asked, setting my fallen utensils back on the small table carefully. "We just got here."

Mom's eyes softened a little before she spoke up, "I know it's hard, Lucy, but we have to keep moving, okay." She put one hand on my mop of wild curly hair affectionately, kissing my forehead. "The day will come when everything makes sense and we can stop running. I promise."

Once she was gone, I sighed heavily. She had been saying that same thing for the past ten years. That one day everything would make sense and we could stop running. I always knew we were running, but Mom never explained from what. Whenever I tried to ask, she would just shut me down.

I packed my clothes and my painting tools in the new suitcases Mom had bought for me when we first moved here. I looked out the window, taking in the Irish countryside. This gorgeous view had been nice while it lasted.

Within the hours, Mom has packed her things and I have packed mine. We loaded everything into her car and before I knew it, we were driving away from the beautiful home I had inadvertently gotten attached to.

"Where are we going this time?" I wondered a little bitterly. I was tired of running. I was tired of getting attached only to have it ripped from me. I wanted to live the life of a normal seventeen year old girl. Was that really too much to ask for?

"Do you remember that penthouse we had in New York when you were ten?"

I looked over at her, my eyes going wide. That penthouse was the only place I'd ever felt at home. We had lived many places—France, London, Italy, Germany, California, Virginia, Maine—if you could think of it, we had lived there. But that penthouse was really the only place where I felt safe. There was a certain... magic about it.

I nodded once, showing her I remembered.

"We'll be staying there a couple of months, okay?" Her gaze was forward as she pulled into the parking lot of the nearest bank. "I'm gonna go in and I'll be right back out, okay?"

"Okay."

Mom was out of the car before I'd even finished my sentence. She was more on edge this time around than she normally was. Whatever was bothering her must have been getting worse. The strange thing was how Mom afforded all the things we got. I mean, whenever we moved somewhere she got a job, but that job was more like a cover. Her jobs didn't pay her nearly enough to afford penthouses and French villas or to afford us moving from place to place. Yet somehow, she went into various banks and came out with a boatload of cash.

Ten minutes had gone by when Mom slid back into the car, sliding the briefcase she was holding into the backseat. Without a word, she started the car up and hit the gas.

I studied her face the entire time we drove. When it was time to move, Mom was always on high alert, but this time was different. Her eyes kept darting to the review mirror, checking to see if anyone was following us. Her cocoa brown skin didn't have the radiance it normally did, instead she looked almost pallid, her teeth clenched and her hands wrapped tightly around the steering wheel.

I wanted to ask what had her wound so tight. I wanted to know what she was so afraid of, but I knew the way that conversation would go. She would only tell me she'd explain everything when the time was right.

I sighed to myself and looked out the window for the remainder of the ride.

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It took Mom almost an hour to drive us to the Dublin airport. Once they've checked our bags, made sure we didn't have any weapons of validified our passports, they set us up on the private jet Mom had access, too.

Mom's had this... thing for as long as I can remember. She seems to think everyone is out to get us, so she refuses to ride on an airplane surrounded by other people. Hence the private jet flown by the only person my mother trusts: Thom.

When we're making our way to the jet, Thom sees us and gives us a big smile. Thom is around my mother's age with smooth chocolate skin and light brown eyes. His hair was cropped and he always has such a warm air around him. If people could be a color, Thom would be yellow because he was so much like the sun.

"Nicole," he greeted Mom, looking directly at her with a soft smile. "You look good."

Mom looked shy all of a sudden, the tense look she'd had on her face just moments ago was gone. She was always more relaxed when Thom was around. It was obvious that they both had a thing for each other but, for whatever reason, neither of them did anything about it.

"Thanks, Thom. You look good, too."

They stared at each other for a few more seconds. I was starting to wonder if I should just sneak away or if it was okay to stay when Thom turned to me, grinning brightly.

"And Lucy, look at you. Have you grown since I saw you last?"

I rolled my eyes. "No, I don't think I've grown much in five months."

He grinned at my sarcasm before ushering us onto the jet. Once we were in the air and Ireland was disappearing behind us, Mom let out a sigh of relief and her entire body relaxed.

I looked over at her and found she just looked...tired.

I pulled out my sketchpad and started sketching. It would take hours before we even hit the New York airspace, so until then, I figured I could try to draw something new.

I was sketching like I normally did, straight lines here, curves there. Then, before I knew it, it was like my hand had a mind of its own. I was suddenly sketching a man in a cloak. His face wasn't visible, but you could make out that his hair was long and that he had a strong, chiseled jaw. You could tell that—even with the cloak covering most of his face—he was the type of guy who could have his pick of any woman on the planet.

Still, I was a little weirded out by the way my hands moved on their own. It was like watching someone else draw for me.

I looked over at Mom only to see she was sleeping peacefully in the row across from me, her head resting against the window as she breathed evenly.

I got up from my seat and wrapped the blankets given to us when we first boarded the plane around her.

When I headed back to my seat, it didn't take long before I closed my eyes and drifted asleep.

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When I woke up, I was cold. I went to wrap the blanket tighter around me, only to realize there was no blanket. I opened one eye only to realize my surroundings were completely unfamiliar. I sat straight up, both of my eyes open now, and took in the scenery in front of me.

I was surrounded by trees. Most likely, I was in a forest. The trees seemed to be alive, their leaves a lush green and the sun overhead shone brightly despite how cold it was. All around me were little flickering lights that all moved very quickly, going this way and that.

I reached out my hand and one of the little pulses of light landed on my palm. Up close, I could hear the little pulse of light making a high pitched crooning noise. Curious, I leaned forward to see more of the light and was surprised that when my eyes adjusted to the light, I could make out a little face.

"Fairies," said a voice from behind me.

The little light on my palm disappeared and the other lights dispersed, too. I turned to see the owner of the voice and came face to face with the man I'd just drawn earlier today. He was just as I'd drawn him, his face was hidden underneath a dark blue cloak. All I could see were the long tendrils of light brown hair streaked with blonde that fell to his shoulders and the strong lines of his jaw sprinkled with hair slightly darker than the hair on his head.

"You're the guy I drew last night," I said, eyes widening when I realized what was going on. "I'm dreaming." I slapped a hand to my forehead. "Of course I'm dreaming."

"Yes, you're dreaming and yet at the same time, young wizardess, this is no dream."

All I could do was stare at him. Was he serious? What was with all the riddles?

"Who are you, anyway?"

"They call me Merlin." His voice, I realized, was deep. Musical, almost. He had the kind of voice that made me bet he could sing.

"Merlin?" I racked my brain, trying to figure out why that name sounded so familiar. "Oh. You mean like the sorcerer who helped King Arthur take control of Camelot."

Mom made it a big deal for me to learn Arthurian legends. When I was six, I could tell anyone the entire legend of King Arthur. By now, all of that stuff was second nature to me.

"Good. So, you know about Arthur and Camelot."

I snorted. "Yeah, that's kind of a big deal." I studied the man—Merlin—more closely. Underneath his cloak, it was obvious to see he had a nice build. I'd wager he was 6'1 maybe 6'2.

"It's time for you to return to Camelot, young wizardess," he said. I could see his perfect jaw clenching as he spoke. "You are not safe in this world anymore, Morgana knows about you and what you can do. She won't rest until you are dead."

"Morgana? King Arthur's half sister?" I shook my head, slapping my cheek, trying to wake myself up. This dream was getting weirder and weirder by the second.

"I'm coming to get you," he muttered, sounding annoyed all of a sudden. "Could you at least try to stay alive until then?"

I glared at him, not liking his tone. "I've lived seventeen years without you, I'm pretty sure I can live seventeen more. Snarky asshole," I muttered under my breath.

He sighed once more, I swear it was like he was thinking, Why me?

"Wait for me, young wizardess. It's very clear that when I come for you, we will have a lot of work to do."

He waved a hand carelessly and suddenly, the world was dark.

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I woke up to Mom shaking me gently, her eyes studying my face intently, almost worriedly.

"We're here," she said, pulling back and gazing at me with watchful eyes. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I just had a weird dream, that's all."

She looked at me for a few more seconds, so long it was starting to get uncomfortable.

"It's starting, isn't it? You saw him? Merlin."

I was quiet for a moment, trying really hard to process what my Mom had just said. There's no way she could possibly know what I'd dreamed about and yet she had said it so knowingly. There were thousands of different dreams, thousands of answers she could have guessed and yet, she guessed that one.

"How did you know?" I whispered.

She looked away, lips pulled in a tight line as she took a deep breath.

"We have to go, Lucinda. Now."

"No." I stood up and met my mother's eyes with a fierce look. "Not until you explain to me what's going on, Mom. For the past seventeen years, we've been running from something. What? I don't know, but whatever it is, you're terrified of it. You don't have a job that makes millions of dollars, yet somehow you can afford villas and penthouses and private jets." I gestured around me. "And now, you know what I dreamed about. Mom, what's going on. You have to tell me."

Mom closed her eyes, eyebrows pulled together and her lips turned down in a grimace.

She sighed and said, "You're right, Lucy. I know I have to tell you everything. And I promise we will once we get to the penthouse, okay? It's not safe here. You're not safe here. You're in the open where she can find you. Let's just get away first okay?"

I wanted to argue, but Mom looked so panicked, I knew fighting her on this would be a bad idea. So, I nodded letting her lead me off the jet and to a car Thom had set up for us. We bid farewell to Thom and pulled away and into the busy New York streets.

Despite all the chaos of city life surrounding us, all I could think about was what Mom had just said. That I was in the open where she could find me. It reminded me a lot of my dream. Where Merlin had said Morgana knew about me and what I could do and that she wanted me dead.

I looked over at Mom and she looked forward, concentrating on the traffic. We would be having a long time once we reached the penthouse.

Finally, I would know the secrets Mom had been hiding all these years.