He barely had time to process what the man was saying when his mind skidded to an abrupt halt. He saw it? Could he see the Ursus? No humans ever saw them. It was impossible. Unless… The man shook Lance’s hand free and took a step away, Lance’s continued silence obviously causing alarm. “I’m gonna call the cops.” He took a determined step back, and Lance panicked.
“What’s your name?” Lance rushed out and watched in fascination as the dimple flashed again in the man’s cheek, and he stuck out his hand again.
“Mel. But you can call me anything you like.” Lance looked at his hand and then clasped it firmly before letting it go. “And you are? I at least ought to know the name of my gallant rescuer.” The shy smile went straight to Lance’s knees.
Gallant? Mel had no idea how accurate his teasing was. “It’s Lance, err…short for Lancelot. Lancelot Buchanan.” He waited for the derision that usually followed when people heard his full first name.
A peal of laughter rang out, and Mel’s eyes danced. “You’re serious?” Lance drew himself up—it wasn’t that funny. “I’m sorry.” But he didn’t look sorry. Mirth flickered in his eyes. “My dad had a weird hang-up about history. Old English stuff.” Mel’s flush deepened. “I didn’t mean it was funny, it’s just such a coincidence.”
Lance’s heart immediately beat a tattoo in his chest. “Coincidence?” His voice rose and he cleared his throat.
“I shortened my real name.”
Lance’s heart stopped. He practically heard its last furious beat. “What’s your name?”
Mel groaned. “You’re never gonna believe me.”
“Try me.” Lance croaked the words out past lips that dread seemed to be rendering numb.
“Although my mom was probably high or something when they named me. It’s Merlin. Go figure.”
Merlin? Lance’s eyes roved up and down Mel but this time in complete disbelief.
“But what can you do?” Mel groused. “Some fucking people shouldn’t be allowed to have kids.”
Lance blinked in shock one more time and shook his head. He really had no idea.
“I’m going to call the cops right now.” Mel took a determined step back and fished in his pocket for a cell phone. Lance had a second to marvel at how he would fit anything in a space that looked too tight for even oxygen when he realized he couldn’t let him. The police? He shot out a hand to stop him without thinking, and Mel whirled.
Five seconds later Lance lay flat on his back, staring at the sky.
For a breathless second, neither of them uttered a word, and then Lance groaned as Mel’s face appeared and his wide, now worried gaze fell on him.
“Are you okay? I’m sorry, it was automatic. Did I hurt you?” His concerned eyes raked him up and down. “Did you hit your head? Perhaps we should get you to the emergency room? Old man Jericho will lend me his car.” Mel was obviously taking his shocked silence as an indication of injury.
Oh my God. Lance sat up. He fought monsters, supernatural beings that couldn’t be killed. He was over fifteen hundred years old, and some man—boy—had just laid him flat out. He put his hand to the back of his head. Thank God Gawain wasn’t there to witness his humiliation. Lance would never hear the end of it.
“I’m gonna call 911. You stay still.” Mel peered at him again, new worry clouding his eyes. “Did that thing attack you as well?” He turned and glanced down the now deserted alley.
Lance forced his brain to kick in. The doubt he had heard was obvious. For all his bluster, there was no way he would voluntarily be near any law enforcement. “I’m sorry Merlin—Mel,” he said, and he got to his feet more confidently. Mel took a step back, and Lance forced himself not to take one forward. Mel shot a glance behind him, obviously wondering if he could get away before he, what—attacked him?
Lance held his hands up and took two steps backward. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
“Uh-huh. Isn’t that what the villain says on every scary movie I’ve ever seen before he jumps them?”
Lance’s lips twitched. “No jumping, promise, and if anything, you just jumped me.”
The soft inhalation seemed very loud as they both caught a different meaning in the throwaway words. He chewed his cheek. “I should be running in the opposite direction.”
“And I’m not stopping you.” He took a chance. “Your curiosity is. It’s the same reason you’re not screaming in hysterics.”
“Pfft,” Mel huffed. “I don’t do hysterics.” He paused. “Although you come at me with any sort of rodent and I’m making no promises.”
Lance grinned and waggled the cuffs on his coat to show they were empty. “No mice lurking in there.”
Mel heaved a dramatic sigh. “Don’t make me regret this, but I think you owe me a coffee and an explanation.” He licked his lips. “Or I could just give you the blow job and we call it quits?”
Lance felt the action in his groin. “Why the name Merlin?” Because despite inner conviction telling him this was just a weird coincidence, he had to be sure.
“My dad was a teacher back in the day. English, history. But he died when I was ten.” The comment was made quietly, but Lance could hear the hurt and imagine the rest. There had to be a story behind why he was here.
Footsteps clattered into the alley. Lance immediately put his back to Mel and completely without thinking drew his sword at the newcomer.
“My liege?” Kay had dropped automatically to his knee, facing Lance’s sword. The reaction was inbred, automatic, and totally inappropriate. Lance cursed. He had not shown one of them the tip of his sword in error for many, many years.
He sheathed it quickly and opened his mouth to say something, anything.
“Are you crazy?” Mel was staring at him in astonishment, but not—he was astounded—in fear. “You can’t go waving swords around in New York.”
Kay looked helplessly at Lance. They were not used to having to think of explanations.
“Guns are dangerous,” Lance said immediately, realizing how ridiculous that was. And utterly useless against the Ursus.
“Oh, and of course a huge sword is totally safe to carry around?” Mel’s sarcasm was not lost on Lance, nor the decibels he was using.
Kay stood and immediately bowed to Mel. “Greetings.”
Mel’s lips parted soundlessly, and he glanced around. “Someone’s filming this, aren’t they? I don’t know what stunt or dare this is, but cut it out, huh? You’re not funny anymore.”
Lance struggled for a reply, as Mel’s eyes swept up and down them both in assessment. Kay held his hand out, quickly trying to cover his embarrassment. Mel huffed at Kay but didn’t take his hand. “I’m Kay.” At his sudden look of surprise, Kay grinned. “Yes, I know it’s a girl’s name. Disappointed parents, what can I say?”
Mel chuckled and held out his hand. “Oh, that’s perfect,” he said. “We’ve just been complaining at the injustices our parents rained down on us. I’m actually called Merlin.” His fingers grazed Kay’s.