You'll love it."
The demon walked over to her, raised his arms and said, "Hold me around the waist."
Gwen complied. Her face against the demon's back, she said, "Is this necessary for me to be transported with you?"
"Not at all," said the demon. "But I get off on it."
Before Gwen could reply, they vanished in a puff of black smoke.
As they reappeared outside Morgan's New Jersey home, Morty had just finished filling Gwen in on the little trick it had taught Pericles.
Gwen looked up, saw the ominous house and shuddered. But something else took her attention more immediately. It was pouring rain. She hugged herself tightly and wiped the water from her face.
Morty was looking up in dismay. "Aw, nuts. It was so nice out earlier."
Gwen frowned. "Yeah. Yeah, it was. In fact..." Her eyes widened even as her clothes started to become plastered to her skin. "I heard a weather report earlier. It was great weather tonight in New York and New Jersey! They weren't expecting heavy rain until-"
She turned on him, grabbing him by the scruff of the neck. "You idiot!" she shrieked into his face. "It was supposed to rain like this tomorrow! Not today. You jumped us through time!"
"Impossible!" bleated Morty. "If I had, your watch would have been automatically recalibrated through the nature of the spell I use. Look at your watch."
She looked at her watch. It was a digital. It read eight-ten P.M., November seventh.
"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?"