The Grail Gambit (Story)
Syd
Paul Wright was just exiting the DMV, when he spied her.
Now, he saw Ms. Laurie, in a gold convertible, her long blonde hair
hanging loose, and her pretty face impassive. She waved to him, and he
went over, leaning on her window loosely, eyeing her up most
impressively. He said:
"Well, now, Ms. Laurie, what do I owe this visit?"
She smiled, brushed her blonde hair back, said:
"Let's discuss matters as I give you a ride home."
He stood up, eyeing her wearily. She smiled, said:
"No need for such suspicion, Mr. Wright. I just want to discuss
things."
He nodded, still weary, and went to the other side, and got into her
car.
During the ride, the only sounds between them came from the car radio,
which played a number of California rock bands. Paul glared absently
out the window, at the sparse pedestrians, the multitude of cars.
Ms. Laurie finally cleared her throat, pulled her car onto the main
drive towards Columbia proper, said:
"The corruption is worse. If we can't get it under control, we might
have to write-off this decade."
He nodded, staying silent, forcing her speak. She scowled.
"This is one aspect of your personality that I never could warm to.
You really can be aggravating, Mr. Wright."
He smiled, glanced at her amusingly.
She returned her attention to the road, said:
"We need something heavy duty to break it up this time."
She turned up, past the main post office, towards the highway that led
out to the suburbs. He watched the scenery pass, as she suddenly
looked at him, said:
"This time, we need the Holy Grail."
He twisted round, looked at her.
"That," he said, "Is simply a myth, a legend, Ms. Laurie."
"Perhaps," she said, "Or, perhaps not."
He looked at her closely, said:
"Why tell me, Ms. Laurie? I was under the impression you didn't trust
me."
She scowled, said, "I don't. But I trust my associates even less."
He smirked, turning back to the window.
Paul passed the glass to Ms. Laurie, sat on the arm of her chair,
sipping his drink with load gulps. She looked on, disapprovingly. He
smirked.
"The Grail, eh," He said.
She nodded, sipping her drink demurely. He sighed, looked at the tv.
"It can only help, in this case," she said.
"Only it?"
"That's right."
He sighed again, stood up, and stared out a window.
"If it even exist," He said.
Ms. Laurie rose. She leaned against his back, put her arms around his
chest.
"Paul," She whispered.
"So, Ms Laurie, again, why did you contact me about this?" he said.
They lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. She lit two cigarettes, and
passed one to him.
"Because," She said, dragging on her cigarette, "I heard a faction of
your family has some connection to the grail."
Paul scowled, took a drag.
"That," he said, "Is just rumors, Ms Laurie. Tall tales told by my
relatives, The Martins. You're aware how tales can get embellished
over time. There's no telling how long these tale have been around."
He turned and looked into her pretty face, said, "I'm afraid I don't
believe them at all."
She winked her dark eyes at him and smiled.
"I figure," She said, "That if anyone can find out, it'd be you."
"You have more confidence in me then I have, Ms. Laurie."
She turned over, onto him, onto his erection.
"Oh, darling," Ms. Laurie.
Paul sighed. He sipped an alcoholic drink, and mused on the events of
the previous day. He'd agreed to look into the Grail legends.
She was a hot bitch, but far too cunning. We was never sure of how
much he'd revealed to her.
The Grail.
He'd heard the legends, of course. How it was said to be the cup that
the Christ had used during the Last Supper ritual. It was also said to
have collected the Christ's blood during the execution. The early
legends mentioned that one had to be pure of heart to even approach
the thing, which made its connection to him even more ironic. He'd
heard also that some radical scholars had suggested that it symbolized
a relationship that challenged the church's traditions.
He made a call.
Sixteen hours later, Paul was driving down highway 20, heading over
the Mississippi River Bridge into Louisiana. He passed a large
industrial city that glowed orange in the night.
Three hours later, Paul was sitting at the Mall St. Vincent.
His contact was late.
Paul sat on a bench in the sparsely populated mall, reading a dreadful
science-fiction magazine. As he finished the first story, a heavy set
man came up, and sat down.
"Your late," Paul said.
The man shrugged. Said, "Things kept coming up. So, cousin, what can I
do for you."
Paul shifted, looked at his cousin, said, "Old family tales."
"Oh."
"Yeah. And I'd guess that you've already figured out which one, right
David?"
David Martin scratched his chin.
"The Grail stuff, huh?"
Paul nodded.
"Not to much to tell. It exist, yes."
Paul looked thoughtful, said "its powers?"
David scowled, said, "Can't say. Too completed. Why the interest?"
"I represent a group that wishes to use its power for temporal
reason."
"That," David said sharply, "Is not part of its power."
"And what is its job?"
"Too complicated. But it's not some gloried vacuum cleaner."
Paul sighed, stood up.
"Gotcha," He said.
David stood, put his hand on Paul's shoulder.
"Why not come over to my place," He said.
"Alright," Paul agreed.
Pull was standing beside the bed, pulling on his shirt. He glanced at
his cousin, laying naked on the bed, smiling.
He said, "You haven't asked about my connection to the Grail."
Paul turned, looked at David. He smiled.
"I'm the guardian of the Grail," He said.
"Interesting."
"Yes. And it won't work without me."
"And you won't help."
"Nope. And couldn't if I wanted to anyway."
"Why?"
"It vanished. It was in a bag that was on that shelf," He said
indicating a distant closet, "And I think someone grabbed it last
week."
"Crap."
"I don't think the thieves have any idea what they have."
"We can only hope."
"Yeah. If they do, then your little group are wasting their time."
"Fuck"
David winced, threw a pillow at Paul.
"No need," He said, "To be vulgar."
He turned over in the bed at his parents Louisiana home, got up, got
something to drink. This had been a tiring few days. He sighed.
The Grail was out of their grasp, at least for the time being, and,
according to Ms. Laurie, Time was not on their side. He went
downstairs, to the kitchen, and looked in the fridge. He stood there,
musing.
He wasn't sure how much to credit David's story. He was a master of
embellishment, made to make him appear more powerful. But his
instincts told him to trust this account. It jibed with several he'd
heard.
Two arms reached around, embracing him. A form leaned against his
back.
He smiled.
"Hello, Iris," He said, turning around to embrace the dark haired
girl. She had large dark eyes, and pale, unhealthy skin. She looked at
him hungrily.
He led her to the stairs, scooped her up, and bundled up them. In the
bedroom, he kissed her full on the mouth, laying her on the bed. He
reached up her light sundress, causing her to blush.
He said, "How did you know I was here?"
She smiled, said "David He said something about you digging up old
family tales. So, I knew you'd come here."
"Well, I grew up here," He smiled, leaned in, and nibbled at her
nipple. She squealed happily. His hands pulled her sundress up. She
reached up and embraced his neck. He nibbled at her all over,
eliciting louder and louder squeals as he continued down her body. At
her center, he paused, and dived in. She thrashed around happily. He
rubbed her legs, then returned and kissed her lips as he entered her.
She squealed again. It was obvious that this wasn't the first time for
either.
Eventually, they rolled apart, exhausted and sweat-covered. They lay
there a moment, and then Paul turned and looked at her. She smiled
back at him.
"Our cousin," He said, "Never could keep his mouth shut."
Paul left Louisiana in the pre-dawn light. The streets were nearly
empty. He mused on the past week. Iris had energized him, in her own
way. He had a lot of information, but not a lot of it was useful.
He sighed.
He was not looking forward to reporting all this.
As he expected, he found Ms. Laurie at his parent's house when he
arrived. She was sitting in a chair, puffing a little cigarette. Paul
sighed when he saw her.
"How long have you been here?" He asked.
"A couple of hours," She said, "I calculated when you'd most likely be
back."
Paul dropped his bag, and went and got a drink.
"So," She said, "What have you learned?"
He leaned against the doorframe, gazed at her. She read his eyes,
frowned.
"Not good, eh?" She said. He shook his head.
He said, "The caretaker has lost the grail. Stolen. He's searching for
it, but he doesn't expect to locate it soon."
She glared at him, said, "Not good."
He shook his head, and turned back into the kitchen. She stood,
agitated, glared at him.
"I have some variables that might stabilize the situation temporarily.
But I was counting on the grail, though. Without it, it'll be more
difficult," She said, shaking her blonde hair. Paul grunted, continued
to pour a stiff drink.
"It might be impossible to turn back the corruption," She said,
passing him and making for the door. She closed the door with a solid
thump.
Paul turned and looked at a clock.
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