The Witch Hunter Chronicles: Hunted
Chapter 11 – Light Dinner Conversation

The conversation started with compliments to the chef, then Hugo took over and got down to business. He smiled at me and said, “Miss Flynn, I can’t tell you what a pleasure it is for me to have you break bread with my family this evening.”

“Thank you for taking me in,” I replied. “If it wasn’t for Lucía…” I stopped talking because I started to choke-up.

“Of course, dear,” Fran answered. “That’s my family’s purpose above all else – to serve the Crown.”

Hugo cleared his throat. “I would say the family’s purpose is to influence society in a positive way,” he said, “and supporting yourself and your... predecessors is certainly one of the ways we’ve accomplish this feat.” Fran eyes narrowed into a glare, but Hugo didn’t notice. “But the last few centuries the family’s assets have allowed us to influence the world in ways that haven’t required,” he swirled the ice in his drink while he searched for the right word, “an official figurehead.”

That was sly shade, right?

“That figurehead was instrumental in freeing our homeland from occupation Hugo,” Fran replied.

“That was over a thousand years ago Mamá,” Marc said without making eye contact. “Corporations are the true power in a modern, free market economy.”

Ooh, family drama.

Fran appeared to have trouble deciding where her glare would do the most good. I sipped my horchata, happy to not be the center of attention.

“Did Churchill or your precious industry have more impact on the outcome of WWII?” Lucía said, her cheeks reddening and her hands balling into fists.

Marc shrugged. “How many planes and guns did Churchill supply to the war effort?” he answered back.

I feel like I should know what they’re talking about. If I furrow my brow and nod once in a while, I think they’ll buy it.

“Everyone had planes and guns hermano,” Lucía snapped. “The Allies won because we had a leader that was delivered by the grace of God.”

“What does god have to do with this exactly hermanota?” Marc quipped.

“Children please,” Hugo said. “Mackenzie doesn’t want to hear this.”

I pursed my lips and tried to look neutral.

“So,” Jordan interjected, “are you guys rich or are you like, Bezos rich?”

Hugo’s eyes flashed and his smile was quick. “Not quite Bezos rich, though combined wealth of the three branches of the family puts us somewhere in the middle of the Forbes top one hundred,” Hugo replied. I’m not sure his chest could have safely puffed out any farther. “Ironically, we did make a tidy profit by investing in Amazon in its early years.”

I drained my glass and began to pour another as I said, “That free shipping with your Prime membership is the best, right?” Crickets. Jordan and Lucía gave me a courtesy smile at least. I pressed on. “What is it you do exactly?”

“The Cástile branch of the du Lac family has been in the banking industry since the end of the first Crusade,” Hugo replied. “Our assets are currently measured in the tens of billions.”

“Kenzie said ‘du Lac’ during the knighting ceremony,” Jordan said, “What does it mean?”

“De Luc?” Fran asked. Jordan shrugged. “Probably. De Luc was Lancelot’s surname,” Fran answered. “It means of the lake. A proper name for a knight, I’d say.”

Marc looked first at me, then at his sister. Lucía was ineffectually trying not to smile, and her cheeks were pink.

“Wait,” Marc started. “She knighted you. You?” He made a disgusted sound. “What could possibly make you worthy of that distinction?”

“Marc!” Fran said, “That’s enough.”

Lucia looked like she’d been slapped, while Hugo served himself another serving of stew.

Oh, it’s on.

I started to stand when I felt Jordan’s hand on my arm. I looked at Jordan and he shook his head. I settled back into my seat and said, “It’s a good thing I did, since she saved my life a minute later. And again a few minutes after that. I’m just lucky she wasn’t too busy to protect me that night.”

The table went suddenly quiet. Even Hugo looked up from his drink.

Marc opened his mouth once, closed it and looked at me for a moment. I held his gaze.

Man, he’s got nice eyes. No! You’re mad at him.

He swallowed, turned to Lucía and said, “I apologize hermanota. You deserve such an honor far more than I do.”

Hugo took a sip of his drink and resumed eating, while Fran smiled at her children, Marc looked embarrassed and Lucía looked like she was about to cry. Jordan bailed us out once again.

“Mr. Castile,” he asked, “you can really trace your family tree back to Sir Lancelot?

“Hmmm? Oh, you know,” he shrugged, “so the myth goes-”

“This may not be the best night for your skepticism, my love,” Fran interjected.

He continued, “but this is Fran’s lineage, not mine. Perhaps she could explain it with more eloquence, since she’s better versed in the more,” he motioned in the air with his glass, trying to conjure up the perfect word before settling on, “fantastical elements of the story. I’m just the guy that keeps the business afloat.”

After a fairly decent Spanish version of THE LOOK directed at her husband that mostly went unnoticed, Fran cleared her throat and said, “After the fall of Camelot, Lady Guinevere and Sir Lancelot married in secret and retired to a small farm in Normandy to escape their former life and raise a family,” Fran explained. “There are three branches of the de Luc family, and each trace their lineage from one of the couple’s three children.”

“I mean, technically, Lancelot and Guinevere were the cause of the fall of Camelot,” Jordan said carefully. “At least according to The Once and Future King.” He gave me a subtle wink.

I really should have read the Cliff’s Notes on that one rather than having Jordan write the report for me in exchange for watching those ridiculous Evil Dead movies with him.

“You’re not wrong young man,” Fran answered. “They’d given in to their mutual passion, and for that, the greatest kingdom in history fell to the Saxons.”

Hugo mumbled something about outdated agricultural techniques and disagreeable Celtic tribes, but Fran ignored him.

She continued. “By the time the children had grown, Camelot was nothing more than a distant memory. After your ancestor Arthur died in battle at the hands of his bastard son Prince Mordred, the Kingdom of England returned to being a loose collection of Celtic fiefdoms and were unable to stand against Queen Morgan and her Saxon allies.”

“Ah yes, the immortal witch-queen,” Hugo replied. His voice dripped with skepticism. He swirled the ice in his drink, then took a sip.

“She’s been at the center of all this since the beginning,” Fran said, eliciting a subtle eye-roll from Hugo that he mostly hid behind his glass. “It’s her forces that we oppose to this day.”

“As you say my love,” Hugo added, though without conviction. “The only opposition that I see on a daily basis is government regulation. Not that my lobbyists don’t replace roads around those petty bureaucrats.”

Fran appeared to be counting to ten in her head. Finally, she said, “Even though the couple was deeply and truly in love, they knew their feelings for each other had led to the downfall of the greatest kingdom the earth had ever seen. Thousands died in the civil war between Arthur and Mordred and thousands more in the Saxon invasions that followed. Within a few decades of the fall of Camelot, England was nothing more than a vessel state of the king of Denmark. The weight of all those deaths and the loss of their homeland bore down on the family’s collective shoulders. Their guilt became so great that the couple spent their later years apart, atoning for their sins in the eyes of God – Guinn in a convent and Lancelot living as a hermit in the woods.”

“It’s such a sad story,” Lucía said. Fran nodded at her daughter in agreement. Hugo just drained his glass, and Marc yawned so widely I could see his tonsils.

“By that point, the children were grown, and were making their living off the family farm,” Fran continued. “One day, Merlin appeared at their door and explained to the children how they could help to right their parent’s wrongs.”

“They knew who Merlin was?” Jordan asked.

“I would assume so,” Fran answered. “Children back then grew up hearing all sorts of the stories about him after all.”

“Like what?” Jordan asked.

“Well,” Fran replied, “Merlin trained Arthur in kingship by turning him into various animals. In each form, he learned something different about corruption and inequality.”

“Merlin mentioned the pike story to me,” I said. “He talked about it like it really happened.

Hugo opened his mouth to say something, but Fran spoke over him.

“I have no doubt it did,” she said.

Hugo stared at his empty glass and frowned.

Fran continued, “Then there was the story about how he stole the stones from Ireland that later became Stonehenge.”

“I’ve never heard that one,” Jordan said.

That’s because it was likely done by hundreds of men with tools and ships,” Hugo said. Fran glared. “What? The most pedestrian explanations are likely the case my dear.”

Fran shook her head, sighed, and took a deep breath before continuing. “As I was saying, the children of the couple were enthusiastic about restoring their family’s lost honor. Merlin gave each sibling a specific responsibility, and when the children started their own families, their offspring continued in the footsteps of their parents. My branch of the family is descended from Jean Luc, the oldest son, and the greatest warrior. His ancestors became the military backbone of the family.”

“But now you’re in banking?” I asked Fran.

Hugo beat her to the punch. “After the introduction of gunpowder, power had less to do with trained fighting men and more to do with the ability to purchase weapons and develop technology,” Hugo answered. “Fran’s ancestors transitioned from soldiers to bankers shortly after the last Crusade.”

Fran continued, “The younger son Paul was initially tasked with running the family farm as a way to finance the arming and provisioning of Jean Luc’s men. That venture eventually grew into a multinational land and livestock corporation. They now oversee businesses as varied as nanotechnology and medical research.”

“What about the daughter?” I asked.

“Clotilde’s line has been more difficult to trace. As a woman in the 5th Century, she had less opportunities open to her than her brothers did. The best way for a woman to gain wealth and power was to marry into it. With the help of Merlin, she was offered in marriage to Clovis I, King of the Franks. For a while, their lineage was, for all intents and purposes, the Kings and Queens of France. Unfortunately, most of their line was lost when the Carolingians usurped control.”

“Yes, the few faces I’ve met from that branch love to tout their supposed Merovingian blood whenever they get a few drinks in them,” Hugo said. “They now run a lobbying firm in the EU. Bunch of pretentious boot-lickers if you ask me.”

“What part of the family is the guy you called uncle?” I asked Lucía. The table got very quiet all of a sudden, and Lucía apparently decided this was a perfect time to study her lap. When no one spoke up, I added, “You know,” I continued, “the one that…” I couldn’t get the words ‘killed my father,’ out of my mouth. I felt feel my face starting to burn but ignored it.

“Lucía told me Galahad was there,” Fran answered, speaking the words slowly and carefully.

“Wait,” Jordan said. “Are you saying that crazy dude with the sword was the guy from the Holy Grail story?”

“He’s one in the same,” Fran answered, pointedly ignoring her husband’s glare. “And it’s most likely the Grail that has kept him young all these years.”

“Fran, don’t call him that,” Hugo said, his voice stern. “He’s just a common thug using ancient mythology as a weapon. Much like your supposed immortal wizard Merlin.”

Lucía glared at her father. “If you’d been at the airport the other night and saw what I saw, you wouldn’t be so dismissive, Papà.

“I admit that I’m having trouble with many aspects of your story,” Hugo said. “I have no doubt you believe you saw something that you believe was supernatural, but the mind can do funny things in times of great stress.”

“Papà, I was not imagining-”

“And as I said last night,” Hugo said. He picked up his glass, which was empty, glared at it, and put it back down. He frowned and continued, “If I’d have known that there was going to be danger involved, I would have sent a security detail rather than you my dear – regardless of you or your mother’s wishes, or that cantankerous old charlatan’s instructions.”

“Was I misunderstanding what I saw too?” I asked. I was too mad to have any of my normal social inhibitions. “I saw witches with sparkly knives flinging fire and turning into hyenas and birds and homicidal jungle cats.”

“Don’t forget the monster,” Jordan added.

“Oh yeah, how could I forger the monster from…” I turned to Jordan and added, “What would you say?”

“Another dimension sounds good,” Jordan said.

“Sure, another dimension. Why not.” I could feel my face boiling, but I was past caring.

“Perhaps they used a hallucinogen,” Hugo offered. “It might not be a bad idea to get a blood sample out to a reputable lab in the city.”

I ignored him. “And then there was the glowing sword that the immortal knight shoved through my father’s chest!”

That felt like a mic-drop moment, so I got up from the table and left the room.