I'd never been to Vegas. I always pictured the place as a giant shiny vaudeville full of beautiful women and neon lights, with fireworks and magicians and people dressed up like Elvis. Instead I saw a normal city, with some fancy buildings in the distance. Kind of a letdown, really. Granted, we showed up at nine in the morning. I'm sure the place would have been more exciting at night, and if I wasn't seeing it at the end of a fifteen hour drive. Mike also informed me that all the things I'd been thinking of could be found on the Strip. I'm not sure I believed him, but I took comfort in the thought. Las Vegas is supposed to be a magical place, after all.

Come to think of it, looking for magic might not have been the smartest choice. We'd already found magic, and it had kicked our asses. Two of my friends were dead, one was in the ICU, and the rest of us were beat to hell. We were homeless, wanted by the police, and I at least had lost my job, since my boss didn't appreciated me telling him I couldn't be in to work on Monday. Asshole.

I was exhausted. My body hurt, and the makeshift splint holding my wrist together itched. The drive had been nervewracking. Mike and I traded off every few hours, despite my belief that the crazy bastard shouldn't be driving with a hole in him. We'd stopped only for food, gas, and smokes. I spent most of the trip looking behind us, waiting to catch the attention of some random highway patrolman. Would we get shipped back to Missoula if they found us? I didn't know.

At least we weren't in the Taurus. Finder had grudgingly lent us his Jeep after Mike pointed out we wouldn't make it out of town in our cars. Like his apartment, the vehicle had been immaculately clean. The back had a stack of neatly folded towels he used to keep grease off the seats on his way back form work. Now it was full of fast food wrappers and ash from cigarettes. We'd have to get it professionally cleaned or something before we got it back to him.

Lady sat in the back, sword near at hand. She'd checked in with the Green Knight periodically, but the guy seemed to be doing alright. Stephanie was not with us. She'd raised hell when she told her she couldn't come, but Mike and I were in agreement and refused to budge. She was brave and resourceful, but she wasn't a fighter and she didn't make good decisions when she was emotional. Neither of us were willing to put her in any more danger if we could help it. Fortunately, Finder had sided with us, informing Stephanie that she would die if she came, and there was a good chance we'd die with her. I got the impression he was lying, but she bought it. Then he told us we needed to go, and warned us we were being tracked. I don't think he was lying about that part.

Lady consulted the sword again. Sir Hardy had never been to Vegas before, either, but he was able to give us the street names of the corner he was standing on, and Mike used the map function to find it on his phone. Another twenty minutes of navigating the city and we pulled up.

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There were two men on the corner. One was well dressed, in a grey suit and tie. I don't know much about formal wear, but it looked moderately expensive. He was short, maybe 5'7", with broad shoulders and blonde hair. He was also holding a sword that was nearly identical to Lady's.

Next to him was a taller man. 6', maybe 6'2". African American. He was dressed like a porn star from the 70s. Red bell bottoms. Cowboy boots. One of those blue shirts with giant lapels that shows off your chest hair. He had a brown headband and a small afro. A brown leather jacket completed the ensemble.

"That's them," Lady informed us. "Stop the car."

There wasn't any real parking space, so I just pulled up to the corner and turned on my hazard lights. Lady clambered out of the Jeep, somehow managing to look regal in crumpled sweats with one arm in a sling. The two men saw her and hurried over.

"My Lady," the British man's sword disappeared as he knelt. I mean that literally. He didn't palm it (can you palm a sword?) or drop it. It just disappeared. I glanced at where Lady had left her sword. It was still there. Wierd.

"Rise, Sir William." Lady smiled down at him. "It is good to see you."

The other man stepped forward. Only now did I remember the Green Knight had been with someone when he called. He smiled at the Lady of the Lake. "My Lady. It's been a while." His voice reminded me of a jazz singer. Smooth, deep, and with that classy lilt you hear in old movies.

The Lady in Sweats reacted very differently to the man in the afro than she had to Sir William. "Patrick!" she all but shouted. She threw herself into his arms. She clung to the man.

He nuzzled his face into her hair. "Good to see you too, baby." Mike chortled. I kind of agreed with him. I'd never seen anyone talk like that outside of a movie.

"I thought you were dead." She wasn't crying but it was a close thing. Patrick's reply was cut off by the sound of a car horn. I jumped. There hadn't been a car behind me when I pulled over.

Mike leaned out the window. "This is touching and all, but you should probably get in the car."

"Right," Sir Hardy agreed. "One moment." He was suddenly encased in a full suit of emerald green armor. He put a hand on Lady. When he removed it, the armor disappeared and he was back in his suit and tie. "There. That's better."

Lady thanked him and walked back to the Jeep. Her bruises were gone. She moved lightly and easily. The car behind us honked again. I pulled away from the curb the second our new passengers got in and closed the door.

"I take it you two cats are the ones who been looking after my girl?" Patrick inquired.

"Something like that," I responded. "I'm Kevin Shrive. That's Mike Cross."

"Nice to meet you," Mike added.

"Likewise," said Patrick. "I'm Patrick Brunson."

"A pleasure," said Sir William. "Sir William Hardy, at your service."

"Cool," said Mike. "Uh, if you don't mind me asking, why are you dressed like that?"

"Like what?" Patrick's brow furrowed. "This is how I dress."

"You look like an extra from a Dolemite movie."

"Dolemite?" Patrick grinned. "Dolemite got a movie?"

"Yeah, like fifty years ago." Mike frowned.

"Lady said you went missing," I told them, "but not when or how."

"Ah," said Sir William. "I see. The short version is an old enemy pulled us into a magic fairy land."

"Yeah," Patrick grimaced. "In the summer of 1973." He glared out the window. "Magic is bullshit."