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she saw Krissy. “Is this the one that tried to kill you?”
    “She was enthralled, May. It wasn’t her fault.”
    “Yeah. Maybe. What’s she doing here?”
    “She’s coming—”
    “I can speak for myself,” Krissy said. “Dave thinks I can join you guys.”
    May laughed, cruelly and derisively. “ Her ? She doesn’t exactly have the warrior look.”
    “As fascinating as this is,” Avalon said, “it would be best if we were moving. Vampires could very well be watching this building.”
    Avalon opened the sliding door and got in. May frowned, but she hopped in the driver’s seat. I was about to join her up front, but the commander motioned for Krissy and me to go with him.
    He closed the door, and May turned on the engine and put the van in a drive.
    “Once we get through the tunnel,” Avalon said, “it should be safe.”
    “Vampires and other supes mostly stay out of Queens,” I explained to Krissy.
    “Why, because it’s Queens?” Krissy laughed at her own joke.
    I smirked. “The Table’s regional headquarters is in Long Island City. Imagine that you were a bank robber. Would you spend much time in the same neighborhood as a major police precinct? It’s the same principle. Supes stay away from Long Island City.”
    We rolled in silence for a few moments until Avalon said, “Mister Carver, I am going to enlist you into the Knights of the Round Table. Do you understand what that means? I am.”
    I nodded. As NorAmOps Commander, Avalon would normally be the guy to choose the Captain of the New York office. But I guessed Bill Foster had made a strong suggestion that I was the man for the job. Bill was the new Pendragon, and one of the greatest warriors in the Table’s history. During a time of war, it would have been near political suicide to disobey such a suggestion. Avalon was stuck with me, but he was letting me know that he was in charge.
    “Alrighty,” I said. “Let’s do it.”
    Avalon scowled, like he couldn’t believe somebody like me could possible exist, let alone be put in charge of a division of the Knights of the Round Table. But William Foster Pendragon had spoken, and Avalon had to play the good little soldier.
    “David William Carver,” he said, his voice even more haughty and formal. “Do you swear to defend humanity from all dangers supernatural?”
    “I do,” I said.
    “Do you swear to be mankind’s shield against the darkness?”
    “I do.”
    “And do you swear to use your sword faithfully and only in defense of those under your care?”
    “I do.”
    “Then I, Gerard Avalon, Commander of the Round Table, name you David, Knight of the Round Table. With the approval of William Foster Pendragon, Prince-General of our order, I name you Captain of the Round Table in charge of New York City and its surrounding areas.” He smiled bitterly. “Congratulations, Captain.”
    Avalon reached under his bench seat and slid out a huge sports equipment bag, like the kind they use to transport hockey gear. From one of the side pockets he took out a medallion shaped more or less like his. Mine just had a C chiseled in its front. I pinned it to the collar of my jacket.
    Now it was official—I was Captain Carver.
    I looked at Avalon. “Thank you, sir. Now, where’s my sword?”
    Avalon smirked, and he unzipped the bag. Without another word, he took out my sword.
    When he joins the Knights of the Round Table, each knight is given a sword. No one knows how they’re made, except for a secretive organization called the Swordmakers who were trained either by the Lady of the Lake or the wizard Merlin, depending on who you ask, but one thing is for sure: each sword contains the same power as Excalibur, the legendary weapon of Arthur Pendragon. They’re magic, basically, and they can hurt or even kill just about anything, even things that laugh at ordinary mortal weapons. The things that dwell in the dark have a healthy respect for the swords of the Round Table.
    Even sheathed in its