Darkest Knight (2 page)

two

AS MUCH AS I WANTED TO MOURN SHOJIN’S
passing, I had to get the hell out of the house before a flood of Vyantara magic-users descended on me.

I gulped a shaky breath and glanced at the pink scar on the palm of my hand. My sigil was new, only a couple of weeks old, but that made the young scar no less effective. Eyes still stinging with the tears I held back, I smeared blood from my neck onto the scar and flattened my hand against the wall, waiting for the fluttery buzz that came with opening a veil. The tension in my shoulders increased with each passing second. The veil usually opened immediately. What was taking so long?

I clenched my jaw and listened. No thundering footsteps on the floor above, no wards sending out rays of lightning or demon warriors to take me out. No veil opening for my sigil, either. I began to wonder if I was in a time warp. I’d seen something like that done once. In fact, it was my fallen angel father who had made it happen.

I tried my sigil again. Nothing. What the hell?

I looked at the stone heart I still held and rolled my eyes. Of course the veil wouldn’t open. Gargoyles, and anything associated with a gargoyle that wasn’t angel-blessed, was not allowed through the silver veil. As long as I had the heart I was stuck here.

But that didn’t explain why the Vyantara hadn’t come running at the sound of battle. I went back to the basement stairs and stepped cautiously up to the top. That’s when I saw the halt charm. About six inches tall, it was the figure of a hand woven with strips of bark from an ancient oak tree. I recognized it because I’d stolen the charm from a museum in Wales about five years ago for the Vyantara. It was one of many magical artifacts I’d been forced to steal as their indentured thief. The charm’s fingers were spread out in a stop gesture and its palm faced the door. Someone had placed it there to soundproof the basement.

Charms don’t work on me, which is why I could hear Shojin’s beating heart when I was on the other side of the door. I suspected Shojin himself had placed the charm here, and not to keep me from finding him, but to keep others away once I did. And it had worked.

But that didn’t solve my current problem. The only way I knew out of the house was through the house itself.

I wasn’t doing myself any favors by standing still, so I freed the spare butterfly knife from my ankle sheath and opened the basement door. Greeted by silence, I took it as a good sign and continued making my way through the kitchen. Getting to the basement in the first place had been no problem, so chances were good I’d get out of the house just as easily. A lot could be said for positive thinking.

I crept through the main part of the house where glass-lidded tables displayed dusty old relics tagged by yellowing strips of paper. Each one had a typed word and number that referenced it for the Vyantara’s catalog. They made their money by selling off these cursed and charmed antiques to the highest bidder. There were hundreds of them in this room alone.

I stopped and listened to the silence, hearing only the low thrum of slow heartbeats and the smooth breathing of those in sleep. No one would miss an object or two…or three. Along with the bottle of salt water I used for destroying spells, I always carried a special pouch that hid magical objects from detection. I’d simply toss a handful of these in the pouch and be on my way.

A pocket watch inscribed with a protection spell would be useful for my sister knights in the Order of the Hatchet. Our knighthood shared a bond of nearly a thousand years, starting when our ancestors fought side by side in the Crusade Wars. Each generation gave birth to daughters spawned by their guardian angels. My sisters still fought together, and though the war had changed, the goal of vanquishing evil remained the same. I was proud to be one of them.

I dropped the watch in my pouch along with a fountain pen filled with invisible ink that made the writer disappear instead of the words. Then I found something I wouldn’t mind having for myself if I weren’t immune: a dove’s feather that enabled the user to fly.

Treasures in hand, I headed for the front door, which appeared farther away than it had only minutes ago. In fact, the faster I walked the more distance I created between the door and me. Déjà vu.

The same thing had happened to me on my first night at the Denver fatherhouse. I suspected a similar ward had been triggered here and the apparition of my demon foe would appear any second. A fuzzy image took shape in the foyer and a zigzag of energy wiggled through it like a weak signal on a television screen. Blackish-purple and bald, green eyes glowing, the Maågan demon offered me a menacing grin as if it knew me. Perhaps it did. I had severed the arm from one of its cousins a few weeks ago when it tried to stop my escape from a building that was about to explode.

I was fresh out of gargoyle blades and I doubted the knife I had would even make a dent in that thing. Its hide was strong as iron. At the moment it was only a projection from the hellish realm of the black veil, like the warning growl of an attack dog. If provoked, the creature would pop through to this side and kill me on the spot.

The last time I’d tried running from one, its claws had sliced my ankle and the venom had made me sick. I’d rather not repeat the experience, especially since the venom could be lethal. The Maågan didn’t know I had taken any magical objects because I’d hidden them inside the pouch.

I suddenly realized what had sparked the demon’s interest. Shojin’s heart. Shit.

The heart still felt warm in my hand, which I knew was stained purple with Shojin’s blood. Holding the pouch behind my back, I carefully slid the fist-size stone in with the rest of my booty. The Maågan continued to glare. I gritted my teeth and stalked toward it as I knew the creature respected anyone who confronted it head-on.

The distance closed between us, and the front door was now a mere few feet away. I didn’t make eye contact, but the demon’s gaze bored into me like twin lasers. Malice oozed from it like a septic sore. I lifted my chin and marched toward the exit.

I admit I was afraid. Not terrified, as I’d confronted much worse in recent weeks, but fearful enough to attract the house’s appetite. I felt my energy begin to drain. Between the Maågan’s murderous instinct and the building’s hunger, my hyper senses couldn’t do jackshit to keep me safe. I needed a miracle.

Knowing a sudden rush for the door would only kill me faster, I kept my movements slow and precise. My fingers curled around the door’s knob and relief overwhelmed me. As the door opened, a whoosh of frigid air cooled the sweat on my skin. I smelled snow. I could hear leafless branches rattle in the winter wind. An overcast sky opened briefly to allow a faint ray of moonshine to struggle through.

A quick tug on my jacket let me know I’d deluded myself into believing I was safe.

It jerked me backward, but I grabbed on to the door frame to hold fast. The fabric tore, but I felt no stinging pain from the Maågan’s razorlike claws as it searched for the pouch.

Still holding the pouch in one hand, I fisted the top to keep its contents from spilling out. The fingernails of my other hand dug into the door frame to anchor me in place. I’d lose this battle before long, but I refused to give up easily. I kicked backward, connecting with what might have been the demon’s head. It screeched and a roar of voices filtered down from the floor above. The home’s residents had awakened and they didn’t sound happy.

I was losing my grip and the threatening voices inside the house grew louder. A flap of giant wings forced my gaze upward and I half expected to see Shojin sweep down for the kill. But Shojin, whom I now thought of as a gentle giant, was dead. This must be another gargoyle. A hungry house and a demon weren’t enough for these guys? Give me a break.

I squinted up into the darkness and saw nothing but gray clouds and falling snow. Yet my nose detected more. Damp fur, old blood, and dirt that smelled like a farm. As well as a familiar scent that hurt my heart.

I barely had time to think when I saw the set of enormous curled talons appear inches from my face. They latched onto both my arms and lifted me aloft with the Maågan’s claws still gripping my jacket. I released my hold on the door frame and the jacket slipped free from my body. In a burst of speed, my rescuer surged upward, away from the fatherhouse and into the snow-filled sky above.

I was hardly conscious by the time my feet touched solid ground. Icy cold cut through me like a blade and my skin had turned numb. Frostbite would soon follow. The thought had barely touched my mind when a thick woolen blanket fell across my shoulders. Only one person knew me so well that he practically read my mind.

“Aydin.” I whispered his name, which was difficult to say with a nearly frozen tongue. He stayed out of my line of sight, but I heard him shuffling around in the dark. I took a minute to gaze at my surroundings. The crackle of a fire gave me tingles as I anticipated the warmth it would offer.

This structure must be his temporary home, a hidden place relatively close to Shojin. I imagined the Vyantara were still looking for Aydin, as he’d be a valuable asset if caught. Gargoyle assassins weren’t easy to come by. They were ancient creatures, but new ones could be made by binding humans with a curse that would transform them into winged devils. I’d been cruelly bonded to one named Shui, but the monster’s death had set me free. Aydin hadn’t been so lucky.

I sniffed the air. That’s where the farm smell had come from. This old farm looked abandoned, the barn’s walls rotted and boards missing, though it appeared Aydin had tried making repairs. His dexterity compromised by claws, he’d been ill-equipped to wield a hammer.

The scent of roasting meat wafted through the air. Rabbit. I grinned in spite of my situation. He’d never cooked for me when he was human.

“Thanks for coming to my rescue,” I said to the hulking shadow by the fire. This was the first time I’d noticed he had a tail and I watched it twitch like an irritated cat. “I’d be dead if not for you.”
Again
.

He grunted. That’s all he could do. The ability to speak wasn’t included in the gargoyle transformation package. He could, however, rip someone apart with his bare paws and chew through bones like they were jawbreaker candies.

“I’ve missed you, Aydin,” I said softly to his back. His bat wings were folded at his sides and they shifted as if in a shrug. “Did you miss me?”

He seemed to ignore me, but I sensed he was listening. So I prattled on. “I haven’t been back to Denver since, you know…that day.”

He growled low in his throat.

“I couldn’t agree more.” Though
I
had benefited from my experience, he had not. I wondered if he resented me for that. I wouldn’t blame him if he did.

“I’ve been staying with the Arelim since then,” I told him, and waited for his reaction. Guardians were Arelim angels from the twelfth order of the angelic hierarchy, sworn to protect the Hatchet knights. But Aydin had been my real protector. He had explained to me my role in the knighthood and showed me how magic could be good if used in a good way. He even taught me how to fall in love.

Aydin turned sideways to peer at me. His eyes were still that lovely shade of jade, clear as ice. His face, however, looked like that of an oversize cat. That didn’t matter because I would recognize him no matter what he was.

“The silver veil is kind of nice, but it’s too solitary—even for me. And to be honest, I felt claustrophobic most of the time. There’s nothing to do there but meditate.”

Aydin pulled something from the fire he’d been tending and blew on the flame that engulfed what was on the stick. Charred rabbit. So much for his cooking skills.

He gestured for me to come closer, which I eagerly did. I could hardly feel my feet and I stumbled. Aydin caught me before I did a face-plant on the hay-strewn ground. He was surprisingly gentle for a gargoyle, but he let go of me so quickly I nearly fell anyway.

“Thanks.” I sat on one of the logs positioned around the fire and he handed me the skewered rabbit. “Aren’t you going to have any?”

He glanced away, then turned his wedge-shaped head to stare at me. He placed both paws on his belly.

“Ah, I see. You’ve already eaten.” And no doubt his had been rabbit tartare.

Feeling warmer already, I pulled a leg off the rabbit and peeled away its burned hide before taking a bite. Not bad. Not bad at all. I devoured the meat as though I hadn’t eaten in days. Come to think of it, I couldn’t remember my last meal.

I didn’t like the awkward silence between us. I’d always felt comfortable with Aydin, and though I realized he couldn’t speak, it wasn’t a lack of words that made our meeting so uneasy. We were both different now and we hardly knew each other anymore. I hoped we still shared the same goals when it came to my sister knights in the Order of the Hatchet. In spite of everything, I still loved Aydin; claws, wings, fangs and all.

I cleared my throat. “Anyway…” I gently swung my pouch of ill-gotten gain between my knees and the few objects inside clattered against one another.

Aydin lifted his chin and wiggled his feline nose. He sniffed and jerked his head at the pouch in my hands.

It was time to tell him what was inside.

“This? I’ve begun reclaiming stolen artifacts from the Vyantara.” I held up the bag. “My sisters can make good use of these.” Our original plan had been for Aydin to help me steal back the magical objects from all the fatherhouses, then help me teach my sister knights how to use them to protect themselves.