Hot Knights

by Rue Allyn

  “Most of the death I have seen has been earned.” His expression gave away nothing.

  “Good for you.”

  “It is admirable that among such death, you have survived.”

  There was a long moment of silence as she tried to read his gaze. Was he concerned? Sarcastic? Either way, she wanted to pinch herself. Because the ravishing beast of a man still stood before her, and she swore his eyes seemed kind.

  In a lethal kind of way.

  Finally, he broke the silence. “How does a fierce protector like yourself come to leave your Life Tree?”

  “My Life Tree? Well, these days our government protects forests. So my job was done. And besides, more and more people kept coming to visit the giant redwoods. Kinda hard to hide in a tourist attraction. You know, if Artemis witnessed your manhandling of me earlier, you’d be a toad or a stag about now.”

  And then he did something she couldn’t believe. He winked at her.

  “I’d risk it, Dryad.”

  Tera got an idea in her mind and began softly humming a sweet song. Her voice was ethereal, like the sound of winds rushing between mountains, just a whisper.

  Sabin’s large body flipped upside down. As he struggled to look up to his feet, she wasn’t sure if he could see a tree branch wrapped around his ankle, holding him suspended in the air.

  “So the legends are true. Dryads can communicate with trees?”

  “I was created in a tree, of course I know its language.” She walked a slow circle around his handsome, dangling form. She whispered in song, her lips humming and in another moment the tree recoiled its strong branch, becoming firm once again as it dropped him. “C’mon, Knight, let’s get you a shirt.”

  The cab pulled up, right on time.

  “They do not make garments for beings my size, but I would happily follow you until I sense the presence of the Nunanish.”

  “We do have beings of your size, Knight. They’re called basketball players.”

  Chapter Seven

  The onyx mirror was deep with darkness, but on the surface, the Goddess of Chaos watched events unfold in the Realm of the Fog. The Knights from far and wide had assembled to discuss what had occurred. When the Knight called Rowen finished explaining the Nunanish escape from the Asuras plane, the immortal warriors were deep in thought as they contemplated the best course of action to take, if any.

  The Knight called Zeth spoke. “We are commanded to keep the peace and to contain demons within the Realm of the Fog, including ourselves. There are other warriors who would seek out the Nunanish, but the Knight’s job is here.”

  “No,” challenged Rowen. “It was my men and I that lapsed in our duty, and we feel compelled to contain the matter.”

  “Your Knight, Sabin, has gone already.”

  In this moment, the Goddess of Chaos spied her chance to create discord, and possibly a war in the Dryad’s homeland. Sweeping her hand mystically into her onyx mirror, the Goddess blew on her palm toward the image of the Knights of the Fog, willing her essence into them.

  Suddenly, uneasiness seized the Knights, leaving their bodies tight with tension. After a moment of silence, arguments broke out in a testosterone-fueled frenzy.

  “You, Rowen! You are covering for your comrade Sabin.”

  Another loud voice rang out. “Yes, it is suspicious that after so many years of success your Sabin has allowed a mere Nunanish to escape. Any strong Knight could contain that demon.” Zeth roared his loaded statement, implying Sabin’s obvious guilt.

  Rowen was silent in contemplation for a moment.

  “Sabin has chosen to relinquish his duties in the Realm of the Fog. He used the Nunanish as a reason to escape to the Human Realm and forsake his duty,” one Knight suggested.

  “This is treason!” shouted another voice.

  “It is the code of the order—we must execute Sabin the deserter.”

  But Rowen still looked uneasy. “Sabin was a Knight to the core; he lived for his duties.”

  But the warriors that surrounded him seemed convinced otherwise. “Your opinion is tainted by your friendship. Sabin must be contained and brought back for judgment.”

  “He will be found guilty.”

  “Which of us will go after him?” The voices overlapped, eager to action.

  Three Knights of the Fog were chosen to pursue Sabin, the lost Knight. They gathered at the portal to the Human Realm, which would drop them on an island in the San Francisco Bay. Their mission: bring back their traitor, dead or alive.

  • • •

  On the corner of San Jose and Grand Street in Alameda, the Reed Coven was gathered at their family home. The large Victorian home was both beautiful and eerie. The gray-white house was pale and lacking in color, unlike some of the colorful counterparts in Alameda. The horizontal wooden planks were framed on all edges by pristine white brick. Crawling vines covered the entire side of the two-story house. The various levels of depth of the decorations on the façade made it an architectural feast for the eyes. The large front lawn was enclosed by a wrought-iron fence tangled with more vines and crawling flowers. From the gate to the steps of the home, every inch of the ground was covered in flora. When it was just Sparrow’s family, the grounds had been a massive jungle of random weeds that towered in height over most visitors. But since Tera had moved in, her green thumb had created an incredible oasis. Between the decorative, pediment doorway and the bay windows on the front of the house hung a beautiful trumpet flower tree, whose pendulous yellow flowers emitted an intoxicating scent in the evening. Weaving its way along the tall wrought-iron fence on the side yard was an equally fragrant wisteria.

  Heavy drapes hung in each bay window ensuring privacy. The only hint that a witch’s coven had the entire house to themselves was the pink neon light in the lower front window that read “Fortunes told here.” Below the advertisement was the glowing outline of a palm and a crystal ball. Inside the home, the Coven Reed was closed for business but hard at work consulting their looking glass.

  “Sparrow Reed! Do not encourage your aunts.” The voice of Sparrow’s mother echoed throughout the large home. Egret Reed was a no-nonsense kind of woman. At forty-five, she spent her time showing real estate and reading books, not doing spells. Egret did not practice witchcraft growing up as her sisters had. Although the Reed family were born Wiccans, Egret had long ago lost her innate abilities, and she couldn’t have cared less. Although her mother, sisters and daughter all lived in the grand home, it could still seem entirely too small for her sisters’ antics.

  “Sparrow!” This time the voice was Melissandra’s. “We need more anise burning.” Her aunt gathered up her full skirt in one palm as she rushed here and there across the kitchen making a special tea for their upcoming ritual.

  “Aunt Melissandra, I’m already choking on the herb smoke as it is,” Sparrow’s reply echoed from the divination room. The long rectangular space was meant to be a dining room, but now it served mostly magickal purposes.

  Her mother’s voice boomed from upstairs. “Like I said, Sparrow, don’t encourage them. And besides, Grams is trying to sleep.”

  “Mom, this is important.” Sparrow knew that her grandma wasn’t asleep at all but probably putting a stutter hex on the U.S. Secretary of Defense. Grandma Patricia Reed was wickedly political, and somewhat crazy, one could argue, but the conservative covens dared not to mess with her. “It’s about Tera and the portal.”

  “Tell that to my clothes, dear daughter. My wardrobe reeks so much of anise that I’ll never show a house. My customers will think I’m a homeless hippie.”

  It was Morgana’s time to chime in from a hallway somewhere in the house. “Oh Egret, get over yourself. You dress too boring to ever be considered a hippie.”

  Sparrow laughed at the banter as she lit more anise, and then blew it out to continue smoking the divination room.

  Morgana and Melissandra walked into the room carrying a large pot of tea and a bottle of booze. Both aunts had long
flowing skirts and tops that could barely be seen from under the heaping silver and pearl jewelry. Morgana’s lips were a bright red, Melissandra’s a dramatic plum. “One Mugwort Skullcap Mix tea. Just the thing we need to ensure a successful visionary experience,” said Morgana. Next to the teapot, she set down a large, square bottle of green alcohol and three shot glasses.

  “Okay, now don’t forget, after each gulp of the Mugwort tea, chase it with an absinthe shot,” Melissandra advised.

  “You mean we aren’t going to light the absinthe on fire this time, sister?”

  Morgana shook her head. “We don’t have time for that tonight.”

  Sparrow swallowed. The last time they tried to scry this way, the visionary experience turned into more of a karaoke and conga line night than anything else. Scrying entailed a crystal that hung from a string, which acted as the channel for the coven’s mystical energies. Holding the crystal over the map, the gem would begin to move toward a spot, enlightening the practitioner to the sought-after location.

  Egret’s voice called out again from upstairs. “Did I hear someone say absinthe? I told you, no more absinthe chasers on vision quests!”

  Morgana responded, “Don’t worry, sister; it’s just the local absinthe, not the potent stuff.” But then she gave an emphatic wink in Sparrow’s direction.

  Melissandra giggled, her crow’s feet crinkling with mischief. “You bad sister, I know this is the stuff we smuggled in from the Czech Republic.”

  “Yep. But what Egret doesn’t know won’t hurt her. Just let her iron her pantsuits in peace. Sparrow darling, turn on Mozart’s Lacrimosa and let’s get down to business.”

  With that, the classical, eerie opera music began playing and the ladies all sat down at the table together. A purple velvet tablecloth lay atop the round surface, with a crystal ball and a large map of the Bay Area in the middle.

  The ritual was meant to be a double-whammy type of spell. The trio would scry for Tera’s location, and hopefully gain a vision of her and whatever was coming out of the portal. Sparrow, Morgana, and Melissandra raised their teacups and began chanting.

  In the name of the Coven Reed

  Take us to Agrotera of the trees.

  Where she stands and what unfolds

  By our will so mote it be.

  They repeated the incantation before each gulp of piping hot tea. Then the Wiccans threw back their heads as they swallowed a shot of mint-colored absinthe. As the shot burned in their throats, they chanted once again, keeping their minds blank for whatever may come.

  A full cup of tea and four shots of absinthe later, the moon was set and the Reed Wiccans were intoxicated and near passing out. The single song that Sparrow had played was over, and now the women sat in silence, their hands grasping each other’s around the circular table.

  “Heyyy, isss this thing working?” Sparrow let go of Morgana’s hand for a moment to knock on the crystal ball. Sparrow, the coven lightweight when it came to alcohol, felt her hand collide with a full shot glass, sending it spilling across the table.

  “Sparrow, don’t sever the connection!” Letting the liquid leak across the table, Morgana captured her niece’s hand within her own once more. Slowly the absinthe traveled across the velvet and eventually began soaking the map. But as the intoxicated coven looked in a daze at the spill, they noticed it traveled a determined path. Driven by magick, the absinthe pooled in a neat circle around Yerba Buena Island.

  The soft tissue where their hands met began to glow, whether from the effects of the absinthe and tea or from the power emanating from them, Sparrow didn’t know. But soon the crystal ball before her began to dance with images.

  “It’s beginning.” Melissandra slurred all-knowingly.

  Tera’s image flickered in the crystal ball. She was standing in a forest, but it didn’t look like the Muir Woods where she would have gone with Artemis.

  “Awwww,” Sparrow drawled sleepily. “Looks like someone wore her favorite leather pants. Trying to immmpress someone.”

  “The Goddesssss would expect no less—heyyyy.” Morgana and the others gasped unexpectedly as the next image flickered of Tera’s back against a tree, her thighs wrapped around a large male with white hair and icy-blue eyes.

  “Stud, stud, stud muffin.” Melissandra managed before she hiccupped.

  The next image sent the Wiccans nearly doubling over in hysterics as Tera flickered in the crystal ball, spraying her handsome friend with mace. “Damn,” Sparrow hiccupped. “Now that’s playing hard to get.”

  The crystal ball turned murky with darkness and smoke, and the Wiccans were forced to look very closely. The thick haze in the crystal ball parted, revealing a nightmare. The site of the island portal was swarming with chaos. Demons dropped out of the mystical barrier in massive numbers and feasted upon the people at the island. A wave of violence swept through demons and humans alike and the Bay Area was overrun with domestic warfare. The air was filling with fists being thrown, guns being fired. The sound of gunshots and screams a deafening nightmare. Blood swirled around the crystal ball until the trio could see nothing else except for flashes of gunfire.

  Pain shot through each of the Wiccans as they experienced this foretelling of a horrific event to come. Scenes of chaos blurred their vision until Sparrow, Morgana, and Melissandra each faded to black, unconscious and helpless to stop the nightmarish future they foresaw.

  Chapter Eight

  The short trip back to the heart of San Francisco from Yerba Buena Island was quiet. After the cab dropped them back off at the pier to procure him a shirt, Sabin seemed to be assessing every aspect and detail of the world he was surrounded by. In turn, Tera was trying to discern how to best deal with the handsome, yet highly aggravating warrior. The Goddess Artemis would slap some sense into Tera if she ever found out how much Agrotera had truly enjoyed the taste of Sabin’s lips.

  “I’m very suspicious that the Nunanish has not made its presence evident. They rarely turn their back on an opportunity to incite violence,” Sabin said.

  Tera cringed at his choice of small talk. Hopefully no passersby got suspicious. After all, the hulking brute next to her looked strange enough walking down the sidewalk.

  “Maybe it just wants to hang out, see some sights. The cable cars are super fun and Ghirardelli Square is right there.”

  “It must die.” Sabin spoke harshly.

  “I agree. It was a joke. Geesh. I guess there isn’t much comedic relief in the Realm of the Fog.” Tera raised an eyebrow and shook her head in disapproval.

  The mission to find him a shirt had been much needed, as the sight of his broad muscular chest was attracting entirely too much attention, her own eyes included. Now Sabin walked out of a store with a tourist t-shirt stretched across his chest that read “Alcatraz Triathlon: Dig, Dive and Run.” Tera wondered if he realized that he had chosen a shirt for the island where he came through the portal. But the Alcatraz gift shop on Fisherman’s Wharf was one of the only places open after the earlier “gas leak.” The white shirt just barely fit and didn’t leave any of his muscles to the imagination.

  “Nice choice.” Tera shook her head at the sight of him. It was silly seeing the otherworldly warrior in a tourist shirt, but he still looked mouthwatering.

  “It was the largest shirt they had. Thank you for your assistance, Dryad. I’m sorry I do not have the currency required of your world.”

  “No problem, Knight. So, can I have my wallet back? I’m gonna hail us another cab.”

  “Can we not go on foot? Where do you take me, Agrotera?”

  The sound of her name on his tongue made Tera feel like a schoolgirl—not that she ever went to school. “You know, you can call me Dryad if you want.” Her name sounded far too much like a seduction coming from his lips. Tera halted to hail a cab drawing near.

  Sabin came up just behind her, silent and light-footed, catching her by surprise. He whispered softly against her ear. “Does it make you uncomfortable when I speak to you
like a lover, Tera?”

  Tera forgot all about the cab and turned to face him just as he was about to nibble on her ear. “It’s getting dark and there’s no way I’m taking you to my home, so I thought I’d get us a couple of rooms near Golden Gate Park. If we stay in the city we’ll be closer to wherever the Nunanish is hiding, and the park could give us some cover if we needed it.”

  Sabin raised a hand to hail the cab that she had all but forgotten. The yellow Prius pulled over, and he opened the door for her. “Are you sure about this transportation?” Sabin eyed the interior of the cramped vehicle.

  For a moment, she hesitated before getting in, knowing it would be a tight squeeze with the warrior. No doubt their bodies would be molded together in the back seat. “This isn’t New York, we don’t have tons of cabs here, and we should take this one since we have it. You can sit in the front seat.”

  But Sabin grinned. “I’ll sit in the back with you.”

  Heaving a sigh, she resigned herself to the narrow backseat. “Of course you will.”

  Ten minutes later, she was pretty sure she knew every hard crevice of Sabin’s powerful body. The warrior had delighted in the cramped space, pulling her against his hard stomach so he could stretch his legs out around her. Despite her best efforts to maneuver her way to the other side of the seat, Sabin’s firm arm wrapped around her like a lover.

  “Thank goodness, I thought we’d never get here. Thanks.” Tera paid and tipped the driver as he pulled up in front of the Red Victorian Bed and Breakfast on Haight Street.

  “This place is just a couple blocks from Golden Gate Park and is pretty close to everything so we should be good,” she announced.

  “I never doubted you, Dryad. And I quite enjoyed the road despite your tiny human earth-bound vehicles.”

  “Ummm, okay.” Tera started to walk through the bright red doors of the old-fashioned building in San Francisco’s busy hippy hang-out. Sabin looked quite out of place standing on the sidewalk as scrawny, long-haired, wanna-be hippies and Mohican-punksters squatted here and there, smoking and playing guitar. In contrast, Sabin towered over everyone in the vicinity, and his hulking stature made him look like Russian mafia. In a word, he looked more James Bond than John Lennon. Tera couldn’t help but smile. “C’mon, big guy.”