Knight's Curse

by Karen Duvall

  “We heard about it on the radio.” Elmo handed me a glass of water and I gulped it down. “They’re still putting out the flames.”

  I gasped in a breath, my lungs feeling too small to fill with the oxygen I needed to talk. I pointed at my ankle. “Maågan.”

  Aydin grimaced. “Nasty creatures. Coffee grounds work really well at drawing out the poison. How did you get out of the house?”

  Once I was able to breath normal again, I told Elmo and Aydin what had happened with Barachiel. When they asked what had caused the explosion, I shrugged. “I’m not sure. I was already outside when it happened.” Though I wondered if the buildup of magic from the Vyantara’s collection had attributed to the cause.

  “You’re lucky to be alive.” Elmo made a poultice of coffee grounds for my demon wound and wrapped a dish towel around my ankle to hold it in place. I started to feel better almost immediately. “It’s a good thing Aydin left when he did.”

  “Where did you go?” I asked him.

  “Come and I’ll show you.” He helped me up and I grabbed him around the waist to keep from falling over as he guided me to the small room behind Elmo’s kitchen.

  There, lying faceup on the cot, was Quin’s body.

  “What the hell?” This was the last thing I needed to see. “I thought he was to be cremated.”

  “That was Gavin’s original plan, yes,” Aydin said. “I found out Quin was dead just before going to see Geraldine. When I told her what had happened to him, she said I should save his body. That his death was only temporary.”

  “Are you saying he’s a zombie?” I envisioned a mindless, flesh-eating corpse. I’d encountered one in Haiti a couple of years ago and preferred not to repeat the experience. “If he is, we’ll have to chop off his head. That’s the only way to stop those things.”

  “No one’s chopping off anyone’s head.” Aydin went on to explain how Geraldine had been immune to her executioner’s efforts at ending her life. “She kept coming back until they finally had to cut her into pieces and set fire to her entrails. They’d thought that was the end of her, but they were obviously wrong.” He swallowed and jerked a nod at the corpse on the cot. “Once the Arelim believe it safe for him to come back, Quin’s soul will return to his body.”

  I sat in one of the two director-style chairs across from Quin’s corpse. My ankle still throbbed and I elevated it on a wooden box Elmo used as a nightstand. “When will that be?”

  “Now that the danger is past, he should come back anytime now.”

  We both gazed down at the angel whisperer’s body. His face was white as parchment, his lips pale violet with black scabs where they had split. Several contusions mottled his skin where Gavin had beaten him literally to death. If he lived, he’d be sore as hell for a few days unless miraculous healing was part of the bargain for playing on the good angels’ team.

  “How did you get him here?” I asked. “I didn’t see the Hummer outside. Did you hide it around the block?”

  Aydin shook his head. “Remember the harness I told you about? The one I use with Shojin?”

  “You didn’t!”

  “It was the only way to get Quin here without Gavin finding out.” He reached down and touched two fingers to the side of Quin’s neck, then shook his head. No change. “I intercepted the Hummer at the crematorium and then I, uh, convinced Gavin’s men to take a nap.”

  And experience told me just how he’d done it, too. “So when you came to me at the summoning room, you’d already taken care of Quin.”

  He nodded. “I managed to get him here, but there was more I had to do. That’s why I didn’t stay while you performed the ritual. I had to help Elmo get Quin’s body inside the shop. Shojin is a loyal friend, but he has his limitations. He’s not very agile on his feet.”

  I shuddered. It still bothered me that Aydin had befriended his gargoyle. Even Barachiel had labeled gargoyles as “winged devils,” which I considered pretty damn demonic. Speaking of Shojin, it was time for me to break the big news.

  “What is it?” Aydin asked me, one corner of his mouth lifting in a wary grin. “You look happy all of a sudden.”

  I patted the chair next to me. “You should sit down for this.”

  Frowning, he took a seat.

  “I learned how to kill a gargoyle.”

  He stared at me, unblinking.

  “Use another gargoyle to kill it.”

  Now he blinked.

  I had expected a more exuberant reaction. I leaned forward to clarify my point. “Don’t you get it? That’s why gargoyles are always kept apart. If they fight, one will die, and the dead one’s bonded human will be freed. So we have to get our gargoyles to fight each other….” My shoulders slumped as I made a realization. “But only one dies, meaning only one of us would go free.”

  Aydin licked his lips and looked away. “I don’t want to lose Shojin.”

  This wasn’t going as planned. “Shojin can take Shui, you know he can. He’s twice his size.”

  “And he’s centuries older, too, and not half as vicious.” Aydin stood and shoved both hands in his pocket. “He’s not as strong as he used to be.”

  I couldn’t believe he was balking at this. My freedom was at stake, and so was his. He knew how much it meant to me, how desperately I wanted, no, needed to be free. Had he been a slave so long that he couldn’t tell the difference anymore? The Vyantara trusted him, allowed him to do whatever he liked, to go wherever he pleased, and his bond to his gargoyle had become more friendship than burden. Freedom didn’t mean as much to him as it did to me. “Aydin, I’m begging for your help. Where else can I find a gargoyle to fight Shui?”

  He paced from one end of the little room to the other, a disturbing resemblance to Gavin. Thank heavens they were nothing alike. Aydin massaged his chin while looking pensive. “Hundreds of gargoyles exist throughout the world, but the majority are kept on Mahdi Island. It’s a deserted rock just off the coast of Yemen.”

  Yemen? In the Middle East? That was way too far away, but I still had to ask. “Can you find one for me there?”

  “Possibly.” He looked at me then, his gaze intense. “Only there isn’t time.”

  I didn’t understand.

  “Your cycle completes in two days. I doubt Shui will be too cooperative after you managed to burn down his house and kill all his friends.”

  Shui couldn’t hold me responsible for what had happened to the Fatherhouse, though I’d happily take credit. The destruction of the house and the evil it contained was a boon for all things good in this world. “That wasn’t my fault.”

  “But it was your father’s. Shui won’t see the difference.”

  Knowing Shui, Aydin was right. “You can talk Shojin into fighting, can’t you? He’s a big, strong gargoyle, not a stocky monkey with wings like Shui. There’s no contest. And I bet Shojin would love to take a bite out of that ugly beast. Can you at least try?”

  He gave me a sad smile and jerked a nod.

  “Great!” My heart swelled with hope. “Where is Shojin?”

  “The minute we heard about the Fatherhouse blowing up, I sent him to Quin’s house to lay low.”

  “There’s a gargoyle in my house?” Quin’s voice sounded weak and froggy, but his British accent was crisp as ever.

  As much as I would have liked to get up and give him a hug, my agonized ankle wouldn’t let me. I was incredibly happy to see him alive and amazed that his resurrection was even possible. I felt very thankful he hadn’t turned into a zombie. “Quin, I can’t tell you how glad I am that you’re back.”

  He turned his head to see me better. “No thanks to you.”

  Nothing like a grudge to kill the buzz of a welcome-back party. But I didn’t blame him. I was surprised he’d even speak to me at all. “I’m really sorry about everything. If I’d known how far Gavin would go, I’d have lied to him much sooner.”

  Quin propped himself up on his elbows. “You summoned a fallen angel? And he’s your dad? The Are
lim told me all about it, but I still think it’s nutters.”

  Though thrilled to have him back, I didn’t like his tone. “You can’t fault me for who my parents are. It’s not like I was given a choice.”

  He winced while trying to sit up. Aydin rushed to help him, and Elmo gathered up more pillows to support his back. “I know what you mean,” Quin said. “I wouldn’t be what I am today without the help of my family’s legacy. My gift isn’t always well received and it can be troublesome.” He frowned while glancing around the room, his lip drawn back from his teeth in distaste. “I never know where it will take me.”

  “So you’re not mad?”

  He tilted his head back and angled it side to side, the heel of his hand pushing his chin until his neck cracked. “Ah, better. Oh, I’m upset all right, but it’s that awful Gavin character I’m mad at. You’re right that I shouldn’t blame you.”

  My shoulders slumped in relief, though I still felt guilty. If my lie to Gavin had come earlier, I could have saved him from enduring as much torture as he had. “Was it painful?”

  He shook his head. “The Arelim put me in a trance. I felt nothing.” But he did now. His tongue ran over his bottom lip and he grimaced. “I take it the ritual went well, then?”

  I nodded. “Barachiel came through, and he was terrific. Protective. And fierce. He even blew up the Fatherhouse.”

  “Did he now?” Quin appeared mildly impressed, though he should have been astounded by my father’s power. On second thought, I had my own reservations about the mysterious dark angel. Barachiel would have to do a lot more than stop time and destroy my enemy to earn my trust. Where was he now? He had some explaining to do.

  Quin’s face suddenly fell like a bad soufflé. “The hand.”

  Oh, no. Saint Geraldine’s other hand, the one we’d found in Quin’s workshop. I’d forgotten all about it.

  “It’s sitting on my workbench.” He began to fidget, then started rummaging through the sheets and blankets. “Where are my clothes? I’ve got to hurry home. If the Vyantara get hold of it—”

  “Relax,” Aydin said. “It’s right here.” He went to a wooden trunk in the corner and lifted the lid. Inside was the glass case containing the mummified hand.

  Quin hissed out a relieved breath and sat back against the pillows again. “Thank you.”

  I turned an adoring gaze on Aydin and my heartbeat picked up speed. The man was a wonder. Embarrassed by my own thoughts, I blinked away all signs of admiration and said to Quin, “We hid it inside the basement wall right after we found it.” Looking at Aydin, I asked, “You went back to get it?”

  Aydin nodded. “I’ve been losing ground with the Vyantara for years. It was just a matter of time before someone figured out they had a traitor in their midst.” He threw back a canvas tarp that I had assumed was Elmo’s unique style of home decor. Beneath the heavy fabric were stacks of crates, boxes and trunks. They were the same ones that had been in the storage room inside Aydin’s house. Settled on top was the small wooden cube that held—

  “Ruby!”

  The top of the box flipped up and the thimble-size frog hopped out. She leapt into my open hands and chirped.

  “Blimey.” Quin blinked. “Is it real?”

  “She’s not a toy.” Aydin petted the bejeweled creature with his finger. “And she’s taken quite a shine to Chalice.”

  The feeling was mutual.

  “You take your personal possessions very seriously,” I said to Aydin. “Does it all have as much sentimental value as our little friend?”

  “You could say that.” He replaced the tarp.

  I glanced at Quin and did a double take. The bruises had lightened to a yellowish green and his split lips were already healed over. The scars looked good on him. It gave his handsome face more character.

  “What else do you have stashed away, Quin?” I asked, having wondered that since the day we found Geraldine’s hand. “Any more body parts?”

  “No.” He swung his legs over the side of the cot and leaned forward, forearms on his knees. “I’d like to find them, though. The legend of Saint Geraldine claims that once her head is reunited with her other parts, she’ll become whole and live again.”

  “Do you believe that?” Aydin gazed at him intently.

  Quin shifted his eyes with uncertainty. “As there’s some truth to every lie, I believe there’s validity behind every legend.”

  When Aydin didn’t comment, Quin turned an expectant gaze on me.

  “I think you’re right.” I thought about Geraldine’s disembodied head, her loneliness and isolation inside an air-locked tomb in a church basement. I wanted the legend of reuniting her parts to be true. It was a travesty for her to remain a bodyless knight from the Crusades who talked to angels. She should live again as a whole person. No question about it. “If I told you we know where her head is—”

  “Stop.” Aydin stepped forward. “Don’t tell him any more.”

  Quin’s eyes brightened. “I already know. The Cathedral Basilica, right? It’s here in Denver. The Arelim told me.”

  Aydin sat back down in the chair beside me. “How do we know we can trust you?”

  “There’s no reason you shouldn’t.” He sounded indignant. “You already know I talk to angels. The Arelim told me about Chalice, about the Order of the Hatchet. And I know Saint Geraldine was one of the first knights.”

  Aydin studied him, his gaze wary. He was very protective of Geraldine, and I assumed that to be true of all the knights in my order. My order. It felt wonderful to think that, even if I only said it to myself. My sister knights. My people.

  “We should tell him everything.” I looked hopefully at Aydin. “Think about it. We could use his help contacting the Arelim to locate the other Hatchet knights. After what he’s just been through to protect the Arelim and the order, he deserves our trust.”

  Aydin closed his eyes, his expression stern but thoughtful.

  I reached for his hand and curled my fingers around his. It didn’t hurt that much. I’d grown used to his touch. “We have to do whatever we can for the order. And for Geraldine.”

  He sighed and nodded at Quin. “The Vyantara have had Geraldine’s head since the day she was executed.”

  “My heart goes out to her.” Quin’s eyes filled with tears. “After all the years my ancestors have searched, their goal to bring her back to the world of the living, and she’s been with the enemy all along?”

  “Not with the enemy,” I corrected. “Owned by them. She’s not on their side, Quin. She’ll speak to no one but her fellow knights.”

  “She’s spoken to you?”

  “Yes.”

  Aydin’s eyes looked mournful when he said, “And to me.”

  Quin tilted his head to the side, squinting as if confused. “What do you mean by ‘speak?’ You’re talking telepathically, right?”

  “No, I’m saying she talks.” I cleared my throat. “She may not have a body, but her head is just fine, and so is her tongue.”

  He gazed at me like I’d just sprouted a third eye. “Where, exactly, is her head being kept?”

  “It’s safely stored inside a hermetically sealed vault in the church’s basement,” Aydin said.

  The Arelim had told Quin a lot, but he didn’t know everything. It took us an hour to update him about Geraldine and her plan for the Hatchet knights, as well as my role in it. That is, if my humanity survived the gargoyle’s curse. Staying human, especially now that Shui would no longer cooperate to keep me that way, would be a challenge. What we did in the next day or two would determine my future, or lack of it.

  During our discussion, Quin looked appropriately amazed in all the right places and waved us on when we brought up anything he already knew, like how the Hatchet knights had come to be. He was better versed on the subject than I was, but the Fallen were as much a mystery to him as they were to Aydin and I. He assumed they stayed behind the black veil.

  “I thought that, too,” I told him.
“And maybe some do. But Barachiel said he’s from somewhere else.”

  “Where?” Quin asked.

  I shrugged. “He didn’t say. But he did tell me I’d see him again. That he would find me.”

  Aydin glanced at the clock on the wall above Quin’s head. “It will be daylight soon and I want to get over to Quin’s house and make sure Shojin’s okay. He’s homeless now.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  Catching the look, Aydin quirked an eyebrow. “I’m concerned because I haven’t sensed him since he left here. Quin, is there iron in your workshop?”

  “Lots. I work with all metals.”

  “No wonder I can’t sense him,” Aydin said. “The iron is blocking me.”

  I remembered the jewelry we’d seen in Quin’s workshop the night he was taken. “I saw your Celestine crystal pendants. You do beautiful work.”

  He offered me a half smile. “Thanks. I sell them on commission to New Age shops, and online through eBay. It’s a hobby, but the crystals do help people stay in tune with their guardian angels.”

  Now I had to ask him something that had been bothering me since the day Gavin told me about having his guardian angel murdered. “Quin, can you tell me if I have a guardian angel?”

  He hesitated before saying, “I believe so, yes.”

  So weren’t these angels supposed to protect people? I found that hard to believe after what happened to me when I was just a kid. I felt the hackles on my neck rise. Controlling the growl in my voice, I asked, “Then where the hell is he?”

  Quin blinked, looking uncomfortable. “Chalice, I don’t have all the answers. I’d tell you if I knew, but I don’t.”

  “And as long as you’re bonded to Shui, no angel will come near you, at least none of the Arelim,” Aydin added. “We’ve been through this. What’s important now is that we focus on breaking your bond with Shui. We still have a couple of days, so let’s use that time to come up with a plan.” He yawned loudly. “I don’t know about you two, but I can’t concentrate if I don’t get some sleep.”

  I glanced around the little room that wasn’t much bigger than a walk-in closet. “There’s hardly enough space here for one of us to take a nap let alone three.”