The Black Knight Chronicles

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The Black Knight Chronicles Page 3

by John G. Hartness


  I ran at her. She flicked out her other fist almost faster than I could see, and certainly faster than I could dodge. She caught me square in the solar plexus and doubled me up with one ridiculous punch. Lucky for Tommy she only had two hands, because Greg came at her the same time I did and landed enough of a punch to knock her a step backward, making her let go of Tommy’s throat before she could finish strangling him.

  “You should not interfere, vampire. There are forces at work beyond your understanding.” Again, she used that creepy voice. This chick would have irritated me if I hadn’t been scared shitless.

  “Well,” Greg said in his best placating tone, “we have interfered. Now let’s talk about this like rational beings, shall we?”

  Greg’s always trying to talk his way out of fights. I think it goes back to being the fat kid in school. He couldn’t fight, so he tried to talk or joke his way out of getting his ass kicked. I don’t know that it’s ever worked in all the decades I’ve known him. Didn’t look like it was going to work now either.

  The girl looked at him disdainfully, laughed and lunged at him with more of that crazy speed. She started throwing kicks and punches that made Jackie Chan look like a rank amateur, and it took everything Greg had to dodge enough of them to avoid being crushed.

  I picked Tommy up over my shoulders and jumped him onto a neighboring roof. “Stay here, and stay quiet. I don’t need to explain how you got here to the fire department. I’ll come get you after we kick her ass.” I made to jump into the scrap, but he grabbed my leg.

  “What if you can’t beat her?” he asked through a mouthful of blood. I missed the part where she busted his mouth up, but I guessed it could have happened when she switched from breaking his arm to choking him half to death.

  “Then you don’t have to worry about paying our bill.” I jumped off the roof, cleared the front yard in one hop, and joined the rumble, which had moved out into the street. I didn’t like the number of porch lights that were flickering on, so I stopped throwing punches long enough to say, “If you want to keep your presence here under the radar for more than the next five minutes, we might want to move this party somewhere more private.”

  “Or I could just kill you quickly,” the girl said, nailing me with an uppercut that sent me flying into the path of an oncoming minivan.

  “Or that,” I said as the van crashed into my back (or I crashed into its front, whichever way you want to look at it). Greg took a kick to the head that spun him completely around, and she grabbed his head like she was going to twist it completely off his body. That’s one of the only surefire ways to kill us, and when I saw what she had in mind, I reached deep down and did the only thing I could think of to save my partner’s life.

  I picked up that stupid little minivan, and slammed it into the freshman-from-hell with everything I had. Toys, glass, baby seats and a couple of yuppies spilled out onto the pavement, but the girl was finally down. Greg dragged the yuppies over to the sidewalk and dropped his Jedi mind trick on them about hitting a Great Dane and being cut out of the van by firefighters while I used their seatbelts to tie the girl’s hands and feet.

  There were more porch lights than ever flicking on now, and I could hear sirens coming into the neighborhood. We had to move, and fast, or we were going to have some very uncomfortable questions to answer.

  “Grab Tommy and get him to the hospital. I stashed him on a roof,” I said to Greg.

  “Where are you going with her?” he asked. He was weaving a little back and forth, but he could stand, at least.

  “Where else? I gotta take her to Dad’s.” And I tossed the girl over my shoulder like a rolled-up carpet and took off toward the only place that was safe to interrogate her—St. Patrick’s.

  Chapter 6

  I carried the girl/witch/thing over my shoulder toward St. Patrick’s Church, hoping by all I had ever believed in that Dad could contain her. “Dad” is Michael Maloney, the priest at St. Patrick’s, and he’s one of the best friends a vampire could have. He’s also an old friend, the only person from before that Greg and I ever associate with. He’s been there for us for a long time, and I really hoped that he had enough juice with the Big Guy Upstairs to bind this whatever-she-was long enough to get some answers.

  I couldn’t go in through the front door. The holy ground thing is true. But there’s a corner of the cemetery that sits on unsanctified soil, because the church decided during the Great Depression that it needed a place to bury suicides within the fence. That way the church could keep the funeral revenue. But, since Catholic doctrine wouldn’t allow someone who took their own life to be buried on hallowed ground, they bought the property next door, knocked down the non-sanctified house that was there, fenced in the lot and expanded the graveyard. It’s really handy to have a place to meet where no one would ever think to look for us, and Greg and I keep a room of sorts in one of the crypts for emergencies. And this was shaping up to be a doozy of an emergency.

  I called Dad on my cell when I was close, and he met me at the crypt with a lantern and a battered leather bag. I guessed it was his exorcism tool kit and gave it a wide berth. Mike’s never tried to douse us with holy water, but crosses, true believers and vampires don’t mix. I steer clear.

  “Jimmy, my son, what have you gotten yourself into?” Mike asked as he held the door for me. I dropped my little care package on the floor of the crypt and Mike stood there gaping at the hog-tied teenager in front of him.

  “Don’t call me your son, Dad. And I don’t really know what I’ve gotten into. That’s what I’ve got you for. This little chicklet is way more than she seems. She kicked the crap out of me and Greg both, and if I hadn’t dropped a minivan on her head she probably would have killed Greg.” That was the moment that my body decided to let all the bruises and exertion catch up with me, and I slid down to sit on the floor of the crypt.

  “I don’t suppose you’ve got anything to eat in that bag?” I eyed his satchel hopefully.

  Mike shook his head. “Sorry, my—um—Jimmy. I don’t exactly keep the red in with the Host.”

  “It’s fine. I’ll go out for a snack later. For now, we need to find out what’s gotten into this kid. Literally.”

  Mike’s eyes got wide, and he actually inched closer to his bag. “You think she may be possessed?”

  “Not my field. But I know she’s way stronger than she should be, and she sensed us as vamps from way farther away than even a bloodhound could have.”

  “Hmmm. Well, extra-dimensional beings would certainly be able to sense the presence of other creatures of their ilk, and demons are reputed to have incredible strength.”

  “Hey! Go easy on the demon talk, old buddy. Remember, me and my ilk used to slip you Playboys in middle school.” I’d had issues with religion before I got turned, and since then I’ve spent most of my nights avoiding religious contemplation.

  “No offense meant, James. It’s just a term. Now, let me get a closer look at her.” He knelt on the floor beside the girl, and only my speed allowed me to grab his shoulders and pull him back intact. The girl lunged at his face, trying for all the world to eat his nose. I yanked him out of the way, and the whatever-she-was laughed the kind of laugh that makes places inside you go very, very cold.

  “Come closer, priest. Give us a little kiss,” it mocked. Mike grabbed a crucifix from his bag, and thrust it at the girl-thing. It hissed and tried to roll away, but I lost sight of things for a minute. Probably because I was trying to put a sarcophagus between myself and the holy symbol. Mike was the truest type of true believer, and the cross in his hands gave me a monster of a migraine. From the looks of things, whatever was inside the girl liked it even less than I did.

  “In the name of God the Father and Jesus Christ his Son on Earth I command you to leave this girl!” When I opened my eyes again, peeking carefully over the big stone coffin I was hiding behind, Mike was standing over the girl, cross in his left hand and a Bible in his right. The cross was glowing with an
ethereal light, and it looked like something was floating around the girl. A cloud of what looked like glowing red gnats, buzzing and angry, coalesced around her head. Then I heard the voice again, and not for the first time that night, I got really worried.

  “Foolish priest. Do you think that your trappings of faith can save you?” The disembodied voice was all around us, swirling in and out of the cloud like an angry wind. “I see inside your soul, priest. I see your darkest thoughts, your blackest fears, and you are not holy.”

  Mike raised his Bible over his head and pointed the cross at the girl like a conductor’s baton. “I am a servant of the Lord God Almighty and by His Grace I am sanctified. You are a beast of Hell and I command you to leave this girl!”

  The thing laughed, and I swear the girl’s eyes glowed like a cheap X-Files effect. “I serve a power older and stronger than your pitiful little carpenter. Your little book means nothing to me, and you cannot command one with power such as mine.”

  Mike’s Bible burst into flames, and he dropped the flaming holy book. He switched into Latin, and since I’m not old enough and certainly not religious enough to have much of a grasp on dead languages, I had no idea what he was saying. But after a couple of seconds of chanting, the cloud-thing screamed in rage and pain, and then flew at Mike like a comic-book bee colony, heading straight for his hand. The crucifix flared into blinding light, first white, then a deep crimson red. The voice sounded everywhere around us, and it began to laugh.

  Through that awful cackling, I heard Mike howl in pain. There was one last flash of red light, and a wave of force blew out from Mike and the girl. Like a hurricane, it picked me up and flung me limp into the far wall of the crypt. The last thing I heard before I blacked out was that laugh. And Mike screaming.

  Chapter 7

  When I woke up, I was alone in the crypt. There was a puddle of melted silver on the floor where I last remembered Mike standing, and the seatbelts I had tied the girl with were lying in a pile in a corner. They’d been cut neatly, not torn, but that was all the info I could glean from my surroundings. I went to the door and eased it open a crack to see the bright sunlight streaming into the crypt from the cemetery.

  Crap. I was stuck for a while.

  The whole thing about sunlight is real, too. We don’t burst into flames immediately, but it doesn’t take long for one of us to be reduced to a pile of charcoal briquettes if we come into contact with direct sunlight. I settled down to wait for nightfall and hoped that Mike had recovered enough to go into the church. I decided to check on Greg and Tommy, and reached in my pocket for my cell phone. I pulled out a mangled mass of plastic and computer chips and realized that the phone had been crushed during my fight with the girl-monster. I hoped everyone was okay, because I was trapped until sunset.

  After a ridiculously boring day of staring at a sunbeam, I felt more than saw the sun finally dip below the horizon, and I headed out into the cemetery. Mike was hurrying across the sanctified part of the graveyard to meet me.

  “Where have you been, dude? I’ve been stuck in there worried sick all day!” I started to lay into him pretty solid, but then I got a good look at my old friend. He looked his age for probably the first time ever. He had a bandage on his forehead that looked fresh, and his left hand was wrapped heavily all the way from the elbow to the fingers. “Jesus Christ, man, how bad did she get you?”

  “Pretty badly, I’m afraid. Not all of us are blessed with eternal youth, James. I recently returned from the hospital with our young guest. She’s terribly shaken up. I only got her to sleep in the parish house a few moments ago.” He took my elbow and led me further from the church, as though there was someone in there he didn’t want to take note of our little chat.

  “What? She’s in the church?” I was baffled. I would have bet the farm that she was way less welcome on holy ground than me. “And have you heard from Greg? My phone got—”

  “Trashed. Again. Here.” Greg tossed me a replacement phone as he came out from behind a tree. I looked him up and down, but he didn’t seem to be any the worse for wear after getting pummeled last night. As if in answer to my unspoken question, Greg went on. “I’m fine. I had a snack before I went to bed last night. Tommy’s arm is a clean break, but she got both the bones so it’s gonna be useless for at least a month. They kept him at the hospital for observation. I talked to him while I was on my way over here.”

  I put the phone in my front pocket this time, since my back pocket didn’t seem to be very good for protecting them. “What was that you said about the girl being in the church, Mike? I figured her for a serious bad guy, given what she did to all of us last night.”

  “What was residing in the girl was, in fact, a very serious bad guy, but the girl herself was guilty of nothing more than curiosity and a desire for a little payback on the kids at school who teased her. I think we can all relate to those sentiments, can’t we?”

  He raised an eyebrow at Greg and me, and we had the good grace to look sheepish. I’m not sure when my old friend had developed the juice to shame me for my youthful indiscretions, but he certainly had it now. Maybe it came with the first grey hairs. I’d never know.

  “She was possessed? By what?” Greg asked.

  “Yes, she was possessed. And based on the amount of power she exhibited, we may have a very serious problem. I don’t know exactly what type of demon possessed her, but it’s incredibly strong. I’ve never experienced anything like that kind of power. To be able to melt a symbol of the Lord in the hands of a priest . . .” Mike trailed off, and if anything, he looked a little paler. Not as pale as me, but getting there.

  “How’s the hand?” I didn’t like seeing my old friend scared, and wanted to change the subject.

  “Mostly second-degree burns. I dropped the crucifix before it completely liquefied, but some of the molten silver landed on my skin. I probably won’t have full use of the last two fingers again for a while.”

  That explained the screaming I’d heard as I passed out. Molten metal eating through your flesh tends to make even vampires scream.

  Getting one of my best friends injured and maybe permanently disfigured wasn’t making me feel any better, so I switched back to the original problem. “So what do we know?”

  “Not much,” Mike said. “There are only a few demons that have the kind of power the girl exhibited last night, and all of them are bad news. And if what she said about serving an even more powerful demon is true, then we have to find where the demon went when it left the child, and stop it.”

  Of course we do. Because we’re not vampires, the beasties that give people nightmares and make them think twice about walking down that alley alone, we’re detective vampires. We’re the good guys. Like Batman, only with dietary restrictions. Sometimes I wondered what it would be like to eat people, like a normal vampire. But no, not only do I have a conscience, I have a roommate with a Kal-El complex and a priest for a best friend. If I could find a shrink that kept office hours after sundown, I could spend eternity in therapy.

  “What happened to the demon?” I asked.

  “When you got it out of the girl it went back to Hell?” Greg asked, a little more hopefully than was reasonable.

  Mike wobbled a little. “I have no idea, but I doubt it went anywhere we wanted it to go. I would expect that it found someone close by to inhabit, but the ethereal definitions of close by could mean anywhere in the city.”

  I led Mike over to sit on a headstone. It was a mark of how much had been taken out of him that he was willing to sit there. Usually that was one of the things Greg and I did to get a rise out of him, sit on grave markers and make fun of the occupants. Mike never disrespected the dead. Greg and I exchanged a worried glance behind Mike’s back, and I decided on an impromptu plan.

  “All right,” I said. “Mike, you stay here and keep an eye on the girl, and when she comes around see what information you can get out of her. Somebody had to help her bring this thing up. No kid has that kind of pow
er. See if you can get the names of who else was in the circle with her that night, and keep her here. The beastie’s gotten into her once. That might make her vulnerable to a repeat possession, if there is such a thing.”

  I motioned to Greg. “We’ll split up and keep an eye on Tommy and his family. If getting revenge on him for picking on the girl was part of this creature’s contract for getting to this side of Hell, then it may still go after them. I’ll take the hospital, and Greg will keep an eye on the sister.”

  “That sounds good, boys. I think I would do well to do my part from my chair this time. Once I get there.” Mike started back toward the church. “Boys?”

  “Yeah, Dad?” I answered.

  “Be careful. This one is bad. Very, very bad.”

  Greg and I looked at each other as Mike limped into the church, looking way older than we were supposed to be. We stood there watching our friend’s back for a second, then headed off into the night for our respective charges. Good thing I was headed to the hospital. I needed breakfast bad.

  Chapter 8

  It only took me a few minutes to get to the hospital. By bus. I’ve heard that some of us can take animal forms, but either I haven’t figured out how to turn into a bat, I haven’t been around long enough, the vampire that made me wasn’t strong enough, or something like that. I don’t really know. Since I can’t fly, I took the bus. And by that I mean I jumped on top of one and hitched a ride to the hospital.

  I was out of cash. It wasn’t that Greg and I were hurting for money. We did okay with the detecting business and it’s not like we had much of a grocery bill, but I was bad about leaving the house without grabbing any cash out of the cookie jar, so I never had any money on me. That meant I rode the top of the bus a lot. It was more fun than mojo-ing the driver out of a free fare.

 

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