The Black Knight Chronicles

by John G. Hartness

  “Sonofabitch,” my partner muttered. “Are we gonna have to hang out in the waiting room all day again?”

  “I think we can get somebody to drive us home in the trunk if we need to. Hey, maybe we’ll get lucky and it’ll snow,” I said without much hope. Charlotte, NC, has never been known for its snowfall, even in January. But we might luck out and get a really crappy, rainy, overcast day, and then we’d only get nasty sunburn, not charcoal briquet level sunburn.

  We pulled into the hospital parking lot, and Sabrina threw a CMPD placard on her dash. I reached across Greg to pop the glove box, and pulled out a small ‘Clergy’ placard and placed it on the dash of my car.

  “Where did you get that?” Greg asked, his eyes wide.

  “Stole it from Mike. Come on.” I opened the door and got out.

  “I am not misusing a clergy sign to get a better parking place. That’s so wrong it’s out of bounds even for you,” Greg said, getting out of the car and slamming his own door.

  “Dude, we eat people. We’re not friggin’ pantheons of morality, okay. Remember, vampires. Nosferatu, Lestat, Dracula, the scary one, not like the goofy dude in that episode of Buffy.”

  “But we’re not like that. And I don’t eat people.”

  “Tell that to the faerie chick you nibbled on yesterday.”

  As soon as I said it, I wanted the words back. Greg’s head snapped back like I’d slapped him, and I felt like the world’s biggest asshole.

  After a second or two of cold silence, I said “Look, man, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it. I know that shit was really hard for you, and I hate that you had to do it. But you had to, and you did, and now it’s over.”

  “It’s not over. I can still taste her. And I can smell the blood from every human in a hundred yards. And it smells good. I don’t know how you think you can control it, but you can’t. I can’t.” He didn’t look at me for a long few seconds, and when he did, I stepped back a little from the look in his eyes.

  “You go ahead, Jimmy. I’ll park the car and meet you up there.”

  “You sure? I’ll go with you to park—”

  “Go.” The word came from somewhere deep inside him, and I remembered the last time I’d heard Greg sound like that. He had been kneeling over the body of a teenage girl, her throat ripped out and her life’s blood staining the front of his T-shirt. I’d almost lost him that night to the animal that lives inside of us, and I didn’t know if I could pull him back from the edge again.

  After a long moment, I tossed him the keys. “Don’t scratch the paint.”

  That worked. He laughed, and the monster was buried again. Greg, the real Greg, gave me the finger and said “I couldn’t find a new place to dent this heap of crap if I tried.”

  While Greg parked the car, I headed up to see Stephen. Sabrina was standing in the sterile hallway outside his room with Mike. Mike took one look at me and burst out laughing. I glanced over at Sabrina, who was trying hard to restrain herself from doing the same thing.

  “What? Did I put my shirt on backward again?” I checked my fly, and Jimmy Jr. was safely tucked away. Then I got a good look at my arm. “No,” I whispered, the mere thought of this horror chilling me to the bone. I turned and ran down the hall past the elevators and the waiting area to the public restrooms.

  I flung open the door and skidded to a halt in front of the wall of mirrors. Fortunately for me, the hospital went cheap on their mirrors and didn’t use real silver backing. Vampires don’t reflect in those since the silver screws with our magic. But cheap mirrors, no problem. So I could see exactly what had my friends in hysterics. I was sparkling.

  Not only was I sparkling, but I was sparkling in colors. Milandra obviously had a sense of humor, since she returned me to the real world with a shower of pink and purple sparkles trailing from my hair. I looked like I’d run naked through a gay glitter factory. I turned on the water and started frantically pulling paper towels from the dispenser and scrubbing myself, but the sparkles were stuck to me with some kind of magic. I was just going to have to look like a cross-dressing stripper, or a teenaged girl’s makeup set exploded all over me, until it wore off.

  I trudged back to where Mike and Sabrina stood. I stopped in the hallway and did my best runway turn for them. “I sparkle. I get it. It’s funny. Pretty soon I’ll get angsty and use more hair product. But for now, how’s Stephen?”

  Mike spoke up. “Your faerie friend is in there with him now. He refused to allow us into the room as he administered his treatment, saying that it could be dangerous to humans. To his credit, Mr. Neal’s partner refused to leave. Mr. Glindare made it very clear that he would not be leaving his partner’s side for any reason.”

  “Husband,” I corrected.

  “You’ll have to forgive me if I stick with ‘partner,’ James. I’m as progressive as I can be, within the limits of Church doctrine. And until the Church recognizes their union, I’m afraid ‘partner’ is as far as I can go.”

  I decided not to get in a conversation about separation of church and state with one of my oldest friends in the middle of the lemon-scented hallway of a hospital, so I let it go. Otto came out of the room then, and the scent of the verdirosa followed him in a cloud, mixed with something new, something sweeter and a little hint of faerie blood. Otto looked more tired than he had after our fight with the Unseelie, but he smiled as he looked at Sabrina.

  “He will heal,” Otto said.

  Sabrina sagged against me in relief. I wrapped my arms around her instinctively, then tightened them a little when I realized what we’d done. She pulled back, wiping her eyes with the heel of her hand and giving one of those embarrassed little chuckles that people do when they let you see more than they wanted to. But I heard her heart beat, and I heard it speed up a little when I pulled her close, and the sound made me warm, even though the January chill still lingered on my skin.

  “Thanks, Otto. That’s awesome. Is he awake? Can we go in?” I asked.

  Otto waved us on, then turned to leave.

  Sabrina stopped him. “Thank you. Really. If you ever need anything, I owe you one.”

  Otto smiled down at her. “You owe no debt to me, Defender. I did as my queen ordered, and gladly. I provided aid to one of my own, and in doing so brought succor to a friend of my House. But should I require your assistance in the future, I shall call.”

  “Do that, Otto. We’ll be there,” I said, holding out my hand.

  He smiled, shook my hand, then Sabrina’s, then stepped through a glowing portal and vanished.

  “I will never get used to that,” I said, turning to Stephen’s door.

  “Wait,” Sabrina said. There was a tentative quiver in her voice, completely out of character with the woman who was willing to shoot a dragon in the ass for her cousin. But I guess family can get you where monsters can’t touch.

  “It’ll be fine,” I whispered to her. “He still loves you, or he wouldn’t have told his husband about you.”

  She looked at me nervously, then nodded once and put her hand on the door.

  “Come on in, cuz. I know you’re standing out there getting all worked up for nothing. And bring your pet vampire in, too.”

  Stephen’s voice sounded strong, but if he called me a pet again I might see what I could do about that.

  We walked in and Sabrina’s cousin was sitting up in bed, looking very little like someone who’d been beaten nearly to death less than forty-eight hours earlier. Mike followed us in, nodding pleasantly to a very confused-looking Alex.

  “Ummm, Stephen, did you just call him a . . . ?” Alex trailed off as he looked over at me, seeing nothing about me that screamed “vampire.” After all, the traditional mythology does not include skinny, six foot four inch vampires with pointy noses and brown hair that shoots out in every direction out from under a purple Clemson Tigers baseball cap.

  I nodded to him, and held out my hand. “Mr. Glindare, good to see you again. I suppose you must be Stephen.”
<
br />   We shook hands, and he looked past me to Sabrina. She stood in the doorway, showing nerves you wouldn’t expect from a woman who’s traveled to Hell and back for a case, literally.

  “You two want a moment alone? A pair of boxing gloves? Dr. Phil?” I asked.

  Stephen struggled to a more upright position and held out his arms. Sabrina rushed into his embrace, and you could almost watch a decade of distance vanish in an instant.

  “This would be when I say something like ‘don’t worry, they’re cousins,’” I said to Alex.

  “Funny, I was thinking I should say the same thing to you.” He grinned up at me.

  I looked around for a chair. Finding none, I sat on the edge of the bed at Stephen’s feet. “Now,” I began, “I hate to break up the touching reunion scene, but I’d like to make sure that there’s not another one of these things coming back to finish the job. You know it was a troll that attacked you, right?”

  “Actually, I had no idea what it was. I was walking to meet Alex after rehearsal, and something grabbed me and pulled me into the alley. It muttered something about me being the next contestant, or something like that, and to come along quietly.”

  He took a deep breath, and Alex reached over and patted his leg. “It’s okay, babe. Take your time.”

  Stephen continued. “I grabbed my cell phone to call Alex, and the thing just swatted it out of my hand. It punched me in the face, and knocked me cold. The next thing I knew I woke up in a locker room, wearing a pair of shorts and nothing else. Another . . . troll, I guess, was in the room with me, and he shook my hand and told me he was about to kill me. I told him I didn’t want any trouble, and he said it was nothing personal, that’s just how the fight was scheduled—to the death. Then a door opened, and he walked out of the room. There were all these people out there, and they were all cheering, and screaming for him, and for me.”

  Stephen looked around, then went on. “Then the door opened again, and two other trolls came in. They dragged me out into this cage, put a sword in my hand, and told me to fight. I threw the sword down, and they put it back in my hand. They told me I could either fight and die, or just die. They left, and the first troll came after me. He had on these huge metal gloves with spikes on them, and I—” He took a sip of water, trying to pull himself together.

  “I couldn’t do anything against him. I’ve taken some judo and tae kwon do classes, but this guy was huge, and fast, and I’d been knocked out. He beat the hell out of me. The last thing I remember is him catching me with an uppercut and hearing my jaw crack. After that, it was all black. Then I woke up here, with a bald faerie feeding me magical guacamole.”

  “Yeah, about that . . .” Alex said, looking from me, to Sabrina, to his husband. I held up both hands and stood, not wanting to get involved in family drama.

  Stephen blushed. “Yeah, so . . . Honey, I’m a faerie! That’s a lot easier to say when you’ve been called one your whole life. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, Alex. I just found out about this a couple weeks ago. Up until then I just thought I was, you know, talented.”

  “Being one of the Fae has nothing to do with your ability at dance, Stephen, just like the fact that I’m a vampire has nothing to do with my rapier-like wit.” I paused to glare at Mike, who was suddenly afflicted with a coughing fit. “It just means you’re a bit faster, more agile and stronger than a human. And it means you’ll probably live forever. Unless that only counts in Faerieland. Then forget I said anything.” I threw that last bit in because his husband was right there, and I didn’t want to have to watch while they sorted through the whole immortality thing.

  “So now where are we?” Sabrina asked. “Instead of a series of random beatings, we’ve got some kind of underground fight club going on with trolls and faeries, and no idea where to find out more about it.”

  “Oh, I think I’ve got a pretty good idea,” I said, heading toward the door. “I’ve got something I want to look into. Sabrina, can you stay here and play catch-up with your cousin for a while? I want to make sure somebody is here in case someone, or something, tries to get at him again. Can you meet us at our place with the case files on all the attacks tomorrow night? I want to look at all the data and start to re-interview the other victims. Maybe one of them remembers something.”

  “I can do you one better,” she said, reaching into her purse and pulling out a USB memory stick. “I’ve got all of the case files with me, so you guys can start tonight while I hang here with my cousin.”

  I took the memory stick and tucked it away in my pocket.

  “That’s great. Mike, can you get in touch with your witch friend and see what she knows about trolls and faeries? Maybe there’s some kind of secret Wiccan database that she can tap into. I’ll get Greg and we’ll look into my lead. Stephen, if you think of anything, give us a call. Sabrina, if anything bad happens, call me immediately. Please do not try to stop a troll on your own.” I started out the door and stopped when I realized everybody was still staring at me.

  “What?” I asked.

  “I think we’re all waiting for you clap your hands and yell ‘Break!’ coach,” Sabrina said with a smirk.

  “Oh, shut up. And be careful,” I said on my way out the door.

  “Aye, Aye, Cap’n,” Sabrina said to my back as I headed down the hall. “Oh, and one other thing,” she yelled. “Take a shower, you sparkle!”

  Chapter 22

  I caught up with Greg as he got out of the elevator, holding a Styrofoam cooler. I grabbed him by the elbow, spun him around and pressed the button to take us back down to the morgue.

  “Where are we going? I stopped off at Bobby’s already for extra blood,” Greg said as the doors slid shut.

  I raised an eyebrow at him.

  “This seems like a tough job, and I don’t want us to run out. And I thought Sabrina might have some family crap to deal with. Just trying to be helpful.”

  Every once in a while, like once a decade or so, Greg surprises me with his observations.

  “Fair enough,” I said. “And thanks. We’re going back to see Bobby. He knows more about these attacks than he told us.”

  The doors slid open, and we walked down the hallway. Greg kept trying to say something as we walked, but I just held up a hand. Bobby knew what was going on, and he hadn’t bothered to tell me. I was pissed, to say the least.

  I barged through the doors of the morgue right in the middle of an autopsy. Bobby was elbows-deep in a dead guy’s midsection, and I skidded to a halt right inside the door. The smell was almost enough to knock me over, the scent of blood and decay and disinfectant making my eyes water.

  “Jesus Christ, Bobby. How do you work in that stench?”

  Bobby reached up and clicked off a recorder. “I’m human, Jimmy. And I put Vick’s VapoRub on my upper lip for the bad ones. This is a bad one. The jar’s on the counter.”

  I opened the jar and smeared some of the ointment on my lip. I held it out to Greg, then realized that he wasn’t with me. My partner, knowing what was going on, had stopped outside the swinging doors to the autopsy room. He waved at me. I mouthed Asshole back at him. He waved again.

  “What happened to him?” I looked at the corpse. It had been lying around for a few days getting smelly. Bobby had the midsection cut open and the front of the ribcage out.

  “I think a heart attack. His mailman found him today. The mail had been stacking up for about four days, and that fits with a rough time of death. Poor dude lay there all alone, nobody to miss him but his cat.”

  “How do you know he had a cat?” I asked. I almost told Bobby not to answer that question, but my morbid curiosity got the better of me. Again.

  “There are injuries to the soft tissues of the face consistent with a house cat,” he said in his most clinical voice.

  “You mean his cat ate his face?” I moved around to the head of the body. Sure enough, his eyes, lips and part of his nose were gone. There were little bite marks on his cheeks, and his earlobes lo
oked chewed.

  “Damn, dude. That’s nasty,” I said.

  “This from the guy that drinks blood to stay alive,” Bobby said.

  “That’s what I’m saying. My bar is pretty high, and that’s nasty even to me. But I didn’t come down here to talk about eating faces.”

  “Yeah, what’s up? Greg was just here and I gave him a special deal on some extra B-negative we got in. Private donor, with instructions that his blood only be used for his transfusions. Then he died of pneumonia. Ironic, huh?”

  “I guess. Tell me what you know about the faerie fights.”

  “The what? Oh! You mean the thing? Yeah, well, you know all about it, you said so.”

  “I don’t know anything about it. I was lying.”

  “You lied to me? That ain’t cool, man.”

  “Hello? Vampire? Bloodsucking soulless demon, remember? I lied. Now I’m not. So tell me what I want to know.”

  “I can’t, Jimmy. They’d sic their trolls on me if I talked, and you saw what they can do to a faerie. I don’t even want to think what they’d do to a human. Besides, I don’t know anything. I just go to the fights, put a little money down, watch the show, you know? It’s not like they’re people. They’re monsters.”

  “Like us?” Greg asked.

  He’d finally braved the funk in favor of knowing what the hell was going on. I swear, curiosity might turn out to be lethal to vampires, too.

  “Nah, you guys are cool. But I don’t know these guys. I mean, look, I’ll tell you what I can.” Beads of sweat had popped out on Bobby’s forehead. Even though he was a big guy, and a former professional athlete, he knew he didn’t want to find out just how strong a pissed-off vampire is.

  “Let’s start with where the fights happen,” I said.

  “They move, man. I get a text with a date, and if I want to go to the fight that night, I reply ‘yes.’ Then I get a text with an address and a time. Never more than an hour’s notice, and so far it’s never been the same place twice.”

  “When’s the next fight?” Greg asked.