Dawn of a Dark Knight

by Zoe Forward

  Nearing unconsciousness, Ashor pressed his hand against chest and stomach injuries already sustained. He was bleeding inside and out. Same shit, different day.

  With little more than pain and purpose, Ashor got his feet beneath him. The narthex area of the cathedral was as humid as the Louisiana air outside during the record-high heat wave. He swatted sweat from his eyes and forced his feet to carry him back into the main hall. A quick scan to locate either of the other two magi that had joined him for this fight found that only Ethan remained conscious.

  Ethan sat propped against a column, cradling a fast-bleeding gash in his side. The guy looked like pulverized camel shit. His lengthy brown hair was wildly askew from its normal, impeccable confinement at his neck. Bloody streaks painted his cheeks and streaked through his goatee, suggesting he’d tried to confine the untamed strands behind his ears. Their gazes met across the cathedral and each reflected the other’s pain.

  The six-foot-tall daemon stalked toward Ethan like a sadistically playful cat hunting injured prey. Spittle glistened on its chapped, black lips, distinguishing them from the rest of its hairless, gray, leathery skin. The thing looked like an Orc on steroids. It wore a tattered navy military uniform of ill-defined origin, a remnant of his human life, when he’d been a black-magik dabbler.

  The daemon halted to stretch as if it knew there was no rush to end the game. It picked at its nails. A slow smirk exposed razor-sharp teeth. The muscles of the daemon’s sculpted shoulders rippled with amplified strength as it drew power from Ethan’s pain.

  The pupils in the daemon’s ice blue eyes dilated to a black shield, obscuring the colored irises and sclera. Playtime was over.

  Ashor leaned weakly against a pew, fighting to stay conscious. Exhaustion pressed at his brain.

  He reflected on the futility of his job. Daemons couldn’t be killed permanently. Slaying in this realm only sent them back to their own purgatory in the Middle Realm where they waited to be summoned again. That meant there had been a few repeat customers over the years. The dispatching had to be done right—decapitation with a specifically engineered scimitar and then a mid-chest hit.

  His body demanded he pass out and he was tempted to give in.

  The daemon’s pace picked up as it beelined for Ethan. Really, there wasn’t a choice. Ethan was a worthy magus who wasn’t ready to die. And they needed him with only eight of them left. Time to kill the daemon or die trying. He dared not use any more of his rage-power today, even though it was his best bet to beat this thing. The threat of losing control permanently, of Turning…not an option.

  Blocking out the pain, he focused to call forth all he had left, seichim. It enabled him superhuman precision and strength. Although not as strong as the rage, after years of practice he could use seichim to enhance his natural physical and mental abilities.

  Everything around him slowed into exacting focus.

  To engage the daemon and distract it, he yelled, “Ethan. Move.”

  The daemon whipped around and zeroed in on him. It launched into a high-speed sprint down the cathedral’s long main aisle.

  Ashor raised his sword, two-handed, high over his head and readied for a killing blow. Seconds before reaching the killing zone of the sword’s downward arc, the daemon hit terminal velocity and morphed into an ephemeral red mist.

  Oh, shit. This one must be desperate. They rarely chose to possess.

  If they had an active akhrian, the healer could exorcise the daemon. With no akhrian, the fast approaching mist was a definite game over for him. Once it possessed his body, a fellow magus would be forced to execute him.

  In a surreal moment of suspended reality, he considered the mist of death. He wanted this life to end. Maybe this was the gods granting his wish.

  Seconds before the daemon impacted, survival instinct took over. There was no way this evil shit was getting the best of him. He needed her help.

  He gasped as the painful mist tunneled into his chest. The clang of his sword as it hit the stone floor echoed through the cathedral. Cold pain, like none he’d ever experienced spread through every cell in his body. He fell to his back on the floor.

  “Is there anything I can do, Ashor?”

  Fighting the slow-onset paralysis and pain, Ashor rolled his head to meet Ethan’s gaze. He battled the evil freeze to speak.

  Ethan whispered, “I’m sorry it must end this way.” He raised his scimitar in preparation to execute.

  Ashor felt the hazy cloud of impending blackout. He choked out, “Stop. Find doctor...Kira Hardy. She can help.”

  Chapter Five

  “Want to make it a happier New Year, darlin’?”

  “Since when am I your darlin’?”

  “Kira?”

  “You texted it was important, Markus. Don’t you even check caller ID before you answer?”

  “Sorry, thought you were someone else. I met this woman last night on the plane and...never mind. I need your help. There’s an item I want you to validate.”

  “You’re kidding. After that fiasco yesterday, I’d expect you to lie low for a while.”

  “It’s a real simple one that I’ve been setting up for weeks. This guy’s selling an amulet and I found a buyer. I need to know it’s authentic. Should be a pretty low risk situation. We meet. You look. We get and we’re outta there.”

  “You said the last one would be simple and I’ve got a knife wound on my thigh to prove it wasn’t.”

  “Don’t be dramatic. It’s little more than a graze. You probably won’t even get a scar. There are no Koreans in on this deal.”

  “Then exactly who is in on this one? I need details before I commit.”

  There was a long pause before he said quietly, “All right. This guy is selling a family heirloom.” He paused and then said the next part hastily, “He called it the magi Anukrati amulet.”

  “Did you say magi? Did the word actually come from your mouth?”

  Silence was all that came back from the other end.

  “This is priceless. I can’t believe you’ve gotten yourself mixed up in another deal involving these guys. Believe me, this not going to be simple. I guarantee Hashishins are involved somehow.”

  “Kira, you need some help. I don’t think this has anything to do with your imaginary magi. You really lost it yesterday.”

  “We barely escaped last night. Why won’t you believe me when I tell you Hashishins are after these items?”

  “I saw no evidence of hocus pocus yesterday. There’s no secret dark-magik cult in on this amulet deal.”

  “You don’t want to screw around with these guys. Did you research the seller and the buyer?” She hated the shady nature of all Markus’s deals. Sure, Kane had drilled both of them relentlessly on self-defense, be it armed or hand-to-hand. The sad part was they had to rely on that training a little too often.

  “All involved seem fairly legit.”

  “Terek Nadir seems legit to the outside world.” The name, itself, brought on a shiver of revulsion.

  Markus said softly, “Duckie, he can’t hurt you. He’s gone. Disappeared. And maybe his weirdo cult is disbanded.”

  “He was there last night. Why won’t you believe me?”

  “I didn’t see him. Look, I know you blame him for your mother’s death, but since you moved in with us after she died everything has been all right, hasn’t it?”

  “My mother was murdered! By him.”

  “There was no proof. The guy had an airtight alibi out of the state. I know he and his weirdo group lived just up the road and they must’ve scared the hell out of you at some point, but it was a couple of escaped convicts that beat both of you up.”

  “Bullshit. I was there, remember?” Arguing was pointless. Why wouldn’t he take her word on this? They were family, for God’s sake. As calmly as she could manage, she asked, “What’s so special about this amulet?”

  “No clue. I just help people sell their stuff.”

  “Don’t you want to give the m
agi a buzz and ask?”

  “Oh, come off it, Kira. They’re nothing more than an Egyptian fairytale. With your obsession for them, I expected you to be all hot to trot to see this thing. You know, now that I think about it, this is a bad idea for you to come. You’re getting stressed out. I’m sorry I asked.”

  Kira sighed loud enough that she heard the echo in her phone. “I’ll go, but only because I’m worried about you doing this alone. I do want you to recognize this residency is important to me. This will be the third time in the past two months and twice in the past week that I’ve called in sick to go on one of your deals. I’ll be lucky if they don’t kick me out of the program at this rate.” Maybe if she went along she could steer him clear of danger. Unlikely, but there was always a first time.

  “Thanks. I really need you on this one.”

  “Tell me where to go. And please tell me Kane is with us this time. We need him.”

  “You think I can’t handle it? We’ll be fine. Kane is busy. Fly into LaGuardia tomorrow as early as you can. Email me your itinerary and I’ll meet you at the airport.”

  “I’ll get back to you on the flight info. Is Kane around?”

  “Hang on, I think I saw him tinkering with his car.”

  A few seconds later Kane asked in his characteristic precise, clipped tone, “How ya doing, Kira? Happy New Year and all that jazz.”

  “He tell you about last night?”

  “No. What happened?”

  “He said nothing? Typical. We had ourselves a little shoot-out and then chase.”

  “Goddamn it!” There was some rumbling as if the phone was being tossed around. “Markus, you little ass, what’d you get her into last night?”

  In the background, Markus yelled, “Got her out, didn’t I?”

  Into the phone, Kane asked, “You get hurt?”

  “A little.”

  Off the phone, she heard muffled cursing.

  Kira said, “Kane? Kane!”

  “Yeah, I’m here.”

  “Get the details later. We lived, no thanks to Mr. Unprepared. Listen, this new deal tomorrow worries me. I’d like you to come along.”

  “Wish I could, but it’s out of my hands. The company is sending me on a job that’s been arranged for months. But I can be about twenty-four hours behind you.”

  “I’d ask what you’re really up to, but you won’t tell me, will you? Security agency, my ass. If this goes smoothly, then we’ll be out of there by then.”

  Kane laughed. “Right. Smooth isn’t in Markus’s vocabulary.”

  ****

  With a left-click, she hit the Book It button on the travel website. Pain squeezed Kira’s chest. She wheezed, barely able to move air.

  She pushed at her chest in a useless attempt to remove the invisible pressure on her ribcage. Her analytical mind diagnosed it to be a heart attack. A clumsy grab for the cordless on her desk sent it skidding into a slip-n-slide for the edge, ending in a plastic-cracking clatter against linoleum. No doubt the phone’s battery was yards from the unit.

  The pain disappeared. A few test breaths…no crushing ache, easy draws.

  Not typical of a heart attack.

  A male voice boomed, “I need your help.”

  “Who’s there?” Glancing around, she found herself still solo in the office. Recognition dawned. Her stomach did a small crazy flip. Goosebumps prickled her arms. No mistaking that lightly accented, deep, masculine baritone. It was him.

  Violent stinging pain ripped through her chest and abdomen. From one breath to the next, it vanished. She darted into the bathroom across the hall, barely pushing through the door of a stall before her stomach emptied. Afterwards, she rinsed and spit tap water. In the mirror, she examined herself for evidence of illness. Nothing looked off other than the fact her face was the same lime green hue as the wall, and her hair was a disaster, refusing the confinement of its braid.

  Acute pain cramped again. She held onto the counter as her legs folded.

  Kira, I need your help, Ashor’s voice thundered inside her skull. She grabbed her head and sat hard on the cold floor.

  Her mind needed logic to explain this. She didn’t feel like she was losing it, but then again, if she was going crazy would she know it? She had already hallucinated him once in the past twenty-four hours. Or maybe not? Her heart thudded as her brain began to accept that perhaps their encounter in Florida had been real.

  This must be his pain. Why did she get a complimentary reality ride during the worst moments in this guy’s life? Feeling his agony led her to help him escape the Hashishins’ compound when she’d been a high school senior. The torture inflicted on Ashor back then had been no picnic to live through even secondhand. Yet she hadn’t felt anything from him in over a decade.

  Now he was speaking to her. In her mind!

  Through halting breaths, she spoke aloud, “Ashor? How are you doing this?”

  She shuffled close to the toilet when another round of threatening nausea hit. One look at the grimy floor discouraged her impulse to set up camp next to the porcelain throne.

  After a few minutes without any new mental chit-chat, she concluded she was delusional. And the nausea was gone.

  Just as she found the strength to push off the wall and go for the exit his voice exploded in her mind. Come to me.

  Her butt hit the floor. She waited, expecting more pain. None came.

  Excitement and fear coalesced. She called to him, but this time not out loud. Instead she thought, What’s going on? Where are you?

  No reply.

  This was ridiculous. Had to be her imagination.

  An impression of urgency hit her. Someone nearby struggled to stay alive. Her healing power always homed in on trauma patients about to get a Grim Reaper visit. This victim was in the emergency area of the hospital. The aura was male. Yet it was unlike that of a typical injured or sick patient. It projected a dangerous, yet mystical, vitality and stubborn rejection of aid, but there was deep pain. The emotion the aura projected dimmed, usually an indication that the person was losing consciousness.

  Kira smoothed her black pencil skirt and adjusted the plum wrap sweater into place beneath her lab coat. She swiped her stethoscope off the floor near the toilet and draped it around her neck. Her watch indicated she had exactly eight minutes to make it to bedside rounds.

  If she skipped, her patients would get stuck with an intern for the second day in a row. Guilt tugged at her to resume the daily grind.

  Curiosity won. She moved toward the anomalous aura in the ER, knowing full well she was going to get her ass reamed for skipping rounds. Intuition suggested this was a very bad, possibly life-altering decision.

  The emergency floor of the hospital bustled with the aftermath of a mass casualty incident. Waiting patients lounged everywhere. Some were walking wounded.

  Kira stayed on the periphery and avoided eye contact with medical personnel to evade an involuntary draft into the chaos. The aberrant aura radiated from a treatment room off the main emergency floor. At the doorway of the room, she scanned the four male bedridden patients. A solo nurse attended a gigantic, unconscious man in the far corner—the owner of the unusual aura.

  He had the physique of a pro wrestler. Short, blond spikes barely camouflaged an intricate blue scalp tattoo on the left side of his head. More of the stylized tribal tats etched his left cheek and neck. The monitor next to his bed read stable stats and chirped a slow mechanical ring with each heartbeat.

  Kira nodded in greeting to the unfamiliar, middle-aged brunette nurse and scanned her name badge.

  “What happened, Susan?”

  “Not sure of the details, Doctor. These two men were brought in right before the bus accident. They were found half dead on Greenmount Avenue. Such a bad part of town. It’s probably gang related. The other guy is over there.” The nurse pointed to a bed across the room. “The attending checked them out and said they could wait, if I bandaged them. I don’t know. That other guy’s stats aren’t
good, but I haven’t had a chance to hook him up to the monitor yet. It’s just me on this room right now with the bus trauma and all. I’m glad you’re here.”

  Kira nodded with mute authority.

  “I’ll take a look at them. Thanks for all the work you’ve done so far.”

  Gently, she peeled away the top of the bloody bandage encircling the blond man’s chest and gasped.

  “Yeah, it’s some tattoo, isn’t it?” Susan said as she finished her bandage on his arm.

  “Sure is.”

  That distinctive blue triangle symbol in the dead center of his chest was a Scimitar magus designation. Three scimitar blades crossed to form the edges of a triangle.

  “Need any more help from me?” asked Susan.

  “I can take it from here, if you need to move on.” Kira rested her fingers on the magus’s arm. Instantly she knew he was in shock—too much blood loss from the lacerations across his torso and blood slowly filling his chest. The stats monitor may look good, but this guy was on the road to death.

  Quickly, she moved to examine the other guy. He wasn’t Ashor. Disappointment prompted her to aura scan for any more magi in the vicinity.

  None.

  She hadn’t realized how much she wanted this to be him.

  The sleeping, dark-skinned, Asian giant radiated a potent, yet nonthreatening energy.

  As she leaned close, his eyes flew open and trapped her in a piercing black evaluation.

  His hand clamped down on her arm. “Get him out of here. Now. He has to return to his senariai…I mean, wife.”

  At his touch, info on his condition piled into her mind. He was within minutes of knocking on death’s door. The fractured ribs and pulverized left kidney were on the not-so-bad side of his injury tally. In addition to multiple fractures in both legs, he was paralyzed from two luxated vertebrae. How could he be so calm? So accepting?

  Her eyes glassed up, knowing he was a goner. “We need to get you to surgery.”

  “Too late for me…They’re coming, and I know you can sense they’re close.”

  She shot upright and scrutinized the room’s entry. A doctor she recognized as a surgery resident strode past. No one else appeared in the doorway. Yet, she did detect the icy darkness of evil closing in.