The Memphis Knights

by Phillip Drayer Duncan

  I finished putting on my gear except for the tie. I hated ties. I didn’t bother to button my suit jacket either. The tailor had tried to put me in full a tuxedo, but I’d refused. Instead, I picked out a pair of black pants, a matching suit jacket, and a black dress shirt. I refused the vest and he could go to hell with the tie.

  Satisfied with what I saw in the mirror, I stepped out of the dressing room so the tailor could appraise me. He was an elderly gentleman who spoke few words. He was dedicated though and as soon as I was out in the open he began circling around me, inspecting.

  “How do I look, Ham?” I asked.

  “Not bad,” the Satyr said. “But we’re going to have to do something about your hair.”

  “I was afraid you were going to say that,” I replied, running a hand through my shaggy mane. I glanced back at him. Tufts of reddish-brown peeked out from beneath his trucker hat. “You’re one to talk.”

  “I know how to clean up,” he replied, crossing his arms.

  The tailor folded up a silky white cloth thing and shoved it into the breast coat pocket.

  “What’s that for?” I asked.

  “Completes the look,” the tailor said. “Matches your shoes.”

  Hamish glanced down then and saw what I wore on my feet.

  “No way,” he said. “You can’t wear those.”

  “When did you go from hillbilly to hipster?” I replied. “You’re my babysitter, not the fashion police. Besides, the tailor thinks it looks good.”

  The tailor snorted but didn’t reply.

  “Hillbilly?” Hamish replied. “Like you’re one to talk. If our Treasurer reports this to Victor, I’m dead. At least get dress shoes.”

  “These are dress shoes,” I replied, pointing toward the wall with the fancy footwear. “They came from over there.”

  Unbeknownst to me, it had apparently become trendy for wedding parties to wear Chuck Taylors, and according to the tailor, a lot of tux shops carried them as a result. This was news to me. Very good news considering I was being forced to wear a suit against my will. At least I’d still have my Chucks.

  “Besides,” I said, grinning at him. “You haven’t seen what Riley picked out, yet.”

  Apparently, the gods were smiling on me, because no sooner than I said it, the homeless man stepped out of his own dressing room in a bright purple suit.

  He grinned from ear to ear and asked, “How do I look?”

  “Smashing,” I replied.

  “You look like grape Popsicle,” Hamish said, putting a hand up to his face.

  “Oh, leave him alone, hillbilly,” I said. “A short time in Memphis and now you’re a full blown city folk.”

  “Bite me,” Hamish replied.

  Riley took a spin. “I always wanted a purple suit.”

  And a purple suit, he had. Purple pants, purple jacket, purple vest, and a purple tie. They’d even had purple shoes to go along with it. The jacket looked a bit big to my untrained eye, but otherwise it seemed to work. All we needed was some green hair die and white face paint, and he’d look like the Joker. It was brilliant.

  Hamish groaned. “Do you realize how much trouble you’re going to get me in?”

  “Hey, it was your idea to invite me to Memphis,” I replied. “You knew the consequences.”

  “At least you didn’t bring Axel,” he said, shaking his head.

  “See, there’s a positive outlook,” I replied. “The glass is half full, Hambone.”

  Hamish sulked while the tailor inspected Riley. When he was done, the tailor approached us and said, “It’s the best I can do on short notice. Unless you guys want to choose something else.”

  “I’m good with my selection,” I replied, then glanced at Riley. “You good with yours?”

  “Abso-frikin-lutely,” he replied, studying himself in the mirror.

  “Victor is going to kill me,” Hamish said for the thousandth time.

  “Look how happy he is,” I said, motioning toward Riley. “How long do you reckon it’s been since he got to wear a clean suit?”

  Hamish sighed. “Yeah, I suppose.”

  “You’re doing a good thing.”

  “With my employer’s money. You’re likely to get me fired.”

  “Tell them you were compelled by heavenly powers.”

  “That’s likely to get me slapped.”

  “Okay,” I said, rubbing my chin. My goal wasn’t to risk Hamish’s job. He seemed happy enough working for the Knights and I certainly didn’t want to screw it up. An idea occurred to me. “Tell them to send a bill to the Ozark Mountain Cabal, attention to Parker Grimm.”

  “That’s more like it,” he said, grinning. “I’ll get squared up if you want to change back into your normal clothes.”

  “Next stop haircuts,” I replied as I headed back toward the changing room. “Riley needs one too.”

  “Of course he does,” Hamish said, shaking his head. “I’m sending that bill to the Cabal as well.”

  Chapter 15

  After clothes shopping and getting our hair did, Hamish drove us into Midtown and to the home of the Memphis Knights.

  I knew we were at the clubhouse before we ever pulled in. If the tall metal privacy fence surrounding the block wasn’t hint enough, the skull with the Templar cross painted on the gate certainly was. The top of the fence was covered in razer wire, making the whole compound look more like a minimum security prison than a biker hangout.

  There was a guard shack at the gate. I didn’t get a good luck at the guard but when Hamish waved at him, he waved back, and the gate slid open.

  Once inside, I saw that all the buildings were laid out in a square, save one. The driveway split in two directions which created road that ran in a big loop in front of all the different buildings. Directly in the center of the compound, and seemingly very out of place, was an old gray-stone chapel. It was two stories tall with stained-glass windows and a massive steeple. It looked like something I’d expect to find in the hills of Ireland, not in the center of Memphis.

  “Beautiful, isn’t it?” Hamish asked. “That’s where the Memphis Knights started. They built the compound around it.”

  “It’s something,” I replied.

  “It’s gorgeous,” Riley said from the back seat. He leaned forward, starring at it. “Absolutely gorgeous.”

  It was impressive. No doubt about. But turning in my seat, I saw that Riley was quite moved by the chapel. More so than I.

  Noticing my gaze, he gave me a shy smile and said, “Used to preach a bit. Nothing like that, mind you. Just a little chapel with a little congregation.”

  His eyes took on a faraway look and I didn’t press him for more. Whatever was in the old man’s past, it was his business.

  “Yeah,” Hamish said, saving us from the awkward silence. “All the Knights, their families, and lot of us who work for them attend services there.”

  “Wow,” I replied.

  Then he pointed toward a large newer building. “That’s the actual club house where the Knights meet up to talk shop and hang.”

  Next, he pointed toward a large brick building just past it. “Armory.”

  “Nice,” I replied.

  “That metal building just past it there, with the six overhead doors, that’s the garage.” Then he motioned toward a field with a number of obstacles set out. “Training grounds. That’s where they practice sword play, hand-to-hand combat, and that sort of thing.”

  “Also, cool,” I said with an appreciative nod. “We’ve got a similar setup with some of the Cabal’s compounds. Just no church.” I pointed toward what looked like several small cabins near the back of the property. “What are those?”

  “All the senior Knights get a cabin on site. All the committee members, the enforcers, and so on. Just in case they’re working a lot or doing training. Gives them some personal space and for the ones who have families, they can stay there as well. Some of the Chaplain Brothers get a place too, though, they have rooms in the c
hapel basement as well. A few live there full time.”

  He pointed toward a series of old metal buildings in the other corner. “Those are the bunk houses. The two nicer ones have private dorm rooms for each of the patched Knights. A few higher-ranking employees get rooms as well. We’ll be staying in one of the three shabbier looking ones. That’s where the hired help and squires stay.”

  “Squires?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “Prospects,” he said, clarifying. “Guys and gals who come along and think they have what it takes to be a Knight. That’s where they stay while they’re in training. If they earn their patch and their sword, they can move into the other, but not until then.”

  “Do they get a lot of volunteers?”

  “Some,” Hamish said. “But very few make the cut.”

  “What about you?” I asked. “They seem to trust you well enough for having only been here a short time. And you’re a scrapper. I’ve seen that.”

  Hamish smiled but shook his head. “Nah, I’m no holy man, Wyatt. There’s more to earning the patch than just being good with a sword or gun. They’re kind of like you in a way. The sword doesn’t choose them and all that, but only the pure of heart can carry one of their sacred blades. Don’t ask me how it works, but I’ve seen enough to know it’s true. Templar magic requires one to have real faith and a good heart. Otherwise the magic don’t work.”

  After what I’d seen, I wasn’t so sure that was true, but I wasn’t going to argue with him. My satyr friend was clearly enamored with the Knights, and after what he and his family had been through, if the Knights could offer them a comfortable life and some measure of security, well, good for them.

  “It sounds like you’ve done well here,” I said.

  “Yeah, a little bit of hard work and brains goes a long way. Plus, satyrs are tough. We go to battle with them sometimes, but mostly in a support capacity, so it never feels all that dangerous. It’s kind of like they’re the SWAT team and we’re the uniforms stopping traffic up the road. It’s not a bad gig. Plus, it’s usually just unruly suck heads or flea ridden were-creatures. Bit of gang activity. Nothing too serious.”

  “Not a lot of demons for them to fight in Memphis?”

  “What do you think?” he asked. “Used to be a lot more I hear. Back in the early days they were true demon hunters. Now, though...” He paused to shrug. “They haven’t had to take out a real demon since I’ve been around. They’re still vigilant, though.”

  Hamish pulled up in front of the bunkhouse and we got out. A group of about ten surly looking men and women stood outside, drenched in sweat. Judging by the perspiration on their faces and shortness of breath, I guessed they’d just been on a run. Each of them was dressed in gray cotton shorts and a black t-shirt that said ‘PROSPECT’ across the chest.

  They seemed curious about us. At least until a short burly man with a long beard, a bullring in his nose, and tattoos on his bald head came around the corner and glared at them. He reminded me of Gimli from Lord of the Rings. That is if Gimli’s head had been shaved and covered in tattoos. He looked to be in his late fifties, but was still shredded like a professional body builder.

  He scowled at them and said, “What do you squires think you’re doing?”

  “We finished the run,” A young middle eastern man said. “Just like you said, Patch Captain.”

  “Finished the run?” he asked, glancing between them. “I saw at least half you walking that last lap. Take another. This time come back running or don’t come back at all.”

  The prospects stared at one another for a moment, then took off in a pack, all of them at a slow jog.

  The Patch Captain looked over at us and assessed both Riley and I with a careful eye. “Who the hell are you?”

  “This is the Blade Mage,” Hamish said, pointing at me. “Victor told me to bunk him with the squires.”

  “Ah, yeah,” he replied in a husky voice. “Well, we’ve got the room. Only a small batch of recruits at the moment, but be warned, I intend to wake them all up at four in the morning for another run. I’ll be making a lot of noise, so just roll over and go back to sleep. Unless you feel inclined to join us.”

  “Uh, thanks,” I replied, sticking out my hand. “I’m Wyatt. This is Riley.”

  “Names Brother Louie,” he replied, squeezing my hand in his. “Standard Bearer and Patch Captain of the Memphis Knights.”

  “Does that make you the drill sergeant?” I asked.

  “Makes me the god-dammed baby sitter,” he replied, shaking his head. “I’m responsible for the squires from the time they show up to damn near when they patch. Eventually, the ones who make it far enough will get assigned an individual Knight to ‘squire’ for. Really just means they get to babysit them instead. After that, we test them, and if they pass, they get to become Knights. There’s a lot of running before that, though.”

  Hamish grinned. “Brother Louie is hard on the prospects, but don’t let him fool you. He’s a big teddy bear.”

  “Keep telling people that shit and I’ll have you out there running, goat man,” Brother Louie replied, scowling. He glanced back at me. “It’s my job to ensure the prospects are in adequate physical shape. I also oversee their combat training and religious teachings. Being a Knight isn’t a joke.”

  I nodded. “It seems like you have a real good program. I went through similar training with the Cabal.”

  “Yeah, I guess you would have,” he replied, staring me up and down. “So, you’re Connor Draven’s boy, aren’t you?”

  “Yes,” I replied.

  “Good man,” he said. “I hear not all my brethren are happy you’re here. If anyone gives you too hard of time, let ole Louie know. I’ll straighten them out for you. Unless you were being an ass and deserved it.”

  “Fair enough,” I said with a chuckle “I appreciate the hospitality.”

  “Yeah, no problem. Make yourself at home,” he said, pointing his thumb toward the bunkhouse. “You going to the wake party tonight?”

  “I guess so,” I replied. “Though I don’t quite know what to expect.”

  “This is Memphis, kid. Expect nothing except good music and kick ass barbecue. Everything else is up in the air.”

  With that, he strolled away.

  Hamish led us into the old bunk house. It was worse than I’d expected, and I’d kept my expectations pretty low. Cement floors. Metal beds. Group bathrooms. The constant sound of dripping water.

  I glanced at Hamish. “This sucks.”

  Riley cackled beside me. “This is heaven. There’s a roof over our head and beds, Wyatt. I haven’t slept in a bed in months. And a shower. I usually wash up in the truck stop bathroom. This will be wonderful.”

  “Right,” I said, sharing a glance with Hamish. “Perspective and all that.”

  Hamish shrugged. “Well, at least we get to go to a fancy-dress party.”

  “Right,” I repeated, glancing across the long dimly lit room. “I guess we should settle in.”

  Chapter 16

  It didn’t take long for me to get bored sitting around in the bunkhouse and we still had some time to burn before the wake party. Hamish had to report in and Riley was passed out on his bunk. So, I decided to take a walk around the compound.

  I hadn’t forgotten what Victor said about staying in the presence of a Knight, but there weren’t any in the bunkhouse, anyway. Maybe he didn’t care so long as I was in the compound. Or maybe he didn’t know. Either way, I wasn’t going to worry about it.

  I headed out the front of the bunkhouse and walked along the road. There were a few people milling about, but not many.

  Brother Louie had his trainee’s working through an obstacle course while he shouted insults at them. I stood off from a distance and watched for a few moments. I dared not get to close for fear he might invite me to participate.

  I continued on the path and passed the garage where Hamish said they worked on their motorcycles. I recognized Brother Barajas standing out fr
ont with two other patched members and one guy in a mechanic jumpsuit. As I passed the four of them turned and watched me. Actually, ‘glared at me’ would probably be more accurate. I wasn’t sure what I’d done to earn their ire, but they didn’t invite me over for cookies. So, I gave them a friendly wave and walked on as though I didn’t notice their open hostility.

  I passed a few more people, and while they didn’t seem hostile like Barajas, none of them seemed interested in speaking to me. Apparently, word had gotten around about who I was. Given the circumstances, I wasn’t sure if people were avoiding me because I was a wizard or because they were worried what Victor would think if they were too nice to me.

  I was just about to give up hope on finding anyone worth talking to when I caught sight of Tooter. I was near the cabins and just caught a glimpse of him before disappeared between the buildings. Undeterred, I cut over hoping I could catch up with him.

  It wasn’t that I was desperate for conversation, but I wanted to learn more about the order. Parker and the Kingsnakes had been able to give me the basics, but there was a lot more going on with this organization that might be pertinent to uncovering the truth of Abner’s murder. Also... I was desperate for conversation. I’d gotten used to having Axel around all the time and I was having withdrawals from the endless stream of nonsense that poured from his mouth.

  I spotted Tooter again as he made his way toward the back row of cabins. I almost called out to him, but he disappeared behind a cabin before I could. Besides, based on my reception so far, I decided it probably wouldn’t help matters to go screaming through the compound.