Hard Day's Knight (16 page)

Anna spoke from behind me. “Don’t you trust us, vampire?” Her voice had a mocking lilt to it that I didn’t like. Come to think of it, I can’t recall a mocking lilt that I’ve ever liked. So maybe it’s just an anti-lilt prejudice I have, but I think it’s more than that.

“I don’t trust anyone, witchy-poo. It’s how I’ve gone this long without finding splinters in my lungs.”

“Well, don’t worry, vampire, we won’t harm either of you. Tonight.” I really didn’t like the way she emphasized “tonight,” but there wasn’t anything I could do about it.

“Good idea, Anna. These boys are under my protection, and I don’t think you and yours want to bring down my disappointment, do you?” We all turned at Mike’s voice, and I swear it looked like my friend had a glowing halo around him. When he walked down to stand next to me I thought it might have just been a street light behind him, but I wasn’t sure. The glow faded as he got next to me and whispered, “Thought you’d leave the old guy to sleep, huh? When will you kids ever learn?”

Mike grabbed the zombie by the ankles and started to drag it into the circle. The process was made somewhat more difficult by the bandages on his burned hand, but he was strong for a human. The dead guy thrashed around and threatened to scuff the circle, so I grabbed it under the arms and helped Mike carry it into the right place in the pattern. I figured the chances of them closing the circle with Mike inside were significantly lower than if it was me alone in there, and I knew Greg was keeping a sharp eye out now, so I was willing to go into the circle.

I also don’t know if I could even have been trapped in the circle. Greg and Mike and I have spent a lot of hours researching what made us this way, and we have no idea if it’s mystical, extra-dimensional, extra-terrestrial, biological or something even stranger. There’s a decent chance the circle wouldn’t have bothered me any more than if it were a jail cell made of toilet paper, but I don’t like taking chances that are only “decent.” So I decided to err on the side of caution for a change and not get locked in a magical circle with a dozen zombies on the night before Halloween. Just this once.

Once Mike and I were safely on the correct side of the circle, the witches closed it with some chalk and mumbling, and then the light show started. Not really, but there was a whole lot of chanting, some smelly stuff thrown into fires at the five points of a pentacle that was scribed within the circle, and a bunch of call-and-response “spellcasting.” I was just about to make a snarky comment (I know, I was surprised I held out that long, too) when all of a sudden all the zombies leapt to their feet and rushed at the circle!

They ran into the circle like it was a wall of glass, and I was exceptionally happy to not be in there with them. They beat on the air, which to them at least was very solid, and began to wail. Not the low, guttural kind of moaning that you think of when you think of zombies, but a wail that oscillated like an air raid siren. It built in volume and pitch until Mike, Greg and I went to our knees with our hands pressed to our heads.

The witches either had earplugs, were deaf, or were protected somehow from the noise, because they kept right on chanting and singing as the keening got louder and louder. Finally, as the zombies literally blew out their voice boxes and their throats exploded with splatters of blood on the inside of the circle, silence fell again. The zombies fell to the ground, empty bodies again, and the silence was the most fantastic thing in the world. But just for a minute, then a new voice came out of the circle, and my borrowed blood ran cold as ice.

“Forgive them Father, for they know not what they do.” It was a kind voice, a gentle voice, the kind of voice that was more soothing than a mother’s croon after a nightmare but held more strength than a father’s sternest lecture. It touched me down in a part of myself that I thought had died fifteen years ago, and I felt tears fall down my face. I looked over at Mike and he had the most rapturous look on his face I’d ever seen outside a painting. He stepped towards the circle, slowly at first, then faster, then a normal steady stride. He was almost within arm’s reach of the circle when I saw what he was going to do. I saw, but I was too late to do anything about it. He was going to break the circle, and all those damned (literally and figuratively) spirits were going to be free again.

I only made it one or two steps when a black blur flew in out of the corner of my eye and knocked Mike sprawling across the grass. The seductive voice turned into a screech of disappointed rage and hurled curses in half a dozen languages at my oldest friend and my partner as they tumbled across the concrete away from the circle. I got a look at a face inside the circle, and if that was what things in Hell looked like, I was glad I was pretty much immortal. Greg held Mike down with his considerable bulk and superior strength, and I yelled over at Anna “This would be a great time to wrap this up, lady!”

The witches’ chanting grew in volume and intensity, and the light show inside the circle kicked up in earnest. Have you ever wondered what happens when you put nearly a dozen angry souls in a blender? Me neither, but much to my chagrin, now I know. The formless, faceless (thankfully) souls whirled and tumbled like psychotic Caspers in the spin cycle, with radiating red, blue and purple lights bouncing around inside the circle like a
Star Wars
rerun on fast forward. The chanting seemed to last forever, but it must have only been a few minutes, because the sky was just lightening in the east when suddenly the circle fell dark and silent. All thirteen witches slumped to the ground, immediately unconscious. I looked over at Greg and Mike, and they had stopped wrestling around and were just staring at the scene on the plaza.

I walked over to Anna and checked her for a pulse. It was strong, and as I felt the blood pulse through the side of her neck, my stomach gave an embarrassing rumble. Cut me some slack, alright? It had been a long, and painful night, and I was hungry. I shook her gently until she began to stir, and asked, “Is it done?”

She allowed me to help her stand and walk over to the edge of the circle. She took off her pentacle and passed it over several of the nearest bodies. When it didn’t even flicker, she nodded wearily. I helped her over to a bench, and quickly confirmed that all the other witches were still breathing. I carefully avoided the circle, because even if Anna had broken it by leaning over and swinging her necklace over the dead guys, I didn’t want to do anything stupid like scrub out a line with my shoe and end up having to fight all these dead guys again.

And of course, our little light show had attracted the attention I least wanted. I heard a gentle “ahem” sound and turned toward the sound. Detective Sabrina Law was standing on the edge of the concrete plaza, gun in hand and pointed straight at my heart. I hate mornings.

“Hi Detective.” I tried for a cheerful, jaunty tone, but was really too tired to pull off anything other than half-dead.

“Hi yourself, Black.”

“Please, Sabrina, call me Jimmy.”

“No thanks, Black. And my first name is Detective.” She holstered her gun and reached behind her for a pair of handcuffs. I snapped at that point. It had been a ridiculous night. I’d been handcuffed to a bowling alley chair, been beaten up by possessed middle-school girls, chased zombies all over Charlotte, been tossed through a windshield, almost gotten trapped in a magic circle by a coven of witches, and I was not about to be handcuffed again, even if it was by the sexiest cop I’d ever seen. Without even thinking of the consequences of my actions, not that I often think about them very much, I grabbed the cuffs from her, spun her around, and put them on her wrists. With her hands secured behind her back, I pulled a hanky from my back pocket and stuffed it in her mouth as a gag.

Yes, I carry a hanky. Some habits are hard to break. I carry a pocketknife, too. I’m just old-fashioned that way. Get over it.

With her successfully bound and gagged, I looked the very angry detective in the face and said, “We are about to get a lot of things straightened out. This is a terrible idea on my part and may very well end up with one or more of us dying a horrible death. But it’s the only idea I’ve got at this point, so just deal with it.” With that, I tossed her over my shoulder and started back toward Mike’s car.

“Mike,” I hollered back over my shoulder. “Pop the trunk.” He and Greg had started moving about the same time I had, and by the time I got to the car with my kicking bundle of detective, they were close enough to open the trunk. I deposited my cargo, leaned in and took the gag out. I didn’t want her to choke, after all.

I leaned into the trunk and got right into her face. With fangs on full display, I said, “Now I’m very sorry you have to ride in the trunk. And I’m very, very sorry about the level of gross going on in said trunk. But you’ve been a real pain in the butt tonight, and we’re going to my place to clear the air. So I’ll be taking this” and I removed her pistol from her side “and this” and grabbed her portable radio “to make sure you behave on the trip. Oh, and I think I’ll take these, too.” And I took her backup piece, a nice little .38 off one ankle. I also relieved her of her cell phone and her spare handcuff keys. I slammed the trunk shut and got in the passenger seat. It was nice of Greg to read my mood well enough not to make me call “shotgun.” He just got in the back seat and sat there, eyes wide.

“Let’s go home, Mike.”

“With her?” He asked.

“Yep. And we should probably not be too concerned about the speed limit or stop lights. The sun’s coming up fast, and I’d rather not be a sausage biscuit by the time we get home.” Mike drove like a bat out of hell, and we got into the cottage and downstairs just before Greg and I started to smolder. Mike moved his car around to the back, where it would be out of view from the road, and I deposited our guest in the armchair.

“Now here’s the deal. Any screaming and I gag you. I’m going to take the handcuffs off, but you can’t have any of your guns back until I decide you’re no longer a threat. Ditto your portable and cell phone. And no one will be tracking you by the
GPS
in those toys, because I took the battery out of both of them. Capiche?” She nodded.

I hadn’t bothered to re-gag her, but she just sat there with her jaw set and a supremely irritated look in her eyes. I reached around behind her to take the handcuffs off, and she leaned in and bit down on the top of my ear, hard. I yelped and pulled back, and she came with me. I’d already unfastened one cuff, so her hands were free to start punching me and gouging for my eyes, and we both tumbled to the floor in a writhing heap of black clothing and angry flesh. We rolled around on the floor for a few minutes, thrashing about until I heard Greg’s voice from the kitchen.

“Just stay on the stairs, Mike. The children are playing.”

“Oh, is that what they’re calling it these days? I realize it’s been a long time since I took my vows, but it looks decidedly like something else.” My friends share a stupid sense of humor. I usually find them amusing, but I had a giantess attached to my ear, and she kept putting a thumb in my eye socket, so I was rapidly losing patience with this game.

I let her roll us around until she was on top, and as she sat up to throw a monster punch at my face, I just looked up at her and grinned. “Why Detective, if I’d known that’s how you liked to play, I would have tied you up the first time we met.” Her eyes narrowed, and she let fly a punch that certainly would have broken my nose if it had connected. Which was exactly why I didn’t let it connect.

I caught her arm and sat up abruptly, dumping her off on her rump. I stood, still holding her wrist, and she had no option but to follow me to an upright position. When we were both standing, I marveled silently once more at her height, and then slowly steered her around until the couch was behind her. She kept hitting me the whole time, and finally connected a stinging shot to my cheek, raking her nails down the side of my face. Blood welled up in the scratches, but her eyes got very big as the scratches healed right before her eyes.

“Yeah,” I said. “That happens. Now that you know you can’t hurt me, you want to sit down and we can talk about this like grownups?” She nodded silently, her eyes never leaving the spot on my face that should have still been bleeding. I pushed her gently back to a sitting position in the armchair and said “I’m going to let you go now. If you attack me again, I’m going to knock the ever-loving crap out of you and hang you by your ankles from the rafters. Do you understand me?” She nodded, and I let go of her wrist. She rubbed it absently, catching the handcuff key I tossed to her. She uncuffed her other hand, and put the cuffs and keys back on her belt.

“What are you?” She asked after a minute.

“Do you really want to get to the tough questions this quickly?” I asked right back. “How about a beer first, at least? Or something stronger? We have a full bar.”

“Beer is good. Light if you have it.”

“Greg, a light beer for the lady. And a bourbon for me, if you don’t mind.” He fixed the drinks while I kept an eye on our guest. When he delivered the drinks, he took a position standing behind the chair. I settled onto one end of the sofa, and Mike grabbed a chair from the kitchen table for himself.

When we were all settled in, I looked over at Detective Law and laid it out for her. “Here’s the deal. We’re going to take a huge chance with everything we’re telling you tonight. Usually, whenever we get into a jam that we can’t talk our way out of immediately, we just mojo the person into forgetting they ever met us. But for some reason we can’t mojo you. So we’re going to tell you the whole story, with no BS. And when we’re done, you’re going to tell us how you plan to react. And then we all get to sit around and figure out what to do about all this.”

“All what? You mean the kidnapped girls and the pile of dead people in Marshall Park?”

“That’s part of it, but the more immediate concern to Greg and I is what you’ll do with the information we’re giving you tonight. Now, shall we get started?” She nodded.