Karen Duvall - Darkest Knight

“Chalice!” Rusty stuck her head out the open window. “Are you coming? Or would you rather wait for the entire town to burn down first?”

I lurched toward the Jeep and Rafe grabbed my arm. He dipped his chin. “You don’t want something to accidentally slip from your pocket, do you?”

I blinked. Shit. I still had Shojin’s heart. When I started to hand it to Rafe, he backed away. “I can’t touch it.”

Damn.

“Give me one more sec,” I shouted at Rusty, then ran around to the back of the house. A large ponderosa tree stood sentry there, a ring of melting snow at its base. I grabbed a stick to dig in the slightly frozen ground, creating a hole just big enough to conceal the heart. I buried it, then packed a few handfuls of snow on top. That would have to do for now. I’d find a better hiding place when I got back.

five

IT TOOK LESS THAN TEN MINUTES FOR US to reach the burned-out farmhouse at the edge of town. Flames flared orange in the distance, black smoke billowing up to blend with a gloomy sky. The house was just a smoldering mess of charred wood, exposed brick and chunks of blackened plumbing.

Natalie grabbed a toy truck from the ground and clutched it to her chest. “He’s still alive.”

“What?” I shot a look at Rusty, who appeared equally surprised. “Who are you talking about?”

Natalie swallowed. “The child no one knew was home when the fire started.”

Oh, my God. “Where are the parents?” I wondered out loud.

Natalie shook her head. “Not here, that much I know. But the boy is close. I can sense him.”

Rusty gave me a disapproving look. “If the boy inhaled too much smoke he may not be alive for much longer.”

“Don’t you have a fire to put out?” I asked, though I was more annoyed with myself than with Rusty. I shouldn’t have taken so much time to hide Shojin’s heart. Handing Rusty the ox horn, I told her, “Take this with you.”

She pushed it away. “I’m fine on my own. I don’t need help from a hex that once belonged to the Vyantara.”

I understood how she felt, but seriously? This from someone who whipped up a cloaking spell like a quick cup of coffee? “It can help you. Breathe through it if the smoke gets too thick. It acts as a kind of oxygen mask.”

“Thanks, but no thanks.” She turned and sprinted toward a line of flames less than a mile away. “I’ll send help back for the boy,” she shouted over her shoulder.

“I hope she’s as good at fighting fires as she is at being stubborn,” I said to Natalie.

“She is,” Natalie told me. “Though I wish she’d accepted your offer.” Her dark eyes shone with concern. “The knights are not invincible. We could use the help.”

Help against an unknown, and unnatural, enemy. The kind of help that only something equally unnatural could provide.

I wanted to ask her about the others, what she knew about them and their powers. I wanted details about the knights who had survived. And though it was peaceful here in the deserted yard of a burned-out farmhouse, a clock was ticking. An injured child, possibly a dying one, needed someone to find him.

I watched, breathless, as Natalie’s skin paled enough to rival the whiteness of snow beneath our feet. Her fingers worked over the metal toy, its bright yellow body dented, scratched and rusting on the edges. She gripped the thing as if clinging to life, which its owner might have been doing himself right then. Her knuckles turned bone-white and a drop of blood trickled down the side of her hand that had been cut on the old metal truck.

I knew better than to interrupt a psychometrist’s connection to a subject. She was linked to this child and disturbing her now could break the tie, or worse. I’d witnessed a psychic lose his sanity when someone hastily tore him away from the object he clutched. His mind was still attached to his subject and he never recovered. I wasn’t about to take that chance with Natalie. A cut hand was nothing compared to a lost mind.

A tear slipped free from Natalie’s glazed eyes. “He’s hiding.”

I’d guessed that already but kept my mouth shut. She was thinking out loud, expressing her vision.

“He’s cold,” she said, and freed one hand from the toy to hug herself. “And scared.”

“Where is he?”

She swiveled to directly face the farmhouse and pointed. “There.”

Impossible. The house had burned to the ground. Nothing could have survived that.

“Can you show me?” I asked her.

She shook her head. “That’s what I see. The house. And a darkness so black it’s as if he’s blind.”

“Is he?”

“No.”

Which meant some part of the house had been protected from the fire. “I’ll go look.”

“Be careful,” Natalie said.

No one needed to tell me that, but I still promised, “I will be.”

Seeing the charred remains of furniture and other household stuff tossed here and there reminded me of the Vyantara fatherhouse that had blown up soon after I’d summoned my fallen angel father. But there were no scattered charms and curses here, and thankfully no ghosts, either. Just ruined pieces of a family that had probably lived here for generations.

As I weaved through the smoldering ruins, I visualized the dissolving of walls that guarded my senses. The first sound I heard was a sobbing child. The boy had breath enough to cry and that lightened my heart with relief.

I squinted through the lingering smoke. No auras were visible, and therefore nothing alive that I could see. The boy’s crying sounded weak, but I could still feel it through the soles of my boots. He was below ground. I sniffed the air and, although it was heavily scented with the smell of burned wood and plastic, a subtle aroma of soap and shampoo wafted through. The bathrooms above ground had been destroyed, which meant the scent came from the boy.

“What’s his name?” I called to Natalie, who stood at a safe distance.

“Timmy.”

“Timmy?” I called out. “Can you hear me?”

I heard coughing, then a murmured reply I couldn’t make out. He began sobbing quietly again.

“Can you knock on something for me?” I asked, following the trail of muted sound to what must have been the kitchen. A blackened refrigerator lay on its side. “Knock on the wall or the floor. Anything.”

No answer.

And no more crying.

I hoped we weren’t too late. Where was the boy’s family? Why was he left here alone?

My vision could penetrate thin surfaces like paint and paper, even some fabrics. But the solid objects around me were too dense. However, I did manage to see through the black ashes covering the floor and noticed the outline of a door. A cellar door. And the charred refrigerator lay directly on top of it.

I crouched down to try pushing it off, but it was way too heavy for me. Timmy was down there; I could hear him breathing, but only barely.

“Natalie, I found him!” I called out. “He’s in the basement, but I can’t get to him. There’s a refrigerator blocking the door.”

“Help should have been here by now!” she yelled back, and I heard the Jeep’s door slam shut. “Hang tight, I’ll take care of it.” The engine started, followed by the sound of tires crunching over snow.

I kept pushing at the fridge, but it hardly budged. Whatever had been inside leaked out onto the blackened linoleum in a dark putrid mess. I closed my eyes to concentrate. Timmy was still breathing.

Then I heard something new. Wings flapped loudly above me and I glanced up at the sky, seeing nothing. Yet a sudden wind swept my hair back and flung ash and charred bits of wood in my face. Still crouched low to the ground, I covered my head with my arms.

I smelled damp fur and animal musk, but also a natural spicy scent I remembered from when he was human. Aydin had found me. Or maybe he’d been following me from the start. Either way, it was a relief to have him here even if I couldn’t see him.