by Lee French
Avery slid into the driver’s seat and the engine purred to life. “Relax, Claire.” He twisted around to watch her while backing the car out of its parking space. “The more you struggle, the worse it’ll be for you.”
“What are you? What is this thing?”
He smiled, full of dark amusement. “You really are just a child.”
She had no idea how to interpret that and watched in mute horror as the car sped down the city streets without Avery’s hands on the wheel, taking her away from the one place Justin might be able to find her. “Where are we going?”
“Downtown. You’ll be processed and held until such time as you decide to answer all my questions.”
She gulped. Was the car his version of Tariel? If he was a Knight, though, why was he treating her this way? “You don’t have to do all that. I’ll answer whatever questions you wanna ask. I still don’t know Justin’s last name, though. I didn’t ask, and he didn’t tell me.”
Avery’s brown eyes, which had seemed so friendly and welcoming at first, gave her a flat, cold stare in the rearview mirror. “Does he know your last name?”
Claire frowned and let her eyes settle on the back of Avery’s seat. She wanted him to believe that she needed to think about the question. If she spent enough time acting helpful and pretending to try her best, he might come to the wrong conclusions about her. From what Justin had said, she expected the Knights to welcome her into the group. That this guy didn’t made her think she needed to keep him guessing. “I don’t know. Maybe. All I can say for sure is he knows where I go to school.”
“You said you stayed at his house. Where is it?”
If she gave him nothing, he’d probably assume she was lying. She’d have to be vague. Hopefully, she could make her answer vague enough, because she had to keep this creep from going after Marie and the girls. “Um, north? I don’t really know. I was kind of freaking out when he picked me up and not really paying attention when we came back. I guess I remember going across a bridge.”
“I see,” he grumbled. “What did his house look like? The yard?”
“Um.” She shrugged. “A house? With trees? I dunno, I mostly saw the inside, not the outside. Small, I guess. I really wasn’t there very long.”
He harrumphed and turned his back on her as the car maneuvered itself through the streets. It pulled into a parking garage and descended into its fluorescent bowels. A sign informed her they’d arrived at a police station.
“I answered all your questions,” she protested.
“Yes, you did.”
“Then why are we here?”
“Did you really think I’d just let you go?” He snorted as he settled the car into a parking space. “He’s obviously connected to you. You’ll be down here until he comes looking.”
Sparks of panic jolted through her body. “You can’t just keep me in jail for no reason.”
“Sure I can. We do that all the time.” He stepped out and yanked her door open, his arm moving in a flash to grab her before she could escape. Hauling her out of the car, he squeezed her arm so tight she thought he’d leave a bruise. “Make a fuss and you get to see what we do to people for resisting arrest.” He pulled hard enough to make her stumble and dragged her to the nearest building entrance.
“What am I being arrested for?”
“Truancy.”
She gaped up at him. “I was suspended!”
“Ah. Good point.” After a brief pause, he said, “Fighting, then. Zero tolerance is harsh these days. Especially when a witness reported you had a knife.”
“Nobody said that, you’re just making stuff up!”
“It’s a shame how you’re turning out, Claire. Most kids do fine in the system here. You, though? Fighting, running away, using drugs, shoplifting…”
“What?”
They stepped into an elevator, and she struggled in his grip. He squeezed again, this time until she stopped with a whimper and watched the doors close. “Of course, all this will be cleared up as soon as I have Justin. Until then, your paperwork will be mysteriously difficult to locate.”
“Wait. I, um.” Claire imagined herself inside juvenile hall—or worse, shuffled into an adult prison “by accident”—and had no idea what to do.
Avery peered down his nose at her. “Well? You have something else to say? Spit it out.”
She gulped.
The elevator doors opened. People, most in police uniforms, bustled about with folders, clipboards, or computer tablets. A female officer stepped into the elevator, giving Avery a polite nod. Avery tightened his grip again. Afraid he’d do worse things if she struggled, she stayed quiet. They stepped out on the next floor.
She searched faces as they walked down a hallway, wishing one would seem sympathetic. None did. Avery tossed her into a dingy little room with a metal table flanked by two metal chairs, where he clipped her handcuffs into a metal loop on one side of the table. It locked in somehow, ensuring she couldn’t leave without dragging the table along. He slammed the door shut, leaving her there alone.
Scenarios flashed through her mind. One had Justin bursting in to rescue her. Another had Avery torturing her until she gave him Justin’s address. Wilder ideas cropped up of him having an evil master or mistress somewhere. He’d rough her up. When that didn’t work, he’d take her to this cartoonish supervillain and leave her there. When they finished doing whatever they wanted with her, he’d kill her and throw her body in the river.
Him being a cop confused her. Cops were supposed to uphold the laws, not throw people in jail for no reason. On top of that, she figured Knights would all be like Justin. Except Avery had told her, point-blank, that he would lie to keep her in jail for as long as he needed to. And she had no idea why. Fresh panic made her yank at her hands. Nothing happened, except for the cuffs scraping her wrists.
“I need to get out of here,” she told the room. Twisting in a panic, she noticed the camera perched in one corner near the ceiling. “Let me out,” she begged it. “I didn’t do anything! He’s crazy. Please let me out!” She pulled on the cuffs again. “I just want to go home, please let me go home.” She reached for whatever words would help, and found none. “Please,” she repeated, her eyes burning with tears.
The door flew open, and she flinched away from it. Though the cuffs prevented her from hiding all the way under the table, she ducked down and tried to use it as a shelter. “Don’t hurt me,” she whimpered into her arms.
Avery chuckled. “I didn’t even do anything yet, Claire. Here’s how this is going to go. You’re going to tell me everything you know about Justin. You will not leave this room until you do. That’s it, end of story.” He scraped a chair across the industrial-tile floor and draped his suit jacket over the back. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way, of course. I think you’d prefer the easy way, because I think you don’t want to discover what the hard way is really like.”
Her mouth went dry and her voice cracked when she tried to speak. His rumbling laughter sparked a fire in her belly. She popped her head up to glare over the table at him. “You can’t just beat me up in here. There’s a camera, and the other officers won’t let you.”
“Oh, Claire, you’re so naïve.” He smirked at her. “You’re a suspect now, and the camera is mysteriously turned off. By the time you can find someone to lodge whatever complaint you think you deserve to, your paperwork will be long shuffled away, and no one will remember anything about this. Someone will check the camera and discover that no one knows how long it’s had a short in the circuitry, because no one has subpoenaed the records in months.”
There had to be some other thing she could say, some other way to get him to reconsider. “If you hurt me, Justin is going to kill you.”
“He can try.” Avery paced around the table and grabbed her yet again. Instead of hauling her to her feet as she expected, he jerked her up to smash her head into the table.
Claire squealed in surprise, then groaned in pain. He repe
ated the motion three times, then let her go to slump to the floor, the cuffs cutting into her wrists. She moaned and pressed her arms around her aching skull. “Please stop.”
He crouched down and pressed a finger under her chin to force her to look at him. As soon as she met his gaze, he let go and slapped her hard enough to sting. “Tell me what he is to you. Why did he let you stay at his home?”
The question seemed too innocuous and he should already know the answer. Then again, Justin had to concentrate to see whatever marked her as a Knight, and he’d been surprised by it. Avery wouldn’t think to check, and it might not change how he treated her anyway. “Because he’s a nice guy.”
“This is a simple question, Claire, and it’s only going to get worse from here.”
Her head hurt, and she wanted to make it stop. If he only promised to stop hitting her, she’d tell him anything and everything. But the casual way he banged her head and his sinister calm meant she wouldn’t believe him even if he did promise that. “No.”
“So be it.”
Chapter 12
Justin
“You should go talk to Kurt.” Marie looped her arm through Justin’s for the short walk home from her parents’ house. They’d left the girls there and would pick them up again on Sunday afternoon.
“We have a rare weekend alone together, and you want to send me off?”
She grinned. “No. But you need to talk to him. You have that crinkle in your forehead.”
“I don’t have a crinkle.”
“You do. It’s right there.” She tapped his head.
He reached up and rubbed the spot. “You just want me to go so you can invite all your friends over to have a pillow fight in lingerie without me.”
“Tempting.” She let go when he opened the door for her and slipped out of her garden clogs in the entry. “I was actually thinking I might read a book without anyone interrupting me for an hour. I might even be convinced to do it in bed, wearing that red thing you like.”
Wiping his boots on the outside mat, he smirked at her. “Or I could ravish you now and go tomorrow.”
She waved him off and gave him a pleasant view of her back. Tight jeans hugged her wide hips, and she waggled her butt for him. “If you go now, though, I’ll have time to get a surprise ready, and then you can laze about all day tomorrow.”
He sighed. Once she’d made up her mind, it would take more than “I don’t wanna” to change it. “Fine, woman. Don’t fall asleep without me.” Shutting the door on her laughter, he huffed another sigh and jogged to his tree. On the other side, he strode through the Palace, greeting others on his way to Kurt’s room.
When he raised his hand to knock on the door for room 462, it opened, and a tall, dark-skinned Knight walked out. “Hey, Djembe.”
Djembe held up a hand, and Justin backed away so he could close the door. He leaned in and spoke softly. “He hasn’t got much time left.” His accent revealed his Ethiopian childhood and British schooling.
Justin flicked his eyes to the door. Something squeezed his chest. “What do you mean? He was fine yesterday.”
Djembe shook his head. “He crafted an illusion. A good one, and long-lasting. It took too much out of him. I think he’s ready too.”
“I’m not ready.”
“Don’t think that matters so very much, my friend.” Djembe patted his shoulder. “Best to say goodbye while you can.” He gave Justin a strained smile, then walked away.
Staring at the door, Justin rubbed his eyes. He’d always known this day would come, but why did it have to be now, when he needed advice? While the Palace had hundreds of other Knights to talk to about it, he didn’t want any of them. Justin wanted the man who had put a weathered, calloused hand on his bewildered eighteen-year-old shoulder and explained that he couldn’t hold down his regular job anymore, and they’d figure something out for his young wife and the daughter they were about to have.
Sucking up his pride and going to Marie’s father had been Kurt’s idea. He’d come along, even, and helped explain. Without his goading and presence, Justin’s family would be living on the street or in a dingy little apartment, squeaking by on whatever he and Marie could somehow scrape together each month. Instead, Jack and Tammy let them live at the farm and use their electricity and water.
He knocked on the door and walked inside. The smell hit him first. It reminded him of visiting his grandmother at her nursing home before she died. Death hung in the air. Rounding the corner, he found Kurt sitting in his usual chair, a blanket covering his legs and his head resting against the cushion. Today he seemed more shriveled, as if the chair siphoned him away bit by bit.
Beside him, a beautiful woman sat in a folding chair, holding his hand. She looked up at Justin with a dazzling, ruby-red smile. “Kurt, you have another visitor.” Her voice filled the room with a soft, sweet melody.
It took him a moment to remember that she couldn’t be real. “Sorry to interrupt.”
“Oh, don’t you worry about it. Kurt can barely talk anymore, though.” She brushed his cheek with her hand.
Kurt stirred. His mouth moved and only a bare hint of a whisper came out.
“He says he wishes you didn’t have to see him like this, but he got a little carried away with the illusion. You can take the hat back whenever you want.” Her gesture dragged his attention to the hat on the nightstand.
“Dammit.” Justin hung his head and scratched the back of his neck. “I got myself an apprentice.”
Kurt wheezed. It might have been laughter.
“Of course you did, boy.” The words came out in the woman’s voice, but he recognized Kurt in them. His mind, still sharp, must have been controlling her. “It’s a circle. A wheel. What goes around comes around. I bet he’s as much of a mess as you were.”
He opened his mouth to correct Kurt’s pronouns, then shut it. What good would that do? The old man could be dead any day now, and he might not be able to wrap his head around a girl as a Knight. Even if he could, Kurt would have to think about it. They might not have that much time. “You could say that.”
“It’s not rocket science, boy. Find him a place to feel safe, whether it’s with you or not. Listen to what he says. Teach him what you know. Help him fix his problems without doing it for him. Simple. You’ll be fine.”
Nodding, he sighed. He’d muddle through somehow. Or Claire would bump into someone else here and decide he’d be a better mentor. Imagining her working with another Knight bothered him. He’d already opened his home to her and accepted responsibility for her. When he went to visit her next, he hoped she’d at least let him explain. If she wanted him to go away at that point, he’d leave. Maybe he could steer her in Avery’s direction.
Chapter 13
Claire
Claire lay curled up on the hard, flat shelf in a holding cell, stiff from having cried herself to sleep. Clutching her locket, she begged her father to give her strength. She didn’t dare move, for fear of someone deciding she needed to go back to Avery. Everything hurt from head to toe. He’d taken her shoes, leaving her in knee-high orange and pink swirl socks, which had fallen to puddle around her ankles. One eye had swollen shut, and a scab crusted her lip.
She lay there, her thoughts scattered and incoherent, knowing only that Marie and the girls had been nice to her, and she wouldn’t let him hurt them. They didn’t deserve to have some lunatic cop storming their house and using them against Justin. Besides, Justin would come and rescue her, she knew it. If she held out long enough, he would come for her.
Footsteps scuffed down the concrete hall, putting tension in her shoulders. A heavy key ring jangled and clanged on metal. Hinges creaked. “On your feet,” Avery barked.
“I can’t,” she breathed. In truth, she thought she could. Hope flickered in her chest. If she pretended to be more injured than she really felt, he might leave her alone or do something different.
“Try.”
The undisguised menace in his tone made her p
ush herself up enough to roll over. Her feet dangled from the bench. Was that too much? Her head did throb with a deep ache. The clank of handcuffs he’d promised not to use if she cooperated made her struggle to sit up. One more pathetic push sent her crumpling to the cold, hard floor at his feet.
“Oh, Claire.” He sighed. “I really did expect more from you. With such a troubled childhood, you ought to be able to withstand a beating better than this.” He grabbed the back of her shirt and picked her up with an ease that reminded her of Justin and his strength. The world spun and she wound up slung over his shoulder, her arms dangling and head pounding. Every step he took sent a jolt of agony into her belly that echoed in her skull.
She wanted to ask where he intended to take her but stuffed the question down in the hope he’d think she’d fallen unconscious. No one who passed them stopped him or asked any questions as he carried her down a flight of stairs and into a closet. When he shut the door, he dropped her onto the floor. Confused, she stayed limp in the dark, little room that smelled of bleach and ammonia, watching him through a curtain of hair.
He stayed there for two heartbeats, his eyes unfocused, then turned around and opened the door again. Everything was different. Instead of the hallway, she saw a star-filled night sky. Cool air blew into the cramped room. He grabbed her by the hair and yanked.
She squealed and grabbed his arm.
“Not as unconscious as you seem,” Avery sneered. “Get up.”
With the sharp pain in her scalp on top of everything else, she clambered to her feet and stumbled along behind him. “Is this the Palace?”
He stopped so abruptly that she walked into him and jerked her head forward. She whimpered and tried to look away from his suspicious glare. “What do you know about the Palace?”