by Lee French
That had been a stupid question to ask. Claire gulped and forced herself to breathe. “N-nothing. Justin mentioned it once, that’s all.”
“Why?”
She froze. “Uh.”
He swept her legs out from underneath her and let go of her hair. She landed hard on her bottom and bit her tongue. As she groaned, he grabbed the front of her shirt and lifted his hand to strike her.
“Stop.” The new voice sounded breathy and had a strange echo that made it seem to come from everywhere at once.
Avery shoved her to the ground instead of slapping her. Her hands hit the dark stone floor first, scraping already raw flesh and making her bleed. If he tried that again, she’d be ready to hit him back.
“What is this?” The new voice still had no source.
“Justin’s taken her in.” Avery shrugged. “I thought she might be useful in luring him to us or helping us find him.”
“She’s damaged.”
“She’s resisted helping me so far. I chose to employ enhanced interrogation techniques.”
“And did that work?” The voice sounded familiar somehow, yet also distant and detached.
Avery glanced at her, his mouth drawing into a disappointed frown. “Not yet.”
The air stirred with a warm, gentle breeze. “I…know you. Why do I know you?”
Claire looked for the source of the voice that resonated with her and saw no one. Wisping around her, the breeze pushed her chin up until she faced the sky. One pinprick of white light above widened until a pale beam enveloped her. A misty hand reached out and brushed her cheek.
“I know you.” His face pushed into the light, as translucent as his hand.
She gasped. “Daddy?”
“Am I?” He frowned.
The force holding her head up faded away, and Claire stared at the fuzzy face of Mark Terdan, not knowing what to say or do. From Avery’s treatment, she thought this place would hold something terrifying, something vengeful, hateful, and angry.
“It’s Claire, Daddy.”
“Claire.” His form lost focus. “You’re hurt.” He took her hand and ice flooded into it. Cold sped up her arm, across her shoulder, and through her body. It shocked her pain away, then it receded, leaving her feeling whole again. “She will not be harmed again.”
“Of course not,” Avery said through clenched jaws. “She does know where to find Justin, though.”
“Claire, we need to know where Justin is.”
She wanted to believe him, and to believe in him. “Why? Aren’t you both Knights? Can’t you just go to the Palace thing and find him there?”
Mark turned to Avery. “What did you tell her?”
Avery crossed his arms and scowled. “Nothing. She spent the night with Justin. He must have told her things or let her overhear things.”
“Spent the night?” Mark furrowed his brow as he turned to regard her again.
“I slept on his couch,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “He’s really happily married. They have little kids and everything.”
Mark put his hands on her shoulders and met her eyes with a hard stare. “He’s dangerous. Whatever he told you about the Knights, it’s all a lie. They want to believe they’re doing good, but the truth is, they’re corrupting the land in a futile attempt to tame Phasms for their own purposes. Even Justin. Will you help us stop them?”
She gazed into her father’s eyes and believed every word he said. Yet Justin had been nice to her, and she’d already been a pain to him. Even if he worked for the wrong team, he still had a great family. Avery couldn’t be trusted to treat Marie and the girls with the kind of care they deserved. He’d already shown how he preferred to handle his problems.
“Something’s not right with her.” Avery crouched down and poked her arm. “The more I look at her, the more I think she’s a budding Knight. But girls can’t be Knights.”
Mark smiled at her. “That’s wonderful. My baby girl is going to be a Knight. No one needs to bother Justin, then. All you have to do is take something into the Palace and leave it in the main work room. You can do that, can’t you?”
She blinked at him, confused. “Why?”
“To stop the Knights, of course.”
Thinking back, she couldn’t remember Justin saying anything about what the Knights actually did. She only knew it involved Phasms, and he seemed to know plenty about them. “To stop them from doing what? Are you going to hurt them?”
“No, of course not.” Mark beamed at her. “It’s good that you’re concerned about them and their well-being. John, take her home and give her the item.”
“As you wish,” Avery said with a bow. “Come on, Claire, let’s get you home.” He set a heavy hand on her shoulder.
“But…” She threw her arms around her father’s misty neck and hugged him. “I want to stay here with you, Daddy.”
“I’m sorry, Claire.” Mark pried her hands loose and nudged her away with a sad smile. “You can’t. After the Knights are stopped, you can come stay with me, but not until then. For now, you have to wait for your power to grow until you can reach the Palace.”
Her eyes burned with tears as Avery tightened his grip and dragged her away. “You left me all alone, Daddy. In the dark, with nothing but a stupid locket!”
She swore she saw her father’s face furrow with confusion as Avery shut the door. “Wait,” she begged.
Avery held her at bay with ease for two seconds, then he opened the door again to reveal the brightly lit police station hallway. He walked out without a backward glance.
Hugging herself, she crumpled to the floor. If this room could take her to her father, she had no reason to leave. All this time, he’d been in that strange, dark place. Had the Knights trapped him there? Justin had said he’d met Mark a few times. Did he mean he’d thrown her father into a dark pit for some reason?
“Claire.” Avery crouched beside her and murmured close to her ear. “Get up and get moving, or we’ll see how far I can push his orders not to harm you.”
She sniffled. So many things confused her right now, but not this. If he said he’d hurt her, he meant he’d hurt her. She wiped her face and followed him out.
Chapter 14
Justin
Leaning against the wall outside Kurt’s room in the Palace, Justin stared at the flowered hat in his hands. Kurt’s last breath had rattled out while Justin held his hand, then the illusion had unraveled. Now Kurt would be a Phasm someplace, probably in Portland. One duty taken away, another one added.
He’d do better with Kurt than he had with Mark. Two years ago, he’d lost track of Mark’s Phasm and had no idea what had happened to it. Kurt hadn’t been worried. Phasms don’t get corrupted that often, he’d said. Justin remembered Kurt taking him to a stone cathedral in the city, one that had stood for a hundred years.
~*~
They walked into the church with Justin gawking like an idiot. His mother used to take him to church. She’d said she felt safe there but Justin never felt anything other than trapped inside that tiny, cramped hovel. This place, though, had a forty foot ceiling, stained glass windows, and warm honey-hued wood pews. Heavenly voices filled the air with a solemn hymn.
Once he crossed the threshold, he felt…something. This place had peace, a commodity in short supply in his life. The cathedral wanted him to be calm, content, and warm. That feeling reminded him of his mother too. As much as she’d been his safe haven, though, it had always been an illusion. His father had made certain of that.
“Men built this place with their hands,” Kurt said, his voice hushed. “Phasms built this place too. I know you’re really young to be thinking about your own death, but you need to know this stuff.” He nodded to a pew near the back and set his aging bones on the seat.
Despite not wanting to linger, Justin dropped down beside him. Uncomfortable and trying to push away memories, he shut his eyes and rubbed them.
“When we die—Knights, I mean—we don’t fully shu
ffle off like regular people. Every one of us creates a Phasm. It’s an echo, a memory. An imitation made of mist. A ghost. Most of the time, a Phasm drifts around between places that were important in its life: home, school, work, maybe the graves of people it loved, that kind of thing. It never really catches on anything and eventually finds a place it can rest.” Kurt held out his hands to show he meant the church.
“Houses of worship attract them, for some reason. They wind up in a place like this, and they settle. The longer they stay settled, the less recognizable they are. Eventually, they fade away until they’re part of it and no longer separate. That’s where this feeling comes from. Knights want to protect people. We keep wanting that even when we’re dead.
“There’s another thing that can happen to Phasms. When they’re drifting, they can catch on something. Maybe it’s a violent death, or a car crash, or a guy beating his wife.”
Justin flinched, the wounds of his past still too raw to ignore.
Kurt either didn’t notice or chose to ignore it. He already knew the worst parts. “They get fixated on that thing, and it keeps them from latching on to something harmless and fading. Instead, they get what we call ‘corrupted.’ They keep enough wits to come up with wild theories about how Knights are evil or destroying the world and eventually spawn their own domains, like the Palace, only specific to them. They see old friends as enemies and people they loved become distant tools.”
“Sounds like we can be real dicks after death.”
“Yeah. That’s why living Knights hunt them down and forcibly dissipate them. I’ve handled several in my time. The last one was about two years ago. That’s really the whole reason you have a sword, boy. That and the ne- and ur-phasms. The urs are little puffs of a Phasm’s will, ones that find harmless looking animals and take them over. I don’t know if cats and dogs have souls, but if they do, it gets booted out when an ur-phasm takes over. You can kill them without worrying about animal cruelty. And you’ll be able to tell, because you’ll understand them when they talk. The ne-phasms are even nastier, because they’ve tasted human essence and want more.”
Up to now, the job hadn’t sounded so bad, even with Tariel sassing him at every turn. This, though, confused him. “Why are there even Knights in the first place? It sounds like our whole purpose is to protect people from ourselves.”
“I don’t know, boy. Maybe someone at the beginning knew, but they didn’t write it down or tell anyone.” Kurt shrugged and looked around. The choir had stopped, and the cathedral filled with the sounds of their feet as the boys trooped away from the altar and through an ornate wooden door in the front of the building. “You hungry? I could go for some barbecue right about now.”
~*~
Justin smirked. The old man had let his nose and belly lead him until he tripped and broke a hip. Then he’d withered away, unable to get up and about anymore. This stupid hat; Justin never should have stolen it. Without the hat, Kurt could’ve lived another few years. Then he remembered the smile on Kurt’s face when he saw it and the love he’d put into crafting that illusion. In Kurt’s place, he suspected he’d have done the same for Marie.
“Ah. I’m too late.”
He looked up to see one of Kurt’s friends approaching. The Jamaican elder Knight spent little time here, and Justin knew him only in passing. “Yeah. Sorry.”
Rondy sighed and echoed Justin’s pose against the opposite wall. “It’s always hard to lose your mentor.” He gripped Justin’s shoulder and squeezed it. “If you ever need anything, just ask.”
“Thanks.” He mustered a somber smile and headed to the stairs. Rondy needed time to mourn too, and Justin had a family and an apprentice to take care of.
Chapter 15
Claire
Claire lay on the soft pink floral sheets of her bed, clutching her stuffed white unicorn to her chest. It smelled of lavender and strawberry, a combination of Mom’s soap and Claire’s shampoo. Nothing else ever had that peculiar scent combination. She glanced at her corkboard closet door and noticed Brittney’s latest letter pinned up alongside pictures from summer camp, a calendar flipped to September, and her own work from art class.
Mom had, yet again, turned down her request for an email address so she could send messages to Brittney. The other girl lived in Salem, much too far away to go see. Claire’s half-finished return letter sat on her white desk with a sparkly purple pen lying across it. Now seemed like a good time to tell Brittney about the thing that had happened at school today.
She crossed the room, her toes sinking into the plush white carpet, and sat at her desk. The second her pen touched the paper, Tyler burst in, holding his blue plush airplane as high as his small arm could reach, providing engine noises with his mouth, and careening through her room. His interruption startled her, and she accidentally drew a long line across the page.
“Tyler,” she groaned. “Get out of my room!”
He stuck his tongue out at her and ducked under her hand as she reached out to grab the airplane.
“Mom!” Claire jumped up and chased him out. “Make Tyler stay out of my room!”
“Can’t catch me,” he taunted between giggles.
“Oh yes I can!” Claire ran after him, tossing the unicorn aside. She chased him down the stairs and through the family room where her parents sat on the couch, curled up together and watching TV.
“Hey,” Dad barked, “no running in the house! Take it outside.”
Tyler skidded to a stop at the back door and yanked it open. Claire watched him run outside and stopped to stare at her parents. Both wore sweats and socks, usual attire for a lazy fall Saturday. Mom had her wavy black hair up in a ponytail. Dad hadn’t bothered to comb his dark brown hair or to shave. The sight of them made her eyes burn.
No, that stinging was caused by the smoke billowing in through the open door. She coughed, and a wave of blistering heat rolled over her.
Her eyes snapped open, and she sucked in a lungful of pine-scented air. She’d fallen asleep in the back seat of Avery’s car. The view out the window confused her. He shouldn’t have needed to take the freeway to get her from the police station to her group home. “Where are we?”
She saw Avery look at her through the rearview mirror. “I’m taking you home.”
“Are you taking the scenic route?”
“No.”
She rubbed her eyes, thinking maybe the nightmare had scrambled her brains. “I don’t understand.”
“What’s not to understand? I’m taking you home.”
“Are you lost?”
“No.” He snorted. “I drive this every day. Traffic is always crappy like this.”
“Why do you drive to my foster home every day?”
He snorted again. “I’m taking you to my home, Claire, not yours.”
“Oh.” She leaned against the window, watching the scenery ooze past. Her father had only said “home” without specifying whose. She’d spend tonight locked up in a house with him. The meeting with her father ran through her mind and she realized this could last a lot longer than one night. Avery would keep her at his place until she mysteriously found her way to the Palace.
She wanted to find Justin. First, she needed to apologize for freaking out when he’d killed that cat. Second, she needed to know where he stood on the subject of “corrupting the land,” whatever that meant. He might not really understand the Knights’ purpose and goals. The guy couldn’t have been doing it for long, so he might not have gotten inducted into the super-secret level of the group where they obviously would explain all that.
Avery left the freeway and drove into a dumpy apartment complex near the exit. For some reason, she’d expected him to have a big, fancy house with a manicured yard, in an upscale neighborhood. Brian seemed as though he’d live in a place like that. Avery parked in an underground garage and hauled her to the bare concrete stairs. They climbed up three flights, then he tossed her inside number twenty-seven.
Every surface was
beige, white, or tan. He had a cheap plastic table and chairs, no dishwasher, and a ratty old couch opposite a big, boxy TV on stacked milk crates. Nothing was out of place, no mess had been left to fester. He kept his apartment simple and unadorned with no pictures or posters on the walls or table.
“Brian lives here?”
“No.” His nostrils flared and his grip on her arm tightened. “He lives with his mother and little brother.”
“Oh.” Not wanting to anger him more, she dropped her gaze to the floor. “Sorry.”
He grumbled without words and shoved her aside. “You can sleep on the couch.”
She stumbled into the wall and rubbed her arm, expecting to have a hand-shaped bruise later. “Can I have my backpack?”
Scowling, he rolled his eyes. “It’s in the trunk. Stay here and don’t do anything stupid.” He stalked out and slammed the door.
Blinking in surprise that he hadn’t handcuffed her to something, she stared at the door. She could go walk right out the front door. And be completely lost, because she had no idea where this apartment complex was. Even if she found a bus stop nearby, she had no money to pay the fare. Her bus pass sat in the bottom of the very backpack she now waited for him to bring up.
Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad here. She’d stayed in group homes where the foster parents hated kids. So long as everyone stayed quiet and did their homework and went to bed on time, everything was fine. The one she’d just moved into seemed like that. Avery was probably that kind of guy too.
She still wanted to talk to Justin without Avery around. Maybe she could sneak out in the middle of the night or get away from him tomorrow sometime. Or, she mused as she sank down to sit on his unexpectedly comfortable couch, she could try asking. “Hey, Avery,” she asked the empty room with a smirk, “is it okay if I go out and wander around until I happen to bump into Justin?” Yeah, that would go over well.
Avery returned with her backpack, his brow climbing when he saw her sitting there. Maybe he’d expected her to run off. He dropped her pack onto the couch and crossed his arms. “You’re probably hungry. Pizza or Chinese?”