by Lee French
The room had a metal desk surrounded by filing cabinets, plus files stacked on the desk. It had no personal items, not even a single picture. Nothing but files, files, and more files. Claire shut the door behind them and frowned. “Jeez. How do we even start looking?” She noticed Justin’s sword in its sheath behind the door and picked it up. He’d need that.
“He’s probably got a system.” Drew went to the desk and picked up the top file of a stack. “Hey, this one is for that weird theft at the Historical Society museum. It has a picture of Justin.”
“Yeah.” Claire scanned the room. Seeing no labels, she picked a drawer at random and slid it open.
“What are we looking for?”
“Anything else with Justin in it.” She ran her fingers across the files, finding each had been labeled a single word and a date. These dates were all from ten to fifteen years ago. Dismissing that drawer, she moved to another one and flipped a finger across the dates. Nothing of interest.
On her sixth drawer, she stopped at a folder marked “Terdan” with the date her family’s house had burned down. Finding it here surprised and stunned her. Her first social worker had told her the insurance company classified the fire as an accident and set up a trust for the payout that she’d get access to when she turned eighteen. Why would a cop have a file for an accidental fire? She pulled it out, opened it up, and laid it on the desk. Drew, with two files in hand now, peered over her shoulder as she flipped through the pages.
This file painted a different picture than the one she’d been told. It had a report from an arson investigator and another from a crime scene investigator. Concerned that Avery might return at any moment, Claire skimmed the notes and documentation until she found summaries of their findings. Both declared the fire “most likely” to be arson. She brushed her finger across the signatures, feeling the indentations from a ballpoint pen that meant these must be originals.
Underneath those, she found photocopies of reports from the same two names, both also signed. These two reports had completely different data and notes, and the summaries indicated the fire had been an accident. More pages below it turned out to be handwritten notes. Her eyes picked out the word “Knight” several times, then she noticed the word “Phasm.”
Drew touched her shoulder. “Why would he have the reports faked?”
The more she read, the more she furrowed her brow. Justin hadn’t explained enough about Knights and Phasms yet for any of this information to make sense. “I don’t know. I think so he didn’t have to suppress how the fire really started. I could be wrong, because his handwriting is a kinda crappy, but I think he thought a Phasm killed my dad.”
“A what?”
“I’ll explain later.”
“Okay.” He put an arm around her to show her the file he’d found. “It looks like he’s been building a file against Justin for a while. There’s notes from stuff in Salem, Olympia, Seattle, Eugene, and another thing in Portland. Dates on his notes show he’s been putting it together for about two and a half years. He doesn’t have a last name or any idea where to find him, so he hasn’t picked him up yet. Not sure why he didn’t just enter Justin’s picture in the system and let the other cops find him.”
She flipped through the file, which had few official papers of any kind and only two pictures of Justin. “Not enough evidence, probably. Besides, he wanted me to do something specific, and I bet he wanted Justin to do it first. So he builds up a case, then arrests Justin and says he’ll make that all go away if Justin just does what he wants. I wonder if he’s trying the same thing right now, or if he’s got all his hopes pinned on me already.”
“What a whackjob.”
“Yeah. I guess maybe he wasn’t always one, since he had a wife and all. Justin called him ‘tainted.’ I wonder if someone can be un-tainted.” She wondered more if a Phasm could be un-corrupted.
“We should probably get out of here.” Drew snatched both folders away and tucked them under his shirt.
“Yeah.”
Chapter 26
Justin
By the time other cops waded in to stop the fight, Claire had disappeared. Justin kept as much of a hold on Avery as he could for as long as he could, to keep him busy. Hands pried them apart, and he felt a line of hot blood dribbling out of his nose. To his satisfaction, Avery doubled over, clutching his gut and panting.
So much for trying to convince Avery to return to the Knights. It had been worth it, though, to give Claire a chance to get free. Later, he’d tell her how proud he was of her for thinking of him, even if her plan had been stupid, incomplete, and fraught with far too much danger for her own good. He spat in the vicinity of Avery’s shoe, missing by an inch or two.
“Get them both to the infirmary,” someone barked.
In the infirmary, he stood a chance of getting himself free in a much simpler way than the one he’d have to use in a jail cell. Justin went limp and considered the best place to fake an injury that would get his hands loose. He groaned and curled around his wrist.
“I’m fine,” Avery growled. “Watch him.”
“Just let them check you over, Detective,” someone said. “You’re bleeding.”
Two large men picked Justin up and shoved him around until they reached a first aid suite. It had everything necessary to deal with minor injuries, including a woman in a lab coat. One cop thumped him in the chest to make him sit on the gurney.
“I think my wrist is broken,” he whimpered.
Avery glared at him. “He’s lying.” Another cop had helped him shamble down the hall and set him in a chair. “Faking it.”
“We’ll see.” The woman in the lab coat waved at the handcuffs, and one cop unlocked them.
With his hand now free, Justin surged to his feet and slapped the doctor so hard her whole body twisted. He dropped a shoulder and shoved it into the cop’s belly, managing to catch his solar plexus with the blow. The cop dropped to the floor, wheezing, and Justin grabbed his keys.
“See? Faking.” Avery leaned forward, a palm pressed to his head.
Keys in hand, Justin punched another cop in the face while the third pulled his gun. He ducked behind the woman and wrapped an arm around her neck.
She slammed a syringe into his thigh. “You guys are all the same,” she said with a disgusted sigh. Her thumb jammed the plunger down, filling his leg with numb heat.
As much as he hated to do it in front of normal people, Justin took a deep breath and called on the bond he shared with Tariel. The woman crossed her arms and waited for the drug to take effect. Disappointing her would make his day, but seeing Avery doing the same thing with his sprite ruined the feeling. Regardless, Tariel’s peculiar brand of power washed over him, burning away the drug and all his pain. He tightened his grip and circled around to put the woman between him and both the gun and Avery.
“You’re not going to get away,” Avery growled.
“I’m willing to risk it.” Justin dragged the doctor out of the triage clinic with the cop and Avery echoing his every step down the hallway. His sword would help a lot right now. So would his horse. He backed through a fire door, kicked it shut, and shoved the woman against it. With only one hand free, he had to use his body to hold her there as he unlocked his other hand and the chain around his waist. Thumping on the door told him he needed to hurry.
The woman watched him over her shoulder, eyes wide with frightened wonder. “How did you shrug that shot off?”
“Magic. I swear this is nothing personal, and I sincerely hope you’ll be fine.” He punched her in the back of the head, hard enough that she clonked into the door, then passed out. Hopefully, she’d wake up in a few minutes.
The pounding on the door stopped, and he suspected they knew a way to circle around behind him. He unlocked the chains on his feet and shucked them. Shoving the woman out of the way, he opened the door again and ran to a stairwell he’d seen on the way here. He hurtled up it, knocking someone aside, then burst out on the ground f
loor, where he saw Tariel taking up half the lobby with no Claire or Drew in sight.
Claire had had the option to walk out the front door and didn’t take it. She had to be wandering around inside the police station someplace, which meant Avery would find her. He scowled, turned on his heel, and marched back into the bowels of the building. He headed for Avery’s office, a place he hadn’t visited in years.
He tossed the stairwell door open on the third floor and stepped out as Avery walked out of the elevator. They each changed direction to intercept the other. Justin threw a punch; Avery ducked and threw his own. Justin caught him with a foot to the knee; Avery slammed him into a wall hard enough to dent it. While Justin recovered, Avery threw a fist into his gut, and he stumbled back.
This fight, he reflected, would be much easier with his armor. Avery had too much more skill and experience, and the cop would win if he couldn’t find some advantage. Justin blocked a kick with his forearm, then he charged Avery, jamming his shoulder into the other man’s chest and sending him tumbling over a desk.
“Justin!”
He snapped his head to the side and saw Claire standing in the doorway to Avery’s office, holding his sword. She tossed it. The sword was made from his own will and powered by his connection to the Palace. Though he couldn’t make it appear in his hand from anywhere, he could catch it by the hilt without looking. Swinging the silvery blade around, he took a defensive stance and watched Avery clamber back to his feet. Avery’s eyes darted to Claire, and Justin sidestepped to put himself between them.
“Claire, could you lock yourself in his office for a minute, please?”
“Uh, sure.”
Avery scowled and raised a baseball bat. “It’s time to settle this.”
“We could sit down and sing Kumbaya instead. Roast some marshmallows together.”
“Or I could beat you to death.”
“That doesn’t sound like fun to me. How about rock-paper-scissors?”
Avery answered by rushing him. The bat worked well enough, though Justin recalled Avery being most comfortable with a gun. It hadn’t been on his hip in the interrogation room, or later in the visitor’s area of the holding cell level. He’d probably left it in his office. Now Justin had him blocked off from that. Thank goodness, because a bullet would kill him without his armor.
The sword hit the bat with a thunk, hacking a small chunk of wood off. Justin gave a foot then took a foot, then pressed forward and was driven back, all the while chipping pieces off the bat with every strike. They ranged in an arc around the office door and Justin worried he’d be worn down before Avery lost the fire in his belly that goaded him to continue.
He’d have to take a chance and hope for the best. With his left hand, he threw a punch at Avery’s head and took a thump to the side from the bat. It hurt, but compared to the crap his father used to do, it was nothing. Emboldened by that thought, he ducked to the side of Avery’s swing, let him smash the bat into his thigh, and punched Avery’s face with the hilt of his sword.
Avery stumbled back, grabbing his nose, and Justin ignored the burning pain in his leg to stick with him, clocking Avery in the neck. The detective crumpled to the floor, and Justin hit him again for good measure.
“Claire!” The space, while clear now, would probably fill up with people soon enough. The office door opened and Claire popped her head out. Grabbing Avery by the hair, he asked her, “Which closet was it?”
Chapter 27
Claire
“Uh.” If she chose to be honest with herself, Claire had to admit she’d expected Justin to lose that fight. The sight of him triumphantly dragging Avery by his hair confused her enough that she stopped and stared.
Drew nudged her. “Are you okay?”
“Oh. Yeah, I, um, it’s that one over there.” She pointed and took two steps toward the closet door before turning around and kissing Drew. He hadn’t yet figured out what to do with his hands when she let go and looked into his eyes. “You did great, but you need to get someplace safe.”
“Huh?” He shook himself. “What about you?”
She wanted to explain that her father waited for her in that closet, but nothing came to mind for how to accomplish that both in few words and without sounding insane. “I have to go in. Get out of here, at least, before someone comes to arrest you.” Hearing the closet door open, she ran for it to make sure Justin didn’t leave her behind. Her shoe stopped him from shutting the door on her, and she darted inside and pulled it closed.
“Claire, this is too dangerous.” He dropped Avery on the floor and rubbed his side.
“There is no way I’m letting you go kill my dad by yourself.”
“He’s not your dad.”
“I know.” She hoped she could still believe that when she looked into his brown eyes. “I need to go. Please let me go.”
Justin sighed and rubbed his face. “This goes against my better judgment.”
She raised an eyebrow. “What do you think your judgment is better than? A tomato, maybe?” When he glared at her, she held up her hands in surrender. “Sorry, sorry. Look, I get that you’re kind of a double whammy of mentor and adoptive dad, and that probably makes you the most protective Knight ever. But I have to do this. I have to face him. It’s important to me. Please?”
He stood, raising to his full six feet and change, and seemed suddenly much more impressive in jeans, work boots, and a T-shirt than he had with the cloak, armor, and horse. The sword in his hand helped. “Keep your head down and eyes open. You matter to me.”
Her belly flushed with warmth and belonging, and she hoped she would never let him down. Words would sully the sentiment, so she nodded and squared her shoulders.
Echoing her nod, he waved her off and gripped the door handle. Later, she’d ask him to explain what he did while he had his back to her. When he opened the door, the darkness rushed them again, and she saw him move his head in quick, sharp jerks to take it all in.
“What’s this? A gift?” Her father’s voice resonated in her chest. It called to her, pulling her to the source.
Justin put out a hand and stopped her. “Gift?”
This place felt warm and safe and more like home than any other she’d ever known. She wanted to curl up and forget everything and everyone else. “I know you need help, Daddy.” She ducked under the obstacle in her way and scurried deeper into the darkness until she found him.
Her father gathered her into his arms and held her. “Welcome to my demesne, Knight.”
“Let her go.”
Claire turned to see that Justin had followed her. “It’s okay.” The words felt right and wrong at the same time. She frowned and pulled away enough to look from one man to the other. Both would protect her. They ought to agree about what to do.
“Claire, remember what I told you.”
She tried to remember where she’d been a minute ago and couldn’t. Her father’s arm held her close and she inhaled, hoping to be soothed by his scent. Instead of the smell she remembered, of cedar, musk, and damp earth, she got nothing.
“There’s no need for a sword here, Knight.” With her ear pressed to her father’s chest, she heard his every word as a rumble in her bones. It made her want to cling and ignore anything that might contradict him.
“I think that’s probably not true. I mean, Avery tried to kill me, and he’s your tainted Knight. As it turns out, I’m not ready to be best pals with anyone whose pet swings a baseball bat at my head.”
“He’s often overzealous in his efforts.”
“Yeah.” Claire’s voice felt distant and breathy, as if her mouth opened and someone else spoke for her. “He can be forgiven.”
“It comes from all his years as a cop, I’m sure,” Justin said. He sounded so sour and hostile.
Behind him, Claire heard Avery groan. He’d be fine soon, then Justin would leave, one way or another. Once he left, Daddy would take care of her. Wait, she didn’t want to be taken care of. Not like that, anyway.
She wanted to have a home, a place full of love, laughter, and light, not a sanitized prison. She wanted to see Drew, and to finish high school. Words could hardly express how much she wanted to have her room in the Palace to retreat to if she needed time to herself.
It hurt to think. She pushed away from her father but his grip tightened. “Daddy, I want to sit.”
“Not now, Pumpkin. Remember that time we went to the park and you wanted to sit in the mud? I stopped you so you wouldn’t get your pretty pink dress dirty.”
“If you remember that, you must remember your house burning down?”
Justin’s even, reasonable voice cut through Claire’s confusion. Her house had burned, and so had her parents. This version of her father held nothing but memories. He had no future, no dreams, no hopes.
“Of course. There was a…” She looked up at her father and saw him frown. His eyes slid down, and he let her go enough to touch the locket under her shirt. “I gave you this.” Tugging at the chain, he lifted it out and let it dangle in the air. The moment he saw the pendant, he let go of Claire and seemed to forget about her.
“An ur-phasm came for me, sent by a corrupted Phasm to taunt me. It took so much from you…” He rubbed his thumb over the filigree and furrowed his brow. “I couldn’t kill it, only drive it away. I don’t remember why. We were at the park? You were so small. I took you to the hospital, and they said you were dying.”
“So you made the locket to save her. It replaced her lost essence with power from the Palace.” Justin spoke softly, his voice gentle and soothing.
“It became a ne-phasm. Kurt and I killed the Phasm, but the ne-phasm got away.”
“And then it came back,” Justin said, “years later, stronger than before, and set your house on fire, hoping to get revenge and the locket in one fell swoop. Kurt had retreated to the Palace by then, so it had only you to focus on. It tried to kill Avery when he figured it out, but instead, you arrived in the middle and sheltered him in return for his fealty.”