Fire and Fantasy: A Limited Edition Collection of Urban and Epic Fantasy

by CK Dawn

  “Dude! I couldn’t even remember to stun it then shun it. And, the orb, the uh--delvir Professor Kapoi threw me, looked more like an amoeba in my hands than a sphere. It was too difficult to control. It zapped me and disappeared, but not before it flung me into a wall,” Malcolm said holding his injured wrist.

  “Sorry, Malcolm, you’ll get it next time. I almost failed too,” Abbey lied.

  Bane held the door open for the young group. “Better luck next time, kid,” he said with his deep, raspy Russian accent. The hunter was so tall the group exited the virtual chamber under his outstretched arm.

  “Oh, no! No, no, no, no,” Malcolm waved his hand frantically. “That was the last training exercise for me, I’m not cut out for hunting. I’m an archivist. Books, relics, and history. Yep, that’s the place for me,” he replied as his voice faded down the dimly lit hall.

  The dank hallway was a stark contrast to the virtual chamber. Its rough cut masonry walls were pierced with ancient wrought iron gaslights that had been retrofitted with modern day LEDs, highlighting the stone’s texture and pattern. Passing the wall of glass that held one of the Swords of Twelve like a museum artifact, Abbey and Lourdie smiled at each other. They knew Malcolm wasn’t cut out for hunter trials, but respected him for volunteering for the training. They were glad to have a dedicated archivist like Malcolm preserving the Court’s history and secrets.

  “Wanna grab an iced coffee before we head to Marcus’s office? That new place just opened up down the street,” Abbey asked her mentor as she traced the glass with her fingers. The young apprentice never tired of admiring the ancient sword and scabbard from the original Knights of the Round Table. She hadn’t grown up in the King’s Court like Lourdie and most guardians had-- knowing the truth about their history from the time they could talk. The docile legends and fanciful stories of King Arthur still enamored her.

  “You know I can never say no to any kind of coffee. Let’s make it after quick showers though,” Lourdie said as she pushed the thumb print button of the subterranean elevator. “This sewer stench has been on us for over nine hours and I want it off right now.” The retinal scan then hummed and dinged as it verified their access and the elevator doors opened.

  “So...” Abbey said fishing for clues. “What do you think my final trial will be? Multiple netherwalkers in all different forms, like some still as shadowskins hiding in the dark while other krims attack me? Another survival week in a virtual desert with a netherwalker fight when I least expect it? Ooh, I know! It’s going to be like the Kobayashi Maru with a no-win scenario.”

  Lourdie giggled at Abbey’s enthusiasm, “Even if I knew, you know I can’t tell you, but I do know you will ace it just like all your other trials. Abbey, you’ve got this in the bag. Just remember your first reaction will most likely be the right decision. After that it could be the netherwalker manipulating you.” Lourdie laughed again, “And, honestly, I never thought a fourteen year old would appreciate Star Trek as much as I do.” Lourdie gave Abby a sly smirk, “Kobayashi Maru, huh? Where do you think they got their idea for the holodeck anyway?”

  Abbey’s mouth formed a perfect O, “No way!”

  The elevator started its slow ascent up the four levels before reaching the ground floor. It couldn’t be accessed by the main level, however. For security reasons, the subterranean elevator bypassed the street level and went straight up to the sixth floor where Lourdie’s apartment was, along with the best view of Central Park right across the street. The six story building had been built by the King’s Court in 1917, along with the four hidden underground levels. As far as the outside world knew, the Vaughan Building housed 1.9 million dollar apartments that never went on the market. It served a distinct purpose though, considering most of the local netherwalker sightings were in Central Park or the nearby subway station. The stealthiest and cleverest of shadowskins that were able to venture beyond the park were the ones she took the most pleasure in banishing. For a natural born hunter like Abbey, they were the ultimate challenge.

  Through the elevator’s window of glass the view changed from the damp stone and metal of the underground facility to a bustling city street and finally an aerial view of the lush park below. Eight hundred acres of natural land sitting in the middle of an urban jungle of over nine million people looked odd to her now. Abbey snickered when she thought about how obvious it all was since she had taken her gloaming bond in Central Park, the Chiarshadrin they guarded. Most humans, whom her fellow guardians called dociles, had a natural aversion to Chiarshadrins, the areas where the veil between worlds was thinnest. So the idea that an entire city grew up around one was still humorous to her. Most humans couldn’t see netherwalkers. But, some lost Camelot descendants, called neophytes, could still sense out of place shadows or would get a ‘someone is walking on my grave’ feeling when a netherwalker was near.

  The New York branch of the King’s Court, put in place in the late 1600’s, was in its infancy compared to those in Europe and Asia. But, with hunters like Lourdes Reese and neophytes-turned-guardians that had found their way home like Abigail Thorne, it had quickly become the earth’s best defense against the Netherworld.

  Lourdie and Abbey stepped into the office of Marcus Vaughan, knight of the King’s Court of New York. His large, modern penthouse had wall to wall windows overlooking Central Park.

  Marcus was on his phone looking down at the changing colors of the trees. Pacing back and forth, like a worried parent, he listened to the caller’s information intently. The thirty-two year old knight’s tailored dark navy Armani suit and crisp white shirt were impeccable as always. Today he was sporting a deep purple silk tie and matching pocket square. The colors highlighted the salt and pepper that was beginning to appear in his jet black hair. Lourdie thought this is what James Bond would look like if he traded in his gun and license to kill for an affinity for history and a Master’s Degree in Library Science.

  Everything in the knight’s office was methodically organized and arranged just so. Very old historical documents and artifacts mingled with lead crystal cigar ashtrays and decanters. Each piece in the man’s possession was a trophy on display. A speck of dust would tremble in fear if it ever breached the office’s threshold, knowing it had mere seconds before meeting its impending doom.

  Abbey placed a black coffee and napkin on Marcus’s mahogany desk with a smile and took a seat in one of the firm black leather chairs facing Marcus’s desk.

  Standing at his usual post with his arms crossed, Lourdie handed Bane a green tea latte. No one ever really saw him eat or say anything, but the man loved him some green tea latte.

  “Thanks, Reese,” Bane said in his heavily accented baritone voice.

  The tea’s color always conjured thoughts of the Hulk, as did Bane’s size and temperament. She mentally chuckled as she thought to herself Hulk speak. “Anything for my favorite wall,” Lourdie said with a smirk. He looked at her with his face stoic, but she thought she detected a brief glimmer in the Russian’s eye. Vaughan’s second in command was wearing his usual hunting attire, a black lambskin blazer, black t-shirt, dark denim jeans, and cowboy boots.

  Marcus hung up his phone. “Well, there’s no sense in waiting for Malcolm. His wrist is broken.” As he sat down at his desk he held up his hand to quiet Abbey’s relentless questions that threatened to follow. “The doctor assured me he will be fine. His parents said you can see him later today.” Marcus chuckled, “And, he’s still up for more training. Archivist attunement or no, he is as determined as any of my best hunters.” He took a sip of his coffee, “Ugh! What is this?”

  Abbey jumped out of her seat. “Sorry, I think that’s mine. I uh...like a little coffee with my cream and sugar,” she said and handed Marcus the right cup.

  “Mm, that’s much better. Thank you, Abbey. Now where was I? Oh, yes. Reese, Thorne, you’re going to Porthleven. Abbey, your last hunter trial will be there. I hope you are prepared, it could come at any time so be ready for anything,” he
turned to Lourdie, looking almost uncomfortable. “Lourdie, some high ranking court members have requested that you attempt to train other hunters your unique dual delvir ability. So, the timing is perfect,” Marcus took an evasive sip of coffee and waited for their reaction.

  Lourdie felt a lump in her throat and her stomach lurched. She suspected he was making light of a more serious situation and she wanted answers. Before she could ask any questions, Abbey exploded with questions of her own, “OMG! When do we leave? How long can we stay? Can I go shopping in London? Ooh, will we have time to kiss the Blarney Stone? Please, oh please? Wait!” Abbey stopped dead in her tracks. “We’re going to Porthleven? To Castle Clogyn? So we’re going to meet Lancelot’s descendant? The Lancelot! Oh my God, oh my God!” Abbey squealed, nearly jumping out of her skin.

  Marcus tried to keep up with her questions, though his responses were terse, “Next month. That hasn’t been determined yet. You are allotted some free time. And, yes, you’ll meet him. The King’s Court in Britain is quite large and Logan Templeton is a very busy man,” he cleared his throat. “I trust you two will be on your best behavior and represent my court in a mature manner?” he said, looking from Abbey to Lourdie.

  A split second of hurt and confusion crossed Lourdie’s face, but she knew now was not the time to question his decisions. She mentally shook her head and took on her trainer tone. “Of course we will. Thorne, focus. And, seriously, no more coffee,” Lourdie said while absentmindedly sipping her own iced coffee and giving Marcus a look.

  Abbey whipped her head back to the knight. “Right. Sorry, Marcus. I’ll make you proud. I got a little excited. I’m so pumped up about my trial. Oh! And I had some coffee. It’s probably the sugar. Yeah, definitely the caffeine and sugar,” Abbey stopped to take a breath and finally appeared to heed her mentor’s warning. “I won’t let you down,” she said instantly in a calmer, quieter voice.

  Lourdie tried to keep the bewildered look off her face. She had so many questions, but knew her apprentice was watching. She was also angry that this public meeting was the first she herself was hearing about the upcoming assignment.

  “Abbey, you could never let me down.” Marcus let out a quiet sigh, “With your extraordinary hunting skills I sometimes forget you’re only fourteen. Anyway, you will be attending our Vicereine Trista Gilroy’s youngest brother’s gloaming bond on the blue moon, but I’m sure you'll have a little time to take in the sights before then.” Marcus sipped his coffee again.

  As if on cue at Marcus’s mention of the blue moon, Lourdie insubordinately gave Abbey a sideways smirk and a sly wink. The rebel in her wanted to defy the knight, even if the timing and location of Abbey’s last hunter trial was an educated guess.

  Abbey took in a silent gasp. She was obviously wondering if her mentor had just hinted that her last trial would be during the blue moon and thinking that it had to have been a covert clue. Blue moons only occurred about once every three years after all. Abbey winked back.

  “So, while you're there have a little fun, okay?” Marcus said, waving Kapoi into his office. “Now ladies, if you'll excuse me, I need to finalize your jet’s preparations and inform Abbey’s professors of her upcoming absence.”

  Lourdie’s frustration got the best of her as she and Abbey walked toward the door. “So, there’s nothing else?”

  Marcus looked up from some papers lying on his desk. “I said all I needed to say.” His words were cold. But, his eyes were softer, tinged with a slight sadness.

  For the time being Lourdie decided to let her questions remain unanswered. She would confront Marcus later, alone.

  “Want to get a little shopping in before you go on duty tonight?” Abbey asked eagerly.

  “Hmm, what?” Lourdie said, trapped in her own thoughts. “Shopping? I thought we were going shopping in London?” She halfheartedly chuckled as they walked down the hall away from Marcus’s office. “And, I’m serious, no more coffee. It will stunt your growth. I don’t know what I was thinking letting you get any in the first place.” She sighed and bumped into Abbey in the easy playful way they had with each other.

  “I know, I’m sorry. I should have stopped at one cup, but I think it was mostly the trial though. It was intense.” Abbey gave Lourdie a devious smirk. “You know.....if I had my own stun baton like yours we would be unbeatable.”

  “And, you know I’ve told you a hundred times you’re not ready for that type of weapon. You’ve got to slow down a little bit, kid. Save something for when you’re actually a hunter. Even the most seasoned hunters clock hundreds of hours of training to be able to use a stun baton,” Lourdie paused. “I tell you what, when we get back from our trip I’ll set up some weapon training time for us in the virtual chamber,” she held up her hand in anticipation of squeals and more questions, “If you stop asking for a stun baton. Deal?”

  “Deal!” Abbey bounced down the hall. “So, where did you want to go first? Saks, Bloomie’s? I’m thinking I want a new look before we go to Europe.”

  “Rain check on the shopping? I’ve got a little work I want to finish on those silent stingers I’ve been experimenting with before my patrol starts.” Her apprentice quirked her head questioningly so she continued. “You know, the throwing stars that I designed to stun krims? Right now I’m working on getting them to only light up on impact. And there’s no stun to them yet,” Lourdie said reaching her apartment door.

  “Oh, yeah. So, I know you will name them. You name all your weapons. Let’s have it.” Abbey opened her eyes wide in anticipation. She crossed her arms and began tapping her foot.

  “Reese’s Pieces.” Lourdie grinned from ear to ear. Both girls started laughing.

  “Oh my God, I love it. It so goes with your stun baton, Buttercup. Dude! Once you get them working are you going to have them glow purple like Buttercup? Ooh when I get one, will you change the frequency of my stun bah....never mind, forget I said that. We still have a deal. I’ll see you tomorrow after school.” Abbey was so hyper she was jumping out of her skin.

  Lourdie smiled shaking her head, “Good bye, Abs. Go play some WoW until you can see Malcolm, let off some steam.”

  “Ooh, good idea! I’ll go beat up on some horde.” Abbey waved goodbye and bounced down the hall, air boxing as she went.

  Lourdie closed her apartment door and soaked up the peace and quiet. The hunter adored her young apprentice, but the teenager wore her out, and sometimes she just wanted silence. She had to giggle at Abbey’s unending energy, though. It was definitely a good distraction from the questions that were nagging at her: like, why were they being sent so far away, why now, and at whose request? Pulling her hair loose from its ponytail she scratched her scalp trying to make sense of it all. Shaking her head, she shrugged and decided to start her evening ritual. She tapped the icon on her tablet switching the smart glass of her floor to ceiling windows from opaque to clear, exposing a spectacular view of Central Park below. Next, she touched the image for her 60” flat screen TV and turned the channel to world news.

  The Court’s scrapers covered up virtually all netherwalker activity around the world through hacking, elaborate ruses, and such before any exposure occurred. She was amused by the occasional news coverage, however, simply knowing what to look for. Another tap on the pad and her fireplace roared to life, then she went into the kitchen to start a pot of coffee in a truly antique coffee kettle. True, she could get a fancy coffee maker and program it to her tablet, but she felt there were some things you just didn’t mess with. In some ways Lourdie felt like the Vaughan Building, an old soul surrounded by the latest technology and gadgets on the market. Thanks to her father, the engineer, she loved taking apart and modifying the latest high tech guardian equipment and weapons, but she felt most at ease with the simpler things in life. An old musty novel, a hot cup of coffee, and a quiet corner in their chaotic world was her idea of heaven.

  While her coffee brewed she relished in some of her favorite yoga poses. Abbey’s nine hour trial had
been grueling. The hunter stretched her long lean five foot nine frame and took in several deep cleansing breaths until she felt as one with her surroundings. Lourdie was only twenty-two, but sometimes she felt old, really old. She shook off the feeling and let her thoughts rush out of her head in downward dog.

  Fresh from her shower, Lourdie poured herself a cup of coffee and added her favorite creamer, caramel macchiato. Savoring each sweet sip she relaxed into its aroma.

  Never one for much primping, the hunter toweled off the excess water from her hair and decided to let the long chocolate locks dry into soft waves. Dropping her other towel from her body, she walked into her expansive closet and threw on an oversized soft grey t-shirt, boy shorts, and long scrunchy white socks that went up to her knees.

  Most of her wardrobe followed a simple philosophy; their form followed the function they served. She preferred no fuss or frills, just tops and pants that were comfortable with free range of motion and extra pockets. Ironically, Victoria’s Secret had the best cargo pants Lourdie had ever found. Abbey never got tired of teasing her about being the only one that could find ‘sexy’ cargo pants.

  Walking over and opening a set of drawers she smiled down at her favorite hunting gear, “Hello, old friend.”

  The black leather jacket was soft and supple in her hands as she pulled it from its summer resting place. Lourdie loved when the weather got cold enough to wear it. The old jacket fit her like a second skin and had raised torso armor stitched into it, contouring and protecting every curve. Along with her silky Kevlar under armor, ‘sexy’ black cargos, and well-worn Gore-Tex and black suede hiking boots, Lourdie placed the jacket on her bed next to her hip hugging utility belt and headed back to her kitchen.

  She felt like a big oaf in her baggy t-shirt and socks, but she didn’t care. Her patrol wasn’t for another couple of hours, she lived alone, and the ensemble was super cozy. Most of her colleagues would describe her as confident, athletic, and driven, but it was Abbey’s new description, although Lourdie couldn’t see it herself, that was the most amusing. ‘Dude, you ooze strong feminine sexual energy when you walk into a room. I can’t wait to grow up!’