A Blade So Black

by L. L. McKinney

“I’ve got nothing but time, if you ever feel like telling it.”

  “You wouldn’t believe me if I did.”

  “At least you would’ve told me. I’m your friend, Alice. You’re supposed to be able to talk to me.” He dropped her hands and stepped over to the fire pit.

  Alice watched his back, the cape billowing behind him. Her fingers curled into fists. They were her friends. Courtney was her best friend, the only person who knew what the hell was going on for real. If she wanted to act like Alice had ever just ditched her, fine. If Chess wanted to feel some type of way, fine. Everyone could be in their feelings; Alice gave no more damns. She was angry and tired and didn’t feel like dealing with these two right now.

  “Can you take me home?”

  Chess glanced up. “Yeah. Lemme say bye to Courtney first.”

  Alice dug into her bag and offered him the card. “Give this to her for me, since she probably doesn’t wanna see my face right now.”

  He hesitated, then took the card with a nod. “See you out front.” He tucked a top hat under his arm, then headed inside.

  * * *

  Neither Alice nor Chess said anything for the first several minutes of the ride. R&B music filled the silence, with him focused on the road and her focused on nothing in particular as she stared out her window. That is, until his hand closed over hers.

  She glanced at him in surprise. He stole a look at her, then back to the road. “Are you okay?”

  No. “I will be.”

  He squeezed her fingers. “Does whatever’s going on have to do with Brionne?”

  “No.” She shook her head, but that wasn’t the whole truth. “Yes? I don’t…”

  “It’s okay.”

  “It’s not!” She didn’t mean to shout. But extra points to Chess for not pulling away. In fact, he squeezed her hand again and stayed silent. She snorted a laugh, though nothing was funny. “It’s not. And yeah, it’s fucked up, things with Brionne. She was just minding her business, wasn’t looking to hurt anyone, just trying to get home from a stupid game, and now she’s dead.”

  Chess turned the music down but didn’t say anything. He pulled over and parked, but left the car running. They sat in silence. Well, the car was silent. Alice’s head was a furor of anger and fear.

  “It could’ve been me,” she finally said. “It could still be me.” Tears slipped down her cheeks. She stared at the dashboard and sniffed, wiping at her face with her free hand.

  “It’s not fair,” Chess murmured.

  “It’s not,” she whimpered around a shuddering breath. “None of it. My mom freaks out every time I don’t answer my phone, ’cause I could be dead in a ditch somewhere. Talkin’ about how I’m all she’s got and she’s afraid to lose me. I used to say she’s just being extra, but now…” Alice shook her head. “She ain’t wrong. It’s as possible as anything else.”

  Chess stroked his thumb over the back of her hand. “I’m sorry.”

  Alice snorted. “You didn’t do anything.” She swiped at her eyes again.

  “I know. I’m still sorry.”

  She shook her head, swallowing to try to ease the tightness in her throat. She really could end up dead somewhere. Almost did trying to tie up loose ends for Hatta. Then got grounded for trying to be a good friend. Then lost her friend anyway for trying to do her job. She sure was trying to do an awful lot of stuff for an awful lot of people and failing spectacularly at it.

  “I’m doing everything right, or trying to, and it can still go all wrong.” I’m protecting the world. Who’d protect me?

  “I would.”

  Alice blinked. “What?”

  “I’d protect you.” Chess held her gaze, his violet eyes soft in the darkness of the car. His thumb kept stroking her hand.

  Her face warmed. She hadn’t realized she’d said that out loud. “How?” Her eyes dropped down to his lips.

  “Whatever way it took.” He bit his lower one.

  A small shiver moved through Alice, and she forced her attention back to his eyes. He leaned toward her. She felt herself pull toward him, too.

  Her phone buzzed so loud it practically screamed.

  Alice’s eyes widened and she drew back, scrambling to get at it.

  You better be on your way.

  “My mom.” She sank down into the seat.

  Chess cleared his throat, letting go of her hand. “Better get you home, then.”

  “Y-yeah.” Oh god, what just happened? Or almost happened!

  Chess pulled back onto the road and they rode the rest of the way in silence. Alice wasn’t sure if she wanted to hurry up and get home or for it to take a while. Before she could make up her mind, they stopped in front of her house.

  “Chess … Thanks. For the ride.”

  He grinned, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Of course.”

  “See you later.” She climbed out of the car and headed for the porch. He waited until she reached her door, then waved before pulling off.

  Alice watched until his taillights turned the corner at the end of the block.

  “Oh god, what the hell was that? What the hell am I doing?” She rubbed her face with both hands. Her and Chess. They almost …

  The thought sent a not-entirely-unpleasant fluttery feeling through her. “So stupid.”

  Her shoes dangling from her fingers, her feet cold from the concrete, Alice pushed into her house, closed the door, and sank back against it. Mom sat on the living room couch in her pajamas, head wrapped, TV off, book in hand.

  “Well, now.” Mom snapped the book shut. Her eyes played over Alice from head to toe. “You look nice.”

  Alice tossed her keys into the cat-shaped dish on a nearby table. “Hey, Ma.”

  “‘Hey, Ma’?” Mom cocked an eyebrow. “Folk gettin’ shot, I don’t hear from my child for over twenty-four hours, and all I get is, ‘hey, Ma’?” She kept her voice even, which was a good sign. But this was a trap. Alice knew it was a trap. No answer would be the right one. But not answering would be the worst.

  “Well?” Mom asked.

  I don’t need this shit right now. “I’m sorry.” It wasn’t an answer, but at least it was something.

  Mom released a slow sigh, then patted the couch beside her.

  Reluctant, Alice schlepped over and flopped down.

  Setting her book aside, Mom angled herself to face Alice. “I know you’re almost grown. Meaning you can almost not answer when I call, and almost not return my texts, for over twenty-four hours. But not yet.”

  Here we go. Alice resisted the urge to massage the ache building in from her temples.

  “I’d hoped you’d still respect me enough to do all that even when you are grown.”

  “I do.” Alice fixed her gaze on the carpet. “I already told you, I put my phone in airplane mode on accident.”

  “Don’t feed me no lines, Alison. You don’t put your phone on airplane mode on actual airplanes, and I’m supposed to believe it happened on accident?” She pressed her lips together, then clicked her tongue. “Sound like something Courtney would say to her momma.”

  “It’s true, though.” It wasn’t, but Alice had nothing else.

  “Okay, say it is. Even still, if this was the first time you didn’t respond for hours, I wouldn’t be sayin’ nothing. It happens more and more lately.” Mom sighed. “You been stayin’ out late, not answering your phone, now not coming home? You know I don’t play that. Especially now.”

  “I know—”

  “A woman lost her daughter one week ago, for no reason. That baby just gone. Then mine is nowhere to be found. How am I supposed to react to that?”

  “I’m sorry,” Alice repeated. “I promise I am.”

  “Then why you tryin’ me?”

  “I’m not! I just…” She took a breath and searched the ceiling before shrugging. “It was this one time. And it was an accident. I’m sorry. I know you’re shook up after what happened to Brionne and everything, but I promise I’m okay. I’m not d
oing nothing, gettin’ in no trouble, just hanging out with my friends and stuff. Can I get a little space, maybe?” Alice hunched her shoulder and put on what she hoped was her best puppy dog face.

  Mom huffed. “Space. Sure. You got space, right up there in that room for two weeks. Keep it up and you’ll spend every spare minute until you’re grown in there. And as far as stuff, is there some pair of legs sniffing around I need to watch out for?”

  “Ma!” That’s what Mom called boys. Legs. Because that made all the sense.

  Mom lifted her hands. “I’m not saying more than what I said, and I can say that. You know the rule: Two things you cannot bring to my door are babies and police.” She pushed up from the couch, took her book, and headed for the kitchen.

  Alice sank into the couch cushions, shaking with the effort not to cry. I give up.

  There was no point in fighting. Mom believed what she believed, and nothing short of the truth would make her believe otherwise. If she would even believe the truth.

  Daddy would. The sudden thought of her father pressed the dam even more. If he was here, he’d at least hear her out. If he was here, she probably wouldn’t be a Dreamwalker, so it wouldn’t matter.

  “I made brownies,” Mom called from the kitchen. “If you aren’t full on cake. Could’ve at least brought me a piece.”

  “I’ll get some later.” Alice bolted to her feet and headed for the stairs. Mentioning food meant the talk was over, for now, and she was free to go. She hurried to her room and closed the door behind her.

  Letting her bag drop from her arm, she flopped face first onto the bed. She didn’t even bother getting out of the costume, just wormed her way under her blanket and pulled it up over her head. The press of paws against her shoulder meant Lewis had come to check on her. She stuck a hand out from her comforter fort and was rewarded with the bump of a furry head against her fingers, letting her scratch his ears.

  “At least I still have one friend.” She drew back the covers, smirking faintly at the cat.

  Lewis sprang up and hissed, hackles raised, before bolting under the bed.

  Alice jumped. “The hell, cat? Make that no friends, you furry jerk.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t say that.”

  Panic bolted through Alice like lightning. She flung the blanket off and sat up, her eyes fixing on the dark figure standing just inside her window.

  The Black Knight waved. “You got me, princess.”

  Ten

  VISITING HOURS ARE OVER

  Alice sat frozen on her bed as the Black Knight lowered himself to the bench in her bay window, a finger lifted to where his lips would be behind his helmet. “Let’s not get Mommy involved, yes? That would be unfortunate.”

  That shook her out of her shock. Anger coiled in her gut, but the panic didn’t wane completely. “Don’t threaten my mother.”

  “I’m not.” He plucked a stuffed tiger from the small stack of old dolls in the corner and started stroking it evil genius–like. “Just suggesting we use our indoor voices. I don’t want to pick a fight. Leastwise not with you.”

  “Funny, I didn’t get that impression last time we met.” A quick glance around the room revealed nothing Alice could use as a weapon. If he came at her again, she’d be defenseless.

  “It’s the helmet. Freaks people out.” He continued stroking the stuffed cat. “You look tense.”

  “I wonder why,” she bit out, fingers twisting in the sheets.

  “Don’t be. I’m here as a friend.” He sat the animal aside and patted its head. “You delivered my message. I appreciate that.” He settled into the corner of the window at a lean, the hilt of his sword visible over his shoulder.

  The sight of it sent a shudder through her. “What do you want?”

  “The Eye. But you know that, so I’m guessing you meant to ask ‘what are you doing here?’” He gestured at her with a flourish. “To visit my favorite Dreamwalker. And thank you for a job well done.”

  “Stop playing games,” she spat between clenched teeth. “I’m not in the mood.”

  “Pity. Games are such fun.” He pushed to his feet, and it took everything in Alice not to recoil. “Seriously, princess, job well done.”

  “Enough with the nicknames!”

  He tilted his head to the side. “You’re dressed like one.”

  “Get out, before I throw you out that window.” Her threat probably didn’t mean much considering he’d whupped her ass already.

  “Ahh. You wound me.” He set his hands against his chest. “Even so, you held up your end of our bargain. That deserves a reward. Brace yourself.”

  Before she could ask what he meant, a flare of agony tore through her stained hand, like something eating it from the inside. She dropped to her side, clutching her wrist. The mark glowed against her skin.

  Hands gripped her shoulders. “Breathe through it.” The Black Knight knelt beside her. She wanted to shake him off but hadn’t regained the control of her body stolen by pain. She couldn’t even scream.

  He drew his sword, touched the edge to her palm. She felt the sensation of tiny fingers peeling back her skin, as the taint swept into the blade, blending with the black. It lasted only a few seconds, but it left her palm clean and her head spinning.

  “It’s almost over. I promise.” He curled his gloved hand over hers.

  Everything twisted in on itself as her vision danced. Her stomach threatened to roll up past her lips as something hooked beneath her knees and she was lifted. She sank into his arms.

  “No,” she gasped. Please.

  He shushed her as the sky poured across her vision, white and blinding. Scorching cold creeping along her limbs. Her heart blasted away at her ribs. The rush of blood howled in her ears.

  She couldn’t move, could barely breathe. The warmth from his arms, his body, was the only thing keeping the cold from consuming her completely. Part of her wished it would. The other part struggled against the darkness creeping at the edges of her vision.

  “That’s it, kitten. Rest now.” His voice washed over her, stealing what little fight she had left.

  Darkness claimed her.

  * * *

  Ehhnn, ehhnn, ehhnn, ehhnn, ehhnn.

  Her head pounding with the echoes of her alarm, Alice cracked her eyes open. Daylight streamed across her bedroom floor, gathered in her mirror, and darted across her ceiling in reflective fractures. The device in question rattled facedown on her nightstand. Fumbling with a couple of pens, she shoved them and a notebook aside to grip and silence the damn thing.

  That’s when last night came rushing back in a flash of darkness and pain. She bolted upright with a shout, whirling to face her empty window. Her chest heaved, her heart drowning in her attempt to take in enough air. She nearly slapped herself jerking her hand up to look at it. The mark was gone. It wasn’t a dream.

  The Black Knight had been here. In. Her. Room.

  The panic from last night slammed into her full force, and she scrambled out of bed and raced for the bathroom, tripping over herself twice in the process. She hadn’t eaten anything in almost two days, but her stomach worked to empty itself anyway. Aching, and with a mouth that tasted of snot and sick, she stumbled over to the sink. The shock of cold water against her skin dissolved the remaining haze of sleep over her brain. She rinsed her mouth out until it stung so bad she couldn’t feel her tongue.

  Shower. She needed a shower.

  After standing under hot water for lord knows how long, throwing some moisturizer in her hair, and pulling on some clothes, she edged back into her bedroom. The space felt … corrupted somehow, the air heavy and oppressive, the light—bright as it was—dimmer.

  That bastard had been in her room.

  Her skin felt like it wanted to crawl right off her. She grabbed her purse and her phone and raced into the hall, slamming the door behind her.

  In her room.

  A shudder rolled through her, and she started down the hall. “Mom?”

  An emp
ty house greeted her. A sliver of fear slithered down her spine.

  Don’t panic. This didn’t mean anything. It was Sunday morning. Mom was probably at church. Why didn’t she wake me?

  Someone had to be dying or dead for Mom to let her miss service.

  Don’t. Panic. Alice checked her mother’s room and bathroom. Empty, save for Carol lounging on the pillows like she wasn’t supposed to. Lewis was curled in a small chair in the corner. No gospel music on the radio, no T.D. Jakes on the TV.

  Alice raced for the stairs. “Mom?” she called, louder this time. The living room was empty, too. So was the kitchen, but a slip of paper rested on the breakfast bar.

  Went to worship without you.

  You were dead sleep, guess you partied hardy.

  Left some breakfast in the oven.

  Going to see Grandma Kingston after service.

  Take that cubed beef out of the freezer no later than 12.

  ♥ you, Baby Moon.

  PS—I asked Mrs. Hughes to keep an eye on things while I’m gone, but call me if you need anything.

  Alice sank onto the nearby stool. Mom was okay. Thank god.

  After Dad died, Grandma Kingston slowly slipped away. Dementia, Alzheimer’s—the doctors couldn’t say what was wrong. Dad was her only child, so now Alice and Mom looked after her. Some days were good days; she was her whip-smart self and knew everything and everyone. Some days were hard days, with Grandma Kingston not so much as acknowledging their existence.

  Shaking her head, Alice shoved the thoughts aside. After last night she wasn’t sure she could keep any food down, but she needed to try. Surprisingly, she smashed the full plate Mom left, loaded up with bacon, eggs, hash browns, sausage, the works. Full, and slightly less nauseous, she called Hatta. No answer. She tried again. Twice. Still nothing. No answer on the pub line, either.

  Pacing the kitchen, Alice argued with herself over the decision to sneak out. On the one hand, something might be wrong, with no one answering the damn phone. And she needed to tell Hatta that Black Knight bastard had been in her room. On the other, everything might be fine. Plus she seemed to be okay—the mark was gone—but that most definitely wouldn’t be the case if Mom came back while she was out. And the Black Knight could show up anytime, anywhere, even on this side of the Veil.