Knight (un)Life - A Black Knight Short Story Collection

by John Hartness

  “I don’t think that was a Polaroid, Jimmy!” My partner yelled back at me. “And stop yelling, I’m standing right here.”

  “Oh, yeah. Sorry.” I dropped to a more normal tone. “Now what?”

  “I think ‘go in and kill the demon and save the baby’ was the general plan. Wasn’t it?” Greg replied.

  “Yeah, but it looks so much meaner in person.” I said, thinking about all those teeth.

  “Scared?” Sabrina teased. “It doesn’t look like it has silver teeth, Jimmy. I think you’ll be okay.”

  “Just because I don’t die from it doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.” I said.

  “Pain heals, chicks dig scars. Glory lasts forever.” Greg said.

  “You’re quoting The Replacements? Now?” I stared at him, the demon forgotten for a second in my shock.

  “Shut up, you love that movie too. Now come on!” With that, he pulled back a fist and threw a punch at the window that I barely caught in time.

  “Hey, you’re supposed to be the smart one, remember?” I said, forcing his hand back to his side.

  “What? We’ve gotta get in there!” He pointed at the demon.

  “Yeah, but let’s not shower the newborns with broken glass. Door’s around the corner.” I said, sprinting to the door marked “Nursery.” I flung the door open just in time to see the demon leap from a bassinet at the nurse, who dropped straight down and crawled away from the monster, shielding the infant with her body. The thing hit a wall and rebounded in a flash of slimy motion, flinging itself at the nurse’s back. I pulled my Glock and put three rounds in the demon’s back, knocking it off course. It landed in another empty bassinet and turned to face me, showing off all four rows of its nasty pointed little teeth.

  “That puny mortal weapon cannot harm The Kunz, fool!” Great, a talking chihuahua-demon. I don’t even like non-demon chihuahuas.

  “Sabrina, get the babies and nurse out of here, Greg and I will deal with this thing!” I yelled, stepping aside to let the others into the room. She nodded agreement and grabbed two babies in nearby cribs and headed back out into the hall. The demon jumped up and scurried along the ceiling faster than any human could track, trying to cut her off at the door. Fortunately for everyone, it had been a long time since Greg or I were human, and we put three more bullets in the thing and knocked it to the floor.

  “This isn’t working, bro.” Greg said under his breath.

  “I noticed.” I said.

  “Got a Plan B?”

  “Always. Help Sabrina get the innocents out of here.” I said, stepping further into the room, keeping my eyes peeled for the monster.

  “What are you gonna do?” Greg asked, grabbing a baby and passing it off to Sabrina.

  “I thought I’d cut it to ribbons with my fairytale sword. You know, go all snicker-snack on its ass.” I drew the fairy queen’s sword with a hiss and was pleased to see that it glowed with a blue aura. Even if it didn’t do any good against the monster, at least I’d look cool getting my butt kicked.

  I took another step into the room and heard a whisper of air to my left as the demon broke cover and ran at Greg’s exposed back. He whirled around just in time to see me bring the sword down on the creature’s tail, cutting off the last foot cleanly. The demon stopped so quickly its butt skidded on the tile, and it spun around to glare at me, then look at its tail twitching on the floor and spewing purple-grey blood all over the place.

  “Missing something?” I asked, keeping the blade low and focusing all my attention on the quick little monster. It growled at me, all attempt at conversation forgotten, then sprang out of a crouch, flinging all six claws wide as it flew straight for me. I dropped flat to my back and the demon shot over me, giving me a wicked grin as it went past. It landed perfectly with a clatter of claws, then I heard a shriek from the other side of the room as it locked a set of claws into the left leg of the nurse who had been trying to get past me out the door.

  “Crap.” I muttered, and ran for the thing. It scurried up the nurse’s body and I yelled to her “Throw me the baby!” She did, and I caught the kid on the fly. I dropped it in a nearby crib and closed on the Kunz demon. Without the baby in her hands, the nurse was no longer of any interest to the creature, so it jumped away from her and back to the center of the room. I looked around and saw that Greg and Sabrina had cleared the rest of the babies out of the nursery, so there was only the one child left in danger. The demon realized at the same time that it only had one potential meal left, and we sprang for the crib at the same time. I was a hair faster than the monster, so I grabbed up the newborn and tossed it to Greg just before the demon landed in the bassinet. It sprang at my partner, but I reached out and grabbed the remaining stump of tail and swung it crashing into the window, cracking the glass and sending family members scurrying for safety. Greg got the baby and nurse out the door, and wedged it shut with a chair. He drew a pair of long knives from his belt and started moving slowly towards where the demon lay on the floor bleeding.

  “Hungry….” The thing hissed from where it lay on the floor.

  “Well, sorry, pal. Nobody left here that can be a meal for you.” The thing stared up at me, spitting, then sprang straight up and over my head. Faster than I thought it could move, it sprinted across the ceiling at Sabrina, who drew her sidearm and got off five or six quick shots before the demon dropped straight down on her. She curled up in a ball as it ripped into her with all six claws.

  I let out a roar that shook the walls and jumped halfway across the room, landing beside Sabrina and bringing my sword crashing down on the demon. I sliced it in half all the way down to its rear legs, then drew back and made a huge, sweeping sideways slash that sent its head flying to splat against the far wall. I knelt down beside Sabrina, terrified of what I was going to see. But what I saw was silver shining up at me through huge rents in her jacket and shirt.

  “You wore the chain mail.” I said, sitting back on my heels in relief.

  “Yeah, it seemed like a good idea at the time.” She said, wiping demon blood off of her face and smiling up at me.

  “It wanted to drink your blood.” I said.

  “I think there might be a line forming for that.” She said as she holstered her pistol.

  “Because you’re still a virgin.” I said, a tone of wonder in my voice. I’d heard of those mythical creatures reaching adulthood, but outside of movies I’d never seen one.

  “Never found the right guy.” She said, blushing.

  “Yeah, we’re going to have to do something about that.” I said. Her head snapped up and I realized that I’d once against lost the volume knob for my internal monologue. “I mean, there are all sorts of things that feed on virgins, so it’s not as safe as it once was.” I stammered a minute longer before I settled on “Forget I said anything. Let’s get out of here.”

  “Good idea,” Greg said from the door. “I don’t think you’re the only cop on the scene anymore, Sabrina.”

  “Crap,” she said, standing and trying to straighten her gore-splattered clothes. “No idea how I’m going to explain this one.”

  “Leave that to me,” I said, heading out to the hall to use my vamp mojo on the cops and make all the witnesses think that an Alzheimer’s patient had gotten loose and gone wandering again. No harm done, no foul. Greg went down to the morgue to tell Bobby the coast was clear, and we left the mess in the nursery to some very confused janitors.

  A couple of hours later, showered and dressed in sweats, cell phones all turned off and stashed in the crisper with the blood bags, we settled back in to start our movie. Sabrina, looking far hotter than anyone in borrowed sweats and a Captain America t-shirt had any right to, picked up the DVD box and said “I don’t know if I’m in the mood to watch this movie anymore.” She held up the Alien box set, and we all broke up laughing.

  Black Magic Woman

  A Black Knight Chronicles Short Story

  By John G. Hartness

  The annual Heroes Co
n in Charlotte is one of the largest comic conventions in the Southeast each year. The guys that work at Heroes Aren’t Hard to Find are awesome, as is the owner, Shelton Drum. They put on an amazing con, and I think Jimmy and Greg would love it. I know I do. I actually worked part-time for the shop for a year or two back when I was playing Magic:The Gathering a lot, that was how I supported my Magic habit. This is kinda my love note to comics and comic fandom. These events take place after Back in Black.

  “You know I hate this crap.” I muttered as we walked through the sliding glass doors of the convention center.

  “You know I don’t care.” My partner, Greg Knightwood replied.

  “And why do we have to buy the special preview tickets? They’re like twice as expensive as the day passes.”

  “Did you forget the key thing about a day pass? They’re only good during the daytime. These sneak preview passes get us in at night. And since we burst into flame at the first touch of sunlight, I thought coming to the convention at night would be the better choice.” My portly partner had a point. As bloodsucking creatures of the night, we weren’t even nodding acquaintances with sunlight anymore, so evening hours were the only hours we could come to a comic book convention. Unfortunately for me, this one offered evening hours.

  “Quit your whining, you lost the bet, you pay the price.” Greg said with a grin as he swept his cape theatrically through the air. My rotund business partner preceded my into the exhibit hall with a flourish of black velour, latex and poor taste. Signs proclaiming “Welcome to Heroes Con 2011!” festooned from the rafters, and thousands of other costumed uber-nerds swarmed the aisles of the largest comic book convention in the Carolinas. I carried Greg’s backpack, which, while nearly empty at the moment, promised to be bulging at the zippers and testing the very limits of my supernatural strength by the time he finished raiding the discounted trade paperbacks and quarter bins at the various comic vendors scattered throughout the thousands of square feet of exhibit space. I sighed and followed him around, turning my head to catch my first sighting of the obligatory Slave Princess Leia cosplayer roaming the show.

  “You’re right, pal. This might not be so bad after all.”

  “Put your eyes back in your head, she’s too young for you.”

  “I’ve been dead since the 90s, of course she’s too young for me. But just because I’m dead doesn’t mean I’m dead, you know?”

  “I don’t even want to think about the lack of logic running through that sentence.” At least, that’s what I thought he said, but I couldn’t really tell. Because at that moment my partner had hit his knees right in the concrete aisle and started to dig through the floor boxes at Walkin’ Willie’s Comics, burying his head in the long box labeled “50% Off Golden Age.” I watched his sizable rump wiggle in happiness like a spandex-clad overweight puppy for a minute then shook my head and went over to the nearest t-shirt vendor.

  I was poking through the dazzling array of stupid Star Trek pun t-shirts on display and looking for a Doctor Who “Fighting Time Lords” shirt when I smelled something. Not the usual mix of B.O. and bad burritos that I’ve grown accustomed to after years of being dragged to geek fests by Greg, but something wrong. I looked around, but couldn’t figure out what was setting my vampy-sense tingling. Before I had a chance to investigate, a shrill scream from the next aisle over drew my attention.

  I rounded the corner to see a scrawny fanboy sprawled across the floor, Mountain Dew soaking his Chuck Taylor hi-tops and back issues spilling from his backpack. Standing above him, a geek’s wet dream in black spandex, stood Detective Sabrina Law. Attractive in street clothes, Sabrina was rocking the greatest undercover outfit I’d ever seen. I stopped short at the end of the aisle and just gawked at her, brown curls tied back in a sleek ponytail, double hip holsters each sporting a pistol, with knee-high buckled boots, a tank top that threatened to lose its structural integrity at any moment, and a pair of shorts that would have gotten her expelled in my high school days.

  She glared down at the drooling dork in front of her and growled, “Watch the hands, termite.”

  I chuckled a little as I walked up to her, extending my arm. “Ms. Croft, how nice of you to make an appearance.” I lowered my voice and leaned in closer as she took my elbow. “Don’t shoot him, you don’t want to deal with the paperwork.” She gave me a long look, as if considering just how much paperwork would be involved in shooting a pervert at a comic convention, and then holstered her gun.

  “Good idea,” I said. “And what in the world are you doing in that costume?”

  “You think you’re the only one to ever lose a bet to your idiot partner?”

  “Well, yeah. I kinda did. But now I think I need to thank him.” I gave her legs another approving look, and trust me; there was a lot to approve of. Sabrina punched me in the shoulder, but not hard enough to make me stop staring. Come to think of it, I don’t think humans can hit hard enough to make me stop staring at her legs. “So what’s your payoff? I have to carry all the comics he buys. What is he making you do?”

  “…”

  “Sorry, couldn’t hear that bit. And I have the ears of a bat.” Literally.

  “I have to enter the costume contest.”

  “I do owe him a thank you. But why did you let him pick out your costume?”

  “I didn’t.”

  “You mean you own this stuff?” My eyebrows were living somewhere around my hairline by now, and we had stopped dead in front of another booth. Sabrina pulled me out of the lane of traffic so at least we weren’t keeping the poor vendor from making a living. But judging by how fast I heard his heart beating when she walked past, he didn’t mind if she stood there all night.

  “Yes, I own all this stuff. It’s mostly just workout gear, with a couple of holsters and motorcycle boots. Come on, it’s not a big deal. Besides, if I’ve got to enter the contest, I might as well try to win.”

  “Makes sense, but you don’t wear stuff like this when we work out.”

  “How much exercise would you get if I did?”

  “You don’t really want me to answer that.” She punched me again, and we started looking for Greg. We found him still buried to the shoulders in old Superman and Batman back issues, with a sizable stack of purchases stacked on the floor beside him.

  “You know I’m only carrying the one bag, right?” I said as we walked up. He turned around and looked up at us. Well, looked at Sabrina, to be precise. He looked up, and up, and up until finally he made it all the way up to her face. I was impressed. I thought he’d faint before he scaled the entirety of Mount Hottie, but he made it. He handed me his comics silently and kissed Sabrina’s hand.

  “I swear that was the best game of poker I’ve ever cheated at.” He mumbled. I snorted, trying to hold it in, but failed and collapsed into gales of laughter at the look on Sabrina’s face.

  “You…you cheated?”

  “Yeah, I totally stacked the deck. Never play cards with a guy who can move faster than you can see. But God, it was worth it.”

  “You know I’m going to kick your ass for this, right?”

  “If you promise to wear those shorts I won’t even resist.”

  I chimed in at that point. “If you wear those shorts, I’ll take his place!”

  “No need for chivalry, partner. I did the crime, I’ll do the time.” Greg grinned.

  Sabrina just threw her hands up muttering something about boys as she walked off to withdraw from the costume contest. I could feel the judges’ hearts breaking from all the way across the convention. Greg paid for his comics, and I put them in the backpack I was carrying, as promised. Sabrina rejoined us a few minutes later in an oversized Captain America t-shirt, much to the disappointment of every male in a ten-block radius.

  We wandered the con for an hour or so, picking through the dollar bins, getting a few of Greg’s prized issues autographed by the artists and picking up some of the cooler independent stuff on display. We stopped for a while to watch a l
ocal artist paint a portrait of Domino holding a Deadpool teddy bear, and I picked up an autographed Neil Gaiman print at the Comic Book Legal Defense Fund booth. We chatted with several of the webcomics creators, especially the Capes n’ Babes guy, because his strip has werewolves and vampires in it. What can I say; we’ve got a soft spot for our people. We were heading to the exit when we saw Shelton, the organizer of the convention, kneeling in an aisle with a tearful little boy.

  “What’s wrong, Shelton?” I asked as we walked up. Shelton owned one of the coolest comic shops in the city, and Greg and I’d spent more hours and allowances than we cared to think about over the years. Shelton still looked almost like he did then, just a little more grey on top. We never asked how he stayed so young-looking, and he did us the same favor. I was almost certain there was nothing supernatural about his appearance, but just almost. And our youthful vigor certainly wasn’t the result of clean living. Or living at all, for that matter.

  “This young fella here has lost his dad. I’m going to go make an announcement.”

  “We’ll take care of him while you do. This is our friend Sabrina, she’s a police officer.” Greg directed that last part to the kid, who looked at us with wide eyes. I wasn’t surprised. After all, Greg was wearing a lot of spandex and a cape, and Sabrina looked to be only wearing a big t-shirt, but she did produce a badge from somewhere in her costume. I was dressed normally, at least for me, in a leather duster, jeans, boots and a Faster Pussycat, Kill, Kill t-shirt. The kid was about eight or so, blonde with big blue eyes. I heard Shelton’s voice come over the loudspeaker, but nobody rushed over to claim the kid. Then I smelled it, the same scent I’d caught earlier. I still couldn’t place it, but knew that it didn’t come from any of the local nerds. That scent was definitely non-human.

  “You smell that?” I asked Greg.

  “Dude, did you…” He muttered back.

  “No, not that. The other smell. And that wasn’t me!”