Gawain (Knights of Excalibur Book 1)

by Hanley, Donald

  No, not someone, something. It dropped to all fours and bounded towards them like a cheetah chasing down a fleeing antelope, a sleek black rocket with a white face and limbs. Her boggled brain couldn’t come up with a name for whatever it was. It was too graceful to be a dog, too long-legged to be some kind of cat, too slender to be a bear, but it was unbelievably fast. In a few short seconds, before Trish could even lift her hand to point, it had already closed half the distance between them. Her eyes must have given it away, though, and Hawk looked over his shoulder.

  “Shit,” he spat. He immediately ran around the car and stood in front of her, moving in slow motion compared to the creature. “Get in the house!” he yelled as the thing gathered itself and leapt over the car with a snarl.

  Not just over, but ten feet over, spreading its arms and claws like it intended to drive Hawk into the ground and rip out his throat in one killing motion. For an instant, Trisha’s panicked eyes told her it was actually a woman in a black leotard with bare arms and legs, but that made even less sense than some strange wild animal looking for blood. Then time sped up again and it struck.

  Hawk went down with an explosive grunt, but an instant later the creature slammed against the side of the car. Before Hawk could get to his feet, it was on him again, raking at his arms as he gripped its neck, barely holding it off. His leather coat protected him for the moment, but it wouldn’t last for long.

  “Get inside!” he snapped. With a heave, he rolled over, pinning the creature underneath him. It slashed at his face and he jerked back out of the way, just enough to loosen his grip. The creature twisted itself free and lunged for him, only to stagger back when Hawk punched it in the jaw. It shook its head once and then snarled, exposing a set of very long and very sharp canines. For a moment, it looked almost human, and frighteningly familiar.

  “Chantal?” Trisha gasped. The creature flicked its yellow eyes in her direction and she stumbled backwards, tripping over the steps and falling painfully, but she scarcely noticed. It was Chantal, but horribly altered somehow.

  “Get inside!” Hawk yelled again. He and Chantal faced off against each other, each waiting for the other to make a move.

  “The door’s locked!” Her voice squeaked in panic as she scrabbled to get back on her feet.

  “Shit! Get in the car, then!” He raised his fists just as Chantal attacked again, leaping in an impossibly acrobatic move to dodge his punch and land behind him. She wrapped her arms around him and bit the side of his neck. Hawk howled in pain as he struggled to get her off.

  Trisha stood frozen in shock and fear. She had no idea what was happening or what she should do. I have to get out of here. Should I run? Chantal can catch me in two seconds, but she’s trying to protect me, isn’t she? What if she isn’t, though? Wait, I have my gun! She fumbled in her pockets for the Glock.

  Hawk ripped Chantal off and flung her aside, but she immediately rolled to her feet and jumped at him again. This time his fist connected and she went down hard. Trisha got the pistol out and gripped it tightly with both hands. The muzzle shook as she tried to figure out who to aim it at. Chantal’s helping Lionel, but now she’s this – this thing and Hawk’s trying to save me from her. I think. She wavered between the two as Chantal deflected Hawk’s stomping foot aside and spun out of arm’s reach, ending up in a growling crouch not three feet away.

  Trisha automatically pointed the weapon at her, but that was a mistake. Chantal saw the movement and her feral yellow eyes locked on her. She bared her fangs and pounced as Trisha squeezed her eyes shut and fired. The shot was incredibly loud in her ears but it couldn’t mask Chantal’s scream, although she couldn’t tell whether it was from rage or pain. Trisha cringed, waiting to be torn to shreds.

  “Give me that!” Hawk ripped the Glock from her hands and shoved her away, sending her staggering. She glimpsed Chantal huddled at the base of the steps, glaring at both of them with her hand clutching her left shoulder. “Get in the car, damn it!”

  Trisha finally obeyed. She scrambled to her feet, scurrying around the car to the open door and flinging herself into the driver’s seat. The car was turned off and she fumbled around for the ignition, hoping Hawk had left the keys inside. It had a push-button starter, thankfully, and she stabbed it with her finger. The car roared to life and the dashboard lit up like the cockpit of a 747.

  Another shriek and another gunshot preceded something colliding solidly with the car, rocking it on its suspension. She caught a fleeting glimpse of Hawk’s back sliding down the passenger window, leaving a red smudge of the glass. She looked around desperately but Chantal was nowhere in sight. A moment later, the passenger door opened and Hawk fell into the seat, slamming the door closed. “Drive!”

  Trisha yanked on the gear shift, only realizing that it was a manual when the transmission made a teeth-hurting grating sound. She hadn’t driven a stick since college but she found the clutch and shifted into first, punching the accelerator. The engine howled like a banshee and the tires spun on the icy brickwork, finally finding some traction and sending them rocketing around the driveway. Trisha’s door slammed painfully into her elbow as she tried to straighten out and aim for the gate.

  “Son of a bitch! What the hell are you doing?” Hawk reached over to grab the steering wheel just as something landed heavily on the roof. “Fuck!” He pointed the Glock straight up and shot twice. Trisha screamed and covered her head with her arms. “Drive, damn it!”

  Trisha grabbed the wheel again and shifted into second and then third, finally dropping the tach below the redline. The car sped towards the gate as Hawk tried to peer up through the windshield. A clawed hand slammed down right where his head was, spiderwebbing the glass but not breaking through. Hawk fired a third shot through the roof and something scraped across the metal like fingernails on the world’s biggest blackboard. Chantal’s misshapen form filled the rearview mirror, bracing herself on the rear spoiler as she raised her fist to break through the window. Hawk beat her to it.

  His shot shattered the glass and sent her flying off the back of the car. Trisha watched her tumble bonelessly on the driveway, finally stopping in a limp, tangled heap. Then, incredibly, Chantal lifted her head and staggered slowly to her feet.

  “Shit! Watch where you’re going!”

  Trisha jerked her attention back to the front. They were pointed straight at one of the stone pillars supporting the open ironwork gate. She spun the steering wheel, forcing herself to let up on the gas as the car slewed around crazily before shooting through the gap into the roadway beyond. The street was clear of traffic, thankfully, and she managed to get back into the proper lane, leaving the gate far behind in the mirror. For a heart-stopping moment, she thought she saw Chantal crouching in the middle of the road behind them but she blinked and the image was gone, leaving Trisha to wonder if she was seeing things.

  “Where are we going?” she finally asked, not caring how shaky her voice was.

  “I don’t care,” he said. He slumped in his seat, looking grim as he inspected the ragged slashes in his coat sleeve. The black leather was damp, but she couldn’t tell if it was melted snow or blood. He laid his head back on the seat and closed his eyes. The Glock lay in his lap and Trisha eyed it warily. “Just get us out of here.”

  Trisha gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles, alternating between looking at the road ahead, at Hawk, and in the mirror. She shivered, but only some of that was because of the cold air gusting in through the shattered rear window.

  What have I done? she wondered bleakly. She shot a sideways glance at Hawk. I’ve gone from the frying pan into the fire.

  28

  Neither of them spoke for a long while and the air in the house was tense and heavy. Nim still sat at the dinette, her hands loosely clasped together on the table top, while Savard sat in one of the dining room chairs, turned around to let him lean across the back as he faced her. He was well out of arm’s reach but she knew he would be upon her in one leap, should s
he give him cause to do so.

  It was hard to read his expression, but she sensed a strange mixture of anger, pain, and regret. She wondered if she could exploit that somehow.

  “You’re a long way from le Château-des-Ombres, René,” she said finally. Savard lifted his head slightly but said nothing. “You’ve been in the States for two months, haven’t you? It can’t be good for you to be away for so long.”

  “Be quiet, Nim,” Savard growled. “You know nothing.”

  She fell silent, considering her options. One wrong word could be disastrous. “I’m surprised you agreed to help Lionel. That hasn’t worked out so well for you in the past.”

  A menacing rumble filled the air and the arms of Savard’s chair creaked under his hands. “Better his patronage than yours, Nim. He does not hound us and keep us trapped in the mountains.”

  “You murder people, René,” she said quietly. “We can’t ignore that.”

  “Survival is not murder. Your Knights have decimated us. Once we were many, now we are just a few, cowering in the shadows.” Savard’s shoulders drooped as he looked away, his yellow eyes pinched with loss. Nim’s lips parted in surprise.

  “You’re no longer the leader,” she breathed. “They cast you out.”

  “Gaspar challenged me. He said he would not follow one who could not even protect his own family.” Savard squeezed his eyes tight. “Only one other followed me into exile.” His eyes snapped open and fixed on Nim, flashing with savage anger. “When I am well again, I will return and reclaim my rightful place.”

  Nim kept her features carefully neutral. Savard was hurt and bitter and angry, a very volatile combination. Then her phone rang, startling them both. Savard rose from his chair and she leaned back slowly, keeping her hands in sight.

  “It’s probably Hawk looking for me,” she said carefully. “He’ll wonder why I don’t answer.”

  His eyes bored into hers, filled with suspicion and doubt. “Take it out and show me who is calling,” he said finally. “Do not answer.”

  Nim carefully reached into her coat pocket and removed her phone, glancing at the display before holding it up for Savard to read. “Hawk, as I said.”

  The phone fell silent but Savard remained tense, his gaze switching back and forth between Nim’s face and her phone. “Place it on the table,” he ordered. “If it rings again, do not answer unless I tell you to.”

  Nim obeyed, setting the phone on the table beside Lucas’s wallet. Just as she lifted her hand away, it rang again, displaying Hawk’s name. She remained very still, her hand still raised, watching Savard’s face. He scowled at the phone, his nostrils flaring as if Hawk himself stood in the room with them. He said nothing and the ringing stopped.

  Nim laid her hands back on the table, palms down. “He’ll come looking for me,” she said. “He knows I’m here.”

  “Does he know I am here?”

  She considered lying to him but she knew that would be futile. “No.”

  “Bon. If he comes, I will deal with him.”

  Savard fell silent but he remained standing, an ominous shadow looming over her. Nim kept her gaze fixed on her phone, wondering what Hawk was doing. He must have checked both properties on his list by now. Either he found nothing useful and wanted to know if he should try the final address, or he found Patricia Macmillan and whoever was watching her. If Savard was here, though, any ordinary guard would be no match for him.

  But Savard said another stayed with him when he was exiled from France, she mused, keeping the worry from her face. It would make sense for Lionel to have that one keep watch over Patricia, since Savard is so badly injured. Is that why Lionel isn’t here? Did Hawk manage to free her? It was frustrating to have so many questions and no answers.

  Savard’s head came up suddenly and he sniffed the air, turning slowly until he faced the front door. A low growl, barely audible, escaped his throat as he stepped silently around the dining room table. Nim allowed herself a fleeting moment of hope before telling herself that Hawk couldn’t possibly have made it across town so quickly, even if he somehow knew she was in danger.

  “Is that Lionel, do you think?” she asked calmly. Savard paused, half turning his head to look at her with heavy-lidded eyes before continuing towards the door. At least he might hesitate a moment before attacking whoever was out there. That was all she could do for now, except to prepare her own defenses. She curled her fingers into her palms and waited for her moment.

  Savard reached the door and stopped, absolutely motionless except for the slight rise and fall of his shoulders as he breathed. His eyes were fixed on the door knob, which turned ever so slowly. Just as the latch clicked open, he lunged and yanked the door open fast enough to ruffle the hair on his hand, his other hand lifting to claw the life out of the intruder. Then he paused in surprise. There was no one there.

  His head whipped around to glare at Nim, as if she was somehow responsible for this trickery, and her heart stopped in her chest at the rage and hatred in those yellow orbs, breaking her concentration. Then a hand appeared around the edge of the doorway and a gunshot boomed throughout the house. Savard’s head snapped sideways and he toppled bonelessly onto the parquet floor, his legs twisted under him and his arms outflung.

  A man stepped in and stood over him, calmly aiming a large caliber revolver at Savard’s heart. He pulled the trigger again and Savard’s body twitched violently and lay still. The sharp scent of gunpowder and blood hung heavily in the air as the man waited for a slow count of ten and then lowered his weapon.

  “Is he dead?” Nim asked, her composure back in its proper place.

  Lucas glanced down at his gun with a doubtful grimace. “I’d need more bullets than this thing holds,” he said regretfully. “And a machete.”

  “Well, let’s not waste time, then.” Nim rose and picked up her phone, tucking it into her coat pocket. She collected the wallet and pass key and strode quickly to Lucas’s side, sparing only a quick glance at the body sprawled at their feet. “You should take better care with your things.”

  “Thanks.” Butler shoved the articles into the pocket of the oversized suit he wore. He looked pale behind the bandages on his face but he still managed a wry grin. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

  “My thanks will have to wait. Lionel could return at any moment and he,” she indicated Savard with a quick nod, “will be quite angry when he recovers.” She strode out the front door without waiting for his reply and Butler hurried after her, carefully closing the door behind him.

  Nim headed straight for the Jaguar, pausing with her hand on the door as she frowned at the white sedan parked on the side of the road at the end of the driveway. There didn’t seem to be anyone inside. “Is that your car?” she asked as Butler came up beside her.

  “Yes.”

  “Where did you get it? Nick Johnson’s was still at the hospital.”

  “Who’s Nick Johnson?”

  She looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “You’re wearing his clothes.”

  “Oh, him. Is he okay?”

  “He’s fine. Where did you get that car? You didn’t use any of his credit cards.”

  “That’s the rental car I picked up when I got here.”

  “You still had the keys?”

  “No, I just called the rental company and told them I lost them.”

  “And they gave a new set to you without any ID? Savard had your wallet.”

  “I told them I’d been mugged.” He gestured to his face ruefully. “My company ID was still in the travel case I left in the trunk, so they decided that was proof enough.”

  “Why didn’t you just return to the apartment, then? We had no idea where you were.”

  Butler hesitated. “That’s going to take a bit of explaining.”

  “Very well, but not here. Can you head back there now?” Butler nodded. “I’ll meet you there. If there’s a problem, go to the Boston office and speak with Dr. Tam Nguyen. He’ll be able to contact us.”
He nodded again. “I’ll let Hawk know to join us there.”

  Butler’s face lit up. “Hawk’s here in Boston? Thank God.”

  “I sent him to look for you when you disappeared. Why is that important?”

  “That’s part of that long explanation I owe you.”

  “All right,” Nim said doubtfully. She tensed as a car drove past along the road, but it disappeared behind the trees fronting the property without slowing. “We’d best go. I’ll see you at the apartment.” Butler nodded and strode along the driveway towards his car. “And Lucas?” He stopped and looked back. “I’m glad you’re all right.”

  He grinned broadly. “So am I.”

  29

  Hawk shoved his phone back into his jacket pocket, looking anxious. Up ahead, the light turned green and Trisha shifted into first. The Corvette bucked and stuttered before she finally got it into motion and Hawk threw up his hands in frustration.

  “Oh, for Christ’s sake!” he snapped. “Pull over and let me drive. You’re going to drop the transmission into the street if you keep clutching like that.”

  Trisha almost yelled at him that she was doing her best but she didn’t want to give him another chance to recognize her voice. The cold air swirling through the shattered back window gave her an excuse to keep her scarf on and he was distracted from the wounds on his neck and arms, but she knew the charade wouldn’t last much longer. She looked around again for a police car she could flag down but there was no one in sight who could help her escape. She was on her own.

  “Over there,” Hawk told her, pointing to a small parking lot in front of a plumbing supply store. There was only one other car. “Pull in there.”

  Trisha obeyed, straddling two spaces in the hopes that someone would notice and come out to complain but no one appeared. Hawk got out as soon as she put the car into neutral and set the brake and she almost drove off without him. He still held the Glock, though, and she watched him examine the passenger door with a shake of his head.