Black Knight

by Christopher Pike

  By the time I get there, Marc has spruced up for me. He has on a nice pair of beige slacks, an apricot shirt, and a brown sports coat he paid good money for—unless he stole it. Not many guys can get away with apricot anything—it’s too close to pink—but on Marc it works. Or maybe the clothes have nothing to do with it.

  I feel like a slob. I haven’t changed from my training, and a few of Kendor’s spears nicked me. As a result I’ve got bloodstains on my bare arms and pants. Marc raises an eyebrow when he answers the door.

  “What’s wrong with you witches? You don’t take showers when you move from one world to the other? Too busy waxing down your broomsticks?”

  “Cute. Don’t tell me you’re a surfer?”

  “I’m world class and I’ll teach you if you explain why you’re covered in blood.”

  “It’s just a few drops.” He’s not buying it. “I just came from practicing how to kill the bad guys in that other world.”

  “Is that your blood or your trainers’?”

  “Mine,” I admit.

  “You don’t have a scratch on you.”

  “Told you, I heal fast. Are you going to invite me in or what?”

  He’s amused. “I was going to take you to my favorite restaurant but they won’t let you in dressed like that.”

  “So take me to that mall where you park your extra cars. Buy me a new outfit, I know you can afford it.”

  “Whoa! You sprang for the tab last night. I would never have figured you for an expensive date.”

  I smile. “You have no idea.”

  He lets me take a quick shower at his place then we go to the mall, where I pick out a tight pair of black slacks that show off my butt, a silk blouse that matches the color of his shirt, and a black leather jacket that’s both chic and country at the same time. Marc insists on a pair of brown boots that catch his eye, and make me four inches taller.

  “I don’t like to have to bend over to kiss a girl,” he explains as we head for my car. He seems to like that I drive.

  “Ha! Sounds like you’ve got the whole night planned,” I say.

  “Me? What about you and my twin?”

  “I’m not sure what you mean,” I say.

  “You know exactly what I mean. My problem is I don’t know what kind of relationship you two have got going. You’ve only known me a few days. Ordinarily I don’t trust people I’ve just met.”

  “Not so. You trust me with your life.”

  “Probably because I’ve got no choice. Tell me what kind of personal information he gave you about me?”

  “His first rule was that I not tell you anything he said.”

  “There you go! That cannot be true! I wouldn’t shut my own self down just to please a fresh piece . . . a brand-new girl I just met.”

  “Were you about to call me ‘a fresh piece of ass’?”

  “No, ma’am! I’m not ghetto, I don’t talk that way.”

  “Liar. You’re comfortable in all kinds of environments and know how to adapt to wherever you’re at and whoever you’re with. You’re a chameleon.”

  Marc considers quietly. “Did he tell you how to get to me?”

  “No.”

  “You swear?”

  I smile, poke him. “He didn’t have to. I already know.”

  His favorite restaurant is in Santa Monica, not that far from my house, across the street from the beach. It’s a few floors up and we get an outside table that allows us to view the sunset. The waitress swings by and Marc orders steak while I ask for swordfish and a large margarita. I just have to give the waitress a sharp look and she doesn’t bother asking for ID. Only in witch world.

  Noting the exchange, Marc asks for a beer and when the waitress is gone he leans near the table’s center candle and asks if I just used my powers on that poor unsuspecting girl.

  “What I did with her was hardly a miracle. This is a pricey restaurant and I picked up that she’s used to serving powerful people and knows not to question them. My look was just a look.”

  “But only because you were able to feel her out?” he asks.

  “That’s one way of looking at it. Why do you ask? Afraid I’m going to make you do something you don’t want to do?”

  “Duh. In case you’ve forgotten, you talked about me dying for you last night.”

  I speak seriously. “The ‘dying’ is for both of us. Actually, it’s more for you than me. Unless you get a hundred times stronger fast, you’ll be toast.”

  “Jessie . . .”

  “Another thing. I wasn’t given a choice to ‘connect.’ It was thrust on me. But you do have a choice. I’m not going to force it on you.”

  Marc sits back in his chair. “I take it things aren’t going so well in the Field?”

  “They’ve gone from bad to worse. I lost a good friend yesterday and you’re barely hanging on.”

  “Why?”

  “You were stabbed in the lower back, probably poisoned. We’re holed up in a cave not far from the top of a volcano and you have a high fever.”

  “Shit,” he mutters.

  “Exactly.” Our drinks come and I take a deep drink of my margarita. After all I’ve been through, I need something to calm my nerves. I add, “Anything else you want to know?”

  Marc sips his beer. “Who stabbed me?”

  “Viper. She snuck up on you while invisible—the bitch. You didn’t stand a chance. I chopped off her hand if it’s any consolation.”

  “I’d feel better if you’d killed her.”

  “You’re not alone.”

  Marc smiles and shakes his head. “This is what my twin told you to tell me? Tales of invisible witches with poisonous knives? I don’t think you’re lying, but I’ve got to warn you that you’re ruining my appetite.”

  I shrug. “You asked, I didn’t want to lie. But you’re right, we should talk about something more cheery. Have you figured out who you’re going to sell that emerald to?”

  Marc quickly glances around and leans close. “Shh. Wrong part of town to be talking about a missing jewel. There was an article in the LA Times about the theft. The reporter seemed to know more than he should.”

  “You know you can’t keep it up.”

  He raises his palms in mock surrender but keeps his voice low. “No one knows that better than I do. That was my last job using my valet cover. And I’ve decided I’m going to break down the rock into medium-size pieces before I fence it. The jewel’s too well known, too easy to trace.”

  “Marc . . . ,” I begin.

  “Don’t say it,” he interrupts.

  “What?”

  “That I could be doing a lot more with my life.”

  “It’s true. You’re smart, you plan everything carefully, but it’s all a question of odds. Eventually you’ll get caught and sent to jail. Imagine living a decade behind bars? It would be such a waste.”

  “Of course I wouldn’t have to live the way I do if I’m connected. Is that what you’re saying? I could make all the money I want just by turning on a few well-hidden genes.”

  “Money is the worst reason in the world to become a witch.”

  “Spoken like a true, spoiled, rich girl.”

  “Hey, for your information I grew up wearing the same five pants and three skirts to school for all of my junior and senior years.”

  “I thought you said your father’s a heart surgeon.”

  “He is, but that’s a long story, and I’m not here to talk about how tough it’s been for you or me. We talked enough about our lives last night. I’m here because we’ve got a problem.”

  Marc sips his beer. “And because you’re crazy about me. Let’s not forget that.”

  “It’s more the other way around but whatever.” I take another gulp of my drink and signal to the waitress to bring me another. “Let’
s enjoy our dinner and talk business later. I’ve been through a lot since we last met. I need to unwind.”

  “I can see that,” Marc says as he watches me finish my margarita.

  I’ve finished my second drink by the time our food arrives so I order a third. I know I’m acting reckless but figure that since my memorial’s only a few days away . . . what the hell.

  The swordfish tastes divine and Marc lets me have a bite of his steak and it isn’t bad. By the time we leave the restaurant, I’m blabbing away about Las Vegas and how great I am at twenty-one, blackjack. Marc figures I’m drunk and really mean twenty-two, red queen. It is, after all, the game of choice in witch world.

  We walk over to the Santa Monica Pier, to the end, and for the second time today I stare out at the sea and wonder how long I’ve left to live. The thought is sobering; I stop talking. Marc puts his arm around me and I lean into him. He feels like the other Marc, whom I’m sleeping beside in the cave so I can keep an eye on his fever.

  “You want me to go through with it,” he says. “You want me to die.”

  “For a short time, yes.”

  “You know how crazy that is?”

  “Yes.”

  “How would we do it?”

  “When I was driving to your apartment, I spoke to a friend, Herme. He sells drugs and medical equipment to doctors. He knows what to give you to stop your heart and he knows what to do to restart it.”

  “Is he a doctor?”

  “No. But he’s old and has a ton of experience.”

  “I thought your dad would be there.”

  “I can’t get ahold of my dad.”

  “It’s sort of a bad time for him to go missing.”

  “I can’t argue with that.”

  Marc stares out at the dark sea. “How much time does it take?”

  “It’s different for everyone. How long they have to be dead. How long they take to connect. Let’s just say the sooner we start the better.”

  “Jessie.”

  “You’re not ready, I know.”

  “I’m sorry, really. I know you’re trying to save my life as much as your own. Maybe more. It’s just the thought of lying down on a table and some stranger sticking me with a needle that will stop my heart—it freaks me out. I can’t handle it.”

  “I understand.”

  Marc pulls me close. “What should we do?”

  “Take me to your apartment.”

  “Is that what my twin told you to say?”

  “It doesn’t matter. Take me.”

  I drive back to his apartment, slowly, making sure I don’t run any lights or miss any stop signs. We park on the street, and as we walk to his front door, he grabs my hand, and for a moment I’m able to pretend that I’m with Jimmy. That I’m about to make sweet love with my wonderful boyfriend.

  But when we get inside and begin to kiss, it’s not Jimmy.

  It’s Marc and he feels so good it’s hard for me to feel bad.

  We end up naked in bed and I feel I’m drowning in a sea of sensation. Minutes go by where I can’t stop myself, nor can he, and it’s okay, it’s better than okay. It honestly feels like it was meant to be.

  But when he stops to put on a condom, everything in the room seems to slow down. It’s almost like when Nordra attacked me and time dropped to a crawl and I was able to escape with my life. Once again it’s like I’m being given a chance to avoid a fatal wound. And Marc seems to sense that. Even though he sits with his back to me on the edge of the bed, I know his mind the same way I knew it in the dreams I had of him before we met. And I know he knows there’s someone else in the room with us. He turns and faces me.

  “You don’t want to do this,” he says.

  “I do.”

  He drops the condom and moves close. “You can’t do this.”

  I stare at him. I shake my head. “I have to.”

  He shakes his head. “You don’t have to.”

  “But you said, he said, it was the only way to get you to do it.”

  “He never said that. I would never say that and he knows you a lot better than I do. He loves you. You don’t have to do this.”

  I struggle to breathe. “I don’t understand.”

  “I’ll do it. I’m telling you I’ll do it.”

  “No.”

  “What do you mean no? That’s why you’re here. We have to do it. It’s the only way to save us both.” He reaches for his pants. I stop him.

  “No,” I repeat.

  “What’s wrong with you, Jessie?”

  “It’s you, it’s us, it’s me. You love me, maybe I love you, I don’t know. But it’s too dangerous.”

  “Of course it’s dangerous! You’re talking about me dying. But it’s just as dangerous if we do nothing. I get it, I finally get it. So why are you suddenly afraid to go ahead with it?”

  “Because you don’t understand. If you die in this world, what we call witch world, you die in both worlds. But if you just die on the island, in the Field, you can still be alive here. I can still see you here.”

  Marc takes a moment to digest what I’ve told him. Granted, it’s a hell of a lot to absorb in the space of a moment.

  “Even if we both die in the Field, I could still see you here?”

  “Yes,” I say.

  “Are you sure?”

  “It’s complicated. I’m not a hundred percent sure.”

  He stares at me sitting naked before him. “What should we do?”

  “Well, for one thing, we shouldn’t call Herme.”

  “That’s not what I’m talking about.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Your boyfriend. He was there last night, in the deli, I saw him.”

  “You did? How? I didn’t even know he was there.”

  Marc waves his hand. “It doesn’t matter.” I reach for him but he holds me back. “He’s here now.”

  Sitting back, I glance anxiously around. “Where?”

  Marc smiles sadly and shakes his head. “He’s sitting right here, between us. You know it and I know it.”

  Without thinking, I pull up the sheet and cover my breasts.

  “What should we do?” I say.

  “I asked first.”

  “Yeah, right. How about we do what we’re doing in the other world? There, I’m sleeping beside you. Can I sleep beside you here?”

  “Just sleep?”

  “Would that be all right?” I ask, sounding like a child.

  Marc leans over and kisses me on the forehead.

  “It would be perfect,” he says.

  CHAPTER NINE

  I FEEL HEAT AND SWEAT and hear the sound of running water. For a long moment, I don’t know why, I refuse to open my eyes. I feel like if I allow myself to fully awaken, I’ll regret it. I’m like a child who can’t bear the idea of having to get out of bed in the morning and go to a new school where I don’t know anyone and I’m sure I’ll be too stupid to understand what’s being taught.

  Only my feeling of dread is a hundred times worse.

  It’s only when I hear Marc speak that I open my eyes.

  “Jessie,” he says. How odd it is to hear him say my name in a dark cave in the Field in the real world when moments ago I was in his bed in witch world. In the faint light that comes from the cave entrance, he looks like he’s aged fifteen years since we went to sleep in his apartment. He’s beyond sick, he looks like he’s dying.

  Yet he smiles at me. “Sweet dreams?” he asks.

  “How are you feeling?” Sitting up, I put my hand on his forehead, feeling a fever I’m afraid to give a number to. He’s on fire.

  “Great,” he answers.

  “The truth.”

  “I’m screwed,” he says, groaning as I help him sit up.

  “Is it
your wound or the fever?”

  He rubs his eyes, blinks, trying to get them to focus. “You were right. That knife must have had poison on it. My heart’s racing and my blood feels like it’s full of acid, that it’s eating me alive. If that makes any sense.”

  “I’ll do another healing,” I say, reaching out with my hands. But he takes my hands and presses them together and shakes his head.

  “You’ve been healing me all night.”

  “Let me try, it can’t hurt.”

  “I’m serious, Jessie. All night, when I’d have a spasm of pain, you’d pull me closer, hold me tighter, and the pain would subside. That’s probably why you look so worn out.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Liar.” Marc pauses. “How did it go with my twin? Since I haven’t turned into a superhero, I take it he chickened out.”

  Before answering, I check out the cave where we spent the night. Li lies asleep beside a thin stream that spills from a pile of rocks near the narrow entrance and flows toward the rear of the cave, which I have yet to explore.

  Li is having her own nightmares. Twisting and turning in her sleep, she occasionally groans and whispers her sister’s name—“Lula.”

  Lying flat on his back ten yards deeper inside the cave, Chad snores loudly. Except for Li and Chad, there’s no one else around, although I can hear Sam and Kyle talking outside. I can’t pick up their exact words but it sounds like an argument.

  “I was the one who chickened out,” I reply.

  “He wanted to go ahead with it? Why didn’t you let him?”

  “It was too risky.”

  Marc struggles to hide his annoyance. “Jessie! We’re way past risk in this hellhole. You should have let him try. I mean, what do either of us have to lose?”

  I lean over and kiss him on the same spot where he kissed me last night. “Trust me, it was the right decision.”

  Marc studies me closely. “You’re with him now. We’re together.”

  I hesitate. “In a manner of speaking.”

  He sucks in a breath. “What about Jimmy?”

  “Jimmy knows.”

  “God.”

  “I thought the same thing.” I stand and offer him a helping hand. “Can you walk?”

  “I’m not dead yet,” Marc says, although he leans against me as he staggers to his feet.