The Black Knights

by Matilda Reyes

  “Give me a minute to get my things.”

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  We returned to the safe house an hour before dusk, exhausted and full of the frites that Mikael insisted on buying every couple of hours. I hadn’t quite put Nicholas and his temporary insanity out of my mind, but I’d had so much fun that he’d been irrelevant. We went to three different museums, rode along the canals, for research, of course, and had even convinced someone living in a houseboat to give us a tour of their floating abode.

  I was surprised that the other four had gotten back before us. They were lounging in the common area and greeted us. While everyone compared notes on their respective days, I slipped back into my room for a few minutes of quiet. Firing up my laptop, I changed into my modified tactical gear: sturdy dark pants and boots, a tank top, and a long-sleeved fitted shirt. My pea coat was set aside for a more practical jacket, a black bomber that better hid my concealed weapons. As soon as I had my bootlaces tied, I logged into my email and cleared out as much as possible. Thanks to Voss and Mikael, there was little that required my attention.

  The last message was from Nicholas, a scathing letter about my selfishness. He’d spoken to Esai — Esai! — and had heard all about my night alone with Jordan. He was furious that I would make him look like such a fool. Nicholas insisted that I should have either paired with Mikael or stayed back at the safe house. He was agreeing with Esai about my questionable decision-making skills.

  I lost my breath and sat down hard. Jealousy was one thing, a terrible one that had to be handled. But going behind my back and talking to Esai of all people and agreeing with him on something so fundamental? I didn’t need this. Nicholas would have to wait for a response. Or he could go to hell. I wasn’t picky.

  Closing my eyes, I tried to center myself and focus on the night’s mission. It was a straightforward plan. Bait and hook. Kill a few people, rescue Vespers, and call it a night. It was my life’s work, my passion, and I was good at it. No one would ruin this for me. Lives were at stake, and I refused to let that niggling voice in the back of my head, the one that sounded too much like Nicholas, jeopardize anyone else.

  CHAPTER TEN

  CASES OF WEAPONS LAY open in front of us. Everything from pistols to hunting knives to even, yes, hand grenades were ready for the taking. Jordan stopped us before we could dig in.

  “I packed each case by person. No one will weight themselves down with inappropriate weapons. I tried to choose ones you’re already comfortable with.”

  Bummed that I wouldn’t get a grenade, I made my way over to the case with my name on it. Inside were my favorite handguns including my Kimber and Glock. He’d also selected a handful of knives, a flashlight with a beveled head, and plenty of ammunition and he’d also been thoughtful enough to include gloves, earpieces that looked like wireless headphones, practical harnesses, and plain bags that would blend in.

  Mikael pursed his lips when he saw that no weapons had been packed for him. It was a slight that no one missed. Sighing, I unstrapped one of my three guns and handed it to him.

  “You watch my back. You go nowhere beyond my shadow.”

  He nodded and clasped my forearm, his eyes glowing. With a purposeful stride, he gathered his own belongings and took his favorite weapons out of his carry-on luggage. A harness went across his chest and waist. My gun joined his own. Knives slid into his boots and up his sleeve. He checked everything twice and returned to my side. “Your shadow.”

  My jaw dropped. He must have had a feeling that this would happen and had prepared for the possibility. Jordan watched us as he geared up, reproach written on his face. I dared him with my eyes to disagree with my actions. He said nothing, and within five minutes, we were all ready.

  We decided on a residential stretch of the Keizersgracht Canal, figuring on fewer pedestrians. If a fight were to break out, we didn’t want witnesses. I’d be forced to mind control them into forgetting anything happened. I’d done it before, and it was an exhaustive effort for me and a lot of work tracking everyone down. The plan was to leave individually and to set up around Kosuke as incognito as possible. The slight change in strategy with Mikael’s addition meant that he and I would have to pretend to be a couple.

  Jones left first, followed by Hernandez, then Jordan. Esai and Kosuke left within seconds of each other and Mikael and I brought up the rear.

  “Did you know that he would sit me out?” asked Mikael as he laced his fingers through mine.

  “No. He and I will have words over that. I made it clear that I wanted you with me. You have my back.”

  “Always,” Mikael responded with a grin. “He always behaves like this when I’m injured.” Mikael touched the thin scar across his neck where Marcus had sliced his throat earlier in the year. “He is overprotective bully.”

  “Yes, he is.” We walked along the cobblestoned street in silence, letting the crowds melt around us. Mikael’s hand became clammy as his palm pressed into mine. He gave me an embarrassed smile, wiped his hand and offered his arm instead.

  “I am nervous. We do not know if we are running into danger.”

  “Bastian and the others are waiting in the vans nearby,” I reminded him. “This team was selected to minimize the danger. Trust in them. I do.”

  We made our way to the predetermined spot and watched Kosuke amble down a short pier to the water’s edge. He knelt down and reached in to touch the water’s surface. Nothing happened for a few moments.

  “What is wrong?” hissed Mikael. “Why has he not acted? Are his powers malfunctioning?”

  “Shush,” I said, “and wait. He’s sending currents of power through the water to see if it attracts any attention before he does anything flashy.”

  Kosuke shifted so his feet hung over the dock. He scooped water into his hands and drank. I gagged. The water may have been fresh, but it wasn’t clean. The boat traffic had to have polluted the canals. He shook his hands out. The droplets hovered in the air in front of him. He flicked the closest one away and watched it drop back into the water. Smiling, he flicked the others away, one by one, until they were gone. Kosuke reached back into the water, scooped up another handful, and tilted his hand to let it fall. The water coalesced into a single stream, thin as a blade, and hovered between his hand and the surface of the canal. He raised and lowered his hand several times, the water expanding and contracting like a yo-yo.

  I turned on my hidden microphone and earpiece. “Time to get flashier,” I told him.

  Kosuke nodded. He murmured to the water. The thin line drank from the canal and thicken, beads of water running upward, lengthening and connecting like strands of a thick cord. Kosuke flicked his hand, and his wet lasso splashed into the water below. He rotated his wrist, and the liquid rope spun, dragging water with it in a circular motion. A spiral appeared, deepening with each revolution of his wrist. What little debris floated nearby in the canal was drawn in and downward, disappearing into the growing whirlpool. The undercurrent was creating small waves that disturbed the houseboats further down the canal, swaying them from side to side.

  “Ready for flashy?” he murmured.

  “We have onlookers,” said Hernandez. “One ran away. He was dressed in all black. We might have one. Give it a minute.”

  “Bastian?” called Jordan. “Bring the van a little closer and keep it running.”

  “Yes, sir,” he replied, his voice brimming with excitement. “I’m parked behind Jones. Jasper and Mikael are the farthest. They will have to run over the bridge.”

  I nudged Mikael, and we ambled to the middle of the bridge, looking down as awestruck as the other spectators. “I spy with my little eye a bald man, six feet if I had to guess, dressed in black. He’s wearing a pendant outside his shirt that looks like the cult’s symbol. He’s too far away to be sure.”

  Mikael turned me around so my back was to the man and pulled out his phone. He aimed it to take a picture of me and smiled. “It is the same. And he is walking this way.”


  “Where did they come from?” asked Esai. “The runner is back with a friend.”

  “Splash us,” I said.

  Kosuke raised his hand. The whirlpool inverted and swelled upward into a waterspout. Laughing, he made it jump from one side of the canal to the other in rapid succession. With a flourish, he slammed his hand down on his knee, and the eddy exploded, throwing water onto the streets and soaking him. He shook his hands off, and the water returned to its placid state. Kosuke stood and walked up the ramp.

  “Two on the move,” said Hernandez. He let them pass him and pursued them. Jones slid out from the shadows and paced the two men.

  The bald man made his way past us. Mikael took my hand again, and we fell in behind him. They were all closing in on Kosuke, unaware that we were herding them.

  “Bastian, other side of the street now,” barked Jordan. “Esai, with me.”

  The men converged on Kosuke and spoke in low, threatening tones. I couldn’t make out what they were saying, but Kosuke held his hands up in a gesture of helplessness.

  “I don’t know what you saw, man,” he said. “Leave me alone.”

  “You’re coming with us,” the bald man barked in an American accent. “Don’t make a scene or we will hurt you.”

  A few more paces and we were close enough to hear them. I unbuttoned my coat and rested my right hand on the handle of my gun.

  The runner reached out and grabbed Kosuke by the arm and twisted. “He may not hurt you, but I will, you freak.”

  “We can’t damage him,” argued Baldy. “He needs to be whole for the ceremony.”

  “He has time to heal,” Runner snarled.

  The third man, a thin, reedy guy in his early thirties, fidgeted. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

  The runner grunted. “Not yet. I want to have a little fun.” He punched Kosuke in the stomach, and as he doubled over, the runner kneed him in the face.

  “Now,” I said. I walked up behind Baldy and pretended to trip and fall into his back. The muzzle of my gun pressed into his spine.

  Jordan grabbed Runner by the shoulder and spun him around. He punched him in the face. Kosuke, now back on his feet, wiped the blood from his nose and reached for the third man. He turned and bolted toward the pier, apparently headed for the water, but Esai moved faster. He jumped over the low railing and dropped seven feet. He alit in front of the man and shoved him. Kosuke grabbed him from the back.

  “This doesn’t need to be difficult,” I said. “Walk with us and no one will get hurt.”

  Baldy stiffened and tried to turn around. “You’re making a mistake, little girl.”

  “There are seven of us and three of you. Your math is off,” said Jones.

  “Is it?” he asked, laughing, and let out a sharp whistle. Four other men dressed in black melted out from the background and surrounded us.

  Jordan loosed a bloodthirsty laugh. “Ah, I like this. Now we can have fun.”

  Jones, Hernandez, and Mikael took up defensive positions at our backs.

  “Remember that I tried to make this easy on you,” I told him.

  “You don’t know who you’re messing with,” sneered Baldy as he pivoted and threw an elbow at the general direction of my face. He misjudged my height and grazed the top of my head. With his other hand, he slapped at my gun, turning it away from him, and tried to wrench it out of my hand. Around us, action exploded.

  Baldy and I grappled over the weapon. His hands all but engulfed mine and crushed my fingers into the cold metal. I kicked at him, but his legs were like tree trunks. I aimed for his crotch and hit hard enough for him to loosen his grip for a fraction of a second. It was enough for me to twist his wrists and get my hands free.

  Below, Esai had been pushed over the edge of the dock and splashed into the water, and he was sputtering as he swam back over. Kosuke was evenly matched by his man as they swung it out.

  Jordan punched the man in his grasp to bloody unconsciousness with those hammers-of-the-gods fists in quick order before turning to the next attacker. Hernandez and Jones were faring almost as well, not yet overtaking their opponents, but striking with punishing accuracy.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mikael was not holding up well. He was being attacked by two men. His hands were up shielding his face, and he was backed up into a tall post. Their assault was rapid and merciless. He had no time to recover or respond. I wanted to run over and help, but Baldy took advantage of my momentary distraction and swung hard. He connected with my cheek and sent me falling to the ground. My brain rattled in my skull, and I felt the bruises forming already. My gun out of reach a few yards away, I staggered to my feet instead and faced him. He charged at me and swung again. I ducked and went to the left, punching him in the ribs as I moved. He gasped and stared down at me for half a second, shocked that I’d hurt him. I thrust out hard and connected with his cheek. He didn’t fall, but his head rocked back, and blood spilled from the corner of his mouth.

  Grunts, swears, and thuds rose around me as we battled. Baldy took a step back, reached in his jacket, and pulled out a knife.

  I had been willing to settle this as a gentleman’s fight. It was only a matter of time before we overpowered them and rescued Mikael, but Baldy made it clear that they would maim or kill. He dove at me, jabbing the knife at my chest, and sliced the front of my coat. I jumped backward, too off-balance to reach for a weapon of my own. Baldy swiped again, missing my arm by a hair’s breadth. I tripped and fell. My head slammed against the cobblestone, rocking my already tender skull.

  I heard Jordan cry out my name as Baldy reared back and kicked me in the ribs. I grunted and curled into myself. He lifted his arm and brought it down in an arc with brutal force. Heat seared my side. I cried out as blood spilled down my ribs. Bewilderment and fury battled for dominance in my brain as I rolled out of the way and lurched to my feet. Fury won out. My entire body flushed with rage and lit up like a glow stick. I threw out my hand and shot energy at his chest. Baldy screamed as his jacket and shirt melted away, and the blast scorched the skin beneath. He patted frantically, trying to put out the nonexistent flames. I set off successive bursts at his legs and knife hand. He writhed on the ground, crying out in pain.

  I turned to Mikael’s attackers and aimed for their backs. I hit the one on his left easily. The other man, alerted by the sudden scream, turned around and dove out of the way, taking a bloodied Mikael down with him. I stalked over and yanked Mikael’s body out of the way. He tumbled to the side and crawled to his feet while I stood over his assailant. “You touched mine,” I snarled as I boiled his blood.

  Beyond us, gunshots rang out. I put an arm around Mikael’s waist and dragged him behind a booth.

  “You’re bleeding,” he said, horrified.

  “Pot meet kettle much? Stay here.” I ran back toward the fracas, relieved to see that my men stood over the cult members, each in various states of disarray. Jordan barked to Jones and Hernandez to take anyone alive to the van while he grabbed Mikael and me. Kosuke and Esai checked the bodies for any identifying information as sirens wailed.

  “Move,” shouted Jordan. He ran to my side and scooped me up in his arms without stopping.

  “Mikael,” I said, not bothering to demand to be put down. My knees were weak, and my vision had blurred.

  Jordan cursed under his breath and sped toward Mikael. “Can you run?”

  Mikael grunted and sprinted alongside us, jumping into the van before it had come to a complete stop. We crowded in with the team and our two captives. As soon as the door slid closed, Bastian gunned the engine and tore out of the area.

  I tried to sit up. “Is anyone injured?”

  “Nothing major,” said Jones. “Cuts and bruises. These guys may have broken bones.”

  “Good,” I groaned. “I hope it hurts.”

  Jordan eased off my coat and swore. He demanded the first aid kit. “May I?” he murmured, gesturing to my shirt. I nodded as he pulled it up above my ribs and probed t
he slice that traveled down my right side. It started just beneath the band of my bra and went to my hip. He swore again. “Doesn’t look like he got anything major, but it’s deep. We have to keep driving for a while, so I will clean and bandage you up the best I can.”

  “Mikael,” I said. “How is he? Is anything broken?”

  “Only my pride,” he replied, his words muffled by the swelling in his face. “Quiet now. We are fine.”

  “I’m fine, too. It’s just a scratch.”

  Hernandez glanced at me. “That’s not just a scratch, boss. We’d tell you if you were being a baby about it. Even with stitches, it will take time to heal.”

  “I’ve survived worse—ow! Jordan, what the hell?”

  “I’m putting pressure on the wound. Cripes, you’re a bleeder. Someone toss me a towel.” He took one from Kosuke and used it to staunch the flow. “Did you injure anything else?”

  “Probably have a concussion,” I mumbled. “The rest are just bruises. Stop fussing.”

  “This?” Jordan barked out a laugh. “Not fussing. Not yet.”

  “I wish Nicholas were here,” said Mikael. “I’d feel better knowing that he was waiting to heal you.”

  My head jerked up. “Don’t you dare tell him. It’s none of his business.”

  Jordan’s lips twitched, but he remained quiet as he wrapped my torso with large strips of cloth and secured the towel against my right side.

  “He’s a member of the Circle, a healer, and your boyfriend, in no particular order,” said Esai, “in case you forgot.”

  “Ooh, and you… you’re the last person who should comment on my relationship. I’m ordering you to keep your fat mouth shut.”

  “You can’t order me.”

  “Just did,” I shot back. “I outrank you in every way, and I’m telling you that we are not discussing my injuries with anyone until after we get home.”

  “Drop it,” Jordan said to Esai. “That’s an order.”