Pawn's Gambit

by Darin Kennedy

  “Thanks for the tip.” Steven clambered to the wall on all fours and stared up at the shimmering shaft of darkness. Keeping as much of his body behind the shield as possible, he snaked a hand up and used the hanging pouch to protect his hand as he gripped the arrow. Despite his best efforts, the dark shaft didn’t budge.

  “Dammit. The arrow’s stuck in a stud.”

  “Maybe a bit of brute force is the answer.” Arthur pushed Steven out of the way. “This should do the trick.” The old man raised a battered old sledgehammer above his head and brought the head down upon the arrow’s barbed tip. The resultant explosion threw Arthur and Steven to the ground.

  “Arthur,” Ruth screamed.

  “I’m fine,” Arthur said. “I’ve survived worse. Didn’t help though.”

  “Crap.” Steven made his way to his feet. The blow had shattered the shaft, but left the pouch pinned to the wall by the arrow’s dark barbed tip.

  “Hurry, you two.” Grey’s voice grated with strain. “I can only maintain the Feast of Shadows for a few more seconds.”

  Yet another arrow hit the wall, this one so close, the fletching tickled Steven’s ear as it flew past.

  Arthur rose from the floor and handed the sledgehammer to Steven. “Maybe your younger hands will have better luck.”

  “The wall.” Grey made a motion like a hammer strike. “Aim for the wall.”

  “Got it.” Steven brought the ten-pound mallet above his head and a tingling sensation ran up his arm like an electric current. In a flash of silver, the sledgehammer vanished, replaced in an instant with its medieval cousin. The worn wooden handle now shining steel, the face of the hammer formed a serrated rectangle, its claw a tapering tip like the tooth of some metal monster.

  “Everybody. Heads down.” Steven brought the hammer down upon the drywall, the blow sending a shudder through the entire house and shattering the underlying wooden beam. The barbed arrowhead clattered to the floor and the pouch fell from the splintered timber and landed at Steven’s feet.

  “All right. Let’s get out of…” The hair on the back of Steven’s neck stood on end. Dropping the hammer, he spun around and raised the shield just before a trio of arrows crashed through the remnants of window glass and impacted the metallic disc, the resulting sound a triple beat of thunderous crashes.

  “Excellent,” Grey said. “Now bring the pouch and let us be away from here.”

  “It’s not over.” Ruth clutched the chain at her neck, her knuckles white around the small dragonfly pendant. “Something is happening.”

  “What is it?” Arthur asked.

  “Amaryllis,” Grey said. “I had almost forgotten.”

  “I ignored her first warning,” Ruth said. “The second was more emphatic.”

  “What are you two talking about?” Steven asked.

  A rumbling like a passing train roared outside.

  “Steven.” Grey said, his eyes wide with fear. “Get them away from here. Now.”

  “What about you?”

  “I will follow if I can.” Grey’s eyes flicked toward the rear wall of the house, the rumbling sound outside hitting a fever pitch. “The theater door in Chicago. Do you remember?”

  “I remember.”

  “The front foyer should serve your purpose well.” Grey helped Ruth and Arthur to their feet. “Find the others. Keep them safe.”

  “But—”

  The back wall of the dining room erupted inward, a battering ram of black stone protruding through at the center of the explosion.

  No, a fist. An enormous stone fist.

  Ruth screamed, blood trickling down her face where a stray piece of flying stone had grazed her scalp. Catching her as she fell to one side, Arthur stared up at Steven, his eyes filled with desperation. Another pair of arrows sailed into the room, flying like thunderbolts from the cloud of whirling shadows by the window.

  “Go.” Grey turned to face the dark conglomeration of stone. “I will find you.”

  “Come on.” Steven grabbed Ruth’s hand and dragged her and Arthur toward the front of the house.

  “What about Rex?” Arthur asked.

  “He’s coming,” Steven said. “Right behind us.”

  “He’s pulled that one before, back in ‘44,” Arthur said. “I won’t leave him again.”

  Another crash echoed from the back of the house. Steven pulled Ruth and Arthur into the foyer. “We’re out of time. We’ve got to go now.” Gripping the mouth of the pouch in his hand, he touched the bag’s warm leather to the door.

  “Take us far from here,” he whispered, turning the knob.

  Outside the Pedone front door awaited a sight both familiar and foreign. The porch and cobblestone walk remained, though at the edge of the yard, a fifteen-foot wall of black stone blocked all view of the street. Catching a flash of dark energy from atop the wall, Steven slammed the door shut just before another pair of black arrows buried their barbed tips in the door’s thick wood.

  “I must not have done it right. How did Grey—”

  An echo of the low rumbling from the back of the house sounded from beyond the door and grew in volume with each passing second.

  “Move!” Steven pushed Ruth and Arthur into the adjoining room a split second before the front door splintered inward, the foyer demolished in a horizontal avalanche of black stone.

  “Front door’s gone. Any other way out?” Before Ruth or Arthur could answer, Steven spun around and headed for the back of the house. “Scratch that. Follow me.”

  Steven led the old couple through the formal living room and into the hall, keeping his shield high as arrow after arrow flew crashing through the front window. He shouted for Grey as they passed the remnants of the once beautiful dining room. Answered only with silence, he paused at the room’s elegant entrance. The rear wall now merely a gaping hole, his mysterious rescuer was nowhere to be seen.

  “Guess that means it’s up to me,” Steven groaned.

  The rumbling from the front of the house began anew. A moment later, the mass of black stone rounded the corner and rocketed in their direction.

  “Shit.” Steven sprinted down the hall, and caught up with Ruth and Arthur at the door to their bedroom.

  “What now?” Arthur asked. “That thing’s coming for us fast.”

  “Don’t you think I know that?” Steven wiped the sweat from his brow. “Let me think.”

  With a granite roar, a tendril of black stone charged down the hall after them like an angry tongue.

  “It can’t end here.” Ruth gripped Arthur’s hand. “It can’t.”

  “Wait.” Steven grasped Ruth’s shoulder. “I remember.”

  He brushed the four corners of the door in a large X and whispered, “Anywhere but here.” A silver glow shimmered around the door’s edges. “Come on.”

  He jerked the door open onto a smoke-filled room, the air reverberating with a loud techno beat. Shoving Ruth and Arthur through the doorway, he took one look back at the rushing wall of stone and leaped through himself, slamming the door shut behind them.

  “Made it.” Steven’s vision blurred as his knees gave way beneath him.

  “Steven!” Ruth’s shout was the last thing he heard before everything went dark.

  7

  Destiny

  Steven awoke to a splitting headache, the pain flaring in time with the booming bass of AC/DC’s “Highway to Hell.” His addled mind placed him back at the club in Chicago, still waiting on the reportedly cute librarian his buddy’s wife had fixed him up with.

  “Look, dear,” came a man’s voice. “He’s coming around.”

  “Thank God.” The woman’s voice, filled with concern, sounded vaguely familiar.

  Steven raised his head from a table and gazed blearily into the eager eyes of the elderly couple seated across the booth.

  “Arthur?” he asked. “Ruth?”

  “Glad you still remember our names,” Ruth said. “We were getting worried you weren’t going to wake up.”
>
  Steven massaged his neck. “How long have I been out?”

  “About half an hour,” Arthur said. “We were letting you rest.”

  “Are you two okay?”

  “We’re all right.” Arthur locked gazes with his wife. “Considering.”

  “Wait.” Steven’s heart skipped a beat. “Where’s Grey?”

  “Rex?” Arthur shook his head. “We haven’t seen him since the attack.”

  Steven cursed under his breath. “At least I got the three of us out of there. Where did we end up anyway?”

  “Well…” Ruth peered around the darkened room, her eyes alight with amusement.

  “Coming to the stage.” A boisterous male voice came across the loudspeaker above Steven’s head. “Everyone put your hands together for… Destiny!”

  A woman in a brown Stetson and a leather coat that fell just past the top of her toned thighs strode past their table heading for the stage at the far end of the room. The five-inch heels on her knee-high boots echoed as she crossed to the brass pole at the center of the platform. An upbeat country-western tune blared from the speakers.

  “Wow,” Steven said. “When I told the pouch to take us away, this wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.”

  “It’s all right, Steven. We’re safe here, at least for the moment.” Ruth swirled the ice cubes in her glass. “Not to mention, this place has a senior discount.”

  “You can’t be serious.” A flood of memories filled Steven’s head. The swarm of arrows. The fist of stone. The dark granite ram tearing apart the Pedone home from the inside out. “Those… whatever they were. They destroyed your house.”

  “We’ll get by.” Ruth stroked her husband’s shoulder. “We always do.”

  “Don’t worry about us, Steven.” Arthur kissed his wife’s hand. “Ruthie and I have been around the block a few times.”

  Ruth wiped away the tear coursing down her cheek. “As for the house, it’s just four walls and a roof.” She patted her chest above her heart. “Everything important is here.”

  “And right here next to me. I love you, sweetheart.” Arthur pulled her close and kissed her wrinkled forehead. “Always have and always will.”

  The scent of Katherine’s hair wafted through Steven’s mind. He did his best to bury the strange envy that welled up in his heart.

  “I’m sorry. You guys are very kind, but it’s still my fault. These people are hunting me. If Grey had known what was coming, I’m sure he would’ve handled things differently.”

  “Oh, he knew,” Arthur said. “He hoped it wouldn’t come to this, but he warned us to be prepared for anything.”

  “He knew?” Steven’s face grew hot. “And he still brought me to your home?”

  Ruth brushed Steven’s hand. “It’s all right. We knew the risks when you showed up on our doorstep. Remember, we’ve known Grey a long time.”

  “Still, he could have taken us anywhere. Why would he possibly bring the enemy down on you two?”

  Ruth shrugged, an unexpected half-smile sneaking onto her face. “Sometimes things work out the way they’re supposed to. We’re just glad you’re safe. We owe you so much.”

  Arthur shot a sharp look in Ruth’s direction. “What Ruth is trying to say is we know how important it is to keep you hale and hearty. You’ve got a long road ahead of you.”

  “Speaking of long roads, Grey could’ve at least told me how much the door to door pouch travel was going to take out of me. I feel like someone let the air out of my tires.”

  Ruth smiled. “Rex took us to Paris a few years ago. Our fiftieth anniversary. Said we didn’t need to bother with any ‘silly aeroplanes.’”

  Arthur laughed. “Instead, he made us get all dressed up in our Sunday best and marched us down to the local bait and tackle shop. We both thought he was joking, that is till he opened the door and we stepped through into a French bistro.”

  “As he explained it,” Ruth said, “you’ve got to go where the power is if you want to travel. Otherwise, traveling takes it out of you instead.”

  “Sort of like jet lag on steroids. I guess that explains why we landed in that café when we first hit Maine.” Steven let out a chuckle. “Grey didn’t happen to leave a trail guide to magical doorways laying around, did he?”

  “So, Steven,” Arthur said as another dancer took the stage. “What now?”

  “I suppose we find a room for the night,” Steven said. “Any idea where we are?”

  “This is Club Sapphire, honey. Hottest girls in town and the coldest drinks.” The server held her full tray at shoulder height. The sleeve of her violet T-shirt faded into a tattooed snake coiled around her arm. She winked at Steven and flashed an amused grin. “Glad to see you back among the living, handsome.”

  “Thanks,” Steven said. “I’m starting to feel better.”

  The server scooted into the booth next to him. “Little too much to drink this evening?”

  Steven massaged his neck. “Let’s just say it’s been a rough night.”

  “So…” She eyed him quizzically. “You usually bring your grandparents along when you hit the strip club?”

  Ruth bristled. “I’ll have you know in my day, I could have danced the pants off any of these girls.” Her gaze drifted to the stage. “Not that our current entertainer seems to need any help in that respect.”

  The server’s eyes narrowed, though her face broke into a smile. “You know what? I like you. You’ve got spunk.” She rested a drink before each of them. “That’ll be twenty even.”

  Steven handed her a wad of cash. “Keep the change.”

  “You got it, gorgeous.”

  As their server headed back to the bar, Steven turned up his glass and swallowed the contents in a single gulp. “Whiskey,” he said with a shudder. “It’s like you read my mind.”

  Ruth grinned. “Thought you might need something with a little kick.”

  Steven rested his glass on the table. “So, you used to dance?”

  “Back at the beginning of time.” A wistful look crossed Ruth’s features. “I was taking ballet when Arthur and I met. Pursued it for another couple of years, but after we got married and started our family, my priorities shifted. I never looked back.”

  “My Ruthie was a sight to behold.” Arthur beamed. “Still is.”

  Ruth shot Steven a wink. “I even did burlesque for a few months not long after I met Arthur.”

  “You did burlesque?”

  She batted her eyelashes. “I wasn’t always eighty-two, Steven.”

  He laughed. “No, I guess you weren’t.”

  Arthur cleared his throat. “It’s got to be closing in on midnight, Steven. If you’ve got your legs back under you, I think we should head on.”

  Steven, Ruth, and Arthur stepped out of the club and onto a sidewalk covered in broken glass. The neon sign outside proclaimed “Club Sapphire, The Hottest Babes in Baltimore.” The competing stenches of cigarette smoke and urine nearly made Steven retch.

  “At least we ended up on the good side of town.”

  “There’s got to be a motel or something around here.” Arthur peered down the street and Steven followed his gaze. The only lodging in this part of town most likely charged by the hour. “Maybe we should—”

  “Arthur.” Ruth grabbed her husband’s arm, her gaze trained down the alleyway between the club and the dilapidated cigarette store next door. “We should go back inside.”

  “What’s is it, Ruth?” A phlegmy cough from behind them sent a chill up Steven’s back.

  “Hand over your wallets,” came a voice from the darkness. “And whatever else you’ve got on you.” A form emerged from the shadows by the dumpster. Dressed in oversized jeans and a baggy football jersey, the man face remained hidden within his yellow hoodie.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Steven stepped in front of Ruth and Arthur. “Look, man. This isn’t—”

  “I don’t have all fucking night,” the man grunted. “Now give it.”

/>   “Listen, young man,” Arthur said. “All we have with us are the clothes on our backs.”

  “Don’t try and bullshit me, Grandpa. Club Sapphire has a ten-dollar cover.” The man from the shadows cocked his head to the side. “You got enough money to watch those bitches shake their asses, you got something for me. Don’t make me take it from you.”

  “All right,” Steven said. “Give me a second. Just don’t hurt anybody.” He reached for his wallet, shifting the pawn icon in his pants pocket to hide it from view.

  “Hey,” the mugger grunted. “What you got there?”

  “Nothing. Just let me get my wallet and you can go on your way.”

  The mugger drew closer. “Let me see what’s in your pocket.”

  Steven’s eyes narrowed. “You really don’t want to do this.”

  Arthur stepped forward. “Now, see here, young man—”

  The man grabbed Steven’s shirt and jammed the business end of his pistol up under his jaw, sending Steven’s heart into overdrive. Arthur raised both hands and backed away, stepping between the mugger and his wife. Ruth gasped, but wisely kept her silence.

  “Do I look like I want to talk?” The mugger pulled back the hammer on his pistol. “Now, show me what’s in your pocket, or I swear I’ll get it myself and trust me—you don’t want that.”

  “All right.” Steven reached into his pocket and wrapped his fingers around the pawn icon. A subtle vibration in the cool marble he hadn’t noticed before sent a tingle through his fingers. “I’m getting it for you, okay?”

  “Slow, man. Slow.” The man backed away as Steven brought the icon out, its white marble shimmering subtly in the darkness. “Now, give me it.”

  The pale light of the icon revealed the figure from the shadows was just a kid, no more than nineteen. Regardless, the gun trained on Steven’s midsection remained steady.

  This definitely wasn’t the kid’s first rodeo.

  “Here. Take it.” Steven handed the pawn to the robber who took it greedily, never taking his eyes or gun off Steven.

  “What the hell is this supposed to be?” The man examined the marble icon. “Looks like some kind of chess piece.”