The Memphis Knights

by Phillip Drayer Duncan

  The Cabal had people on staff to maintain the house for visitors. In the morning, an elderly gentleman in a suit came around to inform me that Parker was waiting for me downstairs. So, I took my time and had a hot shower while I tried to remember everything they’d told me about the Knights the evening before. I didn’t remember much. It was a bit of information overload.

  Once dressed and ready to go, with Drynwyn secured on my back, I grabbed my duffel bag and finally made my way downstairs to where Parker waited.

  “Your ride is here,” he said. “Waiting outside.”

  “So, I guess this is where we part ways?” I asked. It’s possible I might’ve sounded pleased.

  “It is,” he said.

  I forced a sigh. “I hate long goodbyes.”

  “Piss off, Wyatt,” he said, but actually managed a smile. “Be careful out there, all right?”

  “I will,” I said. “I’m not a complete amateur.”

  He snorted. “Just play it cool. Don’t cause any trouble and don’t get in any trouble.”

  “You know me,” I said, heading for the door.

  “That’s what I’m worried about.”

  “You sound like a cliched nanny,” I said over my shoulder. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

  I let myself out the door before he could answer.

  Outside, I found a jacked up four door Jeep Wrangler parked beside the SUV. It had mud tires that stood as tall as my chest and the whole vehicle was painted in camouflage. Best of all, there was a deer skull attached to the front of the hood.

  I glanced back toward the house, but Parker had already closed the door.

  From the Jeep, a familiar voice yelled, “Hey, Wyatt!”

  I turned back to the hillbilly death machine and squinted my eyes, trying to discern who the driver was. I felt the smile spread across my cheeks as I recognized him.

  “Hey, Hamish!” I said, strolling toward his Jeep. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “I’m your tour guide!” he replied with a big grin. “Hadn’t you heard? We Pattersons work for the Knights now.”

  “No kidding,” I said. Well, at least there’d be one friendly face around.

  Hamish and his family, the Pattersons, were Satyrs. Goat People. Until I walked into their lives they lived in solitude in the hills just outside of Branson, Missouri. I first met them when I was tracking down the Obayifo and some of their siblings betrayed the family to join up with her. The bastards even killed their own father. Hamish and the rest of his kin joined me in taking down the witch and their errant siblings. He acted as though he owed me for that, but as far as I was concerned, we were square. Without their help, the rest of us would’ve been toast.

  I reached in through the open window and shook his hand. “How have you been?”

  “Good, man,” he said, then his grin dissipated. “At least until this shit with Abner happened. I told them we needed to get you on the case. Told them the Blade Mage could find the killer.”

  “You recommended me?” I asked.

  “Of course,” he said, as though it should’ve been obvious. “Get in. I’ll explain on the way.”

  I moved around to the passenger side and opened the door. There was a little a hanging step I had to climb up to get in. The seats had been replaced with some kind of off-road bucket seat, and it took me a minute to figure out how to buckle the seat belt across my chest.

  “How do you like my ride?” He asked, grinning again.

  “It’s... something,” I replied.

  “Watch this!” he said, then threw the jeep in reverse. Hamish hammered down on the gas and slung rocks in every direction. Several of them smacked against the Cabal’s SUV. I approved.

  With a squeal of delight, he jammed it into drive and hammered the gas again. More rocks flew as he we sped out the driveway. The roar of the engine was so incredibly loud I didn’t even bother trying to talk to him again until we were out on the highway.

  “So, how long have you been working for the Knights?”

  “Oh, not long after the incident with my backstabbing ass brother,” he said. “Staying in the old place didn’t seem the same with the old man gone. Plus, we all kind of agreed we wanted to do more. We were tired of being recluses. So, your pal Stone set us up with the Knights.”

  “Stone knows the Knights?” I asked.

  “Of course,” Hamish said, laughing. “Stone knows everyone. You heard from him recently?”

  “No,” I said, shaking my head. “Do you know how to get a hold of him?”

  “Nope,” he said, then paused to focus while he sped around a mini-van. “Stone gets a hold of you. You don’t get a hold of Stone.”

  “Right. So, you like working with the Knights?”

  “Hell yeah, man. They’re good people. Especially, Uriah. He’s one of the Road Captains. Abner’s son. He’s who we’re going to meet.”

  “Sounds good,” I said, then decided to broach the important topic. “What can you tell me about the murder?”

  “It was bad, man. Real Bad.” Hamish paused for a second and I didn’t rush him. “They found him in his own home. He was mutilated.”

  “That bad?” I asked.

  “They crucified him, Wyatt. Drove nails through his hands and feet. Nailed him to the wall. Then they put out his eyes. Gave him a crown of thorns too. Looks like they tortured him for hours.”

  “Damn,” I said, trying not to picture it. “And why do they think magic was involved?”

  “The whole room was covered in sigils. And the spikes they nailed him up with. Then there was the whole part with the crown. We couldn’t remove it. Anyone who touched it got burned. It’s still on his head, even now.”

  “And no leads?”

  “Not a one,” he said, shaking his head. Then he smiled again. “But you’re here now, so that’s bound to change.”

  I forced a smile, not feeling as confident as my goat friend.

  What the hell had I gotten myself into?

  Chapter 5

  Hamish didn’t let off the gas until we were in downtown Memphis. It was late enough that we missed the morning traffic but early enough we didn’t have to deal with the lunch crowd. We were cruising down B.B. King Boulevard when Hamish turned down an alley called ‘General Washburn’s Escape Alley’.

  I said the name aloud and raised an eyebrow at Hamish.

  “From the Civil War,” he explained. “There was a surprise attack on the city. They say General Washburn made his escape down this alley, still wearing his pajamas.”

  “Well, this town does have some interesting street names.”

  “This the first time you’ve been to Memphis?”

  I shook my head. “I’ve been through a few times. Never for a long stay.”

  “Ah, it’s a colorful place. I’m not much on cities, as you might imagine, but Memphis is all right with me.”

  “Yeah, I’m not big on them either. I’m a country boy at heart,” I said. Then, remembering the vehicle I sat in, added, “Though, not nearly as much as you and yours.”

  Hamish chuckled. “We got a place across the line in Arkansas. It isn’t the old bomb shelter, but it allows most of the family to stay out of sight. We only come to town for work.”

  He pulled into a parking garage and parked in a ‘reserved’ space right beside a sleek Harley Davidson. I don’t know shit about bikes, but I could appreciate the aesthetics. Black matte with chrome. I whistled my approval as I stepped out of the Jeep.

  “Uriah’s already here,” he said, then swore.

  “Something wrong?” I asked.

  “Looks like he came alone,” Hamish said, shaking his head. “After what happened to his old man, he should be traveling with a posse. At least his Tail Gunner.”

  I didn’t know enough about his organization to comment, but I understood the concern. Whoever had killed Uriah’s father might want him dead too. Traveling alone wasn’t wise.

  Following Hamish, I noticed that he
wore black combat pants and heavy boots, which managed to hide his goat legs. At most, a random person might notice that he had a strange gait. Otherwise, you couldn’t tell he had hooves.

  He led me toward an unmarked door at the back of a tall building. I had no idea where we were.

  “I hope you’re hungry,” Hamish said, as though he were reading my thoughts. He knocked on the door and glanced back at me. “This place has the best barbecue in the city.”

  Before I could reply, a young man answered the door and beckoned us inside. He led us through a small hallway and down a set of stairs which led into a seating area that almost reminded me of an old pub, minus the checkered table clothes that screamed barbecue restaurant.

  Clearly the place hadn’t opened for business yet. My guess was they opened the doors closer to lunch time, but apparently the Memphis Knights got early access. This was something I was going to have to point out to the Cabal. We didn’t have any special barbecue privileges I was aware of.

  In the back corner of the restaurant, a lone man sat in a booth by himself with a half empty glass of beer. We wizards invented the art of brooding, but apparently the Templars were practiced in it as well. Of course, considering his father had just been brutally murdered, he probably needed a good brood. I sure as hell did when my old man passed.

  Uriah Abner wore a plain white t-shirt, jeans, and riding boots. I could appreciate his simplistic style. His hair was cut short but he’d been a few days without a shave. By most standards, I think he’d be considered ruggedly handsome. Not as good looking as me, of course, but a handsome enough chap.

  His black leather jacket was draped over a long object which was leaned against the booth seat beside him. The symbol on the jacket was of a white human skull with the Templar’s red cross painted on its forehead. I took this to be their official cut.

  Near the floor, I could just see the end of the scabbard. Based on that alone, I guessed it to be a pretty damned big sword.

  Uriah looked up as we approached, his eyes bloodshot and red-rimmed. Yet, there was an intensity and strength to those eyes. Here was a busted up man, but not a broken one.

  “Hey, Uriah,” Hamish said as we approached.

  Uriah stood up from his seat and shook Hamish’s hand without reply. Then he turned toward me and stuck out his hand. He had a red Templar’s cross tattooed on his forearm.

  As I met his firm grip, Hamish motioned toward me and said, “This is—”

  “The Blade Mage,” Uriah said. His voice was deeper than I’d expected and a little scratchy. He squeezed my hand tight and said, “Thank you for coming.”

  “No problem,” I said. Then in the most awkward way possible, I added, “Sorry for your loss.”

  “Did you kill him?” he asked in a husky voice, his eyes still on mine.

  “What?” I asked. The seriousness in his tone threw me off.

  “Did you kill my old man?”

  “Uh, no,” I said.

  “Then you don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

  “Right,” I agreed, then shrugged. “I don’t know what to say in these types of situations. That seemed like standard practice. At least I think that’s what normal people say.”

  His scowl faltered and the hint of a boyish smile appeared. He motioned for us to take a seat and said, “Yeah, I never know what the fuck to say either. I appreciate the sentiment. Please, sit down.”

  As soon as we were seated a waiter came around and asked Hamish and I what we wanted to drink. Since it was a barbecue restaurant, I felt the only appropriate option was sweet tea.

  As the waiter stepped away, Uriah said, “So, you’re the Blade Mage.”

  “For my sins,” I replied, forcing a smile.

  “Hamish tells me you did him a big favor,” he said, motioning toward the satyr.

  “Damn right,” Hamish replied.

  “I wouldn’t go that far,” I said, feeling a bit awkward. I’ve never done well taking praise. “He did me as good a turn. If he and his family hadn’t shown up when they did, I’d have been dead several times over. That’s the truth of it.”

  “Still,” Uriah said, holding my gaze. “You helped him get revenge for his father’s murder.”

  I stared back at him for a few moments, thinking on my reply. Finally, I asked, “Is that what you want, Uriah? Revenge?”

  The biker, slash holy warrior, stared at me for a few moments, then closed his eyes. “Do not take revenge, my dear friends, but leave room for God’s wrath, for it is written. ‘It is mine to avenge; I will repay’, says the lord. Romans 12:19.”

  He took a deep breath and opened his eyes once more, but just then the waiter returned with our drinks. Behind him, another waiter came bearing a platter of food.

  My stomach growled as they set a whole rack of ribs on the table. The smell made me a little dizzy. It was intoxicating. Way better than the muffins and gas station garbage from the night before. And they brought mac n cheese, corn, beans, and bread. I was in heaven.

  “Dry rub,” Uriah said. “That’s how we do barbecue in Memphis. Dig in.”

  I didn’t have to be told twice. Neither did Hamish.

  “The folks here have always been a friend to the club,” Uriah explained while we started stuffing our faces. “Going back long before I was born.”

  “You guys have a lot of local support?” I asked.

  He nodded. “Yeah, for the most part. We take care of the things that creep out of the shadows. People tend to be grateful for that sort of thing. But you don’t need me to tell you that, right?”

  I paused, my mouth full of delicious rib meat. I swallowed it down and chased it with a sip of tea. “Look, I have to level with you, Uriah. I can’t promise I’ll be able to find the killer. In truth, I’m probably not the best wizard to look into it. There’s other’s in the Cabal who are trained specifically for this type of thing.”

  He held my gaze but didn’t reply.

  I went on. “Don’t get me wrong, I’ve got some experience, but I’m not actively engaged with the Cabal’s investigations. You guys would be better off asking the Archmage to spare you one of his Shamuses, or team of experienced constables and seekers. Get a proper magical sleuth involved.”

  “I know that,” Uriah said, nodding at me. “I know all about you, Wyatt. Not just what Hamish tells me either.”

  I stared at him for a few seconds, then glanced to Hamish who just shrugged.

  “I didn’t ask you here with unrealistic expectations,” Uriah said. “I know that the Cabal pretty much cast you out. I asked you here because the sword chose you. You’re a Paladin, just like me. Maybe not by choice, but our calling is the same. The sword wouldn’t have chosen you if you couldn’t be trusted, and that’s what I need. A mage I can trust.”

  “Oh,” I said, feeling like a fool.

  “And I figured there was a chance you might find something,” Uriah said, shrugging. “But to tell you the truth, I don’t think the killer is done. It’s just my gut feeling. I think they’ll come after me or someone else in the club. If they do, I’d like to have you standing beside me.”

  “Fair enough,” I said. “But you’re putting an awful lot of faith in someone you don’t know.”

  “No, I’m not,” he said, shaking his head. “The sword chose you, Wyatt. Some folks may have forgotten what that means, but I haven’t. Besides, my old man always spoke very highly of your father. They were friends, did you know that?”

  “No,” I admitted. “I knew my dad did some work with the Knights, but he never told me much about his day job. Now, I wish he would’ve, but it’s not like he knew I would end up with his sword.”

  “Well, you did,” Uriah said. “I met him a few times. Long before I was a Knight, though.”

  “You grew up in this world, same as me, didn’t you?”

  “I did,” he agreed. “Wanted to be a Knight from the time I could walk. It’s what my old man wanted too. Hell, it’s in the name, even. Abner means ‘My fa
ther is a light.’ That was my dad’s first name. He named me Uriah because it means ‘God is my light.’ My grandfather was one of the order, as well. Our family name goes back to the beginning.”

  “Wow, I didn’t know that.”

  “Yeah, well, as a teen I rebelled a little. Ran with the wrong crowd. Played in a band for a minute. Got into some trouble. Ended up joining the army. Did a couple tours in Iraq and a another in Afghanistan. Then I came home and realized this was my true calling.”

  “I can understand that,” I said, nodding along. “I haven’t really gotten to the part where I circle back around to it, though. I’m a bit of slow learner.”

  “You’re here now, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah, well, if you know as much about me as you say, then you know the Cabal doesn’t have a lot of love for this particular errant son.”

  This time he laughed. “Well, that makes two of us. There’s plenty among the Knights who’d like to see my patch stripped. Others think I should be my father’s successor.”

  “What do you think?”

  “I could ask you the same question about yourself.”

  “Fair enough,” I said as I picked up another rib. “You think our fathers had the same problem at our age? I can’t imagine my dad at thirty years old, still trying to figure out where he fit in the world.”

  “Nah, they were a different breed. They made em better back then.”

  “That’s the truth,” I said, holding my glass up to his.

  “You know what my dad would say to you, Wyatt? He’d say, forget what the other wizards think. You’ve got a magic sword. Cut your own damned path.”

  I couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah, I think my dad would have a similar sentiment.”

  “And they’d both be right,” he said, chuckling to himself.

  His eyes drifted to the table and I could tell he was thinking about his father. About how he’d never see him again. About how the person he looked up to the most was gone. I knew that look. I’d seen it in the mirror a time or two.