The Memphis Knights

by Phillip Drayer Duncan

  I took another nervous look around the room myself. It was still just the two of us, of course, but her concern was valid. I hadn’t even considered it. We still didn’t know what the other hot sigils did. We had assumed they were traps, but it was very possible they’d set one up to report back to them. They could’ve been watching.

  I moved toward the door. “Let’s talk to Uriah.”

  “You want to tell him?” she asked.

  “He deserves to know,” I said, nodding. “He deserves to know what they did to his father... To his family.”

  “It’ll kill him. I can’t imagine what I’d do if I was my family.”

  “I can’t either, but that’s for him to decide. At the very least, he needs to know what we’re up against. What we found.”

  She gave me a glum nod. “Then we can figure out what to do about the rest of it.”

  “Right,” I agreed.

  We stepped into the hallway and moved into the living room. Uriah and his fellow Knights were scattered around the couches chatting as we walked in.

  As soon as he saw us Uriah jumped to his feet. “What did you find? Tell me you found something. You’ve been in there forever.”

  “Maybe we should speak privately,” Eilidh said in a low voice.

  Uriah motioned for the other Knights to step out, and once more, Hamish and the others marched out the front door. Tooter stayed sat on the couch.

  “It might be best if we had complete privacy,” I suggested.

  Uriah shook his head. “Tooter stays. He’s my brother. I trust him above all.”

  “All right,” I said. I got it. I wouldn’t have sent Axel out. “We did find something.”

  “What? What is it?”

  “Uriah, something things are better left unknown,” Eilidh said. “Once we tell you what we found, we can’t un-tell you. It will burn in your heart for the rest of your days.”

  “She’s right,” I said. “What happened in that room... If I had known what we’d discover, I may not have gone in. And it wasn’t my family, Uriah.”

  Uriah stared between the two of us, perhaps trying to read something from our grim expressions.

  Tooter lifted his massive bulk up from the couch and moved to stand alongside his best friend.

  “Will it help us find the killer?” Uriah asked. “Will knowing help us find them?”

  Eilidh and I shared a look. I answered. “I don’t know.”

  “Maybe,” Eilidh said. “But I don’t think so.”

  “They left something,” I said. “Something we believe they intended for another mage to find. Something they wanted us to find.”

  “They?” he asked. “There was more than one?”

  “Three dark wizards,” I said. “Three very powerful maleificars.”

  “And a fourth person,” Eilidh added. “A fourth person who we believe was known to your father.”

  “Someone he knew?” Uriah asked.

  “Someone he may have trusted,” I said. “They were careful not to give anything away, but the indication is that someone lured your father here. So, yeah, we think it may have been someone he trusted.”

  “How can you know all this?” he asked, glancing between us. “How can you know?”

  Eilidh and I shared another glance. I took a calming breath and said, “They left a recording. It was hidden in the sigils painted on the walls.”

  “A recording?” he asked. “Of the murder?”

  “Not just a murder, Uriah,” I said, shaking my head. “It’s so much worse than that. I don’t even have the words.”

  “Nor I,” Eilidh said, her voice near panic. “Please, Uriah, listen to me... Don’t ask us to show you. Please.”

  Uriah looked at me. “You feel the same?”

  “Absolutely,” I said. “I know you want to. I know I’d want to, and I doubt I’d take ‘no’ for answer, but listen to her, Uriah. I wouldn’t wish this on anyone. It’s not worth it. Even if it helps us find the killer it isn’t worth it.”

  Again, he searched our faces. It struck me, then, that Uriah was a wise man. The brackishness I’d seen in him earlier was part sham. He wasn’t a fool. He was careful and conscious of all we told him, weighing our words carefully. Yet, our path was already set before us. I knew it and so did he.

  “You know I have to see it,” he said simply, his eyes staring off into space.

  “I know,” I said.

  “You understand why?”

  “Of course.”

  He turned to Tooter. “We’re going in there. Don’t let anyone come in the room. I don’t care who it is.”

  “You got it,” Tooter replied, but then a roar of engines sounded from outside.

  Bikes. Lots of bikes, I realized. Turning to the window, I saw a sea of bikes coming down the street.

  “Goddammit,” Uriah said. “It’ll have to wait. Victor and the others are here.”

  “Don’t tell them,” I said, glancing at everyone. “Let’s keep this to ourselves, at least for the moment.”

  “Victor won’t like that,” Tooter said. “He won’t like us withholding information from him.”

  “You heard the Blade Mage,” Uriah said. “Someone betrayed my father. It wasn’t someone from the club, we know that, but I want to see it before Victor. Before we do anything.” He glanced back out the window again, then back at Eilidh. “Looks like your fellow witches are here too.”

  “Damn,” Eilidh said. “I’m in trouble.”

  “Don’t tell them either,” I said, glancing at her. “Right now, only the four of us know about this. Let’s keep it that way for the moment. At least until we can all agree on the right course of action.”

  Uriah nodded. “Okay.”

  “Fine,” Eilidh said, but she clearly didn’t like it.

  “Brace yourself, Blade Mage,” Uriah said, glancing my direction. “The Seneschal and acting Commander of the Memphis Knights is here, and he’s a big fan of mages.”

  “Oh, goodie,” I replied.

  Chapter 12

  Bikes stretched from one side of the yard to the other. It was clear who they were, but if anyone in the neighborhood had any doubt, one look at logo on their on their leathers made it pretty clear. Each of the Knights wore the skull with the cross on its forehead with pride. As they should. They had to earn their cut and the right to wear it.

  There had to be close to thirty of them, in all. Most gathered around in the front yard like they’d casually shown up for a barbecue. Well, casual except for the fact most had guns holstered to their hips and big ass swords strapped to their backs.

  The front door opened, and part of the horde poured inside. Along with the Knights, there were four women who looked rather out of place among the rough-cut bikers. The one in the front was a plump elderly woman with kind smile. Behind her, were three middle-aged women in casual dress wear. They weren’t smiling. These, I presumed, were the witches.

  An angry-looking man with a patch over one eye led the march. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and despite looking to be in his early sixties, my money said he could hold his own in a scrap. As his good eye fell on us, I realized the side of his face with the patch was horribly scarred. I guessed this was Victor. I guessed right.

  As soon as he laid eyes on Uriah, he stomped toward him. “What do you think you’re doing, Uriah?”

  Uriah folded his arms over his chest and met the man’s gaze. “Seeing if we can uncover anything about my father’s murder. What are you doing, Victor?”

  “I heard you were attacked,” Victor said, glancing him over. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Why aren’t you at the club house?” he asked. “I ordered you to stay there.”

  “You aren’t the President of this club, yet,” Uriah said, his temper flaring. He hooked a thumb in my direction. “The Blade Mage just arrived. I wanted to meet him in private to see what I thought. When I decided he was cool, I brought him here to see the murder scene.”

>   “You went out alone,” Victor said. “You could’ve been killed.”

  “I’m a Knight of the Cross. Every day I could be killed.”

  “But every day you don’t have wizards looking to do you in. For all we know, this whole thing could’ve been setup by the Cabal.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Uriah said, shaking his head. “Your mistrust of wizards runs too deep.”

  “How can you say that?” the older man asked. “After what just happened to your father, how can you say that?”

  “Because I haven’t allowed my emotions to cloud my judgment. Just because a mage killed my father doesn’t mean all mages are bad. You know this.”

  Victor turned and gave me a once over, then turned back to Uriah. “I haven’t met one yet I’d trust. They don’t follow the path of the Lord.”

  “They don’t have to,” Uriah said with a wry chuckle. “Not everyone has to follow our way, Victor. Other people can believe other things, and still be good people.”

  “That’s the problem with you, younger lot. Can’t stand by your principles.”

  “If that was true, I wouldn’t have this sword,” Uriah said, touching the hilt of the blade on his back. “You know that’s true.”

  As they continued arguing, the older woman stepped closer to Eilidh. “And you, just what are you up to?”

  “Uriah asked me to check it out,” she said, shrugging. “That’s what we came here to do, isn’t it?”

  “Except I distinctly remember telling you to stay back at the clubhouse and out of trouble.”

  “I’m not a child,” Eilidh said, her eyes hardening.

  “Yet, you still act like one,” the old woman said.

  “Yeah,” Eilidh said, shrugging. It didn’t seem she had anything else to say to defend herself.

  I sighed and glanced at an elderly man who stood behind Victor. “This is why I normally try to avoid domestic disputes. It’s just uncomfortable for everyone.”

  The old man chuckled, but before he could reply, Victor whirled on me. “You’re the Blade Mage.”

  He eyed me up and down, assessing my worth like I was a steak at the butcher.

  I offered him my hand and said, “Wyatt Draven.”

  He stared down at my hand but didn’t take it. Looking back up at me, he said, “You can return to your Cabal. We can handle this ourselves. We don’t need mages.”

  “No, you can’t,” I replied, feeling a bit annoyed myself. “And yes, you do. In fact, after seeing the murder scene, I’d strongly suggest you reconsider your club’s position altogether. Call in some additional help. If not from my Cabal, then one of the other guilds.”

  “Absolutely not,” he said, glaring at me. “You’re Connor Draven’s boy, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “If that weren’t the case, I’d drag you out of city by your ears. Never met a mage I trusted, but your old man was all right. And you ended up with his sword, didn’t you?”

  “I did.”

  “Then I’ll tolerate your presence, for now.” He glanced at the witches. “Them too. But I don’t want any more mages in our city. Not until we find the bastards who did this.”

  “And how’s that investigation going?” I asked. “Any leads?”

  The elderly witch answered first. “Not so much. What do you make of the scene?”

  “It’s terrible,” I replied, but said no more.

  “Yes, we’re still working to determine the purpose behind all those sigils. It’s strange, isn’t it?”

  “It is,” I said, then stuck out my hand. “Wyatt Draven, Blade Mage of the Ozark Mountain Cabal.”

  She took it gently in her own. “Yes, of course you are. There are few, I think, in the supernatural world who haven’t heard your name, young man. It is a pleasure.”

  “I’m not sure that’s a compliment.” I forced a smile.

  “You’re the Blade Mage who disappeared,” she said, shrugging as though she weren’t slapping me with a backhanded compliment. “Then you returned with a lot of noise.”

  Apparently, I did a poor job hiding my surprise.

  “There are rumors,” she continued, “they say you were summoned back to execute a childhood friend for a heinous murder. Instead, you uncovered a grand conspiracy and hunted down the actual killer.”

  One of the women beside her rolled her eyes and said, “Yes, there was something about a wicked witch and even a demon.”

  “Ah, yes,” the older woman said with a wry grin. “And then more recently there’s a tale circulating about your involvement with a Revenant, of all things. They say you faced down an army of shadow, even. Quite the stories circulating about you, young man.”

  There was something about the way she said, and the mocking laughter of the other witch that kind of pissed me off. I guess the game was to belittle the poor Blade Mage in front of everyone. Still, I held my peace.

  “Oh, don’t be surprised, dear,” she said, patting me on the shoulder. “These tales tend to grow out of proportion. Still, though, your exploits have been whispered across the country. There must be something to them, no?”

  “You know how it is,” I said, forcing a shrug. “Just stories. I didn’t catch your name, by the way.”

  “I am Sister Betran of the Colonial Coven, dear.”

  There was an air to the way she said it that indicated I should recognize her name. I didn’t.

  “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” I said, again summoning a smile. See, I could be civilized.

  “And I trust Miss Eilidh wasn’t any trouble?”

  “No,” I replied, glancing at Eilidh who was hiding under her hood. I caught the slightest hint of redness on her cheeks. Turning back to Sister Betran, I asked, “Should she have been?”

  “Not at all,” said the witch, laughing as though the very idea were silly. “She’s just a wayward child at times.”

  “Eilidh,” I said, glancing her way. “How old are you?”

  “Twenty-eight,” she replied with little more than a mumble.

  “Well, perhaps that’s the problem then,” I said, grinning at the elder witch. “She’s not a child, is she? Perhaps that’s where the trouble lies.”

  “If only you knew,” Sister Betran said with a dramatic wave, not bothering to acknowledge my meaning for what it was.

  Another of witches stepped forward then and offered me her hand. She was a little older than the others, but not yet a crone like Sister Betran. At first glance, I’d thought she was younger, but on closer inspection I realized she was probably in her late forties or early fifties. There were dark rings under her eyes, and it looked like she hadn’t slept in days. “I’m Sister Anna. It’s nice to meet you, Blade Mage.”

  “You can just call me Wyatt,” I said, reaching out to shake her hand. So, this was Abner’s estranged girlfriend and the reason the other witches had come. Despite the fact she was a suspect, I kept my demeanor neutral. “And it’s nice to meet you as well.”

  “That’s very kind,” she said. “I was just wondering if you found anything of use when you surveyed the scene.”

  “Not yet,” I lied.

  “Oh, Anna,” Sister Betran said, throwing an arm over the woman’s shoulder. “Dear, we have here some of the finest sleuths among our Coven. How pray would one man, even the Blade Mage, have unraveled the mystery, if we ourselves have not?”

  Ouch. Sister Betran was kind of a bitch.

  But she made a good point. I wasn’t the greatest detective in the world, nor was I strongest mage. Eilidh wasn’t either. If the old witch and her sisters were more powerful than me, which I suspected they were, why hadn’t they found what we’d found? I mean, it hadn’t been easy, but clearly it was intended to be discovered. So, why hadn’t they?

  Our conversation was interrupted as Victor and Uriah’s conversation spiraled into an argument once more. I wasn’t even sure what they were fighting about at this point.

  A man about my age tried to ease between them. In
a soft voice, he said, “Come on, guys.”

  The way he glanced between the two of them, it was clear he was very uncomfortable with the exchange. More so than many of the others.

  “Stay out of this, Allistair,” Victor said, not taking his eyes off Uriah.

  “Dad, this is ridiculous,” he said. “You two shouldn’t be arguing. Uriah is like a son to you. He’s like a brother to me.”

  “And I’m your father,” Victor said, whirling on Allistair. “And you will do as I tell you.”

  Allistair reddened and lowered his head.

  I studied his face and realized that if you added twenty-five years, some scars, and removed one eye, he’d look an awful lot like Victor, actually. Another son then. My guess was he probably wasn’t a big fan of mages either. He’d lost a brother to dark sorcery, after all.

  Allistair may have been Victor’s son but he didn’t seem to have the same harsh demeanor. And his attempt to end the conflict had been swatted aside like a bug.

  However, where Allistair failed, the older man I’d smiled at before stepped between the two angry men and said, “Let us not continue this bickering here, my brothers. We are each of us carrying a heavy heart. Might we continue the discussion later?”

  The two men stared at each other for a moment, then Victor said, “Yes, of course, Chaplain Brother. Your council is wise as always.”

  Uriah took a calming breath and said, “Yeah, you’re right. We can pick this up later.”

  “Good,” said the Chaplain Brother with a smile. He placed a hand on each of their shoulders. “It is important to remember that we’re all brothers, both in the patch and in the eyes of the Lord. Brother Abner wouldn’t want to see us tear each other apart. He would want us to stick together.”

  “Of course,” Victor said, then flicked a glance at Uriah. “We should be getting back to the clubhouse. All of us. We have the wake party this evening.”

  Uriah scowled. “Right. I almost forgot.”

  “I don’t like it any more than you do,” Victor said. “But Sullivan has been a long time investor in our club. He thought a great deal of your father. For the club’s sake, I think we can put up with him and the others for one night.”