Darkest Knight. Karen Duvall
and pointed. “There.”
Impossible. The house had burned to the ground. Nothing could have survived that.
“Can you show me?” I asked her.
She shook her head. “That’s what I see. The house. And a darkness so black it’s as if he’s blind.”
“Is he?”
“No.”
Which meant some part of the house had been protected from the fire. “I’ll go look.”
“Be careful,” Natalie said.
No one needed to tell me that, but I still promised, “I will be.”
Seeing the charred remains of furniture and other household stuff tossed here and there reminded me of the Vyantara fatherhouse that had blown up soon after I’d summoned my fallen angel father. But there were no scattered charms and curses here, and thankfully no ghosts, either. Just ruined pieces of a family that had probably lived here for generations.
As I weaved through the smoldering ruins, I visualized the dissolving of walls that guarded my senses. The first sound I heard was a sobbing child. The boy had breath enough to cry and that lightened my heart with relief.
I squinted through the lingering smoke. No auras were visible, and therefore nothing alive that I could see. The boy’s crying sounded weak, but I could still feel it through the soles of my boots. He was below ground. I sniffed the air and, although it was heavily scented with the smell of burned wood and plastic, a subtle aroma of soap and shampoo wafted through. The bathrooms above ground had been destroyed, which meant the scent came from the boy.
“What’s his name?” I called to Natalie, who stood at a safe distance.
“Timmy.”
“Timmy?” I called out. “Can you hear me?”
I heard coughing, then a murmured reply I couldn’t make out. He began sobbing quietly again.
“Can you knock on something for me?” I asked, following the trail of muted sound to what must have been the kitchen. A blackened refrigerator lay on its side. “Knock on the wall or the floor. Anything.”
No answer.
And no more crying.
I hoped we weren’t too late. Where was the boy’s family? Why was he left here alone?
My vision could penetrate thin surfaces like paint and paper, even some fabrics. But the solid objects around me were too dense. However, I did manage to see through the black ashes covering the floor and noticed the outline of a door. A cellar door. And the charred refrigerator lay directly on top of it.
I crouched down to try pushing it off, but it was way too heavy for me. Timmy was down there; I could hear him breathing, but only barely.
“Natalie, I found him!” I called out. “He’s in the basement, but I can’t get to him. There’s a refrigerator blocking the door.”
“Help should have been here by now!” she yelled back, and I heard the Jeep’s door slam shut. “Hang tight, I’ll take care of it.” The engine started, followed by the sound of tires crunching over snow.
I kept pushing at the fridge, but it hardly budged. Whatever had been inside leaked out onto the blackened linoleum in a dark putrid mess. I closed my eyes to concentrate. Timmy was still breathing.
Then I heard something new. Wings flapped loudly above me and I glanced up at the sky, seeing nothing. Yet a sudden wind swept my hair back and flung ash and charred bits of wood in my face. Still crouched low to the ground, I covered my head with my arms.
I smelled damp fur and animal musk, but also a natural spicy scent I remembered from when he was human. Aydin had found me. Or maybe he’d been following me from the start. Either way, it was a relief to have him here even if I couldn’t see him.
His gargoyle form suddenly appeared above me and his talons pierced the appliance like it was made from tin foil. The fridge crumpled when he lifted it off the floor. I watched as it flew a dozen feet to the side, then bounced a couple times before coming to a stop. The cellar door was free. And Aydin was already gone.
Sirens screamed in the distance, meaning help had arrived. I opened the cellar door and a plume of gray smoke puffed out the opening. The dimly lit outline of a child lay at the foot of the stairs. I scuttled down the steps and scooped up the boy, who couldn’t have weighed more than forty pounds. His dark hair was powdered with ash, and soot smeared his nose and cheeks. He still breathed, but barely.
I ran up the steps and out of the burned rubble toward the ambulance. “Help!” I called to the two men who hopped out the back. “This boy was in the cellar when the house burned.”
They took him from me and got to work. I heard the boy cough and a wave of relief washed over me.
Catching my breath, I scouted the area for Natalie. I saw that a thick wall of smoke had replaced the flames so I hoped that meant the fire was out.
Gasps of heavy weeping came from the back of the ambulance and I wondered if it held another victim of the fire. I went to see if there was anything I could do to help.
Natalie sat crouched inside, head lowered over a prone figure covered head to toe with a white sheet.
“Natalie?” I climbed up to sit beside her. “What’s going on?”
Head still down, she snuffled before saying, “It’s Rusty. She’s dead.”
“What?” I couldn’t believe it. An immense sadness welled up inside me, but my fury battered it down. My sister knights were dying and I was helpless to stop it.
Hands shaking, I gently lowered the sheet to find Rusty’s pretty, pale face underneath. “How did it happen?”
“Don’t know,” Natalie said. “I arrived at the front line. Found her by a wall of fire. She was backing it off. Using her will to put it out. Then…” She gulped air before going on. “Then she collapsed.”
“Did anyone try to revive her?” I touched my fingers to Rusty’s throat. No pulse, but her skin was still warm. I thought about the boy. “She must have suffocated from inhaling too much smoke.”
Natalie shook her head. “Smoke has never been a problem for her.”
It obviously was now. I lowered my ear to Rusty’s face and listened. Not even the slightest breath.
“The EMTs did try to revive her.” Natalie wiped her nose on the sleeve of her coat. “But she wouldn’t come around.”
So that’s what had taken so long for them to get here. I glanced outside the ambulance to see both EMTs caring for the boy, who cried and coughed but appeared to be okay. I didn’t want them seeing what I was about to do.
“I’m going to try something.” I reached into my coat pocket and tugged out the ox horn charm. “I don’t know the extent of its power, but I have to give it a shot.”
The ugly black horn, no bigger than the width of my hand, was chipped and blackened with age. I’d never seen one used, but I knew it to be an object of magic the Vikings kept with them as part of their battle armor. It enabled them to breathe through smoke as they pillaged the villages they burned.
I didn’t know much about this charm and was hesitant to place the horn between Rusty’s blue lips. There was always a price to pay for using dark magic. If it gave her breath back, what would it demand in return?
“Chalice?” Natalie gulped a breath between sobs. “What are you doing?”
“What Rusty should have done when she had the chance.” I slipped the horn’s tip into Rusty’s mouth.
I waited a full minute. Nothing happened.
I started to withdraw the horn when a wisp of