Darkest Knight. Karen Duvall
each of us, her expression grave. “The snow slowed it down, but flames are playing leapfrog in the treetops and spreading fast.”
Aurora put her hand to her chest. “Dear Lord. Was that the fire chief?”
Rusty nodded. “The fire’s almost out of control so he’s calling all volunteer firefighters.”
A firestarter who fights fires? That’s a switch. “Is there anything I can do?” I asked before thinking. Fire scared the crap out of me.
“No, Chalice, but thanks anyway.” She flashed a smile faster than I could blink. “Natalie, will you drive?”
Natalie nodded.
Rusty trotted to a closed door near the front of the house and yanked it open. Coats and jackets dangled from hangers and she pulled one free.
Aurora had followed her and I was right behind. “I think you should take Chalice with you,” my grandmother said.
Rusty blinked in surprise. “There’s nothing she can do.”
“Yes, there is.” Aurora looked at me, her face tight with concern. “We have a room stacked with boxes that contain the curses and charms Quin Dee brought to us.”
Quin. I’d never forget the angel whisperer who got killed because of me, though the angels had made sure he didn’t stay dead for long. My heart tripped over itself at the memory of his sudden and welcomed resurrection.
“The knights need protection at all costs,” my grandmother added in a voice edged with panic. “We can’t lose any more. Chalice, will you help them?”
“I’ll do what I can,” I said, my brain whirring as I tried to remember what all had been in that stash of hexed objects. It was Aydin’s pilfered treasure that he had entrusted to Quin. He’d wanted to make sure my sisters would have them someday. My job would be teaching them how to use each one. “I’ll grab a charm or two that could be useful.”
Rusty huffed out a breath. “We don’t have time for this. The chief said the fire is reaching a critical point.”
“I’ll hurry.” I followed my grandmother to a room in the back of the house.
It was all here. Every old rusted trunk, rotted wooden crate, ancient cardboard box, barrel and jar. I felt their power the moment I crossed the threshold into the storage room, but I was immune to their effects. Having endured the gargoyle’s curse, I could handle these objects with impunity, as could Aydin. My sister knights could not.
I scanned the stash, remembering what most everything was, and reached for a weathered old ox horn. It had special properties that would be useful in a fire.
I ran outside, where Natalie and Rusty were already sitting inside a battered old red Jeep.
Rafe marched toward me. “Where do you think you’re going?”
I scowled. “Since when do I have to check in with you?”
“Since the day I became your guardian.”
Which was little over a month ago and I still wasn’t used to the idea. “Is that part of the deal?”
“More or less.”
I shrugged. “Well, I’m going with my sisters. You do whatever you want.”
He raised an eyebrow, looking superior and irritating the crap out of me. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”
“Chalice!” Rusty stuck her head out the open window. “Are you coming? Or would you rather wait for the entire town to burn down first?”
I lurched toward the Jeep and Rafe grabbed my arm. He dipped his chin. “You don’t want something to accidentally slip from your pocket, do you?”
I blinked. Shit. I still had Shojin’s heart. When I started to hand it to Rafe, he backed away. “I can’t touch it.”
Damn.
“Give me one more sec,” I shouted at Rusty, then ran around to the back of the house. A large ponderosa tree stood sentry there, a ring of melting snow at its base. I grabbed a stick to dig in the slightly frozen ground, creating a hole just big enough to conceal the heart. I buried it, then packed a few handfuls of snow on top. That would have to do for now. I’d find a better hiding place when I got back.
five
IT TOOK LESS THAN TEN MINUTES FOR US to reach the burned-out farmhouse at the edge of town. Flames flared orange in the distance, black smoke billowing up to blend with a gloomy sky. The house was just a smoldering mess of charred wood, exposed brick and chunks of blackened plumbing.
Natalie grabbed a toy truck from the ground and clutched it to her chest. “He’s still alive.”
“What?” I shot a look at Rusty, who appeared equally surprised. “Who are you talking about?”
Natalie swallowed. “The child no one knew was home when the fire started.”
Oh, my God. “Where are the parents?” I wondered out loud.
Natalie shook her head. “Not here, that much I know. But the boy is close. I can sense him.”
Rusty gave me a disapproving look. “If the boy inhaled too much smoke he may not be alive for much longer.”
“Don’t you have a fire to put out?” I asked, though I was more annoyed with myself than with Rusty. I shouldn’t have taken so much time to hide Shojin’s heart. Handing Rusty the ox horn, I told her, “Take this with you.”
She pushed it away. “I’m fine on my own. I don’t need help from a hex that once belonged to the Vyantara.”
I understood how she felt, but seriously? This from someone who whipped up a cloaking spell like a quick cup of coffee? “It can help you. Breathe through it if the smoke gets too thick. It acts as a kind of oxygen mask.”
“Thanks, but no thanks.” She turned and sprinted toward a line of flames less than a mile away. “I’ll send help back for the boy,” she shouted over her shoulder.
“I hope she’s as good at fighting fires as she is at being stubborn,” I said to Natalie.
“She is,” Natalie told me. “Though I wish she’d accepted your offer.” Her dark eyes shone with concern. “The knights are not invincible. We could use the help.”
Help against an unknown, and unnatural, enemy. The kind of help that only something equally unnatural could provide.
I wanted to ask her about the others, what she knew about them and their powers. I wanted details about the knights who had survived. And though it was peaceful here in the deserted yard of a burned-out farmhouse, a clock was ticking. An injured child, possibly a dying one, needed someone to find him.
I watched, breathless, as Natalie’s skin paled enough to rival the whiteness of snow beneath our feet. Her fingers worked over the metal toy, its bright yellow body dented, scratched and rusting on the edges. She gripped the thing as if clinging to life, which its owner might have been doing himself right then. Her knuckles turned bone-white and a drop of blood trickled down the side of her hand that had been cut on the old metal truck.
I knew better than to interrupt a psychometrist’s connection to a subject. She was linked to this child and disturbing her now could break the tie, or worse. I’d witnessed a psychic lose his sanity when someone hastily tore him away from the object he clutched. His mind was still attached to his subject and he never recovered. I wasn’t about to take that chance with Natalie. A cut hand was nothing compared to a lost mind.
A tear slipped free from Natalie’s glazed eyes. “He’s hiding.”
I’d guessed that already but kept my mouth shut. She was thinking out loud, expressing her vision.
“He’s