Page 4 of One Bad Knight

But I was terrified. I clutched my robe, feet glued to the floor, afraid if I moved, the darkness would notice me.

A strange half groan escaped my throat despite myself. I grabbed my own neck, but it was too late. The shadow jerked up. My heart pounded against my ribs. It saw me. It started toward me, and a scream got caught in my throat. I still couldn’t force myself to move.

Part of me prayed I would wake up from this nightmare.

The boy stepped in between us and lifted a hand up at the monstrous being. Light shot out of his hand as he said some strange words I didn’t recognize.

With a screech the shadow twisted up into the air and blew back out the doors, like a furious tornado.

I was left shaking like a leaf, still clutching at my robe. The boy turned around to face me. He set his hands on my shoulders as if he wanted to help but didn’t know how.

The boy wore a pained expression as he looked back at me. Was it regret or pity I saw in his eyes?

I desperately wanted him to say something. Anything. The pressure in my chest felt like it would explode at any second as warm drops hit my face. I was crying. I tried to look past the boy to where my dad lay, still unmoving.

The boy put a hand on my face to guide me to look back at him instead. He searched my eyes and visibly swallowed. Then he lifted his hand and gently swept his palm down my forehead until it forced me to close my eyes.

I continued to shake, but he removed his hands from my shoulder and eyes. A tear slid onto my lips. Then I felt the soft pressure of his mouth on mine for the second time. The saltiness of my tears mingled with the kiss.

Then the air around me turned cold. I opened my eyes. The boy was gone.

The grandfather clock in the hall struck midnight, announcing my eleventh birthday and the death of my father.

2

Gatsby

Twelve years later.

Gonna pretend you don’t feel that?a voice whispered from the back of my mind.

Even the roarof my motorcycle cruising down the highway couldn’t drown out the feeling. The best way I could describe it was a dark heat. Though I neared eighty-five miles per hour, the intensity left a metallic, sour taste in my mouth.

As much as I tried to ignore it, it continued to tug at me with tiny, hateful claws.

Something from the hell dimension was near, and something very bad was about to happen.

It’s not your problem anymore, Gatsby. Don’t get involved.

Under my helmet, I sneered, unable to ignore its call, pulling off the highway. For ten minutes, I followed the feeling until I found myself slowing in a suburban neighborhood.

My heavy boots hit the pristine pavement of a sidewalk lined with little spring flowers.

A man like me didn’t belong here. Not in this cute little cul-de-sac where civilians lived their normal little lives, went to work, and then came home and ate dinner together as a family.

A man like me belonged in the hell I’d been trained to fight my entire life. If anyone peeked out their lace curtains to see a tattooed man with his black motorcycle and pure hate in his eyes, they’d likely call the cops.

But the cops couldn’t help them. A Knight of the Light could. A warrior, trained in secret to fight the demons from the Stygian, a hell dimension that had been bleeding into ours for centuries.

But I wasn’t a Knight of the Light. Not anymore. Not that I had truly ever been one of them. But their pristine, light-wielding hands weren’t here, and I was.

The dark fire tugged me harder, drawing my attention to the blue house with a bird bath out front and a yard sign announcing there was an honor roll student in the house.

The crickets chirped obnoxiously, filling the night air, as I stood in front of the white door.

You can still walk away. You can get back on the motorcycle and not make this your problem.

Knowing how these small neighborhoods were, I grasped the handle. It turned over without resistance, and I walked right into the living room. The TV blared bright colors of a cartoon as a strange group of figures and a talking dog ran from room to room, chased by a ghost. Lamps filled the house with cozy, warm light, and a burning candle filled the room with the overpowering scent of peonies.