Knight's Curse (7 page)

“After you,” Aydin said.

I palmed the copper door handle and pushed. The heavy plank heaved on its hinges and a rush of voices and heat spilled out into the tunnel. The light was so bright that I had to shade my eyes. There were a lot of people here, if I could call them that. They were of varying sizes and colors, some with hair, some without, and a couple with so much hair that clothes would have been redundant. The hairy ones were chimeras. Not the literal kind from Greek mythology that had a lion’s head, goat’s body and serpent’s tail. The faces of these people were human. The bodies? Not so much.

“Hey, Elmo!” Aydin called over the din of happy coffee drinkers. And they were indeed happy—lots of laughter to go with the music playing through speakers mounted high on the dirt walls. “Elmo, I’ve brought someone I’d like you to meet.”

The festive atmosphere was more of what I’d expect inside a pub, but my senses detected no alcohol. I slipped one nose filter free and inhaled the aroma of coffee and honey. And yeast. Baked treats, too? My stomach rumbled, reminding me I hadn’t eaten. Looking around, I recognized a variety of magical species that I’d always associated with those who had enslaved me. I wondered if these were spies.

I edged my way to the door, snagging Aydin’s jacket sleeve as I went. “We have to get out of here. These people are Vyantara. They must be spies or assassins, or both.”

He laid a gentle hand on my arm, and as much as I wanted to jerk away, I couldn’t. His touch soothed me and made me want to get even closer. The soft look in his eyes told me he felt it, too.

He cleared his throat and dropped his hand. “No, Chalice, they’re not spies or assassins. These are my friends. And they can be your friends, too.”

“They’re
your
friends, Aydin, because you report to the Fatherhouse. I can’t associate with these people. It’s bad enough I’m forced to serve them.”

Aydin sighed. “That’s why I brought you here, to show you that not all beings from beyond the veil serve the dark side. There’s a light side, too.”

“That’s hard to believe.” What I really meant was that it was hard to trust.

“Because you’re not supposed to know.” He reached out to try touching me again, then thought better of it and stuffed his hand in his pocket. “Look, give them—us—a chance, okay?”

Change was in the air. A shift was coming. I’d been sensing it ever since I’d held the saint’s hand. Maybe this was part of it. I stared into Aydin’s eyes. Pale green, like frozen jade.

I nodded as if to agree, but the reservation in my expression must have been clear because he looked frustrated. It wasn’t like I could easily dismiss what had been pounded into me my whole life. Light or dark, magic couldn’t be trusted.

“Come on,” Aydin said, his smile encouraging. “I’ll buy you a drink.”

HEAD HELD HIGH AND MUSCLES TENSE WITH
discomfort, I followed Aydin as he moved deeper into the little coffee shop. I felt the stares coming at me from all directions. The music continued to play rock and roll, but the voices had died to a murmur.

I slipped a filter from my ear and listened. A few words managed to punch through the hiss of the espresso machine. I heard “gifted human” and “mother was a Hatchet Knight” and “she wears the mark of the gargoyle.” Aydin knowing intimate details about me was bad enough, but I apparently had no secrets from these people, either.

My eyes stung, but I refused to cry. My chest tightened with a choked-back sob and Aydin heard it because he leaned in to me, ice-jade eyes trained on my face. Our gazes locked, and I mentally dared him to pity me. He didn’t. His grin broadened as if he hadn’t just witnessed the near breakdown of a would-be knight in tarnished armor. Tarnished, hell. I had no armor, no shield, no crest but for the shameful brand on the back of my neck that marked me as a slave.

But that didn’t mean I had to act like one.

I tucked my ear filter back in place and lifted my chin, straightened my back, and bellied up to the coffee bar.

A stocky little man with no neck and very long ears that had multiple piercings studied me from the other side of the counter. Bitter beer face came close to describing his expression, but the words that left his mouth didn’t match. “What’ll it be, sweetheart?” he asked, his deep voice at odds with his small stature.

“Elmo, this is the woman I told you about. Her name is Chalice.” Aydin gave me a nod. “Chalice, meet Elmo, proprietor of this highly caffeinated establishment.”

“Double espresso, please,” I said. “And nice to meet you.”

“Into the hard stuff, are ya?” Elmo asked. “I’d have taken you for a latte kind of girl.”

“Milk doesn’t agree with me,” I said, secretly wishing that it did. I loved the scent of steamed milk and coffee. I imagined that’s what heaven would smell like, if there were such a thing. “I prefer strong flavors.”

“Because of your, you know.” Aydin tapped his nose. “Your nose filters. Can’t smell, can’t taste, right?”

This full-disclosure crap was annoying. “That’s right. But if I take out the filters when I eat or drink—”

“Other smells would overwhelm your sense of taste.” He looked pleased with himself, but when he saw my expression he quickly glanced away and cleared his throat. “Elmo, I’ll have—”

“A caramel macchiato. Your usual. Got it.”

Elmo dropped from sight. I assumed he’d been standing on something to reach the counter because only the top of his shiny, bald head showed.

“Want to sit down?” Aydin asked me.

I looked around the shop, seeing that most of the tables were occupied. It didn’t feel right. Coming here was a mistake. “I—um—I think maybe I should go.”

“What? Why?”

My gaze darted around the room again, then down to my feet. “I shouldn’t be here. I don’t belong.”

“Everyone here belongs here.” Aydin gestured at the only empty table. It was round with low stools, and on closer inspection I saw it was an old cable spool. The top had been sanded down and coated with varnish, but you could still see the scars of age and heavy use etched into the wood.

“Not me,” I said. “Not with them.”

His frown of disappointment made me flinch.

What had I gotten myself into? Being in the same room with a supernatural species was too…awful. My skin felt like it crawled with bugs. “I must sound like a bigot to you, but that’s not it.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.” I felt my indignation rise through my pores, which probably turned my face red. “I bet they’re all perfectly nice people, but I’m…”

“Better than they are?”

“No!” I folded my arms across my chest and refused to look at him. I wasn’t better. Just different, and not exactly normal. I didn’t like it here because these people made me nervous. They would report me to the Fatherhouse, and to Gavin. And who knew what he’d do to me then? His punishments were harsh. “I don’t trust them not to tell.”

“They’re not Vyantara. I promise.” He left the table to retrieve our coffees. He returned and placed a steaming cup of espresso in front of me. The tiny cup was old and chipped, but it looked clean. I wondered who, or what, drank from it before me, and if whatever it was had left its magic behind.

Aydin sat on the stool beside me. “Worried about getting cooties?”

I scowled at him. “I never said that.”

“You didn’t have to.” He sipped from his mug and licked the caramel-colored foam from his upper lip. “I can read it in your eyes.”

Could he also read my attraction to him there? I hoped not. I wasn’t ready to get involved with anyone after what I went through the last time. It was hard to admit my feelings could be hurt, but I was all about feelings, inside and out. If only I could numb my heart.

Okay, enough of this
feelings
bullshit. “You said you had information for me. Spill.”

“Not until I straighten you out on a few things.” He leaned back, but the stool had no backrest and he ended up slouching forward instead. “You have a lot of misconceptions about magic and the species that use it.”

I shook my head. “No misconceptions. I know who the magic users are. They’re all part of the same whole. You of all people should know that.” I sipped my espresso. Strong, just how I liked it.

“Do you know what would happen if the Vyantara found out about Elmo’s?”

“I assumed they knew, probably condoned it. A little diversion for their members.”

“Far from it.” He waved his hand at the room, where chimeras, a couple of elves, a brownie, three pixies and even a pair of human-looking characters sat with each other, chatting over coffee and what looked like some kind of pastry. “If news of this coffee shop ever got out, there’d be a roundup like cattle on the prairie and Elmo’s would be shut down.”

“But you…”

“I’m a thief for the Vyantara, and I do their bidding because I have to. I also have a life of my own. And I spend a lot of it here, as well as a few other clandestine spots in this city, where people of our nature are free to socialize.” He winked at me. “As long as we keep it to ourselves.”

Free? That word wasn’t even in my vocabulary. The very idea that people like us could exercise free will astounded me. Magic users on the
light side?
“Okay, I’m listening. Tell me more.”

He beamed at me. “Happy to.” So he did.

I was amazed to learn that chimeras like Banku, the lion man who’d been my combat instructor, were not a typically violent race.

“Depending on the human-animal combination,” Aydin said, “chimeras can be gentle, wise and compassionate. They all have an innate ability for magic, but not all of them use it. Those who do don’t always use it for personal gain.”

I remembered a deer-girl at the Fatherhouse in Germany. She looked something like a satyr, only more delicate, her four cloven hooves petite and feminine. She painted them with pink nail polish. I had tried very hard
not
to like her, even though she was a sweet-natured creature with a habit of putting other’s needs before her own. I didn’t believe her sincerity. Perhaps I’d been wrong.

“Pixies, faeries and elves also have a personal choice in the direction they want their magic to take,” he added. “Just like humans who have a choice between right and wrong, the supernatural races aren’t so different.”

On the far side of the room, I saw the dirt wall quiver as if made of liquid, and it shimmered a phosphorescent green. Elmo walked over and held up his right hand to lay it flat against the surface.
The green veil. The plane of faery.

I gasped and Aydin shot me a look, the corners of his eyes crinkled in amusement. “It’s okay. Watch.”

I shook my head and took a swallow of espresso, the bitter taste flooding my mouth. “He’s using his sigil to open the veil. That’s the mark of a dark magician. A sorcerer.”

Aydin held out his right palm and there in the center was the brand of a sigil, a symbol of his will. The ropey scar was shaped like two intertwined serpents and it had a series of dashes circling them like stitches. “Neither of us is a sorcerer. Like Elmo, my will is branded into my flesh so that I can open this veil whenever I want. Someone on the other side is asking permission to cross over, and Elmo is giving it to them.”

I cringed at what might be on the other side and inhaled deeply to calm my nerves. “I’ve seen Gavin do the same thing when he opens the black veil, except he cuts a new symbol into his skin each time. His hands are covered with scars. I thought you needed blood to work the spell.”

“Only the black veil requires blood from the spell caster.”

Okay, so maybe sigils weren’t associated with only the dark arts. That was comforting to know. I watched the wall soften, its liquid surface wavering like a disturbed pool, and then two people walked through. As soon as their feet touched the floor inside the shop, the wall turned solid behind them. A small, blue-furred creature crouched on one of their shoulders.

“Hey,” Aydin said, a smile brightening his face. “It’s Toby and Myra. And they brought Ling Ling along.” He stood and waved at them to come over.

When the little animal caught sight of Aydin, it stood up on its hind legs and fluttered tiny blue arms as if excited. It wore a rainbow-colored beaded collar, and its master, the woman who I assumed was Myra, tugged on its leash to keep it still. But the creature sprouted wings and leapt into the air, pulling the leash away with it.

Aydin laughed and flapped his hands, encouraging it to fly to him. The woman rushed to catch up.

A miniature gargoyle? No. It was way too cute for that, and the wings were feathered, not webbed. It landed on Aydin’s outstretched arm and began to chitter like a monkey. The wings vanished and its face suddenly looked more feline, yet the legs and tail were too long for a cat.

“Chalice, this is Ling Ling.” Aydin moved his arm closer to me, the creature still attached.

I jumped to my feet and took a cautious step backward.

Aydin chuckled. “She doesn’t bite.”

I looked for teeth but didn’t see any. “What is it?”

“A Jakkaryl.” He petted the creature’s head and it began to purr. “Sort of a fey version of a chameleon, only it changes shape instead of color. Want to pet her?”

Heart thudding like a wild thing, I reached out to touch the animal’s head. She nuzzled against my fingers. How sweet.

“Sorry,” Myra said when she arrived at our table. “Ling Ling is usually so well behaved, but she’s just crazy about Aydin.”

I could see that.

“I’m Myra, by the way.” To my relief, she nodded instead of offering me her hand. “The slow poke behind me is my husband, Toby.”

Toby sidled up beside her and jerked a nod, his smile quick and twitchy. That was okay. Meeting new people wasn’t my thing, either.

The pair were definitely fey. They stood a little more than three feet tall, their bodies slim and well proportioned, and so unlike the stout dwarves with oversize heads that I’d seen in some Fatherhouses. Toby and Myra made an attractive couple. Her blue hair harmonized with her pet’s fur, and she wore it in two braided spirals, one above each pointed ear. Myra’s pale green tunic looked crisply pressed, and her white-haired husband wore a tan canvas vest with matching slacks. This was apparently date night, and Elmo’s must be the main event. I wondered what other entertainments Denver had to offer a fey couple and their furry friend.

“I’d like you to meet Chalice,” Aydin said, tilting his head toward me. “She’s new in town, and I’m showing her around.”

Myra and Tony shared a look that made me suspect they already knew who I was. I refrained from rolling my eyes.

While we’d been introducing ourselves, the little Jakkaryl had quietly moved from Aydin’s arm to mine. I hadn’t even noticed. She was light as lint, and that was impossible from the looks of her. I’d expect her to weigh a couple pounds, at least. My eyes opened wide as our gazes met. We both blinked, and she pealed out a string of giggles that sounded like a laughing baby. Eerie, but it made me laugh.

What had been a feline face was now closer to that of a ferret. The body had elongated and her toenails curled into hollow pink disks. She was pure magic. And I liked her. Very much.

“We won’t disturb you any longer,” Myra said, grabbing Ling Ling gently by the scruff of her neck. She looked like a kitten now. “Come, Lingy. I’ll get you a sweet.”

The animal continued to giggle softly as her owners carried her away.

I heaved a sigh. “Wow. I want one of those.”

“She’s adorable, all right.” Aydin’s gaze followed the little family to a table they’d chosen close to the veil. “She’s proof positive that magic isn’t all bad.”

I lifted one shoulder in a half shrug, not ready to be too agreeable. A lifetime of caution couldn’t be tossed away in a single night. My past had shown me that magic was cruel and dark, existing only to fulfill selfish desires and to harm others. I was happy to know this wasn’t so, but I still needed time to adjust.

Now that the excitement was over, Aydin appeared suddenly weary, dark rings of fatigue settling around his glazed eyes. He didn’t look well. “I think we should adjourn class for tonight. You have a lot to absorb.”

“Are you okay?”

He wiped a sleeve across his sweaty forehead. His eyes appeared feverish, and the look in them was surprisingly hungry. “I will be. What time is it?”

I shrugged. I didn’t wear a watch. A quick glance around the room found a furred wrist bearing a timepiece similar to a watch but twice the size. Probably so that he could see the numbers through all that fur. All that
unwashed
fur. He smelled like a wet dog. “Uh, excuse me?” I approached his table. “Do you have the time?”

“For which side of the veil?” he asked, his feral eyes roaming over me from head to toe. “Never mind. This side, of course.” His human face lowered to read his watch, and he used a claw to flip up something like a lid. “Four-thirty.”