Black Knight (22 page)

He draws in a breath. “I’m not sure what you’re asking. I barely know what that’s all about. I’ve just heard rumors and stuff.”

“What’s the weirdest thing you’ve heard?” When he doesn’t respond, I prod him. “Come on, I told you I’m here to help you. What have you heard?”

He looks around, checking to see if I’ve brought backup, before leaning forward. “Is it true that people like you can do supernatural shit?”

“It’s true. Go on, what else have you heard?”

He shakes his head and sits back. “Nah. This is too weird.”

I put down my sandwich and it’s my turn to lean forward. “Tell me the craziest story you’ve ever heard, and I promise you I’ll tell you whether it’s true or not.”

He picks up his fork, pokes at his apple pie, changes his mind, and puts the fork back down. He looks at me, really looks at me, deep into my eyes, and I finally feel I’m seeing the Marc I know in the Field.
Something
passes between us. I don’t know what to call it. Recognition?

“I’ve heard stories that you people can travel from this world to another world,” he says. “A world like this one but different too.”

“Interesting. That’s also true,” I say.

“You’re not messing with me?”

“This other world—it’s as real as this one. And just about everyone you see here, they exist there as well. When you go there it’s like you meet the person you see in the mirror every morning.” I stop. “That’s why we’re talking right now. Because of that other world.”

“I’m not following you.”

“I know you there. You’re a friend of mine. That’s how I know so much about you in this world. I know how you rode in the trunk to Silvia’s house. I know how you stole her car when you left her house. I know stuff only a friend could know.” I pause. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

He’s shaken, finally; there’s no way to stay cool with what I’ve just hit him with. “All right, Jessica, say I believe you. Where do we go from here?”

“To be blunt, we’ve got a long ways to go. You see, in this other world we’re in danger. We’re trapped on an island where we’re being forced to fight for our lives. Six people on the island are like me, they’re connected. Another thirty are like you. I was brought there because I’m connected. You’re there because you’ve got street smarts, you’re a survivor. On the island there’s six groups of six, six teams fighting each other. Only, our team is down to five people. Last night we lost a brave woman named Shira.”

Marc’s confused. “When?”

“This part’s hard to understand, listen closely. Shira died last night in the other world. Everyone who’s connected goes there at dawn, and lives a whole day there, before returning at dawn to this world. You go there too, everyone does. But only the connected are aware of both worlds. Do you understand?”

Marc struggles. “How do I go there if I don’t know I’m going there?”

“Because you’re not really going anywhere. Witch world and the real world are parallel dimensions. Mirror images of each other. I live one day in witch world and the same day over again in the real world.”

“Why do you call it witch world?”

The odd thing is I’m talking to him in witch world. But I don’t want to get into that with him, not yet. I can tell he’s already overloading and I can’t blame him. When my father explained all this to me, it took him half the night, and here I’m trying to ram it down Marc’s throat in a few minutes.

“To be connected means to be a witch. A person with special genes that give you special powers. I only became a witch a month ago. No, I should say I only became
aware
I was a witch a month ago. I’ve always been a witch. It’s a genetic condition, the next step in human evolution.”

Marc holds up a hand. “Whoa, slow down. You say we’re together on this island, fighting to stay alive. But if these two worlds are so similar, how come we’re not doing something like that in this world?”

His question is insightful. I would have taken a lot longer to spot the flaw in my explanation.

“Normally people do pretty much the same thing in both worlds,” I reply. “
Before
they become aware of both worlds. After you’re connected, all bets are off. And to make our situation even more complicated, the fact that we’re on the island changes everything. We’ve been whisked away to fight like gladiators.”

“Like gladiators in Ancient Rome?”

“That’s it. They used to start with a hundred slaves in the Colosseum. They’d pair off and fight to the death. The next round there’d be only fifty slaves, then two dozen. Until finally two slaves would face off against each other and fight for their freedom, for full Roman citizenship, lots of babes, and tons of gold. I know it sounds kind of far-fetched, but our Field is kind of like that.”

“Field?”

“That’s what it’s called, not that it matters. There’s a reason I’m telling you all this. Normal people don’t do so well in the Field. They almost always die. Usually, as the contest reaches its climax, it’s only witches that are left alive.”

Marc looks like I’ve sucker punched him in the gut. “Then the other me is fucked,” he mumbles.

“No! I think you’ve got a chance, a good chance to survive. Because I think you’re just like I was a month ago. You’re a witch who doesn’t know he’s a witch.”

“What are you talking about? I ain’t no witch.”

“I think you are! That’s why I asked the questions I did. You never get sick. You heal rapidly. You’re fast, you’re strong, you’re shrewd. These are all signs you have witch genes. To be sure, we’d have to try to connect you. Then you and I could really help each other in the Field. We could survive together.” I pause to catch my breath. “Are you following me?”

“Have you told my counterpart in the Field all this?”

I hesitate. “No.”

“Why not? He’s the one on the island. He’s the one who needs these powers to stay alive.”

“You’re not getting it! You are him! You’re the same person here as you are there!”

“Then I’ll ask again. Why haven’t you told him what you just told me?”

The answer is because it’s easier to spot a witch in witch world than in the real world. Our powers are stronger here, more obvious. I want this version of Marc to try to connect in this world for that reason. He obviously has the healing gene; that’s why he doesn’t get sick.

Plus connecting him will work better here than in the real world. Better in the sense that if he lets me take him through the initiatory rite—here, where we won’t be disturbed by Viper or Nordra or God knows who else—he’ll stand a better chance of surviving. Plus Herme can help me administer the right drugs. Bottom line, I don’t want what happened to Jimmy to happen to Marc. I don’t want him to die in either world.

Well, that’s not exactly the bottom line. If he dies here in witch world, he’ll die in both worlds. But if he dies in the real world, there’s a good chance he’ll survive in witch world.

I don’t think I should tell him that detail.

“It’s complicated,” I say.

“I’m afraid you’re going to have to do better than that.”

“We’ve got our hands full in the Field. We’re both having to guard our group day and night. We don’t have time to perform the initiatory rite that will connect you to both worlds.” I pause. “But we’ve got time here. We can do it tonight if you’re feeling up to it.”

“What do I have to do?” he asks.

I reach out and take his hands. “You have to die.”

* * *

Two hours later we say good-bye near the theater when I drop him off beside his car. Despite our long talk he’s not ready to trust me with his life. But the strange thing is he’s willing to think about it. He wants to meet me tomorrow night.

“Here or at your apartment?” I ask.

“And I suppose you know where I live?”

“You bet,” I say.

He leans over my open window. “You really are a witch, you know that, Jessica.”

“Jessie,” I say.

“Is that what the other Marc calls you?”

“Yeah.”

He gives me a quick kiss on the lips. “Good night, Jessie.”

He gets in his car and drives away. I don’t know why but I don’t want to let him go. It’s late, I’ll be fighting like a bat out of hell to stay alive all day tomorrow in the real world. I desperately need to rest. But I want to go after him. It’s like the one kiss wasn’t enough.

I drive home like someone over the legal limit. I know Jimmy’s going to be waiting up for me, and that he’s going to take my head off. But he’s not in the living room when I walk in the house. For that matter, he’s not in the house. A spasm of fear grips me and I rush to the guesthouse and peek through my mother’s bedroom window and see Lara fast asleep not five feet from where my mom’s passed out. The sight cuts my anxiety in half but I’m still freaked.

Until I hear Jimmy park out front and walk toward the porch. When he comes inside, when I see his face, my fear explodes. I’ve never seen him look so mad.

He doesn’t look at me, just stalks by. I try to hug him but he shakes me off. I don’t know what’s wrong but I’m starting to get a bad feeling. I follow him out back, where he’s standing in the yard and staring up at the moon. It’s bright in witch world, too.

“What is it?” I ask. I’ve never really had Jimmy yell at me before. He’s not the type. When he gets annoyed he just falls silent, goes off by himself. But I have a sinking feeling I’m going to see a new side of him tonight. He keeps staring at the moon. His face should be white, I think, white as the moonlight. But it looks red to me.

“Talk to me,” I plead.

He snorts. “Talk? Talk to you? What’s there to talk about?”

“I don’t understand . . . ,” I begin.

“What’s his name?!” he screams at me, loud enough to wake my mother, Lara, and half the neighborhood. The sheer volume of his voice makes my heart skip. And what he’s asking, why, it makes it break.

“Marc,” I whisper.

He turns on me, God does he turn on me. “His last name, Jessie, I want to know his last name. I know his first name. How could I not? You’ve been moaning it in your sleep every night for the last week.”

“I have?”

“You know what? Fuck you, I don’t care what his name is. Go stay at his house tonight. Anywhere but here. I’m going to bed.” Jimmy turns and walks toward the house. I try to follow but he locks the door. Coming in, a few minutes ago, I set my keys down on the coffee table. I run around to enter through the front door but he’s locked that as well.

I start crying. I love Jimmy, he’s the love of my life. I can’t believe he won’t talk to me, listen to my side of the story. I realize what must have happened. I originally came home covered in blood and then rushed back out without explaining where I was going. He must have chased after me, followed me to the theater, then to the deli, and then back to Marc’s car, where he saw Marc kiss me good-bye.

But it had been a casual kiss! I hadn’t kissed him back! Why would Jimmy kick me out of the house because of that? It makes no sense, at least not to me.

Damn him!

I reach out and grab the doorknob and break the lock.

Storming inside, I find Jimmy already in bed, lying on his back, staring at the ceiling, the light still on. He acts like I’m not there.

“Let me explain,” I beg.

He doesn’t say anything.

“You owe me that much,” I say.

He rolls over, puts his back to me. “I don’t owe you shit.”

“It’s not what you think.”

Nothing. He says nothing.

I step closer to the bed. “If I’ve been moaning his name for the last week, how come you only blow up tonight?” I ask.

My Jimmy, he’s such a sweet guy. But he replies with such bitterness, it’s as if his few words poison the air. “I guess seeing your girlfriend with another guy can do that to you,” he says.

I see something then, something that was never supposed to see the light of day. A piece of paper lying on top of the chest of drawers. The piece of paper from the lab my father used to test Huck’s DNA. The paper that confirmed Jimmy isn’t the baby’s father.

The clinic my father used must have automatically mailed it to me. Or my dad might have sent it to me assuming I’d be the one to open it. Or else my father
deliberately
mailed it to our house hoping Jimmy would open it and discover the truth. Mailed it to our house in
witch world
! When I sent it to the clinic in the real world, where Huck lives.

My dad has only come back into my life in the past few weeks. I don’t know the man as well as I like to think. I don’t really know how far he’d go to interfere with my life.

At the moment it doesn’t really matter.

Now I’ve got two reasons why Jimmy is blowing up tonight.

“I didn’t order the test on Huck because of Marc,” I say.

“Right.”

“Jimmy, I’m going to talk now and I need you to listen. Just for a few minutes. When I’m done, if you want me to leave, I’ll leave. It will be up to you. Okay?”

He doesn’t respond. I sit on the corner of the bed. I sit because my legs are shaking so bad I’m ready to fall over. I’m still crying and want to stop but I can’t. I fight to keep my voice even as I speak.

“Something scary is happening in the real world. I should have told you about it but I didn’t want to worry you. Two days ago I was abducted. I’m still not sure who kidnapped me. It could’ve been the Alchemist, it could have been the Lapras. It could have been someone we’ve never heard of. In a way it doesn’t matter. Right now I’m stuck on an island with thirty-five other people. I’m in what’s called the Field and I’m fighting for my life. Marc is there with me.”

I tell Jimmy everything from beginning to end. Halfway through my story he rolls onto his back and stares at the ceiling. When I get to my fight with Nordra he stares at me. I wish at some point he’d take my hand but that doesn’t happen, although his expression darkens when I explain how Kendor tied me up and threw me off the cliff. He finally interrupts.

“What was he going to do if your telekinesis hadn’t kicked in?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. It did. I’m grateful I’ve got another weapon to work with.”

“Why did you meet with Marc tonight?”

“To explain what’s happening to us in the real world.”