Knights of the Wizard (of Knights and Wizards Book 2) (27 page)

A grunt from Akio initiated the battle and it was instantly Bruce Lee furious, swords clashed as battle cries tossed aside the silence as if it had been a physical entity, in less than ten seconds more than thirty strikes had been attempted. Taiki blocked a thrust toward his abdomen but was kicked off the stage and sent flying; he got up and bowed to his opponent and slowly returned to the platform where after a minute of silence Akio initiated the battle once again. Taiki sliced into Kenta’s shin bone, enough pain to be a sufficient distraction for Taiki to take his life; the severed head dropped with a thump and rolled awkwardly off the platform. Two servants in black robes rushed to take away the body as another reverently removed the sword of the defeated and took it away while congratulations were bestowed upon Taiki.

THREE

IT WAS EIGHT DAYS LATER WHEN A CHORUS OF FROGS gave atmosphere to the night.

At a few minutes past midnight the June darkness was saturated by a heavy fog that had rolled through the north woods path in Central Park; a ground level cloud that diminished visibility created a ghostly atmosphere, even the trees appeared to be eerie apparitions, a person could imagine them reaching out with knotted hands. Nothing could be seen past a few feet in the heavy mist, further than that anything might be lurking. Voices could be heard making their way through the fog.

Someone was surreptitiously prowling in a black trench coat, listening and following as stealthy as any animal hunting prey, appreciative of the concealing fog, ill intentions both conceived and recalled. In the murkiness there was a criminal mind making his way through the night, proud to be able to get away with his nasty immoral accomplishments. It was satisfying to be the monster in the woods.

An odour hung in the air, Johnny thought it a peculiar scent, not a smell he recognised and it was out of place on the trail. Was it a touch of someone’s aftershave? There was a rustling of sorts, he thought it some sort of animal sneaking around in the murkiness, not loud but obvious nonetheless. A barn owl took flight, not liking what it sensed at ground level; best to flee while it was still able to do so, the sound of its wings adding to the night’s ambiance. One could imagine many things after the sun went down and not many of them good. Although it was after midnight footsteps could be heard, lovers and a few drug fiends wandered in the darkness, hooked on different things. There were a couple of depressed souls meandering and sharing in one another’s misery, one had a flashlight that was defused by the fog; the other had a bottle of Golden Nut wine.

A hand slowly ripped a piece of bark off a birch tree and let it fall.

Johnny and Shelly, a young couple that were both high and inebriated, having smoked Purple Urkle marijuana and shared several drinks of tequila laughed as they walked. They were in a great mood, loving the taste of the liquor on each other’s tongues and as soon as they returned to their apartment they were going to have at it. They were aware of other footsteps in the area but solitude in the Big Apple was rare. It had been a great day, having won a thousand dollars on a lottery ticket, one of their best days in quite a while. Shelly was particularly pleased that they still had over five hundred dollars of their winnings, tomorrow they were going to go shopping for a new television; they were both tired of the squiggly lines on the old fashion set.

A crash sounded like a tree falling, a rotted tree that had given way under its own weight perhaps, quite loud and unsettling in any case, sounding like an elephant crashing through the forest. Someone said “What the hell was that?” It was a brief fright but they laughed it off, kissed and continued to move forward, joking about monsters in the park and monsters that only came out after dark.

The sounds of the frogs ceased.

The good vibes were chased off.

“Shit that scared me!” said Shelly. “I peed a little.”

Again he laughed but this time it wasn’t genuine, a nervous emanation, and an attempt to discharge the intuition of uneasiness. Did Johnny hear a chuckling under someone’s breath? It was a purposely low snicker to make him doubt his senses; make him mistrust his own instinct. But under the influence his senses were as dull as a declawed cat. Human’s sometimes doubted their own feelings, pushing their instincts to the side without considering the consequences. Animals in the wild paid attention to even the slightest sounds; both predator and prey were tuned in to their surroundings but people sometimes ignored the obvious, especially men. Men had to have a façade, pretence of confidence especially with their mates. The voice was so low that it wasn’t much more than a whisper; he was sure it was his imagination, turning to his right he searched into the fog but saw nothing. He didn’t want Shelly to be frightened. Maybe it was time to get the hell out of there.

The sound of a sword being pulled from its scabbard was almost imperceptible. “Watashi wa anata no tame ni kite iru. I’m coming for you.”

Shelly’s pupils widened. “Someone’s out there.”

It was Johnny’s job to reassure his woman. “There are others on the trail we can hear them walking.”

She instantly didn’t want to be in the park, wanting to be back in the relative safety of their apartment. “Johnny let’s just go home it’s too spooky out here with all this fog.”

He put his arm around her. “Time for bed isn’t it?”

The couple stopped and commenced to French kiss, slow and wet, one warm tongue tasting the other, a taste of their own version of heaven. Time froze within the kiss, nothing else existed. A sword sliced through the air, barely time for Johnny’s eyes to widen, taking both of their heads simultaneously, one thump and then another as their severed heads hit the ground.

FOUR

HALF PAST MIDNIGHT IN CENTRAL PARK found Moon Diamond wandering through the woods, the crescent moon slightly visible through the trees, nothing unusual. Dracula had declined to go with him, besides the odds of the killer showing up so soon in the same area were slim. Moon Diamond detected a mouse nearby and Zacharia had to fight with the Siamese to stop him from pursuing it, luckily the cat was in a sleepy frame of mind having eaten a juicy sirloin steak just over two hours ago which had been prepared by Dracula, who was now in his apartment reading Piers Anthony’s On a Pale Horse, his third reading of the novel. The Master liked to study the nuances of the author’s words and the way scenes were crafted.

Moon Diamond meowed which surprised himself, thinking out loud. Zacharia was familiarised to the cat’s pacing gate which was now of course his own as well but he would never get accustomed to being so low to the ground. The Siamese finally dozed off giving him full control of the feline’s body, watching and listening for the killer as he made his way through the park. The cat followed what looked like a sixty-year-old man wearing a trench coat; he had a short white beard and appeared to be lost in himself. Zacharia wondered if he had a weapon under his coat, specifically a sword. The man looked strong, probably because he continued to work out with weights to maintain his strength. It was believed that the deaths were caused by a razor sharp sword and there was room to conceal one in that coat.

The Siamese followed the senior until he sat on a bench; the cat jumped up beside him and stared up at the fellow as he turned and looked down at the cat. The man had lost his wife a month ago today and was lost without her.

“Well hello.”

“Maooow.” The feline went inside the trench coat faster than any normal cat could move, but no sword was found.

“Are you looking for a home? Sandra would have loved you.”

The Siamese jumped to the ground and moved on to continue his search. Zacharia knew that monsters rarely looked like monsters; the killer wouldn’t be carrying around a sword dripping with blood. Serials killers were pleasant and polite until they weren’t.

The cat’s left hind leg kicked out, surprising Zacharia as the cat was now dreaming, making him shake his head. Perhaps he never had full control of the feline. It felt peculiar to be walking with one’s leg kicking out awkwardly without notice; Moon Diamond started running in his sleep making the cat appear crazed as it ran and fell over. Life inside a feline was not something that he would wish on anyone. Zacharia wondered how the Siamese felt, after all Moon Diamond had lost his master and must also find the new arrangement particularly vexing.

One would think that because of the murders that the park would be empty, especially after dark but New Yorkers were a different breed and some now wandered through the park with guns tucked inside their coats, hoping for the opportunity to blow the killer away. The Siamese went through the area where the murders had taken place, moving stealthily through the night, finding cut marks on a birch tree, perhaps made from a sword. Whatever made it had been extremely sharp.

Moon Diamond climbed the tree to examine the cuts and judged the distance from the ground, thinking that whoever had done it was only about five and a half feet tall but it was more of a guess than accurate information. A faint odour remained in the air and Zacharia recognised it from experience as Japanese Sencha tea, diminished but distinctive to Moon Diamond’s sensitive nose. Zacharia had consumed the tea several times in the past.

A large dog barked in the distance, someone was out walking their dog and was heading in his direction and so he decided to head back to the penthouse, deciding to avoid the beast rather than put a beating on it.

FIVE

A MODERATELY HEAVY RAIN EASED, lightning was lighting up the sky in the distance and then the sound of a low rumble went through the alley, the precipitation leaving behind a degree of freshness to the air. The rain stopped but in the dim alley a drip of water fell from a hole in the gutter into a puddle below, echoing off the narrow walls as a raccoon rummaged through an overturned garbage can that he had overturned. The raccoon chirped as it continued to eat.

The alley was behind a homeless shelter and next to a Colonial American Tavern in East Village. The smell of Filet Mignon wafted through the area, as well as a hint of draft beer.

A voice managed to escape from the tavern. “That’s what she said.” And then laughter.

A man’s shadow progressed across the red brick wall, the color of the bricks were distorted by the muted blue alley light that was buzzing overhead. The shadow’s owner walked the length of the alley and then back again, allowing the sound of his polished black shoes to bounce off the walls, knowing that there was no one to hear his footfalls but enjoying the sound of it nonetheless. He stopped and watched the mammal chewing on the half-eaten bread roll. The raccoon had rabies and for that reason ignored his presence, nothing was going to keep him from enjoying his meal, at least not without a fight.

It was a relatively quiet night although he could hear the sounds of occasional laughter from within, alcoholics were a special breed and would get no respect from him. The smell of his Golden Bat cigarette merged with the other scents, diminishing them considerably and after he finished his smoke he extinguished it with his thumb and index finger, placing the butt into his right pocket, joining two others that were in there.

The voices of an old couple floated down from a nearby apartment window that was not in view of the alley; the window had been opened to let the smoke out from a pan fire, barely comprehensible voices that slid on the wind. “You rotten bastard I told you that you were going to burn it!” “Make your own damn egg sandwich.” “I can’t eat that…”

The back door from the tavern to the alley was thrown open with force, making a hell of a racket as it smashed against the brick wall. The Texan staggered out and closed the door behind him as he lit up a Flor de las Antillas Toro Cuban cigar; he reeked of booze and had to steady himself against the wall to cut the tip off the cigar and light it, almost lost his cowboy hat but miraculously managed to catch it before it hit the ground. Ackerman was going through a divorce and was currently a miserable fellow, not knowing what do to with himself, his wife had caught him in bed with another woman so he had no one else to blame. And it seemed that no apology was going to be sufficient. He also hated that he had to go outside to smoke.

Ackerman puffed several times and breathed the smoke deep into his lungs enjoying the flavor of his expensive cigar, leaning against the building he closed his eyes, almost falling asleep but he recovered and puffed some more, the scent of the cigar making its way through the alley. Should she continue with the divorce proceedings it was not going to be pleasant, and of course the kids complicated things.

The sword blade went in on an angle, cutting into the left side of Ackerman’s neck and exiting through the top part of his right abdomen, cutting him in two. The top part of Ackerman’s torso hit the wet ground with a plop, the cigar still in his mouth, smoke wafting up from it. It took a lifetime of skill to cut through so much meat.

SIX

DRACULA WAS IN HIS PENTHOUSE APARTMENT on Fifth Avenue, one of three that he owned in New York City, sitting on his sectional white leather sofa reading his Kindle Fire. Not many knew he was a trillionaire and he did help a lot of people with his money but the amount of cash he was earning from his investments was amazing. The motif of the penthouse was white, ceilings, curtains and furniture. He had approved it at first but now he wasn’t so sure, overkill he thought. He had considered changing it but ultimately decided that he couldn’t be bothered.

Moon Diamond was prone on the recliner chair with two marble coffee tables in between him and Dracula, dozing off and on, Zacharia dreaming of being a sword-wielding vampire. The doorbell rang disturbing everyone.

The Master moved across the marble floor so rapidly that he was a blur, peeking through the keyhole he saw detective Harlan Palmer, a formidable black man that had been a moderately successful professional football player before turning to police work. Harlan and Dracula’s paths had crossed in the past.

Dracula pulled the door open. “Detective Palmer, what can I do for you?”

“May I come in?”

“Be my guest.”

Moon Diamond sat up and growled as Zacharia told the cat to be quiet; he wanted to hear the conversation and the growling sounded extremely loud inside the Siamese, more like a chainsaw that wasn’t running properly.

Palmer made his way over to the sectional and sat, staring down at the Siamese that was now in front of him growling. “What a beautiful cat. Not going to attack me is it?”

Dracula could hear Palmer’s heartbeat increasing slightly; the detective wasn’t particularly fond of cats because of a childhood incident that occurred when he was nine, trying to force a Tabby to be pushed around in his small red car had resulted in sharp claws to the face. “Siamese cats are very temperamental and protective. I wouldn’t make any sudden moves if I were you.”

Detective Palmer was not impressed. “That thing jumps in my face and I’m gonna put it down.”

The Master smiled a most defiant smile. Although Dracula did occasionally make idle threats it was best to take his words seriously. “You move for that gun and they’ll never find your body. You’ll be a mystery that’s never solved.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“You know Detective, I could cut your head off and hand it to you and then you could see your own headless body before you die. The body has excess oxygen that will endure for about ten to fifteen seconds, during that time you could see how you would look without a head.”

This conversation was getting extremely weird, the vampire was well known for his strange moods and perhaps he had come at an inopportune time. Dracula’s always had a strange sense of humor but Palmer knew he might not be kidding and with the vampire’s strength and speed it would definitely not be a fair fight. “There’s been another murder. This time the victim was cut in two. Obviously someone is very skilled with a sword. I’d like to get your opinion on the case if you don’t mind? The body remains at the scene and you can come and check it out if you like? Maybe bounce some ideas off of me. Maybe it’s a vampire with a sword.”

Moon Diamond nodded.
Dracula, we should go and check out the crime scene. I’d like to see the fellow that was cut in two, not a feat that’s easily accomplished. Maybe it is a vampire that’s doing the killing.

“Perhaps,” Dracula said to the cat.

“I’ll drive you to the scene if you’re willing.”

Dracula smiled. “I was talking to the Siamese but I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to take a look.”

Less than a half hour later Dracula was staring down at the body that was cut in two. Officers watched as the Siamese walked through the alley sniffing, following the tracks of the killer, but as soon as he was out of the alley he lost the trail amongst a thousand other scents.

“Get that cat out of here!” an officer shouted.

Dracula turned to face the officer. “You’ll leave that cat alone if you know what’s good for you.”

Palmer approached Dracula. “Was it done by a vampire? Doesn’t appear that any amount of blood was taken from the victim.”

The Master examined the blood spatter and the body. “The blow was precise and with plenty of skill and strength. Although it was a high level of human strength not vampire. Whoever did this has spent a lifetime studying the art of the sword. See where the sword touched the brick and deflected, the strength of a vampire would have cut straight through it; I’ll bet the sword sustained some damage.” Dracula dipped his finger into the victim’s blood and tasted it. “I don’t detect any emanations of vampire.”

Palmer nodded. “Dracula I would appreciate any help that you can give to catch this bastard before he strikes again.”

“Isn’t that what
you
get paid for Detective?” The Master turned his attention to Moon Diamond who was now sitting and listening to the conversation. “It hasn’t captured my interest but Moon Diamond might be willing to help.”

The detective gave Dracula a look and then stared down at the Siamese. “The fucking cat?”

Dracula crossed his arms. “That is no ordinary fucking cat. Meet my friend Zacharia, a formidable vampire, his soul is trapped within the Siamese. Cats can go most places without gathering suspicion. And he fights like a demon.