Paint it Black: 4 (The Black Knight Chronicles) (22 page)

AN UNDERSTATEMENT would be to say that Sabrina was not happy with the way I handled the Dream King’s mortal minion. Apparently “he deserved killing” is not considered justification in the eyes of the law these days. I didn’t really care. I looked in David Carmichael’s eyes and told him that I watched his kidnapper die, and the relief that I saw there was worth a couple days of a pissed-off girlfriend. And I was right—after a couple of days she showed up back at the house with a six-pack of Miller Lite and made no further mention of my twisting the bad guy’s head completely around.

I was a little surprised that she brought Nester along, though. Wasn’t exactly thrilled about it. He was young, handsome, and able to move about freely in daylight—several things I’m not. I felt a lot better about his presence when he plopped down in front of Greg’s computer and starting pressing buttons like a psycho concert pianist tearing into “Flight of the Bumblebee.”

What? I like classical music. Lay off.

Anyway, Nester backdoored his way into the Charlotte- Mecklenburg PD computer system and brought up a series of case files on the bug monitor. I pulled the couch around for me and Sabrina to sit on, and called Greg and Abby down to watch the show. Greg grabbed a chair for himself, and Abby plopped down cross-legged on the floor in that casually sexy way smoking hot young girls have, no matter if they’re dead or alive.

Nester turned to us and said, “So I hacked into the CMPD database to show you these case files.”

Greg interrupted him. “If you’d
asked
before you went poking around in my computer, I would have shown you the shortcut on the desktop that gets you there quicker.”

“You have a shortcut into the police computer system?” Abby asked. Greg shrugged like it was no big thing. He didn’t want to admit that it took him three weeks of Red Bull–fueled twenty-hour days to get that hack set up and stable.

“That is so cool,” Abby said, and leaned her head on Greg’s knee. If he wasn’t already a walking corpse, I think he would have dropped dead right there.

“Anyway,” Nester continued, frowning a little at the incongruous picture of the hottie and the notty sitting there being all lovey-dovey. “This is a list of eighteen missing persons cases that we were able to resolve based solely on the evidence discovered in Asa’s house, particularly the class rings. This includes the Carmichaels and the two girls that we were able to rescue from Asa’s house before they were sent into Faerie.”

Nester took a deep breath and looked down for a second. “It also includes my sister. One of the necklaces you found in that shed was a birthday present my mother gave her. I gave it to her yesterday.” The young cop looked down again, then squared his shoulders and plowed ahead. I saw a little sheen of moisture in his eyes, but that was all.

Nester moved the wireless mouse around and clicked it a couple of times. “This is a list of thirty-seven other missing persons cases that we were able to close because of evidence recovered at Asa’s home and shed. Some of this was the jewelry from the shed, some was from a collection of wallets under his bed, and some were bodies recovered from his backyard.”

“He buried people in his yard?” I asked. I thought back and didn’t remember seeing any turned earth, or smelling any decay. “That must have been years ago.”

“Our best estimates are that he stopped burying people in his backyard more than twenty years ago, when the lots around his property were purchased and houses were built closer to his own,” Sabrina chimed in.

“So this son of a bitch killed more than fifty people over the past forty years right under all our noses?” I took a long pull of my beer to wash the bad taste out of my mouth.

“And if a kid and his dog hadn’t found a random jawbone in the woods we might have never known about it,” Greg almost whispered.

“Can I get a pass for ripping his head off now?” I asked. Sabrina gave me a tight smile and punched me in the arm.

“If you’d like to do it again, I’ll loan you a shovel,” Nester said. I looked up at him, but there was no smile on his face. He nodded solemnly at me and lifted his beer. I raised mine in an imaginary toast, and we both drank.

“Alright, kids,” I said, standing. “It’s Friday night, we all survived our latest trip to Faerieland, and none of us came back sparkling. I say we celebrate! So what’s the plan?”

“Sorry, Jimmy, I’ve got to work,” Abby said, getting to her feet.

“Work? What are you talking about?” I asked.

“Remember that little deal I cut with Lilith that you were so pissed about?”

“Yeah,” I glowered at her, remembering.

“Well, I start tonight. I’m the new bouncer at the Angel. You broke a few of her old ones, remember? Lilith thinks that having a bouncer that looks more like one of the girls than a linebacker might cut down on the property damage.”

“I don’t like it,” Greg said, and I nodded.

“Doesn’t matter. I made a deal, and I don’t think any of us are dumb enough to want to break a deal with Lilith. Now I’ve got to go change. Somehow I don’t think a ratty T-shirt and sweats is what she had in mind when she told me to wear something short and sexy to work in.” She turned and headed upstairs.

Nester smiled and said, “Thanks for the invite, but I’ve got more paperwork to catch up on.”

I looked over at Greg, who said, “Nah, man. I haven’t made game night at the comic shop in a month. If I miss tonight they’re going to kick me out of the Magic: The Gathering league.”

I wasn’t even sure what that meant, but it sounded like nothing Greg wanted to happen. A few seconds later, I looked around and I was alone in the den with Sabrina. I sat back down on the couch and looked over at her. “So . . . is it time to have that talk?”

“I think so,” she replied. “Let me start. You drive me nuts. You’re immature, reckless, half-crazy, and one of the two biggest geeks I’ve ever met.”

“And those are my good qualities.”

“Yes, exactly, those
are
your good qualities! You rush into things unprepared, you get hurt more than any man should be able to survive—”

“Well, technically—”

She put a finger on my lips. “Shut up, I’m talking. You’re infuriating, irresponsible, and you look like a twenty-year-old! In short, you’re nothing like what a responsible career woman in her mid-thirties should be interested in. So why in the world can’t I just be through with you?”

I shrugged. “World’s funny that way. I mean, look at it from my perspective. I’m immortal, young forever, with mental powers that can make any woman fall at my feet in a swoon, and I’m nuts about the one human I’ve ever met that I can’t use my mojo on. And why the hell should I be falling in love with somebody that I’m eventually going to have to watch die of old age?”

We just sat there staring at each other for a long time. “Well, I guess I finally pointed out the elephants in the room, huh?” I asked.

“Which ones?”

“Well, there’s the whole thing about not wanting to watch you get old and die—” Sabrina started to say something, but this time I put my finger over her lips. “And then there’s the bit where I’m in love with you.”

“Yeah, that.” Her voice was low, but at least she was willing to look me in the eyes.

“Look, Sabrina, I know I’m not much of a catch. I’ll get carded in bars until I’m a thousand, if I can avoid pissing off Faerie Queens that long. My nose is too big, my hair never does what I want, and I’m too skinny. Not to mention my fashion sense, or lack thereof. And that’s before we get to the whole being dead thing.”

We sat there on the couch in silence for a while, just looking at each other, until finally I broke. “So . . .
Doctor Who
marathon?”

She smiled at me, set down her beer, and scooted over closer to me on the sofa. A
lot
closer. “I didn’t spend all that time making sure everyone but you and I had someplace else to be tonight just so we could watch TV.” She smiled and leaned in, a curl falling loose from her ponytail to bounce across one cheek. I reached over and brushed it away, then pressed my lips to hers. She threw her arms around my neck and the kiss deepened. Her lips parted, and I felt her tongue flick across my lips.

I pulled back for a second and looked deep into her eyes. “This is nice and all, but the couch isn’t exactly where all this played out in the movie in my head.”

“Then what did you have in mind?” She asked with a smile.

I kissed her again, longer this time, wrapping my arms around her and standing up, picking her up with me as I stood. She wrapped her long legs around my waist and I carried her upstairs. I took my time, pausing at a couple of steps to set her down and kiss along her neck and nuzzle that spot behind her ears that makes her purr like a contented kitten. Finally, after what felt like a year, we were in my room. I looked around the room at the candles one of my helpful and interfering friends had lit as they were leaving, and smiled.

Then I laid Sabrina down on my bed and showed her exactly what I had in mind.

THE END

(Please continue reading for more information)

They say it takes a village, and it’s just as true with books as it is with children, so I want to take this opportunity to thank some of the members of my village that have been instrumental in the development of this book.

First, I have to give a huge thanks to Deb Dixon and the whole crew at Bell Bridge Books. From the moment I signed on with them to rebuild The Black Knight Chronicles and release the rest of the series, they’ve been incredibly supportive, patient, and helpful. I knew going into this process that I had a lot to learn about writing professionally and the publishing business, and I couldn’t have asked for better teachers.

I also have to give a huge thanks to my friends Faith Hunter, Misty Massey, Kalayna Price, James Tuck, Allan Gilbreath, Gail Z. Martin, AJ Hartley, Stuart Jaffe, and David Coe. I’ve always said that the best way to become a better writer is to surround yourself with better writers, so that’s exactly what I’ve done. All of these folks have provided support, guidance, education, drinks, and most importantly, friendship.

I have to thank my con cohorts Davey Beauchamp, Emily Lavin Leverett, Vikki Perry, Stephen Zimmer, Sarah Adams, and so many more folks for the laughs, the drinks, and the good times. And the Wednesday night writers’ bunch from Charlotte is the best bunch of friends I could hope for, so a huge thanks to Darin, Nico, Eden, Matthew, Jay, Margot, Traci, and Aaron. You guys rawk!

I have a great family that’s always been very supportive and only rolls their eyes a little when they listen to my latest harebrained scheme, so thanks to them for their patience, love, and support.

And I have to thank you guys, the readers, because without y’all there wouldn’t be a Black Knight Chronicles. I didn’t start out to write a series, I just wrote one book about a couple of goofy vampire detectives. But you guys came along for the ride, and now we’re four books into this journey. Thanks for coming along. I couldn’t do it without you.

But all of that pales in comparison to the debt I owe to my wife Suzy, who stands by me through every crazy idea I’ve ever had for the last couple of decades. From theatre to poker to writing to job changes and life changes, she’s been the one constant in my life for almost twenty years and for that I thank her most of all. Thanks honey, and I love you.

John G. Hartness is a recovering theatre geek who likes loud music, fried pickles, and cold beer. He’s also an award-winning poet, lighting designer, and theatre producer whose work has been translated into over twenty-five languages and read worldwide. John lives in North Carolina with his lovely wife Suzy.