Knight Casefiles Book 0: Genesis

Genesis [Chapter 2]

Chapter 2

When I finally came to, it was to the smell of vomit on my clothes. I don’t know if you know this, but getting hit in the back of the head hurts. Never trust the movies you see. Just because James Bond wakes up from a well-placed gun-butt to the head and somehow finds a way to escape immediately after, doesn’t mean you will as well. If a head injury knocks you out for more than five minutes, call an ambulance for God’s sake.

Blows to the head knock you out because they hurt your brain, a fact anyone with an ounce of common sense will tell you is a bad thing. And when you do come to, there’s no way you’re lucid enough to play Houdini.

That’s why I just kept my eyes closed, enjoying the scent of puke and the gentle drone of the car’s engine. The car…Against my good judgment, my eyes snapped open, inviting stars to swim into view and bile to rise at the back of my throat.

“Easy,” a gentle voice insisted. A strong hand gripped my shoulder and willed me to rest my head. It took me a while to place the voice and when I did, I started to grit my teeth.

“What’s going on?” I asked in a groan.

“You were out for a few minutes,” a more masculine voice answered, one I didn’t recognize. There was an odd affectation to the way he spoke, as if he was intentionally trying to suppress an accent. Nonetheless, the tone was gruff and commanding, a mixture I didn’t normally respond well too.

I forced my eyes open, this time consciously, and fought back the wave of nausea as I struggled to look at the person holding me down. Icy blue eyes stared me down, willing me to comply. I ignored them and pulled the woman’s hands off my shoulders. She let out an exasperated sigh, running a hand through her pale blonde hair as she adjusted her position to give me more room to breathe.

“It’s always nice to see you after getting beaten up, Sigrun,” I muttered with too much acid in my tone. “Just like old times?”

The man who was driving pulled in a surprised breath. “Mon Dieu, Sigrun. He knows!?” the man exclaimed, the screech of tires as he attempted to regain control of the car nearly obscuring his words.

“He does,” Sigrun glanced at me obliquely and gave a curt nod. “He has. For quite a while now.”

“Don’t let it get to you, big guy,” I said bitterly. “That’s the only thing she’s been honest with me so far.”

“Chris…” Sigrun’s voice sounded pained but I pushed on.

“No, no, I get it. You don’t trust me enough to tell me about your boyfriend so-“

She made a disgusted sound. “Boyfriend? He’s not my boyfriend, Chris. I’m not that desperate.”

It was an obvious attempt at humor, something that I’d probably appreciate any other day. It was very rare that she’d make such an effort. Sigrun had always been uptight. Whether it was a chore she thought I should learn or our daily exercise and combat training, she’d always pushed me to do my best. No time for amusement; she had to train me.

It’d been almost a year since I met Sigrun, and I still didn’t know everything I wanted to about her. You see, Sigrun was a Valkyrie. I’m not referring to her brawny figure or her Nordic avenging-angel looks. She was an honest-to-god Valkyrie. Or honest-to-gods, I’m not really sure which. One who’d saved me when I was at the brink of death after a drunken brawl. It had been a bad year for me. For that matter, it had been several bad years for me. I had been content with my come-what-may lifestyle, blowing off the money I’d inherited from my parents while my sister worked to keep the company we owned afloat.

Sigrun had come and changed that – getting a job as my personal assistant to keep an eye on me, training and rehabilitating me into a functional member of society. Sure, she’d taken a while before she told me the truth about her, even after all the prodding and hiring of private investigator phases I went through. But in the end, she did, and the gesture won my trust. The rehabilitation thing was working, too. So much so that I considered making myself an award, maybe bake a cake with a picture of Britney Spears on it…until I realized she was lying to me.

I gave her humor a metaphorical backhanded swat, pulled a crumpled piece of paper from my pocket and tossed it to her lap. She frowned at me but took the ball and unrolled it. A moment of silence passed. I was the one who broke it.

“Please tell me what that is,” I said, careful to keep the heat in my voice in check.

She passed the paper back to me. It was slightly burned around the edges given I’d had to salvage it from our fireplace, but the writing was still mostly readable.

“If the child isn’t making any progress, leave him. There is no need to waste your time on yet another failure. You will find the next Knight soon, we are sure of it. – M. H.”

“Who’s M.H.?” I asked, when she didn’t respond.

“Friends.” Her tone was subdued as she answered.

“By ‘child’, do they mean me?”

“Yes,” she said, and before I could ask again, she added, “And yes, your progress in training has been minimal at best.”

The words stung a bit, but they were no doubt true. I hadn’t been as thorough with my training lately, even though I knew I should’ve been.

The world is a scary place – a lot scarier than people admit. Men and women put on a brave face, trying to get through the day, calm thoughts dancing through their heads. But deep inside, we all know it. There’s always that little voice that tells us that not everything is as it seems. That there’s something grander at work – things that most of the time find their place in the darkness. Why do you think we sleep at night? Why do you think we never go down dark alleyways? Why do you think we’re constantly trying to make our lights brighter and more energy efficient?

It’s because there’s a power to the darkness. The predators in there knew it. And it just so happened that Sigrun had chosen me to fight back. Christopher Pierce – Knight-in-training at your service. Although if the message was true, I’d have to redo my résumé.

The confirmation was like a brick wall. I thought I’d prepared myself for it but I was wrong. “When are you leaving?” I said, trying to hide the roughness in my throat.

“Oh, Chris…”

“I’d hate to ruin such a raw moment here, you two,” the driver interjected as he slowed the car down. “But we’re here.”