“Okay.”
That said, Evan was gone.
I needed help. Evan wasn’t enough.
Couldn’t call Fell or Conquest. Not without risking some kind of retribution.
The Knights?
I rested my forearms on my knees, sitting on the edge of the cot, and stared down at the concrete floor. Moisture had stained it with overlapping, misshapen rings of brown and rust-red.
Probably not water.
“Knights of the basement,” I said. “Knights… Knights… knights…”
I was going to try and stop the monster that had ruined their lives. I had one monster under my belt – they already knew that. They’d given me a ride to see Evan after dark, so I could ask if he wanted to be my familiar.
I hadn’t asked, because I didn’t want to ask for favors only to not need them, but the plan had been to borrow their books, their know-how, or both, if and when it came time to bind him.
I’d figure something else out. For now, I needed to cash in any favors they might be willing to grant.
With luck, they’d reach the station, realize what happened, and piece together a strategy.
With less luck, they’d get here, decide I wasn’t worth it, and turn around.
“Knights,” I murmured. “Knights of the basement. Nick with the wind shotgun, shotgun’s son, the knights of Toronto…”
I shifted position until I was lying down.
I was tired. Drained.
For a moment, I felt alarm surge through me. The same momentary panic that came with a sudden sensation of falling, lying in bed. Was I being manipulated? Enchanted?
I checked for connections, and found nothing.
I pushed up my sleeves and looked at my tattoos, instead.
Still pale, with a vivid background. No sign of anything suspicious affecting me or the tattoos.
I let my head rest on the too-thin pillow.
“Knights,” I murmured. “Knights…”
I was too tired to stay awake. I’d given up blood, paid a price, I’d been out running through the woods for however long, and even with the power that Rose was feeding to me, I was out of gas. A seductive part of me told me that I’d be woken up for my lawyer, or if anyone came. That I needed to recharge, before tomorrow rolled around, if I was going to put up a fight. If I was going to sleep before dealing with the demon, if I even got the chance, then I might as well use the otherwise wasted time here.
My last thought, before sleep took me, was about Rose. If I was out of gas, how was she faring?
■
Blake Thorburn.
I sat upright, nearly smashing my head into the cot above mine.
Connections.
A group of them, outside. One coming closer, faintly connected to me.
Blake Thorburn.
One of the ones outside was saying my name. The connection was the strongest, suggesting it was Nick. The guy who’d had the shotgun, the leader of the Knights.
“Shotgun guy,” I said. “Nick.”
I felt the connection solidify. He reacted on some level.
Verifying my location?
I looked around.
Evan sat in the corner.
I looked. The cop wasn’t at the table next to me. The cell opposite was occupied by two girls who looked rather sloppy, their makeup streaked by sweat. Both slept, despite the ongoing noise in other cells. Less shouting, more conversation. One girl snored.
“Sorry, Evan,” I murmured. “Didn’t mean to leave you waiting.”
“…Tired,” he said, after a momentary struggle. “Need to sleep. I can’t sleep. Tired… won’t let me sleep.”
“What’d I miss?”
He shook his head. “Tear me up after I die…”
It took me a second to make the connection. Before I’d drifted off, he’d use the same term. His autopsy had apparently finished.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here to distract you.”
“Tear me up… I’m tired.”
“I know,” I said. Your body is less intact, and your body is… some kind of vessel that’s keeping you anchored here.
The lone Knight was entering the building, approaching the front desk.
“Evan. Would it help if I gave you something to do?”
He nodded.
“Front desk. Some, er, colleagues of mine, they sent someone to the front desk. Hurry, look for them, listen for my name. If you can’t find them, come back to me, and I’ll try to point you in the right direction. Get as much information as you can, then come back?”
He nodded, then disappeared through a wall.
“Good job,” I said, even though he was already gone. “Thank you.”
I had the vaguest sense that it was sunny out. My general awareness, in the most basic sense, was too active.
I’d slept through the remainder of the night. I was now working with limited time. Sixteen hours at most, before my deadline hit.
Sixteen hours. Fuck.
There were too many bases to cover. How did I protect myself from something that attacked existence? How did I bind it?
How did I get out of here?
How did I help Rose? Was it a question of wrapping up the job and asking Conquest?
Could I preserve my real life? My connection to Joel, to Alexis, to Ty and Tiffany, and all the rest? Get my bike?
The Knights were here. They were, I could only hope, helping. But here I was, stuck in a cell. Not just that. I was stuck in a cell, all too aware that Duncan Behaim was out there. Fucking with me, attacking my efforts.
Had he been working on plans and countermeasures while I’d been resting?
I felt good. A little too good.
I paced, thinking, but the number of problems made for a muddle I couldn’t decipher.
The change in ambient volume told me someone was coming. Some conversation stilled, while some of the periodic shouting got louder.
It was Duncan.
“Good morning,” I said. Please don’t tell me it’s afternoon.
“Good morning. Up early, are you?”
“I have company, huh?”
“Your lawyer. And a witness has come forward.”
“Fantastic,” I said. “I didn’t think you were allowed to talk to me.”
“Apparently my supervisor is no longer concerned about that,” he said. He smiled a little.
“Ah.”
The door was open in a second. I was tense as I stepped out into the hall.