Dying Is My Business

The Black Knight took the crucible off the flame and carried it to the cage. I wished I could see more through the visor of his helmet than just an empty darkness, if only to know if I’d gotten through to him on some level, but he was as unreadable as a blank wall. He put the steaming crucible on the floor in front of the cage, then grabbed my arm again and pulled it toward him.

“Really, this again? You’re like a dumb kid who keeps touching a hot stove.”

This time, the Black Knight pried open my hand. I didn’t notice the long, thin dagger until he was already bringing it toward my palm. I sucked in my breath as he drew the blade painfully across my palm, leaving a red line of blood along the skin.

He picked up the crucible and squeezed my fist over it until the blood dripped onto the hot, yellow powder. As soon as the blood touched it, the powder began to sizzle and smoke. Then he let me go and brought the crucible back to the furnace.

I cradled my bleeding hand to my chest. “What did you do that for?”

The Black Knight put the crucible over the flame again and watched it steam.

“Damn it, what do you want from me?”

It was pointless. The Black Knight only continued to ignore me, focusing his attention on his work. My palm was throbbing where he’d cut it, but the bleeding slowed as the blood began to clot. Frustrated, I sank down against the cage bars and watched the Black Knight work. What was he doing? What did he want with my blood?

He lifted a glass globe filled with an ice-blue liquid off its hook and poured a few drops into the steaming crucible. It flared like flashpaper, then sputtered and died. The Black Knight balled his gauntlets into angry fists. With a sweep of his arm he knocked the crucible off the furnace and onto floor. The experiment must have failed. The Black Knight spun quickly, his tattered black cape billowing out behind him. He stormed out the steel door, slamming it closed again behind him. I heard a heavy clank as the door’s lock slid into place.

It was tempting to think the experiment’s failure was a good thing, but I knew that was shortsighted. Given my situation, the only thing more dangerous than the Black Knight was an angry Black Knight, with me as the cause of his frustration. What would he do when he came back? Drain the rest of my blood? Dissect me like a frog?

I stood up and tried to get the cage door open again. I kicked it, slammed my shoulder into it, but the damn thing still didn’t budge. Finally, I hit the door at the wrong angle and a jagged bolt of pain shot through my arm. Wincing, I wiggled my fingers and bent my elbow until I was satisfied I hadn’t broken anything. Then I sighed and slumped to the floor again. I had to face facts, there was no way out. I was at the Black Knight’s mercy, and something told me the cut on my palm wasn’t the worst of what he had in store.

I hoped the others had found what they were looking for. I pictured Bethany bent over a book, scouring it for clues. The image put a pang of regret in my chest. It was likely the Black Knight would keep me here as his prisoner-slash-guinea pig for … well, forever, I supposed, considering neither one of us was exactly mortal. I’d never see Bethany again. At least I’d managed to keep Reve Azrael and the Black Knight distracted so the others would be safe, even if only for a while. It wasn’t much, and it didn’t make up for everything I’d done, but maybe it was some small bit of redemption. Or maybe there was no redemption for someone like me. There was a string of bodies in my wake, and maybe this was what I deserved, my punishment, to be dissected and studied by the Black Knight until there wasn’t enough of me left to come back from the dead. And then the world could breathe a sigh of relief, finally wash its hands of me, and say good riddance.

I don’t know how long I sat there staring at the guttering furnace fire through the bars of the cage and feeling sorry for myself. Hours, maybe. The blood on my palm had dried when I heard the chamber door unlock. I stood, my heart in my throat as I watched it swing open, but it wasn’t the Black Knight. It was the wizened old gargoyle I’d seen standing beside him in the throne room. The gargoyle limped into the room, its walking stick tapping the floor quietly. The long, saliva-wet snaggletooth that hung from its mouth glistened in the firelight.

I stepped back from the cage door, but it wasn’t like there was any place I could run if Snaggletooth decided to turn me into a meal. “What do you want?”

Surprisingly, the gargoyle answered in English. “Be fearless. I bring you liberation.” I frowned. Not only did the words not make sense, they sounded wrong coming from a mouth that wasn’t meant to speak them. It was like listening to a dog trying to talk. The gargoyle shook its head and tried again. “Please forgive. Your language is difficult and I have not spoken it in many years. Do not be afraid. I have come to free you.” Snaggletooth unlocked the cage and held the door open for me.

I stepped out of the cage hesitantly. I didn’t know if I could trust a gargoyle, but I wasn’t going to let an open door go to waste. “Why would you help me?”

“For the good of my kind,” Snaggletooth replied, leading me toward the chamber door. “We are an ancient race, old before yours was even born. Yet there are so few of us left who remember the old days, before the usurper came.” Snaggletooth opened the door carefully, and peered into the tunnel outside. The gargoyle stepped out and motioned for me to follow.

I still didn’t know if trusting Snaggletooth was a safe thing to do, but I didn’t see much choice. It was either that or wait for the Black Knight to return for a new game of Operation. I followed the old gargoyle into the tunnel, making sure to tread lightly. The tunnel was empty, but I doubted it would stay that way for long. The whole cavern was crawling with gargoyles, and the Black Knight could already be on his way back. As we walked, I whispered, “Who’s the usurper? Are you talking about the Black Knight?”

Ahead of me, in the dim light of the glowing lichen, Snaggletooth nodded. “Bad enough he is not of our kind, but his cruelty is unbridled, his tyranny unmatched. He rules through fear and intimidation. Those who fail him are publicly executed as a warning to the rest of us, to keep us meek and obedient.”

I cringed, remembering the gargoyle skulls cemented into the Black Knight’s throne. Failure and disobedience got you the best seat in the house, only in the worst way. It reminded me of some of the crime bosses I knew. Anger them, don’t follow their orders, and you got two in the back of the head. The Black Knight would have felt right at home in the Brooklyn underworld.

“Many are too young to remember the time before the usurper,” Snaggletooth continued. “Many remain loyal to him. But not all. There are others like me who would be free of him. Our numbers grow by the day. The time will soon come when we will rise up, but still we are not enough. We need … I do not know the word. We do not have our own word for it. We have need of you. That is why I have done this.”

The words were garbled but the meaning was clear enough. In return for freeing me, Snaggletooth was asking for my help.

“What is it you want me to do?”

Another chamber opened off the corridor. Snaggletooth paused by the doorway and peeked inside. The gargoyle turned back to me, put a long, clawed finger to its jaws, and waved for me to follow. Snaggletooth crept silently past the doorway. I did the same, risking a quick glance through the opening. Inside, a throng of gargoyles surrounded something wounded and bleeding on the floor. I heard the sounds of gnashing teeth and the bleating of an animal, and caught a glimpse of blood-tinged fur. Dinnertime. I hurried past.

“The usurper must not be allowed to wake Stryge from his slumber,” Snaggletooth said as we continued through the cave tunnels.

“Wait a minute. I thought you said you liked it better under Stryge’s rule, before the Black Knight came along.”

“You misunderstand. Stryge was as cruel a tyrant as the usurper. We do not wish his return. But that is not the usurper’s intention anyway. He would never allow Stryge to reclaim the throne. All the usurper craves is power. It is all he has ever craved. He plans to steal Stryge’s power for himself, just as he planned to steal yours.”

Damn, was there anyone who didn’t want a piece of Stryge? Still, what Snaggletooth said gave me pause. “He wants to steal my power?”

The tunnel bent around a corner. Snaggletooth motioned for me to wait before we turned. A cluster of gargoyles flew down an intersecting tunnel. Then it was safe to move again.

Snaggletooth continued, “He tasted your power when you bested him last night. After that, he grew obsessed. He yearns to take that power for himself, and he surely would have had I not freed you.”

That explained why the Black Knight had tried to drain the life out of me a second time. Alchemists were scientists, after all, and like a scientist he’d tested me to see if the same results would occur again. After that, he’d