Our two sitters, rooky detectives Byrd and Lloyd, spy on us from a patrol car across from Wolf Street. Byrd is gaunt and fair. Lloyd is stocky and dark and wears leather. They both have brash voices and attitudes.
I’m not one to be watched and confined, so Wolf and I go for a run; besides, we must exercise our wolves. The detectives follow us until Wolf ducks into a dark, sour bar, and I follow. Seeing Shadow and Lady Gray, the barkeep yells at us to get out, although Shadow wears his well-earned K9 rescue vest and Lady wears Shadow’s K-9 police trainee vest. Patrons, feeling no pain, yell back at the barkeep to leave us alone. But, instead, they wave us over and fawn over the wolves. Then, hoping we’ve lost our tail, step outside to confront the two detectives.
Byrd asks, “What the hell are you doing?”
“Exercising our rights as American citizens to take a walk,” Wolf answers.
I hear the anger in his voice and say, “We aren’t under arrest as far as I know.”
“Is it true you’ve killed somebody?” Lloyd asks.
I seize on her slip of the tongue and retort, “It’s not true, but how did you know about that incident?”
“It was in your file… So it’s true.” Lloyd steps in close to my face.
Tilting my head down to her, I ask, “What file? What does it say? You’re not a rookie, are you? No, they wouldn’t put rookies on us, believing I’ve committed murder.” I put my hand on the hilt of my sword, primarily to intimidate her and make her sweat. “What else does this file say about us?”
“That you are dangerous, armed or unarmed.”
“Was I being watched during my date with the Mayor? The truth; I can tell if you lie.” I roll my clenched hand around the pommel of my sword, letting my knuckles turn white.
“Yes, they had a sniper in the stands.”
I draw my arm back to punch, but Wolf grabs my wrist while Detective Lloyd cringes. She did tell the truth. I take a deep breath to relax and say, “Let’s start again. My legal name without the title is Grace Wachinga. I prefer Wachinga. He is Wolf Sureblade; he likes Wolf. Now, what are your names?”
“I’m Anna Byrd, and she is Mandy Lloyd. Call me Anna.”
“And, I’m Mandy.”
“Now, Mandy and Anna, we are going to continue our exercise. You’re welcome to tag along. That’s not interfering with police business, is it?”
“You play hardball,” Anna says.
“We’re knights; we don’t play,” I reply.
“Neither do we. We know what you’re doing. And may I strongly suggest that you stop at the bar around this corner. The bartender is my friend and could help.”
Shadow and Lady elicit smiles and winks from leather and tattoo-clad customers. Mandy approaches Mike, who talks motorcycles with her for a bit, lips barely showing through an upturned mustache with lamb chop sideburns.
Mike gets into trouble with Mandy when he tries to give Wolf a glass of iced vodka. Unfortunately, my companion is still underage and almost chokes on the firewater.
I find an odd business card on the bulletin board advertising extreme excitement for bored men. The address is BR549. I ask Mike, who says, “It’s a shady bar around the corner.”
We enter BR549, and Shadow sniffs around until he snatches a knapsack under a table, ripping it open. Coarse blue cloth spills out, and its owner bolts for the front door, as do several other men. I pursue the first man and slam my staff down on his back, sending him across the hood of a car. A second man runs past me, and I give chase for half a block before I can slip my medicine staff between his ankles, sending him face-first onto the pavement. I pile on top, my knee on his lower back, and am about to drive my fist into his ribs when a hand grabs my wrist. I look up to see a burly patrolman’s angry face.
“I think he’s suffered enough,” he says.
Pulling up the man’s head, I see the bloody mess of his flattened nose. I back off as the patrolman handcuffs my prisoner. We walk back to the bar, where Wolf is performing first aid on a man with a crushed larynx by using the power of his medicine staff. Detectives Anna and Mandy have handcuffed four more men without injuries. Two other men lay pinned to the floor by Shadow and Lady Gray.
“Good girl.”
Detective Mandy questions Wolf about his staff. In his usual flippant manner, Wolf challenges her belief in magic and says he is a licensed EMT and under instruction from three doctors. It’s true enough, but one doctor is the school veterinarian and another an Amazonian shaman. And, yes, he used the staff’s power to save the victim of his crushing blow.
Police swarm into the bar and arrest each patron possessing a hidden blue robe. Captain Furillo arrives, fuming. “Could you at least be more subtle; this looks like a war zone.”
One item, in particular, is found in each culprit’s tote bag or backpack: a thin metal spike with a sharpened point and hook on one end and a wooden handle on the other end. I recognize it as a crochet hook and a file handle screwed on the back. The policemen look at me in disbelief, so I explain, “I am a lady, after all, trained in the womanly arts: sewing, knitting, crocheting, and court intrigue, subterfuge, and poisoning.” That last bit makes the patrolmen groan as intended. I smile.
The Captain points to Wolf and me, “You two, go back to Wolf Street School and stay there. And you, so-called detectives, will watch them day and night to see they don’t move.”
“What if there’s more trouble?” I ask.
The captain orders a patrolman, “Give her your phone. And, you Miss will use it if there is any trouble. I don’t care what training you’ve had; I don’t want the peace of my precinct disturbed again. He points at Shadow and my Lady Gray. “That goes for them too. Escort them all out.”
On our walk back to the school, reporters follow, asking questions and onlookers use cell phones to take pictures and videos. Our efforts to avoid them amount to little.
~
At school, students swarm us and demand answers to their questions. I get a look of disapproval from Upatu as if to scold me for taking off without him. I apologize to my hunter friend, and he pulls me into a hug, kissing me full-on. My face burns as the students point and laugh. Now the whole school knows of our feelings towards each other. The Kaniwa have no sense of privacy. Ah, what the hell? I kiss him back. He is such a hunk.
I can’t have him, not yet. Upatu has declared his intention to become a knight. He understands that means no marriage until then and seems to accept it. He still stays near me; his mission is to protect the seed of Aman, which I carry at all times. I wonder if that also means protecting me.
We stay within the confines of Wolf Street School for a week. Losau helps to make it eventful. I hear Losau’s animated voice through tent folds in a small classroom one evening. Curious, I look in to find her wearing only her loincloth, and the students – our youngest ones – don’t seem to mind. I don’t either—enough of that girl. Losau is almost at the end of miming a tall tale of the great hunter Tell when I interrupt the story. I promise the children that Losau will come back to finish in a few minutes. Thank god it was me and not Ishmael who saw this.
As we exercise the horses and students, the two plain-clothes detectives follow us around the block every morning. I make sure that one of the students delivers Lady Henshaw’s fine meals to them at lunch and dinner. It is the least we can do; they have a tedious job.
Sometime during the night, Losau wakes me up and whispers in a low voice, “Trouble.”
I dress and go into the men’s bedroom to get Wolf, but he is already gone. Upatu pulls me to the window and points to the now-empty detective’s car. Wolf checks the vehicle, waves a piece of paper at us, and returns.,
I read the note. “You can’t protect your women. You can’t protect your children. See if you can protect yourselves.”
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“He’s got the detectives,” Wolf says.
“What the… We have to protect the school – Now!” I say.
The others standing around us are well-armed. Lady Henshaw taps her baseball bat in her hand, and Ishmael grips his staff. Holding her hand and a half dagger, Sara decides to send Wolf and me out to search for the detectives while everyone else defends the school. I agree because everyone here knows how to fight, and the school’s windows and doors are well barred.
Losau and Upatu disappear out the upper windows with their silent blowguns. Once again, I see Losau has ditched her uniform. I order Lady Gray to stay with Sara while Shadow comes with us. The door latches as soon as we leave, reassuring me; I designed the locking defenses of the school after all.
~
Shadow sniffs around the empty car and starts on a tear, Wolf, and I struggle to keep up. The streets are empty, and we run for the dimly lit dock and old warehouse district. Shadow stops in front of one battered warehouse with an open side door. The wolf’s hackles are up, and teeth bared.
Wolf enters first, Shadow follows, and I’m last. We pass several small, dingy rooms. One contains a stack of rough blue cloth, new robes perhaps. The next room houses a table full of crochet hooks and files with wooden handles. Finally, we enter a larger space, and I feel a whisper of wind. I kick backward to slam the door on a blue-sleeved arm. I grab the man’s wrist, pull him into the opening, and run my shoulder into the door, which pinches his head against the frame. He falls and remains still as Shadow stands on his back, guarding our rear.
Wolf crouches at the door into the main warehouse space and points to a table under a solitary light. Detective Lloyd is tied flat on the table and wears a blindfold. Her eyes! Hovering outside the cone of light is a robed figure holding a staff in one hand and a spike in the other. He faces us.
“Come in, Caleb; I see you have the chit with you, good. All the merrier.” the hooded man says.
I feel Wolf’s hand behind his back, and he signals me to go left towards the table.
“Now!” and I’m on a dead run for the table. I hear Shadow yelp as someone attacks him. I swing my staff at a blue-robed man and hear his scream, and then more men scream like sirens. In my euphoria of using the medicine staff, I don’t feel the floor slamming into my face as I trip. Men manhandle me to the table while I hear Shadow’s snarl and the ripping of cloth. Netted, he goes berserk. I struggle with every inch of strength in me, and it takes five men to stretch me out on the table next to Mandy, binding my wrists and ankles out wide.
“Look at her, Caleb. I want her to see your eyes ooze out. So fight me, or I’ll do the detective’s eyes.”
“Show your face,” snarls Wolf.
Spike lowers his hood and pulls down the black muslin covering his face. He glares with one blue eye. An empty eye socket fills the left side of his face, a gaping hole lined with skin that could not hold a glass eye. With greasy, scruffy facial hair, he looks like the weasel that we know him to be.
“Nice to see you again, Caleb. Yes, the Knight Riding School and its particular oaths taught me well. A knight never quits and all that other B.S. about honor. Ha! Beating me up in that stupid school was the best thing ever to happen. Well, I’m going to keep your new little school from poisoning more minds.
Your so-called noble patriotism blinded me. But no more!
Pity you won’t be around to see it. Or the other plans my friends have in store.
You see, I learned the hard way; my new friends taught me. So when I finish with you, you’ll be mine, my little toy. Now fight.”
Mandy screams in my ear as a man drives a spike through her wrist, pinning her to the table. Wolf keeps his eyes on Wayne, who swings his staff, but Wolf parries his blow. Wayne delivers several impacts, forcing Wolf back. Someone drives another spike through Mandy’s upper arm. Wolf still keeps his attention on Wayne and counters, staggering the man.
I jerk and scream as a spike drives into my thigh muscles. Wolf glances at me and almost misses the sawed-off shotgun that Wayne now holds. Wolf dives to the floor, covering his eyes as the weapon fires. He comes back up swinging, but Wayne has vanished.
I look around to see paralyzed bodies scattered across the floor. Upatu stands at my side with a grim look on his face. Holding up his blowgun and bag of poison darts, he swings his arm around at all of Spike’s paralyzed minions and smiles. He unties me and helps me sit up. I try to pull the spike from my thigh muscle, but the barbed point digs in, and I scream. Upatu hands my staff to me. On touching it, the pain eases off.
Wolf’s bloodied arm was hit with birdshot. The shot would have blinded him if not killed him.
We untie Mandy but hold her down. I pull off her blindfold and sigh in relief: her terrified eyes are intact. I unscrew the wooden handle of one of the spikes only to find another barb to prevent us from pulling it through, so I screw the handle back on. Then, holding my staff up, I ask, “Do you believe I can ease your pain?” She stares at me, her eyes pleading, then closes them and nods her head. I touch each spike with the staff, and the fight flows out of her.
Wolf and I each gingerly wiggle a spike loose from the table, freeing her arm, and pull her up. Remembering my phone, I make a nine-one-one call to the police before telling Wolf, “You have to find Anna.” I look at Upatu and ask, “Is the school safe?”
He smiles, “Losau takes care of school. I take care of you.” His English improves every day.
Hearing sirens in the distance, I decide to stay with Mandy. I can help her, and until doctors remove the spike from my thigh, I cannot move well enough to help Wolf.
I say to Upatu, “I’m safe. Go with Wolf, and take this.” I hand Upatu the police phone. He grimaces at the magic device and sticks it in his bag of poison darts. Then, after kissing me, he follows Wolf and Shadow.
~
The police soon arrive with an ambulance. At the hospital, Captain Furillo looks ready to blow up but, in a low voice, says, “Thank you for saving Detective Lloyd. What can you tell me about Detective Byrd?”
“Sir, I don’t know where she is, but two, no, three of the best trackers I know are following her trail. They will find her.”
Doctors remove the spike from my thigh by slipping a tube down over the spike to capture the barb and slide the whole assembly out of my leg. I refuse pain killers; if Wolf can survive a stabbing without them, so can I. Once the bandages are on, I grab my medicine staff, and the pain eases as the wound heals underneath the dressing. It’s just one more scar for my growing collection.
I regain my feet, and FBI agent Brannon, the one who interrogated me earlier before I placed him on the floor, apologizes to me for being so rough. But, he says, “We have orders to take you to Washington D. C.”
I look at Captain Furillo, who nods, and I say, “I want my weapons back, all of them.”
“And if we keep them?” Furillo asks.
“Then I’ll improvise.”
The man shudders and orders the weapons returned. I leave the hospital with Brannon, Detective Rojack of the NYPD, and Losau. She fills me in on the battle at the Wolf Street School and about Sara being spiked in the back. The police ended the battle with flash grenades, and no one else was injured.
~
We board a small jet at the airport and meet Agent Hensley of Homeland Security, a small thin weasel of a man. “Welcome, Lady Knight Wachinga. I have asked that you be assigned to help me find Wayne Harrell, a.k.a. Spike.”
“He’s just a small-time thug. What does Homeland Security have to do with him?” I ask.
“A whole lot when he consorts with the North Koreans.” Hensley answers.
Stiffening, I say, “I’m all ears.”
“We believe Spike is involved with Yoon Ji, a North Korean spy, in a plot to blow up something in Washington, perhaps the entire city. Yoon Ji obtains obedience from people by burning one eye out and threatening to take the other if he is disobeyed.”
“So, what do you want from me?” I ask.
“We want you to assist in finding and stopping them. Use any means necessary, and remember your knight’s oath.”
“You mean, to the extent of my life?”
“Precisely, and like I said, do whatever it takes– just stop them.”
“So, how do you know it’s Washington?”
“We’ve been tracking your cell phone, but the signal is spotty, so we can’t figure out which vehicle it’s on. Ah, we’re landing. We have a helicopter waiting.”
I step off and trot to the army helicopter. On the way, I look over to see Air Force One taking off. In five minutes, our copter lands at a tiny park in the city, where several mounted police wait for us. One dismounts and hands the horse’s reins over to me. He doesn’t look happy.
“Please take good care of him, Ma’am.”
~
I puff into the horse’s nostrils, mount up, and kick him to a gallop in the direction Agent Brannon points. He and Rojack are experienced horsemen and follow with no problem. Losau rides seated behind Rojack with her blowgun.
The streets are clear of traffic but not people, so Brannon points to an alleyway. He seems to have information that I don’t, so I charge in and jump several trash cans before I’m out on another road. The agent points up the hill where a semi-truck pulls out from a side street. I make out the name on the side of the cab, Rogue Knight Trucking, and it hits me –it’s got to be Spike. I give chase, outpacing my escort, and start to close in on the truck. Finally, I pull alongside the cab, and the driver looks at me. He’s not Spike. He smiles through his rough beard, gives me the Okay sign, and points back down the hill.
My horse can no longer keep up with the accelerating truck, and I pull up. The trucker turns onto the highway ramp, and several Maryland state trooper cars follow. I look back down the hill and hear yelling from a large man in a black suit. One arm is around a woman’s neck, and he holds a gun to her head. I kick my horse to a gallop, bring up my Kyudo bow, notch an arrow, and wait until I’ve closed in on him. He ignores me; instead, he focuses on the building. Wolf charges out, his staff at the ready.
I hear a few yelled words. The man lets go of the woman to pull a phone out of his suit. It’s the trigger. Wolf breaks the terrorist’s gun arm with his staff, and the gun drops. No time, I let loose, and my long arrow flies straight, taking the Korean through his chest. Despite the splash of blood, he remains upright. I see Wolf drop his staff and pull his sword. With an overhead swing, he cuts off the man’s hand, the phone smashing on the pavement.
I arrive with my sword out and swing to take his head, but several police sniper bullets blow through his chest. With a spray of blood, he collapses beneath my swing. I charge by him before my horse can stop. Unfortunately, I don’t get to help Wolf, who writhes on the ground, victim of a sniper hit to his bulletproof vest.
A hundred or more police descend on us, grabbing my weapons. Finally, I’m handcuffed and forced onto the floor of a patrol car and driven away, out of sight of the public.