The Guiding Edge

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  Posted by Edgewalker54 August 7, 2014 - Filed in Personal Journal - 1,346 views
  

   This story is an original fictional account. I own the copyright and all rights therein.

  This is the continued story that was originally titled 'Blood Breath and Brains'. Thanks for reading and please comment!

   

  The Guiding Edge

  Jake ‘Edge’ Walker

   

  Jake was mopping up the last of his eggs with a piece of toast when a big man swung around the corner of his booth and dropped heavily into the seat across the table. Jake swept him with a practiced eye, knew he was dangerous but felt no immediate threat. He was as wide as Jake was thin, his long grey hair and beard were permanently fixed in an 80 mph blow-back. He studied Jake from under thick wiry eyebrows, quick beetle-black eyes flashed while Jake finished his breakfast.

  The old biker wore faded oil-slicked jeans and a large battered engineer boot stuck out from under the table. He wore an old denim vest, covered with pins and run patches over his frayed leather jacket. The faded patch over his left vest pocket named him ‘Road Man’ but Jake couldn’t recall if he had ever seen him before, so he drained the last of his coffee and chewed the grounds while he studied Road Man’s face. The old biker’s piercing black eyes that stared back at Jake were close-set and veiled by crazy white eyebrows. His nose was a scarred mangled mess, his thin-lipped mouth had a scar that started at the right corner and swooped up in a pale jagged line towards his ear before it disappeared into his grizzled wind-swept beard.

  Jake leaned back in his seat, pulled out a pack of smokes and offered him one. They both lit up and continued to stare at each other through the smoke, the younger man silently sizing up the older. The scarred corner of Road Man’s mouth quirked up in a parody of a smile, he crushed out his smoke, nodded slightly and muttered, “Yeah, you’ll do just fine.”

  When a chill ran up the back of Jake’s neck, he casually dropped his hand into his lap. His Colt 45 was nestled in the waistband of his Levis and his thumb raised his shirt so the butt was almost in his hand. His eyes never left the old biker’s face and the smile there had now expanded into a twisted and terrible impression of a grin. His missing teeth and scarred mouth gave him the semblance of a manic Jack-o-lantern with unholy black eyes and Jake took a firm grip on the butt of his pistol.

   “Take yer hand off that hog-leg, ya can’t kill me that way… It’s been tried before, kid. I been watchin you for a few days now and I think I’ve found the right man for the job.” Road Man’s quiet voice was the sound of shifting gravel in a deep metal bucket; his words slurred slightly from the scar and missing teeth. His strange black eyes bored into Jake as he slowly reached into his leather jacket and carefully pulled out a knife and laid it on the table.

  It was a dagger about a foot long, red-black non-reflective metal and the handle was wrapped with an old battered red leather thong. There were faint carvings on the blade and tang and Jake could swear he heard whispering coming from it. He sat, staring at the blade and images rolled across his mind like a movie screen. Horror movie was closer; the images were vivid and drenched in gore. Screams echoed in his mind, they were getting louder and he could smell blood. His heart was beating faster and he was starting to gasp out loud like he had been running.

  The old scarred biker laughed suddenly, picked up the knife and returned it to his jacket. “If ya think Red is bad, Blue is worse and Black? Well, let’s just say they never see it coming. How could they? Can’t see nothing when you’re knocked out eh?” He laughed again and groaned when he stood up. “Come with me kid, we got a lot to talk about.” He flipped a $20 on the table and limped out of the diner without a glance backward.

  He was sitting on an old ratted-out Panhead dresser and he kicked it to life when Jake climbed on his bike. Jake followed Road Man out of town; they headed towards the lake and it was late afternoon on a sultry hot Southeastern summer day. When they turned onto the lake road, most folks were starting to pack up and leave and they didn’t even glance at the two bikers when they rode to a deserted camp spot. The old biker climbed off his Pan and walked slowly to the edge of the water, where he just stood and stared at the horizon.

  “I’m gonna tell ya a story and I don’t give a rat’s ass if ya believe it or not. Everything I’m gonna tell ya is the God’s-Honest truth. Well I don’t know ‘bout the God part because sometimes it feels like it’s Good and other times… well you’ll just have to figure it out for yourself.” He turned and stared at Jake, his strange beetle-black eyes distant and haunted. Jake walked towards him but stopped halfway between him and the bikes.

  “When I was 59 years old, I ran into an old banged-up, broke down biker that told me a story. It was a tale that I couldn’t believe, I thought that crazy old bastard had banged his head too many times. Well, they say ‘Seeing is believing’ and what that old rat-bastard showed me… well, I guess started believing. Ya know, there’s a lotta weird shit out there kid and THIS is one of ‘em.”

  He reached into his jacket, pulled out the blade with the red wrapped hilt, hefted it once and threw it hard at a tree trunk thirty feet away. Just before it reached the tree, it swerved around it and came swirling back, end over end in a blur too fast to follow. The old man just stood there with his right hand out, his horrible twisted smile fixed on his scarred face. Jake heard the slap of leather against skin and saw the Knife had returned to his hand.

  “Nice blade” was Jake’s only remark. He turned to leave and was stopped by a low chuckle. Standing in the late afternoon sun, holding the red blade in his right hand, Jake could see a slight red glow around him that shimmered like a mirage. He had been standing 20 feet away from Jake when he caught the knife. Between one blink and the next, he was now three feet in front of Jake. The Colt appeared in Jake’s hand almost as quickly and he tightened the trigger.

  The old biker tipped his head back and roared with laughter. He said, “Well, go on. I’m armed and the cops don’t really care if one scooter tramp shoots another in self-defense.” He thundered, “Shoot me ya chicken shit, no-liver fukin coward!”

  He didn’t even blink when the 45 cal slug tore clean thru him, he staggered back a step, stood there and laughed. Blood started to pour from the wound and Jake stepped back too, shaken. Road Man lifted the knife (which was now making a keening whine) and he held it under his chest wound. Jake watched, wide-eyed as the blood stopped falling to the ground and began to disappear into the blade of the knife. He heard a faint moan; a murmur that he knew was coming from the gory blade.

   As he stood watching, the blood slowed to a trickle and then stopped. The black hole where 245 grains of lead had hit him healed in front of Jake’s eyes and then Road Man squatted down and slowly passed the knife over the ground. The blood rose in clumps, mixed with dirt and bits of leaves. As the blade absorbed the black-red blood, the clumps of dirt fell back on the ground and when he stood up, the ground was clean.

  “Alright, now to put it back! Watch close, this part is important.” He shrugged off his leather and cutoff and revealed tanned muscular arms decorated with faded tattoos. There was a tattoo of a knife blade on the inside of his left forearm and he pressed the flat of the black blade there for several seconds. His face twisted into a painful grimace and he winked at Jake.

  “This bitch loves to take but she hates to give. So, ya have to take it back from her! Always take back your blood from her or she’ll want more. She’ll listen to ya but ya gotta be as heartless as her. She’s quick as lightening in a fight, bloodthirsty as a vampire and as tricky as a bad woman. She’ll never stick in anything that don’t have blood and if ya call her, have yer hand out and ready or she’ll bury herself in your hide! HAhahahaaaa…” He leered at the dumbfounded look on Jake’s white face.

  He flipped the knife over so the hilt was facing Jake and he noticed that the blade was clean and that the swirls engraved there were now bolder and easier to see. He said “Alright, so you see what I’m sayin is true, take the knife and stab me with it. Well, go on. Ya already shot me. I won’t stop ya but she will!” Jake was pleased to see that his hand wasn’t shaking as bad as his guts when he took the knife from him.

  He looked into the old man’s black eyes and gave a shudder inside. In his 25 years he had never seen anything like this and he had to admit, he was shaken, not stirred. His heart was racing when he took a firm grip on the hilt and plunged it toward Road Man’s ample gut. At the last second, it twisted and if he hadn’t had a solid grip on the hilt it would have stabbed him in the gut instead. The hilt actually squirmed in his hand but he had already seen enough to know, keep a firm grip!

  He really wished that he had as firm a grip on his mind, because this was ‘Twilight Zone’ stuff. Magic, bloodthirsty knives that saved the user from death but would wound or kill the unwary? Definitely strange shit and he was wondering how to get out of here without pissing off the crazy old man that had a magic knife.

  “So, I imagine you’re thinking right about now ‘How the hell do I get away from the crazy ol bastard with a possessed knife?’ or something along those lines, right? Well, I’ll tell ya. You ain’t seen squat yet. I’m gonna show ya everything, tell ya everything and then… Well, if ya want to you can just ride away but I ask that ya hear me out, all of it and listen really close because you’re only gonna have this one chance. Now, will ya hear me out or are ya just gonna turn chicken-shit and run?”

  The old man’s words had the desired effect, Jake was a wanderer and a scoundrel but there was not one ounce of cowardice in him and he kept to his own personal Code: Never harm the weak. Never do something you know is wrong. Never back down when you know you’re right. Fight when you must but know that the best way to win a fight is to walk away. Never shoot anyone unless it’s the last option. If you give your word, keep it.

  So, Jake did a ‘beer-run’ and Road Man built a small fire and they talked long into the night. About the Knives (there were three), about what was Right and Wrong and all the stuff that lay in between. About women and riding and life on the road. Brothers long gone, ol ladies each had had and left or lost and the Knives. It always came back to the Knives. During the talk, Road Man told him that, at one time, his name was Tony but he hadn’t used that name for over 40 years.

  “Yeah, I met up with Road Walker in 1929 and he showed me the Knives, told me all he knew and then they were mine. Maybe I should say I took possession of them. Ya can’t ever own them, ya can’t never be away from ‘em and the only way to get shut of ‘em is doing what I’m doin right now. You know what? I’ve been 59 years old for 50 years. That’ll get old after a while. HA! Get it? OLD after a while?” When he laughed himself into a deep, racking coughing fit, he slipped his hand into the right side of his leather and pulled a Knife with a blue wrapped hilt. He held it by his mouth and a cool stream of blue vapor slid off the blue-black blade as he breathed deeply.  

  His breathing calmed at once and he grinned wickedly at Jake. “Ya can’t ever drown if ya got Blue with ya! She’ll give ya all the air you’ll need, even if you’re in the trunk of a 1968 Merc headed for the bottom of the lake! But I wouldn’t know nothing ‘bout something like that.” He waggled his incredibly bushy eyebrows at Jake and he couldn’t help but grin back at the old man. 59 years old, for 50 years was a very long time and Jake wondered aloud “What the hell ya been doing for the last 50 years?” He watched Tony’s face slide from jovial and relaxed to a closed, crafty expression and his hand crept towards Red’s resting place.

  “Where I go and what I do are my business. You’d do well to remember that pup!” Then his face reddened and he looked at the ground. “I’m sorry Jake; it’s what happens when you carry this load for too long. I’ve been looking for the right person for about six years now and I think it’s you. I been wrong before but Red already told me that she likes your blood; she’s looking forward to being with you. Crazy, thirsty bitch but she’s never wrong.” He rolled over and tossed a chunk of wood on the fire and the eyes that reflected the campfire were the eyes of an old, old man.

  “So, that means you’re 109 years old? That’s kinda hard to believe, ya know?” Jake’s gaze was steady but not challenging and Tony nodded absently at him while he poked the fire. He stood up to his full height and fixed him with a penetrating stare.

  “I’ll be 110 come this August and I don’t have a damn thing that proves what I’m sayin. How the hell would I prove something like that, huh? No kid, either ya believe me or ya don’t, no half-stepping on this one Marine. If yer smart and tough enough, you’ll be almost immortal. See this scar? I hit a bridge abutment at 80 when my front tire blew. I pulled out Red and was walking down the road in half hour. Ya heal but the scars, inside and out will always be there.

  “That’s another thing, you can never settle down. You can stop for a while but you’ll never be able to stop for good. They won’t let you. They have to… feed; be used, handled and used for good or bad, whatever that is. You look like you been on the road for a while, think you could handle that for the next 50 years or more? It’s been good to me, except for the occasional bridge abutment. You got anybody? Parents, brother or sister? No? Everybody I used to know, my friends and family? All gone now.” He poked the fire and dropped another piece on. His bushy eyebrows shadowed his black eyes but Jake thought he saw a film of tears.

  Chapter 2 Changing of the Guard

   

  “Tony, if you’re telling me that you’re 109 years old, you are in possession of three demented knives that obey you and make you harder to kill than the flu, I’ll buy that for a dollar! I’ve already seen what Red can do and caught a glimpse of Blue and what she does, you just ain’t said much about Black.” He took a long pull on his brew and stared frankly at Tony.

  “That’s because he’s the strongest of the three. Strong bastard but also merciful in his own way and he can always be trusted to answer your question, exactly like you ask him. Be very careful how you ask him something. I don’t know everything he can do but if you touch someone with him, anywhere on them, you can make them pass out for as long as you ask. If you want him to, he can change someone’s memory or erase it back as far as you ask him to. He never argues but he will make suggestions and will give a warning if someone is approaching who is up to no good or means to harm you.

  “It’s like he feeds on brain waves or feeds on being used. Be very careful talking to him because he will take ya down the rabbit hole and ya can get lost in yer own belly button. Never put him away without wiping the side of yer head with him. It keeps him yours and keeps him on your side and that’s a very good place to have him. He’s not just a blade, none of ‘em are. They all have a spirit, an essence that makes them almost alive.” He took a long pull on his bottle and emptied it. Using his right hand, he yanked Black from its sheath behind his head and laid the flat of the blade over his ear for a split second and threw both the bottle and Knife straight up into the darkness.

  Jake’s gaze followed and he heard a faint ‘Tink’ in the shadows overhead and he looked back at the grinning face of Tony. He stood illuminated in the firelight with both hands held out in an odd parody of the crucifixion. Black fell into his right hand and the long-neck dropped into his left, followed by a small ring of glass that slid over his pinky finger. He threw his head back and laughed as he stepped around the fire towards Jake. His beetle-black eyes held a mischievous glint when he handed the bottle to him.

  Jake examined it in the flickering light and saw that the very top ring had been cut cleanly from the top of the bottle. Tony held up his hand, the ring of glass on his little finger was the perfect match to the top of the bottle. Jake whistled softly and looked at Tony with a new respect and awe. He had told Black what he wanted and it was done, which just brought more questions that had to be answered.

  “Alright ya crazy ol bastard, lemme see if I got this right. Red is a ‘Blood Blade’ that can heal almost any wound and after she has saved yer worthless hide, ya have to make her give you your blood back, all of it. Then, there is Blue who can keep you alive by supplying enough air that you won’t drown or suffocate. Last but not least is Black, the ‘mental’ blade that will do what you ask, even if it involves taking the top off a bottle in the dark. It will knock someone unconscious and change or erase their memory, if ya just ask polite like. That about cover it?” Jake couldn’t keep the bitterness from his voice, he poked the fire and wondered how the hell he had ended up here.

  He thought about the future that could stretch before him. A life unending that extended past his wildest imaginings. Here was Immortality and a chance to make things right, a chance to correct things that should never have been. He had to admit that it was an attractive vision but one that he needed hard answers to. The haunting memory of Tracy, the 11-year-old girl that he had saved from her abusive stepfather and delivered her to her grandparents. If he would have had Black, he could have changed her memory of the past, so that she wouldn’t have felt compelled to do a swan dive off the seventh floor two months later.

  He could see Skittles as she lay bleeding and dying on the floor at the clubhouse from a drive-by shooting. He could have used Red to save her. Then his mind was overwhelmed with memories of the death and suffering that haunted his past. Tony just stared into the fire and poked at it in a random way that said he too was lost in his bygone days.  

  “Can Red heal others, not just you?” Jake queried.

  “Well, yes and no. She was created to kill and give her bearer life, at the victim’s defeat. So, if ya wanna save someone with her, you have to give her your blood in payment. No, not like that. You cut yourself with her and bleed on her a bit and then the person ya wanna save. After that she sucks up your blood and theirs and then she heals ‘em. After that ya have to take your blood back from her. Never forget that, she has to give it back. If ya don’t, she’ll kill ya and take it all. Be very sparing who ya bring back because she’s a wicked bitch. She was made to protect the bearer; everyone else is just blood to her and she’s very fickle.

  “Shuck off yer leather for a minute, I’ll show ya.” He stepped over and pulled Red from her sheath and scored his palm with a deep cut. She drank his blood eagerly and when Jake offered his arm, Tony sliced a 5-inch long, half-inch deep furrow in Jake’s forearm. Jake hissed but held his arm steady as the russet-black blade swallowed his essence. Tony dropped a few splashes of his blood on Jake’s arm, then he held the blade flat on the cut and Jake felt the heat from the Knife knit his wound. When it was removed, there remained only a thin pink scar. Tony healed his hand, then pressed the knife to his own forearm and the familiar grimace made his old face spasm in pain.

  “Ah ya heartless bitch, you’ll have all of it soon enough. God I’m tired of this. Tired of hurting, tired of the voices. I guess I’m just all-in.” He dropped to the ground, facing away from the fire and stared across the lake. Jake grabbed the last two brews and capped them. He went over and dropped down next to Tony and stared out at the night sky. They drank their beers and Jake could hear the Knives whispering in the silence of the night. 109 years, would he make it that long before he found another to bear the burden? He knew he had just the beginning of understanding, the bare essence of the responsibility that came with this obligation he was contemplating accepting.

  “So, what happens to you when you dump these ‘beings’ on me? Do you just ride away, never to be seen again?” Jake was still looking out across the lake, the ageless stars were slowly rising above the horizon and the fire burned at their backs.

  “Haven’t got a clue” was the curt reply. They both stood up, accompanied by several pops and creaks from Tony’s old body. Jake winced in sympathy and thought again about 59 years old for 50 years. The Knives didn’t seem to lessen the pains of old age; they just kept Death at bay until the heaviness of the passing years finally overcame the power the Knives wielded.

  “So what comes now? Do I have to sacrifice a black rooster in the full moon while dancing nekkid around a bonfire?” Jake aimed a smirk at Tony but the old man’s head snapped around and he fixed him with a serious glare. He spit into the fire and seemed to be deep in thought.  

  “No kid, but if you really mean it I’ll walk ya through it. Just remember that once it’s done… it’s done. There ain’t no going back, so ya better wrap yer head around this really tight because they’ll be yours, as long as ya live. There ain’t no going back from this, OK?” He stared at Jake and his hungry black eyes begged him to accept this Fate.

  Jake wondered again, what he was getting himself into but he said “OK, let’s do this.” Tony glared at him for a moment with a cold calculating stare that sent another shiver down Jake’s spine and then he turned away and said, “Go get your bedroll kid.”

  A few minutes later, he and Tony were sitting cross-legged across from each other. The bedroll was laid out, folded in half and the three Knives were laid on it with their dark points facing Tony.

  “Always start this with the points to the Keeper. They know their allegiance and it keeps them focused on you. Ya start with Red because she’s the most jealous.” He picked up Red and sliced a deep cut in his forearm, then let her drink and heal and then he reached out a calloused hand to Jake. He offered his arm, Tony grasped his wrist and there appeared another deep slice in Jake’s forearm. Tony let her drink but didn’t allow her to heal him. He laid her back on the bedroll, pointing at Jake and then picked up Blue.

  He held her near his mouth and let a long breath slide over her, then held it point first at Jake and Jake took a deep breath, let it out onto the Knife and watched as a blue shimmer coated the blade. Tony gave a grim smile and laid the blade back on the bedroll, point towards Jake. Tony took a deep breath, picked up Black and held him against the side of his head for a long moment. He motioned for Jake to lean forward; he then pressed the flat of the blade against the side of his head. Jake heard clearly the voice of Black in his mind; slithery and slick was the voice. Oily and slippery, Black’s voice slid into his thoughts but he heard wisdom, justice and power there too.

  Tony laid the final blade onto the bedroll and let out a long tired sigh. He seemed to shake himself and looked at Jake.

  “Alright, there are only a couple more things to do now. Pick up Red and let her heal ya. Then hold her to yer arm and MAKE her give back yer blood. Well, go on.” When Jake picked up the Knife, he could feel the hilt squirm in his hand; he steeled himself and commanded the blade to obey his will. He felt the healing and then heard a faint shriek and his arm burned as if he had pressed a hot iron there. He could feel the blood when it went back into his arm but he could also feel she was holding back. With a final sigh, she released the last of what she was holding and fell silent.

  “OK, now Blue. Pick her up, shove her as far down your throat as ya can and breathe on her as hard and fast as ya can. You’ll thank me later for it.” So Jake did just that and was amazed how far down his throat that Knife went. He breathed on her hard and fast and deep, because he thought he might have a clue what this was all about; survival.

  “Alright, last one and he’s the trickiest. You have to believe that he’s yours; you have to make him believe he’s yours. He’ll argue but when he says ‘I’m yours’, that’s it and done. Well, go on.”

  Jake didn’t know how long it took for the change to happen but the fire was low and Tony was nodding. He laid Black on the bedroll with the blade facing him and a warm powerful feeling rolled over him. He could hear voices murmuring and the sight of the Knives before him held a comfort he had not felt in a very long time. Tony smiled his crooked smile and picked up Red.

  “Thanks kid!” was all he said before he slipped the red knife into his heart. He watched in shock as Tony’s face paled and in seconds, he had fallen over onto his side. Jake jumped around the fire and with shaking hands felt for a pulse but there was nothing to feel. He yanked Red out of his chest and thought furiously at her “Why did you do that?” With a smooth sultry female voice, he heard her clearly, “He told me to. I’ve been waiting for so long and he was delicious.”

  Jake picked up Black, held him to the side of his head and demanded, “What do I do now?” There was no pause between question and slick answer “Cover him up and go to bed.” Jake ran his hand over his face, took a deep breath and looked around. He gathered the Knives and slipped them into his back pocket, then went to Road Man’s panhead, got his bedroll and stepped back into the fading firelight. When he looked down at Tony, he realized that he had a peaceful smile on his old face and his scarred countenance was at rest, at last. So he straightened out his legs and put his arms across his belly. He saw that there was a run-patch from 1948 for Hollister and another from 1950 for Sturgis. 59 years old for 50 years.

  Once he had the body laid out, he dropped the bedroll over Tony’s face and thought “What the hell am I gonna tell the cops? Well, guess I don’t have to tell ‘em anything. I’ve got Black!” So he stirred up the fire and dropped a couple more pieces of wood on it, rolled out his bedroll and laid down in it and stared up at the uncaring stars. He pulled the Knives out of his back pocket and laid them at his belly and as he dropped off to sleep he could hear the Grateful Dead song “What a long strange trip it’s been.”

  A few hours later, Black woke him up. “There are people coming. Time to move on.” He sat up in a rush of adrenaline and looked at where Tony had been. There was nothing there, no bedroll, no Tony and when he looked back, the old panhead dresser was gone too. Jake shook his head and realized that the only proof that Tony had ever been there, was the three Knives.

  As he rode away from the lake, he could hear his Knives talking to him. Red was hungry, Blue was encouraging him to breath deep and Black was strangely silent until Jake asked “Where to now?” The reply was instant, smooth and somehow reassuring. “East”  

  Chapter 3

  “The Road to Hell is Paved with Good Intensions”

   

   

  When Jake rolled into the campground that night, his mind was on the Knives and the responsibility that he had accepted from Road Man. He set up camp with the practiced ease of a true road warrior. Fire first, then the tarp over the bike that doubled as his lean-to for sleeping. A can of beef stew was soon bubbling over a small pile of coals. As he ate, the Knives talked to him and questioned him about his feelings, his attitudes of Right and Wrong. Good and Evil were discussed as an interesting but impersonal subject.

  Jake knew the Knives were learning about his own personal sense of Honor, his Code, of what he felt was Right and Just. They all asked him questions but Black seemed to be most interested in his answers and quickest to question his thoughts, as though challenging him to examine his closest feelings and beliefs. While they were talking, an argument broke out in the campsite closest to his. The sound of a man berating his woman was strident and underscored with contempt.

  “You stupid bitch, you can’t do anything right! I can’t cook hamburgers without a frying pan and you forgot to bring it? Damn you!” There was the sound of a heavy slap and a small gasp. The two small kids cried out “Stop Daddy!” and Jake stood up. He took a deep breath and heard Red purr, “I want to drink him” and Black’s oily voice whispered ‘Be very careful here, I sense danger.’ Jake heard them both, grabbed his frying pan from the saddlebag and strode towards the other camp.

  “Howdy, I heard that y’all needed a frying pan. I’ve got one I’ll loan ya.” He surveyed the scene and he knew what the score was. The woman had once been a ‘looker’, but her life had scarred her with tragedy, hardship and abuse. There was a fresh bruise starting on her cheek that didn’t hide the older marks on her neck and chest. She looked at Jake with a wary eye and the kids just looked into the fire. They too had bruises on them that spoke of a harsh temper exacted in the heat of the moment.

  The man stepped forward and squinted at Jake. “We don’t need your help, ya ******* tramp. Now leave us alone!” His ruddy face was marked with a tear-shaped tattoo under the corner of his right eye. Jake glanced at the big man’s bare arms and saw his prison tatts. The tattoos told Jake that he had spent over 10 years in the belly of the Beast. He stepped forward and offered his hand. “Over ten years, that’s a long time to spend in the Big House.”

  “What would you know about it, punk? You ever do time, spend every minute of your life being told what to do? You don’t know nothing! Now, leave if ya know what’s good for ya.” He ignored Jake’s hand, turned away and stalked across the campground into the darkness. With his anger gone, there was a collective sigh from the two kids and the woman. “He’s watching” Black whispered. Jake thanked him and said quietly “Do you want the skillet?” She gave a bare shake of her head but he laid the skillet on the tailgate and wandered back to his campsite.

  “Black, do you think you can help him?” This time the answer came slowly, as though the mental blade was chewing his answer.

  “That depends on what you mean by ‘Help him’. Can I take away his anger that has been building all his life, anger at everything and everyone? No. Why do you wish to help this human?” The blade’s slick, oily voice coiled around the inner recesses of Jake’s head and echoed strangely in his ears. He heard the question repeated and ricochet off the inside of his skull, then slide down his spine and crouch directly behind his heart.

  With a slight shake of his head, he growled, “Knock it off Black. Stop twisting my head and answer the question!” So this is what Tony meant by ‘…down the rabbit hole and ya can get lost in yer own belly button’. Talking to Black felt like staring up into an endless sky with no stars, then looking down and seeing the same thing at his feet. He could feel Black’s amusement and then something unexpected from him. Guarded respect.

  “To be so young and to have some wisdom is quite unusual for a human, especially a male. Your kind does not usually develop…”

  “Black, shut up. Answer my question” Jake growled again.

  “I believe I already have. No, I cannot help him, at least not in the way you mean. I believe that none other than the woman herself will deal with this issue tonight. You see, while you focused on the dimwit and postured for his mate, I told her that she had to protect her children. I implanted all that was missing, a spark of courage. It will be up to you to, what is the phrase, ‘come to her rescue’. She of course, will not be able to defend herself or her children from the malevolent being that she has paired with. I think you will rather enjoy being the ‘Rescuer’. That’s why you took us, isn’t it? “To Right Injustice and bring Peace to All?” There was a quiet laugh at the end and an implied smirk.

  “Alright smart ass, first I was not posturing and second… do you know everything I think? Is there any way that I can shut you out of my thoughts, out of my head?” Jake thought he already knew the answer.

  “Of course not and why would you want to shut me out? Your thoughts are much easier to bear than previous humans bonded to me and I actually enjoy grooming your thoughts. You are a mix of danger, heroism and a certain indifference to what others think of you. Therein lies part of your strength and weakness. It is a pleasurable mix.” The blade’s voice was soothing and silky.

  Jake stared at the fire and wondered again; at what he had done when he accepted this responsibility, this burden that he was only starting to grasp the enormity of it. His thoughts strayed to the other campsite, what Black had done and wondered if he would be ready for what was to come. It was time for a walk-about; recon would only help his chances at doing this right. There would only be one chance and he knew that he had the ability, the skill and the heart to kill in defense of another. Just another heart-scar, another ‘kill’ that would pile on top of the others.

  He pulled off his scuffed lace-up riding boots and replaced them with his knee-high moccasins. Thick leather sole and silent even in the bush, they were the best for recon and they felt good on his feet after the heavy riding boots. Just the thing a hero would wear; he grinned at Black and got a feral grin from the blade at his neck. After bonding with the blades, he had immediately fashioned a black leather harness from deer hide that tucked the Knives under each armpit. Jake knew that if he slipped on a black tee shirt, they would virtually disappear. Red lay under his left arm, Blue on the right and Black rested over his right shoulder.

  He watched ‘Camp Dimwit’ cooking burgers in his frying pan and he slipped into the darkness while the head Dimwit was loudly criticizing the efforts of his woman. Jake circled around and came up in front of the truck, hidden by the shadows and watched as the drama unfolded. For every shot of whiskey Dimwit drank, his mood darkened and his actions became meaner and more vicious. Black whispered, “You wanted to help this human? You must be delusional. You should know, one of the children has seen you.”

  Jake’s eyes darted to the where the kids were sitting quietly on the ground. The oldest girl’s eyes had strayed to him and then flicked back to the fire when she saw his gaze on her. He shifted and slipped back around the front of the pickup and crept down the other side. As he lay on his side and looked under the truck bed at the insanity that was unfolding, a dark and intense animosity seized him. Just before he erupted from behind the truck, Black whispered, “Wait for it…”

  Dimwit swung his arm up, exclaimed, “Where’s my burger, bitch?” and his arm collided with the paper plate that held the burger she had just prepared for him. It flew towards the kids and splattered the youngest with hot hamburger and chips. He screamed and clutched his face; Dimwit roared a foul curse and backhanded the woman as he rose from his camp chair. He crossed the short space and slapped the boy and Black said “NOW!”

  The woman jumped on Dimwit’s back, nails scraping his face as she attempted to divert his anger from her child. Jake jumped from his hiding place, slipped Red from her sheath and prepared for a battle that never happened. Dimwit was howling in rage and pain as she clawed his face with her nails. He spun around and staggered towards the fire, tripped on the skillet and fell heavily onto the small pile of firewood. He gave a shuddering groan, shivered violently and was still.

  She rose from his back, gave him a look of utter contempt and went to her children. She wiped the boy’s face, hugged him close and murmured words of quiet comfort then reached for the girl and drew her into a shaky hug. They stood silhouetted in the firelight. Her face primal and fierce, her children protected at her peril. She looked up, saw Jake and pushed her children behind her.

  “Black?” Jake asked silently.

  “Done” was the reply. Jake nodded at her and turned away to leave.

  “I said I was done.” Black remarked, “We still have damage control to accomplish. I have put them in stasis while you allow me to alter their memory of what has happened. When I am done, they will remember him as a stern but fair father that had an unfortunate accident. In addition, I do believe that Red is hungry. Allow her to feed from his body but do not let her drink the blood on the ground. Then we may leave.”

  Jake reached up and slid the black Knife from it’s sheath, crossed quickly to the trio standing unnaturally still in the fire light. He touched each in turn with the blade until Black told him he was done. He replaced Black, pulled Red from under his left arm and approached the dead Dimwit. He stepped carefully so as not to step in the pool of dark liquid that seeped from under the body; Red was gleefully hungry and starting to writhe in his hand.

  He grasped the shoulder of the dead man and lifted him just enough that he could see that a thick branch jutting from a chunk of firewood had impaled his chest. Black told him “Slide her into the wound, she will leave no trace.” While she drank, he glanced at the family released from the anger and bitterness of a man that could not control himself.

  “Red is done, leave now.” The statement left no room for argument and Jake had none, so he slipped into the darkness and returned to his camp. He stirred the fire and got ready for bed, Black said, “No, you MUST leave camp immediately! The authorities will be arriving soon and you must NOT be here.”

  “What about my frying pan?” Jake had never ‘felt’ an eye-roll but it was as plain as the derision in Black’s voice.

  “Perhaps you wish to copulate with the widow while she is in stasis? Would you like to bounce the children upon your knee? Don’t be absurd; douse the fire and do your best to not leave any trace of your presence. They will be lucid within the next fifteen minutes, by which time you must be gone!” The urgency of the Knife’s words lent speed to Jake’s efforts. He kicked his bike to life in less than ten minutes and as he rode away, Black’s sigh of relief was plain in Jake’s mind.

  “Alright Black, what the hell was that all about?” Jake growled. He had never liked being ordered around by people he didn’t trust, which was why his stint in the Marines was a painful memory to him. Following the orders of a green Second-Looie who knew more about the rules than he did his men had been more than enough to last him a lifetime.

  “I have been aware for more than 5,000 of your years; as such I have developed the tendency to command, to compel the human I am bonded with to do what is needed. I cannot control you, only compel or coerce. I said before, you have some wisdom for a young human male. Perhaps I spoke too quickly.” His sly tone and obvious distain brought a quick grin to Jake’s face.

  As he twisted the throttle and thundered into the night, Jake threw his head back and laughed loud and long at the irony of hearing a 5,000-year-old talking knife tell him he had no ‘wisdom’.

  Chapter 4

  The Shadow in Darkness

   

  Srikanth Menes had been standing in the darkness of the alley for over five hours. The odor of the Chinese restaurant wafted past him, the foul stench of the overflowing dumpster and the strong smell of urine had the same effect. He ignored everything except the coming and going employees. He was invisible to any that looked his way, because he was that good. In the 2,000 years that he had been alive, he had learned many things. Patience was just one of those many things.

  A woman scurried out of the back door, burdened by two large black garbage bags and walked straight at Sri as she headed for the overloaded dumpster. She was no more than four feet away from him when she heaved the bags onto the top of the pile and turned to leave. Sri moved silently towards her, his arm went around her throat, cut off her startled cry and pulled her back into the shadows. He held his right hand slightly above her frightened face and she instantly stopped struggling.

  She stood as though petrified, breathing hard but her expression was blank as she stared into Sri’s dark eyes. Their gaze remained locked together for a few moments while Sri looked into her mind for the face he had been hunting, searching for these past years. When he found it, he dug a little deeper then turned her around and gently pushed her towards the back door. She stumbled once but recovered her footing, gave her head a small shake and entered the door without looking back.

   He had seen in her mind the face of the human who called himself ‘Road Walker’, knew that he had been here yesterday and saw that he was tired of his burden. It was easy to see in her memory; the man’s haunted eyes, his sloped-shoulders as though bearing a great weight and the darkness that lay on him. Puny mortal men; unable to understand what a great Power they carried, unknowingly bonded to the greatest treasure known to this planet. The Immortal Knives, The Guiding Edge; to bond with them was to be Immortal, Eternal and All Knowing.

  To be able to harness their powers, bend them to your will and become The One was beyond frail human abilities. He had watched Road Man from afar, using less significant and weaker blades but they showed him just how pitiful the human was. His pathetic mind used the Mystic Blades for insignificant, petty deeds like sexual favors from women, the pilfering of money from cash registers and banks and thievery. Sri only felt disgust at these paltry, feeble attempts at larceny and personal gratification.

  Sri turned and stalked quietly through the shadows towards his rented room and thought about his next move. He knew he could not take control of the Knives by force, nor did he wish to. Only by the sacred ceremony would the Knives be transferred to his Master, the only being on this forsaken planet that had the mental ability and strength of will to truly command them. Sri also knew that the transfer had to be voluntary or it would not work correctly, his memory of previous failures strengthened his resolve to be at the right place and time.

  With his ability to control the lesser Knives he carried, he knew that he could easily compel the pathetic being to follow him to his Master. There the transfer would take place and he, Sri would be elevated to the status that was his legacy, his birthright; High Vizier of the One, Nesu Khnum Khufu, who would subjugate the pitiful beings that infested this world. He would once again reclaim his rightful place, his heritage restored. He would be The One, again.

  Road Walker would divest himself of the Knives soon; the psychic weight the Blades carried was a heavy burden for any human to bear. He would dump his burden on the first unsuspecting soul that came his way and Sri fully intended to be there when it happened. As he stalked through the night sounds of the city, he heard a muffled scream that came from the alley near him. He folded himself into the shadows and approached the sounds of a struggle.

  A large man gripped a struggling woman by her throat, his other hand clamped tightly over her mouth. Sri could see that it would not be long before the woman died. He stepped from the shadows, stood directly behind the man, and slipped his blade deep into his muscular back. He felt the Knife drink the essence of the man and as he shuddered his way into death, Sri dropped him to the ground.

  The woman was on her hands and knees, choking and gasping for air. She looked up into her benefactor’s face and coughed out a weak “Thanks, I owe ya one.” Sri studied her pretty face, dark skin and slim body. She was wearing a short red sweater dress, wide black belt at her waist and a fake fur shrug that she pulled close to her as she stared at Sri. She clambered to her feet and wobbled slightly on the spike heels she wore.

  “You are a prostitute. Would you like the chance to be something else?” Sri did not allow the Knives he carried to influence her choice. She stared at him, using what she called her ‘Client Radar’ and realized that she couldn’t read him. He was dark skinned, average height, maybe 5’10”. He was dressed nice, in dark slacks and an open neck black shirt, short black hair and thickly muscled. The most distinctive, disturbing feature was his eyes. It was dark in the alley but it looked as though his eyes were black. Not just the iris, both of his eyes were fully black with no white showing.

  She blinked twice and realized, it was just a trick of the light, and his eyes looked just fine. Sri held out his hand to her and said, “I am Srikanth, you may call me Sri. I am both rich and powerful. I can take you from this base existence to somewhere that, to be frank, you cannot imagine. I ask only for your freewill to join me in my quest. However, there is a dead man at my feet so I require an answer without delay.”

  “Hi, I’m Amber and I would love to join you on your Quest.” When she clasped his hand, the phrase ‘Cold as the tomb’ flitted across her mind and she realized, just before she disappeared that his eyes really were all black. She drew a shuddering breath and opened her eyes to an opulent bedroom, complete with four-poster bed smothered in rich bedding and more pillows than she had ever seen. Sri was emerging from the bathroom, toweling his dark hair and dripping water onto the rich deep pile carpeting.

  “Please, avail yourself of these mundane facilities. I have chosen clothing for you to wear for the gathering.” Sri casually tossed the towel to the floor, turned to her and stood for a moment, nude and proud. She couldn’t help it when her mouth dropped open slightly, he was impressive. Fine scars crisscrossed his dark skin and followed the lines of his thick muscles that roped their way across his wide frame. A flat, hard stomach and thick powerful thighs framed his manhood at the nexus. She smiled and thought ‘Damn girl, what have you got yourself into? He’s hung like a stud and you better be ready.” She slipped out of her shoes, dropped the belt on the floor, pulled her dress over her head and walked naked, with as much poise as she could muster into the ornate bathroom.

  What had he said, ‘Mundane facilities’? Damn, if this was mundane, she could do this all day long. She showered and shaved with the paper-wrapped razor, then took her cue from him and walked into the bedroom toweling her hair, naked as the day she was born. Sri was dressed in slacks, shirt and shoes. Black seemed to be his color of choice and she had to admit, he looked damn good. He lifted a dress from the door hook and held it out to her.

  “You will wear this tonight, no undergarments. You will speak to none unless spoken to. Your role tonight is my escort and your thoughts should remain in your head. Do you understand?” She took the black dress from him, unzipped the back, stepped into it and turned her back to him. Sri zipped the dress up and clasped the neckline. She turned, kissed his cold cheek and whispered, “I understand perfectly.”

  As they walked out the door, she glanced at herself in the ceiling-to-floor mirror. Her thick black hair clasped at her neck with a wide solid gold band; the black dress was shimmering silken cloth that clung in all the right places and her shoes were perfect. Simple black heels with wraparound straps completed the picture that she could hardly believe was happening to her. ‘Pretty Woman’, indeed!

  The gathering was dreary and dull; no one talked to her or even acknowledged that she was there. That left her free to watch and listen as the men around her spoke to each other. Only, there really wasn’t that much said. They seemed to be speaking or communing mentally. A quick smile or a soft chuckle was the only ‘tell’ that something had been said. She asked herself again, what had she gotten into? When he took her hand and led her from the banquet room, her heart quickened, back to the room and then? Only time would tell…

  Chapter 5

  Knowledge is Power

   

  As Jake rode into town, he was starting to realize he had no clue how powerful his riding companions were. Now was not the time to be thinking about that, he still needed a place to sleep and he could smell his nervous sweat when he stopped at a traffic light.

  “Well boys and girls, how about a motel tonight? I need a shower.” He pulled into a Stop & Rob for a six-pack and when he wheeled his bike into the motel room, the bed looked very inviting. First things first though; he tucked an open phone book under his bike as a diaper, stripped his riding clothes off of his lean, road-hardened body and stepped into a hot shower. Twenty minutes later, he was sitting naked on the bed and the three knives lay before him.

  “Alright, Tony said that you’re the most jealous so I’ll talk to you first Red. Tell me everything that you can do.” He held the Knife up and examined her; the fine lines that graced her red-black surface were somehow familiar. He saw that they moved when he stared at them but looked solid when glanced from the side. He placed his thumb on the lines, stared hard and he felt them move under his finger. Well, it wasn’t just a visual thing, they actually moved. He realized it had been several moments since his query to Red, which was unusual.

  He noticed that now all the Knives were silent and that was very odd. He closed his eyes, let out a slow breath and stretched out his awareness towards them. Their consciousness washed over his in a soothing but guarded way and they seemed to be waiting for something. “Red, I asked you to tell me everything that you can do. Answer me now.” Jake kept his mental tone gentle but firm. Red had always seemed to be like a young woman, even if she did drink blood and knew how to kill and heal.

  “What do you want me to do?” was the breathy, cautious reply. “I can do anything you want me to, as long as it means I can feed. I am only limited by your will.” Caught off his guard, Jake couldn’t think of what to say. Moving images roved across the inside of his mind; a man was running and ducked behind a tree. Red flashed around the shaft of the tree and buried herself in his neck. A terrified figure hidden in a steamer trunk, pierced suddenly through the eye by the red blade when it blasted through the side. A woman careened down a street in an old car, frantic to escape. The Red blade followed her in a blur around two left turns, slid through the back window and made a U-turn into her chest.

  “Holy shit, OK Red I get the idea … that’s enough.” He could feel her pout; she went into a sulk with a whispered “You asked.” He said, “Yeah, guess I did. Thanks for sharing.” She felt a little happier while Jake mentally chewed on what she had just shared. She could go around corners, through safety glass, through the wall of a trunk and didn’t seem to be stopped by abrupt changes in direction. That could be very handy in a tight spot.