And It Arose from the Deepest Black (John Black Book 2) (10 page)

16

“You have a secret underground lair?” I said, turning to take in the room.

Pip huffed, tossing her sword onto a low table. “I have a
place to stay
, asshole.”

“Children, please!” Bobby interjected. “
Language
.” He smirked, too enamored with his own joke.

My eyes widened as I took in more and more of Pip’s “place to stay.” Maybe at some point vacationers or college-age beach goers had rented it for cheap. She told us it was several miles from the water — a small, basement apartment, embedded under a house that seemed abandoned. Whether said abandonment was recent — in other words, Gorgol-induced — I had no idea, but I assumed so. The walls and appliances were intact, and seemed well-kept. More importantly, there were working lights, which meant electricity, and a phone in the corner that still had a dial tone. Someone had bugged out in a hurry.

The apartment opened onto a small living room with a narrow kitchen. Past a closet that might have been a pantry, there was a short hall that ended on two doors — a bathroom in front, and a bedroom to the right. The furniture was worn but not worn out. Still, the whole place had the feel of my Aunt Cindy’s place. A sort of time warp of patterned decor and rounded corners in colors that shouted, “This stuff has been here for a while!”

But that wasn’t what stood out. Around the living room, Pip had made some modifications. Every open wall had been adorned with peg board, and every peg board held weapons. Swords, daggers, knives, machetes. But no guns. In fact, nothing that fired a projectile of any kind, not even bows or crossbows. All blade weapons.

“Why no guns?” I asked without remembering how
anything
I said seemed to annoy Pip.

She got annoyed. Shocker.

“For people like us,” she said, flipping a curl of red hair out of her face as she gestured to herself, Bobby, me, “guns are useless. We need hand weapons.”

Bobby beat me to the obvious question. “Why?”

“We can dodge bullets. We can even throw bullets with our minds, but what would be the point? The Gorgols seem impervious to them. And anyone else like us could just throw them back.” Pip pulled out her sword again, eyeing it as she guided it in slow arcs before us. “But a weapon in your hand. A sword. It takes on some of your powers. It’s a natural extension of
us
.”

“
A natural extension
,” I repeated. It had to be true. After all, my department-store leather belt wasn’t normally capable of chopping down trees.

“Yeah.”

I pondered the idea for a moment. “What can you do with it?”

It seemed that the simple act of me speaking was enough to grate on Pip. I had to try to remember Bobby’s words, that she might be scared of me. It didn’t seem that way at all, talking to her. She looked like she wanted nothing more than to buy me a one-way bus ticket to somewhere far away. Still, she explained. “You can fight. If you try very hard, study, maybe you can win.” Pip eyed me a moment, twisting up her mouth. That curl of red hair drooped over her face again, and she tossed it aside with a tilt of her head. Pip was pretty, make no doubt. The hair flip was, well,
interesting
. It suddenly came back to me that at one point, when she existed only in my dreams, I thought of her as my dream girl. Then she asked a perplexing question. “Have you read the Codex Wallerstein? Talhoffer 1467?”

I wrinkled up my forehead. “You might as well have just said
banana, banana, banana
.”

Pip sighed, heavy and hard. Then she walked to the only chair in the room and dropped into it. “This is impossible. We have to act now, before more people get killed, and you guys aren’t ready. You’re worried about these things getting to your sister and yet you don’t know anything, can’t do anything. Why did you even come out here?”

I looked at Bobby in a sort of
what the heck is her deal?
way. Bobby shrugged and tried to smooth things over. “Listen, Pip. We came to help. If we have to read the Talisman 1492 or the Wolfenstein Code, you know, we’ll do it.” I raised an eyebrow at him, both for his butchering of the titles and because I knew he was more likely to use a book to prop up one corner of a table than to read it. “Well, we’ll try. Honest.” He put his hand over his heart and made some sort of salute.

Pip sniffed at the air. “What’s that smell? Oh, yeah, it’s bullshit.” She sat there a moment, looking back and forth between us. Then she must have decided something. “Fine. Come outside,” she said.

* * *

Pip led us to a backyard ringed by a high fence. The neighboring houses were farther away than I was used to back home, meaning that rather than seeing adjacent windows looking down on us, it seemed we were 100-percent private. In all honesty, I was glad. We looked pretty stupid.

Bobby, Pip, and I each held a long sword. A freaking
sword
. I kid you not. As a guy who grew up in the suburbs, I’d only seen swords in museums or at the Renaissance Festival. Sure, like everyone who attended the Ren Fest — you do, don’t you? — I always picked up the demo swords at the booth where they were sold, and I would play-fight with my friends, quoting movies like a dork. But despite my demonstration with the belt, the idea of actually swinging a sharp metal object with the intent of cutting or killing someone was completely alien to me. I didn’t know if I had it in me. Plus, I just felt like an idiot.

“Try to hit me,” Pip said. To me.
Why do I have to go first?

“Me?” I said, stalling for time.

“No,” she replied. I sighed with relief. “Both of you together.”

“Pip, I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” Bobby said. “We don’t want to hurt you or anything.”

In response, Pip lashed out with the flat side of her blade, hitting Bobby in the head faster than his body could react. He flew across the yard and slammed into the fence, rattling the wood slats. Though unharmed, Bobby certainly looked ticked off. He stood and raised his long metal blade with both hands. “Have it your way,” he said, just before launching himself straight for Pip.

She met him halfway, dropping her own sword and reaching out for Bobby’s blade with both hands, using his own momentum to pull and carry him too far, then wrenching the sword free. As soon as she gained control of it, Pip swung the sword by its blade, clobbering Bobby with the hilt end like a hammer. Bobby’s body shifted, but not far enough, not fast enough. The blow sent him crashing straight down, face first in the dirt and grass, with a loud
Oof
.

“That’s called the
murder stroke
,” Pip said, still holding Bobby’s sword by its blade. “Effective, don’t you think?”

I grinned, a silly, pandering grin toward Pip. “‘Murder stroke’? That’s… lovely.”

She relaxed, letting the sword fall to her side, and allowing Bobby to get up. “And that’s your first lesson, boys. The point of it was this: You don’t know anything. Nothing at all. Take a breather, we’re doing this again soon.”

17

“Where’d you learn this crap? It wasn’t from Sol,” Bobby said as we snacked on peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwiches in Pip’s kitchen.

Pip huffed. “Sol was a pompous ass. He was powerful, but…” For a quick moment, Pip looked my way. “You need to think about this, boys. You can learn from
anything
, not just from people like us. There are hundreds of years of warfare strategy written down. Read some of it.”

Bobby didn’t respond, he just smirked and nodded. An expression we all knew meant
Thanks, but no thank
s
.

Pip dropped her sandwich. “Do you think your enemy — maybe not this one, but the next, or the one after that — is so blissfully unaware of war tactics? If that’s the case, you’ll win every time. But what if she or he or it’s not? What if your opponent has spent a bit of time
learning
?” She raised the sandwich and took a healthy bite, chewing slowly. “Worst-case scenario: What if your enemy is as powerful as you, John Black?” I was stunned she addressed me directly. “You need something else on your side. I think knowledge and tactics are the difference makers.” Pip swallowed. “Without those, you’re dead.”

It was the first time Pip jump-started my anger. That little fire started up inside. “But I beat Sol without studying tactics,” I said.

Pip took a final bite, leaving nothing but crust. Then she tossed the remainder of her sandwich into a white plastic trash can on the side of the kitchen, in a huff. “Did you ever think you just got lucky? Sol underestimated you. Don’t expect that from every opponent, or you won’t live much longer.”

“Look,” I said. “I don’t plan on having more fights.”

“Then I hope your luck holds, because you don’t have anything else on your side any more.” Again, she brushed a lock of curls out of her eyes. “People with power… they draw attention. Why do you think Holly has needed you? Because she
draws attention
.” Then Pip ducked out to the backyard again.

* * *

“Why do you want to fight the Gorgols?” Pip asked, sun glinting off her red hair as we stood in the afternoon light of the back yard.

There was a long pause. We were tired and sweaty from fighting each other. Well, Bobby and I were tired of getting our butts kicked. Pip seemed fine.

“For my sister,” I said, lowering my sword to the ground.

Pip blinked sweat out of her eyes. “And that’s all?”

“To stop the killing. To save people,” Bobby said.

“To be a hero?” Pip asked.

Bobby scratched the side of his head with one ruddy hand. “Sure, I guess.”

“With superpowers. You want to be a superhero?” Pip smiled. And she looked at me.

I almost answered. Almost.

Yeah. That’s what I wanted. I wanted to slay the dragon and have someone look at me and say
Wow, nice job!

Which was a lie. I might be flattered by that, but it wasn’t the real why.

I wanted to fight because something about the idea of fighting was appealing to me.

I almost answered.

Then Pip shifted and asked Bobby the same question. “You want to be a superhero?”

“Well, it sounds kinda ridiculous when you put it that way,” Bobby said, shoulders drooping.

“Why?” Pip asked, with renewed energy. “Before, with Sol, you and I were absolutely lining ourselves up to be super villains. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t think
you
did. I always thought you were trying to bring out the good in Sol.”

Pip laughed. “Maybe I was for a while, but that was a losing battle. At some point I realized he was always going to be a villain. Just listening to him talk, especially the way he talked to normal people, and you knew he was just
bad
.”

“And that’s why I left,” Bobby replied. “But you didn’t.”

Pip’s face darkened and wrinkled with anger. “I made a
choice
.”

“The choice to stay with evil?” I asked.

Pip wheeled on me. “The choice to help
your
sister, John Black. Everyone else had left. Bobby, Petrus, Margrethe. If I had left, too, your sister would have been alone with Sol. Would you have preferred that?”

“No,” I muttered, not sure of what to say. “Thank you. Thanks for what you did.” I looked at my shoes.

“You don’t need to thank me. I did it because I thought it was right. Just like I think fighting the Gorgols is the right thing to do now. It’s just interesting how both choices amount to the same thing, helping your sister. But now…” She turned to Bobby and started to smile. “Rather than being villains — or worse, just being some villain’s henchmen — we have a chance to be heroes. Doesn’t that feel…
better
?”

Bobby started to nod, a smile growing on his face like Pip’s. He laughed. “Yeah, I suppose so. But calling
us
superheroes still sounds ridiculous.” Then Bobby thought of something. “You know what they call you, right?”

Pip rolled her eyes. “Sadly, yes.
Red Hope
. But you guys better get ready. Once we do this thing, people will see you. They’re gonna call
you
something, too.” She laughed, jabbing a finger in our direction. “But if you don’t want them knowing who you are, you’re going to need masks like mine. Come with me.” Pip led us inside, to the pantry-closet thing, where she pulled open the accordion-style door. Lining the shelves inside were boxes and cans of food, bottles of soda, bags of snacks. She knelt down and picked up two things from the lowest shelf, tucked back far where we would never have noticed them — a black hooded mask and a yellow one. “I figured we’d meet, especially once you started making all that noise in my head. I figured you’d need these.”

“
IWANTTHEBLACKONE!
” Bobby and I said simultaneously, hands reaching for the same mask. Pip pulled the masks back before we could start fighting over them.

“Jinx, you owe me a soda,” Bobby said with a half-hearted laugh.

“I guess you boys are going to need to work this out,” Pip said.

“Nah,” I said, taking a step back. “You can have the black mask, Bobby.” So gracious of me. Inside, I was kicking myself.

“Yes!” Bobby snatched the mask from Pip’s hands and raised it to his head to try it on. But he never did. He stopped. And then he held it out to me. “You earned it, Johnny. You took down Sol.”

It was such a silly thing for us to argue over or even care about. A black piece of cloth versus a yellow one. And why the hell didn’t Pip just get
two
black masks?
Probably to test us.To see how juvenile we ar
e
.

“Besides,” Bobby said, shaking the mask in his hand for me to take it. “You’re John Black. You need the black mask.” I nodded a thanks.

What had we become? A trio of superheroes. Or wannabe superheroes. It was utterly laughable. So of course, we tried on our masks. “You look ridiculous, by the way,” Bobby said. We stood in the living room, admiring each other’s absurd appearance. Bobby’s yellow hooded mask covered his entire head except for a generous opening around his eyes, presumably large enough to ensure decent range of vision.

“I know what they’ll call us,” I said, tugging off my black mask. “Blackbird and Canary Man.”

“Those names don’t really work with mine. Red Hope is so much more majestic,” Pip said, unable to stifle a laugh.

In a moment, we were all laughing.

* * *

Forty-eight hours later, all we had done was eat, sleep, and train. I can’t say it was very helpful or effective. I mean, I had no idea how long Pip had trained with a sword, but I was pretty sure a few sessions for Bobby and me wouldn’t make much of a difference. The only benefit I noticed was that the sword felt less alien in my hands.

“How are you so good at this?” I asked Pip at one point when Bobby excused himself.

I could tell Pip was a little embarrassed by the question. “My dad,” she said. “He was a big nerd. Into all sorts of medieval fighting techniques. He taught me from a pretty young age. When he was in a good mood, that is.” Pip effortlessly slipped her sword back into the vertical scabbard on her back. I didn’t know much about medieval fighting, but I assumed her back-scabbard was a more modern adaptation. “What about you? Your dad teach you anything cool? Anything useful?”

I thought about my father, and was unable to meet Pip’s eyes. “I think so.”

“What?”

“One time when I was using my powers for no good reason, I accidentally killed my father.” I didn’t say that to be dramatic. It was the truth. I didn’t feel like hiding it or beating around the bush.

Pip looked down. “I’m sorry.” She let the words hang. Maybe she didn’t know what else to say. Maybe she was letting those two words hold their own weight for a moment. “My dad’s gone, too. Just so you know.”

“How?”

“Lung cancer. It took a while. At the end it was really… terrible. If I could use my powers to cure lung cancer — well, any cancer, really — I’d do it. Even after he was…”

Was what?
She trailed off and I thought of the thorns. Were they cancer-proof? I had no idea. There was a long and rather uncomfortable silence, until I finally spoke. “Morality.”

“Huh?” Pip replied.

“That’s what my dad taught me. To try to do what’s right.”

Pip and I held each other’s glance for a long time. Finally, she nodded. I think at that moment she accepted me. Her gesture wasn’t just the vacant pleasantry of casual human interaction. She nodded to someone she respected. Something had changed between us. “And that explains why you’re here. You’re doing what’s right. Not just for your sister, but for the world.”

At just that moment, we heard the muffled sound of a toilet flush. Water ran, easily for three seconds, then Bobby opened the bathroom door. “All right. I’m ready for day 468 of Pip’s Master Classes in Nuking Hot Dogs and Learning Sword Fighting. Who’s in?”

“Very funny, jerk,” Pip replied.

Two days. We’ve been here two full days already. She’ll think we’re dead. And what if the cars full of photographers have come back?
“That reminds me,” I said. “I need to call my mom.”