Children of the Knight (7 page)

Now it was his turn to look thoughtful as they moved away from the window and continued up the boulevard toward the Chinese Theatre. But now, as they walked, Lance began to see the world around him,
his
world, through Arthur’s very-foreign eyes, and suddenly it didn’t look so great anymore, all that street life and freedom he’d embraced for so long. Now, suddenly, it all looked pretty sad and sorry and… empty.

T
HEY
ended up at Eucalyptus Park in Hawthorne later that night because Lance wanted to show Arthur some of his skating moves. Even though the skate park was closed, Lance knew how to sneak in, as did all the neighborhood kids. It was well after midnight, and the area was deserted. It was a small skate park, no really big or daring ramps, but it was good enough to hone his skills on, and Lance had used it often.

He regaled the delighted Arthur with a series of flips and spins and ollies, ups and downs on the various ramps, high-flying stunts, heel flips, calf wraps, space walks—Lance’s repertoire seemed endless. He always landed clean, always completed his moves with ease. Arthur found himself clapping with joy, much as he had as a child when Merlin used to do magic for him.

Finally tired and sweaty, Lance skated over to Arthur and plopped down beside him. “What’d ya think?” he asked, breathless, pushing matted hair off his face.

Arthur grinned at him. “I think ye be a marvel, young Lance. In my day we had jousts and swordplay and feats of strength, but nothing to equal the grandeur of thy movements. Ye soared like a majestic hawk.”

Lance beamed with pride and flushed with embarrassment. “Thanks, Arthur. Nobody believes me, but I’m gonna be in the X Games one day. And I’m gonna win.”

Arthur grinned again. “I’ve no doubt, my boy.”

Lance smiled again, his eyes wide with gratitude.

Arthur cleared his throat. “Lance, what doth be ‘The X Games’?”

Lance threw back his head and laughed. He hadn’t laughed in so long it almost hurt his stomach. “I forgot you come from back in the day.
Way
back! Dude, the X Games is only the biggest skate competition in the world. They got ramps ninety-six feet straight down! And I’m gonna get me a gold medal.”

Arthur nodded with a smile, thanking God, and no doubt Merlin, for leading him to such an amazing boy.
Lance is the perfect First Knight
, he thought to himself as he reached out and clapped the boy on the shoulder.

Lance’s smile suddenly vanished, and he leapt to his feet. “What you doing, man?”

Caught off guard, Arthur looked up at him in bewilderment. “I didst merely intend to congratulate thee on thine achievements.”

Lance backed away and gripped his board in a defensive posture, as though he might use it as a weapon. His breaths came in short gasps, almost hyperventilating.

“Lance, what doth be troubling thee?”

Lance forced calm into his voice, forced air into his lungs.

Breathe, Lance, breathe… it’s okay… it’s okay….

“Sorry, Arthur,” he weakly muttered, his stomach churning, his nerves fraying. “I just… I just don’t like no one touching me. Okay?”

Arthur nodded, not moving nor doing anything to further rattle the boy. “Okay,” he said.

Lance looked at Arthur, uncertainty dancing across those poignant green eyes. “Are you mad at me?”

Arthur shook his head but remained unmoving. “Of course not. Thou hast been a blessing to me. I doth be eternally grateful for thy help and thy presence.”

Lance smiled again, his racing heart drawing down, his breathing returning to normal. “I’m sorry. It’s just….”

Arthur held up a hand to silence the boy. “There doth be no explanation required, my boy.”

Lance blushed, glad of the darkness to obscure it, and glanced down at his prized skating shoes. “Thanks, Arthur.”

He dropped the board to his side as Arthur stood, and they walked quietly for a time further into the park proper. They approached a well-worn swing set and rusted-out jungle gym, Arthur sadly noting the graffiti scrawled all over the benches and play area.

Lance halted near the rusty swings. “This be one of my favorite places, Arthur, not just cuz of the skate park, neither.”

Arthur stopped beside him, cautiously eyeing the boy for fear of frightening him again. “Why is that?”

“You won’t think me no girly-boy if I tell ya, will you?”

“I doth not know what a ‘girly-boy’ is.” He smiled to reassure Lance that no derision would be forthcoming.

Lance glanced at the man shyly. “Sometimes, late at night like now, when there ain’t nobody around, I like to do the swings, ya know?”

Arthur nodded. “Show me.”

Lance glanced furtively around again, then eagerly, almost like a small child, leapt onto the nearest swing and started it moving. Kicking off with his legs, he soon had the swing soaring like a bird, almost at a ninety-degree angle to the ground, his long hair flying back like a cape. The chains creaked and groaned ever more loudly with pain the higher Lance flew.

Arthur gaped at him in wide-eyed amazement, his own sense of childlike wonder coming to the fore.

“C’mon,” Lance called from way up high. “Try it. It’s awesome!”

Arthur hesitantly stepped to the swing next to Lance’s and sat down gingerly within the soft, curved seat. He attempted to move the swing, but scrunched his face in confusion when nothing much happened.

Wildly swinging, Lance laughed with delight at Arthur’s puzzlement. “Kick out wit’ yer feet, Arthur!” he called. “Push against the ground and kick up when you start moving.”

Arthur followed the boy’s instructions, and the swing began to move haltingly. After a few moments he got the hang of this simple, yet delightful, invention. Soon, a big smile breached his bearded face as they swung side by side, Arthur soaring nearly as high as his protégé.

Lance could not help but laugh with joy. “Great, huh?”

Arthur joined him in laughter. “It doth make me feel so free.”

Lance laughed even harder. Next to skating, this was his favorite thing to do. “I know!”

Filled with joy, the two friends swung back and forth for neither knew how long. Freedom had no time limit. They simply
were
, together, just being. And that was enough.

Chapter 2

W
ITHIN
the Hollenbeck station, Ryan and Gibson stood before a large map of Los Angeles. Placed at varying points within the map were pushpins of differing colors. Both men noted the locations of the pins, attempting to triangulate from where the mysterious tagger might be coming.

“The guy’s gotta live someplace, Gib,” Ryan grumbled, chewing on a pencil, “and it’s likely somewhere centralized. How else could he be hitting these different ’hoods and vanishing without a trace?”

Gibson shook his head, slightly loosening his tie and collar. He always wore a tie to work, ever since his promotion to detective. He believed the look made him more respectable in the eyes of superiors and perps alike. Ryan, on the other hand, preferred the rumpled look: open collar, wrinkled brown or beige jackets, khaki Dockers, ratty sneakers. He’d been with the department so long he didn’t give a rip what anyone thought. Truth be told, that was what Gibson liked most about him.

“If he does, and anyone knows where, they’re not talking,” Gibson remarked. “I think we’ve been getting the truth, Ry. My gut tells me this guy’s a loner. Got his own private agenda going on out there.”

Ryan turned from the map to face his partner, talking around the pencil between his teeth. “I agree. Which will make him that much more of a bitch to apprehend.” He snapped the pencil in two with his teeth and spat the pieces onto his desk. “Hell, we don’t even have a description! This guy’s a freakin’ shadow man.”

Ryan hated weird cases like this one, and Gibson knew that about his partner. Ryan liked cases nice and clean. Murder for hire. Drive-by. Domestic abuse. Murder-suicide. Standard-issue stuff. But this case, hell, it was going nowhere and the mayor’s office had begun riding them for a quick resolution.

“Any brilliant ideas, Gib?” Ryan asked, grabbing another pencil and absently gnawing on the eraser end.

Gibson took the pencil from his partner and tossed it on the desk. “Yeah, Ry, we go home. Look around you, partner. It’s late, and there’s nobody here but us. I gotta call my son, and you’ve gotta get some rest before you eat every pencil we have.” He tried a smile, but fatigue turned it into a grimace.

Ryan sighed, reaching for his rumpled tweed jacket hanging from his chair. “You’re right. Ain’t gonna accomplish anymore tonight. Maybe a new day will give us new ideas, or there’ll be another riot to put down.” He grinned wryly.

“Let’s hope not. Last two weeks have been quiet. If we’re really lucky, this guy’s left to pick on some other city, like New York.”

Ryan chuckled. “Doubt we’d get that lucky.”

The two exhausted men slowly trudged from the station, leaving the night skeleton crew to take care of business.