The New Adventures of Richard Knight Read online

“Allow me to introduce myself, I am Sir Fran…” The Grandmaster began to say, bowing briefly. His words were put off by a blaze of gunfire spitting from both of Knight’s pistols. Unlike the lesser vampires Knight defeated earlier, the Grandmaster’s now ruined face immediately began to heal.

  Chuckling, the Grandmaster moved forward and lifted Knight up off the ground with one hand. He held the large Richard Knight easily. The military intelligence officer now dangling off the ground may as well have been a mouse struggling against a python.

  “Bullets?” He asked with a guffaw, “I was immune to those weapons since the time your country was a barely explored colony. I have no weakness, little man. You will learn that over the centuries you serve me.”

  “Never,” Knight managed to gasp, raising the pistols again and watching as they were slapped aside.

  The Grandmaster chuckled and suddenly began to transform, his body shifting into the bat form similar to his followers…yet this was so much more terrifying. While the others were close to human size, the former Englishman was enormous, over nine feet tall, a twisted undead parody of life. The teeth in his horrific maw were huge, as long as a man’s hand and sharper than that of a shark or similar predator.

  “You cannot fight me, little man. Cease your struggles and I will make this fast. Otherwise I will shatter your mind and body and force you to beg for my embrace,” the Grandmaster intoned, pulling Knight closer.

  Richard Knight closed his eyes and slumped in the Grandmaster’s grasp, his surrender causing the former Englishman to chuckle and pull him closer. Opening his huge mouth wide, he aimed his teeth for the jugular vein, preparing to convert the American quickly and with only a bit of agony.

  Just as the teeth were about to clamp down, Richard Knight exploded into action! Pulling his second grenade from his belt, he yanked the pin and threw it hard into the vampire’s huge mouth. With his other hand the military intelligence officer pulled out his knife and stabbed the monster under the chin, pinning the jaws together! Knight then lifted both of his feet and kicked hard, freeing himself and sending his body sailing across the deck!

  Rolling further away, Knight covered his head as the loud explosion filled the airship’s interior. Looking up, the wreckage that was once the Grandmaster was a revolting site, especially since he was slowly healing. But the sheer devastation of the vampire’s body would ensure that rebuilding process to take weeks, possibly months. More than enough time for Richard Knight to ensure this monster would never harm another living creature.

  ***

  “A coffin?” The Grandmaster wheezed three days later, his body still a horrible wreck almost as destroyed as it had been by his fall into the volcano. “This will hold me only for a short time. Then I will return, greater than ever!”

  The metal coffin lid was open and the Grandmaster’s body was bound within with heavy steel chains. Richard Knight opened the box after placing the vampire and his new home into the deep pit, wanting the monster to be aware of his final moments in the world of humanity.

  “No, you won’t. Goodbye,” Knight replied and climbed out of the pit. He reached for the cement mixer’s lever and pulled, watching as a ton of quick drying substance poured down on the monster. The coffin lid slammed shut, the crate filled with cement and the pit began to quickly fill. It was only moments before only the gray hardening cement was visible, the pit gone. The cement was to be poured in the morning, so the workers would no doubt be grateful at being able to move to the next part of the project.

  Another job done, Richard Knight turned and walked away. He paused to look back at the sign over the site, apparently this structure was going to be called the Empire State Building. Knight nodded. Here was hoping it would last…

  THE END

  CRIMES OF THE ANCIENTS

  by Adam Lance Garcia

  It was a mistake, but then again, it usually was.

  Bullets laced through the sky, hot streaks of white slicing into the hull of Richard Knight’s Beechcraft Model 17 Staggerwing. He swung the joystick hard to the left, whipping the plane into a tight spin, but it was no use. Led by a familiar red Continental R-670, the five pursuing planes quickly followed suit, unleashing an unending volley of gunfire. The Flying Banshees; he should have known better. He silently cursed himself for being so naïve, so damn foolish; but there were no time for recriminations, right now all that mattered was survival.

  Knight dipped the nose of the Beechcraft forward into a steep dive straight toward the ground. It was a gamble—the Banshees were top notch pilots—but no one would be crazy enough to try and skim the tops of the forest. At least he hoped so. The propeller screamed and the joystick rattled in his hands as the trees came up fast to introduce themselves. He gritted his teeth. He had to wait for the last minute to pull up; the very last second. He counted down… Three… Two…

  Gravity drove him into his seat as he pulled back on the joystick and the Beechcraft launched back up into the air. In the distance, between the metal and the wind, he could hear the pop-pop-pop of the enemy fighters barreling into the forest one after another. He stuck his tongue into his cheek and fought back a self-satisfied laugh.

  But the victory was appropriately short-lived. A drum roll of bullets echoed through the plane—one whispering past his arm—and more than a dozen hitting the engine. Knight glanced out the window and saw the red Continental R-670 swing alongside. The pilot gave him a crooked smile and a wave goodbye before banking to the right and off to the horizon. Knight fought back an angry grin. He could fool some people all of the time, but he could never fool her.

  He let out a series of expletives as the engines ignited, filling the cockpit with smoke, a scent like bacon cooking on a Sunday morning with the noticeable tang of fossil fuel. The dials spun wildly, clockwise and counter; back and forth, back and forth. Through his fogged up goggles, Knight saw the earth spin like a top, blue and green blurring together. He worked the controls one-handed, keeping the crystal close to his chest. It was Crystal, with a capital “C,” he reminded himself, it was that damned important. He should’ve known better—he really should have. Normally, he was never a sucker for a pretty face; that was Doyle’s job. Outside of Benita there was only one other woman who had ever held any sway over him and whenever she came back into the picture Knight would cross all seven levels of Hell and Damnation if it meant getting one on the lips. Though, more often than not, he only ended up getting bruises and a few broken bones, with an ego and heart to match. Not for the first time he thanked God he had left Doyle passed out drunk under a bar table back in Casablanca; Knight could handle hearing “I told you so” only so many times.

  According to his instruments he was somewhere over the Congo, but his eyes told him differently. He was somewhere else. Where exactly “somewhere else” was still up for debate, but Richard Knight didn’t bother with theories, he just dived in headfirst, hoping to make it out on the other side of the mirror. Now all he needed to do was land… if he could find the ground first. The smoke had gotten worse, the fog on his goggles even more so; he was flying blind. Not that this was anything new, of course, but that didn’t make it any less frustrating.

  Smoke snuck into his lungs and Knight let out a vicious cough, little red roses of blood blossoming on his scarf. Well, that wasn’t good. At least if he died today it would be doing something insanely heroic. So there was that. But, first, he had a promise to keep. He pushed the throttle forward, sending the Beechcraft into a dive, praying to God he was heading in the right direction.

  “I know we haven’t gotten along recently,” Knight said to the dying plane, admittedly thankful his Northrop was being serviced back home. “And I’m sorry about that. This is how my relationships go. Short and sweet with a little bit of gunfire,” Knight said ironically. “But do me one last favor? Wait another five minutes before you explode? It would mean the world to me.” Something beneath the control sputtered and flames began licking out through the machinery. Knight sighed. “An
d here I was hoping we could stay friends.”

  There were two options, neither of which were pleasant.

  Option one was landing. The last he had checked—before everything had gone smokehouse—the valley below him was filled with trees, lakes and hills—not the best materials for an impromptu runway. He could try and aim for somewhere reasonably flat or ditch into a lake, but that was assuming he could see… and that the plane wouldn’t go Hindenburg. That left too many variables for Knight’s liking. Which left option two, which was stupid. Not that it had ever stopped him before. Besides, he had done worse, he was sure of it; even though he couldn’t remember what that had been.

  There was a pop of glass as the dials began to erupt one after another; looked like the decision had been made for him.

  “Sweetheart,” Knight said, kicking open the door. “It’s been fun.” He tucked the Crystal inside his jacket, unlatched his belt and slid out into the sky.

  If only had he remembered to pack his parachute.

  ***

  It was oddly refreshing, the air rushing around him, if only he could breathe. It was like getting trapped in a hurricane, the wind so strong it sucked the oxygen right out of your mouth before you got it into your lungs. But it wasn’t wind this time. It was just gravity pulling him in to say hello. Somewhere high above there was a rattle of metal and heat as the Beechcraft Model 17 Staggerwing exploded out like a grenade. Well, at least that was one mistake he didn’t make today; he’d have to add it to the short list.

  Ripping off his fogged goggles, Knight squinted at the world barreling toward him and spotted a lake less than a mile away. There was no way of knowing how shallow it was, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. He had only seconds to do this right. Wrapping his hands around the crystalline lump in his jacket, Knight angled himself roughly forty-five degrees toward the lake, give or take forty-five degrees. If he guessed this right, and Good Lord he hoped he had, the water would absorb most of the impact. How long had he been falling? Five seconds? Ten? At fourteen he would reach terminal velocity and fifteen it wouldn’t matter what he did, his story would be over. The lake zoomed closer, filling his vision. A dark blue that hopefully meant depth; shallow meant dead. Knight took a deep breath, tucked in his chin, wrapped his arms tightly around the Crystal, closed his eyes and waited for impact.

  ***

  Knight gasped as he broke through the surface, sounding like a scream. Pain. Everything was pain. Wiping the water from his eyes, he glanced up at the fading black spot that had been his Beechcraft Model 17 Staggerwing, tendrils of smoke dripping down like legs of wine on a glass. He hadn’t even had a chance to name it. Pity.

  He started paddling toward shore, a sharp pain shooting through his abdomen. He had broken a rib, probably two. Nope. Three. He was going to be sore tomorrow. Despite the pain, he swam toward the shore in short, agonizing strokes, always keeping one armed wrapped around the Crystal. It seemed so ridiculous that such a big deal was made over such a tiny little thing, but that was the way of the world wasn’t it? Whichever world he was on.

  No, he couldn’t think like that. He was on Earth, Terra Firma, as far as he could tell. If he started thinking anything else he would probably go as mad as Xander Victor.

  Knight’s muscles were burning in agony when finally he dug his fingers into the soft mud of the shore. He dragged himself, shivering, out of the water until his head reached the grass and fell onto his back, gulping short, shallow breaths in between bloody, phlegm-filled coughs. The sun beat down, but Knight knew it wouldn’t stay aloft much longer. Night was approaching like a scorned lover eager for retribution. He needed to get moving again.

  “Two minutes,” he whispered to the sky, his beloved sky. “Two minutes to catch my breath, rest up and restore some energy. Meditation, that’s what they call it, right?” He blinked once. Twice. Slower. Three times.

  And then he closed his eyes.

  ***

  Cold metal pressed against his temple, followed by the hot click of a hammer.

  “All alone out here?” a sultry woman’s voice asked through the haze between sleep and consciousness. He knew that voice and couldn’t help but smile. “How unlike you. No Doyle, no Brett; even your precious little Benita isn't here. She would be so jealous.”

  “It was only supposed to be two minutes,” he groaned, too groggy to open his eyes.

  “Isn’t that always your problem, darling? It never lasts as long as you think it will.”

  Knight gave her a dramatic frown, but didn’t bother to open his eyes; he knew what he would find when he did. “If you’re going to say things like that, you might as well just put the bullet in my brain.”

  “And what fun would that be?” the woman said with a crooked grin—Knight didn’t need to see it to know it was there. She was enjoying this just a much as him; maybe a little bit more. “Besides, we did try very hard to do that already and look how well that turned out. Anything more would be superfluous, no?”

  “Only a little,” Knight agreed. “Why don’t you move the piece away from my head so we can chat like two people who don’t want the other dead.”

  There was a moment of hesitation. The woman briefly pressed the muzzle of the gun harder against Knight’s temple before pulling it away. Knight opened his eyes to look at the stunning woman kneeling over him, gun in hand. Even in a flight suit, she was as beautiful as ever, her leather jacket conforming to her shape but revealing nothing. She had a flying cap and goggles atop her head; her dirty blonde peek-a-boo bang covered her left eye. And that crooked smile; that damned crooked smile.

  Sophia Burdett, there would only ever be one.

  “Happy to be see you again, Soph,” Knight said with a genuine smile, propping himself up on his elbows.

  “Pleasure is all mine, Mr. Knight,” Sophia said sweetly before a shadow fell over her face. “Or should I call you ‘Q?’”

  Knight unconsciously raised an eyebrow at hearing his codename. He shrugged. “Seeing as this is all pretty informal, why don’t we stick with Richard?”

  Sophia smiled, turning her beautiful blue-grey eyes into crescent moons. They still sent goosebumps down Knight’s spine. She stood up but kept her eyes and gun on him; she was always so damned pragmatic. “We always do keep things interesting, don’t we, Dick?”

  “Now you’re just being inappropriate,” he laughed as he climbed to his feet.

  “When have I ever been anything but?” Sophia said with a hint of sadness as she motioned her gun. Knight instinctively raised his hands. “Throw your pistol to the ground. Both of them.” She waited as Knight begrudgingly complied, dropping each to the grass one after another. “And the knife in your boot.”

  “You know me too well,” Knight muttered. He kicked the heel of his right boot against the ground, releasing a small blade from the toe. He tossed it besides the pistols.

  “And you don’t know me at all,” Sophia replied. She took a half step forward and kicked his weaponry into the muddy lakeshore. “You have something that belongs to me, darling.” She pointed her gun at the lump in his jacket.

  “You already had it,” he replied with a half-cocked grin, “if you remember…”

  “Very well, in fact. San Francisco was only three years ago.” She aimed the pistol at his head. “Give me the Crystal, Dick.”

  Knight glanced down at his waist and gave Sophia a bemused expression. “Which one did you want again?”

  Sophia raised an eyebrow and couldn’t fight back that damned crooked grin. “Now who’s being inappropriate?”

  “Anything to make you smile.” Knight fished into his jacket and brought out the Crystal. It shimmered in the light of the setting sun, small bands of rainbows painted Knight’s hand, colors that defied description. Knight had seen his fair share of jewels and precious stones over the years, but none of them ever looked like this. The name “Crystal” was, of course, a misnomer; the object Knight held in his hands defied description in the conventional sense. It wa
s at once a sphere and a cube, depending on how you looked at it. Roughly the size of a human skull, the Crystal weighed nearly ten pounds, but floated through the air if thrown. The surface was glass smooth, unless you saw the strange writing etched into it. And God help you if you stared into the center for too long; Knight had seen a man’s head explode because of that.

  “You can’t say I never brought you diamonds,” he said, tossing the Crystal to Sophia. It sailed between them, as if carried by an invisible balloon.

  “No,” Sophia said, easily catching the Crystal with one hand and tucking it under her arm. “You just steal them from me.”

  He shrugged. “I did make you a promise.”

  “Promises are meant to be broken,” she bit back.

  Knight grimaced and shook his head. “Not mine.”

  Sophia pressed her lips together. “So I’ve learned,” she whispered.

  “Where does this leave us?” Knight asked.

  “Us?” Sophia said with derision. “There never was an ‘us.’ Just some story you worked up in your head, as children often do. Always wanting what they can’t have.”

  Knight suggestively raised an eyebrow. “Could’ve fooled me.”

  Sophia gave him that goddamned crooked smile again. “I did.” Her blue-grey eyes and gun never leaving him, she shouted into the forest: “Boys!”

  “Boys?” Knight repeated. “Now you’re just trying to make me jealous.”

  Her smile broadened, her eyes once more crescent moons. “Always.”

  The ground beneath his feet began to rumble in short, deep shakes, one after another. Knight glanced toward the tree line, which began to quiver around them, branches swaying back and forth like they were taking part in a silent dance. Beneath the snap and crash of wood came the sound of metal gears and hydraulics. He wondered why he hadn’t heard them approach before, but then again, he had been unconscious for at least a couple of hours.