About Knight Shade

by Kiernan Kelly
34 pages / 16000 words
ISBN: 978-0-60370-214-0, 1-60370-214-8
Available file types - html, lit, pdf, prc

Justus isn't used to helping people. In his old life, he helped himself, and looked out for number one. As the Knight Shade, though, he has to deliver souls through the Half-World, and when one of those souls touches him deeply, it comes as a big surprise.

Trying to help Sally, the young soul who needs his aid, Justus meets Billy, and manages to bring the young man into the Half-World to help him with his task. The two of them face unknown perils to save Sally, and as they work together to solve their problems, they learn to admire each other. Can Justus and Billy complete their quest and find a way to be together?

Sample

"Mister?"

Oh, God, no. The young ones are always the worst. Taking a deep breath, I reached inside the pocket of my leather overcoat. My fingers closed over a familiar, reassuring rectangle of thick cardboard. Its presence reminded me of my purpose, tempered my spine with steel.

"Mister? I'm lost. Can you bring me home?"

Opening my eyes, I turned my head slightly to the right. You can't see ghosts if you look at them -- pardon the expression -- dead on. On this plane they can only been seen in one's peripheral vision, flickering at the very outer edges of your field of sight like the images of an old-time film, the kind you had to crank by hand as you peered into the viewer.

She was tiny, perhaps no more than seven years old at the time of her death. Fair hair shimmered in a soft wave over her shoulders, golden even in the inky darkness. Her eyes were blue and wide as she watched me, a mixture of curiosity, fear, and hope shining in them. Her skin was so pale; death sapped the rosy flush of life from her rounded cheeks.

Standing, I edged closer, still careful to keep her in my peripheral vision.

"Mister? I don't know where my Mommy and Daddy and Billy went. I want to go home, Mister. I'm cold."

Her voice was as small as she was, delicate and fragile on the night wind. Just beyond her was a wooden cross planted into the soft dirt of the shoulder of the road, plastic lilies twined over the crossbars. It tilted to the side, as if battered by the elements. A large brown teddy bear had been lashed to the guardrail next to the cross; its fur was mud-splattered, one round eye hanging precariously by a thread. Scattered across the ground underneath the cross and bear were the remains of a sizable memorial -- smaller stuffed animals, dolls, candles, and photographs sprinkled with dead leaves, weeds, cigarette butts, and the amber shards of beer bottles.

The roadside memorial was similar to others I have seen studding the highways and byways of the world, and it told me that this young girl died here. She didn't give me the same vibe I get from murder victims -- they're always angry, even the little ones. Perhaps she met her end in a car accident. Did her family die too? It didn't seem like it -- the memorial was obviously for a child. Was Billy her brother? Older? Younger? Alive? If he died then he'd found his way to the Gates without needing my help. The call was only for this little girl, this tiny wraith in red shorts and a Cookie Monster T-shirt.

"Mister?" There were tears in her voice, and they burned into my soul like acid.

"Sure, kid. I'll take you home," I replied.