Black Knight 02.5 - Movie Knight Read Online Free Page A

it’s not as safe as it once was.” I stammered a minute longer before I settled on “Forget I said anything. Let’s get out of here.”  
    “Good idea,” Greg said from the door. “I don’t think you’re the only cop on the scene anymore, Sabrina.”  
    “Crap,” she said, standing and trying to straighten her gore-splattered clothes. “No idea how I’m going to explain this one.”  
    “Leave that to me,” I said, heading out to the hall to use my vamp mojo on the cops and make all the witnesses think that an Alzheimer’s patient had gotten loose and gone wandering again. No harm done, no foul. Greg went down to the morgue to tell Bobby the coast was clear, and we left the mess in the nursery to some very confused janitors.  
    A couple of hours later, showered and dressed in sweats, cell phones all turned off and stashed in the crisper with the blood bags, we settled back in to start our movie. Sabrina, looking far hotter than anyone in borrowed sweats and a Captain America t-shirt had any right to, picked up the DVD box and said “I don’t know if I’m in the mood to watch this movie anymore.” She held up the Alien box set, and we all broke up laughing.  

If you enjoyed this taste of the boys from the Black Knight Investigations team, check out their first full-length adventure here .  

    Chapter 1

    I hate waking up in an unfamiliar place. I’ve slept in pretty much the same bed for the past fifteen years, so when I wake up someplace new, it really throws me off. When that someplace is tied to a metal folding chair in the center of an abandoned warehouse that reeks of stale cigarette smoke, diesel fuel and axle grease - well, that really started my night off on a sparkling note.
    My mood deteriorated even further when I heard a voice behind me say “It’s about time you woke up, bloodsucker.” I mean, seriously, why do people have to be so rude? It’s a condition, like freckles. I’m a vampire. Deal with it. But we can do without the slurs, thank you very much.  
    “Go easy on the bloodsucker, pal. I haven’t had breakfast” was what I tried to say. But since my mouth was duct-taped shut, it came out more like “Mm mmmm mm mmm-mmmmmmm, mmm. Mm mmmmmm mmm mmmmm.” My repartee was gonna need an assist if I was going to talk my way out of this. Of course, if my mysterious captor had wanted me dead, he’d had all day to make that happen, but instead I woke up tied to a chair. I tested my bonds, but I was tied tight, and whatever he had bound me with burned, so it was either blessed, and he was devout, or it was silver. My money was on silver. The true believers are more the stake them in the coffins type than the kidnap them and tie them to chairs type.  
    “I think, bloodsucker , that since I’m the one with the stake, I get to call you whatever I want. And you, as the one tied to the chair with silver chains, get to sit there and do whatever I say.” My captor moved around in front where I could get a good look at him. I knew him, of course. It’s never the new guy in town who ties you to a chair; it’s always that creepy guy who you’ve seen lurking around the cemetery for a couple weeks. The one that you’re not sure if he was there to mourn, or for some other reason. And of course, it was always some other reason.  
    I’d seen this guy hanging around one of the big oak trees in my cemetery, near the freshest grave in the joint, for a couple of weeks. I never thought much of his wardrobe until now, but in retrospect he was wearing almost stereotypical vampire hunter garb. Black jeans, black boots, long black coat, wide-brimmed black hat. Christ, I bet he owned the Van Helsing Blu-Ray. I swore then that if I ever got the chance, I was eating Hugh Jackman’s liver. No, we don’t usually eat people, but liver’s liver, and I was pissed. I had been caught and trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey by a skinny twenty-something who watched too many bad vampire movies.  
    This