Free Black Knight by Christopher Pike Page A

Bridge. My father stands and steps behind my chair, putting his hands on my shoulders. It’s a casual gesture but it means a lot to me just to feel his touch. All the years he wasn’t in my life, I missed his touch.
    “Jessica,” he says gently. “I’m afraid what Cleo’s trying to tell you is that you probably don’t have a choice in the matter.”
    My throat feels thick. “Why not?” I whisper.
    Cleo squeezes my arm and answers. “We know little of the Alchemist—when and where he was born, what his abilities are, whether he’s on our side or the side of the Lapras. You assume, from what Kendor told you, that he’s a monster, and perhaps he is, I don’t know. Yet he took Syn and Kendor to the mall today on purpose, that much is clear, and he says they’re here to prepare you. We have to assume they’re here to prepare you for a trial of some kind. And since the man can travel through time, we have to accept he already knows that this trial is going to take place, whether you want it to or not.”
    My father continues to rub my shoulders. Yet I feel as if a heavy weight from far above has descended over me. It was only a month ago in Las Vegas that my whole world was turned upside down and I was almost killed. I had been hoping for a period of peace: to raise my daughter; to love Jimmy; to go to school like a normal girl. Now I find myself struggling just to breathe, to shake off a feeling of impending doom.
    “What you just said—it’s quite a mouthful,” I tell Cleo.
    “I know.”
    “It’s not fair,” I say.
    “Life seldom is,” Cleo replies, before adding. “I should have warned you earlier. I knew when you had Syn killed that the majority of the Lapras would see you as a viable candidate to rule their organization. It’s in their blood.”
    “They believe in survival of the fittest,” Hatsu says.
    “Promotion through assassination,” I mutter, although technically it was Whip who had killed her.
    “They’re a brutal race,” Cleo agrees.
    “It still makes no sense,” I complain. “Why nominate me—a recent high-school graduate who felt bad about dissecting a frog in biology class—to rule over a violent organization bent on world domination? Wouldn’t they prefer someone with more blood on her hands?”
    Cleo speaks. “I’ve already answered that question. To the Lapras what matters most is that you defeated Syn. That proves to them how powerful you are. And as far as your youth is concerned—they might see that as an advantage.” Cleo suddenly stops. “Or he might.”
    “The Alchemist?” I ask.
    Cleo nods. “Since you’re only eighteen, he might see you as someone he can mold as he pleases. You recall that he was Syn’s mentor before she took over the Lapras.”
    “I didn’t know Kendor confided that in you,” I say.
    “I figured it out on my own,” Cleo says.
    I sigh, or groan—it’s hard to separate the two sounds and feelings in my head. “I’m still confused. On one hand you keep talking about what the Lapras want. On the other hand you act like the Alchemist is in control. Tell me clearly—who’s calling the shots?”
    Cleo considers. “It’s true the Alchemist hasn’t chosen the Lapras’ leader recently. However, in the distant past, long before any of you were born, there were good and bad witches just as there are good and bad witches today. And in those days, the Alchemist did have a say on who ruled the evil witches.”
    “What about who ruled the good witches?” my father asks, as curious as the rest of us. This is obviously new information to everyone except Cleo. She shakes her head.
    “He never came near us,” she says.
    “Just my luck he’s decided to get politically active again,” I mutter.
    My father acts as if inspiration’s struck. “Is it possible Lara’s the reason the Alchemist is interested in elevating Jessica to head of the Lapras? Let’s not forget how obsessed Syn was with the child’s ten witch genes. Could the