Page 134 of Vicious Knight

I found myself outside her window, watching her cry and willing myself not to go in and comfort her.

Resuming stalker mode, I did the same thing for the rest of the week. Watching and waiting, but I don’t know what I’m waiting for. At this point I just want to be near her.

I stopped myself from going tonight because Lucian and I stumbled across some stuff to do with the scar-faced man.

We’re in my apartment sitting in the living room, working through the documents we’ve gathered.

When he agreed to help me the first thing we sought to do was try to identify him with what we knew.

Because so much time has gone by it was harder to go through the list of people who wanted to hurt my family and set up Ivy’s father. All this time the focus has been on the former.

The first thing Aleksander did when my family was killed was go through the list of all my father’s enemies. Old and new at the time.

Everyone he could think of was questioned and investigated thoroughly, then he kept a keen eye on them for years. He still keeps his eyes on them.

Focusing on the scar-faced man is a new angle because we know more about him now.

Lucian and I think that those words the man spoke are some sort of a death ritual. So is the whole cutting out the hearts thing. Now we’re trying to narrow down what the words mean, where they came from, and possibly what group the man might have belonged to.

“This is what I found last night.” Lucian hands me a document with some Armenian and Persian words. “These are all synonymous with death. I think valin mortilum dohaliues is a made-up language of both those languages.”

“What does it mean?” I ask, setting the document on my lap.

“I could be wrong, but it seems to translate to mean the same thing as the Knights’ Oath.”

And this is why I needed his help. I would have never figured that out, even if my mind were free of the shit that’s happening.

“Given that we know this guy is a Knight, I think that sounds like you are on the right track. So, we’re looking for groups that love the Armenian and Persian language?”

“Or a dead language they came from.” Lucian looks like he has an idea. He moves to my computer and taps away at the keyboard.

I walk over to him. “What are you thinking?”

“There was something I came across some time ago. An incident in Uzbekistan that involved the murder of a Knight. There it is.”

I see he’s accessed the top secret files on the database. They talk about a mercenary group called The Hand who killed a senior Knight and his family. The Knight was an oligarch who'd just inherited some land, but there was conflict over the land’s ownership. When he was killed the land went to the Mongolians.

The record states two mercenaries were killed in the attack on the Knight, and they were both Knights.

“This group—The Hand—is known to use dead languages to keep themselves secret. Kind of like how we use runes and speak Old Norse,” Lucian explains. “I know it’s a long shot but this could be a lead.”

“We need to look into them. I guess we’ll know sooner or later if we’re right or wrong.”

He nods. “There are some people I need to speak to.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“No. And no offense, but some people don’t take too kindly to the Ivanovs.”

I raise my hands. “No offense taken. Who are these people?”

A look of discomfort washes over his face. “People my real father knew from the Italian mafia. The ones who aren’t exactly allies with the Knights, but they’re not enemies either. They know stuff, and they know people.”

“I’ll do whatever you think will work.”

“Great. Then I’ll take this to them and see what happens. If they decide to help me, it will be on the basis of who wants to speak out against this group, or not. When these people kill they’re not supposed to leave any traces. That’s why no one talks about them.”

“I’m sure it’s not going to look good on my scar-faced friend that he left witnesses behind. He would have known about me, but not Ivy.”

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