A New York Knight: The Raven, the Serpent, and the Wolf

By Carson M. Berger

Geoffrey A. C. Lakson, Knight of New York, is a problem solver who must ensure that two separate yet conjoined worlds of great and terrible magic do not mix. While running his private detective business, Lakson does his best to keep the magical and mortal worlds apart, despite the fact that he despises his duty with every fiber of his being.

When NYPD Detective Matilda Moran calls Lakson to the scene of a Wall Street massacre, he notices that the goblin word for debt has been written in blood on a wall. Certain that whoever committed the brutal murders will not stop, Lakson has no choice but to fulfill his charge once more. After he pledges to hold the person accountable for such a blatant and savage disregard of the Unwritten Laws, Lakson is pulled into a web of greed, betrayal, lust, and—above all else—murder. But when all is said and done, will he find redemption and growth or will he have already sacrificed too much to change?

A New York Knight is the story of a man, broken by time and circumstance, who must fulfill a duty he despises, all while keeping his inner demons at bay.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Sep 1, 2020
• ISBN: 9781532066061

Carson M. Berger

Carson Berger loves crafting strange and fantastical worlds from his strange and fantastical mind, building muscle, and running terrifying Dungeons and Dragons campaigns. He earned a bachelor of fine arts in film and video from the Savannah College of Art and Design. Carson works and resides in Atlanta, Georgia. This is his first book.

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Copyright © 2018 Carson M. Berger.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical,

including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written

permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in

this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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ISBN: 978-1-5320-6607-8 (sc)

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iUniverse rev. date:  02/17/2021

CONTENTS

Prologue

Chapter 1     First of the Unspoken Laws:

The Realities Mortal and Magical Shall Not Mix Unnaturally.

Chapter 2     Second of Unspoken Laws:

Unless There Is Prior Knowledge Between Them, Creatures of the Realities Magical and the Reality Mortal Shall Not Interact with the Other. To Interact in the Reality Mortal, the Creatures of the Realities Magical Must Maintain Their Masks at All Times When in the Reality Mortal.

Chapter 3     Third of the Unspoken Laws:

The Existence of the Realities Magical and Multiple Shall Not Be Revealed to the Creatures and Denizens of the Reality Mortal, Unless It Is Deemed Necessary, in Which Case, They Must Be Made to Swear Binding Oaths of Secrecy, or Else Have Their Memories Containing the Knowledge of the Realities Magical Summarily Erased.

Chapter 4     Fourth of the Unspoken Laws:

The Knights of the Reality Mortal Shall Forever Carry out the Enforcement of the Unspoken Laws in the Reality Mortal and the Realities Magical.

Chapter 5     Fifth of the Unspoken Laws:

Should the Unspoken Laws Be Broken Without Intention to Break Them, the Party Responsible Will Be Given a Single Chance to Fix Their Error.

Chapter 6     Sixth of the Unspoken Laws:

Those Who Break the Unspoken Laws with Intention to Do so Are Required to Submit to the Judgment of Their Knight, Who Shall Carry out Their Sentence Without Delay.

Chapter 7     Seventh of the Unspoken Laws:

Failure to Comply with the Unspoken Laws Shall Result in Death.

Chapter 8     Eighth of the Unspoken Laws:

If a Knight Should Deem It Necessary, Any Who the Knight Have Caught Violating the Unspoken Laws, If Intentionally, Will Be Allowed One Chance to Explain to the Knight Their Reasons for Having Done So.

Chapter 9     Ninth of the Unspoken Laws:

Violation of the Unspoken Laws with Conscious Intent Shall Result in a Sentence of Execution, to Be Carried out by the Knights of the Reality Mortal.

Chapter 10   Tenth of the Unspoken Laws:

The Unspoken Laws Must Always Be Obeyed Without Question, Even If No Previous Knowledge Is Known of Them by Creatures Magical and Mortal.

Chapter 11   Eleventh of the Unspoken Laws:

The Unspoken Laws Cannot Be Changed, or Appealed, for They Are Absolute.

Chapter 12   The Unspoken Laws are Eternal. Failure to obey the Unspoken Laws will result in death.

Epilogue

PROLOGUE

Alyssa Anania was a woman who, if she was being totally honest with herself, was, if not exactly proud, then just perhaps extremely accepting of her chosen profession in life, even if it was the one derisively known as the world’s oldest profession. Despite its dubious reputation, the job allowed her to live her life in a rather comfortable and luxurious manner and style. She had a lovely house, a wondrous view of the ocean, which she loved, she was beautiful, and she made a great deal of money.

Every day, she had made sure to adhere to a rigorous morning schedule and routine; get up at 5:00 am, go for a nice swim, take a 9-minute shower, get dressed, have a nice and filling breakfast consisting of fruit, toast, and fish (you could never have too much fish, after all), and then go to work.

It was a schedule and routine that was second nature to her. It was the one thing that she could always depend upon to be consistent, even as her clients changed day after day. She knew what pleased them, and herself, and knew how to do so to achieve the best results for both parties.

There was a loud knock on the door, startling her as she was just finishing her breakfast. Who would be at her house at this hour? She got up from the table and went to her front door. After a second loud knock, she opened it, and was greeted, to her surprise, with the familiar face of her lover, who looked tired and apprehensive.

"Alyssa, my apologies for intruding. I know that it is rather early, but I have been feeling rather down lately, and, well, I was hoping that we could… talk."

Well, I usually head off to work by now, but I am sure that I could spare a few mom-umph. Before she could finish speaking, her lover had engulfed her in a passionate kiss. One long minute later, their lips separated. One could almost smell the heavy scent of lustful desire in the air. With a happy shrug, Alyssa kissed her lover once again.

Two long, lusty hours later, Alyssa lay in the arms of her lover. She was sweaty and spent yet satisfied. Her lover had been unusually intense, but she was not about to complain. She then looked at her clock. Alyssa then decided that she was going to take the day off. She turned to her lover and said as much.

Before she knew what was happening, she felt her lover’s powerful hands encircle her neck, and begin to squeeze tightly. In panic, she began beating against the hands, and then clawed at her lover’s face, but it was all to no avail. Several long, agonizing seconds later, Alyssa Anania was dead on the floor of her bedroom, courtesy of a broken neck.

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He was not sure of the club’s name, nor did he care.

Oh wait, actually, he did know its name, and he did care that he knew. This was the Club Arcane, and he owned it, having built it from the ground up.

At the Club Arcane, there was no vice that was considered taboo, and there no sin was too sinful to indulge in, multiple times, if you had the money. It was here that a person could freely show their true self, that self that people have always learned from a young age to hide away from the world, without fear of reprisal or sanctimonious judgment from those who claimed to have those pesky things known as morals. A person could fuck, eat, and even kill, here, and the outside world would never know. Only the Club Arcane, for what happened at the Club stayed at the Club.

Of course, none of that really mattered to the man. He was just here to have some well-deserved fun at his club, enjoying the many, ripe fruits of his labors and cares, and then allow all of his worries, and aforementioned cares, drift far, far away onto the night wind as the loud music, drugs, sex, and ever-flowing booze increased his happiness tenfold.

Now, this man went by the simple, humble, and God-Given name of Jacob Donaugh, and on most days and nights, he felt like the King of New York, so aside from his name, nothing about him was simple or humble in the slightest.

Jacob Donaugh embodied the very epitome of what everyone aspired to be at some point in their lifetimes; he was good-looking, hardworking, and eager to rise up in the world and secure a job through which he would make a great deal of money through as little effort as humanely possible.

For the past several centuries, Jacob Donaugh had discovered the means to do all of that, and honestly, it was the good life. He had lived the bon-vivant lifestyle for a good while, while enjoying every last moment of it. People vied for even a hint of his attention and favors, and women did absolutely anything, and everything, for the chance to enter his bed.

Yes sir, it was truly the good life, and he was quite determined to enjoy every second of his very good, very long life.

To think, all that it took was one old book, one deal, and a change of self through pain and bloody sacrifice.

That old book that he had found in his family’s private, dusty library that fateful day had changed the entire course of his life, which, as an unwanted second son with no direction, and no prospects for the future, had been looking exceedingly dull and short.

For you see, unbeknownst to many who had heard of him, Jacob Donaugh could perform great and spectacular feats of magic, and he had been practicing its use nigh-religiously for the past several centuries.

However, this magic was not of the simple stage variety, which required the use of misdirection, smoke, mirrors, and complex machinery to dazzle those of weak minds and deep pockets (although he did know some extremely neat card tricks as well.) No, for Jacob Donaugh’s magic was the sort of stuff that was spoken of in the ancient myths and legends of yore. These were powers and spells that could force and bend the weak minded to his every whim, put money and gold into his myriad bank accounts and deep pockets, and also keep him perpetually young and vigorous.

Sure, he could not really be qualified as human anymore, but so what? Sure, he had needed to go through massive amounts of pain and agony for power, but who cared? It was all worth it, at least for the most part.

As the night wore on, Jacob Donaugh found his arms wrapped around two attractive ladies (one brunette, and one red-head), both of whom were garbed in suggestive, low-cut dresses, giggling emptily at his many jokes and witty words and sentences. All the while, the three were enjoying a bottle of one of the most expensive alcohols known to man, as happy and fierce drugs coursed through their veins, and magic flowed through their fingertips, lips, and pores. These were some of his disciples, people who did not know any better, and were eager to have the barest hint of a taste of magic, for, to them, it was the drug, and the ultimate high.

It was amazing what such people were willing to do, or have done to them, in return for even a single spell.

As he was admiring these two newest conquests of his, he heard a sound cut through the noise that was the heartbeat of his Club Arcane. It was the tap, tap, tap of a cane upon the floor, followed by the shuffle of a limp limb on the velvet carpeting. Soon enough, the owner of the limp limb and the tapping cane was in front of Jacob’s booth.

The man standing in front of his booth was tall, even though he leaned on a knobbed, black cane, and he was garbed in clothes of a very fine make. When he spoke, his voice was both deep, and slightly raspy. "I have been looking for you, Mr. Donaugh. Despite how openly you tend to flaunt yourself, you are really not an easy thing to pinpoint in this city."

Jacob glanced at him with disinterest; his thoughts and eyes still quite clear despite the copious amounts of alcohol and drugs that he had been imbibing over the course of the night. Look, I’m flattered by your attentions, but, as you can plainly see, two is enough for me. So, buzz off.

The man said nothing, and just opened his coat a bit, revealing the worn handle of a gun. At that, sobriety crashed down hard, and his two companions quietly fled. But Jacob Donaugh remained quite unimpressed and nonplussed. What could a mere gun do to one such as him? Look, I get it. You don’t like me, or what I do, but you can’t touch me here. I still play by the rules, Unspoken or otherwise.

I have been very tolerant of you for the past eighty years, Mr. Donaugh, even as you openly flirt and dance along the legal edge of the Unspoken Laws. However, it is not you that I have come to kill tonight. Not yet at least. But, one of your patrons has committed serious infractions. I request that you tell me where in this club he is, or else people will start to die, beginning with you.

Jacob’s visage fell away, as did his smirk, to reveal a much different creature then what he showed to the mortal world: a tall thing with purple skin, small horns protruding from his skull, and ruby-red eyes. Lesions, brandings, and wounds of all sorts covered his self from face to feet. Some were well healed, but others bled and oozed freely, staining the floor, his seat, and his fashionable clothes.

You think that I mind a little pain, a little death? I would be fucking welcoming such things. Jacob declared, in a raspy voice, as if his throat had been slit and crushed multiple times (which it had). I don’t fear death, for death will never claim me.

Perhaps. Honestly, I don’t care. Now point me to your patron, Mr. Donaugh, the man said calmly, unperturbed by the change in Jacob’s appearance.

Jacob stared at him, this tall man with a limp, cane, and gun, and then the Club Owner’s visage changed back into his more human one, his Mask firmly set back in place with a shit-slurping smirk, while the stains from his all his ever-present wounds turned to dust and nothingness.

Very well. The one you are seeking, one Mr. Wallace Jones, is on the center stage, currently screwing one of my performers in the ass, and in a very tasteless manner, if I might add. No foreplay at all. Not that it’s against my club’s rules or anything, but one does have to pay extra for that. More money than sense, that one, but I can’t complain. I am going to miss his money though.

As the tall man limped away to the stage, Jacob sighed, reached to his table, took up the bottle of the expensive alcohol, and poured himself a glass, filling it right to the edge of the rim.

Wallace Jones! The limping man declared. For the crime of breaking the edicts of the Unspoken Laws, for the use of unlawful magic upon mortals, and by my authority as the Knight of New York and Crossroads-By-The-Sea, you are hereby sentenced to death!

Jacob swallowed a mouthful of his beverage, and enjoyed its rich texture, strong flavor, and its price, as it went down his throat through his digestive tract, all the while he watched disinterestedly as the tall man began to ruthlessly beat Wallace to the ground with his cane, hitting him once, twice, three times, and more; then, as Wallace lay half naked, bleeding and moaning, on the floor, the tall man swiftly un-holstered his gun, and fired a single, loud shot through Wallace’s bruised and beaten head, splattering the stage with blood and brains.

It was only through Jacob’s quick manipulations of the minds of everyone present, as well as the myriad of spells that were woven within the walls, ceilings, and floors of Club Arcane, that no one else in the club reacted at all to the summary execution. Even those of stronger mentalities were unfazed. They all just continued to dance, drink, talk, fornicate, and kill the night away, often all five at once, in a few select parts of the club. It also helped that the interior of the club had extremely high-quality soundproofing, so the authorities would never know what had occurred.

As he watched the tall man quietly limp out of the club, Jacob raised his glass imperiously. A toast to you, Mr. Lakson, and to all your good works, you bloody executioner.

This was the Club Arcane. Here, anything was allowed. Nothing too macabre, or too horrific, or too taboo was discouraged. Here, magic flowed, breathed, and lived, all the while mixing with blood and death and stagnation and sex.

What happened at the Club Arcane, stayed at the Club Arcane.

CHAPTER 1

First of the Unspoken Laws:

The realities Mortal and Magical shall not mix unnaturally.

If he was to be asked, then Geoffrey would admit, however begrudgingly, that New York held a special place in his thoughts. That was, in most cases, something of a tolerable thing.

When the average pedestrian thinks about the United States, the first thing that often comes to the forefront of his or her mind is New York, of course; both the city, and the state.

While Geoffrey could, quite truthfully, admit that he did not love the sprawling metropolis, he would also have to admit that he could not bring himself to really hate it either. Rather, one could suggest that he merely tolerated the city, and state, to a comfortable extent of kind indifference.

But then, who wouldn’t comfortably tolerate New York? There is always a unique, natural ambience, an unending abundance of interesting people and restaurants, and everything is within walking distance, potentially.

There is also the fact that it is at a powerful intersection of all the world’s magical ley lines, which made any magic used in the city more potent, more vibrant, and more powerful.