The Good Knight

** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only **

****************

The cool evening air held the promise of rain; clouds swirled, wind howled and the moon kept hidden beneath the curve of the Earth.

An occasional star twinkled through the thick veil of fog and a nightingale sang it's beautiful song, not caring if the two men below the tree branches heard the melody or not.

"Hey, Grimm, have you ever thought about taking a vacation?"

"No." Grimm actually thought otherwise to himself, but in public it was always a definite and firm, "No."

"Well, what about a day off, you know, like calling in sick or something?"

Grimm rolled his bloodshot eyes. If only he could get sick! "You know I don't get any sick days, what would happen to my in-basket if I didn't show up? I'll tell you what would happen, it would be twice as high and twice as full as when I left it! That's what would happen." Grimm shook his head from side to side, his dark hair falling loosely over his forehead. "I'm heading back inside, you coming Rider?"

"In a minute," Rider said, blowing out a ring of smoke into the crisp night air. "I'm feeling a little stressed tonight, thought I'd stroll for a few minutes."

"Yeah, sure. See you inside." Grimm turned abruptly, swinging open the door as he did so, then stepped into the large gray building. Whirls of fog went round and round from the breeze created by the closing of the door.

Rider looked up into the turbulent night sky, following some unseen pattern in the blinking stars with his eyes. He itched to be away from here tonight. His mind screamed for some excitement, anything but the monotony he was dealing with inside. The birdsong spoke to his soul, piercing the melancholy feelings like a ray of bright sunshine, warm and comforting.

"Your friend's a little uptight, Rider." A thin woman in a strappy red dress seemingly appeared from the depths of the lazily circling mists. She stepped up to Rider's side and placed her hand upon his arm. Her pale skin shown like marble in the moonlight and her red hair looked like the deep crimson color of blood. Her voice was thick and raspy, as if not used very often.

Rider smelled the faint odor of sulfur and he breathed out deeply, trying to exhale the stench of unpleasantness.

"He's not uptight, just tired." Rider blew one last smoke ring which melded with the foggy mist. "His workload has more than tripled with what's been going on lately and with no hint of an assistant in sight, he's just overworked is all." Rider cleared his throat, he didn't like this woman casting his friend in a bad light, besides, she could be a spy. "Excuse me, I've got to go."

* * * *

As dark clouds circled beneath the hooves of his swift steed, he flew through the night, a smoky silhouette against the now full moon. His long, tapering fingers grasped a mighty golden horn, elegantly curvaceous but sturdily built. When his lips met the mouthpiece, he blew upon it forcefully; thunder crashed, storm clouds billowed and the land trembled violently. His face was a mask, no emotions showed, all concentration on his thundering steed as hooves pounded ever westward.

* * * *

Clarissa walked from the exquisitely formal dining room into the newly furnished sitting room, admiring the fresh coat of paint on the wall. She liked the smell of new paint and carpet glue, it was like opium in her blood. Her hand delicately traced the light floral print on the armrest of the just delivered sofa set and as she stepped onto the perfectly coordinated area rug she gave herself a mental pat on the back.

Mrs. Dobbs couldn't possibly find any fault with this spectacular room, not the dusty rose colored velvet draperies with cream sheers, not the painstakingly hand reproduced cornices and crown moldings and certainly not with the lusciously grandiose Elizabethan furniture purchased at Sotheby's just last month.

Clarissa bent to adjust a fresh, white Lily in an antique crystal vase to make it just so, then suddenly changed her mind and left the flower slightly off center. It suited her mood to know the imperfections in this room made it so absolutely perfect. She added several baby aspirin to the water in the vase to keep the cut flowers fresh, then left the sumptuous sitting room, heels clicking smartly as she walked down the marbled hallway to the front door.

* * * *

"Hey, Grimm?"

"Hmm?"

"You ever thought about moving on? You know, new job, new destinations, new anything?"

Grimm stared pensively across the wide desk at his old friend. "What's up, Rider? What's bothering you?"

Rider lifted his brows, then appeared to concentrate. He stood in the corner, shifting from one heel to the other, then let out a heavy sigh.

"Truth is, I'm tired of all of this, Grimm." Rider's outstretched arm encompassed the gloomy interior office space the two shared for years. "What are we doing here? We should have moved on a long time ago, greener pastures and all that."

"We've talked about this before, Rider." Grimm slid several sheets of paper from his desk top to the out-box, then pulled a few more sheets from his in-box. "Besides, there's no guarantee anywhere else is going to be any better. You know that."

"I suppose." Grimm watched his friend pace from door to desk, desk to window, window to door, one hand working through dark hair as he did so. "But I'm not looking for better, really, just different. I need more. I need..."

At Rider's hesitation, Grimm glanced up from his work. Rider stood transfixed, staring out at the night sky with a look of sadness and longing on his face. The low-wattage lighting cast eerie shadows along the wall beside Rider as he rested his palms upon the cool panes of glass.

"What is it you need Rider? What other job is going to suit you as well as this one does, eh? Where else can you go that will let you get as close to the night skies as here?" Grimm stood and approached Rider, "Besides, you're nowhere near the end of your contract yet."

"Yeah, I know." Rider turned and held out his hand, "I know I'm tired of the same thing, night after night and I want something more, something not-contracted." He continued toward Grimm with his hand outstretched, beseeching, waiting, hoping.

"You know I can't," Grimm responded, retreating as he said it. He didn't stop until his massive desk stood between them. "Not even for you, my friend, especially not you."

"Why not me, especially?"

"Especially not you since your in-box is even more full than mine, that's why not!" Grimm slid his partner a rare smile, then swallowed the lump in his throat and pretended to resume working as Rider took his seat and began writing.

The slight perspiration on his brow was the only outward indication of Grimm's vexation. How could he have even contemplated it, he wondered to himself. It would have done them both in for sure. What must Rider be thinking?

"Where do you really think you would end up?"

"Oh, man, Grimm! There's every place in the world and a few not in the world!" Rider swung his chair around, his smile as wide as an ocean. His boyish smile turned back the clock of time and years disappeared from his face. Clear eyes held the sparkle of hope in them Grimm had not often seen.

"I want to get a tan, a real one, not one of those fake in-the-bottle-tans, one where it takes weeks and months to perfect. I want to feel the warmth of the sun on my back as I swim in clear blue water and I want to be naked in the water, free of any binding materials. Or, or a chance to see real mustangs running the range. Hey, even snow. I want some snow, yeah, the light airy kind of snow that floats down and tastes so good when you catch it on your tongue. When did you last see snow, Grimm?"

* * * *

"Clari, Mrs. Dobbs on hold for you, she doesn't sound happy."

"Thanks, Ellen, I've got it." Clarissa took a deep breath, put a smile in her voice, then clicked the button on the phone to speak with her client.

"Hello, Mrs. Dobbs. So glad you're back, how was your Ladies' Retreat?" Clarissa unconsciously twirled a lock of hair with a pencil and held her breath.

"Well, my Retreat was just fine. My sitting room, however, is simply horrid!

"No! Mrs. Dobbs, I'm so sorry, what's the matter? If you tell me, I'm sure we can make it one hundred percent better, as always."

"For starters, I wanted lovely pink colored draperies, not this flaccid puce color you've hung in my house. Imagine my surprise when I arrived home, why the tassels are simply all the wrong lengths! Really!"

"Are they too long or too short, Mrs. Dobbs?" Clarissa's pencil poised over a blank sheet of paper.

"And the cornices. I can not believe my eyes. They aren't exact. They really should be, I'm sure your craftsman let some underling make my cornices. It simply won't do."

"But, Mrs. Dobbs, each one was hand carved! They're meant to be slightly different, that's why you didn't want the manufactured ones, remember?" Clarissa purposely kept her voice low and soothing.

"Oh, and I specifically wanted everything the same shade as dear Edgar's Urn and instead I have these ghastly dingy brown monstrosities hanging on my walls. Really, dear, it looks simply dreadful. What were you thinking?"

"The tapestries are the exact shade of sienna you instructed the artist to use Mrs. Dobbs. They're one-of-a-kind originals, signed and framed and I believe if you look closely at the French Provincial frames they're in, you'll see the gold-flake detailing you especially wanted. Now, Mrs. Dobbs, don't you think it really is a lovely room?"

"I'm sure I'll just be the laughing-stock at next Monday's Ladies Luncheon if you can't fix these problems!"

"Oh, Mrs. Dobbs. All right, I'll be right there. We'll go over everything together, okay? I'll bring all your paperwork along so we can see where we went wrong, how does half an hour sound?" Clarissa mentally guessed the time of day and the traffic outside her office window. If she did fifty all the way there, she just might make it in time.

"I suppose. If that's the best you can do..."

Mrs. Dobbs' whining voice trailed off and eventually a click sounded on the other end. Only then did Clarissa growl out loud in frustration.

"Argghh! That woman will be the death of me!" She stamped her foot under her desk for emphasis.

"Tough customer?"

Clarissa startled. She thought she was alone, but in her doorway stood a tall, dark-haired man. He wore a three-piece business suit, not upper crust but not off the rack either. She pasted on a smile, then gestured to a chair opposite her desk.

"Well, ahh Mr. um, sorry, I didn't catch your name? I have to apologize, if you're my afternoon appointment, we'll need to reschedule, I'm afraid that tough customer pays quite a few bills around here and I need to see to her ahh, needs."

She began to pull her appointment book out of a drawer, then her smile slipped as she noticed her visitor wasn't sitting. She felt the pain of a migraine behind her eyes but swallowed her groan. Little shadows seemed to float in front of her eyelids and the pressure behind her forehead made her catch her breath.

"Clarissa, it's time to go." His voice reminder her of her own just moments ago when she was dealing with Mrs. Dobbs.

"Go where?" She realized then her visitor had not been announced and Ellen was a stickler about such things. "Just who are you and how did you get past my secretary?"

"I didn't come in the front way. It really is time to go now. If we hesitate any longer, you'll be in extreme pain and I won't be able to prevent it. Take my hand."

Clarissa knew she should call for Ellen, but she looked into the man's face and found true concern and compassion there. The pounding in her temple began to shoot pain into her shoulders and a dull roar sounded in her ears. She looked into his eyes and saw there was something compelling in them though she couldn't name what. She watched through a haze of pain as her arm reached out trustingly then took his hand in hers.

"There, see? Now isn't this better?" His warm hand sent shivers through her body and a small gasp leaped from her lips. She found her head stopped pounding and with it, a giddy feeling of well being entered her.

"Who are you?" Her vision cleared and she sent a winning smile to the tall figure standing next to her.

"No one of consequence." He led Clarissa from her office, out past Ellen's desk and on to the warm afternoon sidewalk.

"I should tell Ellen I'll be right back..."

"She won't hear you now, Clari. You have moved on to another plane of existence. See?" His other hand pointed to the park across the street, where little children romped and played. Though she looked, Clari could see no adults watching, keeping their little ones safe.

"They are out of harm's way now, see how happy and carefree they are? They, too, are on this plane. You wanted children, but found you couldn't have any after the car accident in high school, right?"

"How did you know about my accident?"

"I know what I need to know. Do you think you could be happy here? With all the little ones to watch over?"

"Well, sure, but my work?" Clarissa's eyes remained bolted on the frolicking children, a secret desire to love and cherish showing like a golden halo about her body.

"Is no longer a concern of yours." He turned Clarissa around so she was facing her office. All plate glass, a person could see everything clearly in the executive suite from the sidewalk. There, Clari saw herself sitting, with her head down on her desk, phone off of the hook and dangling almost to the floor.

"As I said, you have moved on. This is your reward for the life you have led. Here is everything you have ever prayed for. Children to love and look after. No more pain and hurt and distrust."

He released her hand and called to the children. They gathered around her, heavenly faces clean and free of worry with voices like tiny angels. She knelt down to their level as one by one he introduced them to her. Tiny arms surrounded and hugged her, reassuring her as if they were watching out for her, not the other way around.

* * * *

As his steed neared the massive mountain range he held out a gloved hand toward Heaven, palm open in supplication. He blew once more on his mighty horn and serenely watched as the morning sun rose with great indignation. His body, fading to merely vapors now, clung in wispy tendrils to the retreating shadows while his mount's iron shod feet echoed across the thunderous waves of the Pacific ocean.

* * * *

"How do you suppose this will all end?" A bored sigh escaped from between pursed lips as Rider sat at his desk.

"I don't presume to know, Rider. After all, isn't that the great mystery of life, the not knowing?"

Rider bent over a short stack of papers, shuffling them more than actually working on them, and sighed.

"Could be. It's either that or what's really eating Gilbert Grape." A sardonic grin played its way around Rider's rugged face, then grew to a full-fledged smile as a thought occurred to him. "What if there IS no mystery? What then? What if, all there is, IS life?"

"You make no sense man. Of course there's more. You know there is. If you don't know by now you're a fool and I know no fools, fool."

Grimm wriggled his brows up and down for emphasis before returning to his diminishing in-basket. He was in a good mood and felt generous, he thought he might even get his work caught up today.

"No, really my friend. What about it? What if that's all there is?"

"Come on yourself, Rider! You know there's more than that. If there wasn't, no one would die. Death is something other than life."

"Well, there is that. But what about the rest of it? The happily ever after stuff, what if it's not real? What then?"

"What would it matter to you? You'd be dead already. If you lived a good life or a bad one, it would make no difference if it wasn't real." Grim shot a piercing look at his friends' back. "However, being real or not isn't an issue we need to worry about."

"Hey, don't get so defensive! I get it. No more talk about Death and Life and what not." Rider pushed away from his desk, "Need anything from the kitchen?"

"No, thanks for asking. I still haven't finished lunch yet. But check the printer on your way back in would you?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'll check it." Rider strolled from the office and headed toward the break room at a leisurely saunter. As he entered the lunch room, he saw a woman already occupied the usually empty room.

Standing with one hip against the counter, the thin woman held a steaming mug of coffee in her hand. She wore a red pantsuit with her hair pulled back severely in a bun. "We meet again, Rider." She lightly tapped one high-heeled shoe on the floor, nervously trying to look non-chalant but for the tap-tap-tap.

"You know, that's not a good look for you lady. You should leave your hair down around your shoulders, much softer and immensely more approachable."

"Depends on who's approaching." She sensed he was softening toward her and peeled her lips back to show off a gleaming row of white teeth.

"Whoa! Uh, are you trying to smile at me or take a bite out of me?"

The feral look in her eyes answered his question immediately. "There are angels and then there are devils. Which do you think I am, Rider?"

He looked at her in her shiny red get-up and knew exactly what she was.

* * * *

The Monday's Ladies Luncheon went off without a hitch. The affluent and influential group of ladies decided unanimously Roberta Dobbs' new sitting room was an absolute dream though she continued to refuse payment to the firm of her now deceased designer.

Roberta tried to justify it in her mind but deep down she knew her complaints were just figments of a lonely imagination. She knew as well the bill would still need paying, even if the owner had died. The job had been complete and for many days now Roberta had been reflecting on her last words to the dead woman.

She let out a heavy sigh, wrote out a check, then put it out with the rest of her mail. She felt much better once the money was on it's way.

"Well, it's not like she's going to come back and haunt me," she thought aloud. Though the sun shone on her bright and warm, she shivered and returned inside where she planned on taking a nice long Saturday afternoon nap.

* * * *

"Where're you headed off to?"

Grimm retrieved his work jacket from the coat rack, then turned and faced his friend. "I just got another late assignment from the printer and then I'm done for this shift. I'll see you tomorrow."

Rider turned from his desk and faced the empty doorway. "I'm off tomorrow!" he yelled. The sound of fading footsteps were barely audible, "It's Sunday!"

Though a faint reply was yelled back, Rider was unable to make out the words. He turned off his equipment and the small brass lamp on his desk, then stood and stretched. With one hand he stifled a yawn, and with the other he flipped the lock on the door, pulling it closed behind him.

"Another late shift, friend?"

Rider jumped at the sound of the thin woman's voice. "Cripes, Lady! You have a bad habit of sneaking up on a person! What are you doing here?"

"Just checking on a few things. Nothing to worry yourself about."

"I'll just bet. You don't work in this area. Who let you into the building?"

"Don't be so friendly, I might get the wrong impression. Actually, I had an appointment upstairs earlier and I heard you yell a moment ago when the elevator door opened, so I thought I'd say hello, again."

Rider stood his ground for a moment longer before he relented. "Sorry. It's been a long couple of shifts and I get a little jumpy when I'm tired." He held out his arm for her, then the two walked back toward the elevator.

* * * *

Though the moon was no longer full and the stars shone brighter in the winter sky he had no difficulty following his path. Sure footed and well trained, his mount stamped with impatience. With horn in hand and a determined will he began his trek across the sleeping landscape. He thrilled to see the great canyon of morning waiting for his beck and call, but he sighed in his heart, no longer truly thrilled with the awesome power he held at his tender mercies.

* * * *

Roberta awoke in a start. She smelled and saw smoke. Panicked, she rolled off the bed and onto the bedroom floor. As she lay there, the heat coming through the floor urged her to make a choice quickly, bathroom or hallway?

She decided on the hallway but when she tried to open the door she burned her hand on the knob. She let out a pained scream, then jumped up from her knees and ran through the thickening smoke and into the bathroom. She turned on the cold water and shoved her hand under the soothing coolness. Through her tears, Roberta saw movement behind her in the reflection of the mirror and she spun around.

Unbelievably, there in front of her was her diminutive dead designer, standing in the smoky bedroom. Roberta couldn't scream for the lack of air in the heat of the small bathroom, and if she could have, she would have fainted.

"Oh, God. Oh my God!" Roberta was becoming hysterical. She watched as the ghostly woman gestured as if she wanted her to follow. "I can't! The door is so hot!" The apparition shook her head, continuing to beckon to the distraught and choking woman.

Roberta wet down a towel, draped it over herself, then followed the wispy form into the bedroom. She used the wet towel to open the door into the hallway and sank to her knees. Though hot and thick, the air closest to the floor was at least breathable. She crawled slowly, following the image of ghostly heels just out of reach. In the thicker smoke, the form seemed more solid, more real, but the occasional breeze caused the smoke to swirl and dissipate also made her other worldly guide seem less substantial also.

At the top of the stairs, Roberta paused. There were now two sets of shoes in front of her. Well, more like a pair of boots, and a pair of heels.

"It's ok lady. I got you. Put this over your mouth and nose and breathe." The fireman helped to wrap the oxygen mask around her head then handed Roberta down to his partner. With a deep shudder, the house groaned and popped, the sound of crashing timbers and roaring flames deafening as part of the second floor gave way. "We gotta go, now! Let's go, everybody out, Lady, anybody else in here?"

Roberta shook her head in the negative as the pair of firefighters rushed her down the stairs. They traveled down through the once pristine marbled hallway and as they headed out the front door, she glanced toward the now ruined sitting room, flames licking up the drapes and walls. For just an instant, the view changed for there in front of her was the serene ghost who saved her life, casually bending over to smell a beautiful white Lily in a vase upon the sideboard. No smoke or flames or destruction touched her and then the vision faded away but not before she flashed a brilliantly proud smile.

* * * *

The thin lady wore a deeper shade of red today. She was furious! The tips of her red hair seemed to be on fire and her eyes blazed with hatred at the temerity of the spirit in front of her. At the sound of heavy footfalls behind her she turned and snarled out a warning.

"You'd better bring this one up to speed pronto, Reaper. She just cost me a ripe soul and I won't have it!"

"She's a free-will, she can do as she sees fit. And you'll not lay a grubby claw on her, understood?" Grimm shifted, placing himself between the devil's spawn in red and the shimmering spirit.

He spoke to the glowing form gently, "Go back to your park, see to the little ones, everything here is taken care of." He watched until she vaporized completely before addressing the seething creature in front of him.

"You have much to learn about the rules and how things are done here, I suggest you return to Hell whence you came and learn them before you appear before me next." He pointed to the ground and the angry demoness advanced on him, teeth bared and eyes glaring. Before she could utter another word, he calmly touched her sizzling skin leaving a burning scar behind as his finger traced a lazy squiggle the length of her forearm.

The she-devil sputtered into nothingness, leaving only a sulfur tainted smell as proof it had ever been there.

Grimm turned and strode off toward the city, he had several stops to make before he was done this night and dawn was only an hour away. Even now he could hear the last Rider heralding it's approach. His eyes stared heavenward very briefly before continuing on his path.

As he walked, he spoke. "This will be the hardest of all, I think. I will need the gift of Your strength." Grimm reflected over the many, many souls he guided to the other side. Some had gone willingly enough, some fought violently, but most were content to walk with him to their 'Just Rewards'.

He escorted three souls to Peter, and one to the Abyss of Hell before he returned to the office and sat at his desk. Only one sheet of paper sat in his in-box, waiting to be processed. The printer sat silently except for the occasional blinking of the energy saver button.

* * * *

The massive steed snorted and tossed his head. Steam rose from the sweat on his body as Rider stepped down from his mount's back and patted the horse on his silky black shoulder.

His gloved hand held the horn firmly as the steed slowly evaporated into the shadows. He brushed a speck of dust from his boots, then turned to the golden box and placed the horn inside. As the lid closed and the chest grew dimmer in the dawn's early light, Rider knew both steed and horn would be safe until his return.

* * * *

The faint sound of the elevator doors opening and closing gained Grimm's attention.

Rider strolled in, looking as haggard as he had the day before. He tossed his gloves onto his desk, switched on his little lamp, then grinned at Grimm.

"I guess you were right, here it is on a beautiful Sunday morning if I do say so myself, and we sit here in this office like we have nothing better to do."

"How long have you been a Rider? Almost a thousand years now, right?"

"Maybe, yeah, sounds about right. Why?"

"What would you do if you weren't a Rider of the Apocalypse?" Grimm stood looking out of the window watching the sun rise slowly above the horizon.

"I'd like to go fishing, I think. Or maybe just sit and enjoy things for awhile. But you and I know that's not going to happen. The night that comes without a Knight of the Apocalypse, is the beginning of the end. Like you said before, my contract is written in stone. Literally. I won't see a fishing hole or an empty beach for another thousand years."

Rider turned from his desktop, and walked over to where Grimm stood looking out. "Out of curiosity, why do you ask?"

The Grimm Reaper, who for countless ages served God and mankind in his way, struggled to remain composed. Never in his existence had anything turned him from his appointed duty. Not the young or old, mutilated or sick, not the newborns or those of Moses' caliber.

He handed his friend a sheet of paper. The last sheet that would ever grace his in-box, and the last soul he would escort for many years to come who will not have lived during the Age after the Second Coming of Christ. The sheet had but the single name 'David' on it.

Rider held the sheet tightly in his grip, and as he did so, Grimm placed his hand upon Riders' exposed arm. "David, Knight of the Apocalypse, Fourth Rider of Dawn, it is time to go."

The brief flicker of surprise lasted for only a moment in time before Rider took his hand. "So, it has begun."

"It has, my friend. You however, will be fishing and getting a sun tan."

"Will I see you again, Grimm?" Before he had the chance to answer, Rider knew. "I won't, I know that." Grimm pointed to a distant piece of land which bordered a clear blue sea, and in a flash the two stood on a beach.

"Do you think you can be happy here, David?"

Rider nodded, then turned away from his friend. Already his restless spirit, tormented through the ages, began to heal and glow with inner Peace. "Until then...." He smiled gratefully, then strolled down the beach while the shade of a great horse kept pace beside him, blowing soft tendrils of steam lazily upward from it's nostrils. Rider never looked back.

And the Grimm Reaper wept.