THE EQUINOX STONE (Knights of Manus Sancti Book 2)
Page 5
“Fuck them,” Michael said cheerfully, feeling better than he had all day.
She laughed softly. “That’s what you said at the time.” She yawned.
“I should let you rest.” It was probably dawn, though who could tell down here?
“Thank you. For telling me about myself.”
She patted his hand where it still laid on her hip. “It’s my pleasure.”
CHAPTER FOUR
In the morning, Val woke up feeling very warm. Someone was holding her. What in the world—
It all flooded back. Michael was alive again.
Alive, and in bed with her.
One of his strong arms wrapped around her, hugging her close, her back against his broad chest. The stubble on his cheek grazed the back of her neck, and his even, deep breaths stirred and tickled her hair.
She’d been sleeping in her usual half-curled position. His legs, in sweat pants, nestled against her bare legs bent at the knees, his hips fitted to hers. The bulge of his unconscious arousal pressed against her backside.
Oh my goodness.
This was nothing. It was normal. It happened to guys in their sleep—didn’t it?
He’d probably clung to her in his sleep for reassurance. Most likely, he hadn’t even known he was doing it.
But before that, he’d wanted her—in the way that she’d only dreamed of, for years.
She should get up. But that would wake him, and he probably needed more rest. His emotional signature hummed in faint, steady contentment. Then he stirred, and she felt his surprise—and then his apprehension, probably because this was more contact than he’d asked for. He started to pull back…
She grabbed his hand and kept his arm around her, encouraging him to cuddle her a little longer.
What was she doing? He knew now that she was awake, but she squeezed her eyes shut, anyway, too embarrassed to say anything. His amusement and pleasure radiated through her, along with his body heat. Feeling his emotions at the same time that his body was pressed against her was an unfamiliar kind of bliss.
Her mother had told her, a long time ago, that sex was intense for empaths for that reason, but Val hadn’t given it much thought. Val had kissed a boy once in Cairo, and a few times in El Dédalo, she and a visiting Scholar had made out. It had been pleasurable, feeling both the kiss and his desire for more—but it had been nothing like this.
Anyway, he’d soon hurt her feelings. She’d told him about when her grandmother had died, and he’d been secretly annoyed and bored. When it had made her cry, she’d told him why. That had scared him off—realizing how easily she could sense his true feelings. Fortunately, he’d soon gone back to his guarída in Bucharest.
Of course, that was exactly why most people didn’t want to date strong empaths: there was no fooling them, ever. But for a short time, she’d found hope, half believing she was engaging in a proper romantic interlude with someone who was a better fit for her than the always-close but always-untouchable Michael.
He was certainly touchable now. And a perfect fit. She could enjoy it for a minute.
“Vega.”
Capitán Renaud’s curt voice made her jump. She extricated herself from Michael’s embrace and sat up. Heat rushed to her face as she touched the heel of her hand to her chest in an automatic salute.
Why did she feel so flustered? She hadn’t done anything wrong…had she? Behind her, Michael stirred with a discontented grunt.
Capitán clasped his hands behind his back. A typical stance for him, and it always reminded her of a general reviewing the troops. He’d changed into a dark gray suit and white shirt, with no tie, as always. “Any more disturbances?”
“No. Everything was fine.”
Michael gave a rueful laugh, threw off the covers, and got up. “Morning.”
She hazarded a glance at him sauntering to the adjoining bathroom. His erection showed plainly through the gray sweat pants.
Capitán lifted an eyebrow as the door closed behind Michael. “Your job is to make sure his psyche doesn’t fracture again. You’re not required to be his stuffed animal.”
Not the most flattering description of her, but maybe it was apt. Anyway, it made things simple. Capitán disapproved of any involvement, and she would keep her distance. “Yes, sir.”
“It’s your choice. He’s still an adult.” Well, that wasn’t so simple, after all. Could Michael hear this exchange? Probably not, because he’d turned on the shower. “Take an hour, and get dressed and washed up. Then report back here.”
She nodded. While she’d been sleeping, he’d probably been conferring with doctors, Mages, and Scholars. “Do they know why he’s back?”
“So far, the first theory looks like the correct one.”
*
After Val had bathed, she called her mother and father. They’d already heard about the news from Mr. West; Jonathan had called him the night before. “How is Mr. West doing?” Val asked. She always called him that—“Mr. West”—although Jonathan and Michael called her parents by their first names. “He must be overjoyed.”
A moment of hesitation hung in the air. “He’s cautious, because of the amnesia,” her mother said. “He had such high hopes at first that their mother would get better.”
She could understand Mr. West being wary of fresh heartache. An evil spirit had destroyed Thea West’s psyche, leaving her alive but unresponsive. By all accounts, it had nearly driven Mr. West insane. But still… “Did he at least tell Jonathan he did a good job by getting Michael back? By killing the demon?”
“Estrellita, we didn’t hear their conversation,” her father said.
“We’re going to call Johnny today,” her mother said. “We’re very proud of him.”
That mollified Val a little, but she couldn’t help but say, “Somebody should be.”
“You don’t know how hard it was on him after Theodora’s…accident.” It had been eighteen years, and they still hadn’t settled on what to call it.
“It was hard on his sons too.” Val’s temper rose. “But he was always hard on them. And they were boys.”
“We tell him these things. Even though he’s our comandante.” After another moment’s silence, her mother added, “We don’t want to give up on him.”
After Val said goodbye to them, she returned to the medical wing. Dr. Morales was giving Michael, now wearing a hospital gown, a full-body imaging scan.
When he emerged from the chamber and saw her, a light kindled in his eyes. Val couldn’t suppress a little spark of joy at that. “You’re back,” he said. “Nice dress.”
“Thank you.” It was a newer one, and one of her favorites, with its sweetheart neckline and the usual flared skirt, made out of navy fabric printed with cartoon kittens.
Michael said to Dr. Morales, “She can’t stay away from me.” He was back to being his usual cocky, charming self.
“She has orders,” the doctor said. “I need to take more blood.”
He looked to Val. “I’m beginning to think you’re all a bunch of vampires.”
“Vampires have been extinct for a century,” Dr. Morales said.
Michael rolled his eyes. “It was a joke.”
“Dr. Liu suggested another series of tests to look for changes in your DNA. Let’s try the other arm this time.” She tied the stretchy blue band around his upper forearm. “So far, your blood looks fine. Normal levels, no diseases.”
“No STIs?” He probably asked because Val had told him about his liaisons, but sexually transmitted illnesses and unwanted pregnancies were rare in Manus Sancti. From the time they were children, they were all taught how take precautions, and condoms and other birth control was free.
“No issues whatsoever,” Dr. Morales said. “You had no sexual activity for over thirteen weeks before you were gone, so we know it’s not going to show up later.”
“That’s a while for you,” Val commented before thinking about it.
“Why do you know that?” He turned to Dr.
Morales as she slid the needle into his arm. “Why do you both know that?”
“From your debriefing,” Val said.
He turned back to her, his mouth slightly open. “You watch me—?”
“No.” Had she ever blushed this much in her life? She did sometimes see glimpses of people’s intimate encounters, but not on purpose, and she cut them off as quickly as she could. She had no desire to invade people’s privacy. True, with Michael, she’d had flickers of curiosity…but she hadn’t indulged in it. She had morals, for Goddess’s sake.
Besides, it probably would’ve made her die of jealousy.
“I just ask questions,” she said. “And Knights like you, and Mages who go on missions, get your blood screened every month and full checkups every three months.” Everyone else got checkups only twice a year. Missions were hard on minds and bodies, and a few infections and viruses could be contracted from supernatural contact.
“See, that’s suspicious,” he said. “They’re selling our blood on the black market.”
Dr. Morales’s lips tightened slightly in annoyance. “You can get dressed.” She inclined her head toward the olive tee shirt and desert camouflage pants sitting on a shelf next to boxer briefs, socks, a belt, and a pair of work boots. It was a fairly typical ensemble for a Knight at El Dédalo, practical for a mission and comfortable for down time, though in his former life, Michael had preferred jeans. “We have a video conference with Dr. Holst in ten minutes. He’s a neuroscientist in Saint Augustine. Capitán Renaud and the team who found you will be joining us.”
Michael nodded, standing up and reaching back to untie the hospital gown.
“I’ll step outside,” Val said and retreated. She doubted either of them cared if she stayed, but she wasn’t about to give her attraction to Michael any more fuel.
When he was dressed and they both sat in the video conference room down the hall, Jonathan and Cassie soon joined them, Cassie using her crutches. Jonathan asked Michael, “How’d you sleep?”
Michael darted a glance at Val, and the corner of his mouth turned up. “Great.”
Jonathan frowned. Nic and Capitán Renaud came into the room, and Dr. Holst called in.
Val hadn’t seen him in years, and he looked more weathered but otherwise the same. A handsome middle-aged man with dwarfism, he had dark brown hair, a beard and moustache, and blue eyes behind steel-rimmed glasses. His English carried a slight German accent.
He began with questions directed toward Jonathan, Cassie, and Nic. Nic had the best grasp of the smallest details. This wouldn’t have surprised Val in any case, from what she knew of him, but under the circumstances—Jonathan and Cassie’s battle right before Michael showed up, Cassie’s injury and medicated state, and Jonathan’s feelings about seeing his dead brother walking and talking—it was no wonder Jonathan and Cassie’s recollections were spottier.
Dr. Holst grilled Michael longer. “Do you know what country you’re in?”
“United States.” Michael glanced at Val. “She said we were in New Mexico.”
“So you know New Mexico is in the United States,” the doctor commented.
“Yeah.”
Dr. Holst typed something into his laptop. “Do you know what the World Cup is?”
Irritation flashed across Michael’s features. “Of course.”
“Who won the last World Cup?”
He paused. “No idea,” he muttered.
“The brain stores personal memories differently from facts,” Dr. Holst noted. “My understanding is that you’re an avid football fan and you always cheer for Mexico, like your father.”
Michael looked to Val again. “Why do we cheer for Mexico?”
Jonathan said, “Dad was in Mexico City for years. It was before he met Mom.”
“What was he doing there? It seems like everyone moves around a lot.”
“He was a Knight,” Jonathan said.
Nic added, “We get shuffled around—you get shuffled around.”
Inwardly, Val winced, and Jonathan did the same.
It had been a few years since Nic had been a Knight. Val had heard from Jonathan, who’d been stationed with him in London, that he’d asked for a new assignment after accidentally killing a fellow Knight, Simon, in a mission gone wrong. Given the circumstances and the spell involved, no one had blamed him—other than the Knight’s cousin and best friend, Sophie Kazakov, who’d happened to be Jonathan’s girlfriend at the time. She’d blamed Nic enough for everyone else put together.
Why would Nic make that verbal slip now? If he had been almost anyone else, she might’ve tried to ask him about it later, but she knew that talking to Nic about this particular topic was impossible. At the time, he’d only told Jonathan the bare facts, and he might’ve left some out. According to Jonathan, he refused to discuss it at all now, even with him and Michael.
Dr. Holst asked Michael questions about finding himself up on the mesa, and then turned to Val to go over the fracturing of his psyche the night before.
He admitted at the end, “Of course, what Mages do is difficult to pin down from a neuroscience standpoint.” Some of their Scholars were convinced that all psychic work and magic had a scientific explanation, but they had only limited time to work on those theories. “I recommend that he comes to Saint Augustine to begin a drug treatment under my supervision.”
“What’s the drug?” Capitán asked.
“We haven’t named it yet. We’ve tested it with a few people with memory loss associated with Alzheimer’s, and it’s been very effective. Side effects are fatigue, migraines, severe dizziness, nausea, diarrhea, and vomiting.”
“Good times,” Michael said. “When can we start?”
“Vega, you’ll go with him,” Capitán said.
Her mouth dropped open. How could she just leave El Dédalo?
“West and Joe, you’ll go too. Joe, you coordinate it. Tell Demir in Saint Augustine that she’s your contact.”
Nic looked almost as surprised as Val. It made sense, though. He’d been the mission runner on both the night of Michael’s destruction and the night of his return, giving him a good understanding of the situation. He could also help Jonathan stop Michael if he tried to run away. Michael was a slightly better fighter than Jonathan in ordinary times, though they were well enough matched to be good sparring partners for one another. Val doubted Jonathan could’ve beat him in a fight now, when hurting Michael was about the last thing in the world he wanted to do.
Michael glowered. “Great. I get prison guards.” From Jonathan, a pang of hurt, quickly tamped down. Val ached for him. “A Scholar got killed on a trip recently,” she told Michael. “We’re being extra careful.” It was true, even if that wasn’t Capitán’s whole reason to send not one but two warriors along.
“Killed by who?” he asked.
Nobody answered. Their long history with the Tribunal wasn’t likely to make him feel better about Manus Sancti. The organization of religious fanatics had wanted to exterminate them since the time they’d been the elite members of the Spanish Inquisition.
“I can take care of myself and you,” he told her, annoyed, and agitating Jonathan again.
Conversations like this, with people’s emotions roiling under the surface, could be exhausting. They were the reason empaths sometimes needed time by themselves. “I’m going to need breaks,” she said to Capitán.
He nodded and looked to Jonathan. “West, before you leave, read her memory of his psychic fracture last night. It should give you an idea of how to handle it too.”
“They should leave as soon as possible,” Dr. Holst said. “Statistically, the longer he goes without recovering his memories, the less likely he is to recover them. I’m not hopeful in any event. In the meantime, though it’s a rudimentary approach, sensory triggers can be useful, especially of earlier memories. Photos from childhood, for instance.”
Jonathan’s shoulders slumped. “I only have a few. And I don’t think my father has any.”
“Oh!” Cassie said suddenly. “Jonathan can bring him into his psyche.” Everyone turned to her, and she added, “They must have thousands of shared memories. He can show Michael.”
“That’s not possible,” Capitán said with a hint of impatience. “Michael didn’t inherit the gift.”
“He brought me into his psyche,” Cassie said. “And I can’t Read people, either.”
They’d always thought Jonathan’s psychic gifts were limited—useful for a Knight, but nothing extraordinary. Recently, though, he’d managed to do this. Val had scarcely believed them at first. Manus Sancti had always considered it one of the Lost Gifts, gone from the world forever.
“Subsummation,” Capitán said, his gaze fixed on Jonathan. “Why wasn’t I informed?”
“I’m sorry. I only did it by accident with Cassie.”
“You’re positive?”
“Yes, sir,” Jonathan said. “I don’t even know if I can do it with anyone else. I tried it with Gabi, and it didn’t work. But I can try with him.”
Michael drew back in revulsion. “I don’t want to go into his head.”
This was the kind of thing Val and Jonathan might’ve said about the worst people in the world—murderers, torturers, the possessed—because their psyches were nightmares. The words stung Jonathan, but he brushed it aside.
“It might be the best way for you to get your memories back,” Val told Michael.
Capitán said to Jonathan, “Give it a try.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Michael mentally resigned himself to the plan. Valentina suggested they do it in her office, which he appreciated. He’d been stuck in the hospital wing long enough. “Can I get something to eat first?” he asked. “I’m starving.” He hadn’t had any food since he’d gotten there.
Capitán said, “Take him to the cafeteria first.”