THE EQUINOX STONE (Knights of Manus Sancti Book 2)

by Bryn Donovan

  Of course, he hadn’t pushed it. It wasn’t his place; he looked up to her, and she was going to do what she wanted, anyway. He just didn’t want to lose her.

  “You two will be in a house a few miles from the school,” Nic told Val and then turned to Michael. “You’ve got a two-bedroom apartment, a couple of miles in the other direction. You’ll have midnight check-ins on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. You can take the call from the apartment, or you can go to the house and meet up with Jacinto and Val.”

  “I’d rather do that,” Michael said.

  Nic nodded. “Then go over there before eleven and leave by four a.m. Never go directly between the apartment and the house, or vice versa. Spend a little time somewhere else. There’s a gym, a diner, and a drugstore not too far away, all open twenty-four hours. If you suspect you’re being followed on the way to the house, go back to the apartment.”

  Val frowned. “Do you think that’ll really happen?”

  “Probably not,” Nic said. “As long as you don’t do anything to tip anyone off. Read the binder all the way through. Michael, it’s going to be easier for you to adapt since you went to U Miami.”

  That was true. And he had some experience with using a cover, while Val didn’t, though he’d only done it three times before. The last time, he and Jonathan had been acting as DEA agents. Jonathan was actually better at this than he was. He thought of his brother as one of the most fundamentally honest people he knew, but he was paradoxically good at making up lies and even inventing covers on the spot. Hopefully, some of it had rubbed off on Michael.

  Nic continued, “Make sure to look at the blueprints of the school and your houses on the last page. They’ve got exit plans written out below.”

  Val nodded, soberer now. “And you’ll be tracking our vitals?” A surge in heart rate or adrenaline usually let a mission runner know their Knights or Mages were in trouble.

  He nodded. “Michael and I will have our phones right at hand at all times. They’ve set it up so if you text us, it’ll zap our tattoos. You can always get hold of us immediately.”

  She frowned. “If I text, it hurts you?”

  “No. It’s like a buzzing. It’s enough to wake us up if we’re asleep, though.”

  “I won’t wake you up unless it’s important.”

  “Don’t worry about that,” he said seriously. “And let us know whenever you’re going to be near the principal. He’s the main target. Sometimes he makes an appearance in the cafeteria at lunch, but the first opportunity with him will probably be in a school assembly three days after you get there.”

  “Other people could be Tribunal too, though, right?” Michael asked.

  Nic nodded. “You’ve got profiles of every member of the staff and faculty. Val, we want you to Read all of them, or as many as you can. Any questions so far?”

  Val took a deep breath and let it out. “Reading that many people, and being in that school all day, is going to be a lot.”

  What was it going to be like for her to be stuck in large groups of teenagers all day? As he recalled it, being a teenager meant you had a lot of feelings. Kind of like he did now. The feelings he was dealing with were completely new to him, and inconvenient. Probably for her as well. But they would be of service to her too, and to Manus Sancti and the world, because they’d keep him vigilant in looking out for her.

  Nic said, “You can claim to be sick and go to the nurse’s office if you need to. Besides, you’re grieving. We can set up fake therapy appointments if you need a break.”

  “Thanks.” She gave him a small, grateful smile.

  “Today, you need to color your hair.” Nic gestured to the pink streak in front. “Eugenia picked up some hair color for you. And you need to try this on.” He picked up the tote bag and handed it to her. She took it and gave him a bewildered look. “School uniform.”

  “They have uniforms?” She pulled out a white button-down shirt, a plaid skirt, and a navy blazer, and grimaced. “What is this?”

  Michael couldn’t help but laugh.

  Nic said, “That’s what you’re going to be wearing every day. Well, you’ll have a few of each.”

  “It’s hideous.” Michael wasn’t sure when he’d heard her speak so emphatically. She pulled out black socks and black loafers. “You’re kidding.”

  “See if it all fits. The room next door’s empty.” Nic inclined his head.

  “And then come out and show us,” Michael said, in a supremely good mood.

  She shot him a look. “I don’t think so.”

  Nic said, “Uh, actually, you should. You both need to get used to you being dressed like that. That way, it’ll be less weird when you’re both at the school.”

  “Oh, Goddess.” She glared at Michael. “Don’t laugh at me.”

  “I’m not going to laugh at you,” he protested.

  Five minutes later, she came back into the room in the getup, a morose expression on her face. Michael burst out laughing.

  Her eyes widened. “You promised!”

  “Christos, Michael,” Nic muttered.

  She turned away. “Ugh, I look horrible.”

  “You don’t!” Michael protested. “Seriously. I was just laughing because you looked so cranky.”

  She looked back at him. “Really?”

  “You look like a teenager,” Nic said, approving.

  Michael disagreed. But then again, he was completely biased. He knew from porn and real life that lots of things turned him on, and that schoolgirl outfits were not one of them. But the uniform didn’t keep him from thinking of her body underneath it: the ample breasts he’d caressed and sucked, or the silken hips he’d held as he’d gone down on her, even though they were now swathed in a pleated plaid skirt.

  “I look ridiculous,” Val countered.

  With his foot, Nic scooted the duffel bag on the floor toward Michael. “Your turn. Flavia and I packed for you.” She was one of the Scholars whose names were on the brief in case he or Val had follow-up questions.

  “Happy to,” Michael said. He started to take off his shirt and then stopped himself. He should use the other room to change too. Picking up the duffel bag, he said, “Be right back.”

  “Put on the glasses,” Nic called after him.

  Michael returned a few minutes later in glasses, a red short-sleeved button-down shirt, and black pants. It was Val’s turn to laugh. Fair enough.

  He spread his arms wide. “I’ve never felt more attractive in my life.”

  “Having a cover doesn’t usually mean you look better,” Nic said, scrutinizing Michael. “I think it works.”

  “I look like I manage a Wendy’s.”

  “Don’t be a snob.”

  “I wasn’t. I couldn’t do that job.” He just didn’t think the look suited him. Maybe they felt the same way. “I think the shirt’s too big.”

  “All your shirts are going to be a little loose. You’re both wearing bulletproof vests every day.”

  “Comfy.” He wasn’t really complaining, though. He loved the idea of Val wearing one.

  “The new ones they’ve got are so thin, they’re not bad at all. The loose shirts are for your cover too. He doesn’t have the time or the reason to work out as much as you do.”

  He sat down. “All right, tell me about this guy.”

  “You both have to read over these. But your name is Mike McClure.”

  “I hate being called Mike.” He always had, just like Jonathan had always hated being called Jon—except, inexplicably, if it was Nic calling him that, which he always did. Val still called him Johnny, which made more sense; she’d done so since she was little.

  That was what their mother had called him. And she’d loved the name Michael, but not the name Mike, so she’d always corrected other people when they’d called him that.

  Because she was in the medical wing at El Dédalo, he hadn’t been able to visit her since his memories had come back. He wanted to, even if as far as the doctors could tell, she
wasn’t aware of anyone around her. When Jonathan was at El Dédalo, he visited her every Sunday after he went to the tiny Mass service, but Michael didn’t go quite so often. It always made him so sad, and it made him even sadder now. It seemed unfair that he’d been healed and she hadn’t been, not in all these years.

  Nic said, “You were born in Tampa to a devout Catholic family. Four brothers, two sisters. You went to a coed Catholic high school and then Ave Maria University. Make sure to read up on the section about Catholicism. Both of you.”

  “I’m already Catholic.” Not a particularly good one, but still.

  “You’re Manus Sancti Catholic,” Nic pointed out. “Anyway, you taught for three years at an overcrowded public high school. Now, you believe all public schools are garbage. You’d like to meet a nice girl, but you don’t know if there are any left in this day and age.”

  “I don’t know about this guy,” Michael said.

  “He’s kind of a dick. Val’s cover is nice. Melody Cortina. Super spoiled, but nice.”

  “So she’s playing herself?”

  “Hey,” Val objected.

  Nic grinned. “Not exactly. Read over them, and let me know if you have any questions. There’s all kinds of info in there, including lies you can tell if they find out you’re Manus Sancti. Memorize everything.”

  Val swallowed. “It’s only a couple of weeks, right?”

  “Two weeks at the most,” Nic reassured her. “Every day you’re in is a risk, so after that, we’re extracting you regardless. But if you can find the stone and get it, you’ll be out sooner than that.”

  “That’s not too long to feel ugly,” Val said.

  “You could never look ugly,” Michael said without thinking. That was something he would’ve said anyway, right? No. He probably would’ve made a joke to distract her from worrying about it.

  God help him. He was going to have to pretend to be a teacher at the same time he was trying to pretend to be a former version of himself…a version that was looking more and more like it was gone for good.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  A week later, Michael stood in the hallway outside a classroom full of girls, mentally settling into his cover.

  Mike McClure. He had a short haircut and brown eyes—the colored contact lenses looked unnervingly natural, making his own reflection in the mirror odd to him right after it’d become familiar again. He wore glasses, and he was a Marlins fan. He didn’t speak Spanish, but he’d been on two mission trips to central America. He was substituting with the hope of landing a full-time teaching job at a Catholic school, and he hoped to someday meet and marry a nice Catholic girl.

  Meanwhile, Michael wanted to have sex with and spend every free moment with a Goddess-worshipping woman he’d known forever.

  Had he made the right call by backing off? Shouldn’t he be over his obsession by now?

  Michael sighed and walked into the classroom. The chatter came to an abrupt stop, and he faced a room full of young, curious gazes.

  Where’s Val?

  In a moment, he spotted her, the bespectacled girl in the second seat of the row closest to the door. Nic had been right to make her try on the schoolgirl uniform beforehand. He would’ve been tempted to stare otherwise, because it was so different from her usual look.

  He turned around to face the blackboard, picked up the chalk, and wrote Mr. McClure in block letters. This is my first day on the job. I’m nervous. I’m a substitute teacher who wants to be respected. He was mindful of his posture, giving a slight slump to his shoulders. A mere change in stance could make a big difference in whether one was perceived as a warrior or someone who wasn’t a threat. He faced them again. “I’m Mr. McClure, and I’m going to be your homeroom teacher for the rest of the year.”

  “Why did Miss Stevens quit?” a girl in the back asked.

  “That’s Miss Stevens’s business, and if you have a question, raise your hand and I’ll call on you. I’m going to go over the rules of the class, so listen up.”

  He went over the rules the Scholars had planned, which included both needless restrictions and tenets of civil behavior that were so basic, they shouldn’t have needed stating. The room was a little too warm and smelled like must, floor wax, and sweat. He could only imagine what it felt like for an empath.

  Hopefully, Val was doing okay. Last night, when they’d met at the safe house, she’d been nervous. It’d been a meeting with Nic on the video screen and the older Knight, Jacinto, who was playing the godfather. Their presence had helped him refrain from taking her into his arms to reassure her, which he’d very much wanted to do.

  As he read from his paper, two girls whispered an exchange in the back. He broke off mid-sentence. “No talking.” He hadn’t raised his voice, but it came out sharper than he’d intended, with the weight of command behind it—less like a substitute teacher than, well, his father. The girls sat up straight.

  Okay, well, fine. Mr. McClure was a hardass.

  *

  The classroom was sticky with hormones, jealousy, boredom, and a lot more depression than Val had anticipated. When the bell rang, the students around her stood up, and it took her only a moment to remember she was supposed to do the same. As she filed out of the classroom with the rest of the students, a voice behind her asked, “Hi, you’re the new girl, right?”

  Val turned. The plump blond girl blushed. “Yes, Hi, I’m Melody Cortina,” Val said. It rolled off her tongue. She’d practiced saying it about a thousand times.

  “My name’s Britt. Well, it’s Brittany. Everyone calls me Britt. I mean, my family does.” As they walked down the hallway, the girl’s anxiety seemed enough to raise Val’s blood pressure. What was she so anxious about? Striking up a conversation with a fellow student? “Do you have early or late lunch?”

  “What? Um…”

  “That’s okay,” Britt said quickly. “You probably have someone to sit with.”

  “What? No! I have early lunch,” Val said, catching up. She was still getting used to the idea of having an assigned time to eat. “Could I sit with you? I don’t know anyone yet.”

  Britt flushed again. “I usually just sit with Mia.”

  “Okay, never mind.” She smiled to show she wasn’t offended.

  “No! I mean we would love to sit with you.” The poor girl was so awkward, Val wanted to hug her.

  “Great. I’ll look for you.”

  A few hours later, she found Britt with her friend Mia in the cafeteria and sat down at one of the long tables. On the trays in front of Britt sat pepperoni pizza on a plate, hedged with a bit of green salad.

  Val had brought her lunch. A cold noodle and vegetable salad with peanut sauce, a container of fresh pineapple chunks, and a couple of vegan almond cookies. One of the Stewards, at Nic’s direction, no doubt, had stocked the fridge and the cupboards at the safe house full of food that she liked, as well as Jacinto’s favorites. They’d apparently hit the deli section of a health-food grocery store when they were stocking up. It had made it easy for Val, who never cooked.

  “I like that lunchbox,” Mia said, as Val set its contents out on the table. “Where’d you get it?”

  The kitchen at the safe house was stocked with just about everything. Val had found the bamboo bento box in a cabinet. “My godfather got it for me.” She took out her teacup and saucer.

  “Oh my God,” Britt said. “That’s so fancy.”

  Val shrugged. It was standard, mass-produced in England, a blue pattern on white. She hadn’t even packed any of her fancy teacups. She lay a gossamer teabag on the saucer—matcha with lemon balm and passion flower, one of her own blends, to help with a stressful situation when she still had to remain alert. “I’ll be right back. I need to get some hot water.”

  Britt frowned. “I’m not sure if they have it.”

  Val had to laugh. “They’re a kitchen. They must have hot water.” She picked up the teacup and walked across the cafeteria. More than one girl gave her a strange look. Maybe
teacups were out of the ordinary here. She spotted Michael near the rear doors of the cafeteria, standing with his arms folded. He had “lunch duty,” which meant he was supposed to make sure no one misbehaved. He made eye contact with her, but it was fleeting. His presence reassured her.

  Nic had said Padilla might make an appearance, and she looked around for him again. There was no sign of him.

  At the lunch line, she didn’t see a place to get hot water. Dozens of students were queued up to put food on their trays, but she couldn’t imagine that she was supposed to wait in line for ten minutes for this. As she stood there, irresolute, one of the women behind the counter serving food called over to her, “You need something?”

  “Yes,” she said, grateful. “I need some hot water for my tea.”

  The woman frowned at the simple request. “We don’t have that.”

  What? It took Val a second to understand that she wasn’t going to get any tea today. Discouraged, she carried her teacup back to the table.

  Sometimes as a girl, when she’d been bored of her lessons at home in Cairo, she’d think that maybe it would be more fun to be in a regular school like all the other kids. Now she realized how much she would’ve hated it.

  “You were right,” she told Britt. “Oh, well.”

  The emotions in the cafeteria crowded around her, louder like the voices, a smothering atmosphere of anxiety, camaraderie, and loneliness. Britt herself was jangling with an anxiety that seemed uncalled for at a friendly lunch.

  Was it strange that Britt only had one other friend, when she’d approached her so eagerly? Should Val be suspicious of students as well as teachers? Some of the students might very well have Tribunal parents. The Tribunal had been mostly men, and had always had a low opinion of women, but some of them had been married to women and had procreated.

  She bowed her head, closed her eyes, and floated into Britt’s psyche.

  They were in a living room, sitting on a sofa that felt wooly. Val looked down. It was wrapped in yarn like a giant skein, although more solid.