Cursed (Codex of Enchantment Book 1)

by Briana Snow

  “Here, these are our current suspects at the moment.” The Special Agent raised the flip note book and showed the dumpy librarian the photographs of Verity Vorja (a shot off her mundane website, looking serious and unsmiling at the camera) and then a grinning and happy image of Penelope Harp, from her Facebook page that Special Agent Maximus had printed out just before he had answered the emergency call.

  “Do you recognize either of these two women as being here at the library today?” Special FBI Agent Maximus asked.

  “Well, well I know her,” the librarian pointed at the image of Penelope Harp, just as Maximus knew that she would. “She works here. Or she did work here. She was on the top desks for a while, but Simon, poor, poor Simon…” The woman looked about to erupt into a new round of wailing, much to Maximus’s rising frustration. However, somewhat amazingly, he saw her draw a deep breath and center herself. “Simon sent her downstairs, to the Special Collections, I think.”

  “The Special Collections…” Maximus had a sinking feeling. Oh no. It’s true.

  “Yeah, I think so. Nice girl, a bit quiet, a bit odd, but….” The woman’s eyes widened suddenly. “You don’t think that she has something to do with the attack, do you? Has she? Is she injured? Missing?” The librarian hissed in a whisper that was too loud to technically class as one. “Was she in on it?”

  “Well, I cannot reveal any information involved in an ongoing investigation, ma’am,” Maximus replied, flipping the page back to Vorja. “But this other woman. Did you see her, at all, in or near the library over the last few days before the attack?”

  The news media was already calling it some kind of lone-gunmen style event, despite the different reports that were emerging from loose-lipped ambulance men and survivors that no gun had been fired at all. It was a rumor that Maximus was only too happy to allow to grow, as he didn’t want people considering what might really have happened here this morning.

  “Well, you’d have to check the cameras maybe, but, wait,” the librarian tapped at her chin, smudging some of the red powder there into an almost comical line. “How tall is she?”

  “Freakishly so,” Maximus said, trying to stop the grin that was already beginning to spread over his face.

  “Yes, well, we do get an awful lot of people passing through the library you know, every day there are hundreds, thousands….” The woman started to doubt herself.

  “Very tall, ma’am. With red hair. Usually wears formal, but slightly outdated clothing. Think nineteen seventies pop diva,” Maximus said, his carefully curated formal mask slipping in excitement.

  “Red hair, you say? Well then, yes, I think that I did see her earlier.” The librarian nodded. “But it was only briefly. The two of them, Penelope and this woman, had run into the central hallway, just before the attack occurred,” the librarian said, her eyes far off as she remembered.

  “Then thank you very much for your time, ma’am. That is all that I really needed to know right now,” the special Agent congratulated her.

  “Oh, but, but I haven’t told you about the attack itself. It was red everywhere, and there was a shape in the smoke, it moved so fast—” the woman said.

  “That’s quite alright, ma’am. Please don’t put yourself through any more trauma than you have been through already.” Maximus used his best ‘friendly neighborhood field agent’ grin. “But if you remember anything else at all, anything else, then please just phone this number.” He gave her a business card with a very fancy F.B.I. insignia on one side of it, but with the number of a local Chinese take-out printed in cursive font across the middle. Special Agent Maximus had absolutely no intention of ever speaking to this woman ever again, if he could possibly help it.

  “Oh, okay, well—thank you officer…?” the dumpy librarian was saying, but the tall, square Special Agent was already moving off, back through the doors into the bloodbath, and across the hallway to where a line of small, yellow plastic markers indicated the suspected route of the attacker. He felt a shiver of apprehension, and kept his hand on the pommel of the gun in his pocket just the same, even though he knew that the route had been checked and re-checked, cleared and approved by the emergency response swat team. It was empty at the moment, as most of the officers and personnel had performed their investigation and returned to either interview the survivors or write up their reports.

  Perfect timing, Special Agent Maximus thought as he trudged down the corridor, following the markers where they took the path of least resistance to the nearest fire escape, and out through the still-open doors. The police cordon stretched around here as well, but there was no further signs of mayhem and disaster out this way. By all evidence, the attacker had gone this way after eviscerating half of the people inside the main hallway, covered in red dye, but had seemingly not attacked nor drawn any further attention to themselves at all.

  There was no one out here on this side of the building at all in the fading afternoon light, and Special Agent Maximus was left alone to his own devices. He slipped his notepad away and pulled out a phone, quick-dialing a number through a secure private connection.

  Chapter XIII

  “Special Consul Maximus. Light and Strength,” a male voice said on the other end of the phone line.

  “Light and Strength, Brigadier,” Maximus said evenly, keeping his tone low just in case any of the police officers wandered suddenly around the corner.

  “You are at the scene? Is it what we suspect? A Category Four?” the British voice said in a gravelly tone.

  “It is, sir, it would be a Category Five, if such things even existed,” he said a tad impiously. It always bode well to be formal with the Brigadier-General of the Knights Templar, but Special Consul Maximus thought that with his years of hard service out here in ‘the colonies’ that he had earned at least a little bit of familiarity with his direct superior.

  Special F.B.I Agent Maximus was not just working for the American Federal Bureau of Investigation, before such time as he had ever attended the super-secret training center in Langley, Virginia, he had already been approached by the British Knights Templar order, and shown a little of the hidden world that lurked always in the shadows around the normal human one.

  Although it was technically treason, what he was doing—he liked to think that the work that he did for the Knights Templar was a-political, in a sense, and extra-national. The Knights Templar did not respond to the remarks or the wishes of any president or prime minister, any senator or king. Instead, they only acquiesced to the wishes of the Vatican Council, and worked ceaselessly to secure the world against the dark supernatural forces that were arrayed against them all. At least, that is what the Special Consul Maximus believed, anyway.

  It was almost twelve years ago that he had been approached by the British Knights Templar and taken the holy vows to join the order. He had risen through the ranks quickly here, as the Templar lodges were so few and far between in America. Quickly, he assumed the role of Special Consul between the American lodges and the British ones, acting as a sort of senior ambassador and general for the American Knights. His friends in high places on both sides of the pond had only helped him in his career with the Bureau.

  There was silence at the other end of the line, and Maximus guessed that he had not, in fact, earned any particular familiarity with the Brigadier-general. Stuck up prig, Maximus thought to himself as he continued.

  “It is as we expected. A Category Four incursion. An Archon, I believe.”

  “An Archon? Then that must mean either a black magician of stupendous power, or…”

  “Or the Luminaire Minus Clavem has indeed been opened, just as we had feared,” Maximus answered.

  “The first volume. The Light-less Key.” Even the Brigadier-General of the Knights Templar, a man who had seen terrible things—vampires and ghouls and zombies and all sorts of demons—sounded shaken.

  “Yes sir, and I believe that I also know who is behind this Category Four, as well.”

  “R
eally? But who would be so stupid as to open the Luminaire?”

  “Verity Vorja. The Sisters of St. Agnesia,” Maximus answered. “I have a positive identification from a witness that she was seen here at the New York Public Library just recently.”

  “That meddling cow,” the voice of the Brigadier spat with a vehemence that, quite frankly, took Maximus a-back in its ferocity. He knew that the Sisters of St. Agnesia could be very annoying, even problematic at times as they occupied a very similar role to the Knights Templar, only they did not seem to have the same respect for the Templar way of doing things in Maximus’s opinion. “Well, at least the Luminaire curse will have taken effect by now, and we can take pleasure in the knowledge that Verity Vorja is sure to have died,” the Brigadier sighed somewhat happily.

  “Ah, well actually, sir, I do not think that it is Vorja who opened the Luminaire. Not at all, in fact.”

  “What?”

  “She appears to have taken on a new apprentice, another woman, whom I believe must be at least partly psychic.” Maximus thought to the picture of the other woman that he had found and printed out. If the Special Consul’s research was right, and Penelope Harp was indeed who he thought she was, then she would indeed be psychic, and that meant that she would be able to handle the Luminaire manuscript with impunity.

  “Oh, dear gods. The Sisters now have a pet psychic to do their dirty work for them, is that what you are telling me? The only thing keeping Vorja’s grubby little fingers off the Luminaire so far has been the fact that any human hand that opened it would meet a nasty end.” The Brigadier cursed. “Well. Full mobilization, it has to be. Whatever resources that we can supply at this end, we of course will,” he said sternly, although Maximus was sure that he could detect a little resignation in the voice.

  “And the Archon, sir?”

  “Same procedure as always, Special Consul. Track, Contain, Destroy. With extreme prejudice,” the Brigadier said.

  “Of course, sir, I had already suspected as much. There really is only one option for both the Archon and Vorja now, however,” the man said heavily. “And that would be to find the other volumes of the Luminaire to either put a stop to it, or to try and bargain for power with the lords of hell. And that means—”

  “That they are coming here. To Albion.” This time the Brigadier-General really did sound upset, and Maximus thought that it must be for good reason, as the prospect of the world’s most dangerous grimoire, followed by one of the generals of hell itself, could never be a very pleasing prospect for anyone.

  But even so, the Special Consul Maximus still thought that it was perhaps a little ridiculous for the Brigadier-General to insist on calling the United Kingdom by its ancient Dark Ages name of Albion. He thought that it was probably no wonder that the British Lodges would be quaking in their boots, and been unable to deliver the second volume of the Luminaire Minus Clavem to the Vatican.

  “Well, I will be on my way, sir. On the next flight,” Maximus said, taking great pleasure in the fact that his boss sounded scared.

  “Good. See that you do, Special Consul.” The Brigadier-General of the Knights Templar clicked off the phone, leaving Special Consul Maximus standing in the early evening air of New York City, a smile spreading over his face.

  “But first, Brigadier, I have a few things to do back here, and you will just have to wait and wonder if I am going to come along and save you all or not.” He smiled to himself, putting his phone away as, instead, he pulled out the notebook with the picture of Verity Vorja and Penelope Harp. On the next page, he had already managed to locate and write down her home address from a number of private databases that he had access to as a Federal Agent. It would be one of the first places that she would run to, and that meant that there was a possibility that both women might even be there still.

  And if I can get to them before the Archon can, then all I have to do is to make sure that young Miss Harp keeps a hold of the Luminaire manuscript, but not of Verity Vorja.

  The Special Consul Maximus had a plan, and so it was with great satisfaction that, on the way to his black, plain-looking sedan car—one of the many perks of being in the Federal Bureau—he received an altogether different phone call from dispatch.

  “Special Agent Maximus? This is F.B.I dispatch, are you on your 220?”

  “Dispatch, this is Special Agent Maximus receiving you loud and clear. Yes, on my 220 and pursuing investigation.”

  “Well, you might want to put a hold onto that there, Agent, as the Bureau has just received a general switchboard call from someone that flags up to your 220.”

  “Great. What’s the name, dispatch?” Maximus frowned, wondering if the dumpy librarian from earlier had indeed managed to get a hold of the F.B.I. general inquiries line after all.

  “We have here someone attached to the mobile network of Miss Penelope Harp, New York City. All sorts of bells and alarms went off when we verified her number.”

  Maximus didn’t believe it, but he wasn’t about to turn this gift down. “I’m sure they did dispatch. Yeah, she’s a missing witness on my 220. Patch her through direct to my line.”

  “Will do, Agent Maximus. Connecting now, dispatch out.”

  The line went through a series of strange beeps, whistles, and clicks, before the timbre of the audio changed, and the Special Agent was certain that he was listening to the worried panting of a very scared woman.

  “Miss Harp? Penelope Harp?” he said, trying to remember his ‘friendly and trustworthy’ tone. “This is Special Agent Maximus, with the Federal Bureau of Investigation, I understand that you may need our help?”

  “Special Agent? I can’t really talk right now…” the New York librarian said. She sounded like she was whispering into the phone, as her voice was echoing and raspy on the other end. “Umm… You’re not going to believe this, but I am sitting in my apartment, which is 13b—”

  “No need to tell us the address, Miss Harp, we can get that sort of thing from your phone number. Please, tell us the nature of your problem,” Maximus said.

  “The nature of my problem?” Penelope sounded as though she might break into tears, or hysterical laughter. “My problem is that earlier today, I saw most of my colleagues torn to pieces by a man old enough to be my grandfather! It’s all really confusing, and I’m sure that you won’t believe me, but it’s to do with this book, and this woman, and I don’t know how much of any of it is really real, or whether this woman is insane,” she whispered down the line, clearly scared.

  “Okay, Miss Harp, you’re talking about what happened at the New York Library, aren’t you, that’s where you work, isn’t it?” Maximus talked as he clipped his seatbelt and put his key in the ignition. Just keep her talking, he told himself. Keep her talking for as long as possible until he could get there.

  “Yes, yes, thank god—but the news say it was a psychotic gunman, and it wasn’t. This woman—I don’t think that she’s responsible, but she might be delusional herself, or part of a cult maybe?”

  “Okay, I understand, can you get away from her? Are you safe? Can you see Miss Vorja right now?” Maximus asked, gunning the engine.

  “No, yes, no, I mean that I am away from her. I’m in my bathroom. I’ve locked the door, but she wants me to fly to England with her. She says that a monster is after me, or us, or no—this book that I am holding.”

  “Okay, so you have the book with you right now?”

  “Yes, right here, leaning up against the bath.”

  “Okay, just stay in there as long as you can, Miss Harp—and whatever you do, do not go anywhere with Verity Vorja, do you understand?” he said firmly. “We are sending our best agent to you right now, who will make sure that you are kept safe from that dangerous lunatic.” Maximus realized that he was laying it on a little bit thick, but thought that, given what Miss Harp had just gone through then she probably wouldn’t notice.

  “Uhm, okay, right, okay, I will—but I don’t know how long I can pretend to be in the bath
room!”

  “Just do what you can, Penelope, I’ll be with you in just a few minutes…” Maximus heard the line click off at the other end, and hoped that it would be because the psychic was doing what he had told her to. A victorious smile spread its way across the man’s rock-like features.

  I’m coming for you, Penelope, and I’m coming for the Luminaire.

  Chapter XIV

  “Penelope? Are you sure that you are alright in there?” The voice of Verity was only slightly muffled as it emerged through the door of Penelope’s bathroom to where she sat next to the bath on the other side.

  She knows. She must do, Penelope thought suddenly, looking from the phone in her hand to the grimoire on the floor in front of her. For a moment, the Special Collections Librarian was overcome with a feeling of intense guilt, and couldn’t understand why she felt like that.

  It’s not as if I owe this woman anything, do I?

  “Yeah, I’m fine… Just sorting things out for the trip!” she called out, and reached up to rattle some of the cosmetics on the stand by the side of the bath. She was quite proud of her apartment, even though it was small, and she shared it with a mostly over-weight black cat called Blake, who terrorized the neighborhood, scratching at doors and windows whenever he got the chance. But she had put a lot of time into decorating it, certain that her life and her career was destined to be here, in New York.

  It’s what mum and dad would have wanted, anyway. Her eyes returned to her wallet atop the small pile of clothes and rucksack that she had brought in with her. Inside that wallet was another picture of her parents—although the ancient one on the end of the key fob that Dante had traded with them was her favorite. The key fob photo had shown her parents as they had been when they were younger, before they had Penelope.

  Two young teachers, looking to make a difference to the world. Penelope remembered the picture, now gone. Why one earth did I trade that, of all things? She thinks that she must have been in shock from the attack in the Public Library. I was ready to believe anything, that must have been it! How could she not, after Leonidas the security guard flipped and went mad in the way that he had done. Shooting up the place.