by Bryn Donovan
“Where is Saint Augustine?”
“Florida.”
“You don’t have one in L.A.?” It seemed like they’d want a West Coast office.
He shook his head. “There are so many Knights and Mages here at El Dédalo. We cover a wide territory.”
It didn’t seem that big to her. “El Dédalo,” she repeated carefully. “What’s that Spanish for?” It sounded like dead, but she knew the word for that was muerto.
“Maze, or labyrinth.”
It hardly seemed very maze-like to her, but maybe the name wasn’t literal. “What’s this Dr. Morales going to do to me?”
“Nothing bad. Just a lot of tests.”
Fantastic. “Why?”
“They want to make extra sure you’re a normal human. And healthy. Plus, there’s a chance those animal attacks are the result of a virus.”
“Like…a magical virus?”
He nodded. “We’ve been infiltrated with them before.”
“Who would do that?”
“We have enemies that go back hundreds of years.”
“You guys are all so weird.” Cassie drank down the rest of the tea, and another flush of well-being traveled all the way down to her toes.
“The medical tests are the last thing you have to do today. Then we can relax—if you can relax here,” he added.
“You should probably be in bed right now.” She set the cup down. “I’m ready.”
The doctor’s office was small. For an awful moment, Cassie thought Jonathan would stay in the room for the exams, but he told her he’d be right outside. Dr. Morales, a lady about her mom’s age, explained that if Cassie became at all agitated, she and her assistant—a large woman wearing scrubs—had shots that would bring down a healthy rhinoceros. Cassie was getting sick of being treated like a dangerous criminal, but she couldn’t get too sick of it or she’d prove them right.
They drew blood, made her pee in a cup, swabbed the inside of her mouth, poked at her boobs, and gave her what she supposed was every woman’s least favorite exam. After such a dramatic day, all of this left her borderline close to tears, but they weren’t done with her yet. An MRI scanned all of her internal organs. An EKG followed, and then she got a brain scan, during which the doctor asked her weird, random questions and had her play a boring videogame while the assistant monitored screens and typed.
“We still have to do blood tests, but everything looks good,” Dr. Morales said finally. “That’s it.”
“Oh, is that all?” Cassie quipped.
She didn’t smile. “Get dressed and Jonathan West will escort you to your quarters.”
Like Cassie was a child. No, like a prisoner. She guessed it was late in the night by now. When she came out of the office, Jonathan was sitting against the wall, half asleep. It would have been a long time to wait for her, after a very long day, even if he hadn’t been injured and jacked up on snake venom. He’d been offered the chance to relinquish the duty to someone else, and the fact that he’d chosen not to humbled her.
He got to his feet. “Hey. How are you?”
Sad. Tired. Wanting to curl up in a blanket. He probably felt the same way. Cassie settled for complaining. “Nobody here thinks I’m funny.”
His eyes kindled with sympathy. “At least you’re all done now.”
As they walked down a corridor tiled in the same marble as the hallway, Cassie asked him something she’d wondered about while Dr. Morales had had her rubber gloves all up in her business. “Did a lot of people grow up in this group, like you and Val did?”
He opened the door to what at first looked like a massive greenhouse. Cassie hadn’t seen this glass ceiling and walls from the front entrance. Potted trees and benches, some occupied with people reading or chatting, lined the perimeter of the space. “Yeah, it’s a family thing,” he said. “That’s mostly how Manus Sancti works.”
She followed him out to the middle of this huge glass room. “What’s Manus Sancti?”
The main part of the floor was also clear glass, showing through to depths below. People rose and descended on glass elevators, revealing moving mechanical parts that made her a little dizzy. Below lay stories upon stories of floors, all transparent, held up and bordered by white girders. People walked here and there, and their footsteps and the sound of the escalators blended into a hum. Cassie’s mouth fell open.
Jonathan said, “We’re Manus Sancti.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
They stepped onto the elevator, and Jonathan nodded at the woman who already stood there. Her eyebrows rose almost to the top of her purple hijab at the sight of a sonámbula, but she merely nodded back. Jonathan pressed the button to go to thirty-two. After the woman got off on level twelve, Cassie said, “I didn’t even know you could build something this deep underground. Not in the desert.”
It made sense that she’d think of how hard the ground was here, since she’d worked for a mining company. “Most of it was constructed on a natural cave system. But the same architect designed something like it in China. A secret government building.”
“I never heard of it.”
“Well, yeah,” he said.
They stepped out of the elevator. Cassie looked down at the glass floor beneath her feet, and then around at the dozens of full-sized potted trees surrounding the elevator bank. “People must know about this place, though. It’s so huge.”
As he led her down the corridor, he said, “We’re out in the middle of nowhere.” He touched the back of her arm, indicating that they needed to turn a corner, and let his fingers rest there a few moments longer than was really necessary. “Some people know this place is bigger than it looks, but they have no idea how much bigger. A bunch of the floors are archives and collections, though.”
“Wouldn’t it be easier to rent storage units?”
His smiled at the thought. “These are things that need a little more security than that.”
She looked up. “Whoa. Mirror ceiling.”
“It’s one-way glass. It lets light shine through, but you can’t see up at people.” It caused the light to undulate, the weak shadows bobbing and lengthening. The movement of people walking about them interrupted the light like leaves on a quaking tree.
Cassie paused to look around more closely, and he stopped immediately as well. “What if there’s a heavy rain? We always worried about the miners because of that. Or an earthquake?”
“The floors are designed to float a little, and the girders are flexible.” He tapped the railing. “And there’s a high-tech drainage and dehumidification system. It’s more protected from the elements than any traditional building.”
“You must save a lot on energy bills, being down here in the ground.”
“Yeah, and we have our own power source.” Jonathan found himself enjoying the unfamiliar role of tour guide. “Plus part of it’s designed to withstand a nuclear blast. If there were a disaster, we could get by down here for several years.”
“You guys are survivalist nutjobs.”
“But we’re so much more than that.”
She grinned at this, gratifying him. As they walked on, she said, “This place must have cost a fortune to build. I can’t even imagine.”
“It did. We mostly used workers from India and Bangladesh—that way, no one in this country would be talking about the job later. Officially, they were here to build a casino.” The cover story had been a huge effort on the part of the Diviners and the accountants.
“Hmph. I hope you paid them well.”
He liked that she thought of that. “Better than average American workers. They finished building about ten years ago.”
“But you guys are way older than that, right?” A yawn overtook her.
He yawned, too, because he’d seen her do it. “Our original headquarters were in Granada. We go back to the middle of the fifteenth century.”
“West.” Capitán Renaud’s deep voice came from behind them. Jonathan spun around, touching the heel of his r
ight fist to his sternum in an automatic salute. “Capitán.”
Cassie’s eyes narrowed, scrutinizing him. In his expensive suit, Capitán probably appeared to her more or less like a CEO of a Fortune 500 company. He was white with thinning hair, more gray than blond. His close-set eyes under the low, pronounced ridge of his brow gave him a feral look. “So this is the woman you brought from Phoenix. Has she been stable since you arrived?”
“Nice to meet you, too,” Cassie muttered, worrying Jonathan. This was not the time for her sarcasm.
He answered, “Yes. No problems.”
“I look forward to Val’s report. Even down here, spiders and snakes are a concern. One incident, I will have her neutralized.”
“Understood.” He was grateful Capitán hadn’t wanted it done immediately.
“You give the journal to Dimitriou?”
“Yes, sir.” Cassie shot him an accusing look. He’d forgotten to tell her that he’d taken her grandfather’s journal to Lucia Dimitriou, as he’d been instructed. “We’re meeting with her tomorrow.”
“Keep me updated.” Capitán Renaud turned and walked away.
“Who has the journal?” Cassie asked, keeping her voice down.
“One of the Scholars. They’re the only ones who can help you reverse that spell.” They went a little further and Jonathan said, “Here we are.” He stood close to one side of the metal door, and a small green light appeared on a panel on the wall. The door slid aside.
“Did you unlock that with your tattoo?” Cassie asked.
“Yeah. They keyed it to me.” He followed her inside, and behind them, the door slid soundlessly closed again. Cassie peered around the interior. The brushed steel walls of the small room had rounded corners and a microwave and a television built in. A full-sized bed nestled into the opposite wall, and a partition stood between the sink, toilet, and shower.
“You’ll stay here for the night, and then in the morning, we’ll talk to Lucia,” he told her. “You probably won’t run into Capitán Renaud again soon, but if you do, you’ll want to…” He searched for the right phrase.
“Not kill him with animals?”
“That, and not be a smartass.”
Anger flashed in her eyes. “Don’t tell me how to talk.”
Damn it. He’d hit a nerve, and he should’ve known better. There was nothing she hated more than being censored. He didn’t blame her. “Believe me, I don’t want to. I just want everything to go okay for you.”
She sighed and sat down on the only chair, a sleek metal form not far from the bed. “What’s his actual name?”
“Victor Renaud.”
“He seems like kind of a dick.”
Jonathan couldn’t help but bristle. “He almost died saving my father’s life in Granada.”
“Still seems like a dick,” she muttered, more subdued. “Were they on a mission together?”
“No. But they were both Knights at the time. It was a coup attempt—very bloody. When Granada was still the headquarters.”
“Jesus,” she breathed.
“It went on for three days. A faction of Knights and Mages turned on everyone else, killed the captain and several others immediately, and cast a powerful binding spell.”
“Were you there?”
“Both my parents were. Michael and I were just kids. We were at the apartment by ourselves. We didn’t know why they hadn’t come home.”
“Did you call the police?”
Jonathan gave a mirthless laugh. “We were raised to avoid the authorities. I mean, we wouldn’t have called the fire department if we were on fire. We tried to get ahold of another Manus Sancti family, but their parents were gone, too.”
“You poor kids! What caused the uprising?”
“That’s a really long story.” He was too tired to explain the intricacies of Manus Sancti politics and the supernatural state of Algeria in decades past. “But Renaud was able to organize this brilliant counterattack in four different places. The traitors were put down. And when my father got hurt, Renaud got hit with a scalding spell blast while dragging him to cover.”
“Wow.” She gave him a rueful smile. “I’ll show more respect.”
He sat down on the edge of the bed.
She said, “And your father’s in Granada now.”
He nodded. “He’s the comandante there.”
“Is Capitán Renaud his boss?”
“Yes, but each guarída mostly operates on its own.”
She threaded her fingers through her tangled hair. “What did your mom do?”
“Um, she was a Mage. A psychic, like Val. She went on missions, though.” He really didn’t want to go into that.
She shifted in her chair. “I ask too many questions.”
“Of course you’re curious.”
She kicked off one sandal and then the other, scowling down at them as though they’d wronged her. “I’m thirsty. And hungry.” She was probably starving.
He got up and pulled at a panel in the wall to reveal the compact but well-stocked refrigerator and freezer. “You should be able to find something.”
“Great.” She hopped up and came over to survey the bottles of water, green tea, juice, and beer lining the inside of the door. “I wish they had dark beer.”
“They have it at the cantina.”
“The cantina? This place has everything.” She sighed. “I’m too tired to leave the room again. And you must be exhausted.”
“Kind of,” he admitted.
“Any beer sounds about perfect right now.” She grabbed one of the bottles, unscrewed the cap, and scanned the rest of the food on the shelves, selecting an orange and a sandwich on a thick bun.
He showed her the control panel near the bed for the lights, TV, thermostat, and alarm clock. “If you need anything, press this button to call me. And there are spare clothes in here.” He touched the duffel bag at the bottom of the bed with his foot.
“Seriously?” She came over, setting her beer and food on the chair, and crouched down almost at his feet to unzip the suitcase. “Oh my gosh, look.” She held up flannel pajamas in a vintage cowgirl print. “These are hilarious.”
“They look comfortable at least.”
“I think I kind of love them.” She examined a pair of jeans. “These are exactly my size. Waist and inseam. Whoever packed this must be a genius.”
“That would be Nic.” Too many of that man’s talents were wasted as a mission runner. Nonetheless, his friend’s resourcefulness in that role was almost legendary.
She held up a pair of plain white bikini panties. “This is my exact kind of underwear!”
He could imagine peeling them off her. As exhausted as he was, the flash of fantasy woke up his senses and stirred his cock to life. Jonathan closed his eyes briefly and reminded himself that she wasn’t deliberately trying to drive him crazy. “I’ll leave you alone.”
“Yeah. I should take a shower.”
The image of her in the shower was almost more than he could take. He nodded and left the room.
As the door clicked and locked behind him, he felt a weary relief and satisfaction. She was safe, unharmed, and at least at the moment, unlikely to endanger anyone else. As he headed back to his own quarters, his phone buzzed, and he took it out of his pocket. She was calling him already? He answered. “Hey Cassie, what’s up?”
“Nothing! I didn’t mean to call you. I was trying to turn on the bathroom light.”
A smile spread across his face. “I forgot to tell you. There’s a separate panel for the bathroom lights. On the left.”
“Oh! Okay. Thanks.”
“Good night, Cassie.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Cassie dreamed she was back at Mission Minerals, having been out of the office for weeks. Angry emails from neglected clients filled her inbox, and while she struggled to compose an answer to one of them, Ana came to her cubicle to tell her that another group of clients was waiting for her presentation. It was going to be her f
irst presentation ever, since that was usually her boss’s job. She went to the conference room and said hello to the visitors while trying to remember what the hell she was supposed to talk to them about.
When she woke up, her first thought was relief: just a dream. Then she recalled why she was in a tiny studio apartment that looked like a spaceship. Oh, sure. This is a much better situation.
But strangely, she kind of felt like it was. The dream lingered in her mind, not because of the anxiety, but because the work itself had been so useless, it almost broke her heart. Mission Minerals. That had been a joke. Other than helping them wreck the earth for as much money as possible, she hadn’t had a mission there at all.
Jonathan came by her room before long, and she went with him to the library at El Dédalo. “Wow,” she said when they walked in the door. It was about ten stories tall with clear shelves. Walls of books floated below and above her.
“This is only part of the collection,” he said as they walked through the stacks. “They keep the older and rarer texts in the dark.”
“In the dark literally or figuratively?”
“Both.”
“It’s bigger than any city library I’ve ever seen,” she said. “How many people are here, anyway? In the whole place.”
“About a thousand, including children.”
“Children live here?” she squeaked. She could hardly imagine that. Underground like a bunch of baby moles in a nest.
“Not many. Most families get assigned to one of the guarídas. So they live in normal houses and apartments. But there are some. Gabi’s kids mostly grew up here.”
Cassie stopped walking. “Gabi’s a mom?”
“Yes. She and Andre are both pretty needed here at headquarters—”
“Gabi’s a mom,” she repeated.
He gave her a wry look. “Still yes.”
Cassie tried to square the daredevil-driving, rapist-killing warrior she knew with motherhood. “How does she take care of kids when she’s running around shooting demons?”