THE PHOENIX CODEX (Knights of Manus Sancti Book 1)

by Bryn Donovan

  “I’ll handle it,” Cassie said.

  Morty stood up and walked over to her, drawing a vial of something out of his pocket. “Let me give you a blessing before you go.” He tipped the vial against his thumb and made a crisscross on her forehead with the oil, saying a few words she didn’t understand. It smelled like pepper and wood.

  Feeling awkward, Cassie said, “You’re just like them, speaking Latin.”

  “Aramaic, but close enough. You too, Jonathan.” She didn’t think she’d ever heard Morty call him by his actual name before.

  Jonathan didn’t register any surprise, closing his eyes briefly as Morty administered the blessing. “Thanks, Morty.”

  Nic drove the SUV, Jonathan rode shotgun, and Cassie sat in back. A four-hour drive lay ahead of them, and she felt desperate for distraction. “Hey Nic, I have a question for you,” she said. “When I first came to El Dédalo, were you the one who packed that bag for me? With the clothes and the toiletries and things?”

  “That was me,” he said. “Why do you ask?”

  “No reason. I really liked the cowgirl pajamas.”

  He chuckled. “Figured you would.”

  She was tempted to ask him how he’d gotten her correct bra and underwear size, but maybe it hadn’t been difficult. They knew everything else. Instead she asked, “How long have you been a mission runner?”

  She thought it was an innocuous question, but Jonathan tensed up.

  “A while,” Nic said, casual as he completely avoided the question.

  “When I first saw you, I thought you were a Knight.”

  “He’d be a great Knight,” Jonathan growled. Nic said nothing, staring over the steering wheel. Cassie knew she was missing something here, but the upcoming demon smackdown kept her from thinking too hard about anything else.

  Nic switched on the radio and flipped around, making a sarcastic comment about a preacher on one station and a sports talk guy on another. When he got to a news story about the cannibalism incident at the Boy Scout camp, he turned it off. “They’re trying Palimpsest tomorrow.”

  “Yeah, what is that?” Cassie asked.

  “Rewriting the world’s memory after a trauma. If it works, the family of the boy who was killed will believe he died of a congenital heart condition—his body’s already been cremated, so there’s no evidence of anything else. The boy who was possessed will believe he had nothing to do with that death. And there won’t be any newspapers, radio shows, or websites to suggest the contrary.”

  Cassie’s jaw fell open. “That’s not possible. How is that possible?”

  Jonathan said, “It’s a mix of science, hacking, psychic work, and magic. There’s a team of over a hundred people, not just at El Dédalo. Andre’s the main architect. If it works, it’s going to be amazing.”

  She loved the idea of the possessed boy being able to live a normal life. At the same time, it seemed like too much power. “Are you worried that someone will mess with your own memories?”

  Jonathan shook his head. “They’ve done experiments, and deep in the psyche, the original memories don’t change. If you Read somebody, it’s still there. We have too many people with psychic ability for it to work on us.”

  “That’s why it’s called Palimpsest,” Nic added. “The traces are still there.”

  They rode in silence for a while. Cassie asked, “How far is this place, anyway?”

  “We’re about three hours out now. If you get done early enough, we can go into Taos. There’s a new Japanese restaurant, great sushi.”

  “Cassie doesn’t like sushi,” Jonathan said. They’d talked about this before. Cassie felt like sushi was cute and all, but it ought to be cooked.

  “Yeah, maybe something other than Japanese. No offense,” she said to Nic.

  “Do I look like a sushi chef? And I’m not Japanese.”

  “What are you?” Cassie regretted the words as soon as they were out of her mouth. “Sorry, that was stupid. I know you’re American.”

  “I’m not. Well, a couple of my aliases are. My mom was Chinese and my dad was Korean. I grew up in Seoul and D.C. And Paris,” he added. “I only mentioned sushi because Jonathan likes it. Though Michael was the one who really liked eating sushi.”

  “Stop,” Jonathan said.

  She looked from one to the other. “What am I missing now?”

  Nic grinned. “That was Michael’s favorite euphemism for going down on a woman. And according to Michael, he loved eating sushi.”

  Cassie laughed. “Well, I guess—” Jonathan cut her off with a look.

  “What’s that?” Nic asked, an amused glint in his eyes.

  “Nothing.” She’d been about to say that Jonathan liked it pretty well himself.

  “Tell you what, chica,” Nic said. “You kill this demon, and I’ll get you some tacos.”

  She snorted. “Very funny.”

  “You don’t like tacos?”

  “Actually, I fucking love them,” Cassie admitted. Who didn’t? “Wouldn’t eating tacos work as a euphemism, too? Or maybe it would be singular.”

  Nic shrugged. “Might be plural on a good weekend.”

  Jonathan said, “It’s like I’m working with children.”

  “Lightening the mood,” Nic said. “Just one of the many services I offer.”

  By the time they got to Colfax County, the sky was purpling to black, but thin patches of snow covered the rough ground like broken plates. They passed a sign that said the Scout camp lay a couple of miles ahead. Instead of continuing in that direction, Nic turned onto a side road.

  The wheels ground against the gravel.

  “We’re in the middle of nowhere,” Cassie said.

  “No, but we’re coming up on it,” Nic answered. Instead of feeling remote, the bumpy road felt all too familiar to Jonathan, as though they were driving through the wreckage of his own life. When Knights and Mages had an unsuccessful mission, the task almost always fell on them to make it right. Mi derrota, mi deber. You make a mess, you clean it up. It was the first time Jonathan had been sent to fix his own failure, and he fought to believe that it wouldn’t result in even more disaster.

  Nic made a detour around the yellow bars announcing the road’s dead end and plowed on over open terrain. They climbed steadily. Cassie watched out the window as though the demon might come screeching out of the scrubby pines. After a mile or so, Nic glanced at the GPS on the dashboard and came to a stop.

  They got out. The slamming car doors echoed in the silence. A cold wind cut through his jacket, and he caught a faint smell like rotten eggs or garbage, out of place in a wintry chaparral.

  “I hate it here,” Cassie said.

  Nic opened up the back of the vehicle. “Cassie, here’s your script.” He handed her a booklet and a flashlight. “And you can add this to your jewelry collection.”

  He moved behind her and brought her hair forward on one shoulder. Jonathan flashed back to one of the times he’d made love to Cassie, and before he even knew it, he took a step forward.

  Nic gave him a look of disdain. “Seriously?” The mission runner was right, of course. Jonathan knew he needed to calm down. Nic added to Cassie, “I’m putting it on you because the clasp is high-tech. This won’t come off you accidentally, no matter what.” He fastened it with a click. The smooth, oblong stones on Cassie’s neck reminded Jonathan of leeches. From the trunk, Nic pulled out a black backpack and handed it to Jonathan. “You’ve got everything you need in here for the spell work. And water. Jon, you’ve got a knife?” Jonathan patted his front pocket and nodded. “Good. The portal is a half mile this way, south by southeast.” He pointed.

  “I remember,” Jonathan said.

  “I’ll stay here with the car, beyond the perimeter. Call me if you need extracting. Go get him.” He made a gesture, holding his hand up, all fingers extended except for his ring finger, held down by his thumb. Good luck.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Jonathan slung the backpack over one shoul
der, and Cassie followed him on the trail up the mesa. If there even was a trail—she couldn’t pick it out by flashlight, and she was usually pretty good at tracking. The needles on the ends of the pine branches spreading across the path looked sharp and cruel.

  To keep up with his long strides, she had to occasionally jog, but she didn’t mind. She hadn’t really thought about it taking time to hike in, and she wanted to get there as soon as possible. Large rocks jutted out here and there, and she pointed the flashlight toward the ground right in front of her to keep from tripping.

  Despite her best efforts, he got several paces ahead of her, and after a long while she called up to him, “Do we have much farther to go?” It embarrassed her to ask, like she was a little kid hoping to get to Disneyland soon. But instead of the Happiest Place on Earth, they were going to the Most Hellish Place on Earth, or at least one of the 1,001 Hellish Places to See Before You Die.

  Jonathan stopped. “We’re pretty close.” He dug a titanium water bottle out of his backpack and brought it over to her. She took a long drink, and he downed a swig, too, before putting it away again.

  Behind them, a tree branch cracked. They both jumped and turned around, saying nothing, staring into the dark. Cassie expected to see a glowing pair of eyes. As nervous as she was, if a baby bunny had hopped up, she probably would’ve considered it a harbinger of death.

  After several moments of silence, Jonathan muttered, “Guess it was nothing.”

  They trudged on, reaching a flat and less wooded plateau, and then made another short climb up to a higher level, sharp enough that they had to use their hands to grab onto rocks. Once they were both on the plateau, Jonathan said, “This is it.”

  No moon shone. Cassie had never walked out into a wilderness this dark. The rotten, garbage-y stench assaulted her nostrils again. “Do you smell that?”

  “It’s a bad place,” he said in a low tone. He pointed. “The portal’s right there.” She could barely make out the black hole, like a little cave, and the silhouettes of a stack of stones above it. Jonathan’s makeshift memorial to Michael. It was still there. Sweat trickled down her back and under her arms, despite the cold. Would either of them get out of this alive? Would someone else add two more stacks to mark their passing?

  She pulled out the booklet Nic had given her and hunched her shoulders against another gust of wind. “Anti-possession spell first. All I have to do is say it.”

  Jonathan shifted his stance, planting his feet wider. “How can I help?”

  “Just stand by me.” She tucked the flashlight under her arm to flip to the first page, and then shone the light on the text. Her mouth felt dry and she was glad she’d taken a drink of water earlier, when she hadn’t especially needed it. She began reading, taking care to pronounce each syllable correctly and to raise the pitch of her voice where the type indicated.

  She finished and waited. Nothing.

  “I don’t know if I said it right,” she said.

  The rocks below her feet whispered, You do everything wrong. A feeling like bitter acid poured down her throat and then her spine.

  “Okay,” she said. “It’s happening.”

  Jonathan stiffened as though ready for an ambush, though there was nothing for him to fight.

  Why are you telling him? He doesn’t love you. He likes fucking you. The bitter acid in her burned. She gagged on it and bent over, her hands on her knees, as if she could vomit out the negativity.

  That’s how stupid you are. Not only the rocks, but also the trees and air spoke. You’re too stupid for this group, too selfish, too ugly, too weak.

  Val had told her to argue against it. “I’m not weak.” Her throat was so constricted that it came out a whisper, making the statement a lie. Jonathan’s arm was around her shoulders, and he was saying something to her, but it sounded like he was underwater. Fiery pain ran through her brain, spine, and every inch of her nerves. She fell on her knees.

  Pushing back his rising panic, Jonathan crouched down next to her. A strangled sound came from the back of her throat as she covered her head with her arms, rocking back and forth. “Cassie!” He pulled one of her arms away to look her in the eyes, and she struck out blindly, landing a solid punch to his face.

  “Leave me alone!”

  She thought he was attacking her. He lifted his hands. “Cassie, it’s me!”

  Fear and despair filled her wide, unseeing eyes, and her lips formed soundless words. Did she even know he was there? “Disgusting,” she whispered. “Loser. Your family hates you.” Jonathan froze. His father might hate him. Focus. Had the spell turned Cassie against him? She said in a small, broken voice, “Manus Sancti hates you. They sent you here to die.” Christos. She wasn’t talking to him, but herself, caught in the spell’s self-loathing. “He hates you.”

  This went straight through Jonathan’s soul. “Cassie, no!” He took hold of her shoulders, leaning close to her. “Listen to me—”

  Quick as a rattlesnake strike, she pulled the gun from his side holster. His heart stopped. In two seconds, he grabbed her wrist, wrested the weapon out of her hand, and tossed it out of her reach. He pushed her down to the ground on her side, straddled her, and took hold of her right arm, pinning it across her body. As she attempted to struggle, he took in a breath and let it out. She had no chance of escaping, and he could keep her like that as long as he needed to without hurting her.

  She went limp. “You’re a mistake,” she sobbed. “You’re the universe’s biggest mistake.” He ignored the urge to let her out of the restrictive hold and take her into his arms, though his heart was breaking. They never should have let her try this spell. He should have stopped it. With his free hand, he touched her hair, and she jerked her head away. Without even thinking about it, he’d been attempting to shield her psyche, even though he couldn’t protect her from the internal threat. In the edge of his awareness, her very being shuddered under the strain of the spell, and he realized that even if she wasn’t able to physically harm herself, this could still destroy her.

  God, please, no. He bent down close to her ear. “Cassie, remember who you are.” Even though his spirit quaked in fear, he kept his voice strong. “The love of my life. An initiate Knight.” He recalled her words about her family. “A beloved daughter. A beloved sister.”

  With another strangled sob, she thrashed against him. She couldn’t hear him at all, and she’d have to fight this alone.

  The struggle was exhausting her. All she had to do now was give in. Everyone would be so happy if she did, if she were gone from their lives. She’d be so relieved. A bonfire burned behind her eyeballs, charring the optic nerve. The pain. It reminded her—

  The initiation ritual. The red-hot coal. She’d gotten through that.

  It was fake! half of the cells along her spinal column and her brain yelled. But not all of them.

  It was real. It proved she was strong.

  You’re stupid. No one loves you.

  She shook her head against the malevolent hiss. Another voice came to her, kind, almost too faint to hear. Love of my life. Initiate Knight. Beloved daughter. Beloved sister.

  It brought her a glimmer of daylight. Her brain still screamed for her blood, demanding an execution. No one loves you—

  Even if no one did, there would still be her. She was someone. She mattered.

  The Universe’s mistake.

  With every bit of strength she had left, she fired back. The Universe’s plan. I was created on purpose because I was a good fucking idea.

  The pain behind her eyes receded. She gasped in a deep breath and let it out. Her throat ached.

  She saw a shadow. Heard, “Cassie please, come back to me.”

  She jolted in response to the voice. Stared at a face. Pieces came together like a broken mirror repairing itself. “Jonathan.”

  “You can see me.” He was straddling her where she lay on her side and holding her arm across her body, as if they’d been grappling, like him and Gabi at the gym.
“Is it still happening?” She shook her head, dazed. “Are you all right?”

  “Yeah.” The destructive force inside her was gone, leaving her light and free. She gave a shaky laugh.

  He released her from the restrictive hold and pulled her close enough to him that she could feel his pounding heart. “Thank God.” His gun. She’d grabbed it. That must have scared the life out of him. She was half drowning in saltwater and snot. He gave her his bandana, and she blew her nose. “Are you all right?” he asked again.

  “Yeah. That—” She shook her head. “That really sucked.”

  “But you did it,” he said. “I couldn’t help. You couldn’t hear me.”

  “I did hear you!” she exclaimed, suddenly realizing. He’d been that other voice. “You did help. And you kept the gun out of my hands.”

  “You should be immune now.” He looked at her with a kind of wonder.

  “I am,” she said without even thinking. She could feel the protection covering her like a hard shell. “Let’s get this demon to come out and play.”

  He scrambled to his feet and offered a hand to help her up. She found her dropped booklet on the ground.

  A growl nearly shook the earth, and a dark shape bounded toward her. White teeth glinted in the dark.

  Cassie shrieked, turned, and sprinted, forgetting she was next to the ridge. The ground beneath her feet gave way to nothingness. As she landed hard, her ankle twisted and her weight jammed down on top of it.

  Then gunfire. She struggled to an upright stance. Another shot. When she put weight on her foot, pain lanced through her. “Fuck!”

  “Cassie!” Jonathan scrambled down to reach her side.

  “I sprained my ankle.”

  “Sit. Let me take a look.” He guided her to a seated position on a rock, unlaced the boot in a few seconds, and eased it off her foot. As he gently removed the sock, as well, he asked, “Did you hear or feel a crack?” She shook her head. He ran his fingertips lightly over the bones of the ankle and the foot. “I don’t think it’s broken.”