Ghost Phoenix

by Corrina Lawson

  “Appealing to his good side doesn’t seem to be working,” Daz said.

  “Definitely not,” she agreed.

  “Then show him your anger,” Richard said. “Say anything you believe will cause a reaction.”

  She shrugged. Why not?

  “Speak now!” she ordered in Russian. “You say I am the devil. I will touch you and pollute you with my unclean presence if you do not answer why you have sought to injure me and my people.”

  Russian was a nicely guttural language for threatening people.

  “You can destroy me, but you cannot frighten me. Saint Rasputin has blessed me. My soul is cleansed.” The monk put up a hand, as if to ward her off. “It has been foreseen that our saint must destroy a devil made of fire coming to challenge him. You are the vanguard of this one and you hope to convince me to stray from the path? Never! We will not listen; we will help our savior cleanse the world to make it safe for Him. You must be cast back into Hell, all of you. Whatever happens to me, I will be in Heaven with God’s blessing. I Curse you and yours forever!”

  Marian could practically hear the capitalized H in Hell and C in curse. “You challenge me with the specter of Rasputin, a dead man? Ghosts have nothing to fear from other specters.”

  “Not dead, never dead, devil ghost! As our Lord was reborn, so our Saint Rasputin, he who is God’s chosen to cleanse the world, is reborn. He is coming! You will pay!”

  The monk began shaking uncontrollably. She jumped back to avoid being backhanded. Richard grabbed the monk’s head to prevent him from smashing it against the floor and cradled the thrashing body against him.

  In a few seconds, as quickly as the fit had started, it ended with the monk unconscious.

  Daz knelt and checked their captive’s pulse. He put his head on the monk’s chest. “He’s alive, but I have no idea what’s wrong with him.”

  “He’s told us all he was going to tell us,” Richard said. “He’s no more use to us now.”

  “We can’t just leave him here without medical help,” Daz said. “I don’t operate like that.”

  “Oh, and you think I would just let him die?”

  “Enough! I’ll take him back outside the wall.” Before anyone could object, Marian put her arms around the monk and turned them both in phantoms. At least he was limp. Doing this while he was struggling would have been impossible.

  She was roughly the same size as the monk. That meant she couldn’t make all of him go phantom at once. Too big. She didn’t have that much juice. But she could go phantom bit by bit, and turn him phantom the same way, as they passed through the wall.

  She closed her eyes, to shut out the world and be sure all her focus was on their ever-changing bodies. It all took maybe seconds for them to travel through the wall. To her, it felt like hours.

  She took a deep breath and let go of her ability. They turned solid on the other side of the wall. Fresh air. Nice!

  “Stop!”

  The yell in French came from someone rushing toward them.

  She set the monk at the base of the wall and slipped back through to the others. As soon as she was solid, Richard encased her in a hug. The musty smell of the corridor was replaced by the scent of his sweat and blood. His arms felt like a wall of steel protecting her.

  Good; this was very good.

  “God’s bloody eyes, Marian, that was dangerous. Do not do that again!”

  “That was not nearly as dangerous as fighting crazed Russian monks.”

  “And not nearly as dangerous as keeping secrets from someone trying to help you,” Daz said. “Or maybe you were setting us up, Prince?”

  “Why would Richard set us up?”

  “I know why he’d set me up. Maybe you were in on it. How come neither of you mentioned the possibility that Rasputin might be alive?”

  “I had no idea!” she said.

  Richard scowled at Daz and set her down. He held her out at arm’s length. She stared back. He held many secrets. Maybe he had kept something from her.

  “Did you know?” she asked in a voice near a whisper.

  “Angel, I had no more idea than you that Rasputin could be alive.” He turned to Daz. “Watch your words, Daz Montoya, especially in regards to her.”

  Daz took a deep breath. “I don’t know what to think. There’s an army of Rasputin’s monks and she can go ghost. And nobody filled me in on any of it.”

  “I knew nothing of the Russian monks.” Again, Richard stared at her. “I wouldn’t have endangered Marian with such a trap.”

  She nodded, any words caught in her throat, as usual when it came to him.

  “And, you, Montoya, should not be so quick to accuse me of something regarding the monks. I insisted on questioning one of them. Why would I do that if I knew about them?”

  “I have no fuckin’ idea. And that doesn’t explain why she kept her secret from me.”

  “Because I didn’t trust you enough yet,” Marian said in a quiet voice.

  “Great, just great. And here I was worried about saving your life.”

  “I appreciate that,” she said.

  “Appreciate it all you want, but you know what I’m thinking? You had the contact from Romanoff. If anyone set us up, it’s him. And that means you could be involved.”

  “I don’t think he would…I didn’t—”

  “I warned you, Montoya.” Richard stepped in front of her. “She is without blame. Five of us knew about the supposed meeting. The contact, Romanoff, and the three of us. And if I had to pick who betrayed me, it’d be you.”

  “Yeah, that’s why I fought off the monks.”

  “You fought to save your own life.”

  Marian stepped between them. “Can we all just assume we’re in this together? If I didn’t trust both of you, I wouldn’t be here. And, you know, your yelling could be echoing out to the other areas of the abbey.”

  Daz took a deep breath. He moved back several feet.

  “All right. Maybe I’m overreacting.”

  “The same,” Richard said. “I hate being attacked.”

  Wow. They had both just listened to her. Finally, she’d said something right.

  “The most likely explanation is that someone lied to Romanoff to set us all up,” Marian said. “That’s what he was worried about when he talked about curses. Or it was Romanoff himself.”

  “Russian Elvis seemed to like you,” Daz said. “And you still have to get him one of Elvis’s cars. That alone would keep him from setting us up. I think.”

  “Could be.”

  “Enough,” Richard said. “We should have this discussion back at the hotel.”

  “And just how do we get there?” Daz asked.

  “I know a way.”

  “I’m not going anywhere until I hear an explanation for the ghost thing.” Daz put himself in the center of the darkened corridor. They would have to go past him to go farther down the passageway.

  Well, Richard would have to get past Daz. She could go right through him.

  “Explanations?” she asked.

  “How do you do it?”

  “She does it the same way your people do: with psychic manipulation of molecules. This is her gift, passed down through the family. There is nothing further to explain than that. Now, enough, before I decide you’re an enemy.”

  “If you distrust me that much, why bring me along?”

  “Because you’re interesting,” Richard said.

  Marian snorted. That did sound so very Richard. Boring seemed about the worst thing in the world to him.

  “It’s what he said, Daz. It’s the family gift.” Or curse.

  “You should have told me,” he said again.

  “What difference would that have made?”

  “I was about to put myself between you and that monk.”

>   Crap. He was saying he’d have taken a blow or worse for her. “I’m sorry.” He was right. “Daz, it’s a family secret. I’m not supposed to tell anyone, ever.”

  “Everyone at the Phoenix Institute has some sort of psychic ability. If you told us back then, they’d have understood. You’re one of them. Us.”

  “You kidnapped me, remember? Besides, your telepath was damn scary.”

  Daz winced. “Beth is the least scary person I know.”

  “You mean she’s less scary than Alec, who commands fire, and Drake, who oozes menace? Don’t take this the wrong way, Daz, but given who else you know, that’s not reassuring.”

  He laughed. “Okay, I see your point.”

  “Thank you.” She meant it. Twice now, he’d tried to save her life, not knowing she didn’t need the help.

  “Are we the Three Musketeers and all for one again?” Richard asked.

  “I never thought we were. But okay, Prince, how do we get out of here?”

  Richard looked into the darkness. “We go down and then across, perhaps as far as two or three miles, if my memory is correct. I only hope the whole passage is intact. The door being undisturbed is a good sign but the roof could’ve collapsed. If so, we’ll have to turn back and risk going through the abbey proper.”

  Richard took the lead as they descended stone steps covered with dust that circled around a central column. Daz took up the rear, leaving her between the men.

  “I’m really sorry,” she said to Daz.

  “I guess I didn’t give much reason for you to trust me.”

  “There was the Girl Scout Cookie cocktail.”

  He laughed. “Getting you drunk is probably even less reason for you to trust me.”

  Their voices echoed in the downward-spiraling passage. Marian wished they would stop to look at the column they were winding around. Was it one huge stone or hundreds of little ones welded together? Were there any carvings she was missing in the dark? What would excavations in this place find? Perhaps the missing corpses of the royals?

  This place didn’t belong in a museum. It should be a museum.

  “How old is this passage?” she asked.

  “Older than myself, though it was expanded and reinforced during my time here,” Richard said.

  “There are immortals older than you and your brother?” Daz asked.

  “I suspect immortals go back as far as the human race. What happened to those who came before, I cannot say. Perhaps they gave up their desire for life and passed away. It was my Queen who began to organize us. Mayhap in other areas of the world, there was someone else filling the same role.”

  “So who’s your Queen?” Marian asked.

  “The Queen,” Richard said.

  Damn. She’d hoped for more than that. “Other immortals are hiding out among us?”

  Richard shrugged. “Or blending in. Who knows? I was tempted to find out once but then someone showed me how to surf.”

  “You thought surfing was more interesting than finding other immortals?” Marian said.

  “People didn’t seem at all interesting at the time, immortal or not. The sea changes from day to day.”

  “Did Lansing ever see this place?” Daz asked.

  “No, we moved away from here before he was born.”

  “Just how deep are we going?” she asked.

  “This deep.” Richard stopped at the bottom of the steps. She and Daz shone their flashlights into the darkness, revealing vaulted ceiling of bricks and cut stone. Cobwebs and other things skittered in the dark, but there was no sign of decay.

  The floor was solid stone. That explained how it was preserved so well. Dirt floors would have let in much more moisture, not to mention more creatures.

  “It must have taken years to build this.” If she could just get proper lighting down here, she would happily spend days puttering around. To say nothing of her father and her college professors.

  “It took over fifty years to build the first tunnel, and more passages were added to over time.” Richard closed his hand around her wrist and guided it to the left. “I believe this one will take us far outside the borders of the abbey.” He guided her hand to the right. “But not this one. It will merely circle back around.”

  Marian rubbed her wrist where he’d held it. Her skin was all tingly. “And what’s at the end of our tunnel?”

  “I have no idea what is there now. It will be interesting to find out.”

  Marian decided interesting could quickly become one of her least favorite words.

  “What if the tunnel’s blocked at the other end?” Daz asked.

  “We retrace our steps, wait until nighttime and slip out using the other tunnel. Darkness should provide us enough cover from anyone in the abbey,” Richard said.

  “And then what once we’re outside? Do we go back to our hotel room?” Marian asked.

  “That depends on what we discover when we rise from the earth, what the surviving monks tell the authorities, and if they’re believed.”

  “A bridge to cross after we get out of here.” She sighed. “If it’s blocked at any point, I can poke my head up and see what’s on the other side, at least.”

  “Handy power, that,” Daz said. “I wish I had it when I was a SEAL.”

  “Thanks, I think.”

  And that made him the second person in a week who was intrigued by her power rather than freaked out.

  “Alec would love to see you in action,” Daz said. “You have got to show him when this is over.”

  “It’s not over yet.”

  Richard took her hand. “Stay close.”

  Close, yes. She squeezed his hand. “Okay.” Something wet trickled onto her palm. Blood?

  “Are you hurt, Richard?”

  “A scratch.” He took a cloth from his pocket and wrapped it around his arm. “I didn’t even realize it was still bleeding. It will stop in a moment.”

  “Daz? Were you hurt at all?” Marian asked.

  “Nope, just bruises. The monks didn’t touch me with those knives. I’m not getting sliced by a poison-soaked blade again.”

  “When did that happen?” she asked.

  “Classified. Hey, I can keep secrets too.”

  They walked for a time in the dark and silence. Their footsteps echoed around them.

  “Richard, if Rasputin is alive, what’s our next step?”

  “I don’t know.”

  And, for once, he didn’t sound amused by not knowing.

  Chapter Twelve

  The end of the tunnel proved surprisingly anticlimactic. All was as Richard remembered. They easily opened a door at the exit, a twin to the one that led into the tunnel. Once on the other side, they walked up stone steps until they reached a wooden door directly above their heads, parallel to the ground.

  Richard and Daz pushed up to open it. Nothing happened. The door was jammed or buried under something.

  “It’s stuck good,” Daz said.

  “Let me try again.” Time to test his new strength. Richard heaved upward with his palms flat against the door.

  The wood creaked and groaned. The hinges squeaked. Earth crunched and moved on the other side. He put his back to it and gave one last shove.

  The door burst open to reveal a night sky.

  Richard flexed his hands. In his efforts, he’d nearly torn the door to pieces. His newfound strength would take some adjustment.

  They ascended into the night and looked around. They’d climbed out in the middle of a grassy meadow. The moon shone overhead. The faint sounds of cars passing by echoed in the distance, almost smothered by the sounds of crickets.

  “This seems too easy.” Daz brushed off dirt from his knees.

  “Would you rather have the police or murderous monks at this end?” Richard asked.

 
; “I’d rather have answers at this end.” Daz shut the door and kicked dirt and grass over the wood to cover it. Richard joined in, being very careful with how much strength he used. It would never do to put his foot through the door.

  Daz kicked one last clump of dirt over the door. “Now what?”

  “We walk back to the hotel,” Richard said. “The abbey is only about three miles from the hotel. We should be about that close now.”

  Marian held up her phone. “The GPS agrees with you. We go that way.” She pointed toward the sound of the cars. “We could call a taxi.”

  “And then someone will know this location,” Daz said.

  “Walk, it is. Sorry, Angel.”

  “I haven’t had my morning jog today anyway.” She pointed. “It looks like if we follow the road, we’ll get back to town and the hotel quickly enough.”

  Richard nodded. It had been so many years and the landscape had changed so much, especially because of the Second World War. Better to rely on Marian’s technology than his faulty memory.

  “What happens if the French authorities are waiting to question us at the hotel?” Marian asked.

  She hated smuggling for her family, and she didn’t like the idea of police. Marian had respect for the legal authorities. It’d been a long time since he encountered that too. The Court didn’t care much for rules, other than their own. “We were at the abbey, then wandered around this beautiful valley until now. That’s mostly the truth.”

  Daz snorted. “And if they have us on video?”

  Richard shrugged. “We’ll take the wave as it comes rather than try to predict how it will break.”

  “This ain’t the ocean,” Daz muttered.

  With each step, the walk leached energy from Richard, until he’d wished he’d called a taxi. His legs screamed their exhaustion. His calf muscles threatened to seize up. It wasn’t the exertions of the day. He could surf for hours or walk the beach for the same amount of time. His companions seemed to be moving easily. Daz kept a steady, quick pace, unbothered, and Marian showed no signs of being tired.

  His exhaustion was unnatural, like his strength. If this happened every time he used his new ability, the strength would be of limited value.