THE PHOENIX CODEX (Knights of Manus Sancti Book 1)

by Bryn Donovan

  Sometimes Cassie and Jonathan spent the night in his quarters, which weren’t much bigger than hers, but with a small closet for a wardrobe that she told him was Spartan—T-shirts, jeans, sweat pants, cargo pants, utility jackets, and one dress shirt, tie, and suit. Intriguingly, though, there was a black robe and a red one, which he said were reserved for rare ceremonies.

  One morning, when Cassie emerged from his shower, he looked up from his phone. “They think it’s a good idea if you call your mom.”

  Although Cassie wanted to call her, she frowned at the phrasing. “’They’ who? Your boss?”

  “And the Diviners.” The hackers, she remembered. The ones who’d noticed the animal attacks in Phoenix and figured out that she was the common denominator.

  “Okay. Can I use your phone?”

  “It’s a little more complicated than that.”

  He escorted her to a Diviner lab, a large, dim room where thirty or forty people sat at rows of computers. Screens lined the walls, some with lit-up graphs and maps, others with blocks of text and numbers. A black man near the back of the room stood up and gestured for them to come over.

  She tried to sneak looks at people’s monitors as they walked by. What were they all doing? A dingy copy of an old document filled one screen, and wave patterns traveled across another.

  Jonathan said, “Cassie, this is Andre Turner. He’s Gabi’s husband.”

  “Hey,” she said. “Nice to meet you.” He had high cheekbones and a narrow face with a closely trimmed moustache and goatee. Casually dressed in a gray Henley sweater and jeans, he stood a few inches shorter than Jonathan.

  He nodded in reply and said, “I’ll be setting up the call for you.” Unlike Gabi, he sounded thoroughly American. He gestured to the empty chairs near his computer and sat down himself. “You told your mother you were in Cancun, right?”

  “Yeah.” The fact that she’d lied to her mom embarrassed her, even though his wife had ordered her to do it.

  He took a swig from his travel mug of coffee with a New Orleans Saints logo. “Did you tell her where you were staying?”

  “In Cancun? No.” Even if she’d wanted to invent details, she wouldn’t have known of any hotels there.

  “Good. You’ll be calling from this resort.” He handed her a brochure, and she stared down at the shiny cover. A huge, sleek white building with a bright blue pool next to a white sand beach. She opened it to a picture of a porelessly good-looking white couple, both clad in white bathrobes, standing on a balcony staring out at the ocean.

  “I’m sorry, but this is a terrible alibi. I could never afford this place. I have about one hundred dollars in my bank account.”

  “You told your mother that Jonathan has a trust fund,” he pointed out.

  She had. “Holy smokes. You guys don’t miss a thing.”

  He flashed a smile, revealing a slight gap in his front teeth. “‘Don’t miss a thing’ is pretty much the definition of our job. We’re going to post these two pictures for you later today. We think your parents will be happy to see you living it up.”

  In one picture, she was walking along the beach and laughing up at the camera, holding up one hand like she didn’t want her picture taken, but with a smile that said she knew she looked cute in a bikini. In the other, she sat at an outdoor table in the shade, making an exaggerated expression of wonder and delight next to a large peach-colored cocktail with a fancy garnish. They resembled no existing photographs of Cassie that she could recall, and they were so flawless, they incited jealousy for her fake self. It would be fun to be on a beach without a care in the world.

  Jonathan smiled at the images.

  Andre added, “We’ll put them up with brief comments about how you really needed a vacation and how delicious the mango margaritas are.”

  Cassie was both impressed and horrified. “I love mango margaritas.” She used to have them at Thunderbird Grill with Ana after work, before she’d gotten fired. Sam had made fun of her for it once, saying it wasn’t a real drink. Ana was on Facebook a lot. In the past week, Cassie might have missed a call or two from her, and she might have been starting to wonder where Cassie was. “Fine, you can post them.”

  His mouth gave a wry twist. Clearly, he hadn’t been looking for permission.

  Once people had seen those pictures, it would be hard to change her story. If people saw her on a beach in Mexico, and she claimed to have been taken to a secret organization’s lair because of her supernatural powers, well. She’d wind up in a psych ward.

  Andre handed her a phone like Jonathan’s with a blank black screen. “The phone number will come up as yours. When you’re ready, press the center of the screen.”

  “Can I go in another room or something?” Jonathan pressed his lips together, anticipating a fight. “Fine, forget it. Enjoy my private conversation.” It was all lies anyway. She jabbed the middle of the phone.

  It rang four times, and she thought her mom was probably busy with a customer at the stables. But then she picked up. “Hi!” Her voice projected out of Andre’s computer as well as into Cassie’s ear. “It’s about time you called me back.”

  “Sorry, I’ve just been really busy.” Wait—that wasn’t exactly the right thing to say about a luxury vacation. “I mean, I’ve been having a lot of fun.”

  “Is that right?” Cassie could picture the shrewd look on her mom’s face. “I can’t believe you told me that this David was just a friend. How long have you known him, really?”

  “It hasn’t been that long. Though things did get intense pretty fast.” That was true, at least, in more ways than one. Jonathan’s gaze traveled without apparent self-awareness down her body and returned to her face again.

  “Well, I hope you’re using condoms,” Cassie’s mom said. Both Jonathan and Andre grinned. Cassie buried her forehead in her palm. Did Andre know that Jonathan and she had hooked up? Gabi had probably told him. “It’s probably easy to forget after being married for a while.”

  “I’m being safe, Mom. Please talk about anything else.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.” She was enjoying Cassie’s embarrassment way too much. “What kinds of things have you been doing? Other than, you know.”

  “Mom!” Cassie’s mind raced. What the hell did one do in Cancun? Andre pointed to the third page of the brochure, where another nauseatingly happy couple was exploring something called Chichen Itza. She scanned the description. “Um, we took this day trip to, like, a Mexican pyramid? It’s a really old ruin. Chichen Itza? I’m probably saying it wrong.”

  “Oh, sure. Your cousin Zoe went there once. I bet David was a great tour guide.”

  “Yeah,” Cassie said uncertainly.

  “I mean, since that’s his field. Archeology.”

  “Right. He knew all about it.” Andre pushed the two fake photos of Cassie forward. “But you know. Mostly I’ve just been walking on the beach and drinking mango margaritas.”

  “That sounds wonderful. You deserve it. You know what? You should post some pictures.” Andre nodded to himself, looking pleased at how well her mother followed a script she hadn’t read. “I’d love to see the look on the faces of those people you worked with. They’re at their boring desks, and you’re living it up in paradise.”

  “How are you and Dad? Anything new?” Her mom talked for a while about this and that—an aunt who’d broken her hip, a new gelding who was turning out to be a troublemaker, and how the food bank they volunteered at was looking into buying a bigger building.

  An alarm blared through the room and then was silent.

  “What was that?” her mom asked. Around Cassie, people had straightened in their seats, looking up at the screens on the walls.

  “Um, it was a boat.” Did boats make noises like that? She’d never been on one. “I—I’ve got to go. Love you.” She hung up and asked Andre and Jonathan, “What’s going on?”

  Everyone had turned their focus to a screen full of names, one lit up in red. A woman sitting not
too far away from her spoke into her headset. “Sector 18V, 124, Alvaro Limón, cardiac arrest from interrogation resistance training.”

  Jonathan’s blood froze in his veins. The screen flickered, and a live video feed appeared. No, no, no. He knew Alvaro only slightly, but this was a disaster.

  A Knight wearing a heavy jacket—Portia, he knew her—pulled a hood off a naked man who was bound with his wrists over his head. Alvaro shook as though it were freezing in the room, and his ankles were swollen. Jonathan remembered this experience in his own body. Another man kneeled over a second naked man on the ground, holding paddles from the defibrillator on the wall.

  Next to Jonathan, Cassie went rigid. He took her hand as he watched, his right fist pressed against his lips. God, let him be okay. The whole Diviner lab was silent, watching. No sound accompanied the video feed, either, but the man with the paddles placed them on the Alvaro’s chest and delivered a shock. The second naked guy, having just been freed from his chains, stood side by side with the woman who’d unbound him. The first man removed the paddles and began administering CPR. A medic carrying a steel case rushed into the room, produced a large hypodermic needle, and gave the fallen Knight an injection.

  A man in the lab asked, “Kat, any changes?”

  On the screen, Alvaro’s chest rose and fell. The Diviner who’d spoken before also took a deep breath. “Yes. He’s improving.” She pressed a button, and the big screen changed to a series of numbers and a heart rate monitor. “I think— I think he’s going to be all right.”

  “Thank God,” the man said as Jonathan sagged in relief.

  “What the fuck is this? What are you doing to people?” Oh, no. Cassie was pissed, seriously pissed. Kat looked over her shoulder and punched something into her phone.

  Jonathan grabbed Cassie’s hand. “Let’s take a walk.” He cursed himself for not getting her out of there right away. Maybe he could at least minimize damage, taking her off by herself before she decided she was furious at every single person around her.

  “That’s torture!” she said as he pulled her into the empty hall. “What the hell is wrong with you people—”

  “They’re volunteers!” He turned to grip her shoulders. “I did it, too.”

  Her face crumpled. “What?”

  He looked down the hall and back at the door to the lab. “I hope to God you didn’t trigger an attack.”

  “I didn’t! I—I started breathing like Val taught me.” Cassie had been practicing with Val for the past week, and he wanted to believe that was long enough for her to learn some control. “I didn’t have the blood taste in the mouth, or the—” She broke off, distress filling her big brown eyes. “Why would you do this to yourself?” Even if she hadn’t spurred the spell into effect, she still might get angry about what she’d just seen.

  Gabi and Tristan, a huge guy with a full dark beard and an intricate black tattoo on the side of his neck, strode down the hall toward them. Gabi called out, “Kat called for security. Should we be expecting a plague of scorpions?”

  “No,” Jonathan answered. “We’re good.”

  “I’m positive,” Cassie added.

  In Spanish, on the phone, Gabi told whoever had called them that there was no immediate threat. Tristan moved closer, and Cassie took an automatic step back. The big Knight probably did look intimidating if you didn’t know him. Jonathan hadn’t seen him since Michael’s death, and Tristan made the salute of respect for the departed, tapping his fist higher up on the sternum, his index and middle fingers extended sideways. “Salaam, Jonathan. I’m so sorry.” Jonathan nodded once. They exchanged a brief hug, more of a mutual hard pat on the back.

  Gabi gave Jonathan a questioning look, eyebrows raised. He shook his head slightly. “We’re going to take a walk.”

  “Where?” Gabi pressed.

  “El huerto.” In addition to getting her away from everyone else, it might calm her down to be surrounded by growing things.

  Gabi glanced at Cassie and back to Jonathan. “Fine.” She said to Tristan, “Go meet up with the others in medical.”

  “My animals wouldn’t go after the guy who got hurt,” Cassie snapped.

  “Portia and Eli will be there, too,” Jonathan said. “The interrogators.” He wanted Cassie to know that as brutal as the training was, those who led it had no desire to do permanent harm. He’d hated them right after going through it himself, but that hadn’t lasted.

  “You’re telling her where they are?” Gabi demanded.

  “She wouldn’t have to know for her animals to find them. But she doesn’t think she triggered it.”

  Gabi muttered. “All right, go. I’ll keep an eye on the lab.” Although Cassie had assured her no attack was forthcoming, Jonathan didn’t blame her for making sure, especially since Andre worked there. Jonathan took Cassie firmly by the hand and led her away.

  Even as she was walking with him, she said, “I don’t want to go anywhere.” Her voice was tight. “We need to talk.”

  “That’s what we’re going to do. Away from everybody else.” On the elevator, he said, “There’s no one on seventeen right now. I think you’ll like it.”

  “I’m not sure I like anything here.”

  They reached the floor, and the elevator doors opened to the sight and smell of green. They faced a brightly lit open area.

  Cassie blinked. “What is this?” She walked closer to an enormous carpet of lettuce striped with various shades of green and purple.

  “This way.” He guided her through endless trellises of tomato plants, some flowering, and others bearing fruit, green or ripening red. “How do they grow?” she marveled. “There’s no sun. There’s no dirt.”

  “I don’t really understand it.”

  Cassie took a deep breath and let it out. They reached a structure of dozens of plant-covered cylinders, rotating slowly, lit from within. Jonathan sat down on the bench there, and she joined him. “Do all Knights do that torture training?”

  He opened his mouth to object to her phrasing, but restrained himself. “Lots of us do.”

  “Gabi?”

  “Yeah, a long time ago.” She’d been one of the first, back at the implementation of the training.

  “Does that happen often? Cardiac arrest?”

  “No! A medical team monitors them so closely…” He shook his head. “That was a freak thing.”

  “What did they do to you?” Her distraught voice struck him to the heart.

  “Nothing that did permanent damage.” That probably wasn’t much comfort, based on what she’d seen, and he prayed to be able to make her understand. “Demons, brujas, certain human groups—they know about us. And any botched mission can get government attention and make them want to know more.”

  “Our government?”

  “For one. Fifteen years ago, one of our Knights in France, Jamal Nagi, was abducted by the CIA and imprisoned in Uzbekistan for four months. Tortured.”

  Cassie looked sick. “They thought he was a terrorist?”

  Jonathan nodded. “Wrong time and place, wrong contact. Wrong religion.”

  “I never heard about that— I guess I wouldn’t have. Why couldn’t you rescue him?”

  The tragedy pained him again, like an ache from an old injury. “We couldn’t find him. He was in an underground cement bunker, and back then, our tracking didn’t work that far underground.”

  “How much did he say about you guys? Is that why you moved here from Spain?”

  “He didn’t talk.”

  Her eyebrows rose. “Not at all?”

  “Don’t get me wrong, everyone has their breaking point. In Nagi’s case… Don’t get mad.”

  “I’m fine.” Cassie’s voice came out dull. “In his case, what?”

  “He dropped.” She stared at him blankly. Dropped was another example of their lingo, one of the few in English, used regardless of the language people were speaking at the time. He shouldn’t be telling her this, maybe, but he was in the middle of it now.
“You know there are several nanochips in the tattoo.” He touched the hip where his tattoo was. “Everyone has their own incantation that triggers an electrical signature from one of the nanochips, which stops the heart.”

  Cassie remained still for a moment as though stunned. “Jesus Christ. That’s so awful. What if someone else says it?”

  “It doesn’t work then. And it’s something you would never say accidentally, in a language you don’t speak. Mine is lines from a poem written in Bengali.”

  “What is it? Fuck, don’t answer that!”

  He had to smile. “I can tell you what it is in English. “It’s like…” He glanced up at the ceiling, finding it difficult to discuss something he guarded as his closest secret, but impossible to keep anything from her. “Well, the whole stanza is, ‘You have set me among those without hope. I know it is not my fate to win or to leave. I am here to play the game of my undoing. I will stake all that is mine, and when I have nothing, I will stake myself…’” He shifted on the bench. “The last line is the drop code—that’s the part I would say. It goes, ‘I will have triumphed through my utter defeat.’”

  Cassie’s face had drained of color. “That’s horrible.”

  He felt self-conscious. “I think it’s kind of beautiful.”

  “That’s what makes it so horrible! You’re not allowed to get captured or tortured, okay?”

  His gratitude for her mingled with bittersweet amusement. It was hardly a promise he could make. He intertwined his fingers in hers.

  After a short silence, she asked, “How many people know what your words are?”

  “My drop code? Me, and the Mage and the Diviner who keyed it. And now you know it in English.” Her mouth parted in astonishment. “Any mission runner can also remotely initiate the drop without the code, but that almost never happens.”

  “You must really trust your mission runners.”

  “We have to. For lots of reasons.” Cassie ducked her head, her hair falling in a curtain that hid her face from him. After a long moment, Jonathan asked, “Are you okay?”