THE PHOENIX CODEX (Knights of Manus Sancti Book 1)

by Bryn Donovan

  Samir picked up the carved stone box from the side table and removed the lid.

  From a pocket in her robes, Val produced small silver tongs. She said, “I will place a burning coal in your palm, and you will grasp it with all of your strength as you repeat words after me. You will not let the coal drop or even open your hand until I command it, or this rite is forever forfeit.”

  Cassie froze. Jesus Christ. They’re serious. Terror short-circuited her brain. This was wrong, deeply wrong. They’re a cult. A sick cult. Val reached into the box with the tongs and drew out a glowing orange coal. No. Fuck these guys. Now was the time to get up, grab her robe, and walk away.

  But she didn’t pull back her hand. She didn’t want an ordinary life. She never had. In her heart, she yearned more than anything to fight with them and be one of them. She had come this far.

  Val placed the coal in her palm, and she cried out as it seared her skin on contact. I know you can do it, Val had said before. No. She couldn’t stand this for three seconds.

  Fuck it. I can stand anything. She gripped it tight.

  Val said, “With the wisdom of a thousand generations, my hand is filled.”

  Repeat. I’m supposed to repeat. “With the—” Fuck. What had she just said? “With the wisdom of a thousand generations, my hand is filled.” The agony from her palm throbbed through her whole body like a second, torturous heartbeat.

  “With the knowledge of a thousand worlds, my hand is filled,” Val said.

  “With the knowledge of a thousand gen—worlds, my hand is filled.” Cassie’s voice ended on a whimper as the coal continued to burn her, somehow hotter now than when she’d first grabbed onto it. The smell of her own searing flesh sickened her. Light flashed behind her eyes. If she passed out, would she fail?

  “With the power of a thousand spells, my hand is filled.”

  Cassie got the sentence out. Her hand seemed fused to the coal now, and tears bathed her cheeks. They’re monsters. In desperation, she offered the pain up to God or Val’s Goddess or whoever might be there. Not that any deity enjoyed her suffering. But she had nothing else to give, and maybe it could be transformed into something good. The corners of her vision dimmed.

  “Cassandra Rios, open your hand.”

  Her hand sprung open as if on its own, and Val lifted the coal from it. Her stomach roiling, Cassie stared down, bracing herself for the sight of oozing or charred flesh, exposed bone. Her palm was smooth and unblemished. Now that the coal had been taken away, she felt no pain.

  A magical illusion. Her soul sobbed in relief. She closed her eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath through her mouth, because her nose was running.

  Val said, “Cassandra Rios has completed the Initiate ritual with honor.”

  A touch on her shoulder. Samir handed her a clean white towel, exactly like one might get at a nice gym. As Val said something else in Latin, Cassie cleaned her face with it, blew her nose, and dropped it on the floor. She was gross. She didn’t care. Val looked pale, as though she’d gone through an ordeal herself.

  Samir handed Val the red robe. She said, “Rise, Cassandra Rios, and receive your initiate distinction.”

  Cassie’s soul swelled with pride at the words. This is it. I did it. Samir held out a hand to help Cassie up, which she appreciated, because her knees had gone numb. Val shook as she helped Cassie into the garment without meeting her eyes. Wordlessly, she took Cassie by the shoulders and turned her to face the crowd.

  When she did, they erupted into applause. Fresh happiness sprang into Cassie’s heart, and her eyes teared up again. I belong.

  As voices and cheers still echoed around him, Jonathan bowed his head and closed his eyes, willing his shaking body to still. It was over. He would have taken any pain for Cassie, and he’d been able to do nothing but stand by and witness as she suffered. Michael’s and Val’s initiations had both gutted him, but they’d both known the trial was coming and that it wouldn’t do permanent damage.

  Gabi squeezed his shoulder. He lifted his head and met her knowing and sympathetic gaze. On the dais, Cassie wore the red initiate robe she’d so bravely earned, and she was smiling now, her eyes sparkling with tears of joy rather than pain. Samir hugged her, which clearly took her by surprise.

  Jonathan took a step toward her when Val came rushing by him, her face the color of ash, bleak misery in her unseeing eyes. He took hold of her shoulders. “Val! Are you all right?”

  She blinked, finally seeing him, and her face crumpled. “I’m sorry, please don’t hate me.” Her voice strained high.

  Empaths could swing all too quickly to dangerous depths of despair, and although she was practically family to him, he’d never seen her like this. He tried to catch her gaze, and he spoke as unequivocally as possible. “I love you, corina, you know that. Nobody hates you.”

  “Cassie will never forgive me.” She tried to pull away from him. “I need to get out of here.”

  “Call me if you need me. Promise?”

  She nodded, and when he let her go, she rushed to the exit. He’d ask someone to go look after her.

  He looked back at Cassie, who was watching him with her lips twisted in annoyance, no doubt wondering why he wasn’t already at her side after what she’d been through. His heart overflowed with pride in the warrior he loved, unpracticed but fierce. He strode over to her, took her face in both hands, and kissed her, drinking deeply of her triumph, offering himself as reward. He still cupped her face as he told her, “You did so well. I’m so proud of you.”

  “I didn’t know that was going to happen—”

  “I couldn’t tell you. I’m so sorry.” He stroked her hair. The hatred he’d felt toward all of Manus Sancti—himself, first and foremost—was subsiding somewhat now that she was all right.

  “But it’s fine.” She held up her palm. “It didn’t hurt or anything as soon as I let go of it. What the hell was it?”

  “The Jaizkibel Stone. Made by a Basque witch, centuries ago. The burning is an illusion.”

  “It was real enough,” she muttered.

  “I know.” He took her left hand and caressed the palm that had caused her so much pain. “It was so much worse for you. You had no way of knowing it wouldn’t do permanent damage.”

  “How would anyone know that?”

  “If you’d grown up Manus Sancti, you would’ve been told beforehand. With outsiders, they make sure of their conviction.”

  She nodded. “Do you guys always use the burny coal thing?”

  He shook his head. “There are different ways to do it.” The dread that had dogged him before cast a shadow over his thoughts again. “Are you mad I didn’t warn you?” She’d just made a vow of secrecy herself, so maybe she’d understand.

  “No,” she said firmly. “I proved myself like everyone else.”

  He took in another cleansing breath and exhaled. “It was horrible to see you go through that. I’ve been through interrogation training, but…” He shook his head. This had been worse. He glanced back at the entrance through which Val had made her escape. “Val hopes you don’t hate her.”

  “She was just doing her job.”

  “It was hard on her.” He hadn’t meant to talk about everyone’s pain except Cassie’s. He raised her hand and pressed a kiss in her palm. “Not nearly as hard as it was on you.”

  Cassie’s brow furrowed. “I should go talk to her.”

  She was so good. “I’ll text Delphine to check in on her. People will expect you to celebrate.”

  She blinked. “What do you mean?”

  Hadn’t they even told her about this? “Everyone’s going to the solarium level to party. There’s going to be food and drink like you won’t believe, and dancing, and every single person will want to congratulate you personally.”

  “Wow,” she said. “Okay, I’d better go change.”

  “No. We stay in our robes.”

  She pulled her own robe more tightly around her. “But no nudity?”

&nbs
p; He laughed. “I can’t promise that.” An initiation party usually involved a lot of high spirits and alcoholic spirits. “But you can keep your robe on.” Taking her hand, he led her to follow the crowd.

  “Okay. As long as it’s not an orgy.”

  “I told them you didn’t want that.”

  She darted him a look and then grinned, realizing he was kidding. It was no wonder she had to make sure, since he didn’t joke around with her often. She was one of them now, officially a part of their world, and the selfish part of him exulted in that.

  “I wouldn’t mind a really exclusive orgy,” she said. “Like, only one other person.”

  “I can arrange that later.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Jonathan helped Cassie move out of her rental house in Phoenix. She packed up the quilt her grandma made, her gun, some pictures, and a few clothes. Everything else went to Goodwill.

  They had dinner with her parents, where Cassie asked them a lot of questions about relatives and friends in order to avoid talking about the vacation in Cancun that she and Jonathan had supposedly enjoyed and the new job she’d supposedly taken.

  The fake stories weren’t the only things making her nervous. Her mom, of course, already loved Jonathan, but she didn’t know if her dad would. He’d never liked Rick, even at the beginning when her mom had been trying very hard to see the good things in him.

  Cassie didn’t need to worry. His innate, respectful attitude toward his elders would have been hard for any parent to resist, and he asked her dad intelligent questions about running the stables, dug for cute and embarrassing stories about Cassie as a child, and just listened when her parents talked about people he didn’t know. It didn’t hurt that he kept saying complimentary things about Cassie, which he didn’t seem to be doing on purpose. Basically, her dad adored him.

  While they were in town, Cassie bought a bunch of new clothes from the mall and the army surplus store, including a couple of cargo vests, a utility jacket, and black work boots like Gabi’s. If she was going to be a Knight, she might as well look like one. It all went on Jonathan’s credit card, to be billed to Manus Sancti. When she asked him if she was spending too much, he laughed at her. “I’m pretty sure Val spends this much on clothes every week.”

  They moved in together at El Dédalo. The new place was like a small one-bedroom apartment, but after Cassie’s tiny room, it seemed almost spacious.

  “You don’t mind if I decorate this ledge?” she asked him. She was arranging her framed photos and her great-grandpa’s toy tank—now empty, of course—which she’d more or less repaired.

  “No, that’s fine.”

  She turned around to look at him where he sat on the loveseat. “Do you have any pictures you want to put up here? Of your family, maybe?”

  He looked thoughtful. “Yeah. I have some.” He rummaged through the unpacked box in the corner, found it, and then handed one to her.

  His whole family stood on a dock, blue sky and ocean in the background. “Where is this?” Then she answered her own question. “Must be Florida.” The laughing woman, plump and sunburned in her bright floral dress, bore little resemblance to the hollowed-out patient she’d met in the medical wing. “Your mom is beautiful.”

  She’d never seen even a picture of his father before. Tall, with a receding hairline, he had narrow blue eyes and an angular face, a serious man trying to smile for the camera. “Whoa, you look so much like your dad.”

  “I know.”

  Jonathan was maybe seven in the picture, with a thick shock of very blond hair, squinting up seriously at the camera. His little brother had been caught in the middle of springing up from a crouching position, laughing, his arms spread wide. He was so adorable it made her heart hurt, even though she’d never known him—or maybe because of that.

  She hesitated before saying, “Val told me your dad was pretty strict when you guys were growing up.”

  His eyebrows rose, and then his face assumed a nonchalant expression. “You know how sensitive she is.”

  “She said he spanked the hell out of you,” Cassie persisted. “And forced you to do that cage fighting.”

  He sighed, obviously realizing he wasn’t going to get out of this conversation. “I think he wanted to make sure we’d grow up, you know, strong. And with good morals. The way Knights ought to be.” He shrugged. “I think we did.”

  Obviously, he had, but he deserved most of the credit for that. Cassie looked back down at the innocent faces in the picture. “So you think that’s the right way to raise kids?”

  “No. I’d never be like that.” Her head snapped up again at his sharp tone. He added, “Children should always know they’re loved.” Although he’d defended his father’s behavior, it sounded as though he’d thought long and hard about not replicating it. Cassie must have had a questioning look on her face, because he spread his hands. “I’m just saying I don’t feel sorry for myself.”

  “Right, because God forbid,” she said, touched and exasperated. She got up and put the picture in the middle of the mantel.

  Jonathan watched her place the photo of her and Sam next to it. “I know this isn’t what you’d call a home,” he said. “You might get outposted to Saint Augustine or D.C. sometime. Then you could have a real house.”

  She smiled. “I’m learning Spanish and Arabic now. Pretty soon, they could send me to Mexico City, Buenos Aires, Cairo, or a bunch of different places.” But they wouldn’t necessarily send her and Jonathan to the same place, because they weren’t pledged or married. We should do something about that. “Right here is fine for now. You’re here. That makes it a home.” The affection and joy in his gaze warmed her down to her toes. She crouched down to look at his box of belongings. “You have any other pictures in here?”

  “Yeah, a few.”

  She pulled them out. The first one showed him and a few others in very fancy uniforms, yelling and throwing graduation caps and fists into the air. “What is this? Oh, it’s West Point!”

  He sat down on the floor to look at them with her. “That was a good day.”

  “Do you ever see any of them on Facebook or anything?”

  He gave her a dubious look. “I’m not on Facebook. What would I say?”

  “’Super tired after killing those zombies’,” she suggested. “Or I know, ‘Check out this ghost photo’!” She flipped to the next picture. Jonathan and a man who was clearly his brother, drinking beer with a couple of women. Sometimes, she had the worst timing. “You and Michael—I’m an idiot.”

  “You’re fine.”

  Jonathan’s ex-girlfriend, the sexy Russian elf, sat next to him in the photo.

  “I can get rid of that one,” he said.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s a great picture of you and Michael.” She didn’t need to worry about exes. Jonathan never stopped giving her reasons to believe in his devotion.

  His eyes widened. “If it were the other way around, I’d want you to throw it away.”

  “Well, you’re a jealous idiot,” she said sweetly. The other woman in the photo, also blonde but chubby and bosomy, hung on Michael’s arm and made a silly face for the camera. “Who’s that?”

  “Ha, no idea actually. Probably someone he met that night.”

  She flipped to the last picture, a wedding photo of his parents. “Ah, that is wonderful.” Jonathan didn’t say anything, and when she looked up, his expression was intent. “What?”

  He shook his head, a smile ghosting across his face. “Nothing.”

  The phone in her back pocket vibrated. She’d never been good about keeping her phone charged and handy, a fact that sometimes led to her getting texts along the lines of, Answer me, damn it. Somehow, Manus Sancti phones never lost their charge, and she kept it on her person at all times, like everyone else at El Dédalo. Jonathan took his out at the same time she did.

  She read, “1450, Victoria Room, 22 J189.” 1450 was the time—about a half hour from now. She scrolled down. “We�
��re both in this meeting. They must have tracked down some Tribunal.” The religious psychopaths couldn’t stay in the wind for long. Andre and other Diviners had been scouring the dark web, and the Knights in Rome had been questioning everyone they could think of, trying to ferret them out.

  Jonathan shook his head. “If it were Tribunal, they would have called in Samir.”

  Cassie looked back down at her screen. “I’m supposed to bring a guest from the entrada? What the hell?”

  Jonathan stood up from the table. “Same here. I guess we go together.”

  “I’m an initiate,” Cassie said as she followed him out. “Why’d they ask me?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  When they got to the security checkpoint, Jonathan found himself staring at the backside of a heavyset man walking through the body scanner and saying, “God, I hate you guys.” Morty Silva. At Jonathan’s side, Cassie laughed, but she looked away while Morty finished the body scan and got dressed again.

  When he spotted them, he looked more surprised than pleased. He strode right past Jonathan to put a hand on Cassie’s shoulder. “How you doing, babe? You kill anybody with wild animals lately?”

  “Yeah, but they started it,” she offered, smiling at him.

  “Huh,” he grunted. “Fair enough.” In a lower tone, though still audible to Jonathan, he asked, “They treating you okay here?”

  “Definitely.”

  Morty gave her a keen look, and Jonathan wondered what his empath abilities were telling him.

  He cleared his throat. “Hey, Morty.”

  Without smiling, Morty shook his hand. “Hey, Ace. How’s that back of yours?”

  “Healed up. Thanks. Why are you here?”

  He harrumphed. “I was hoping you could fill me in. You may as well just take me wherever you’re taking me.” As they started walking, Morty explained more. “Two of your goons showed up and invited me here.” He put an ironic emphasis on the word invited.