Dagger

by Steven dos Santos

  Her sad eyes locked with mine. “You are trying to find him. If you help us, you will find what you seek.”

  Phillipe? Heinrich’s revelation at Angelo Scuro flooded my brain. “Do you know what happened to my brother?”

  “The dead who rise in the darkness hold the key. You must hurry. Or all will be lost. Do not trust anyone with what I’ve told you.”

  Uh, what she’d told me? I felt like Mulder in an episode of the friggin’ X-Files. Ginny might be cute as a button but her little Deep Throat act hadn’t revealed squat. It wasn’t the poor kid’s fault, though. Unfortunately, ghosts in general had a habit of laying on the cryptic real thick, as if reaching through the boundaries that separated the worlds of the living and the dead somehow turned them into cosmic teases.

  “Ginny. You have to try and tell me more.” I grasped her arms, or, more accurately, the space where her arms were visible. It was like shoving my hands into a cooler filled with ice. Her face lost its child-like semblance and contorted into a ghastly corpse with rotting eye sockets and a hollowed-out opening for a mouth, which twisted in agony. She’d gone all The Ring on me. Then she was fading.

  My heart threatened to burst through my ribcage. “Ginny, please come back.”

  She was gone, leaving me breathless with questions.

  What was her connection to the Age of the Sixth? And Phillipe. Was my brother a victim or a villain? Whatever the case, he was out there somewhere, and I was going to find him.

  I stared at the locket still clutched in my fingers. Maybe this was the key to everything, as Ginny had said. I’d have it checked out by Felanie, off-book. No sense getting DUST involved with anything regarding Phillipe at least. Not until I figured out Price’s game.

  Before I could rise, the light snuffed out, leaving me in total darkness. Something tore the locket from my grasp. A sharp pain stung the back of my head.

  Then I nosedived into the void.

  Chapter Eight

  Plunging through the cloud of blanketing fog, I glided over a vast ocean, the wind whipping through my hair, the air fresh and salty. A gigantic island emerged from the sea, the largest I’d ever seen.

  I zoomed toward it, caught in some cosmic telephoto lens. Details became crystal clear. An imposing palace, ringed by three canals, dazzled in the brilliant sunlight. Three walls made of brass, tin, and copper led into the compound. Not sure how I knew that exactly but okay, I’d go with it. Pyramids dotted the surrounding landscape, as grand as their Egyptian counterparts.

  Holy Dickens. This was no undigested bit of beef or a fragment of an underdone potato. Hell, it wasn’t even the byproduct of prescription meds or the effects of too much partying. The sting I’d felt in the back of my neck had been an injection designed to induce an out of body experience. And it felt sooo gooood …

  I’d experimented with astral projection during my training at DUST, learned how to separate my conscious mind from its physical shell and move into an astral body, journeying beyond the confines of time and space. A particularly useful skill, especially when having sex with someone you weren’t really into. Or so I’d heard.

  But this experience was different. Someone had hijacked my astral being, mindnapped me as it were, steering me on a predetermined course, and my spirit was just along for the ride.

  Freakin’ A!

  My teeth chattered from the icy wind cutting through my cosmic essence. A side effect of spirit transit.

  I tumbled to the ground, rolling for what seemed like a mile, before colliding into cold, hard stone. You know you’re having a bad day when even your hallucinations hurt.

  I rose. “Anybody home?”

  My only response was the wail of the wind, weaving through the stones that dwarfed me on either side. They reminded me of pictures I’d seen of the monoliths of Easter Island, except these stones were covered with familiar etchings. The same markings as those on the missing Dighton Rock, I was sure of it. Except there were three letters I had no problem deciphering. CRO. CRO? What was it about those letters that chilled me more than the wind?

  Resting amidst these structures were two gigantic pyramids, lying on their sides, their bases adjacent to each other. The all too familiar faces of the ghastly demon and the snarling dragon covered their surfaces, reminding me of Ginny’s amulet. Who’d injected me and stolen it? And what did they want me to see here?

  Trekking past the pyramids, I came face to face with a rusty, weather-beaten ship, leaning on its side. It looked like something out of the nineteen-fifties. Its markings suggested it was Japanese, but I couldn’t make out a name on the faded hull.

  I scaled the rocks around the ship’s bow. The entire horizon was littered with other craft, like some bizarre derelict graveyard. And not all of them were ships. Just beyond the Japanese vessel rested five old U.S. Navy airplanes, half-buried in the sand.

  My heartbeat throbbed in my head. No, that wasn’t my heart. It was a low rumble. A steady vibration. Beneath me.

  The earth shifted, throwing me against the nearest stone. I staggered to my feet.

  That’s when I saw it.

  An enormous wall moved toward me across the plain, hundreds of feet wide. It was rippling. As it grew closer I saw why. Thousands of people marched in unison, banners held high, depicting the demon and dragon, emblazoned in fiery red. Along with the letters CRO. Hmmm. A Welcoming Committee from the Land of Overkill, maybe?

  I almost passed out from an intense wave of déjà vu.

  I’ve been here before.

  “Welcome home, little brother.”

  It was Phillipe’s voice.

  I whirled. He stood with his back to me, gazing over the horizon. I reached for him. It grew dark. A monstrous wave rose high into the air, blocking out the sun. Then it plummeted down on us. Crushing. Suffocating.

  Salty water clogged my lungs. I spit it out. Vision or no, drowning here was the real deal. Panic overtook me. I thrashed in the coldness. If I could just reach him.

  “Phillipe,” I cried, the sound of my own voice jarring to me. Then I was gasping for air, sucking it up faster than a hooker on a tight schedule. My hands wrapped around his neck.

  “Whoa. Take it easy, guy. I got you. You’re okay.”

  Uh. That wasn’t Phillipe’s voice.

  I was staring into the face of Alexei Dimirov.

  The mind trip was over. “How did you get here?” I looked around. “And what are we doing inside Cassie’s dorm?”

  He flashed a dimpled grin. “You were passed out in the hallway and I carried you here.”

  I forgot the aches, the Reich, my Mom. Not to mention my pride and dignity. He was carrying me. Cradling me in steel biceps, pressing me against his firm chest. It was like being on the cover of a tacky Harlequin bodice-ripper, except they’d have to airbrush my drool off his shoulder.

  One second I was drowning in a tsunami, the next I was drowning in those damn gray eyes.

  “You had us kind of worried for a minute,” he said.

  “Us?”

  A finger tapped me on the shoulder. I broke away from Alexei’s gaze to find Cassie and Marco standing next to us, the former with her hands on her hips, the latter with arms crossed.

  “Yeah, you remember us. It’s me, Chopped Liver—” Cassie began.

  “—and her sidekick, Fifth Wheel,” Marco finished.

  Now it was my turn to grin. “Hey Guys.”

  “You can put him down now, he’s okay,” Marco grunted at Alexei.

  Alexei’s eyes were silver pools of concern. “I guess he just had a bad dream or something.”

  I was still feeling like I’d had one drink too many. “Oh, but it wasn’t a dream.” I managed in my best ingénue. “It was a truly live place.” I turned to Cassie, “And you were there,” then to Marco, “and you,” and finally to Alexei, “and you. But all I kept saying was I want to go home. And they sent me home.”

  Marco laughed. “I guess I’m officially a friend of Dorothy.”

 
“Drop him,” Cassie grumbled.

  Alexei chuckled and set me gently on Cassie’s sofa.

  I felt behind my neck. My finger grazed the small bump of the injection site. As soon as this little fiasco was over, I’d have myself checked out at DUST and find out what kind of toxin I’d been slipped. Though the more intriguing question at the moment was why?

  Cassie studied me and cocked her head toward Alexei. “So I guess you and Lex have already met?”

  Oh, Lex was it now? How chummy.

  “You might say that.” I avoided eye contact. The initial shock of awakening in his arms gave way to the memory of how he’d deep-chilled me out at the lockers.

  “Actually, we haven’t really met. Not officially,” Alexei replied. So what if he had a voice that matched his bedroom eyes. I wasn’t biting. His hand extended into my field of vision. Large, well groomed, and strong. “I’m Alexei. My friends call me Lex.”

  I turned to him finally, clasping his warm hand in mine. “Nice to meet you, Alexei. I’m Dagger. My friends call me Dagger. But you can, too.” Bitchy, I know. But I wasn’t a happy camper at the moment. I felt uncomfortable … and tingly. Residual effects of the drug. That had to be it.

  Better not to risk direct eye contact. Focus on his jaw. Yeah. The angular superhero jaw. No. His chin Just concentrate on the neat little cleft in his chin. Aw shit.

  He looked amused. His hand squeezed tighter. The guy had quite a grip. I forced myself to let go.

  He brushed a strand of wispy hair from his forehead. “Sorry about giving you the cold shoulder at the lockers. I was just yanking your chain. No hard feelings?”

  I tried not to dwell on the image of him yanking my chain. And the part about not having any hard feelings about him was proving to be a challenge. I stifled a pretend yawn and shifted one of the decorative pillows over my groin. “Don’t worry about it, dude,” I said, settling for a non-committal nod.

  “Dagger’s a great sport, aren’t you, Dag?” Cassie broke in.

  Marco lowered his eyes, suddenly interested in checking out his shoes. “He’s the best.”

  Alexei nodded. “I’m sure he is.” His eyes lingered on mine.

  I broke away first. “So you found me in the hallway?” My mystery injector must have moved me from the Treatment Center.

  “You weren’t answering your cell,” Cassie replied, “so I headed over to your dorm and found you passed out in the hallway, mumbling to yourself. Good thing Alexei,” she winked and rubbed his bicep, “showed up and carried you over here.”

  Marco sat beside me, rubbing my forehead. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

  I couldn’t tell them everything. I’d have to Reader’s Digest it. “I was on my way over and it started to get cold and kind of hazy.”

  Crap. The bracelet containing the Mimicron was no longer secured around my wrist.

  Marco studied my face. “You’re looking pretty pale.”

  “Maybe we should get him to a hospital,” Alexei volunteered.

  That’s the last thing I needed. I sat up and pasted a smile on my face. “I’m fine, really. It was just a little hypoglycemic reaction, low blood sugar, that’s all.” I stretched, risking a visual sweep of the room. Where the hell could the bracelet be?

  Cassie bounced up from the arm rest she’d perched in. “What you need is a tall glass of that Coke you brought, mixed with a little splash of rum from my secret stash.”

  Marco scowled. “Cass. If Limp Dix finds out you have alcohol in your room …”

  She pressed her fingers to her breastbone. “Who’s going to tell him? Besides, my boy needs sugar.”

  “Who’s Limp Dix?” Alexei asked.

  “Headmaster Dixon,” I mumbled.

  My heart ricocheted in my chest as Cassie reached into my shopping bag and pulled out a large bag of chips—and two perfectly normal looking bottles of Coke. The blood must have disappeared along with Ginny.

  Cassie opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of maple syrup, which looked suspiciously like rum when she squeezed it into two glasses.

  “Anyone else want anything?” she called.

  Alexei sprawled on the loveseat across from Marco and I. “You wouldn’t by any chance have any beer?”

  “You got it.” Cassie replied. She grabbed a box of cereal from the fridge door and removed a bottle of Bud from inside it. “Marco?”

  “Just Diet Coke for me.”

  She giggled. “You’re always so by the book. Live a little!”

  My hand went to my throat. At least the necklace was still there so I’d have Wi-Fi access to Marco’s computer. The buckle was still around my waist so no problem breaking and entering. Talk about feeling like a little shit. Here Marco was doting all over me and I was making sure I’d be able to break into his dorm.

  I had no choice. If anything happened to him or Cass I couldn’t live with myself.

  Without the Mimicron to provide two-way audio, I wouldn’t be able to keep tabs on things here. No sweat. Hopefully, it was still out there in the hallway or lying in the Treatment Center. I’d just excuse myself and go look for it before anyone else found it.

  “Oh, I almost forgot.” Marco reached into his pocket. “I think this belongs to you.” He held out the bracelet, the black stone glistening in the light.

  Oh shit.

  Cassie returned from the kitchen, plunking a tray down on the coffee table.

  “Here you go, Papacito.” She handed me a rum and coke.

  Judging from the way my stomach twisted as I accepted her offering, I’d have preferred a shot of the pink stuff. My dry mouth welcomed the swig. “You found my bracelet, Marco. I’d wondered where I dropped it.” I reached for it.

  Cassie handed Marco his poison and snatched the bracelet from his hand. “Nice. I never saw this one on you, Dag.” She twisted it around in her fingers, brushing the stone.

  I almost choked. The Mimicron was biometrically activated, and Cass had touched the stone.

  I gave one of my best nonchalant shrugs. I was really good at those. “That thing? I’ve had it for years. Found it at the bottom of a drawer.”

  Cassie offered the frosty bottle to Alexei. “Here you go, Lex.” She was still clutching the bracelet in her other hand. The Mimicron emerged from the stone. It was tiny, but if she looked too closely.

  I gulped my drink.

  Alexei’s left tricep rippled as he reached for his bottle. “Gracias.” He popped open the cap with his thumb like a pro and took a long swig. “Muy bueno!”

  Oh, brother.

  It was as if Boticelli had taken brush to canvas and given life to an artistic masterpiece called A Greek God Chugs a Brew. Only this Greek God was clad in a gray V-neck that matched his eyes, with long, reclining muscular legs draped in jeans, instead of a toga. He stretched his arm across the back rest, and Cassie melted into the empty seat beside him, along with my friggin’ bracelet. She was too preoccupied ogling Alexei to notice the bug. Something told me that wouldn’t be enough if the Mimicron decided to crawl up her arm. I fought the urge to toss down more rum and coke. I needed all my faculties in unimpaired mode.

  “So where do you guys like to hang?” Alexei asked, reaching into the bowl of chips.

  Cassie tossed the bracelet on the table, just as the Mim crawled free of the stone. I set my glass down, shielding the bug from view. Once I had the bracelet in my hand, I could will the insect to lay low.

  “We usually go down to Lincoln Road.” Cassie placed her hand strategically on Alexei’s knee. Tramp. “There’s this club, The Grotto, we’ve been known to hang at.” She turned and shot me and Marco a wink full of memory.

  I chuckled, leaning forward to pick up my drink, my fingers sliding toward the bracelet.

  Alexei reached for more chips. His warm fingers brushed mine, giving me goose bumps. He picked up the bracelet instead and leaned back in his seat. “Sounds good. I should definitely check it out sometime.”

  “We’ll definitely let you
know the next time we go,” Cassie said.

  Marco downed the last of his Diet Coke and set his glass down with a loud clunk, missing the Mimicron by millimeters. “It probably won’t be for a while.”

  Alexei looked annoyed. “That’s cool. Whenever’s fine.” He held the bracelet with both hands, twisting it around, studying the stone. “Is this onyx?”

  “Yup.” Shit. If he touched the stone while wearing the bracelet, the Mimicron would bond to him and he’d begin hearing voices in his head and think he was schizo.

  He looked up at me. “Mind if I try it on? I’m thinking of getting one like it.”

  “Sure. But I think the clasp is broken so you may wanna—”

  He snapped it around his wrist. “Nice.” He made a fist. His right tricep could ripple too. Who knew?

  Alexei’s face dissolved into an impish grin. “Are any of you guys into water sports?”

  I nearly spat a stream of rum and coke across the room. “Water sports? Yeah, I’m into water sports. Swimming, boating, diving, jet skiing, that sort of thing.”

  His finger hovered over the onyx stone a split-second, before he unclasped the bracelet and set it back down on the table. “Cool. Maybe we can go do it sometime.”

  The double entendres were getting to be a bit much.

  Marco cleared his throat. “Dagger’s a pretty busy guy.” He shifted in his seat. “I mean, aside from student council, martial arts, and yearbook, he’s also on the board of Montefuego’s chapter of the GSA.”

  Alexei’s eyes shifted to me, then back to Marco. “GSA?”

  “The Gay-Straight Alliance,” Cassie cut in. “Where the gay kids and the straight kids come together and, you know,” she made air quotes with her fingers, “ally.”

  Marco rolled his eyes. “We discuss issues, foster understanding, and promote better relations between each other.”

  I was not even going to dissect that word choice. Instead I plucked up the bracelet, snapped it on, and touched the stone, willing the Mim around the maze of shifting bottles and glasses. “Didn’t your old school have a GSA?” I asked Alexei.