The Pendragon Codex

by D. C. Fergerson

  She walked to Johnny, but he backed away from her touch. He wanted to pace some more and get riled up, but Cora wouldn’t have it. She rested her hand on his shoulder, pulling him close and leaning in until their foreheads pressed together. He exhaled loudly through his nose, the tension slipping away as if her touch took his fury away.

  “Dammit, girl,” he said. “I’d take the risk. You need eyes on you.”

  “You just be my eyes from here, okay? I can’t be out there and do my job and worry myself sick about you guys at the same time,” Cora said, her eyes welling with tears. “When that van blew up in Berlin...”

  “I know,” Johnny nodded, pulling her into a hug. His voice was soft and reassuring. “I get it. Like you said, I don’t have to like it.”

  Preamble

  Choking. Suffocating. The pressure of the fresh earth all around her, Cora pushed with her legs, breaking free of the dirt. She collapsed forward, laying her face against the ground, gasping and panting. Her eyes fluttered open. Decaying bodies shuffled and shambled in the distance, always forward, as if called by some bell she couldn’t hear. She looked to her other side, and sat up to check behind her. Their ranks went on forever, to a dark horizon blotted out by gravestones.

  She summoned the Spirit Sight to her with a thought. The dead were no different than a chair - no aura, no soul, no spark of life within them. Their only tether in the Spirit World ran to the center of her chest. She picked one at random, a man in clothes from an era forgotten, faded with time, skin leathery and taut against his skull. A pair of glasses rested crooked on what remained of the bridge of his nose.

  “Where are you going?” she cried out to him.

  No response, not even a sign he heard her. He shambled on with a sort of limp, dragging his weaker foot along behind him. Cora pulled her legs out from the dirt and looked down at herself. A vintage rock tee and black jeans, that’s what they buried her in. It only made sense if Giovanna wasn’t allowed to make the call. She crawled forward on all fours a few feet before she could force herself upright. She stared ahead to the distance, the place where all the dead walked toward. Within her Spirit Sight, a beacon of light blazed ahead, bright as the sun. A ray moved like a spotlight, coming right toward her. When the light struck her eyes, the intensity was so great it blinded her even as she shut them. A blast of white filled her vision.

  ***

  Cora sat up straight out of bed to a dark room. Her heart pounded, tingles like ice danced along her sweat-soaked forearms. Another night with the dreams, just like the four before it. She couldn’t be free of it anymore, and a full night’s rest had already become a memory. She leaned over to the nightstand and checked her Arcadia. It was 0400, a grand total of two hours since she’d ended another fruitless night staking out museums. The hotel bed was a cruel mistress, summoning her back to its soft embrace, but chilly and damp from her sweat. She shook her head, aggravated as she tossed off the covers and placed her feet on the industrial carpeting.

  Walking to the window in her shirt and panties, she tossed open the curtain to the darkest time of the morning. Someone needed to tell Paris that’s what it was, at least. The holographic billboards, the neon lights of the city, and the street lamps made it bright enough to look like day. The sky glowed a faint orange, making the stars hard to see. The architecture was so different from Berlin, yet the city lights reminded her of nights there, taking a day off to hang out in the Platz, drink fine German beer, and people watch. This time it was different, though. She looked out to the skyline from the Hôtel San Régis, with its breathtaking view of the Eiffel Tower, and she could find no joy or wonder. A hologram of a woman projected into the night sky beside the monument. She was fashionable and sexy, with eyes that stalked prey as she walked toward the hotel. She stopped, posing with a hand on her hip. She motioned to the Eiffel Tower, then held up a bottle of perfume.

  “Shitty commercials,” Cora rolled her eyes and sighed. This wasn’t the globe-trotting lifestyle she had in mind. This was just another day, another mission, another city she could say she’d been in but never really visited.

  Turning away from the window, she snatched up her earpiece from the nightstand and put it in. She hated how reliant she was on the damn things, but the alternative was an implant, and that was never going to happen. She tapped the comm button with a depressed sigh and headed for the wet bar.

  “Call Gideon,” she said.

  Two rings and he picked up. “You’re up early...or late?”

  “You’re one to talk,” she replied. “Do you ever sleep?”

  “Once I’m in NeuralNet, there isn’t much need. My brain does need rest cycles, but my wet drive mitigates the necessity down to about once every three or four days,” he said. “What can I do for ya?”

  “I don’t know,” Cora sighed, pushing aside miniature bottles of wine to find the hard stuff. “What’s on the itinerary for today?”

  “Lady’s choice. We can try the Palais de la Decouverte or we can do the Louvre again,” Gideon replied.

  Cora found a bottle. She couldn’t speak French, but she definitely understood the word cognac. She grabbed three of the tiny bottles and a tumbler. “I don’t know. I just don’t get it. Julian’s had his team in position four nights now. Why isn’t she jumping on the bait? If she wants to beat us to these, why doesn’t she just take them?”

  “It’s hard to say,” Gideon’s robotic voice sighed, a creepy sound accompanied by an unnatural vibrato. “I mean, the Project Phoenix data they’ve salvaged doesn’t have any other hits in Paris except these two. Maybe she knows that?”

  “If she’s working for Lucius, she knows,” Cora replied, sucking down the full tumbler in a single gulp. “I don’t think she is, though. I think she’s freelance, and I think she’s looking for something. There’s a piece of the puzzle we’re still missing.”

  “It’s possible,” Gideon said. He paused. “Why don’t you go back to bed, Cora?”

  “Because I don’t want to,” she replied, annoyed. “Is that enough of an answer?”

  “Look, there’s no need to cop the attitude,” Gideon replied. He was taking a stand. She’d be proud of him showing some spine, if he hadn’t decided to do it with her. “This isn’t one of those no-sleep, keep-running-or-you-die missions. We’re on a stake-out.”

  “I’m going to shower,” she replied, her tone curt.

  “Cora, c’mon,” Gideon moaned.

  “It’s fine,” she said. It wasn’t fine at all. “I’ll ring you back when I know what we’re doing.”

  She pressed the comm button and pulled out the earpiece, tossing it on the bed as she strode for the bathroom. Cora was wealthy, and could have easily afforded this room, but Julian threw money around like he couldn’t spend his fortune in a single lifetime. Perhaps Merlin’s tutelage over the centuries involved piling a nest egg for future generations that rivaled the great dynasties of history. Either way, she had a tub she could swim in and a shower with four heads. She tossed off what little she wore to bed and stepped into a hot shower, eager to wash the memories and sweat away.

  After her fingers had turned to prunes, she toweled off and sat on the bed, watching GNN as she cleaned her Apex Predator. Her mind ran on autopilot, field-stripping her pistol and connecting the magnetically-accelerated barrel to the wall charger. Stories on the news were the usual fluff for a slow news day, with celebrity interviews and talking heads going on about trade relations between Japan and Germany, and how the elves were mysterious and steeped in tradition, making negotiations difficult. They talked about yet another Siren attack involving some playboy on his yacht in the Caribbean, about Troll gangs in Detroit stepping up a turf war with rival human gangs. The world was on fire, nothing new to see there.

  Cora’s Arcadia buzzed on her wrist. With the rising sun came a better mood. Perhaps she was too hard on Gideon. She swiped out the screen and tapped the answer button without a thought.

  “What’s up, Gideon?”

&n
bsp; “I’m sorry, Madame,” a stranger’s voice replied with a thick French accent. “This is Louis at the front desk. Call for you, shall I patch it through?”

  Cora’s brow furrowed. Her voice hollow, she replied, “Go ahead.”

  Tension gripped her in the seconds it took for the click of the call to transfer over. Her heart skipped a beat. She knew who it was and she knew the moment would come. Still, she wasn’t ready for it.

  “Good morning, Cora,” Lucius said on the other end, his voice an unearthly baritone with a reverberating quality like an echo. “It’s been some time.”

  “Where are you, Lucius?”

  “Cutting right to the quick, I see,” he replied. He sounded disappointed.

  Cora stood up and paced, closing her eyes as she tried to find her center. “I know you well enough to know you’re nearby. How close?”

  “The cafe across the street,” he replied. “Join me for breakfast.”

  “I’ll be down in five,” she said, pressing the comm button to end the call.

  She covered the pieces of her Predator with a towel and got dressed. There wasn’t any sense bringing a weapon. She couldn’t kill him anymore than he could kill her. Pops’ vision of her future saw her kicking open the door to Lucius’ office in Berlin, flanked by Vincent and two other ravens, her body engulfed in a blue aura wafting off her like flames. When she wasn’t dwelling on the horror of her nightmares, that vision was the only thing on her mind. She only wished she knew how long it would be before that day came to pass.

  Cora wasn’t one for occasion, donning her tee shirt, jeans, and Richard’s bomber jacket. As she took the elevator down, she wondered what emotion she’d settle on. There was rage for the cruel choice of ending her father’s life or losing her mother back in D.C., arrogance for having bested his plans anyway, and the strangest of all - sadness. He was a beautiful, brilliant, majestic creature, but she couldn’t get to know him like that. He targeted her before she ever met him, for some entwined fate he believed in so strongly. The elevator chimed, stirring her from the rush of thoughts. Her boot heels clicked against the marble floor as she strode through the lobby to the cafe across the street.

  Bauer Securities soldiers did their best impression of G-men, flanking either side of the entrance in black suits and sunglasses. Their high and tight military cuts stuck out like a sore thumb among the citizens of Paris. She passed right between them without a thought and opened the door.

  A young French woman greeted her, dressed for business with a warm smile. Her body language read different, either as nervous, awestruck, or both. She lead Cora into the dining area, empty but for one table in the center of the room. Lucius, in a three-piece suit, sat with his hands folded on the knee of his gray slacks. His silver hair flowed straight down to the small of his back, eyes glowing orange like hot coals in a fire. Cora remembered that awe and fear the hostess showed. But after all he had put her through, after all she survived, any fear Cora had was left in Berlin.

  The dragon stood up as she approached, pulling out her seat for her. Cora nodded and took her seat, waiting for him to join her. His eyes never left hers, even as he requested fresh juice for the table. He let the silence hang until the girl disappeared for the kitchen.

  “I wondered if you’d see me,” Lucius said. He bowed his head to her. “I appreciate you coming.”

  Cora dropped her arm onto the table, rattling the silverware. She held her palm up. “Let me see your Arcadia.”

  Lucius scoffed. “What? Why?”

  “I’m going to nip this situation in the bud right now,” she replied. “Your Arcadia, please.”

  Confused, but intrigued, Lucius extended his arm until she grasped his wrist. She swiped out the main screen, looking for his contacts menu. His hand felt like a block of stone in hers, dense and powerful enough to crush every bone in her body. She may not have feared him, but she respected his strength. His contact list read like a NeuralNet search of all known world leaders and giants of industry. She created a new listing. With a few more presses on the screen that covered the back of his hand, she swiped it away and sat back in her chair.

  “There,” she said. “I gave you my direct number. I still have yours. No matter how ugly this gets between us, no matter what happens next, if you want to speak to me, you call and ask like a normal person. No using my friends and family against me, no threats. Just call, and I will come.”

  Lucius cocked his head to the side. His face twisted in confusion. She’d never seen him at such a loss for words. After some thought, he dropped his head and took a breath.

  “I...you really never cease to amaze me,” he said. “I could spend your entire life with you, and I don’t think I’d ever fully understand you.”

  “Yeah, I’m a woman of mystery,” she replied with a smirk. The smile left her face as fast as it came. “What am I doing here, Lucius?”

  The waitress came back with two glasses and a carafe of orange juice. Lucius smiled at her and said something in French, not among Cora’s five languages. The girl started writing on a pad. Cora guessed he was ordering for them. If it were just a date with some random guy, she would have been offended, but Lucius had exquisite taste. He’d never let her be served something he wasn’t absolutely certain she’d like, and he hadn’t been wrong yet. He turned back to her as the waitress took her leave.

  “Anyway. That is the question, isn’t it, Cora?” he said. “What are you doing here in Paris?”

  Cora put on a fake smile. “Sightseeing. You?”

  Lucius matched her fake smile with a knowing one. “Mine is more of a fact-finding mission. You’re in Paris following a rash of break-ins at nearby museums. I can only guess with the recent...event at Buckingham Palace, you’re here with the Pendragon.”

  “You’re the only dragon I’ve ever met, Lucius,” she replied, coy and innocent. “Although I did see Helen do a fly-over when I was at the Seattle airport once.”

  “Cora, let us speak plain,” Lucius started.

  Cora slammed her hands on the table, cutting Lucius off. “Plain? You want to speak plain? Sure, let’s do that. You gave me an ultimatum to end my father’s life through the lens of a sniper rifle pointed at my mother. You oversaw a conspiracy that killed my mentor. You kidnapped me, tied me to a chair, shot me, and then kept me drugged for over a week.”

  Lucius let a long breath exhale from his nose. He folded his hands in his lap and shook his head. “It’s true. I wouldn’t presume to insult you in saying I have regrets about it, but I do wish things could be different.”

  “Tell me why, Lucius,” Cora said, bringing her voice down. She cast the anger off of her, desperate to understand. “When I told you everything that happened in Heaven’s Crest, even about Pops’ vision of you and I in the future, you didn’t even blink. What is it about us you already know? What did I ever do to you that I deserve what you’ve put me through?”

  Cora watched his every movement, every twitch. He tried keeping his hands from view, but she saw them ball up and tense as she spoke. She was getting to him.

  “No, Cora,” he shook his head. “I can’t tell you anything. You have to find out for yourself. It’s the only way you’ll ever understand why we will be at odds until that day in your vision comes to pass. After that, who knows?”

  She took a breath and crossed her arms. “Lucius, I don’t hate you.”

  “What?”

  “I’ve tried. Even after everything you’ve done to me, to my friends, my people,” she replied, running her fingers through her black hair. She massaged the back of her head, trying to figure out where she was going with this. “I’ve never hated you. I wanted to kill you a few times, sure. You’re a jerk. But I spent every waking second in Heaven’s Crest trying to fight fate, and I never learn. I don’t want to hate you. Not now, not in the future. I want to change it.”

  The waitress stopped Lucius from replying as she arrived with two plates. She set down crepes, topped with a fruit compote. Cora
smiled and thanked the waitress. Serious conversation or not, she shook out her napkin and grabbed a fork. It was as pretty as it was delicious. She hadn’t eaten since waking at four, not realizing how ravenous she was until she tore into her breakfast. Lucius smiled, genuine appreciation on his face.

  “I’m glad you like it,” he said. He glanced sideways at the waitress’ departure. Lucius struggled to keep his smile from fading, his face souring as his tone fell grim. “It doesn’t matter what you or I want, Cora. Forces beyond our control set us at odds. We just play our part. In time, you will learn to hate me. Right now, you’re unwittingly getting in my way, crossing me without trying. Eventually, you will come after me with the same force I’ve had to show you.”

  Cora swallowed her food. “So, I get to tie you to a chair and shoot you in the stomach?”

  “Metaphorically, if not literally,” he replied. With a huff, he went on. “Back to business. What are you doing here?”

  “I answered that one.”

  “You shouldn’t trust the Pendragon. He’s a zealot, like every ancestor before him,” Lucius said. “They’ve turned hunting me down into their own private religion.”

  “What did you do to piss them off?” Cora asked with a mouthful of food.

  Lucius used a practiced, measured approach to eating. His every move purposeful, from the way he loaded his fork to the slow, methodical chew. He savored a bite and turned his attention back to Cora.

  “I had to play villain to his family once or twice, as well,” he replied. “It’s something I seem to be exceedingly good at, and I can be detestable at times, even to myself.”

  Cora smiled and leaned in. “Just do what I do. Drink all the self loathing away. It helps. When it doesn’t, that’s how you know you need more.”

  “Your knack for self-deprecation is only exceeded by your self-destructive coping mechanisms,” he replied. “Did you bring the whole support group? The father figure, the shapeshifter, and the hacker boy?”