Ghost Phoenix (13 page)

The monks engaged in battle with Richard and Daz halted in mid-fight. They dropped their daggers. The metal clattered to the floor, making more noise than the fighting had.

Richard grabbed one of the transfixed monks from behind and knocked him on the head. The monk slumped in his arms. He struck another in the side, knocking him over, and grabbed him. The remaining monks left stared at her for a second, turned around and fled.

She descended to the floor, still holding her phantom state. The eyes of the monk Richard held captive were wide in fear and terror.

“Follow me!” Richard ordered.

She took another deep breath, became solid and ran with them down a passageway opposite the way they had come. Richard carried the monk easily over his shoulder. Surfing must build serious muscles, she thought.

Daz glanced behind them. “Dammit, we should stay and talk to the police. We were the ones who were attacked.”

“And if the monks claim the opposite, that we were the aggressors?” Richard asked.

“That place has video covering it. They'll know the monks are lying,” Daz answered.

“If the monks didn't disable the video, the authorities will note the appearance of a ghost. Do you want to explain that?”

“I don't,” Marian gasped out.

They dashed around a corner. The small hallway led out to the open grounds.

“Hell, Prince, they'll spot us out there,” Daz said.

“We're not going out there,” Richard said.

“Then we wait for the cops?”

“Not until we talk to our friend, the monk,” Richard answered.

“And where the hell do we do that?”

“Elsewhere.”

“Elsewhere?” Marian said. “Where the heck is elsewhere?”

On reflection, she agreed with Daz. Running from authorities was, in her experience, a bad thing. And now she was doing it for the second time in three days.

Richard patted the wall just above his hand. “Here. On the other side is a passage. Go through and you should be able to let us in, Angel. Quickly!”

Do first, argue later. She was used to that. Too used to it. But she obeyed and walked through the wall.

There was a chamber on the other side, as Richard had claimed. She clicked on her LED light. The door was metal on this side, with a wheel mechanism that opened the steel bars on the top and bottom.

“I hope this opens easily,” she muttered. She set her now-solid hands on the wheel and turned.

The steel bars creaked but slid open with only a small effort. Now she just had to pull open the door. She wrapped her hands around the wheel and pulled. The damn door didn't move.

She stuck her head through the wall. “It's unlocked but stuck! You need to push it open from that side.”

“Go back in and step away,” Richard ordered.

She slipped back into darkness and flattened herself against the side wall. She shone her light above. Cobwebs. Spiders, she could handle. But who knew what else lurked in this place?

The door swung inward, and Richard rushed through, carrying the now-moaning monk. Daz stumbled in behind them. Richard slammed the door shut and locked it with one hand.

Wow, surfing must
really
build serious muscles.

With one last metallic click, they were in near-darkness. On the run from the authorities. With a crazed monk.

“I believe in the curse now,” she said.

“Me too,” Daz said.

“We certainly have enemies. No curses needed for that. Daz, more light please.”

Daz added his flashlight to hers, chasing away some of the gloom. Richard set the monk at the base of the wall.

She and Daz focused their lights on him.

“What is this place?” she asked.

“Forget this place. Let's back up because I'm still stuck on murderous monks and a woman who turns into a ghost. What the hell, Marian?”

Oh. She'd forgotten in the confusion that Daz didn't know.

“It's a psychic ability, like your firestarter's power,” she said.

“Like hell it is! Alec doesn't turn into a freakin' phantom! I nearly had a heart attack when you disappeared into the floor.”

“There wasn't time to tell you what I was going to do. We were in the middle of an attack.”

“You weren't being attacked on the plane ride over. Or on the drive to see the Russian Elvis. Or last night in the hotel. Or on the ride here. You lied to me.”

“I didn't lie. I just didn't tell you. What did you expect? You practically kidnapped me the day we met. Why should I trust you with the family secret?”

“You trusted him with it.” Daz pointed at Richard, who was kneeling at the captive monk's side.

“Richard already knew. His court were my ancestors' patrons. They helped found Doyle Antiquities.”

“Wait, you're a whole family of ghosts?”

“No, just me right now.” No, she shouldn't have said that. She was babbling again.

“Will you two stop and instead help me talk to this monk?” Richard cut in. “He's muttering in Russian. I'm lousy at Russian. Angel, I need your assistance.”

She leaned down next to Richard, balancing by gripping his shoulder.

“Why did you attack us?” she asked the monk in Russian.

“Why do you disturb my saint's peace, devil ghost?” the monk whispered. “Go back to Hell.”

Devil ghost? She'd asked for that one, hadn't she?

“I only seek your saint for help, not harm.”

“No, as foretold, you are the devil! You are upon us! You will destroy my soul in fire! No, I will not give in to you, foul thing. Saint Rasputin, save me.”

“Did he just say Rasputin?” Daz asked.

“Yes, he did.” She had assumed all along they were looking for the corpse of the man, but he appeared to definitely have an heir of some sort who commanded living influence.

A Rasputin heir protecting the legacy would certainly explain a curse.

“I only wish to find Saint Rasputin to heal me. I need your help,” she said to the monk. “Please, I must have his blessing.”

“No! Unclean devil! The coming of the demon fire has been foreseen. The saint has been warned and is taking precautions to prevent his soul from being destroyed in fire. You may take me, but you will perish in your own fire!”

“He terms you devil, yes?” Richard asked.

“First I'm an angel and now I'm the devil. Lovely,” she muttered under her breath. “He said something about souls being destroyed in fire. He's terrified, says it's foreseen the demon fire will pose danger to his saint.” She translated everything the monk had said to her for them, realizing only then that the monk had said the “saint” was taking precautions. Implying Rasputin himself, not an heir.

“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?”