Ghost Phoenix (26 page)

Samnee put on glasses to examine the bottle. “This is the proper prescription, yes.”

“Look at the pills inside,” Marshal said.

The doctor opened the bottle and spilled the pills into his palm. Richard watched Greta, hoping to catch the exact moment she knew that she was found out.

“These are not the medicines I prescribed,” Samnee said. “These are depressants! No wonder the Queen can't shake her melancholy.”

Fear, anger and a chilled smile appeared on Greta's face.

Richard grabbed her shoulder. “I know, Doctor. Greta's been filling a separate prescription for depressants and exchanging those pills for the Queen's medicine. The question is why.”

“You people don't deserve my devotion,” Greta said through clenched teeth.

“So who does?” Daz asked.

Greta knocked Richard's hand from her shoulder and rounded on him so fast that she struck him a glancing blow that sent him spinning. Where did she get that strength?

She ran to the open window, obviously intending to dive out.

He leapt and tackled her. They slammed into the wall just below the window. Wood splintered. He paid no attention, using all his strength to hold her from behind.

“You're as strong as I am,” he said.

“Do you think He would ask an ordinary mortal for help?” Greta snapped her head back, trying to hit his face but just missed his chin. She kicked and put more holes in the wall.

“You can't hold me!” she screamed.

“I can.” Marian stuck a ghostly hand into Greta and kept it there. The woman stopped struggling, her eyes wide in terror.

“That's for Rasputin dropping a mountain on me!”

Marian did…something. Greta went still, and Marian withdrew her arm.

“Did you kill her?” Richard said in a low whisper.

“No, I just gave her heart a massage. It should keep her out for a while.” Marian held her arm against her chest, as if shocked by what she'd just done. “Great-Aunt Eunice taught me how to do that, with animals. She said I had to practice in case it was the only way to save my life someday. I was going to do it to Rasputin, but he let loose the fireball before I could.” Marian's face was pale, her eyes wide.

“You did well, Marian Doyle,” the Queen said from her bed.

Marian only nodded. Richard rose, pulled her into his arms and held her tight.

Marshal picked up the unconscious Greta from the floor. Daz had already put handcuffs on Joanna.

“I had no idea what my sister was doing!” Joanna said.

“If that's true, you'll be free quickly,” Marshal said. “I have a place to hold her. ” He nodded at the Queen. “With your leave, Your Grace.”

“Of course, William.”

He carried the unconscious woman out of the room. Daz followed with Joanna in tow. Marshal would undoubtedly modify Greta's cell to hold someone with her strength.

Maybe he would drug her with the medicines she'd fed the Queen.

Richard looked at two men remaining in the room. “Doctor, Herald, if you could give us a moment?”

They obeyed without question and left.

He and Marian were alone with the Queen.

She sat straighter in her bed than even a few minutes ago.

“You gambled with my life, Richard, when you allied with the Phoenix Institute. You knew they were Edward's killers.”

Richard put his arm around Marian. “If I hadn't, we would instead be allied with the man responsible for poisoning you with psychiatric medication. We would have done exactly as Rasputin planned and walked into his trap.”

“Greta is one of his followers?”

“So her financial records made clear. It was she who obtained the other medications, then swapped them for the antibiotics the doctor originally prescribed. As you became weaker and he gave your more meds, she switched those to give you a higher dose and—”

“And the medications affected my brain, preventing me from accessing my healing ability.”

“Yes.”

“If you had followed my orders to bring him here at all costs, Rasputin may have eventually decided to kill me.”

“He certainly intended to control you,” Richard said.

She nodded. “It seems the wayward prince has grown into a capable king.”

He knelt next her bed. “I would never usurp your place, my Queen.”

She set her hand on his head. “I know. But you have earned one of your own. You wish changes. We will have to speak of them.” She removed her hand and looked past him. “Now, tell me about this one. She is quite fascinating.”

“Angelic,” he said.

The Queen smiled. “Just so.”

Epilogue

Marian trusted Richard. It was the only reason she was standing here, in this alien place, waiting for the arrival of his Queen. When he said she would be presented to the whole court, she pictured a room in the New Orleans home, not this vast room in the estate outside New Orleans. It appeared this was the Queen's regular home and she had only moved to her private residence to be closer to medical care.

Richard took her hand and leaned closer. “Are you going to sink through the floor, Angel?”

“That had occurred to me.” She looked around. The entire court stood in the Queen's reception hall. She'd expected ten, maybe twenty, people. Instead, there must be at least a hundred.

“Where's your Marshal?” William Marshal, for all that he was as old as the Queen, was far less imposing and much more friendly. He made her feel welcome.

“Marshal will be here when the Queen arrives.”

Around them, people were covertly—and not so covertly—studying them. She was safe in the background. She liked being in the background. It was disconcerting to be the center of attention.

“Is Marshal, um,
with
the Queen?” She had been dying to ask that one. It seemed like they were, especially the way Marshal clearly adored her, but the Queen's true feelings were buried deeper.

Richard raised his eyebrow. “Hmm…no one asks. In the end, it does not matter. He is the Queen's man.”

“Her servant?”

“More like her will, his actions or the seal to her matrix,” Richard answered.

“Bonded forever, then.”

“Yes.”

Marian resisted the urge to adjust her dress, and only the thought of everyone seeing that stopped her. The silk felt as if it would slide off her shoulder at any moment. Silk. So showy. She never thought she would long for the boring blouses and pencil skirts she wore at Doyle Antiquities.

But no one with Richard could ever hide. And she was done with that too.

Everyone was dressed in their best. Expensive tailored suits for the men, beautiful and inventive dresses for the women. The Queen loved a show, Richard had said.

Richard wore his elegance like a second skin. He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed it. She sighed happily. Around them, she heard the murmurs.

“You're mine. They should know that,” he said.

“Do you know them all well?”

“Some of them. Most aren't immortal, you know. They're from families that have psychic abilities who have served us through the years, as your family has. Some were equally in the dark about the Court as you,” Richard said. “I felt it was time to remove some of this mystery.”

“So are any of these court members hired muscle like me?” Daz returned with a champagne flute for each of them. Marian saluted him with her glass.

“None like you, my friend,” Richard said.

Daz shone in his new suit but his discomfort in the clothing was evident. And he knew it. “Damn, this is the most lily-white crowd I've ever been in. Does your Queen have something against us, um…non-Europeans?”

Richard's good humor faded. “She pulls the familiar around herself like a shield. Another point on where we disagreed previously. But she'll come around.”

“You think? My parents don't like change, and they're a lot younger than your Queen.” Daz pulled at the knot in his tie. “I never much liked my dress whites but at least they didn't have a tie.”

“You look perfect,” Marian said.

Daz kissed her cheek. Like a brother, she thought, glad that they were at this place. She adored him. She'd never had a brother. She wanted one.

“What's the latest on the search for Rasputin and his people?” she asked.

“Alec and Drake pulled all the strings they have to gain the help of various European law-enforcement agencies. We know Rasputin's pulled out of Idar-Oberstein but not where he went. Richard, did you and Beth get anything from Greta?”

“Some promising leads about his finances. If we can't catch him yet, we can hamper his ability to act. Wars have been won and lost because of the lack of funding,” Richard said. “He'll poke his head out when he's desperate enough, and then we'll be able to act.”

“He's still formidable,” Marian said.

“He lost this battle and his best chance to divide his enemies. We'll get him.”

“Amen.” Daz raised his glass of wine. “To past and future victories.”

“Agreed,” Richard said.

Daz looked around at the crowd eyeing them. “So, how long do I have to stand here on exhibit before she shows?”

“Until Eleanor of Aquitaine is ready and not before. She always did like to make an entrance.”

“Do you think she's serious about making you her formal heir?” Daz asked.

“We shall see,” Richard said. “I'm not sure I want to be her heir. I might be Americanized enough to want democracy. I'm more worried about whether she'll announce our new alliance with the Phoenix Institute. She can hold a grudge like no one else.”

“But Alec helped save your life,” Marian said.

“That might be enough to mitigate Edward's death, but it might not.” He put an arm around Marian. “In any case, I have no regrets.”

Daz shook his head. “In my experience, some commanding officers don't like the grunts on the ground making choices for them. Especially when that choice impacts their life.”

“She cannot take my angel from me. That's all the home I need.”

She sighed. Daz rolled his eyes at her. She stuck out her tongue at him and sipped her champagne before she giggled.

Her dream prince assured her that his Queen meant her no harm but she half wondered if Richard had asked Daz to be present as added protection.

But, no, she wasn't worried for herself. She was worried for Richard.

He chose what I wanted over his Queen and her court.

For someone used to being worshipped, like Eleanor of Aquitaine, taking second place to a mere mortal could be a nasty blow. Especially now that she was fully recovered.

“Peace, Angel,” he whispered in her ear. “I've found it, after so many years. And we'll have it after tonight, one way or another.”

She had peace on her end, at least. Her father had called. She'd poured out all her resentment and frustration about the family calling to him. He was going to step back for a while and leave her be. He was even going to run interference with his father for her.

After so many years, she finally understood why her mother had been so opposed to her using her phantom ability. It was a power but also a responsibility, as the comic-book saying went. She had only just begun to decide how to use it herself. But now she had some ideas, the first of which included rescue of people trapped underground due to earthquakes, floods or bombings.

She had time. Time to decide what she wanted to do with the rest of her life. And time with Richard.

A tall man dressed in a gray suit walked out from the far door of the hall. He carried a pole with a standard attached to the top and knocked it hard against the parquet floor to gather attention. She recognized him as one of the men who'd been in the Queen's bedroom when they'd captured Greta.

The man unhooked the bugle at his waist, set it to his lips and blew a long, sweet sound.

“You remember our herald, FitzHugh?” Richard whispered to her.

“I do. I just didn't think his title was so literal.”

The herald let the note die in the hall, hooked the trumpet back to his waist and cleared his throat.

“Lords and ladies, I present Eleanor, by grace of God, Queen of England, The Duchess of Normandy, Duchess of the Aquitaine and Countess of Anjou. Your Queen!”

Queen Eleanor entered from the back, forcing everyone in the middle of hall to line up in two neat rows and let her pass by. She walked, head held high, regal as ever.

She is Galadriel, Marian thought, and nearly smiled. There were some parallels. This Queen was also immortal, like Tolkien's elven princess, and just as beautiful, in the same ethereal way. As Eleanor passed them, never once looking to the side—did that bode ill or not?—Marian studied her.

The Queen's features were classically beautiful and could have been carved on an ancient Greek vase as a symbol of beauty. The dress of red and yellow silks layered over each other barely touched the floor, somehow giving the impression that Queen Eleanor floated on air rather than walked.

Richard had presence, but Eleanor of Aquitaine filled the entire room with her person, a force so palpable that Marian nearly went down on one knee, even though Eleanor wore no crown.

She didn't need one.

Marian understood now how she had married two kings, raised a brood of charismatic if dangerous sons, held on to her immortality since the twelfth century and created this shadow court for her people.

What had she seen? What had she done in the intervening years? Oh, dear Lord, Marian knew her father would give up years of his life to spend hours in Eleanor's presence, to hear these stories firsthand. She suspected he wasn't the only scholar who would feel that way.

“Whoa,” Daz breathed out.

The Queen walked up a few short steps and occupied the throne that awaited her at the top. Marshal, in a sharp gray suit, appeared from her right and held his Queen's fingers lightly while she settled onto the throne.

If the Queen seemed a thing of the fairy or fantasy realm, Marshal was a tree, strong and solid, centering them to this time and place. Her will, his deeds, Richard had said.

Marshal bent his knee before his Queen. Richard and the rest of the Court did the same, including her. Even Daz dipped awkwardly and bowed his head in respect.

Marshal rose, signaling that they could do so as well.

“Approach with your people, Prince Richard Plantagenet,” the Queen ordered.

Her voice was light but it carried the full length of the hall. Richard took Marian's arm. Marian held her head high and concentrated on not tripping over her own feet. Daz followed a step behind them.

Richard stopped at the bottom of the dais. “Your Grace.”

“It has been some time since you left my presence and this court, Richard.”

“This is so.” Richard nodded.

Marian felt like a flea caught between two suns. God knew what Daz felt like.

“You abandoned your duties here.”

“I did not see any point in staying when the Court so obviously didn't want my advice.”

Eleanor raised her eyebrows.

“You are saying we were in error,” the Queen continued.

“I believed my brother gave you bad advice. I wished for my Queen to hold my opinion in as high esteem as his.”

The Queen held up a hand. “That is understood.” She looked at the assemblage.

“We learned long ago that war is the worst pestilence and the bane of all mankind. Richard, by his actions in returning to us, has demonstrated he understands this as well.” Eleanor of Aquitaine cleared her throat.

“Long life can also alter our perceptions so they are not as keen as perhaps they could be. Queens are not infallible and they should not be inflexible.” She glanced at Marshal, and some unspoken communication passed between them. Marshal set his hand on the arm of the throne.

“Prince Edward was a loyal subject but unfortunately misled by his devotion to us. We see his younger brother has clearer sight.” She glided down the steps. “Welcome back to court, Richard Plantagenet, Prince of England. And welcome to your angel, Marian Amanda Doyle, and to your comrade in arms, Daz Montoya. We look forward to meeting your compatriots in the Phoenix Institute.”

She waved a hand at the Court. The room erupted into applause and then people settled into loud chatter.

Richard knelt before her and kissed her hand. Eleanor of Aquitaine smiled.

“I have always wanted to see a Prince Richard ruling a court.” She patted Richard's hand. “You are the direct descendent of my son, and you do your family and your court proud.”

“Direct? But Richard the Lionheart had no heirs,” Marian blurted out.

“That you know of.” Eleanor raised her voice again. “Do you all witness our approval?”

“Long live Prince Richard,” Marshal said.

The Court echoed Marshal's assent.

Richard held up a hand to still them. “There's a celebration planned in the next room. We will meet you there in a few moments.”

The herald led the Court out of the room and into the ballroom.

It left only her and Daz with Richard, Marshal and the Queen.

“You have chosen an interesting consort,” Eleanor said.

“I have chosen the right one.” Richard put his arm around Marian.

“You value her life and wishes more than mine?” the Queen asked. No, not the Queen. Eleanor, the mother, asked her foster son.

“You would not want your life bought by the blood of innocents, nor would you have interfered with a love so strong that not even fire and earth could defeat it.”

“Ah, Richard, you were always a lovely poet.” Eleanor smiled. “But you didn't answer my question.”

“As Marshal values your life above all, so I value Marian's life.”

Eleanor of Aquitaine laughed. “Very good, Richard.”

Marian blinked, near blinded by the radiance of that approval.

The Queen practically floated toward her.
Ack, she's coming straight at me.

Silly. She was walking. She was a person.

She was an immortal Queen whose charisma could melt icicles in the middle of Alaska. Marian wondered if that charisma was also a psychic ability.

“You do not look like an angel, Marian Amanda Doyle, in this guise. I would love to see a demonstration,” Eleanor said.

“Show her, my love,” Richard asked.

Did Richard have any idea how hard it was to concentrate with this woman staring at her this way? Fine—she wanted a demonstration, she would get a demonstration.