Dagger

  “But what’s going on? Are you in any kind of trouble?”

  “Just do it, okay? For me? Please.”

  His eyes caressed my face. “I promise.”

  “I’m sorry I can’t explain right now, Marco. I just don’t want anything to happen to you.” I buried my face in his shoulder. “I couldn’t stand it.”

  “Nothing’s going to happen to either of us,” he whispered in my ear. “I’m here for you. Always.” He enfolded me in his arms, rocking gently.

  I lifted my head to face him. His golden hair shimmered in the candlelight, which brushed his smooth skin with dancing shadows.

  “Thanks.” I pressed my lips to his, intending just to give him a peck.

  Marco pulled me into him in a fathomless kiss. I was in shock. I wanted to pull away, but it felt so comforting, connecting with someone I cared about. Someone who cared for me, at a time when I felt so alone.

  In seconds, we were writhing on the bed, my weight covering him, our mouths trying to inhale each other. Marco practically ripped off my T-shirt, running his hands all over my chest. I pulled his tank-top over his head and tossed it across the room, my fingers tracing the ridges of his stomach. Lowering my head, I kissed a path from his lips to his neck, wanting to comfort him, the way he had me.

  I lost track of how long we thrashed about, but somewhere along the way we lost our shorts, leaving us both in our underwear, our bodies warm and slick.

  My mouth finally broke away from his. I was panting. “Do you have any protection?”

  He sighed. His hands gripped the muscles in my back and shoulders, urging me closer. “Dagger .I’ve never …

  My heart pummeled my rib cage. “Me neither.”

  “I want it to be with you.”

  A wave crashed through the hormonal haze engulfing my brain.

  This wasn’t fair to him. To either of us. Not when my life was shit. Not when I’d already put him in danger. Not when all I could think about was someone else.

  I rolled off him and sat on the edge of the bed.

  He moved up, hugging me from behind, his neck nuzzling my shoulder. “Did I do anything wrong?”

  “Of course not,” I whispered. “Let’s just hold each other, okay?” God, that sounded so Lifetime movie.

  “Dagger, I—”

  “Ssssh. Don’t say anything.” I pulled him down on the bed, cradled his head against my chest, and tangled my limbs with his. I stroked his hair, inhaling the fresh scent.

  In a few minutes, his breathing became rhythmic, his eyelids closed.

  It took me much longer to fall asleep.

  ****

  My eyes flew open. Even though sunlight streamed through the windows, a chill seeped into my pores. Marco was curled up beside me in a fetal position. Careful not to wake him, I rose from the bed and looked around. And that’s when I spotted a splash of crimson on the mirror facing the bed. It grew larger, glistening and thick, moving across the glass, bleeding out three letters.

  CRO

  Chapter Sixteen

  I was late to Delacroix’ class. I’d tried to get a better look at the bloody scrawl on the mirror, but it’d disappeared before I got close. Had it been Ginny? Some random, illiterate poltergeist? Getting dressed and slipping out just as Marco woke up, I dashed to my dorm to shower and change, and break-necked to first period. I took a deep breath and nudged open the door, producing a loud creak that knifed through Delacroix’ lecture. So much for slipping in unnoticed.

  She swiveled and raised an eyebrow. “Mr. Beaumont, glad you could join us.”

  “Sorry,” I muttered, shuffling past her. Better sarcasm than a write-up.

  My seat was taken.

  Alexei overflowed from my desk, long legs spread, hands behind his head. Moist lips curved into a smile.

  Then he winked at me.

  My feet must’ve gotten tangled in my shoelaces. I tripped, catching myself with one knee. My manbag wasn’t so lucky. It crashed to the floor, spilling my books, iPod, PDA, and high-tech DUST enhanced camouflage notebook everywhere. Shit.

  There was a smattering of chuckles, led by Max Zimmerman and Kara Drake.

  Alexei was at my side in a flash. “Are you okay?” He crouched, lending me a rock hard shoulder to lean on as he steadied me to my feet.

  Marco rushed forward. “He’s fine.” Then he busied himself with scooping up my belongings.

  I rubbed my throbbing knee cap. “I’ll survive.” My gaze connected with Alexei’s. Somehow, the pain dulled just a bit. “Thanks.”

  He stooped to help me gather some of my things. “Didn’t mean to take your seat,” he whispered. “Thought you were a no-show.” He held out a few of my books and smiled. “Nice to see you made it.”

  I smiled back. “Thanks.”

  “I’ll take those.” Marco ripped the books from Alexei’s hands and shoved them into my bag with the rest of my stuff. “I saved you a seat, Dag.” He gripped my bicep and led me away from Alexei to the vacant desk next to Cassie.

  Alexei chuckled and took his seat on Cassie’s other side. She turned and gave me a what-the-hell-is-going-on look. I just shrugged. There was enough teen angst in this room to fill an entire season of Gays of Our Lives.

  Delacroix clasped her hands. “I trust you were not seriously injured, Mr. Beaumont?”

  “No, Ma’am.”

  “Good. Now let’s see who can shed some light on the first attempts at colonization of the new world.”

  There was an uneasy shuffle throughout the room. Delacroix employed the Socratic method in class, much like a law school professor. Whoever’s name came up would be grilled for most of the period so they’d better have studied their shit.

  My shit hadn’t even been glanced at.

  Delacroix scanned the class roster lying on her podium. “How about—”

  I held my breath.

  “—Mr. Dimirov,”she finished. “Please enlighten us.”

  There was a collective release of breath. The entire class turned to watch Alexei in the hot seat.

  Marco’s hand brushed mine as he turned the page of my book to the right chapter. I really needed to have another talk with him soon.

  Alexei cleared his throat. “I believe the first true attempt at colonization occurred in 1587, when a group of settlers traveling from Britain settled off North Carolina’s coast.” His voice oozed confidence. It didn’t seem Delacroix’ tactics were going to be ruffling any feathers this morning. Good for him.

  “You are correct, Mr. Dimirov.” She moved from behind the podium. “Can you tell us where exactly this settlement occurred?”

  “Roanoke Island.”

  Roanoke? My heart revved up. What was it about that name? Something in the DUST archives.

  Delacroix paced the aisles, fingertips pressed together as if in prayer. “You wouldn’t be able to tell me who was in charge now, would you?”

  Alexei flashed his brilliant smile. “Sure thing. A dude called John White was the head honcho. His granddaughter was actually the first American born in the new world colony on Roanoke.”

  White’s granddaughter. I couldn’t shake the feeling there was something very significant about that fact. What was it?

  Alexei stretched a leg and rested it across the other. Damn. Who knew a history lesson could give you a hard on?

  Delacroix reached her podium and gripped the sides. “Any idea what happened then, Mr. Dimirov?”

  “Things were kind of tough in those days, what with the elements, limited supplies and all. About a week or two after White’s granddaughter was born, he sails off with a Portuguese sailor named Simon Fernandes back to England for more provisions. When they get there, they find themselves in the middle of a war with the Spaniards. White gets stuck there and doesn’t make it back to Roanoke for another three years.”

  Cassie grinned, squeezing Alexei’s shoulder. The pencil I’d been twiddling snapped in two, cutting through the momentary silence.

  Delacroix turned to m
e. “Why don’t you take it from here, Mr. Beaumont?”

  She may as well have turned a spotlight on me. Despite the weight of everyone’s eyes, I kept my cool. Felanie had rigged the camouflage notebook for me, for those rare occasions I wasn’t prepared for class due to a mission. All I had to do was use the optic stylus and write the topic on the notebook’s specially-treated pages. My request would upload to a server where a DUST medium would telekinetically inscribe the intel in the notebook.

  “You got it.” Using the transmission stylus which was shaped like an ordinary pen, I scribbled the name Roanoake into the notebook. Writing appeared in my binder, line after line, perfectly duplicating my own handwriting in case the Teach performed a surprise inspection. I raised my notebook cover just enough to block Marco’s view of the writing materializing on the page. Things between us were complicated enough.

  “Is there some kind of problem, Mr. Beaumont?”

  More chuckles. “No ma’am.” I glanced at my notes. Hmm. This was interesting. “Picking up where Alexei left off,” I stalled, “That’s where the story goes all Twilight Zoney.”

  “Do continue.”

  My eyes darted across the page then back to Delacroix. “After this White guy gets back to Roanoke Island in 1590, he finds it completely deserted.” I paused and scanned my audience. “I mean, we’re talking total ghost town. Personal belongings left in place, food on the table, no trace of people, zip.” I paused an anticipatory beat. “They’d all vanished without a trace.”

  The revelation quashed even the most embryonic of chuckles. I had their attention now. But why did I feel I was hanging ten on a wave named déjà-vu?

  “And then?” Delacroix shattered the silence.

  “And then,” my eyes stumbled on three glaring letters scrawled in the notes. What the hell?

  “Mr. Beaumont?”

  “The only clue White finds is a carving on a tree, three letters.” Okay. Officially creeped out now. “C. R.O. No one’s positive what it means.”

  A smile spread across Delacroix’ face. “Good work. You see? Who says that history can’t be intriguing? Any final thoughts from either Mr. Dimirov or Mr. Beaumont?”

  Alexei shook his head slowly. I could tell he remembered C R O from the Ouija board.

  I glanced at one particular name the uplink had scribbled in my notebook.

  Virginia Dare

  “Jesus.”

  “What was that, Mr. Beaumont?”

  This was friggin’ insane. Not only was the fate of Roanoke’s inhabitants eerily reminiscent of the power of Il Evanidus, but they seemed to share a common denominator.

  A little girl with long dark hair, draped in the trappings of long ago.

  “White’s granddaughter,” I said at last. “Her name was Virginia.”

  Ginny for short.

  ****

  When the dismissal bell finally rang an eternity later, I couldn’t bolt out of there fast enough.

  Screw second period and Espinosa’s biology lecture. I had to get to DUST. Maybe Felanie’d be able to shed some light as to why a member of the Lost Colony was stalking me. I maneuvered my way through the horde, pushing and shoving, indifferent to the glares and middle fingers. The door leading to the basement was just around the corner.

  “Dag. Wait up.”

  Shit. I froze in my tracks, bracing myself for the onslaught of Hurricane Cassie.

  She pirouetted to a stop in front of me, breathless. “Que carajo is going on with you and Marco?”

  Oh, geez. Not this. Not now. “It’s complicated.”

  “Complicated?” She did the hands-on-the-hips-head-bobbin’-thing. “You spend every friggin’ waking moment telling me you have to find a way to let Marco down easy, then he just tells me you two spent the night together last night. Sounds more like you were gettin’ down instead of lettin’ down. Que pasa aqui?”

  “Look, it’s not what you think. We just slept together.”

  She sucked in her cheeks.

  “I mean slept as in sleep. You know, natural periodic state of rest for the mind and body sorta deal? That’s it.”

  “Mmm, hmm. So you two weren’t practically naked, making out, and groping each other in bed?”

  “No. I mean yeah. But we didn’t have sex. We just kinda got carried away. I told him I want to take it slow.”

  “But do you really want to take it at all?”

  Now there’s a question that was cocked and loaded. “Maybe. I mean, he’s a great guy, good-looking, sweet, smart. Maybe he’s right. Maybe I just need to go with it and see where it leads.” Except Marco deserved a hell of a lot more than a bunch of Maybes.

  “If you hurt him, I’ll break your jaw myself.” She smirked, then threw her arms around me and squeezed. “This is sooo perfect. My two best friends getting together and me getting a man of my own.”

  My throat tightened. “Oh?” I unhooked her from me.

  “I think tonight, after the Autumn Fest, me and Alexei …” Her face flushed.

  Something inside me shorted. “Don’t you think you’re moving a little too fast? I mean, has he even hinted that’s what he wants?”

  Cassie gripped my arms. “Papi, what’s wrong? You’re not still, I mean, now that you and Marco are an item, I thought you’d be okay with—”

  I pecked her forehead. “I love you, Cass. I hope it works out for you.” And I did love her. But right now I needed like hell to get as far away from her as possible. “I gotta run. Catch ya later!”

  Without waiting for a response, I rounded the corner and disappeared through the doors, taking the basement steps two at a time. My heart was pounding. I needed something else to focus on, something to relieve the chaos ripping through me.

  Maybe a little digging into a four-year-old stalker visiting from the sixteen-century would do the trick.

  ****

  Price stood and activated the simulator. A hologram of Il Evanidus appeared, rotating three hundred and sixty degrees. It descended just above the conference table, where Felanie, Aristede, and I were seated. The book’s cover opened, and the pages flipped and rustled, revealing symbols highlighted in crimson, as if the pages bled.

  “Analysis has successfully used the decoding fluid Dagger recovered in Italy to decipher the cryptology in Il Evanidus,” Price announced. “The book reveals three distinct sets of coordinates, two of which exhibit extremely unique magnetic properties.”

  Several of the highlighted symbols flashed a couple of times and were replaced by longitudes and latitudes. The image of the book morphed into a global map displaying three triangular regions.

  “Tell me those aren’t what I think they are,” Aristede said.

  Price sat down. “They are. You are looking at the Bridgewater Triangle in Massachusetts, the Devil’s Triangle off the Florida Coast, and the Dragon’s Triangle in Japan. Three sets of triangles, all connected by Dighton Rock.”

  “An unholy trinity,” Felanie muttered.

  I studied the map, pointing to the second and third triangles. “The Devil and the Dragon. The same as Reinaldo’s birthmark, the Dark Reich insignia and the symbol on Il Evanidus.” Not to mention Ginny a.k.a Virginia’s locket.

  Felanie pointed to her head. “That sound you just heard? That’s the sound of a puzzle piece snapping into place.”

  My mind was marathoning. The vision I’d had after Phillipe’d injected me. The derelict graveyard on the island. A cosmic junkyard for all the craft that had disappeared in both the Devil and the Dragon’s Triangles. Those five planes half buried in the sand. At the time I thought there was something familiar about them, and now it all clicked.

  “Flight 19,” I whispered.

  Felanie narrowed her eyes. “Excuse me?”

  Aristede smiled at her. “I believe Dagger is referring to the infamous Flight 19, also known as the Lost Patrol, the five TBM Avengers that vanished in the Devil’s Triangle after taking off from Fort Lauderdale in nineteen forty-five.”

  It was
all coming back to me. “The Japanese government declared the Dragon’s Triangle a threat for shipping lanes in the nineteen-fifties. They chartered a research vessel to explore the area and find out what the hell was going on. That ship vanished without a trace, along with all thirty-one crew members.”

  Aristede nodded. “The Kaio Maru No. 5.”

  The same ship I’d seen laying on its side. “But this can’t be connected to Il Evanidus. The whole mysterious triangle disappearance thing is just a big nature fart.”

  Felanie started to giggle but a look from Price put an end to that real quick.

  “What I mean is that studies have shown that the ocean floor, in the Devil’s Triangle at least, is loaded with gas hydrates. If this gas is released in large pockets, due to seismic activity, let’s say, it can cause the ocean’s surface to become highly agitated, reducing buoyancy to nearly zero.”

  Felanie bounced in her chair, as if she were riding something or someone. “I get it. Ships float because they’re less dense than the water displaced by their hulls. But if the water surrounding them is suddenly a cesspool of gas, the ships aren’t less dense anymore—”

  “—and they plummet like bad stocks,” I finished for her. “This same gas can hover above the surface for a while and even rise into the atmosphere. So you can imagine what might happen if a plane flies through a cloud of natural gas. Hence, your missing ships and planes.” Top that, Mr. King of Trivia Aristede. When it came to gas, I wasn’t just talking out of my ass.

  Price tapped her console. Subtle, but effective. We all swiveled.

  “While Dagger’s flatulence theory has some basis in science and is quite engaging, it doesn’t address the fact that the Devil’s Triangle and the Dragon’s triangle are the only two places on the planet where the magnetic compass points toward true north, rather than magnetic north.”

  “You’re talking compass variation,” Aristede volunteered with a wink at me.

  “Exactly,” Price responded. “The amount of variation changes by as much as twenty degrees as one circumnavigates the earth. And it is these magnetic anomalies that contain the power of Il Evanidus and can be harnessed to create mass disappearances and the Age of the Sixth.”