Sidney pushed herself up to a sitting position despite Ben’s protests. Blood still leaked from her nose, and her vision was clearly affected by the way she squinted, but her voice was sharp. “I’ve been through my grandmother’s journals multiple times. I never saw an entry about anchoring a phoenix.”
Lewis studied her for a moment, his gaze considering. “The 1978 entries. August, specifically. Did you read those?”
“I….” Sidney made a frustrated motion with one hand and then winced, as if even that small gesture had been enough to make her head ache. “I digitized the journals that dealt with recent portal activity and current threats. Shadow stalkers, dimensional barriers, electromagnetic anomalies from the last ten years. The older journals….” Her words faded away there, and Ben could see realization dawning in her worried, crystal-gray eyes. “I was doing triage. Focusing on what seemed immediately relevant.”
“Phoenix entries from almost fifty years ago wouldn’t have seemed urgent,” Lewis said, and he gave her an encouraging smile. “Not when you had shadow stalkers manifesting in your forest.”
“How did you even know about the phoenix anchoring?” Ben asked. “If Sidney hasn’t read those sections yet, and Emily Thompson was so secretive — ”
“She was secretive, yes, but she was also something of a scientist,” Lewis broke in. “Or at least, someone who’d trained herself like one, even if she didn’t have a diploma to prove it. In 1979, an anonymous paper appeared in the Journal of Cryptozoological Studies. It described phoenix rebirth mechanics in extraordinary detail, far too much detail to be purely theoretical. The author used the initials E.T.” He paused there to rummage through his papers, then pulled out a photocopied article. “The paper included recovery times, neurological symptoms, electromagnetic sensitivity changes. Those aren’t observations you can make from a distance.”
He set down another document, something that looked like medical records with most of the information redacted.
“I also track unusual medical cases near portal sites,” he went on. “Emily Thompson was admitted to St. Joseph’s Hospital in Eureka in August 1978 and was unconscious for sixty-three hours with no apparent cause. Normal vitals, but completely unresponsive. That admission occurred two days after reports of golden fire in the forest — an obvious phoenix sighting.”
“She published the findings but tried to keep her identity hidden,” Sidney said, her tone wondering. She reached up to rub her forehead and then continued. “And she documented her personal experience in the journals I haven’t finished reading yet.”
“I’m sure she was doing her best to prepare you,” Lewis said. “She knew that someday, another phoenix might need anchoring. She left the information where it could be found if you knew where to look, both in academic records for researchers like me and in her journals for you. I’m sure she didn’t expect that you’d need the information so soon.”
Sidney used the sleeve of her jacket to blot the blood under her nose. Somewhere along the way, she must have dropped the bandana Ben had given her. “How long do we have before the phoenix’s corruption becomes irreversible?”
“Based on what you’ve described? A day, maybe less.” Lewis gathered his papers and stuffed them back in his messenger bag, then slipped it over his shoulder as he stood. “After that, the corruption will spread to the portal itself. Everything your grandmother and mother fought to protect will collapse.”
Sidney’s hand crept into Ben’s. Her fingers were cold and shaking, but her grip was firmer than he’d expected.
“Then we have at most twenty-four hours to figure out how to do the impossible,” she said.
She shifted, and Ben could tell she was about to attempt to rise. Immediately, he slid his arm around her waist so he could help her to her feet. She swayed a little once she was fully upright, but at least she didn’t look as if she was about to topple over.
“We need to move,” Rebecca Morse said. She’d been quiet during Lewis’s revelations, probably understanding that this was information they needed if they wanted the phoenix to survive, but now her mind had obviously gone to their more immediate problems. “That drone crash will have triggered alarms.”
They made their way down the tower stairs, Lewis leading and Rebecca Morse bringing up the rear. Ben stayed close to Sidney, ready to catch her if she stumbled. He could tell that her vision problems were getting worse — she missed a step halfway down and probably would have fallen if he hadn’t grabbed her arm.
Once they reached ground level, Lewis looped the messenger bag containing all his research onto Ben’s free shoulder. “That’s everything I have on DAPI, phoenix biology, and Emily Thompson’s research. Use it wisely.”
“You’re not coming with us?” Sidney asked. Her tone was almost plaintive, as if she didn’t want to lose contact with someone who’d had a connection to her grandmother, no matter how tenuous.
“I’m a liability,” Lewis replied, his tone matter-of-fact. “DAPI’s agents know my face, and I’m not trained for tactical situations.” He paused there to open the door to his Jeep and climb inside. “But I’ll keep gathering intelligence. If I learn anything useful, I’ll find a way to contact you.” He started the engine, which had the deep rumble of something that had never heard of electronic fuel injection, and then leaned out the window, his gaze fixed on Sidney. “I’ve spent almost fifty years studying phoenixes and dimensional phenomena, and I’ve never seen anyone with abilities like yours. If anyone can bridge the gap between human and dimensional magic, it’s you. Your grandmother protected these secrets for decades — now it’s your turn to use them.”
Then he was gone, the Jeep growling and bouncing down the access road before it disappeared into the trees.
Rebecca Morse checked the chronometer strapped to her wrist. “We need to split up. I’ll create a diversion and draw DAPI’s attention south. You two get back to the facility and start preparing for the rebirth attempt.”
“What kind of diversion?” Ben asked, even though he knew it probably didn’t matter as long as it was effective.
“The kind that makes a lot of noise and triggers every sensor in a five-mile radius.” Her smile was sharp. “Don’t worry about me. I know how to disappear.”
Sidney caught her by the arm before she could leave. “Thank you. For everything you’re risking.”
“You can thank me when this is over, and we’re all still alive.” Rebecca patted Sidney’s shoulder. “And Sidney? Your grandmother was right about you.”
Then she was gone, too, her dark clothing allowing her to melt into the forest like smoke.
For a moment, the two of them stood in the clearing without speaking.
“I’ll drive,” Ben said then. Sidney was in no condition to drive, not with her pupils still uneven and her coordination obviously impaired.
She sent him a weak smile. “Good idea.”
