Rune Warrior

by Frank Morin

  “We weren’t supposed to leave for another month or two, but the king’s health has taken a turn for the worse.”

  “So he’s buying a transfer?”

  “Yeah, he’s been on the books for years.”

  “Who is he transferring to?”

  “One of his grandsons.”

  “And his grandson is okay with that?”

  Although Sarah had undergone hundreds of soul transfers, she had always done so with the understanding that the new body she wore would be temporary. It wasn’t until Mr. Fleischer threatened to sell her body permanently that she realized the true dangers of her position. The terror of possibly losing herself had made her desperate. When Tomas had shown her the truth behind the soul transfers, they had worked together to save Sarah’s body and rescue Eirene.

  “His grandson has been preparing for this for a long time,” Tomas said, a bit defensively.

  “But he’s sacrificing his life.”

  Sarah knew more about facetakers than almost any outsider, but it still shocked her to think of the awful price for prolonging someone’s life. Someone else had to sacrifice theirs instead. She doubted they found many situations like Walter’s recent transfer where the young person wanted to become old.

  Tomas glanced at her. “I know it seems strange, but it’s better this way. He’s not trying to take some stranger’s life. His grandson is willing to give his life for his grandfather. It’s the ultimate act of love.”

  “For him. For the grandfather, it’s total selfishness.”

  “That’s the other reason I didn’t tell you about it,” Tomas said. “I don’t think you’re ready to see this side of what we do.”

  “You’re right,” she said softly. “I’m not ready.”

  She felt a part of this group. Her relationship with Tomas was growing into something special. She loved Eirene and had learned to see past Gregorios’ often-grumpy front to the soft heart he tried to conceal underneath. She trusted them all, cared deeply for them, yet she struggled to accept some of what they did.

  How did she really fit in? She wasn’t a facetaker, an enforcer, or even a hunter. She was a mortal who’d gotten caught up in their world. She didn’t think she could return to the ignorance enjoyed by the rest of the world, but where did that leave her?

  Tomas turned to meet her gaze while stopped at a red light, his expression intent. “Do you think I’m evil?”

  Sarah sighed. “Of course not. I know you. It’s just…”

  “It’s just life isn’t fair,” he completed for her.

  “Something like that.”

  “We won’t be gone long,” he said. “When I get back, maybe we can get away for a weekend and visit the coast.”

  “I’d like that.”

  The crazy events of recent weeks had prevented them from finding more than scattered moments together. One of her original motivations for joining Tomas on vacation had been to explore the potential for their relationship. That had been before she knew he was an enforcer, before she knew anything about heka, before Mai Luan had tried to kill them all.

  Before she knew he usually wore a gorgeous young body or that his first life had been a long time ago.

  They were still trying to decide what they wanted out of their relationship. Beneath his tough enforcer exterior he was a good man who still clung to values that had gone out of style generations ago. She found all of that appealing and worth exploring. A romantic weekend away might give them the opportunity to figure it out.

  Quentin’s huge mansion was situated outside of the city, set on a sprawling estate, surrounded by several outbuildings. Two huge, square towers flanked the main entry, and everything was yellow stucco or rough-hewn stone. Ivy crept up one wall, adding a splash of green to the Mediterranean style. Red brick tile led up the circular driveway and under the covered entrance.

  Quentin had hosted Sarah there since she’d sought refuge with the critically wounded Tomas. He’d insisted she remain as his guest ever since. She loved the beautiful estate, and loved shooting Quentin’s big guns on his private shooting range behind the house.

  After they parked, Tomas kissed her. “I’ll see you when I get back, then.”

  “You don’t leave yet,” she protested, taking his hand and leading the way toward his room on the third floor of the east wing. It was a spacious suite, but barely looked lived in. She followed him inside, driven by the desire to feel closer to him. That nightmarish memory journey with John had left her rattled.

  “You never take me to your apartment in the city,” Sarah said as Tomas packed a few belongings.

  “No reason to,” he said. “It’s not nearly as nice as this and it’s pretty messy.”

  “It’s yours,” she said, taking his hands and pulling him closer. “It’d let me see the other part of you. The part that’s not an enforcer.”

  “I am what I am,” Tomas said, taking her in his arms. “I have been for a long time.”

  “How long?” She let him kiss her lightly on the lips, but didn’t let go. “I’d really like to know.”

  “Now’s not really the best time.” He tried to break away, to retreat like he always did when she asked about his past, but she kept her arms wrapped around his waist.

  “You’re leaving me again,” she said. “Give me something before you go.”

  He sighed and drew her to a comfortable leather couch in the sitting room. “I had hoped to find a quieter time to talk about this with you.”

  “No,” Sarah chided, “you were avoiding it.”

  “Maybe.” He looked deep into her eyes and for once didn’t shield the depth of his feeling. “I was worried I might lose you.”

  Sarah slid one hand down his cheek. “Tomas, I’m still here despite everything else I’ve seen in the past few weeks. I know you’re older than me. I haven’t run yet. So just tell me. I want to know the man I love.”

  Tomas took her hands in his. He sighed, then his voice slipped into the British accent he’d used occasionally. “I was born Tomas Hanover, son of King George III of England on April 25, 1776.”

  “Whoa!” Sarah blinked a couple of times as she digested that. “You were actually born the year they signed the Declaration of Independence?”

  Tomas grimaced. “That was a hard time for us.”

  “But that means you’re British royalty!”

  He shrugged. “The world never even knew I existed.”

  “How is that possible?” Sarah was having trouble picturing Tomas as a little prince, dressed in a frilly costume. “Everyone pays so much attention to everything the royals do.”

  “It’s quite silly, really. But back then there was no television, no paparazzi with cameras flashing. The world only knew that my mother was pregnant. My twin sister was presented to the world and I was hidden.”

  Given the upcoming Thailand mission, she realized what that meant, and squeezed his hands. “Oh, Tomas, I’m so sorry.”

  “It made sense,” Tomas said with remarkable calm. “They could show the world a child and conceal a healthy baby boy at the same time.”

  If her parents had planned to steal her body, she would definitely have had issues. “How did you escape?”

  “I didn’t. Actually I thought it was a great honor.”

  Sarah leaned against him as he talked, trying to imagine the cold world he must have grown up in.

  “I was raised through childhood, taught that this was the purpose of my life, that I was the most special person in the world because I could sacrifice my body for the king. What subject wouldn’t want that honor?”

  “Oh, Tomas.” Sarah wasn’t sure what else to say. “What happened?”

  “Two things. When I was fourteen, I visited with my father. We took a carriage ride together while he examined me and checked on my progress. We were attacked by an enhanced Englishman named John Frith in an attempted assassination.”

  “Were you hurt?”

  “No. I stopped him.”

  �
�How? You were just a boy.”

  “I was fourteen,” Tomas said. “I had undergone extensive physical and military training in preparation for my future role. That was my first real combat, and it happened too fast to think about it. But it was him or me, and even back then I understood those terms.”

  “So he was heka?”

  “Actually, no. He was turned by the hunters, who sent him to remove the hated facetaker patron and me, the abominable transfer vehicle.”

  Sarah sat back to digest the incredible story.

  “The facetaker historians wrote out that bit of history,” Tomas said. “Now if you look up John Frith, you’ll read that he was a mentally disturbed man who threw a rock at the king’s carriage.”

  “That’s it?”

  “It works. It was the first time my involvement with history was tampered with.”

  “So how did you escape?”

  “I ended up not needing to. The second event that altered the course of my life was that my father, who was originally King George the First and who was on his third life already, couldn’t handle another transfer. He suffered advanced mental dissipation and died an old man at the end of that life. The facetakers already knew they couldn’t transfer his soul again, and my defeat of the enhanced assassin had caught their attention. Since they didn’t need me as a transfer vehicle, they arranged to take me on as an enforcer.”

  “Just like that? You never got a chance to just be a kid, to enjoy life?”

  “It was a good life and I was very good at it,” Tomas said. “I was unknown to the world, but I knew how to move through the upper ranks of society. That proved very useful.”

  “How?”

  Tomas took her face in his hands. “We can talk about it more later. All that matters now is that I have you and I’m happy.”

  Sarah smiled. Getting that secret out was a good start. He hadn’t ever been so open. “So should I call you, Your Majesty?” she teased.

  Tomas grimaced. “No, love. I left all that behind. In fact, for a while I took the name Tommy Atkins. Harald, the facetaker in charge of mucking with history, slipped my name into the British military manuals. For a long time, my name became the default nickname for any British soldier.”

  “I’ve never heard of that.”

  “Look it up,” he said with a wry grin. “You can find tons of references to Tommy Atkins or Tommy as generic references to any soldier.”

  “So you became the universal soldier?”

  “Something like that.”

  He wrapped her in his arms and kissed her soundly on the lips. Sarah eagerly kissed him back. Knowing his age didn’t bother her. Knowing the truth eased her lingering worries that he was holding back some darker secret.

  The kiss deepened and Sarah lost herself in it. She had wanted to kiss him like this for a while. Her pulse quickened. Tomas responded and kissed her harder, with a hunger she had never felt before.

  About time.

  Sarah slid back on the couch, drawing him down with her. It was time to show him his hesitation had been unnecessary. When she started tugging at his shirt, he surprised her by sitting up and shaking his head.

  “Let’s not take this too fast, Sarah.”

  “It’s not too fast. We’ve been dating for weeks,” she protested. “You said you love me.” She touched his face. “And I love you.”

  She saw the hunger in his eyes, had felt the passion in his kiss.

  “I know,” he said. “It’s just, this is not right.”

  Sarah sat up, trying to hide how hurt she felt. Had she done something wrong, mis-read his feelings? “Tell me what’s wrong, Tomas.”

  Tomas caressed her cheek. “I want to spend this life with you, Sarah, but I come from an older generation where we held to different morals.”

  “You’re serious?” It wasn’t like either of them were virgins. They loved each other, so she felt confused he’d find an excuse to still hold back.

  He read her thoughts. “Sarah, these days people don’t think twice before jumping into bed together.”

  “We’ve thought twice ten times over,” she protested.

  “You drive me crazy like no woman I’ve ever known,” he admitted.

  Sarah kissed him again, felt his passion, but also his resistance. He wasn’t making this up. He really believed that becoming intimate was wrong. The gap between his moral code and what she’d grown accustomed to was startling. She sat back, took his hand in hers and massaged the back of it. That seemed to help him relax.

  “Didn’t Gregorios say to choose your morals in each lifetime?” she asked.

  “He did,” Tomas agreed. “And he said some morals span the ages. This is one. I’m sorry you’re disappointed, but give me more time.”

  “That’s all I’m giving you, it seems.”

  Sarah didn’t try to hide her frustration. She yearned for that physical contact. Amid all the chaos they were living, she wanted him to be her point of strength, the constant in her storm. That he could hold to such a position, despite clearly wanting her only made her want to be with him more.

  Alter wouldn’t have hesitated.

  Sarah drove the thought away immediately, shocked that she’d thought it at all. She loved Tomas, not Alter. It didn’t matter how badly Alter wanted her. She needed an anchor point in her life, but she needed it to be Tomas. She sighed. This was going to take more patience and self-control than she’d expected.

  Tomas stood. “I may be old-fashioned Sarah, but it doesn’t mean we can’t have a good time together. When I get back from Thailand, I’ll show you.”

  “You’d better.” She was willing to give him time, but she needed to figure out her role in his life, and how she fit into the broader world, which was far more dangerous than she’d ever known.

  He drew her to her feet and kissed her tenderly one more time. His kisses were very good. Part of her loved him more for his integrity, but she wished holding to strong morals wasn’t so inconvenient.

  “Are you all right with this?” he asked.

  Sarah leaned against him and nuzzled his neck. “I’m trying to be. But I’ll hold you to your promise.”

  “Deal.”

  After he left, Sarah felt an overwhelming urge to blow something up.

  She went looking for Quentin.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The rumors are true, and worse than true, I fear. Indeed, only one of our brothers assigned to the Templar camp in France escaped alive. Scores of Templars have been captured, tortured, and slain, and the entire order is under threat of extinction. The world has gone mad. Who else could have orchestrated such depravity and so twisted the mind of King Philip but Shahrokh, who has long hated our sponsorship of the Templars?

  ~ Abraham, master of arms, hunter squad, London, 1307, regarding the Friday the 13th capture and murder of the Knights Templar in France.

  Quentin was still at Suntara, so Sarah swam laps for an hour in the Olympic-sized swimming pool nestled between the sweeping wings at the back of the mansion. After changing, she moved to the training room and beat on a punching bag, working through the forms Tomas and Alter had taught her, increasing her tempo until she moved in a blur.

  She’d always kept herself in good shape, but the heavy training regimen over the past few weeks had toned her to peak fitness. Even better her rune, although temporary, vastly increased her strength, speed, and stamina.

  As Sarah moved around the heavy bag, she imagined it wore the face of Rosetta, the heka she’d let get away. That had been her chance to prove herself, and she’d failed.

  Alter’s voice from the doorway startled her. “You’re going to break that punching bag if you keep that up much longer.”

  “I’ve broken a few in my day,” he added as he advanced into the room.

  The heavy punching bag was a custom model, weighing over five hundred pounds. Lighter bags couldn’t take their enhanced blows, but she hadn’t imagined she could burst the reinforced canvas.

  “
Well maybe I should use you as my punching dummy,” Sarah joked.

  Alter grinned. “Sure.”

  He set down a leather satchel, then stripped off his shirt. Sarah had to admit she loved seeing him bare-chested. He wasn’t as heavily muscled as Tomas, but he was perfectly toned, every muscle sculpted. He possessed perhaps the most perfect set of abs she’d ever seen. The beautifully-crafted enhancement runes scattered across his torso and arms looked like custom tattoos and added an exotic flair to his sculpted good looks that she found particularly attractive.

  Sarah sighed, wishing Tomas was the one standing shirtless before her. Alter was a little too eager, a little too obvious about his pleasure that Tomas would be out of town for a few days.

  Even punching him in the face repeatedly didn’t seem to dull his enthusiasm.

  The two of them sparred back and forth across the room for half an hour, and she lost herself in the fast-moving contest. Alter always encouraged her to strike hard and not hold back, so she threw herself into the contest without her usual restraint.

  At first he looked surprised, then grinned and matched her increased intensity and tempo until they were striking with enough force to really hurt each other if one of them missed a block. It was scary and exhilarating at the same time, and she vowed to beat him for once.

  She failed.

  His fist slipped past her blocking arm and slammed into her jaw like a freight train. She saw stars, and the room spun around her as she toppled to the floor.

  Sarah rolled with the impact, imagining she was fighting Mai Luan, who wouldn’t wait for her to recover. She returned to her feet to face Alter, fists up, swaying a little as she fought to center herself again.

  “Good recovery,” Alter said, backing away and gesturing toward a nearby bench.

  “Nice hit,” she said as she dropped onto the bench and reached for her water bottle. “I should have had that one.”

  “That’s the best you’ve ever fought,” Alter said. “Don’t beat yourself up about it.”

  She chuckled. “I’ve been beat up enough, thank you.”