by Zoe Forward
Kane didn’t register anything further coming from Ashor’s mouth. Him not Astrid’s man? Astrid with someone else? Kane gripped the armrest of his chair so hard that his fingers dug through the cover. Blood roared in his ears. His chest screwed down tight until the pressure was so painful that he panted. Thoughts of her with another magus tortured his brain. She was pregnant by another guy. The one who got himself killed. She’d willingly been with that other guy after he’d told her, or at least tried to tell her, how he felt. She didn’t feel it for him.
Ashor clapped loudly in front of his face.
Kane’s gaze snapped up to Ashor. “What?”
Ashor chuckled and shook his head. He sauntered to the side bar where he poured a full tumbler of brown liquid. “Drink,” he ordered.
Kane accepted the glass and sniffed. “What is it?”
“Expensive Scotch. Exquisite. Perhaps potent enough to help you relax.”
Kane downed the glass in a few gulps and waited a few seconds. “I don’t feel anything.”
Ashor scowled. “You just sucked down about a thousand bucks. This is the take-your-time-and-savor liquor.”
“I’m a beer man. Are we done here?”
Ashor handed him an oversized worn leather-bound book. “Read this. Memorize it. Then return it to me.” He leaned forward. “Do not allow it to get lost or damaged.”
“Why must I read this?”
“The Thutmose Treatise reiterates the rules and has important notations from many that have gone before us. Commit it to memory. This is not optional reading.” He pointed at Kane. “Keep your shit together. Don’t get on my list.”
“Is that the final rule?” Kane asked as he pushed to a stand with the book under one arm.
Ashor murmured, “Smart ass.” He waved Kane away. “Go.”
Kane’s feet walked toward the kitchen, but his brain obsessed over Astrid’s preference for another man, not him. Fury exploded. He couldn’t be around her in this state. He’d say something he’d regret later. Perhaps a few miles on the treadmill would calm him.
Chapter Sixteen
I have to live off this shit for nine months? Astrid thought while taking another sip of sparkling water. She’d never been a fan, but craved bubbly drinks. When she’d sipped almost half a bottle over a very long twenty minutes, she knew Kane wasn’t coming. Damn it.
She was tempted to disregard pregnancy food specifications and break open a beer.
“Kinda sad to drink alone,” a male voice boomed behind her.
Astrid’s gaze shot upward from the green plastic bottle. Markus. The pit of her stomach dropped with disappointment. He might be Kane’s twin, but other than superficial similarity, they were nothing alike. Kane would never wear a shirt that wrinkled, nor allow his hair to become overgrown and messy, although she admitted the hair worked for Markus.
Markus strolled to the fridge and gazed into the open door. He finally settled on a cheap American brew and twisted off the top. One deep swig and he announced, “Damn, that’s amazing. I bet they have this stuff flown in. I don’t think you can get this in Mexico.” He slid into the chair across from hers. “Soooo, Astrid. What’s up?” His carefree smile made her want to kick him in the balls just to hear him scream. What exactly did he know about where she and Kane stood? Not that she knew the exact answer on that herself.
She shrugged. Getting stood up by your bastard brother has put me in a pisser of a mood.
“Yeah, I ain’t got much going on either.” He took another swig of beer, swirled it in his mouth like it was top notch wine, and then swallowed. “I’ve been trying to get some business going down here, but Mexico is not a good country for my work. Too much drama and too many guns.”
Astrid cocked an eyebrow. “Illegal art dealings.”
“I wouldn’t call them illegal. I simply help people sell stuff privately.” He slouched in the chair.
“Why are you here? I mean, down here in Mexico with us?” Astrid asked.
“It’s become a little hot for me in the States. I almost got kidnapped by Hashishins about five times in the past few months before they did get me a few weeks ago. Then you helped facilitate my escape. I think the Hashishins alerted the FBI to my dealings. So, I’m going to lie low for a while.”
Astrid nodded and stared at the rising bubbles in her plastic bottle.
Marcus cleared his throat. “So, what’s up with you and Kane. I used to understand you two. You work together twenty-four, seven. Now…well, now, it’s like he’s avoiding everything that has to do with you. He’s all prickly, and not just about you, but everything. He’s my bro, but he’s unhinged. This is Kane I’m talking about. Mr. Supercool.”
“They made him a magus, too. So I’m sure that’s what he’s struggling with.”
“I know.” Markus frowned. “I hate that part. But he’s been a soldier forever. This is just a different gig for him.”
“Did he say anything about you and all this? Your future and getting involved?” Astrid glanced up, meeting a clear blue gaze identical to Kane’s. Her chest cramped tight with a stupid wish it was Kane sitting across the table.
Markus’s happy-go-lucky demeanor disappeared. He leaned forward. “What do you mean by that? Like them making me a contract agent?”
Astrid sucked air through her teeth. Oops. “I didn’t think it was a secret that you’re destined to be one of us now too. A magus. Kane negotiated you in. The crazy guy stood up to the head honcho god and swore he wouldn’t do this without you.”
“Shit.” The word whooshed out in a long exhale. He mumbled, “This isn’t my ideal career change. I haven’t seen what rips these guys to shreds, what they fight, but I’m pretty sure that’s not my thing.” He downed his entire beer in one long swallow, shot upward, and retrieved another from the fridge. He fell back into his chair and sipped at the fresh beer.
Astrid snorted. “I didn’t volunteer for this.”
Markus relaxed into the chair. He grinned as if he’d already moved beyond that bomb. “So, Astrid, what’s got you sitting alone in a kitchen drinking?” He squinted at the fizzy water. “What are you drinking?”
Astrid held up the bubbly water whose fizz was already waning. “I’m not drinking alone.”
Markus chuckled. “You always struck me as a beer girl. You in here have anything to do with my brother losing his mind?” Markus leaned in. “You two finally jump in the sack?”
“No. He’s pissed because I’m pregnant.”
Markus paled. “Did Kane and you…and now you’re—?”
“No. That’s why he’s pissed. Well, that and the fact I just saved his ass from a daemon, which he perceives as me taking an unacceptable risk.”
Markus cocked his head. “Kane is pissed because he’s not the father? I’d think he’d be relieved. Oh shit, that came out wrong. I’m happy for you and all. It’s just that I wouldn’t be ready for instant fatherhood, and I can’t imagine him…” Markus trailed off and finally added, “I don’t get it.”
This wasn’t Markus’s business, but for some reason she liked him. Always had. Based on Kane’s stories he might be a chaos magnet, but he did always come out on the right end of his fiascos, and he inherited his brother’s rescue-everyone-else-at-all-costs mantra. Plus, she needed to spill to someone or she was going to lose her mind. “You know how Kira and Ashor were destined to be together? That they were chosen by the gods and fated for all time?”
Markus’s eyes widened. “Yeah.”
“Well, I’m pretty sure Kane and I are like that.”
“No fucking way. That’s…” Markus grinned. “That’s actually pretty cool. I’ve always thought he might finally get it right and ask you out. I mean, you’re wicked hot, and it’s just icing on the cake that you can kick his ass. He’d probably never admit it, but you’ve had him wrapped around your pinky for years.”
Astrid cracked a small smile. “I’m just good at getting my way with him. But now there’s the pregnancy issue.”
<
br /> Markus toasted his beer glass her way. “Gotcha. Yeah, if he’s not the father then he might see that as a cheating sort of issue, which is a clear line in the sand for him.”
“Yep. Let me toss a real head fuck into this mix. I’m not entirely certain on this, but I think the father might be a previous magus incarnation of Kane who lived thousands of years ago. And is now dead. Again, not sure on that. Might be wishful thinking on my part.”
“You time traveled and found a prehistoric Kane-like guy? Then you got it on with a Neanderthal?”
“He was really hot, not a Neanderthal.”
Markus laughed. “Kane is jealous of a guy who might be a previous life self? And even if it’s not a previous life self, then the guy doesn’t even exist in our time and is dead. That is whacked. I agree on the mindfuck part of that.”
Astrid sighed and nodded.
Markus shifted the longneck, pretending to read the label. “Kane’s had a thing for you for years. You’re probably right that he’s screwed up over you doing anything with another guy and then putting yourself in danger while pregnant.” Markus reached for her hand and squeezed. Softly he added, “He’d be a stupid ass, if he doesn’t come around and see that the woman he’s nuts about loves him, too.”
Astrid pulled her hand from his. Her face burned. She pushed her chair back from the table. “If you can keep this conversation between us, I’d appreciate it.”
“Sure.” Markus reclined back in the chair and loosely crossed his legs.
“So you need something to do?” she asked.
“Got a job for me?”
“How would you like to join my daemon-fighting team?”
Markus slowly put his beer on the table. “You want me to pick up one of those ridiculous swords and fight?”
“No. I want you to be a part of the team. Only a magus can take down one of those things or use one of those swords. Ashor said I could use Nate and Kane, but right now it looks like Kane is a no. I’m not sure Nate would respect me enough to do this. You have skills, though.”
“What skills do you think I have that would be useful for a daemon-fighting unit?”
“I heard you’re talented at getting out of sticky situations.”
Markus’s lips transformed into a cocky grin. “Yeah. That is a forte of mine.”
“I could use that.”
Markus’s grin disappeared. “Humans I can handle. Supernatural fucks, that’s your department.”
Astrid clinked her almost empty green bottle with his brown one. “It’s a deal. You get to deal with humans only. And sticky situations.”
“Kane won’t like this.” Markus gulped the rest of his beer.
“Even better.” Astrid grinned. Determination clinked into place in her mind. She was a pro at building elite fighting teams, often utilizing the men no one else could deal with. Her talent was knowing their strengths and being able to capitalize on them. Time to use her training.
She stood to leave. “I’ve got someone I need to talk to.”
“Good luck,” Markus shot at her back as she pushed out of the kitchen.
A lengthy search found her target lying sideways on the rec room sofa clicking through channels on a fifty-five-inch flat panel. He chewed on an oatmeal cream pie, which was his sixth or seventh based on the discarded wrappers scattered around him. She sat on the opposite end of the sofa.
“Whatcha want?” Cy asked, mouth full. He didn’t pause his manic channel surf.
“I need your help.”
Cy sighed and rolled his eyes heavenward. “Sure, I’ll teach you some spells too.”
“That might be interesting, but that’s not what I need.”
Cy paused on a soccer game. He glanced her way for the first time. “What can the cripple possibly do for you?”
Astrid resisted an eye roll. “I want you on my daemon-fighting team.”
Cy snorted. “You going to push me out there in a wheelchair as bait or something?”
Astrid swiped the remote out of his hands and clicked off the TV.
“Hey, I was watching that.” Cy sat up, pushing a few wrappers out of his way.
“You were pouting. Get over yourself. Yeah, you got an injury. Boo-hoo. Poor you. You’ve got eons of memory, and are supposedly some sort of super spell guru. That means you probably don’t even need to lift a sword to kill these daemons, do you? Sure, it’s more fun to play with them a bit before you kill them, at least from Khyan’s perspective.”
“Only Khyan plays with them. What exactly do you think I can do for you on a team? I’m not a magus right now. My spell casting ability is minuscule at best. And I’m…” He waved at his missing lower limb.
She cocked her head. “I need you to advise me and be a part of my on-site coordination. If you want to teach me spells, then that’s cool, but I think filling my head with mumbo jumbo right now isn’t really smart. I want you on-site to advise me on the technicals of daemons who I suspect you’ve met more than once. Perhaps you can teach me an in-the-moment spell.”
“You want me out there in the fight? As a human kid?”
“Yes and no. I don’t want to put you out there in danger. You’d be on a com-link working logistical. You know what that is?”
Cy nodded and grinned. “Ashor won’t like this.”
Astrid shrugged. “He doesn’t like much of anything I’ve suggested, but if we can prove to him that this will work, that both of us are safe, then we’re golden. What do you think? The pregnant chick and the cripple?”
Cy shook the mostly empty box of oatmeal cream pies and held one out to her. “So, what do you want me to do?”
She accepted the offering. “You need a prosthesis. Get Kira on that. I want you sprint capable within the next few weeks. That means get off your slowly fattening ass and exercise.”
Cy waved his half-eaten trans-fat snack. “Unlike you, I’ve still got the metabolism of a teenager. I plan to take advantage of that.”
She smiled. “This might work.”
“So, Djoser actually bested Zannis in a fight?” Cy asked in a slow drawl. “You saw it?”
“Djoser rammed a sword through Zannis’s chest.” Astrid had no interest in rehashing that painful memory.
“Did he bring forth his pets?” Cy unwrapped a new oatmeal cream and took a bite.
“No.”
“No dragons? Did he say why he didn’t call the dragons?”
Astrid shook her head. “Why are you asking about this? He’s dead.”
“Yeah,” he answered with his mouth full. “Then again he’s not, is he? At least not if Kane is him now, which is what I think since Kane got dragons. But I’m not so sure that Djoser actually won that fight.”
“What? You think Zannis let Djoser do that? Why?” Her mind raced with possibilities. Had he known about Kane in this realm? She hadn’t thought so.
Cy turned the TV back on. “Dunno.” He took another large bite to polish off the oatmeal cream. “I just don’t understand why he wouldn’t have used the dragons. They’re…well, they’re insanely good when he used them. I actually never saw him lose when they helped. I’ve also never seen a magus who found his girl not use everything in his arsenal to stay alive.” Softly he added, “I would’ve.”
“He’s dead. We’re not.” Astrid’s mind whirled with the possibility Zannis had suicided, and the whys, if it might be true.
****
Javen lounged in a wooden deck chair outside. Astrid watched him take a deep draw of his joint and blow two smoke halos in a lazy manner that suggested boredom.
Without glancing her way he said, “I heard you killed another daemon.”
“You ended the first one. I just distracted that one for you.”
He watched smoke billow upwards from his joint. “Technicality.”
She halted several feet away from him, uncertain. Would this ancient warrior help her? He’d only reluctantly accepted her mentorship, but she wasn’t certain if that agreement just meant that f
irst fight or for serious long-term training in this lifestyle.
He glanced her way. “I could admit I just eavesdropped on your thoughts, but I think it important you ask me what you need and we’ll pretend I didn’t.”
She moved into his sightline. “Teach me. I want to know how to move like you and how to destroy those fuckers.”
Javen cocked his head and took another deep inhale on the joint. “You want me on your team?”
“I don’t know yet. You’re old school. I’m doing new school. Different.”
“So you want to test me out?” Javen raised his eyebrows.
“No. If you want to be a part of my unit, that’s fine. We’d be lucky to have your skills on my team, but you’d have to recognize I am in charge. None of this I’m older and know best bullshit. I need you to show me how to do this so everyone can get off my back about being knocked-up and in danger. That means I need training. I figured no one else would want to teach me since I’m…you know.” Pregnant.
Javen put his joint out on his shoe and perched on the edge of the chair to shoot her a nasty glare. “I don’t do easy, if we are to train. I don’t pull punches or keep the knives from hurting. I won’t give a bloody fuck that you’re pregnant.”
Astrid grinned. A laugh-snort escaped before she could bite it back. “I invented trash talk. Does that I’m-a-bad-ass bullshit actually work on the other guys?”
Javen’s eyes widened.
“Don’t worry, badass, your secret that you’re an overprotective softy is safe with me. I’m pretty sure you’re just as chauvinistic as the other guys. That means you’re just as hung up on the fact I’m a girl and terrified about the fact that I’m pregnant.” She put her hands on her hips. “I need your help. I’m a fast learner, and I won’t complain. I’ll let you know if I’m having issues. I just spoke with Kira about this. She gave me the thumbs-up to train as long as I do a check-in with her at the end of every day. If you train me into a super warrior, then the others will assume that badass thing to be true.”
