Taboo (A Tale of the Talhari Book 1)

by Heather Elizabeth King

  “You say you’re a journalist,” Alaric said. “Have you always wanted to go into that field?”

  She eyed him.

  “If you’re going to help my team, we should at least friends.” He held out his hand to her. “Friends?”

  She stared at it for a few seconds, then took it. “Fine. Friends.”

  He went back to chopping the garlic while she chopped the onion. The only sound in the kitchen was the sound of knives slicing through vegetables.

  He cleared his throat and broke the silence. “So how long have you known you wanted to be a journalist?”

  “I’ve always enjoyed telling stories. People have so many stories to tell, but typically there’s no one there to tell them. That’s what I do. Being nosy helps.” She looked up at him, then back down quickly. The man was gorgeous. “What about you, Alaric. What are you? And what’s that place you took me to today?”

  “I’m a man.”

  “You’re no ordinary man.”

  She took the cut up onions and garlic and dumped them in the pan where the soy sauce and oil sizzled. She stirred the mixture and made herself look at him. “There’s more to your story than that.”

  “If I told you, you wouldn’t believe me.”

  “How can you say that? I think I’ve proven that I’m more than open to believe the unbelievable. I’ve seen what you can do, so I know your story isn’t ordinary.”

  “I’m Talhari.”

  “What’s a Talhari?”

  “It’s an ancient order that was created to protect mankind from…” he smiled. “…things that go bump in the night. As you’ve seen for yourself, it’s a strange world out there. Evil exists. It’s real and it’s deadly. Humans aren’t capable of going toe to toe with these creatures, so the Talhari order was created.”

  “And what exactly is the Talhari order?” She stirred the onions and garlic until they caramelized, then began adding chicken parts. She sprinkled the mixture with rosemary, thyme and dill, then added a bit of water. She let the mixture come to a boil as she talked. “You might as well be speaking another language.”

  “Talhari are a sort of super soldier, but we weren’t created by any government. We were created as a means to maintain the balance. Talhari warriors are specially trained to fight vampires and werewolves, and all creatures who lurk in the shadows. Long ago a Talhari warrior had martial arts and weaponry training, these days we have those things, but we also have enhancements.”

  “What kind of enhancements?”

  “I’ve got Intel S—smart steel—built into my skeleton. The technology is military, but that’s the only thing about us that is. We stole their technology and made it better.”

  “Like Wolverine?”

  “You could say that. And we’re hard to kill. In fact, we’re nearly impossible to kill.”

  “Unless you’re decapitated or burned?”

  “Exactly. You’re learning. When we are injured we heal quickly. We don’t catch colds or anything like that, we’re essentially super humans.”

  “Were you ever human?”

  “I was, once.” He began cutting green beans. “But that was a long time ago.”

  She let that sink in.

  She looked at him, his long blonde hair, the ropes of muscle on his arms. He looked like a warrior. Beautiful, but hard; kind, but determined.

  “How old are you?”

  He grinned again. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

  “Try me.”

  “I began life as a Visigoth.”

  “A barbarian. You were a Germanic—I know Germany didn’t exist at that time—but the Visigoth are ancestors of Germans. That would make you…” she calculated. Possibly—”

  “I was born in 389 A.D.”

  She set the spatula on the stove and sat down. “I can’t even get my mind around that.”

  “I’m the oldest of my team.”

  “I guess so. That’s why you’re the leader.”

  He inclined his head at this. “I’ve seen the most battle. I’m the most experienced, but Intel-S makes a world of a difference when you’re

  down a werewolf, let me tell you.”

  “So how were you selected?”

  “It was chance. The way it happens for many of the Talhari. I came face to face with the supernatural one day.”

  The meat began sizzling on the stove. “Crap, it’s burning.” She rushed to the pan, put the heat on low and let it simmer. She took the rest of the chopped vegetables from Alaric and dumped them into a smaller pan and stir fried them.

  “Tell me,” she said.

  “It’s nothing daring or impressive. It was late. Very late. I’d been out in the field with my father all day. I was tired; exhausted. That smells good. How much longer?”

  “It has to simmer.”

  “So come sit for a while.”

  She lowered the heat on the vegetables and covered them, flipped the chicken then recovered them as well.

  “Would you like something to drink?” She asked, walking back to the refrigerator. “I have Dogfish Head Indian Brown Ale, Sam Adams Cream Stout, Devil’s Backbone Vienna Lager. I also have Chateau Morrisette’s Red Mountain Laurel. I think I have muscato somewhere, and a Riesling, but neither are chilled.”

  “Local wine?”

  “I like to buy local whenever I can. Devil’s Backbone is local, too.”

  “I’ll try the Devil’s Backbone.”

  She smiled. “Good choice.”

  She poured him a beer and herself a glass of the Red Mountain Laurel, then led the way into the living room.

  “This is nice,” he said, settling on the sofa. “Are all those pictures of your family?”

  “Yeah. They’re out west, and there are lots of them. I like to keep their pictures up and around me. Makes me feel like I’m not so far away from them.”

  She set her wine on the coffee table and went to the fireplace. “Are you chilly?”

  He shook his head. “I’m impervious to heat and cold, unless the temperatures are extreme.”

  “Enhancements,” she said, putting a log in the hearth then lighting a flame beneath it. “I’m chilly, so I’ll get a fire going.”

  He grabbed her wine and his beer and came to join her on the rug. He sat, cross legged beside her, staring at the budding flames.

  “Finish your story,” she said.

  “Where was I…?”

  “It was late at night and you were tired.”

  “Yes, I was exhausted. But I was so exhausted I couldn’t sleep. Has that ever happened to you? I stared up at the ceiling for close to an hour. I can’t say that I felt anything bad was going to happen, I don’t remember. But I remember not being able to sleep. I was still wide away when I heard the horses whinny. I remember sitting up in bed and going to the window to see if anything was out there. But I didn’t see a thing. So I went back to bed.”

  He took a sip from his beer then looked at Sydney. “You sure you want to hear this?”

  “If you don’t mind talking about it.”

  “It’s been so long.” He sighed. “I must have dozed off, because the next thing I remember is my mother screaming. It was...” he sucked in a breath, “…horrible. They were the screams of a woman who wasn’t only terrified, but in pain. In agony. So I got out of bed, grabbed my sword. By then my father’s screams had joined my mother’s. I burst into their bedroom. No thoughts of stealth. I wanted to help them, to save them, to kill whatever had caused my mother to scream that way.”

  He took another sip of beer.

  Unthinking, she put her hand on his knee and squeezed. “I’m sorry, Alaric. You don’t have to say anymore.”

  He set his hand on top of hers and squeezed back.

  Warmth suffused her body. She nearly shivered at the contact.

  Not human, not human, she reminded herself.

  “It’s all right. I don’t think I’ve told this story in a thousand years.”

  “I’m sorry. I
t was wrong of me to ask.”

  “No, it wasn’t. If I were you, I’d ask.”

  He squeezed her hand again, but didn’t remove his own. The heat of his skin was like an aphrodisiac.

  Ruthlessly, she forced the emotions down.

  “There were these things, these creatures in our home. Three of them. One was on top of my mother, at her throat, the other two…” he swallowed and sucked in air again, “…the other two had my father, each had an arm.” He drank more beer, then the rest of the story came out in a rush. “They tore him apart. As though he were a wishbone. Ripped him right in half in front of me. The blood. His insides came spilling out. I think I went a little mad at that point.” He laughed, humorlessly. “I know I went a little mad. I saw black.”

  He squeezed her hand again, so hard she feared he’d crack her bones.

  “I screamed and they all turned to look at me. But I was so young, they didn’t see me as a threat. They were going to eat him, to devour him right there. Right in front of me.” He stopped again to catch his breath. “By this time my mother had stopped screaming and had gone limp. I knew she was gone, too. What I remember most in that moment is rage. Not fear, not sorrow, but pure, unfiltered, rage. In seconds these things had destroyed the two people who mattered most to me. In seconds they had destroyed my entire world. Seconds.”

  He squeezed her hand again.

  “Unthinking, I ran at the two creatures who’d torn my father in two. I charged them, screeching like a banshee.” He looked at her and laughed. “Kind of like you. But I knew how to use my weapon. I sliced the arm off one of the creatures, decapitated the other, not knowing I’d just delivered a death blow.”

  “You said you were young. How old were you?”

  “Not yet fifteen, but I was a warrior. But even born a warrior as I was, I was no match for the remaining creatures. They looked at me, looked at their fallen compatriot, then came at me. They would have killed me, too, if Umberto hadn’t arrived.”

  “Umberto?”

  “The first Talhari I was to meet. He was a warrior, like I am today. He had two men with him and they dispatched the creatures quickly. Then they let me gather whatever items I needed and burned down my home. I took my horse and my father’s horse, the other animals they let go free, sure someone would care for them once people realized my family was gone, burned in the fire. You can’t imagine the value of livestock in those days. I knew they would be fine.”

  “So this Umberto took you in?”

  “Yes, he took me in. The Talhari took me in. They would have taken me in no matter what, not every Talhari is a warrior. There are the…” he stared down at their joined hands, thinking, “…librarians, who study the supernatural, find out about the things that exist in the world, their weaknesses. There are the historians, who chart our history and the history of the creatures we face, there are the news hounds who stay abreast of supernatural events happening in the world. Our assignments originate here. Then there’s the Talhari ruling class, who govern us, create laws, that kind of thing, and then there are those like me, the warriors. We fight the creatures, we destroy them.”

  “It sounds like a large organization.”

  “It is. There are Talhari motherhouses throughout the world. But we operate in secret.”

  “So how did they decide you should be a warrior?”

  “It was obvious. The beasts that destroyed my family I later found out were vampires. The fact that I had cut off the arm of one vampire and decapitated another pretty much sealed the deal for me. Even at that age I was fast and good with a sword. I was born a warrior. It is who I was and who I am. So they trained me. I studied under Umberto, it was almost like continuing the education my father had begun, but the ways of the Talhari were far more advanced than the ways of the Visigoths. I improved my sword fighting, learned fighting styles of the east, and I studied, I learned everything I could about the creatures in existence. Being able to fight isn’t the only thing a Talhari warrior has to do. To effectively fight we must know our opponent’s weaknesses, how they attack, things like that. So I studied and I grew. At seventeen they began to give me infusions of vampire blood to strengthen me. At twenty-one I began going out on campaigns, under the direction of Umberto. And here I am today.” He shrugged.

  “What about Umberto?”

  “He also is in the United States. A musician. Quite famous, actually.”

  “Umberto Pena, the lead singer of Forsaken?”

  “One and the same.”

  She shook her head. “Are you serious?”

  “The entire band are Talhari.”

  “I don’t believe it.”

  “Believe it. Someday I’ll introduce you to them.”

  The crackle of the fire seemed to grow louder when he stopped speaking. The feel of his hand made her a little dizzy. She knew her face was getting hot, but she didn’t think it was because the heat coming from the fireplace.

  She slid her hand free and rose. “The food should be ready.”

  He began to stand as well, but she waved him off. “I’ll be right back.”

  In the kitchen she grabbed two plates from the cupboard, utensils and tried very hard to get herself under control. Here he was spilling his heart to her, telling her a story he hadn’t told anyone in centuries, and she was busy having the hots for him.

  They’d eat dinner, then he’d go home, and she’d read for a bit then go to bed. She wouldn’t think about how much she wanted him to kiss her. How desperate she was to know the taste of him. He wasn’t even human, not anymore. Where could a relationship with someone like him go?

  She returned to the living room a few minutes later, plates laden with food.

  “That smells wonderful,” he said. “I can’t tell you how long it’s been since I’ve eaten real food.”

  “Are you away from home a lot?”

  “I am. There’s more going on in this world than people realize.” He patted the carpet. “Do you mind if we eat on the floor. It’s comfortable.”

  “I don’t mind.”

  She resettled beside him, this time careful to put some distance between them.

  “I won’t bite you.”

  Her face grew hot again. “That’s good to know.”

  “You don’t have to sit all the way over there.”

  She feigned ignorance. “I’m just sitting.” She laughed, sounding stupid even to her own ears.

  “I don’t mean to make you nervous.”

  “I’m not nervous,” she said, then set her wine glass on her fork and sent green beans flying across the room.

  Brilliant.

  He rose with her and helped her gather up the food.

  While she threw it in the trash, she endeavored to get herself under control. She was making a complete fool of herself.

  She returned to the living room and sat, carefully, on the rug. “I’m sorry.”

  “So am I,” he said, then rose to his knees, crawled to her, and pressed his lips gently to hers.

  The kiss started slow, a gentle tasting. Then he moaned hungrily, slid his tongue inside and devoured.

  They were locked together, touching, savoring, enjoying. She wasn’t ready for him to pull away from her when he did. She didn’t try to stop him, though, she only tried to slow her breathing.

  He grinned down at her, his crooked smile making her smile despite herself.

  “There, that’s better. Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way we should both be able to relax.”

  She didn’t know about relaxing. Her heart was racing and she was out of breath. She nodded, though, then swallowed most of her wine in three gulps. “I’m sorry. I’m not usually this—”

  He quieted her with another kiss, then settled back on the rug.

  They ate in companionable silence.

  She tried not to wonder what she was doing, chasing down monsters and kissing men who weren’t human anymore. Had she lost her mind?

  “The place you took me today, was th
at a Talhari motherhouse?”

  “You can’t tell anyone about it.”

  She whistled. “How does the Talhari make money? That’s one fancy setup.”

  “That,” he said, putting his empty dish on the carpet, “is a story for another day.”

  She rose, gathered the dishes, took them to the kitchen and put them in the sink. She jumped when he came up behind her, then shivered at the press of his body against hers.

  “Can I help you with anything?”

  “No, I have everything under control.”

  His hands on her shoulders were warm. He turned her to face him, bent low and kissed her again. When he pulled away she was pleasantly light headed.

  “I’m going to stay. After what happened at the office, I don’t want to leave you alone.”

  “You think they’d come here?”

  “I’m not willing to risk it. I don’t like the fact that they attacked you on the street one night and inside your office the next. It’s like they’ve singled you out for some reason.”

  She had a hold of his shirt and didn’t seem able to let it go. “So I don’t have anything to worry about? You’ll be here to protect me.”

  He studied her face, tilting her head up so he could look into her eyes. “I’ll be here to protect you. For as long as you need me.”

  She came out of her bathroom, intending to put blankets and a pillow on the pull-out in her office, but was surprised to find that Alaric had already made himself at home in her bed.

  He lay on his back, sans shirt, hands folded behind his head.

  His chest was bare.

  She blinked.

  His chest was bare.

  She’d thought bodies like his only existed in Hollywood, but she’d been wrong. She could see every muscle, every curve of his biceps. He was like something out of a movie, or a magazine.

  His hair fanned out beneath him on the pillow. His grin was nothing short of sinful.

  “I didn’t think you’d mind,” he said. “I don’t have a toothbrush or anything with me, so all that was left for me to do was get into bed.”

  She stared at him for a few beats, wondering how she’d survive the night with a man like Alaric in her bed. No matter what, though, she refused to continue to behave like the self-conscious, shy, adolescent she’d seemed like all night.