by Jasmine Walt
Her eyes were wide and fixed on his broad shoulders. She looked at the fleshy blades on Baros’s back like they were smeared with chocolate frosting. “I told you, I like the bad boys.”
“No.” I tried to reach for patience before reaching out and yanking the sense out of her. “I mean a soulless demon.”
That got her attention. She pouted her lips, completely affronted. “Well, I wouldn’t go that far.”
“That’s rich coming from a death-eating ghoul,” Baros said.
“Excuse me?” I glared at him. “What did you just call me?”
“Hey . . .” Loren turned on him. “That’s my friend you’re talking about.”
“Your friend is of a race of beings who have wreaked utter destruction all over the world for longer than time can remember,” Baros said. “They have started wars and been behind mass genocides for millennia after millennia that continue to this day.”
“Well . . .” Loren held up a finger, but it wobbled. “Maybe, but she didn’t do it on purpose.”
Loren turned to me for confirmation. I rolled my eyes and put my hands on my hips, completely letting go of my fighting stance in the face of this impasse.
“She’s a Persian,” Baros spat.
I raised my guard back up at the unexpected jibe. “No, I’m not.”
At least, I didn’t think I was. I spent a lot of time in ancient Persia, and the Ottoman Empire, and in modern-day Turkey. But I didn’t think I was born there. I didn’t have much of an affinity for the region. I didn’t really have a loyalty to any part of the globe.
“Let me handle this,” Loren said to me. She turned to Baros, placed her hands on his chest, and promptly got distracted. “Damn, Lenny, have you been working out?”
Baros broke his glare from me and grinned down at her.
“Oh, for the love of—” I blew out a breath, forgetting the Persia crack and putting my attention on my horny ho of a bestie. “Loren, look into his eyes. He has no pupils.”
“He has a condition called aniridia,” she said as she gazed into his eyes. “He was born without pupils. It makes him sensitive to light. I think it’s beautiful.”
“It’s the mark of a demon,” I said. “It means he’s sold his soul to the devil.”
“I am a Chosen,” Baros growled. “I didn’t sell my soul to the devil. I gave it freely to my God.”
“Who, I’m sure, is the devil,” I said.
“You could say that,” said a silky voice off in the distance. “In fact, most do.”
I brought my gaze to the doorway. There stood the golden, kissable libertine in all his naked beauty. He was taller now that he was standing. As tall as Baros, but not as broad. He had a lithe beauty, like a gymnast with a muscle tone that looked like it was made for cuddling and not fighting. His abs looked like waves women would be eager to ride and let pull them down, down, down to a happy trail that led to a massive islet whose sail was raised as though eager to welcome me aboard.
I diverted my gaze. He was flanked by four men. A closer look at his bodyguards showed me they were without pupils and irises as well.
The libertine made his way over to me. Again, I felt drawn to him. He did have irises, but the color sparkled like golden flecks of lightning.
“Who are you?” I asked.
“I am crushed you don’t remember me, Tisa.”
I gulped, but my mouth was dry. Tisa wasn’t an alias I used often. It was the first name I remembered, and only those who had known me for hundreds of years knew it.
“You said you had trouble with your memory from time to time.” He chuckled again. “Get it? Time to time.” He turned to the men behind him. They offered halfhearted chuckles at the attempt at a joke, but a moment too late. “I must admit, I am wounded you don’t remember me after all we shared.”
At his words, it was as though I shook a memory loose. I remembered his face grinning down at me, coming close to me from a time long ago. The sky was lit with every shade of yellow. Rain poured down around us, but not a drop touched our skin. In the present, I shook my head slowly, left to right. This could not be happening to me again.
Yes, again. I’d already forgotten a love affair with one Immortal. Somewhere among my things had to be a little black book where I kept these details of past affairs. Or maybe I didn’t want to know who I’d shacked up with in the past?
“Oh, God.” I cringed.
“Quite.” Golden Boy grinned, taking another step toward me. “Would you like me to refresh your memory?”
He reached for me. Those lush lips that had floored human women came at me. Instinctively, I stepped out of his reach.
He chuckled again. Then he turned to Baros and opened his hand. Baros’s jaw clenched. The large male took a deep breath, nostrils flaring like a bull’s. He reached with his left thumb and forefinger and pulled the ring off his right pinky. Baros clenched the object in his fist before he placed the ring in the libertine’s hand.
“Is this what all the fuss is about?” Golden Boy asked, looking down at the ring.
“It belongs in a museum,” I said.
“No,” he said. “It belongs to me, and I gave it to Leonidas.”
I paused. Who was this guy? What was this guy? Was he the devil who made these demons? He smiled as though he could see my thoughts. Was that a confirmation?
“Keep it for now,” he said. “Return it when you remember. I’ll see you in Greece? At the rites?”
My nostrils flared at the mention of the rites. I still wanted to know what they were. Golden Boy threw his head back and laughed, as though he knew he’d dangled catnip in front of my nose.
“Oh, Tisa,” he purred. “My curious little Immortal could never resist a good mystery.”
He smiled at me. His golden eyes raked over me from head to toe, leaving me feeling as though a lightning rod licked across my skin every place he lingered. His golden gaze met mine, and I saw the storm inside. I felt myself leaning forward, but before my lips touched his, I pulled back.
He sighed as though disappointed but not disheartened. It was a sigh that was full of patient mischief. “Let them go.”
Golden Boy stepped aside and made a sweeping motion to the door. I didn’t need to be told twice. I picked up my feet and headed in that direction. Then I turned, feeling as though I’d forgotten something.
“Loren,” I hissed.
“Huh?” She turned from her continued appraisal of Baros. Looking crestfallen, she trudged after me like a kid who didn’t want to leave the playground.
“See you soon, Lolo,” Baros said.
Loren turned back with puppy-dog eyes. I yanked her out the door.
“You just had to have the ring,” she grumped.
“It belongs in a—”
She pinched her fingers together and made a shushing sound. “Don’t even. Especially when I know you’re not about to drop that baby off at the Greek Ministry of Culture and Antiquities.”
I looked down at the ring then back through the door at the golden man who was watching me walk away. I clutched the ring in my palm.
“Yeah,” Loren said. “Thought so.”
4
My feet sank into the shaved earth. Granules sifted between my toes and settled on my toenails like a bronze nail polish. The pyramids stretched out before me. Tombs for kings, queens, and gods. The sun rose as I watched workers build the Temple of Isis.
They piled on sunbaked mud at the base. Stones of lime, sand, and granite fit together like puzzle pieces that reached higher and higher into the sky. The massive structure opened to sloping walls that showed high-ceilinged hallways.
I stood from somewhere on high, looking down at the progress. Arms encircled me, pressing the line of my body into the circumference of him.
“Nefer baka, ashugee.”
I wasn’t entirely sure if this was a dream or a memory. I’d spent countless days and nights leaning back in the safety and comfort of his arms. There was nothing special about this momen
t, except the ancient language he’d used.
Languages were easy for me to remember, especially the original ones. The deep, familiar voice whispered a greeting in my ear. I wasn’t sure if I was born in Egypt, but that was where many of my oldest memories lay.
I didn’t have many memories of our time in Egypt. I had forgotten the numerous occasions we had been in love, where he claimed to remember every single one of them—eight in total. But I doubted that in this moment, in the comfort of the dream. Because, in reality, I hadn’t seen or heard from him in weeks. But every night when I closed my eyes, he was there. Holding me. Kissing me. Painting me. Loving me.
“Good morning, my love,” he’d said in a language older than Egypt itself.
He’d loved me then, before the pyramids were built. I knew it for the truth as sure as I knew the words he’d whispered in my ear. I rested in his embrace as I watched history rise around me.
We were on the island of Philae where the Temple of Isis sat. This temple was one of many built for the goddess. Philae was near Greece. The goddess, Isis, was highly favored and devoutly revered in the Egyptian, Greek, and Roman cultures.
Time sped up as the temple rose before us, piece by piece. The sun and moon arced across the sky as I turned in the crescent of Zane’s body.
“Zane?”
“Oui, ma petite nova?”
“I miss you.”
“You have me, mon coeur. You have always had me. You will always have me.”
I turned into his body, resting my forehead against his lips, my hands against his broad shoulders. In his arms, I couldn’t remember why I was angry with him. Why I was alone in a bed at this very moment and not curled up with him.
He’d only tried to protect me, to keep me safe. Okay, so yeah, maybe he didn’t tell me some things from our shared past that came back to bite me in the ass a couple of millennia later. But I had secrets of my own.
His fingers traced my cheekbones. Even in my dreams, he sought out the details of my body to use in his artwork. I held still for him as I always did, allowing him to love me through the expression of his art.
The sounds of children laughing filled my ears, and my heart sank as the reasons why I had turned from this man flooded into my head. This gentle man had committed genocide in my name. The ghoulish details came back as the blood of the Lin Kuie men, women, and children filled my vision.
I pulled away and peered into his face, unchanged for millennia. His skin was deeply tanned from lying on Mediterranean sands. His eyes were dark, hooded by long lashes that covered the secrets he still held. One lock of his thick, curly hair fell forward as it always did. I balled my fingers into a fist instead of reaching for it. I stared at him and tried to see the evil in him. He held still and let me look my fill.
And like the last time I’d seen him, my heart had trouble reconciling what my mind knew. That was likely why I had forgotten it the first time. I wished I could forget again so I could close my eyes and get lost in his arms, his kiss, his body. But the battle raged inside me. So loud was my indecision that it took on a voice.
The sounds of the children turned to chants. They were rhythmic and lulling. A drumbeat started, and then a voice emerged from the beat. That had never happened since I’d been dreaming these dreams of my past with Zane over the last few weeks.
“Nia,” someone called.
I turned and saw a woman. She was dressed in a peplos from ancient times. Her light hair flowed around her. She seemed tall, too tall to be human. Even though she was surrounded by children, she looked as though she were a giant.
“Nia.” She beckoned me.
I hesitated to leave the comfort and familiarity of Zane’s presence, but when I turned back to him, he was gone. My heartbeat sped up as I glanced around. My eyes wildly searched when I couldn’t find him.
“Nia.”
I wrenched my eyes open to a blonde woman with blue eyes.
“Dreaming about Fine Frenchie again?” Loren asked as she hovered over me.
“What? No.” I turned from Loren, hiding my face as I came fully awake.
“You should call him.”
I shook my head as I rolled over and got out of the bed.
“Then call Broody Billionaire.”
I nearly tripped at the thought of her new suggestion. Tresor Mohandis was someone else I wasn’t prepared to see or even think about. But I knew Loren wouldn’t let this bone go so easily. So I turned the tables around on her.
“Let’s talk about your ex instead,” I said.
“My ex? You mean Lenny the demon. You think he sold his soul to the devil?”
“We think that’s how it works. No one knows for sure.” Or if they did, they didn’t share. Immortals weren’t always forthcoming with information. For beings who lived longer than recorded time, money was no object. Our currency was information and memories of times gone past.
“I wonder how much he got for it?” Loren’s eyes went unfocused, the way they did when she was thinking of doing something less than savory. “What do you think a soul goes for these days?”
“I doubt he got any actual currency. The exchange is for long life and strength. I assume the human has to make something of that himself.”
“What does the devil get? An army? Minions? To what end?”
“Power is a drug.” We’d seen that with the leader of the Gongyi tribe who’d led us to the dragon bone. During our adventures in China, Mr. Xu had been a man so driven by the need to advance his family that he’d gone mad and was prepared to murder those who got in the way of his plan. Instead of advancing his family, they’d been once again wiped off the face of the planet, save a few who were under constant observation.
“Do you think the blond flasher is the devil incarnate?” Loren asked, bringing me back to our present adventure.
“I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe.” But even as I said the words, I knew they weren’t right. But what was he if not an Immortal? Definitely not a knight. A wizard, maybe?
“Well . . .” Loren said. “He sure remembers you.”
I glared at Loren. She grinned back. She had never cowered under my displeasure or my daggers. She had too much estrogen for cowardice.
“I can’t remember who he is,” I admitted. “But I’m sure we’ve met before.”
“Do you think you were lovers?”
“I don’t know.” I cringed. I hid my face in my hands, feeling like a loose woman. “But I am pretty sure he’s the one in charge. He saw me come in. He knew what I was, so he knows I don’t have a soul to take. What we need to figure out is why they want you?”
“Because I’m awesome,” Loren said.
“You’re also a criminal mastermind.”
She gasped, placing her hand over her heart. “That has to be the nicest thing you’ve ever said about me.”
When she wasn’t out raiding tombs for treasure, Loren had spent much of her life making . . . shall we say, imitation art.
“What was Baros into when you two were together?”
Loren shrugged. “Anything that gave him a kick of adrenaline. Mostly, he was a fighter—boxing, Muay Thai, any type of competition fighting. He was my sword master while my dad was consulting on the restoration of the Parthenon. Meanwhile, I was a teenager hot for teacher.”
“He didn’t take advantage of you, did he?”
Loren snorted.
I realized it was a stupid question. She likely took full advantage of him.
“He wouldn’t touch me until I came of age,” she confirmed. “I tracked him down as soon as I turned eighteen.”
“He has the build of a gladiator.”
“Oh yeah, he does.” She waggled her eyebrows. “Wait!” Her brows shot up. “So Lenny could be hundreds of years old. He could be an actual gladiator. Like, I banged Russell Crowe.”
It was possible. I looked down at the ancient ring I still coveted.
“But if he’s super human,” Loren said, “that means when we were ris
king our necks bungee jumping and rock climbing, he wasn’t in much danger while I was actually risking my sweet life?”
I nodded.
“The asshole. And I thought he cared.”
I shrugged.
“So, demons are strong, they live forever, and they have no pupils. Anything else?”
“I haven’t run into many of them—not for hundreds of years. Most of them seem to keep to Europe and Greece.”
Greece. That was another place I didn’t visit often. I’d assumed it was because of things I was trying to forget. Things like my time there with Tresor Mohandis. But now I wondered if something else had happened.
“There are devils and demons in the world?” Loren asked. “Do you think they drank your blood or bones in the past? Because it sure looked like Golden Rod had free access to your body at one point in time.”
I threw a pillow at her. She caught it instead of ducking.
I aimed a warning finger. “I just want to point out that whatever and whomever I do in my lifetime, you will always be Top Ho.”
“You’re so magnanimous to give me the crown.” Loren stood and inclined her head regally. “Are we gonna go to this mystery party in Greece or what?”
“Let’s see if we can get more information on these demons and—what did you call him?—Golden Rod, first. I know someone who may know more about demons, especially if they have anything to do with Greece.”
5
We touched down in Turkey later the next day. It was Loren’s first time in Istanbul. She strained her neck looking at the Byzantine domes, golden minarets, and grand courtyards. I left her to sightsee while I headed off on my family reunion.
The city had changed since I’d been here over a hundred years ago. After invaders came into the country from each side, after countless wars, after thirty-six sultans, the West had finally infiltrated the East as evidenced in the crossroads of the marketplace I walked through to get to my destination.
The call to prayer sounded from the loudspeakers of a mosque announcing the midday prayer. Not everyone stopped their work and headed to the mosque or dropped to their knees in salat. Women walked around with their heads uncovered, showing off fashionable hairstyles and made-up faces. Men held phones to their ears and continued to do business instead of dropping their heads in prayer.
