The Blood Key (The Wander Series Book 1)

by Vaun Murphrey

  Dom’s hands were fisted as he said, “Chris is gonna shit bricks when he finds out this was here.”

  Cyril blinked. “Oh, he knew. He’s known since his tenth birthday.”

  The buzz in my ears turned into a full blown rage headache. I yelled, “You’re lying! Chris would’ve told me!”

  All those years of missing my father with my brother by my side. Our long talks gazing at the stars through the skylight—wondering about life and if Cyril was just missing or dead. About who my mother was and why Cyril wouldn’t speak of her. How could he have not told me what he knew? I felt sick. Bile rose and I cupped a palm over my throat to breath carefully through my nose.

  Cyril’s mien took on a sad cast as he replied, “Christophe was part human and could never be more than a keeper of knowledge. He accepted that. Part of a Thoth’s duty is to guard their knowledge against improper use. You were too young. At ten Christophe was more of a man than most people. I’m proud to call him my son. If you really want him back then stop fighting me and listen, Bozena.”

  I shook my head. The fire of stomach acid stung the back of my throat as unshed tears burned. With effort I stilled the tremble of my chin.

  Cyril tilted his head as if he were looking over spectacles. “Christophe was protecting you, Bozena. He didn’t betray you. Your brother was only attempting to wait for the proper time to tell you. If you had shown signs of awakening, he would have approached Rowena sooner for the Dalah.”

  I swallowed—choking back the emotion to think. “So he was playing dumb with her when she showed it to him?”

  Cyril nodded, “I wasn’t there as you know, but that sounds like something your brother would do. Especially if you were near.” His eyes narrowed to slits and his upper lip went tight over his front teeth. “Christophe knew how dangerous the Dalah was. Rowena had no business opening the box.”

  Dom retorted, “Well, she did. You’re the one who left it with her anyway. This whole thing is your fault.”

  Cyril shooed Dom’s words away like an annoying bug and began to descend the black stairs. “You know nothing, young pup. I did what I did for a reason.” He paused when only his head was visible. “Well, come on then! Don’t just stand there. Hop to it.”

  I reached backward to graze Dominic’s palm with my cold fingers. He laced our hands together and squeezed once, for reassurance I guessed. Or maybe he was just as terrified and frustrated as I was.

  At the head of the diagonal downward slant to a heretofore unknown room, I leaned my upper back into Dom’s chest and whispered over my shoulder, “Can I trust you or are you going to keep things from me again? I want to trust you, Dom.”

  We were still holding hands. He rubbed a thumb over my knuckles.

  “All the way, Zena. No more secrets.”

  The deep timbre of his words in my ear made the hair on my neck stand to attention.

  I knew we didn’t have time for it because Cyril was already out of sight, but I asked anyway, “Did Izzy seem okay when you dropped her home?”

  He put his free hand to my waist to usher us onto the first step. I tried to ignore the jump in my pulse. We took three steps downward. Only four more to go.

  “Not really. She was kinda dazed like me. It was like thinking you woke up from a bad dream only to realize the dream wasn’t over. I think she’s going to remember everything—it just may take her a little longer—being full human and all.”

  Full human. What a way to describe a person. Just another reminder of the madness my life.

  We reached the bottom in time for Cyril’s voice to explode between my ears, “Must you do everything in slow motion, Bozena?”

  I thought back as I came around a short wall, uncomfortable at his casual intrusion into my head, “Can you read my mind?”

  Out loud he chuckled. “No, I can’t and I thank the heavens for that. I’m mess enough all on my own. We’re picking up each other’s directed signals. If you accidentally broadcast I can overhear, though.”

  I vowed to think quiet thoughts. This was the most distressing thing so far. Dead people, COREs, Rowena’s impending return, Christophe’s disappearance and my time with Dr. Miller were nothing over the loss of my inner mental sanctum. The sentiment was decidedly selfish, so I decided to stuff it deep with the rest of my shameful things and hope it didn’t return. Hope was stupid like that.

  Dominic’s face was scrunched up with effort. “Can either of you hear what I’m thinking right now?”

  Cyril stood in front of a bank of monitors. He asked, “Right now, right now or before you asked?”

  “If I have to be that specific I’ll take that as a no.” He looked relieved.

  Dominic squeezed my fingers too tight. I hadn’t sensed anything either. When Cyril spoke to me it felt like earbuds on the loudest setting possible with a tiny bit of static overlaying the words. The mental static drove my head in a different and old direction. A memory buried so deep it had cobwebs.

  My thoughts segued to the rotation of an old timey phonograph, a needle bumping over uneven grooves played sweet strains of haunting classical music I had no name for. In my waking dream wooden bars separated me from getting closer to the hypnotic sounds. A woman’s voice crooned in a language I was on the edge of understanding. A flash of black hair, the smell of jasmine and I was lifted into the air to snuggle against a smooth, warm neck.

  The memory ended. It had to have been real. My eyes sought out Cyril. He was statue still, like a deer in the woods when it hears a stick crack. I had a sense of trepidation at his reaction. Why didn’t he want me to know anything about my mother? That was who had held me—I was sure of it.

  I didn’t want to ask about it in front of Dom. “You and I will be having a chat later, Cyril.”

  The smell of jasmine lingered as if it were a real thing instead of a recollection. Stronger even than the stale air I breathed in on reflex.

  16 FOUND

  Cyril blinked and turned in place, giving me a grand view of his back. With a graceful curl of his fingers, the squares I’d mistaken for monitors leapt to life in swirls of swimming crimson light marbled with deep purples and shades of blue-black. Motion centralized and a face popped out in a three-dimensional malleable blob. The features melted from male to female, old to young, and other life forms I couldn’t identify—strange manifestations of vague nightmares and imagined demons.

  Goosebumps made my shoulders contract in a primal reaction.

  Sounds chittered forth in a rapid babble from the suspended head. Cyril answered in the same tangled tongue. The shifting shape settled on a hawk-nosed human seeming. It was androgynous and bald but gave the impression of a regal profile. If it had been topped off with a Pharaoh’s headdress and kohl-lined eyes I might have likened it to a bust of King Tut.

  Dom shifted closer and the heat from his body steadied me.

  The head withdrew to emit green holographic light. A two-dimensional rendering of a solar system appeared with lines in a connect-the-dot formation between planets, moons and a single yellow sun. Colors began to fill in the uniform green as if the light spectrum had shifted. If I had glanced at it, I might have mistaken it for Earth’s home in space but small differences leapt out. The third planet from this different, more compact sun was all blue without a drop of water visible through the depicted gaseous atmosphere. Fourth in an elliptical orbit was a beautiful gem. Water glistened under sparse cloud cover and land masses teamed with verdant growth that was obvious even from this distant view.

  Cyril looked over his shoulder and the wall’s illumination caused pockets of darkness to engulf one side of his face. “This is where I think Christophe might be. I won’t know for certain until Rowena gives back the Dalah.”

  Dominic pushed the hair off his forehead with both hands and I tried to ignore how his biceps bunched or how a slim line of coppery skin revealed itself above the waistband of his jeans…albeit unsuccessfully. He caught me looking and dropped his arms.

  I asked
Cyril, “Why do you think Christophe is there? If you’re so sure why can’t we just go now? How come you haven’t gone before now, even?”

  The wall went black. Dominic yelped, “Hey!”

  Cyril growled, “Calm down, young pup.”

  He was quiet long enough that I thought he was done talking.

  “That world is occupied. We’d be lucky to get in and then out again without ending up unwilling permanent residents. If I had gone alone I wouldn’t be here now and you would still be in that institution Rowena let you be locked away in, thinking you killed Christophe…” His concentration lapsed as his words trailed away.

  Dominic nudged me with a hip. “How far away is this place? Why does Cyril think Chris is there and why is it so dangerous to go there?”

  Cyril snapped back to real time. “Don’t ask my daughter out loud things you’d rather ask me. It’s rude and betrays a weak character, Geb.”

  He spoke the word ‘Geb’ with disgust. Dom inhaled to fight back so I elbowed him in the side as a distraction. “You’re one to talk, Cyril. For a ‘person’ who’s been on Earth for centuries, you’ve managed to avoid learning manners pretty well.”

  The wall brightened with a yellowed tint. A gong sound erupted. It was so loud I covered my ears, hunched nearly in half and squeezed my eyes closed. Because we all know if you’ve closed your eyes you can’t hear anything, right? I felt idiotic until the thunderous boom faded and I saw Dom recovering himself from the same pose.

  A different more defined head scanned the room until it settled on me. Colors solidified as the eyes darkened to a deep navy blue, the skin faded to a silvered sea green and the long, sleek purple hair floated in an invisible wind.

  A soft wonder-filled female voice said, “Sa?”

  Cyril put himself in front of the new head. “Yes, my Nut—she is grown.”

  My thoughts were reeling. Was this my mother? I remembered the word ‘sa’ and the vague well of memory I could feel buzzing in the back of mind said I had heard it daily a long, long time ago. Dominic put an arm around me and I leaned into him so hard one of his feet slid against the concrete floor. He didn’t let go. Tears pricked and a strange longing filled me.

  I choked out, “Let me see my mother, Cyril.”

  Cyril’s body sagged into a low bow. “I did not expect you would sense my probe. Will the others not detect this communication? I do not wish to call attention to you.”

  Cyril straightened and turned his body in profile. The illumination exaggerated his expression of unease. I met my mother’s deep blue eyes. No words would come for me. She didn’t have a name I knew.

  The emotional stalemate was broken when she fluttered her eyes closed. Her full lips and wide mouth sank toward her jaw on one side. The purple flowing locks stilled then gathered around her neck.

  “Yes, they search for the breach. We have but moments.”

  Cyril’s words came out in a rush, “Do you know of my son?”

  She smiled as she fluttered her lashes open. “He is safe with me for now. I have hidden your sa in my harem. Christophe has been most…enlightening.”

  Dominic sucked in a breath.

  Cyril’s voice deepened with careful disapproval, “I appreciate your…care of my son, my Nut, but Christophe does not belong where he is. Will you help return him to me?”

  Black cracks began to appear on her cheeks and her gaze filled with static. “They come.”

  A quick slash of Cyril’s fingers, a quiet hiss, as if a bucket of water had been thrown on a campfire, and then my ‘mother’ was gone in a cloud of nothingness as the room went pitch black. What kind of creep had a harem, uh, gross? Relief swelled. Christophe was alive!

  Dominic put a warm palm to my jaw, forcing my gaze to meet his.

  “It’ll be okay, Zena. Somehow we’ll get Christophe home safe.”

  I cupped his knuckles and let the fear, anger and worry flow in a hot river from deep inside my soul. My chin trembled and my chest hitched. At the moment, life was just too damn much. His other hand made a frame around my face as he used a thumb to wipe away a tear. Dominic’s lips on mine sent a jolt of fire through my heart and a ravenous hunger made me lock my fingers in his cool curling hair.

  The world’s problems ceased to exist.

  17 MIND YOUR HEAD

  Dominic twisted his grip into my ponytail as we held on to each other with a desperation only truly sad people can know. I was under no illusions this kiss was a confession of his undying devotion or love. Sometimes you just need to know the world isn’t all bad. This brief interlude was honest human goodness neither of us could let pass.

  Stomps on the stairs indicated Cyril’s egress to the library above.

  I’d forgotten anything else existed. No shame bloomed but the uncontrollable need to connect disappeared. My fingers slid free of Dom’s tangled hair as he cupped my shoulders to stare into my eyes. His abused lips were shining in the dim light from the stairwell. Mine were probably in the same state. I had an urge to wipe my sleeve over the bottom half of my face.

  Voice threaded with emotions so raw I decided to pretend they didn’t exist and tackle reality for a sec, I said, “We should go up.”

  Dominic ran his palms down the outside of my arms. His neck tilted to take in our exit then he hugged his stomach as if he were cold.

  Teeth clenched, he whispered, “I don’t understand a lot of things about who and what you are, Zena. Cyril’s not one to inspire trust or share but we need him to get Christophe back from that strange woman you think is your mother. As mystifying as this all may be for me, I know it’s worse for you.”

  My fingers shook as I caressed my kiss-swollen lips with the pads of my fingers. I ended up with a hand to a hot cheek while I walked toward the bottom step and escape. No response was the only sane option. I’d loved Dominic since childhood and I couldn’t say with words what whipped my soul to imagined heights and crushed it at the same time.

  Yet Christophe was my priority over anything else. Well, that and survival.

  When I made it to the top it was like entering normality and the memory of the bright swirling colors on the wall below became an unnerving dream. Cyril was high up on a ladder, all the way in the farthest corner of the library, hanging by an arm and a precariously placed foot as he snagged a dust covered book that was almost too wide to grip one handed. I crossed to the bottom rungs of the rolling apparatus and kicked down the wheel locks Cyril had forgotten to engage.

  “What are you doing?”

  He piped in a pseudo cheerful voice, “Mind your head, Bozena!”

  The massive tome zipped by to land with a sonic boom. A fine plume of particulate puffed high enough for me to cover my nose and hold my breath. No one had read this volume in ages. I knelt and smoothed away the film of filth over swooping gilded letters. At least it was written in English, albeit antiquated, but still decipherable to the likes of me. The title read “A Different Kettle of Fish”, surprising a laugh out of me.

  Cyril slid down the ladder sides so fast he stumbled into the dismount. A hard palm leaned on my head so I used the invasion of my body space to grasp his wrist. And to get the extra weight off my neck because it hurt.

  “Was that woman my mother?”

  He flipped his forearm in a quick twist then grabbed my hand in his. Cyril’s deep-set eyes were filled with worry. A stray eyebrow hair, longer than the rest, poked upward like an antennae and I had an urge to rip it out. The familiar feeling of power surged but this time I didn’t panic. A deep breath in, and a deep breath out until warmth flooded my joints. No electric blue rib cage sprouted and Cyril’s hand in mine did nothing more than sweat. My father squeezed my fingers too tight as he jerked his head to look behind me. I could hear Dom’s quiet, sure steps as he approached.

  Cyril sneered at Dominic as he commanded, “Read this, Bozena. After you have finished it from cover to cover then and only then may you ask me questions.”

  He aimed a finger at Cyril’s nos
e. “No, I think not. You have something up your sleeve.”

  Cyril’s hand crackled with unseen energy. Pain lanced through my skull from temple to temple and I cried out my agony. Every muscle in my body contracted and my throat closed as if I were having an allergic reaction. Hard wood floors are so named for good reason because when my body slumped sideways the landing was by no means gentle.

  Next I knew the silhouettes of three heads were over me and my vision wouldn’t clear no matter how many times I blinked. One of the dark blob outlines had spiked hair and the other two shoulder-length waves.

  A voice I knew well asked, “What did you do to her, putos? See what happens when you ditch me—nothing but trouble—that’s what!”

  Cyril lashed back, “She’ll be fine, you little idiot, it was an accident.”

  I coughed and rolled onto my stomach. A gentle hand touched my shoulder then got my defeated, sagging ponytail out of my way.

  Dom asked, “Are you gonna throw up, Zena?”

  It was a struggle to sit. My gaze fell on Izzy. She collapsed to her knees and leaned in close.

  I whispered at the floor, avoiding Iz’s eyes, “I thought you were never coming back…?”

  “Eff an A, Z! Dirty mind tricks aren’t enough to make me forget you. You’re my chica. Plus, these fools aren’t taking very good care of you.”

  I couldn’t see her face but I knew she’d be staring daggers at Cyril and Dom.

  A rough grating in the back of my throat made my voice hoarse, “How did you get past the gate?”

  Cyril answered this time, “Rowena let her in.”

  18 BOMBSHELL

  Standing with her hip cocked, body bent at the waist as she peered into the black stairwell, Rowena remarked, “Is this your personal gateway to hell, Cyril? Has Lucifer finally called in the marker on your soul or some such bullshit?”

  My vision was still blurred but I could make out enough of my stepmother’s form to bring back all the old feelings of my childhood. She waved one hand in an elegant sweep as a counterpoint to her insulting questions. Rowena had on tight jeans, spiked suede boots, and enough exposed makeup-dusted cleavage spilled from her low neckline to get out of twenty speeding tickets.