Visions of Fire and Ice (The Petiri)

by Teresa D'Amario

  “Just what?”

  Ramose glowered at the slender man before him. No human would ever guess Darius to be over four thousand years old. He didn’t look a day over thirty. Tall, like most Petiri, he had powerful shoulders and a narrow waist. Healthy, strong muscles gleamed when he stripped his shirt to work out. But he wasn’t a fighter.

  At last, Ramose sighed and shook his head, grabbed his own towel from the rack, and wiped the sweat from his skin, shoving his black hair behind his ears. “I wish I could explain it. I just know…” He dropped to the cushioned bench, the blade clattering to the floor beside him. “Something is changing.”

  Darius collapsed beside him and leaned back against the wall, mopping the sweat from his brow. “I don’t pretend to understand your premonitions, even though they’ve never led us astray. But the last time you were this vague, it related specifically to you, not everyone.”

  “No. Not this time.” Ramose shook his head. “I feel it. While whatever it is may start with me, it’s not going to end with me. I just can’t…” He tried to pinpoint the sensations running through is brain. “I can’t seem to decide if it’s a good or a bad thing.”

  Darius laughed. He let his hands drop into his lap, resting his head against the wall. The sound of his laughter echoed in the gym. “You mean,” he said through smirks, “you demanded this entire training session without warning and you don’t even know if there’s a threat?”

  Ramose glared at the other man. “If there’s one thing I know,” he said, “you are in danger. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but, one day, your life will depend on this training.”

  Even as his words spoke of the future, a premonition vibrated, like a stringed instrument along his spine. He bolted to his feet.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” asked Darius. “You can’t just beat me to a pulp then leave.”

  Ramose stopped and met Darius’ brown eyes, and then he knew. “To Cairo. Tonight, it begins.”

  Chapter Two

  Frustration gnawed at the edge of Ramose’s mind, eroding the layer of control he cherished after thousands of years of practice. He leaned against the back wall of the worn ticket booth, ignored by milling tourists. With hands in his pockets, he crossed his ankles in repose, and he stared out at the pyramids.

  Three shining beacons of ancient Earth’s technology. Powerful structures reaching for the stars pointing to distant worlds. To his own world. The detailed and exact structures were proof of an ancient world’s science and math, measured to the smallest fraction of a millimeter.

  The massive tombs were guarded by the enigmatic eyes of the sphinx--a structure like no other on this world. Yet Ramose always believed the face it bore, even before its destruction, reminded him of someone. No matter how hard he searched for the answer, it eluded him.

  When he’d first laid eyes on Giza, he’d had hope for the future. Hope that technology would continue to grow, developing to match the Petiri, giving them all they needed to return home swiftly. He’d been wrong.

  Progress had halted in what people now considered ancient times. Instead of moving forward, they’d slipped backward, slamming the earth back into prehistory, the discoveries of Ancient Egypt lost to all but the Petiri. The mysteries of this once vibrant, ancient culture now lay in ruins, visited by tourists and scientists alike.

  The longer he stared, the more his nerves drew taut. The hairs on the back of Ramose’s neck crawled with a familiar sensation, and his muscles tightened.

  Heat burned its way up his spine like a hot desert wind.

  Amunkha.

  He’d sensed Amunkha since the day the younger man was born. Now, thousands of years later, Amunkha had changed. The innocence was gone, leaving the rancid tinge of evil.

  Ramose let his gaze wander, hiding a grimace of distaste. He needed to end this cat and mouse game he played with the other Petiri, but he couldn’t seem to take that final action. Memories of the sparkling youth Amunkha had been got in the way. Memories which could mean Ramose’s death. The two were forever intertwined, forever aware of one another’s presence. A bond which dug deep into their hearts and minds. A bond Ramose detested, with death the only severance.

  He hadn’t expected to sense the man here. Amunkha, like Ramose, didn’t bother with tourist attractions. Perhaps the premonition Ramose had felt was about Amunkha and not the coming change in their lives. For where his enemy stepped, havoc soon followed. And death. It was what Amunkha did best: destroy the living. Sometimes, he destroyed their bodies, and, sometimes, he destroyed their souls. Even worse, sometimes, he destroyed both.

  Ramose kept still, his eyes searching the faces passing by. Wasted motion gave away secrets, and, often, secrets were the only weapon at hand. Still, he faded into the crowd, unnoticed by any but the seasoned observer. No face resembled the man he expected.

  Around him, the tourists milled, chatting excitedly, pointing at the pyramids now lit with spotlights, their stone skins shining gold beneath the yellowed light. Men, women and children, excitement filling the air. He smirked. Only humans would think a laser light show on the pyramids was the height of their miserable technology. Child’s play. A simple manipulation of light used to draw images on the stone pyramid walls for people’s amusement.

  As he studied the crowd, Amunkha’s presence faded, the sensation draining from his body like a leaking tap. Silence rang along the shared connection Ramose so detested.

  If only the compulsion which drew him to the pyramids tonight would wash away so easily. The sense of danger abated, but the premonition of change continued.

  * * * *

  Tamara tapped her finger on the counter of the refreshment stand tucked away in the back corner of the foyer. People milled about the small, crowded ticket lobby, waiting for the laser show to begin. She grimaced. The problem with visiting tourist areas meant there were an awful lot of tourists. But since this was her first day in country, she had to start somewhere. The hotel clerk had insisted the light show would be the perfect introduction to Egypt’s tourism. Just how much of a cut of the proceeds he got for the recommendation, she didn’t know.

  The man beside her flashed a smile, revealing a mouthful of straight, white teeth, offset by perfectly coiffed brown hair. His clothes were pressed, not a wrinkle in sight. For a tourist, he looked well put together. Except for the smell. Instead of wearing cologne, his cologne wore him, and Tamara fought to keep from cringing at the overpowering scent.

  With a polite nod of her head, she turned back to the waiter at the counter.

  A passerby jostled her, knocking her off balance. She stumbled into perfect smile guy beside her.

  He grinned, catching her in his arms. “Well, beauty,” he drawled, “it’s not often a pretty girl falls for me within seconds of laying eyes on me.”

  Don’t touch me! The words almost slipped from Tamara’s mouth. She bit her lip and jerked from his hold, straightened her shirt, and, with an impatient hand, shoved a wisp of brown hair from her face.

  “Thanks,” she said. She hated crowds, and she especially hated men’s hands touching her without her permission.

  The smell of his beer-laden breath blended with the overpowering cologne, and she fought to hide the shudder of disgust. Beer. Man. Never a good combination.

  The waiter plopped the three bottles of water she’d ordered in front of her, and she paid him.

  “Please, allow me.” Arms appeared on either side of her, trapping her against the counter. Mr. Perfect Teeth.

  Every muscle in her body tensed. A trickle of fear dripped into her stomach, but Tamara shoved it away. “Let me go,” she demanded through clenched teeth.

  He lowered his head, and his hot, beer-laden breath brushed against the side of her neck. “Now, don’t be that way, sugah. We’re in a far away land, where no one knows us. I’m alone. You’re alone. We could be alone together.” His hands slid to her waist, and he pulled her back hard against himself.

  Tamara gasped then s
huddered in revulsion. It took a special kind of pervert to think he could get away with mauling a woman he didn’t know in a crowded room. A man who singled out the victims he thought were the most docile. The ones least likely to scream in a crowd.

  No.

  The word echoed inside her head, and she straightened her shoulders. She would not be a victim. She’d been there, lived that life, and had had more than enough of it. Anger burned hot inside her, sizzling through her cells and into her hands.

  Her palms stretched on the cool countertop. Steam rose in tiny tendrils from beneath her fingers. She lifted her hand, dismayed at the burn marks she’d left behind. She needed to get control of her talent.

  “Come on, beauty,” he said again. “Let’s have a little fun.”

  Irritation ignited into fury. Her hands trembled with the urge to set fire to his clothes, or maybe to that too pretty brown hair. But there were people around. Using her gift in public could get her in big trouble, especially in a foreign country.

  “This is your last warning. Back off.”

  He pressed closer in answer. “How ’bout just one kiss? Hmm?”

  Tamara cursed beneath her breath. Then, again, maybe the time had come for this bastard to get what he wanted. She shoved back just enough to force him to step away and then spun around to face him, a fake smile plastered on her face. All the while, she reached deep inside her mind, dragging the heat sizzling in her blood upward, pushing and pulling it, wrapping it into a tight package in her body. “Just one kiss,” she agreed.

  He gave a sloppy, drunken grin.

  With a quick motion, she grabbed his head, her hands on either cheek, and drew his face to hers. With her lips pressed to his, she waited until he opened for her. With surgical precision, she thrust heat from her body into his. Through his mouth and into his lungs. He struggled, his eyes widening in shock at the sudden influx of heat. Her hands sizzled against the cooler flesh of his cheeks, and she knew she’d left her mark.

  His hands grappled until he found her shoulders, and he shoved her back.

  She released him, widening her eyes. “What’s wrong? I thought you wanted a kiss.”

  The man stumbled backwards, a hand rubbing over his reddened lips, the other touching the red handprint she’d left on his face. His eyes were wide with confusion. “What are you?”

  “I don’t understand?” Tamara tried to tamp down the sudden satisfaction threatening to explode into a grin. She shouldn’t have enjoyed his lesson quite so much, but, damn it, he’d asked for it.

  He backed further, bouncing off the crowd like a pinball off bumpers. He turned to run from her. He dropped his hands, displaying the blisters now forming upon his lips.

  She stifled a sigh in disgust at her actions. Reality always intruded. She could have hurt him seriously. True, most of the energy she’d used came from her lips and fingers, not in her breath, but if she’d pushed in too much heat, she could have killed him.

  “Honey, are you alright?” An elderly woman stood next to her, concern written in her features.

  Tamara jerked her attention off the man who’d accosted her. “I’m fine, thank you.” She snatched her bottles of water and hurried to the outside deck.

  What have I done?

  * * * *

  A whisper of power fluttered in Ramose’s mind. Like butterfly wings, energy brushed softly against his flesh, teasing just out of reach. He turned, his eyes searching the origin of the power. A woman stormed from the foyer to the observation deck. Anger burned from her in a nearly visible shower of sparks. She looked young, not much older than fifteen earth years, but instinct told him she was older. Much older.

  She dropped into a chair beside a young couple, slamming three bottles of water onto the table. Even in profile, he could tell her mouth was tense, her brow furrowed.

  The other woman looked equally young, though a diamond wedding ring set glittered on her left hand. The man beside her appeared older, in his late twenties, his blonde hair matching that of his wife. The fingers of one hand linked with hers, his thumb caressing her hand.

  The young wife brushed blonde hair from her face and, with a concerned look, spoke to the other. “What’s wrong?”

  “A pervert decided he was going to cop a feel.”

  “Are you all right?” The married woman leaned forward, worry etched in the sudden furrowing of her brow. So they were friends at least.

  “Oh, I’m fine. And I don’t think he’s going to be putting his hands on a woman without her permission for a long time.”

  “What did you do, Tamara?”

  Tamara. Ramose tested the name in his mind. It fit, somehow. Not too delicate, and not too strong. Interesting. The tone of the other woman’s voice drew Ramose deeper into the conversation. Instead of righteous concern like he’d expected, her tone held admonishment. Curiosity overwhelmed propriety, and he continued to eavesdrop, using every bit of his powerful Petiri hearing to catch every nuance of their voices. Important voices. Though he didn’t know why. And one of those voices played his body the way a feminine hand played a harp. Soothing, yet arousing, despite the tinge of anger, mixed with… fear?

  “Let’s just say he got a little hot under the collar by the time I was finished.”

  The other woman leaned forward, her voice dropping to a hoarse whisper. “You can’t do that kind of thing, Tamara. What if you hurt him? Or worse, what if someone saw?”

  “Julie, I’m not going to let that pervert touch me and not pay for it. I didn’t hurt him. Not bad, anyway.”

  “Where is he?”

  Tamara nodded toward the back corner of the observation deck. Several young men stood in the back. He knew the instant he laid eyes on the man who she spoke about. Well-dressed and groomed, he sported a red mark in the shape of feminine handprints on his face. A burn! Surprise rippled through Ramose. She held the power of fire. Dangerous. Deadly. Both to others, as well as him

  “Oh, my God,” whispered the one called Julie. “Tamara, you left a mark! What were you thinking?”

  “I was thinking I didn’t like his hands all over me.”

  Ramose followed their gaze toward the man in question. Incensed, the human male motioned toward Tamara.

  “The little bitch must have had some kind of heater in her palm.”

  Curiosity fluttered inside him, but that wasn’t all. The ice he held in his veins crept down his fingers, aching to send itself at a man who had tried to touch the female. Anger. Hatred.

  Control. He needed control. For thousands of years, he’d been known to his people as the man of ice, both in gifts and emotions. He’d held himself in check for so long he barely understood what was happening. He cocked his head, observing the humans. Now, this was a scientific problem outside of his reach. Why? Why would he hate a man who had nothing to do with him? His jaw threatened to crack under the pressure of clenching his teeth to maintain control. His fingers tightened into a fist, and he swallowed the urge to slam his fist into the burned man’s face struck him.

  He sucked in a harsh breath. The violent urge made no sense. Not over a woman he’d never met. And a human at that.

  He took deep breaths, forcing his muscles to relax before he gave himself away. He turned his attention back to the women.

  “You need to be careful, Tamara.” Another surge of power, this one different from the first woman.

  They both had power! Who were these women? What were these women?

  The young woman tossed a hand out in apparent exasperation. “It’s not like I asked for him to do what he did, Julie.”

  “That’s not what I meant. Something is going to happen tonight. You’ll meet someone. Two someone’s actually. One you can trust, and the other you can’t. You need to be careful.”

  By the gods! She could see the future.

  Ramose narrowed his eyes, studying the two young women. One held the power of fire. The other had the ability to see the future. Was this a new turn in human evolution? He struggled to kee
p from smiling. Gods, how he hoped so. Then he and his crew wouldn’t have to hide their own skills from the world.

  He analyzed both women for a moment before his attention focused entirely on the one called Tamara. She drew him. Like the Sphinx, her face held a familiar curve. The gentle tilt of her lips, the warm brown hair. Everything about her plucked a chord deep inside. For the first time in centuries, the gentle stir of arousal swept through his blood. She glanced in his direction, and he could almost swear he saw flames leaping within in her eyes.

  The artificial lights lowered, shrouding her face in shadows. From the corner of his eye, he saw the lasers dance upon the stone surface of the pyramids, drawing the shapes of a history long past. Yet the colors and images they drew paled in comparison to the luminescent quality of this woman’s complexion.

  The speakers exploded with its tinny music, and she jolted in her chair, spinning to look over her shoulder. The sharp glint of gold caught his eye. He narrowed his eyes, peering closer. A golden serpent wrapped around her bicep, its eyes glittering red in the darkness.

  A Napshua. Unbidden, irritation seeped through his blood. The symbol of his people, a Napshua, created of a special metal alloy from the world of Petiri, designed only for the person who wore it. At a glance, the armband resembled gold, but the special alloy held the mysteries of Petiri magick within, a magick few Petiri even understood. Once bonded, the Napshua took on special traits, offering the wearer its protection, enhancing the wearer’s natural magickal gifts. But Ramose knew every Petiri on this world, and, despite her control of one of the most difficult magickal elements, this woman wasn’t one of them.

  The asp sensed him and sharp, red eyes glittered in his direction. The magickal pull from the Napshua tugged at his psyche. It whispered in his mind, soft mystical sounds of dreams long dead. Of a world he hadn’t seen in thousands of years. Ramose shook his head, shoving the magick to the background. Who was she? What was she?