by Zoe Forward
He put his head on the table, laughing hard. He swiped his eyes and choked out, “Gods, I needed this…a minion of hell. I rather like the sound of that.”
“So, what does it mean? Really?”
He halted the laughter. “You are, of course, correct that this discussion calls for seriousness. You have grasped it. The upright triangle represents the gods’ realm versus the inverted triangle representing the physical or human realm. I am marked as a guardian of the human realm.”
Laughter bubbled from her, releasing the pressure of the past few hours. “So simple. Hey, you want some juice or something from the fridge?”
She jumped up and leaned into the gigantic stainless steel refrigerator. A caress slid across her ass. She whirled, orange juice carton in hand.
His large hands framed her face. In Egyptian he murmured, “Intelligent. And beautiful.”
Her heart contracted. His shimmering copper eyes stole her breath. Desire rushed through her body, tightening muscles in anticipation. She’d been starved for a connection with another. With him. She craved it with every fiber of her being.
He grabbed the juice and set it on the counter. She sighed and leaned into him, her arms wound around his neck. The position raised the hem of the sweater, which he took advantage of by sliding his hand around her belly, and lifted her, balancing her against the refrigerator. Her legs naturally parted for him to step between. She whispered, “You know, I didn’t put on my underwear.”
“Temptress.” He smiled as his hand smoothed the skirt outside her left thigh until he found its edge and slowly lifted.
She pulled his head toward her, unable to wait another minute for his mouth to be on hers. Her tongue pushed into the warm heat of his mouth and stroked. A shudder passed through him.
“Damn it, can’t anyone in this house find a bedroom?” a man boomed behind Dakar.
Dakar’s mouth left hers with a growl.
She moaned at its loss, tumbling hard from a cloud of lust. She peeked around Dakar to find Nate glowering at them from the entrance. Her face burned umpteen shades of red.
Nate fumed. “First, the medical ward has become a crapshoot with Kira and Ashor. I mean, three weeks ago I saw things I wish I could erase from my brain. And now...you know what, if you’d just throw me a beer, I’ll leave and start knocking before I enter any frigging rooms. I mean, Christ…the kitchen?”
Dakar let Shay slide down him. She mutely pulled open the refrigerator and plucked out a long-neck.
Dakar tossed it to Nate. “You need a woman.”
Nate twisted off the beer cap and rolled his eyes. “Not you too. Christian and Ethan...er Khyan, and now you? Why doesn’t anyone bug Khyan about his abstinence?”
Dakar cocked his head and stared intently at Nate for a few long seconds. He whispered to Shay in Egyptian, “He found her or at least must’ve been near her.”
“Who’s her?” Shay whispered back.
“His woman. But he’s probably too newly inducted to understand why his body rejects just any woman. He can only be with her.”
“What the hell are you two whispering about? You know what, I’m outta here.” He pushed out of the kitchen.
Shay said, “I’m not really an exhibitionist. A little PDA’s okay, though. Can we go somewhere else?”
“What’s PDA?”
“How did you manage to jump from pirate attire times to now?” Her finger traced beneath his shirt, along his jeans top. His lower abs flexed beneath her touch.
“Are you trying to torture the answers out of me?”
She couldn’t stop her smug smile. “Is it working? Do you have a power that lets you jump times…time travel?”
“No. I was trapped somewhere for a few centuries.”
“Where?”
“Purgatory. The Middle Realm.”
She blanched. “That never sounded like a fun place from what I read.”
“It was hell. And we will leave it at that.”
“What were you doing there? Did you get in trouble and the gods sent you there as punishment or something?”
“I soul-locked Djoser to keep him there. ’Tis the place where daemons reside when not in this realm. But I remained there while Djoser escaped.”
“How were you freed?”
“I didn’t. They…the gods released me.”
She pulled his face to hers. “I’m glad.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Dakar stood with Khyan and Ashor in the dimly lit side of the Asheville airport hanger. He resisted squirming in the black tactical outfit that he’d been forced to don for this meeting. Ashor had decided Javen would’ve scared the shit out of the humans at this meeting, and he was therefore relegated to the car.
“We’re working with a special team on this one, Astrid,” Kane said. He pulled at the collar of the shirt beneath his tactical vest. Kane’s gaze darted his way, and then slid over Ashor and Khyan.
“Where are they from?” Astrid had her hands on her hips. “Why the hell is the guy from Costa Rica here?”
“I believe they’re a covert European Interpol-type team or something.”
Dakar squinted at Kane who fidgeted as if something had triggered his internal warning system. Most humans with military training exhibited this level of anxiety around magi. Intuitively, they recognized the magi as warriors they couldn’t compete with on any level.
Astrid eyed them in obvious displeasure. “Covert Euros? They look like contract mercs to me. So, what exactly is their role in this?”
Kane cleared his throat. “Assistance.”
She scrunched up her nose and squinted. “This is our fucking mission. I’m calling the General. He’ll get these assholes off this.”
Kane caught her arm and pulled the cell phone out of her fist. “They’re here to stay. Trust me when I say we need these guys.”
“What’s really going on here? Level with me.”
“That team has intel to indicate this cult group has one of our lost boys. This may be the only survivor, and right now may be our only shot at getting one back. These guys have been working on a case with this group for a long time. They’re experts.”
“Why do we need them?”
“As far as I can tell, Hashishins have tentacles high up in government. So, we can’t trust anyone in-country. But I guarantee that team over there is clean. They hate these guys. This Hashishin group is dangerous and I’m not talking drug cartel, torture, weapons-type shit. They’re into snakes, poisons, and magik.”
“Magik? Oh, please. Tell me you don’t buy that bullshit.”
He met her gaze without blinking. “Yes, magik. Voodoo stuff.”
“I think you watched one too many sci-fi movies. All right, whatever. But they need to hang back and let us take the lead on this.”
Kane subtly nodded to Ashor, signaling their time here was over. Kane would contact them later to organize the raid of the Hashishins’ compound. Ashor led their silent exit without so much as a comment.
When they entered the parking lot en route to the SUV, Kane yelled, “Wait up.”
Ashor halted. The others pulled open their doors. Dakar eavesdropped, curious.
“You’ve got problems. I picked up a thread going into Homeland Security last night that named you guys as a primary interest for plotting terrorist activity. Or at least the informer suggests you’re planning something. Bogus, no doubt. But someone is planting crap about you guys.”
“Did they inform where we reside right now?”
“Yes. You should get Scott to do what he can discreetly to smooth it over…you know, hack into their system or spread goody-goody bullshit about you guys online. He’ll know what to do. Maybe even relocate again.”
Ashor’s brow furrowed. “We will check into it.”
“With Markus being in there, well…I’d like to get him back in one piece,” Kane said.
“It’s on our agenda,” Ashor said.
Kane nodded. “Thanks.” He pivoted and left
.
As Javen put the SUV in gear, Ashor put his cell to his ear. “Scott, Kane just told me Homeland Security had an informant claiming we’re doing terrorist shit. See what you can find out. But do not get caught. You got that? In the meantime, have Rick start packing. Between the snakes and Hashishins up our ass, and now U.S. government, we’re moving to Mexico.” There was a pause. “Yeah, good call on buying that estate in Campeche.” Another pause. “I know it’ll be hot as hell this time of the year. I want us packed and there within the next few days. I also want to know how the hell they found us so fast. Do a check on all our equipment for tracking devices.” There was a long pause and then Ashor cursed. “You fix it?” Ashor hung up and cursed again.
“What’s up?” Khyan asked.
“Hashishins somehow put some spyware on Scott’s computer. Must be how they found us.”
“We better make sure he didn’t get bespelled in the process,” Khyan suggested.
“And you can do that?” Ashor asked, hopeful.
“Not very well. We need Cy…the spell keeper.”
“All right, we’re working on that.”
“Another relocation,” Javen stated.
“You never liked New Orleans to begin with,” Ashor said.
“But Mexico is drug-lord infested,” Javen replied.
“Like you’re not looking forward to any fights that might come your way,” Khyan chimed in.
Javen smiled while his eyes remained glued to the road. “I could do Mexico.”
****
Shay shifted from one foot to the other in front of the Folk Art Center on the Blue Ridge Parkway just outside Asheville. She peeled her shirt from her back and fanned it for a few seconds.
Dakar hissed air through his teeth as he peered at her from his concealed location in the dense foliage. Ancient trees swayed in a breeze that did little more than move hot, stale air. The humidity was thick. If he squinted, he imagined he actually saw water suspended in the air.
A group of rowdy teenagers looked to be making the worst of a family outing as they shot spray string at each other in a charade fight, running toward their car.
Shay touched the bandage over her left forehead and then hugged herself.
This plan sucked. But damn it…what choice did he have? “I cannot do this,” Dakar growled. He slammed his back against a gigantic tree.
“Want some?” Javen asked from his position against a neighboring tree trunk, puffing a hand-rolled. He held the joint Dakar’s way. “Might chill you out a bit.”
Dakar shook his head.
Khyan said, “We shouldn’t be here. Should’ve dropped her off and left. You’re gonna go psycho. First hint of someone touching her and you’ll lose it. I guarantee.”
“As if you would let your senariai out of your sight once you found her.”
“True that.”
“Detain me.” Dakar’s body trembled with the need to bolt. To her. His skin went cold with sweat.
Both Javen and Khyan body slammed him into the tree trunk, each pinning a shoulder.
Javen grunted out, “Why don’t we…leave?”
Dakar said, “Hell, no. That would require we pass her to get out. Not a good plan.”
“Good point,” Javen muttered. “Looks like her meeting is about to get started.”
A tall suit-clad man with skeletal facial structure approached Shay. Based on her blanched expression, she knew the bum and wasn’t thrilled. They could hear through the trees concealing them.
“Hey, Shay. Stephen Levin came looking for you down here. Knowing that we’re related and all, he phoned me when he got here. He’s really worried about you.” His smile was all about greeting a friend.
“Brant. Why am I not surprised you’re here. Where’s Dr. Levin? He sounded really stressed yesterday. And he didn’t know we’re related. So cut the crap.”
“We offered him a place to stay at the Sanctum. I’ll take you to see him. Ready to go?”
“Why should I trust you? Your boss and I didn’t exactly hit it off.”
Brant’s face went from its congenial mask to nasty. “Get in the car.” He pointed at his navy sedan.
Shay’s eyes darted to where Dakar was hidden. The fear and regret reflected there called to his soul. But then her face glazed into resolve. In his skull he heard her voice. It’s going to be all right.
Had he heard her clearly in his mind? Or had he imagined it?
“Or what?” Shay countered Brant.
“I’ll make this very unpleasant.”
“Ah, that’s the stepbrother I remember finally showing himself. I’m not feeling the love. So, I vote no on the whole getting-in-the-car with you.”
He didn’t reach for her. Perhaps Djoser had given him a little crash course on bochnoris with a clear don’t-touch-her warning. He brandished a small bottle from his suit jacket and sprayed.
She swiped her face to remove the residue. Seconds later she collapsed.
Dakar lurched toward unconscious Shay, dragging Khyan and Javen.
“Told you this idea was whacked,” Khyan whispered as he and Javen pushed Dakar backwards, but they were in a losing battle. Dakar pulled like a bull with its eye on a red flag. Every muscle strained toward his target.
Khyan ordered in ancient Egyptian, “I command thee, Nakhti, restrain him.” Dakar’s bochnori manifested over his face. Dakar sat hard on the ground gripping his head.
He groaned, “Khyan, tell it to cease.”
“Not until you get your shit under control. There’s nothing we can do at this point. She made her choice.”
“I cannot allow her to be harmed.”
Javen said, “Have you considered that perhaps allowing her to do this is what that shaman meant by doing the opposite of instinct? That he didn’t mean to kill her?”
Dakar stopped fighting his bochnori to glare at Javen. “You are an ass.” He looked to where the sedan pulled away and added softly, “But you might be right.”
Javen smiled smugly. “Have you ever allowed her near Djoser during any lifetime?”
“Never.”
“Well, this should be interesting.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Cy back-hugged the corner nearest the door hinge, the last corner to be viewed when one of them entered. The denial part of his mind thought the position allowed him an advantage. The get-real side of his mind laughed.
What he wouldn’t give for a watch. Had it been five hours or ten minutes since he’d been tossed into this closet-like cell? A holding cell for future torture.
His stomach knotted until it burned with each breath. He probably had an ulcer. Waiting was a part of the torture game, not that knowing that little fact helped. He freely admitted he was bone-ass scared about what Djoser planned. Would it be torture, snakes, poison, spells, or something new?
What he wouldn’t give to go back to amnesia-land and be back at school. Soccer practice sounded pretty good, even if he did get the shit kicked out of him by Bradford and his cronies on a regular basis. That life was over.
This one might be too. Soon.
Panic rose again in his chest. He was not going to come undone. All he had in this situation was himself. His mind had to be his weapon. It was the one thing Djoser couldn’t take from him.
The dark room was lit only by light from under the door that shifted eerily. A girl’s voice echoed in his mind, soft and pleading. Oh God, help me, please. I don’t want to play.
It was her. The girl whose music saved him last time against Djoser. She had to be his senariai. He could speak to her telepathically. And her music was power. Each incarnation the gods enabled her to weave magik with music.
Cy thought to her, What is going on? Why do you need to play?
My instructor…he’ll hurt me, if I don’t practice. Wants me to play Chopin. I can’t. Don’t want to since Da died last week.
Let me play with you. We can do this together. Something slammed against his back. He cranked his head around. N
othing but the brick wall sat behind him. Something hit her? Anger swelled. Did someone just strike you?
Yes. Oh lord, it’s going to get worse, if I don’t get on with it. Who are you and why are you in my head? Am I crazy?
I’m real. You’re not crazy. Pain detonated down his back again. Do you know Rhapsody on a Theme?
Rachmaninoff? I’ve never played it. Not allowed. It’s not a classic.
Have you heard it?
Yes. It’s a short piece.
Good, then we can play this.
He’ll get mad.
He can’t hurt you, if we play together.
It’s too hard. I need the music.
Close your eyes. I’ll play the orchestra side, and the start of your part. You just join me.
Cy knew this piece by heart and had subconsciously hummed it his entire life. For some reason, the melody comforted him. They had never played this piece together in past lifetimes since it had been written in the twentieth century. And they hadn’t been allowed together for a very, very long time. Her gift of music enabled her to play anything she heard once.
He started the intro chords of the piano. Come on. I know you can’t resist.
Then she played as if reading the music out of his head.
He loved the melody of this song. It spoke to something deep in his soul. But to hear her play it with so much emotion…amazing. He smiled so wide it hurt.
White-hot power energized his cells as her solo swelled to a climax. He added the orchestral part, accompanying her in his mind.
Her laughter echoed in his head—the sound of unadulterated bliss. For the first time in this lifetime, he knew joy. If he lived through this encounter with Djoser, he would spend the rest of his life searching for her.
He maestroed his orchestra to compete with her swelling chords.
She pounded the keys to complement the intensity of his orchestra, never one to be outdone. He doesn’t like this. He’s threatening me again.
