by Allie Burton
He just wanted to find all the oils, save Olivia, and save the world.
One step at a time. First, they needed to go back to Lombard Street. How would they dig up the bricks?
Jumping to his feet, he shook out his legs. He paced back and forth in front of the benches like a personal security guard. Until this point, she’d handled all the criminal details. Maybe it was time for him to step up.
The dark park was completely silent. The couple of homeless people were sleeping. No one else even walked around the perimeter.
Not completely quiet. He couldn’t stop a small smile as Olivia’s delicate snore sounded again. Her cheeks glowed in the fog-covered moon. She appeared soft and sweet. Two words she’d hate to hear describe her.
He slipped off his jacket and being careful not to touch her, he covered her and tucked the material in at the edges. He didn’t have the heart to wake her and inform her of his plan.
Pivoting, he headed out.
Chapter Twenty
Olivia
The park bench I’d napped on left me achy in places, but no more than the ache in my heart. Damp fog skittered over my skin causing shivers. A possible omen of things to come?
I didn’t believe in omens. Then again, I hadn’t believed in lost souls and powers when this quest began.
“Xander?” I glanced across the sidewalk.
He wasn’t sitting on the bench across the way.
I jerked to an upright position and the meager contents in my stomach swirled. “Xander?”
Couldn’t the guy sit still? My gaze swiveled around the park trying to spot his shape. I recognized his easily broad shoulders and fluid grace as he walked toward me and let out a breath. “Where did you go?”
“To get these.” He tugged two metal gardening tools from the backpack. “To dig up the bricks.”
My stomach settled. Good planning. But he’d left me alone.
“You just waltzed into a gardening store in the middle of the night?” The thought of being abandoned by him again caused sarcasm to leak out.
He jerked his chin in the direction of nearby homes. “I prowled around a couple of the gardens in the yards. See, I’d make a good thief.” His nod showed pride in his actions and knocked me down a peg.
Being a thief wasn’t a good thing. I’d influenced him in a negative way. I didn’t want him to become a thief like me.
Walking back to Lombard Street, clouds drifted around the moon but didn’t cross the path of light gleaming from the sky. The poetic description sounded more like Tut than me. The silence between us was deafening. Same for the silence between me and Xander. We’d always had so much to talk about and now, nothing. People always said when a relationship turned romantic you could no longer be friends. Xander and I had proved that without doubt.
Did one kiss signify a romance?
For me it had. But I wanted both the friendship and the romance.
I bit my lower lip trying to form an explanation in my mind. How did you tell a guy that while kissing, you were thinking how much you cared about him? And how that had led to the answer to the puzzle? If it didn’t make sense to me, how was it going to make sense to him?
I took a deep breath and blew out slowly. “I want you to know, I was thinking about you when we kissed.”
“Could’ve fooled me.” His pinched tone showed his pain.
Actually, I had fooled him even though I hadn’t meant to. “Maybe this is only how a girl’s mind works but I was thinking how my feelings zigzagged like—”
“Lombard Street.” His expression lightened like a light bulb had gone off in his head.
“Exactly.” Maybe he did get me after all. I put a hopeful, puppy-dog look on my face. “And it just sort of popped out of my mouth. I’m sorry.”
He glanced over and then down at his shoes as we walked. “I got angry because I didn’t expect the first time I kissed a girl she’d be doing puzzles in her head.”
So, he’d felt insecure. Like me. Unsure of what the kiss meant. It had been his first kiss, too. A slightly wicked thought came to mind. “What about a second time? Like a second at bat.”
His gaze flew to my face. “Second time?”
“Well, um, yeah.” I stumbled over my own words. “If you want to.”
“Do you want to?” His expression flashed confusion. “We are talking about kissing, right?”
“Yes.” I giggled like a real girly-girl, a completely foreign concept to me. “Too bad there’s no pond nearby.”
“I’ll find water for us to stand in soon. Real soon.” He winked before raising his gaze to the night sky. “Right now though, we should concentrate on the next step.”
My heart whooshed inside my ribcage, sprinting like a race. He wanted to kiss me again. A smile burst on my face. Tingles exploded on every inch of my skin. He liked me. “As long as you promise at the next sight of water, we make-up.”
And make out.
Reaching Lombard Street, we hiked up the brick road. The distinct pattern of the striking cobra glowed at night. Maybe because I knew where it was located or maybe because I now expected mystical things to happen, but the darker red brick shimmered. Finally, I could see what Xander had seen. I should retake one of those ink blot tests with my new powers. Maybe I’d pass.
The lights inside the neighboring houses were dark. The only glow came from streetlamps. Distant street traffic purred.
Peering at the bricks, I took one of the shovels and glanced around again. “Where should we start?” The sooner we started digging the sooner we could get out of here.
“Ancient Egyptians believed the number seven was lucky.” He crouched down across from me and counted up from the bottom of the cobra. “You count from the tip of the tongue.”
“Why the tip of the tongue?” I touched my tongue to my top lip.
His gaze tracked the movement as if entranced. He cleared his throat. “Just a guess.”
I tapped on each brick, counting to number seven. “Ready?”
“Let’s dig.” He shoved his shovel into the crack between the brick.
I did the same. Loosening the first brick on all sides, I used the sharp tip to pry out the brick. “Nothing here.”
“Here either.” He lifted his second brick and then started on his third.
“How many bricks make this pattern?” I estimated more than fifty but less than a hundred. Digging all of them out would take awhile. Time we didn’t have. A neighbor was bound to see us shortly.
My shovel scraped against the brick, scattering my nerves. “Any other lucky numbers in ancient Egyptian?”
He tapped a number and dug out the brick. His shovel clanged on metal. “I hit something.”
“A vessel?” I examined the hole he’d made.
He kept digging deeper and deeper and faster and faster. Dirt flew in every direction. “Definitely something here.”
He reached his hand in the hole, switching positions from side to side. “I got it.” His hand rose like a slow crane carrying a load. His fingers gripped a round-shaped object. “I think this is it.”
“Let me see.” I dropped my shovel with a slight clatter.
He held up the prize and twisted off the cap. The small golden vessel glinted in the moonlight. Holding it to his nose, he sniffed. “Myrrh. It’s a blood stimulant.”
“What do the hieroglyphics say?”
His gaze darted around. “Why don’t we put the bricks back and read this in a safer place.”
After tucking the vessel in his bag, he helped put the rest of the bricks in place.
“Right.” I picked my shovel back up and started scooping the extra dirt back in the hole. My thoughts weren’t on the task. I was thinking about the new vessel and what the next clue would be, feeling positive that together we could figure it out.
“Which oil have you found for me?” The smooth and familiar voice came from my right.
A tall man wearing a black designer leather jacket stood only a few feet away. His
high collar kept his face in shadow. Not a local cop. Or a white-robed Society member unless he was incognito—disguised like a normal person and not a mad man out to rule the world.
A prickling sensation crawled across my skin. Like an internal warning system the sharp pokes told me this guy was bad news. I got to my feet slowly, waiting for him to make a sudden move.
Two other darkly dressed men approached from the other side. Each of them wore a gold mesh glove on opposite hands. I didn’t think it was the new Michael Jackson look.
Xander picked up the shovel I dropped and stood. He stiffened beside me. His gaze traveled around assessing the danger.
I stepped closer to the backpack he’d left on the ground. Without words, I understood what he planned. He’d fight. I’d grab the bag and run.
Disagreeing wasn’t an option. Then, neither of us would get away. I didn’t like that he played hero, especially when I had the power at the tip of my fingertips. I’d stay close by in case he needed help.
“Hand over the oils.” The tall man held out his hand. He knew what he wanted and that we had it. He beamed showing his perfect white teeth.
The smile banged in my head. I searched my mind for where I’d seen him before, heard him before. Really tall, shiny white teeth, narrow face. My brain clicked with the answer. “You’re the homeless guy.”
Except he didn’t look homeless.
He still wore the cuffed pants but the ratty trench coat was gone replaced by an expensive-looking leather jacket.
“Ah, you remember me, Olivia.”
Dread dragged through my tummy. “How do you know my name?”
He took a menacing step forward. “How many oil vessels have you found? My informant told me you were snooping around the Transamerica Pyramid.”
The security guard at the tower.
“Are you a Society member?” Xander must not recognize the man from the secretive group.
“Not anymore.” The man laughed. “Which is why I slipped a tracker in the pants my homeless friends gave you.” He examined Xander’s clean jeans. “Except you changed clothes.”
“What do you want?” His expression hardened like Tut’s death mask. Xander looked like a fierce warrior.
A warrior willing to protect me, willing to fight for me.
A shiver ran up my spine and hit every single nerve ending.
“I want the oils. And I want Olivia.”
He wanted the oils we’d worked so hard to retrieve?
But more important than that…
He wanted me?
Cold ran through my veins like water surging in the San Francisco Bay. Every muscle in my body stiffened, the horror leaching into my bones. I recoiled from this man, this threat.
“At the park. How did you know I’d inherited the soul and not Xander?”
“I know many things, Olivia.” I didn’t like how he said my name like he owned it. Owned me.
“You didn’t know you couldn’t touch me.” Hah. I puffed out my chest. He couldn’t touch me at the park, and he couldn’t touch me now.
“I knew.” The tall man’s confidence grated. He sounded like Xander when we’d first met. “I just needed those street creatures to slow you down.”
In their weakened state, one of the homeless who touched me could’ve died. “Why didn’t you grab me when I got there? Why wait until I was leaving?”
“Miscalculation.” The tall man actually admitted a mistake. “When you carelessly started the fire, I knew you’d waste the power. My power.” He punched a fist into his left hand. “Then, you created the wave at the cliffs. More wasted power.”
I jerked my gaze from his head to his foot looking for a gun bulging from a pocket. “You shot at us.”
“At Xander.” The tall man’s gaze narrowed and glowered. “The saltwater ruined my gun.”
So, did that mean he didn’t have one now? Another image flashed in my brain. The tall guy with the gun by the loading dock at the museum.
“You were at the museum loading dock.” I scraped down a breath. “Who are you?”
“I’m Xander. The original Xander. Or one of them.”
I shot a glance at Xander, the real Xander, my Xander.
His eyes crinkled in confusion. His mouth twisted in a grimace. He stepped to my side, partially blocking me. “Excuse me?”
“Did you think you were the first boy the Society trained?” The fake, adult Xander’s laughter came out harsh and dry. His pointy nose appeared haughty. His stance suggested over-confidence. “The first boy to face disappointment when he learned he’d never receive Tut’s power?”
My Xander’s face paled. His entire body wavered like he was going to faint. “Who are you really?”
I willed him to stay upright. I needed him. He was my defender, my expert, my friend, maybe more.
“You may call me X. Soon I’ll have no need for even a single name.” His dark gaze flashed with glee, but also a light of vulnerability. Just like Xander, he’d expected to host Tut’s soul only to be disappointed.
Xander’s Adam’s apple moved up and down. His gaze pinpointed the man, examined, wondered. “A-are y-you my…father?”
I barely heard the hopeful note in his voice. But it was there. The yearning caught my own long-ignored wish to discover my parents.
Xander looked nothing like X. Tall and thin, X had narrow bone structure like a scarecrow with lighter black hair. Xander had an athlete’s body even while standing still. His dark hair contrasted with his sharp green eyes—a startling difference that had caught my attention right away.
And Xander acted nothing like X. Xander didn’t laugh with a cruel abandon or chase kids in the dark of night. When he learned he wouldn’t host Tut’s soul, he didn’t turn against me or try to use me and my power. He’d helped me.
“Tut, tut, tut. And I’m not referring to the Pharaoh.” X laughed again, but in a more controlled fashion. He studied Xander’s lost face and a bit of sympathy appeared in his expression. “The Society of Aten has raised a Xander in every generation for centuries hoping the right boy would coincide with the right time. Until the advancement of science we couldn’t predict when a full moon eclipse would align perfectly with the summer solstice. But with you it was different.” X’s tone went from sympathetic to stone. “With you they knew.”
Xander’s shoulders drooped. “Did they kick you out of the Society? Like me.” Xander sounded sympathetic to this man.
I wanted to slap him to his senses. X was the enemy.
X seemed to consider Xander’s question. “Having been the Chosen One at one point, I understood how the new Xander would feel when he found out he was being used until the burnout. The Society was unwilling to invest in my research, so I went solo.”
Hope sputtered with thoughts of a cure. Maybe X could save me. “Do you know how to stop the burnout?”
“All he cares about is the power.” Xander spat the last word.
The fluttering stopped, nose-dived, and crashed. “With your research, what would happen to me and the power?”
His gaze swung to me like a harsh spotlight. “Simple. I’d control the power and you.”
X signaled to the gold-gloved men and they stepped forward. The gold gloves must do something. Why else would these two goons be willing to look so ridiculous?
Xander raised one of the shovels. “It’s a trap, Olivia. He probably doesn’t even know how to end the burnout. He’ll take control of you. He’ll own you like a slave.”
My muscles bunched ready to run. I wouldn’t become their prisoner, used for whatever wicked purpose they planned. Because looking at X, I knew he was bad.
Not by his looks, because some people would consider him handsome for an older guy. Not by his words, because he’d given us vital information. It was his stance, his attitude, the aura that engulfed him.
“The Society will treat her like a slave.” X shot a you’ve-got-to-be-kidding-me smile. “And she’ll still burnout. Why are you letting Xander take
you to them?”
X’s words jolted. “He’s not.”
“Don’t listen to him.” Xander moved in front of me. He raised his arms like a Kung Fu fighter, tightening his fists around the two shovels. He still planned to fight for me. For us. If we weren’t in such a dire situation, and I needed to fight or flee, I’d swoon at his protective action.
“Sebekkah or Tahtib?” X asked.
I understood ancient Egyptian but those two words didn’t translate.
“Both.” Xander circled his arms with the metal shovels cutting through the air. His balance and symmetry showed his mastery of the art. “Plus a few other, more modern, martial arts.”
X put his fists up in a similar position. “Remember, I had the same training as you.”
“Twenty years ago.” Xander jumped and twisted in the air kicking out with his feet in perfect position. He landed softly on the ground. It was like watching poetry in motion, or a really good dance move.
Except, he didn’t attack X. Instead, he moved behind me and kicked out at both of the gloved men. They stumbled into each other like a bowling ball hitting pins. The men wobbled, their faces dazed from the unexpected attack. Breathing heavy, they repositioned and moved toward Xander.
X appeared shocked. He still held his arms up, but his expression showed he was recalculating. Obviously, he thought he’d fight Xander and let the goons take me. Which meant X believed the goons could touch me. I had to stay clear of them.
Xander moved in with the shovels. He mixed up his arms, then he jabbed and sliced with the sharp garden tools. One of the shovels sliced a goon’s face. Blood dripped from his cheek.
I grimaced. Fisting my hands, a basic—most likely male—urge to fight pulsed inside my body. I could help.
Xander went in like a fencer. He stabbed at the other goon and cut his arm. The man pulled back for just a second but then moved in toward Xander again. The hitting, the spinning, the bleeding, happened so fast. What seemed like minutes was probably only seconds.
Xander kept going at them. “Olivia, run!”
His words shook out whatever strange funk had held me. From the gang fights I’d witnessed, Xander could definitely hold his own. I wanted to join the scrabble, but saving the oils was more important.
