by Allie Burton
“I searched the house.” Falcon ground a fist into his other palm. “I couldn’t feel the trumpet.”
When the pain had stopped—when Aria had stopped playing the trumpet of war—he’d gone back into her house, expecting the instrument to be lying out or at least only hidden in a cabinet or closet.
He’d sensed nothing.
Found nothing.
His mind stirred, searching again in his head.
Olivia placed a hand on his shoulder, regal and comforting. “Are you no longer affected by the playing of the trumpet?”
“Oh, no. I’m affected.” His torment had returned like an old nightmare. “I’m guessing the ability to sense its presence has weakened over the centuries, or because others have blown the trumpet.”
He might not have sensed the trumpet, but he’d heard Aria rummaging upstairs and watched her sneaking out of the house. He’d followed her to Gordon’s Antique Shop and seen how she’d used her new powers to break into the store. She hadn’t noticed that she was using her magical abilities.
“What was she doing at Gordon’s Antique Shop?” Xander took hold of Olivia’s hand, the two of them belonging together.
So unlike what Falcon felt for Aria. His skin tightened and his gut clenched. Attraction, sure. She was beautiful and so proper. For some reason that turned him on. She was also frustrating and annoying and…trouble. And she held his life in her hands.
He pulled his fist from his other hand and smashed it back into the center of his palm. “I don’t know. Searching for clues to find her grandfather?”
Too bad super-hearing wasn’t one of Aria’s powers, because she would’ve known the police were on their way. After the cops had taken her, Falcon had hustled back to the warehouse and now he negotiated with Olivia and Xander.
“We have to get Aria out of jail.” Falcon’s heart clanged, similar to someone banging on prison bars.
He didn’t like her, but she was the best lead to retrieve the trumpet. There was only one way to dispose of the trumpet of war properly so he and Aria and whoever else had played the trumpet wouldn’t suffer a terrible end.
The light scent of her flowery perfume rose from his clothes and tickled his nose. Tickled his memory of holding her down, how she’d felt beneath him, how her warmth had wrapped around him and made him feel…human.
“We can’t expose ourselves to the police.” Xander’s tone became no-nonsense. He shoved a hand into his jeans pocket. “There are too many risks.”
“Leaving Aria with the police is another risk.” Falcon didn’t want to think what the Society would do to her once they realized she’d played the trumpet. “The professor would’ve reacted when she played. The Society will notice and realize Aria played the trumpet.”
“Maybe if I talked to her it would help.” Olivia’s softer side was what kept the Soul Warriors balanced. “I know when Xander first told me about the magical abilities I didn’t believe.”
Xander had been brought up by the Society of Aten. Together, Olivia and Xander had freed Falcon and his shabti warrior brothers. They’d become the Society’s enemy.
Soul Warriors against magic used for evil.
“Aria doesn’t know you, Olivia.” Falcon’s stomach gave a nervous jiggle. For some reason, he didn’t want Olivia and Xander to meet Aria. Only Falcon knew her right now. And to expose her to all of this…he scanned the warehouse with its blue workout mats, small kitchen, and stocked classroom…would change her worldview forever.
“You can introduce us.” Olivia sounded so proper, as if she were meeting Aria at high tea and not in jail.
Math, another Soul Warrior named after his proficiency in math and science, hurried toward them. He wore khaki pants and a black T-shirt. His expression appeared upset. “Tut’s silver trumpet of peace is gone.”
Falcon’s right fist fell out of his left palm. A double beat of disbelief and disappointment drummed inside. “The silver trumpet was supposed to be the easy repossession. What happened?”
“It was stolen off the loading dock.” Math’s lips pursed in an angry frown. “Minutes before I got there. They knew I was coming.”
Olivia and Xander shared a knowing glance.
Falcon was always amazed when the two of them could communicate without talking. It was if their commitment to each other, for eternity, gave them this telepathic ability.
Olivia dropped Xander’s hand. “How is the Society staying one step ahead of us?”
“They must’ve found a way to listen to our conversations.” Falcon scanned the warehouse again. He’d read about listening devices and spy equipment.
“Without the silver trumpet we’re…nailed.” Math angled his head and squinted at Xander.
“Screwed.” Xander choked out a laugh. “Good try on the slang, though.”
Falcon couldn’t stop his slight smile. He had a pretty good grasp on the casual English the Americans used. The shabti warriors had only months to learn about the modern era including the intricacies of language and technology. Olivia and Xander had set up a classroom filled with books and computers for the warriors to study. Falcon spent hours trying to comprehend the centuries that had passed since his first life.
“The silver trumpet is the antidote for the bronze trumpet of war.” Falcon needed to impress on Math the importance of finding the silver trumpet. Not only was it important to Falcon, Aria, and Professor York, It was important to the world. “We have to find the trumpet of peace.”
“It’s even more important no one plays the bronze trumpet.” Olivia took a large breath, letting her shoulders drop with the released whoosh of air. “Not only do we need to get Aria out of jail, we need her to cooperate.”
Falcon remembered her struggles against him, her quick-lashing tongue and her accusations. He chuckled. “Good luck.”
They’d need luck and a lot of persuasion to get Aria to work with them. They needed the trumpet to stop a brewing war. They needed to end the trumpet’s hold on him and they could only do that with Aria.
Chapter Eight
Aria
The concrete walls of the jail holding cell mocked me. They seemed to say, try and break out from here. An unsettledness, an itchiness, a need pushed me to do just that. To break out. To smash the concrete or bend the metal bars, as if I’d suddenly gotten claustrophobic with this desire to escape. And I’d been in lots of small spaces—recording studios, and green rooms before playing a concert. I didn’t fear small places.
So what was this pounding in my bloodstream, pushing me to charge the wall? Telling me to get out of here?
Jiggling keys, an officer walked toward the cell door. “Aria York? You’re free to go.”
I stood, bouncing on the balls of my feet. Unable to get out of the holding area fast enough. “I am?”
The police had caught me breaking in and there was no one to bail me out. I was only sixteen. My feet stuttered. I forced myself to exit the cell.
“Collect your stuff at the counter.” The cop led the way through the dark, narrow hall.
“Why am I being let go?” I shouldn’t question, I should run.
“Your friends vouched for you and came to pick you up.”
My heart dropped to my stalled feet. I didn’t have any friends and none that would come at three in the morning. “F-f-friends?”
“They’re waiting out front.”
Panic sputtered to life. My nerve endings pulsed. Could it be the kidnappers? Did they realize I’d found the trumpet? Played the trumpet? “Is there a back door?”
The officer shook her head and pointed in the direction to exit.
After picking up my things, which consisted of a house key, I pushed open the door leading to the waiting area. My tummy twisted with trepidation. Surely, they wouldn’t try to kidnap me in the middle of a police station. I scanned the room searching for the best escape.
“Aria. Are you okay?” The strong male voice wavered.
Turning my head, I stared at his messy hair,
his emerald eyes without a sparkle, and his expression resembling concern.
Falcon had bailed me out?
My gaze narrowed, suspicion threading through my mind in intricate patterns of deceit. “What’re you doing here? Did you find my grandfather?”
“No.” He stepped closer, lowering his head before speaking. “We got you out of jail. Shouldn’t you be thanking us?”
“Us?”
“Aria.” Falcon waved his hand at two people who stood a few feet behind him. “This is Olivia and Xander.”
Xander appeared similar to Falcon. Dark hair, green eyes, strong build. He wore pressed jeans and a black T-shirt. His neutral expression didn’t tell me anything. Olivia’s long brown hair was braided to the side. She wore black jeans, a long-sleeved, black T-shirt, and a sympathetic expression.
I didn’t need anyone’s sympathy. “Why would you and your friends bail me out?” Questions tumbled in my head, one idea getting caught and then moving on. We’re they thieves? That would be ironic. Thieves bailing out the person they intended to steal from.
“There was no money involved.” Olivia played with the end of her braid. “Only influence.”
I didn’t understand what they wanted with me. “I won’t give you the trumpet. I need it to save Grandfather.”
“Let’s not talk here.” Xander surveyed the room, perusing several people who might be listening. He moved toward the exit door and held it open for Olivia, lightly touching her back as she passed.
Falcon held the door for me and I glided through, careful not to come in contact with him. Olivia and Xander must be reinforcements. Were the three of them going to take me to Grandfather’s house and force me to give them the trumpet?
I wouldn’t do it. I needed the trumpet…to save Grandfather.
“Well, thanks for getting me out of jail. I gotta go.” I rushed past them with a hurried pace. The nightly damp fog hit my cheeks, bracing me for what was to come.
“Have you found the war trumpet?” Falcon stepped forward, walking beside me. I didn’t know if he was my protector or my warder.
“No.” The response shot out of my mouth. I didn’t even need to think about lying. “Nor have I found my grandfather.”
“Did you think you’d find him in Gordon’s shop?” Xander walked behind us, with Olivia beside him.
Xander knew about the antique shop. They’d known I’d been caught and taken into custody. They must’ve been watching the house, watching me. Had they wanted me to get caught by the police so they had leverage?
The anxiety of not knowing caused my muscles to twitch. I hurried, not exactly running, not making it easy, either.
Falcon stepped up his walk, not even breathing hard. “We have to talk.” His serious pitch told me I didn’t want to hear whatever he had to say.
“No, we don’t.”
“Aria.” Olivia’s tone didn’t demand. Her voice was even, not emotional. But the way she said my name made me stop. Listen. What kind of power did she have? “You will hear what Falcon has to say.”
Because I was starting to believe in this power thing.
I crossed my arms and glared between the two of them. “Fine.” I’d listen, even though I didn’t want to. Had she used this influence with the police?
Falcon took my hand and the familiar zing zipped inside me. My fingers slid between his, and seemed to fit. He led the group to a small park nearby and stopped in front of the swings.
Releasing his hand, I took a seat and gripped my fingers around the metal chains.
“Let me give you some background.” He took the swing next to me, perching on the edge like he didn’t trust the leather sling. “Tut’s trumpets were found by Howard Carter in the tomb of Tutankhamun.”
“I read that in a newspaper clipping. And about the wars the trumpet supposedly caused.” I kicked my feet at the ground, putting the swing in motion. “A fairytale made up to increase value.”
My stomach seesawed, and not from the swing. I doubted my own claim. I’d experienced too many unusual things in the last few hours.
“Both the silver and bronze trumpet disappeared during the Egyptian Revolution and were supposedly returned to the Egyptian Museum a few weeks later.” Olivia raised her hand, entwined with Xander’s.
The four of us looked as if we were on a double date. And yet, nothing could be farther from the truth. While I thought Falcon was gorgeous, we were working at cross-purposes. He was the enemy.
Or at least one of them.
“Replicas of the trumpets were created and given to the museum so no one would know the real ones were still missing.” Falcon pivoted in the swing to face me. “The real trumpets were smuggled out of the country. Somehow they ended up in Gordon’s possession.”
A pang struck my chest. A pang of realization and fear trickled and chilled in my veins. “He was murdered because of the trumpets.”
“Yes.” Falcon stopped my swing and twisted the chains so I faced him. His gaze bored into mine. “I don’t want the same thing to happen to you.”
I jerked the swing to a stop. Did Falcon actually care what happened to me, or was it about finding the trumpet?
“Why is this trumpet so important?” I didn’t want to believe them. I didn’t want to give the trumpet away. I would to save my grandfather, though. “I understand it’s a rare artifact, but it’s not worth killing people over.”
“It is, if the trumpet has powers beyond belief.” Falcon’s steely voice rose with fervor preaching to me about the trumpet and expecting me to believe every word.
“You said the trumpet was magical before. What can it do besides cause discord?” Because I felt discord. A battle being waged inside my body. My anger fought with my sympathy. I wanted to help Falcon, but I couldn’t give up the trumpet. And I needed to save Grandfather.
“Terrible things. Jealousy and selfishness. Stupid fights. Attacks on innocents. Vengeance. Murder.” Falcon’s tone grew dimmer, deeper, darker with each word.
I remembered the anger, too. And this feeling of strength and invincibility. Is that why I’d decided to break into Gordon’s Antique Shop? I’d practically thrown myself at the window. Not something I’d normally do. I was a rule-follower.
What of the pings of doubt I’d had about even bothering to save Grandfather? I’d wanted to selfishly keep the trumpet for myself. Guilt and anguish sliced like a double-edged blade. I was a terrible person.
“War wouldn’t break out in San Francisco if someone played the trumpet.” I added a fake laugh at the end of my statement.
“War is nothing to joke about.” Falcon’s knuckles turned white on the chain. His expression grew fierce, with glittering, pained eyes and a serious frown. He acted like he’d lived through a war, fought in one.
Which was impossible. “You’re about my age, right?”
He nodded. “Sixteen.”
I puffed. “How could you know anything about war?”
He pinched his lips together and drew my swing closer. My face was only inches from his. An urge to lean toward him shook my core.
“I might be only sixteen in this life, but I’ve lived others. I served the god of war. Fought his battles. Killed for his ends.” His eyes gleamed with a fierce light.
Slanting away, I sucked in a sharp breath. This guy was crazy. He believed he’d lived another life.
I caught a glimpse of Olivia and Xander. They’d moved to a bench and sat side by side. They seemed normal. Well, almost…
Falcon jangled the chains of my swing. “Have you found Tut’s trumpet of war?”
The gleam in his gaze sparked. Anger simmered in their emerald depths.
Fear slammed into me. I was in a secluded park at night with crazy Falcon and his two friends. They knew Grandfather was missing. Knew I was alone.
“N-n-no.” I couldn’t trust Falcon with the truth.
“The trumpet is in Professor York’s house. I know someone played.” Falcon let go of the chains. I swung back and close
again. He grabbed the chains, gripping them tighter. “When you find the trumpet, you must give it to me.”
My body quivered. My midsection felt nauseous, the swinging sensation added to my feeling of anxiety. I needed to get away. I didn’t trust Falcon and I didn’t want to share the trumpet. He’d lock the instrument away or destroy the valuable artifact. All I wanted to do was play it.
And there was my grandfather to think about.
“What about the kidnappers who’ve demanded the trumpets for my grandfather’s life? Demanded I play it?” The swinging in my stomach threatened to vault the contents up my throat. “This society you think took him probably murdered Mr. Gordon. Are they going to kill Grandfather, too?”
“I will find your grandfather if you give me the trumpet.” Falcon’s solemn expression told me he took the promise seriously.
Could I trust him? Even though I thought he was crazy, he knew things. While I knew no one else in this city. Didn’t know the first thing about finding a missing person. I didn’t trust the cops and they thought Grandfather—and probably I—was involved in Mr. Gordon’s murder.
“When you find my grandfather and return him to me—” each word I spoke stabbed in my gut “—I’ll give you Tut’s trumpet.”
“I thought you didn’t know where the trumpet was?” Falcon jumped on my mistake. His quick instincts would serve him well if he ever did fight a war.
“I don’t.” My lips quivered, fearing he’d discover the truth. “If the trumpet is in the house, I’ll find it.”
“I’ll be in touch.” He stood up from the swing and studied my face, trying to read my lie. “Whatever you do, if you find it, don’t play the trumpet.”
Which was exactly what I had the urge to do.
Chapter Nine
Aria
The trumpet called to me the moment I stepped into Grandfather’s house.
Falcon had escorted me home and warned me again not to play. By his expression, he didn’t trust me. Too bad. He really didn’t have a choice. I wasn’t about to invite him inside.
