Tut's Trumpet

by Allie Burton

  Chapter Sixteen

  Aria

  Falcon and I arrived at the empty warehouse after midnight. The quietness of the place contrasted with the noise of the street. Travel through San Francisco, even on top of a bus, was dangerous.

  The image of a Molotov cocktail being thrown into a building, causing the building to explode, burst in my mind, causing throbbing in my head and my heart. The damage in the city would be monumental.

  “Can you help me with this?” Falcon emerged from the bathroom, carrying a white box with a red cross on it. “I’ve got medical training, but I can’t reach a few places on my back.”

  The mention of his back brought a sharp reminder of the distress I’d caused him and an even sharper desire. “Where’s the trumpet?”

  “I put it away. Somewhere safe.” He pulled his torn shirt over his head, showing his ripped abs. Turning, he presented his sculpted back muscles with deep jagged scratches. “Do you mind?”

  I licked my dry lips. No, I didn’t mind at all.

  “Aria?” He held out the First Aid kit.

  The scratches marred the perfect skin on his back. I shook myself out of the desirous daze. He meant help him take care of his injuries. He was wounded, and I was focusing on my attraction. “Where’s everyone else?”

  “Trying to stop the fighting in the streets. Protecting the innocent.”

  Oh, yeah. Because of me, the words taunted. Innocent people were being hurt because I’d played the trumpet. The rest of Falcon’s Soul Warriors were in danger because of me. More people Falcon cared about could be injured. Because of me.

  “Aria?” He glanced over his shoulder with raised eyebrows.

  I was the only one around to help Falcon. Sweat formed between my fingers. After our kiss and our closeness, nerves attacked as I was about to touch him in such an intimate way. A new desire—a human desire—tugged. I took the First Aid kit from him and opened it. “Why? Is helping the police part of your job?”

  He’d said something about fighting for goodness and light while we’d traveled on the bus. What did that mean?

  “It’s our calling.” The serious-determined expression showed his conviction. “We vowed to serve for goodness and light and love.”

  The edges of my heart softened. Their cause sounded noble and romantic. Or was that because I heard the slogan through a haze of desire?

  He reached over his shoulder to point. “Rub a little antibiotic anointment on the cuts and scratches.”

  Staring at his bare back, I lectured myself. I had to keep it together and keep my mind on the task. “Some of these scratches are bad.”

  I squirted ointment onto my fingers and placed my hand against his back. His muscles tensed at my touch. Were my fingers cold or did he feel this energy passing between us?

  “I was surprised by a guy in an alley while trying to locate you.” He said it so matter-of-factly, as if being attacked was an everyday occurrence. “Having the trumpet case banging against my back made the injuries worse.”

  My tummy turned, imagining his discomfort. I should’ve offered to carry the trumpet case. I rubbed in the ointment. “How did you find me?”

  His entire body tensed. “I followed the pain of the trumpet.”

  Confusion knotted in my brain. “What does that—?”

  He wheeled around and grabbed my hands, squeezing them tight. His expression intensified with a stern gleam in his gaze. “Why did you leave, Aria? When you knew the danger, why did you take the trumpet and leave?” The words rushed out like he’d been holding them in for hours.

  Taking my hands out of his, I twisted my fingers together, controlling the sudden spike of anger. “I told you, you lied to me about searching for my grandfather.”

  “When I went with Math, following a clue on the other trumpet.”

  “When you came back, you reported to Olivia that the clue you followed to find the silver trumpet was a bust. You didn’t even say hi to me first.” I tore my hands apart and crossed my arms. I didn’t know if this was real anger or manufactured anger from the trumpet. My reasons seemed silly now. “Since you weren’t searching for my grandfather, I figured I’d better start searching on my own.”

  Falcon grabbed my shoulders and squeezed, impressing his point. “It was the trumpet. I bet you were furious when you heard me talking to Olivia. Jealous, even.”

  I puffed. “I wasn’t jealous.” Okay, I was jealous. I realized how stupid I’d been, how I’d put myself in danger.

  He rocked my shoulders back and forth. “We had a solid lead on the silver trumpet. Finding the trumpet of peace is part of the solution.”

  “The solution to what?” I stepped back and his hands dropped from me. Twisting the cap back on the tube, I set it down and walked away. I scanned the larger room in the warehouse trying to get a feel for where he’d put the trumpet. I wasn’t going to play, just wanted to know where it was located. I needed to keep the trumpet safe from others, too. Others who wanted to play, who wanted to feel the euphoria the trumpet gave.

  Paranoia agitated like a percussion instrument, shaking and thumping. My attraction to Falcon morphed to distrust. I knew it was the trumpet affecting me, but I couldn’t make it stop.

  “If we can unite both of Tut’s trumpets, we can balance the harmony in the world.” He sounded so positive.

  While my energy was negative. Anger and jealousy and wrath grew. My distrust bloomed with the need to play. “Do you plan to destroy the bronze trumpet?”

  I couldn’t let that happen.

  “I’ll do what needs to be done.” His determined expression softened. “Let’s talk about your powers.”

  Was he trying to distract me from what he planned to do with my trumpet?

  One thing at a time. I needed to know about my new special abilities. Needed to understand. Flutters returned to my stomach. Nerves twisted with anxiety and excitement. “Tell me.”

  Falcon slipped his shirt back on and moved toward the mats. “I’ll demonstrate.” He waved me over.

  I stepped on the mat, my toes digging into the soft surface. The last time we’d practiced martial arts I’d almost kissed him. And now, knowing how Falcon’s kisses felt, it would be even more of a distraction. I had to focus.

  “Not only is Sebekkah an ancient martial art,” With his hands in a chopping position, Falcon swung them through the air. “It’s also a way to center your soul.” He lifted his leg and did a similar circular motion. “Similar to yoga and jujitsu combined.”

  “You showed me how to defend myself earlier.”

  “Yes.” He paused over folded hands. “I was trying to teach you control without explaining everything, including the consequences.”

  “Control myself from playing the trumpet.”

  He nodded with a grim countenance. “It takes intense concentration and focus to resist the call of the war trumpet.”

  Didn’t I know it. Even now, the trumpet called to me. Even knowing the trouble the trumpet caused, I wanted to play, had this desire.

  Falcon seemed pretty focused. The only time he’d lost control was when he kissed me. My insides became tender. This was a sign he was attracted to me. We both liked each other. I didn’t have to worry about Olivia or any other girl.

  “You know about the temptation to play the trumpet because you’ve blown the trumpet a hundred times in your past life.”

  “Thousands.” A slight shiver rocked his body.

  If I hadn’t been staring, I never would’ve noticed he was upset. “That’s where you got your powers from.”

  “Some. The rest I received when Olivia obliterated Tut’s amulet curse.”

  “So I won’t have the same powers as you?”

  “Hard to tell. Most people who’ve played the trumpet of war are dead.” His glance traveled around the warehouse. “Besides you, I’ve only heard of one other.”

  “Who?”

  “Professor York, your grandfather.”

  The stunning revelation shot throu
gh my backbone and chilled with envy. The envy thawed with concern for my Grandfather. He’d played the trumpet of war. That’s why he’d been so angry when he’d caught me playing. He was being possessive. He’d ordered me to never play the trumpet again and hidden it in the secret basement of his house.

  Not because he was trying to help me. He didn’t want me to play.

  Envy streamed into me, a constant refrain. “Does my grandfather have powers, too?”

  “He only played the trumpet once, so if he has powers they’ll be minimal.”

  I had to learn about my powers. Learn what I could do. Then, figure out how Falcon and I together could save Grandfather. “What are the powers?”

  “Let me demonstrate.” Falcon bent at the knees and jumped. Higher and higher. He grabbed onto the railing surrounding the top balcony in the warehouse. “Not exactly flying, but close.”

  I remembered how he’d leapt to the mansion’s third floor window to save me and how we’d both jumped on the bus. “Kind of like a superhero.”

  Falcon let go of the rail and jumped, landing on his feet. He picked up a wooden crate and brought it next to the mat. He smashed his fist into the crate. The wood exploded into tiny splinters.

  “Increased strength.”

  He sprang forward and flipped, ending beside me. “Increased agility.” Taking me in his arms, he dipped me in an elegant dance move.

  A flush stole up my body and I swooned. “Oh, my.” I sounded huskier than normal.

  I stared into his flickering emerald eyes. The light reflected differently off the orbs, depending on his mood. Sharp and pointed when focused. Rounded when thinking. Hard when angry. Glistening when emotional. Right now, the pupils were opening and dazed.

  His gaze went to my mouth.

  My bones liquefied in his arms. If he hadn’t been supporting me I would’ve been on the floor. A pang shot through my chest like a bow on a violin, spreading the excitement throughout my body. My focus was on Falcon moving closer, centimeter by centimeter.

  His lips made contact with mine. Tingles tapped on my mouth and electrified my spine. My skin quivered with heat as his mouth moved, kissing me with more passion than I’d ever experienced.

  I’d had hurried kisses at band parties and chaste kisses from fans after a concert, but I’d never undergone this complete commitment of the meeting of mouths. I’d never enjoyed an embrace that soothed and excited. That made me feel desirous and protected. That took my mind off of everything, and everyone, except for Falcon.

  He hugged me closer, breaking our lip connection. His forehead rested on my head as if he was unwilling to break the embrace.

  I exhaled shakily, my body trembling with waves of desire. “Is an additional ability the power to attract others?”

  He lifted his head and gazed at me, his eyes glazed from our kiss. “If it is, the two of us are going to combust.” His deep voice growled.

  He must be affected. By the kiss. By me. By us being together.

  Delight played a happy harmony inside my heart. Like a joyous symphony, his actions resounded inside me. The upbeat concerto an accompaniment to my swinging soul.

  He swung me to a standing position, dropped his arms from around me, and took a step back. His chest heaved.

  Was the attraction real, or something concocted by the power of the trumpet? Would he be attracted to me when I lost my powers?

  “Your powers have lasted centuries. How long will my powers last once the trumpet of peace is found? Or when the trumpet of war is destroyed?”

  “Remember, I was a stone shabti for most of those centuries. As for you…” He shook his head. “I don’t know.”

  As if a valve had closed on my throat, I found it hard to breathe. The uncertainty of my situation shivered to my core. I had powers, but didn’t know for how long. Falcon was attracted to me, but not for forever, even though he’d live forever. I wouldn’t. And who knew how long Grandfather would live?

  Chapter Seventeen

  Aria

  After a small meal and a change into Olivia’s shorts and T-shirt, we were back to sparring on the mats. Falcon took hold of my arm, rotated, and tossed me to the mat. I grunted. So much for feeling protected in his arms.

  “You lost focus. What were you thinking about?” His frustrated tone shouted. His sharp gaze glared.

  Falcon wore shorts only. No wonder I was distracted.

  “Nothing.” I stared at the blue of the mat, seeing nothing except guilt swimming before me. He was trying to help, yet I thought of nothing but the trumpet blowing in my head, the instrument whispering in my ear.

  “You were thinking about the trumpet.” He slapped his bare thigh and the sound echoed in the warehouse.

  My head jerked as if I’d been slapped.

  My face heated. He’d caught me. Anger had me pushing myself off the mat, getting to my feet. I’d been tossed down so many times by Falcon I’d lost count. “I can’t help it. The trumpet calls to me.”

  “The trumpet of war calls me, too.” His voice was edged with understanding. “It’s an addiction.”

  His reasoning hit me. The shaky feeling. The constant thinking of the trumpet. The need. “Yes.”

  “And it’s not only the need to play, you feel you have the right to play and not being able to makes you angry and frustrated and furious.” He did understand.

  I felt in tune with him. “Exactly.”

  Now, he’d let me play.

  “That’s why I’m teaching you Sebekkah. It will help you control your urges.” He spread his feet wide in a defensive stance. “I want you to think of a focus object.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “A focus object is something you concentrate on to take your mind off the urge to play.”

  “Like what?” All I could think of was the trumpet and the way it made me feel when I played. “What’s your focus object?”

  He kicked his feet into the mat. He didn’t want to tell me. I knew by his action of contemplating the ground before lifting his head. “My focus object is a ball.”

  “A ball?”

  “A special ball made of leather and stuffed with papyrus leaves.” He sounded defensive. “My mother gave it to me and it reminds me of being a kid and having fun.”

  My focus until the accident had been my flute. Now, the thought of the instrument reminded me of the other instrument I was trying to forget and about my parents’ deaths. That wouldn’t work.

  Falcon stared me down, waiting. The depth of his green eyes was similar to getting lost in a moss-filled jungle. Warm and soothing. Interesting and exciting. And made me forget myself and the trumpet.

  “Well?” He tapped his foot.

  My glance darted around, avoiding him. “Do I have to tell you what it is?”

  “No.” He stilled his foot and got back into position. “Go again. Let your anger build and use it.”

  After an hour of being thrown to the mat I was tired. Tired of him telling me what to do. Tired of him denying me my right to play the trumpet. His eyes had calmed me. Now, I had to let the anger grow again.

  I clenched my stomach and firmed my chin, letting the anger roil inside. Anger at Falcon for throwing me to the ground. Anger at the trumpet for making me want to play. Anger at life.

  Fisting my hands together, I glared at Falcon, my opponent. I charged forward, faked a punch with my right hand and pummeled his abs with my left fist.

  He grabbed my left wrist and twisted, making me fall to my knees. “Foiled again.” He released my wrist.

  Dusting myself off, I got back on my feet, determined to win one battle. “You’ve had centuries of experience.” I charged again, this time spinning around before whipping out my leg.

  He jumped over my leg and high into the air.

  I blew out a breath and got ready for another attack. “How strong is the pull of the trumpet on you?”

  I needed to use my power. Focusing, I concentrated on his weak spot. I fisted my hands and moved. No fanc
y moves this time, just pure adrenaline and power. I leapt and brought my fist down in a striking motion toward his head.

  He grabbed my arm and brought it close to his chest, bringing my body against his. “The pull probably isn’t as strong on me as it is on you, but I understand what you’re going through. When I served Horus, the god of war, it was my job to blow the bronze trumpet every day.” His glistening eyes told me the emotional toll playing the trumpet had on him, and that he still felt, centuries later.

  Anxiety curled my toes. Would I have to deal with this addiction for the rest of my life? Or would it stop when my powers ended?

  I uncurled my toes and fisted my hands. I couldn’t feel sorry for him. I had to take advantage of him in this fake fight. Show him I could help. Prove to him I could deal with an enemy. I tugged my arm out of his clutches, spun around, and landed a roundhouse kick below the belt.

  Bending at the waist, he stumbled backward, falling down on the mat. “Good one.”

  I fist-pumped to celebrate my success. “If my blowing the trumpet for a few hours made San Francisco erupt in chaos, I can only imagine what it did to your world when you blew the trumpet every day.”

  “Battles by the hour. Corruption. Death.” His emotionless tone said more than his words. Falcon stood, bracing himself in a defensive position.

  I placed my feet shoulder-width apart, thinking about my next attack move. “Tell me about daily life back then.”

  “It was nothing like this.” He sounded lost in terrible memories.

  Using his distraction to my advantage, I turned my back to him and kicked my leg straight back toward my target—Falcon. Watching over my shoulder, my heel hit hard.

  He flew backward, yet stayed on his feet. “Basic survival was the norm for most people. More people were killed by disease and injury than the actual battles we fought.” He moved toward me, raised his knee and swiveled his hip, all within milliseconds. Instead of snapping out with a kick, he extended his leg outward and snapped it in an arc, with his heel striking me in the back of my knee.

  My knees collapsed and I fell to the ground. “Guess you didn’t have flu shots.”