by Allie Burton
A warning for Falcon’s near death.
Aria tossed the heavy rock as if it were made of papier-mâché. She had gained strength.
Muscles swatted the rock with his free hand, as though it were an annoying gnat. His strength was quadruple of Aria’s. How was that possible? The question screeched in Falcon’s mind, bringing his racing blood to a halt.
Muscles was not a regular human. And the robe he wore was a costume meant to confuse.
The rock crashed into the glass window under the waterfall. Water plunged from the pool into the viewing area. The people screamed and scattered, probably expecting more terror like last night.
“Now what?” Aria wasn’t giving up, just thinking of other options.
“Go!”
“I’m not leaving you.” She took a short leap beside Falcon bringing her closer to the enemy. “Let me see your foot.”
She sounded so calm, while panic rushed in his bloodstream and pulsed in his heart. And yet, time moved slower than Muscles.
Falcon couldn’t let her get killed because of his stupidity. “Go, Aria. Just go.”
Muscles pulled his tree-trunk legs through the water, creating waves. It was possible he wasn’t able to leap. He didn’t have all warrior powers.
Aria gripped the bottom of Falcon’s jeans in her fingers. She yanked on his leg.
Still stuck. His hope sunk like his body. His limbs froze. He’d die in a watery grave and it wasn’t in the Nile or the San Francisco Bay.
Muscles was several feet away. He might be strong, but he wasn’t fast.
“Maybe you can damage the concrete surrounding the vent.” Aria’s face showed tension in the lines on her forehead. “Instead of pulling, you should kick with your other foot. Hard.”
The sinking feeling stopped. Her idea was good. Gathering his strength, he kicked with all his magical force, powering through the concrete.
Cracks formed around the vent. He was causing damage at a crawling speed.
Muscles was only two feet away.
Falcon kicked harder, again, and again, and again. His mind swung in wild directions. What to do? How to save Aria? “Go, Aria. I’ll get myself out.”
“No.” Bunching her hands into fists, she knelt beside him and pounded on the wall around the vent. The power of her punch shook the short wall and vibrated the water.
Pieces of concrete fell away. The vent came loose. His foot was free.
Success whipped through him. “I’m free.”
Aria helped him to his feet in his soaking, heavy jeans. “Let’s fly.”
His body sagged. No time to savor his relief.
They leapt in the air, leaving a shocked Muscles behind.
They leapt and dashed and darted toward the train station. His wet clothes dripped on people passing below. They probably thought it was rain.
It wasn’t.
The dripping was his dignity.
Falcon had almost lost Aria and been killed because he’d been paying more attention to these emotions sizzling between them than to his surroundings. Because he’d overprotected her when she could’ve helped at the first sign of attack. Similar to the cavemen he’d read about, he’d gone Neanderthal.
Chapter Nineteen
Aria
Hammering nails, workers boarded up Caltrain station’s shattered front-glass windows. More damage that was my fault. And I’d been so tempted to play the trumpet again. So close to causing more destruction.
My wet shoes squeaked on the concrete. The bottom of my jeans dripped, leaving a trail of wetness. “Do you want to go back to the warehouse for a change of clothes?”
Falcon’s wet trail was worse. He’d sat in the fountain. His entire bottom half and his jacket sleeves were wet. “I’ll dry.”
“Who was that guy?” I stood beside him as he purchased our tickets from a machine. Worry trembled inside from our close call. “Someone from the Society?”
“I don’t know.” Falcon spoke slowly as if he was puzzling out my question in his head. He headed to the southbound track and I followed.
“Why don’t we ride on top of the train?” I remembered the exhilaration of riding on top of the bus last night. The thrill of our first kiss. Anything to take my mind off of what we’d just experienced.
“We’d be spotted.” He dodged people heading into the city for a day of work. “It’s broad daylight.”
The commuters didn’t live in the city. They lived across the bay or in the south bay. They hadn’t experienced the night of destruction. They’d probably watched it on the news.
Many of the vendor booths in the station were shuttered with metal gates. Guilt glided into my soul. Had their owners or workers been caught in the crossfire?
Falcon halted, his expression hardened. “This way.” He grabbed my hand with stiff fingers and led me behind a large column.
“What’s wrong?”
“I thought I saw Jeb.”
Fear slugged, making my movements slow, thinking of the man who’d taken me captive and forced me to play. Truth and blamed nudged. Okay, maybe not forced, but definitely encouraged. “What’s he doing here?”
“I don’t know.” Falcon jerked on my hand and sped to hide behind a vendor booth. “Taking the train. Or following us.”
“After seeing his mansion, the second is more likely.”
Several nice cars had been parked outside the mansion. He probably never took public transportation.
“Agreed.” Falcon tugged me toward the next large column.
“Why didn’t he send the guy from the park?” The big, muscular guy could do more damage than Jeb.
“I don’t think Muscles works for Jeb.” Falcon scooted toward a vendor cart, pulling me behind.
I felt like a piece of luggage, not a hero who’d saved him. “Why don’t we jump, or use our super-speed to get to the right track?”
“People would notice.”
I noted a few commuters stared at us oddly. “Do you think Jeb knows where we’re going?” I knew we were headed south of San Francisco, about a forty-minute train ride.
“It’s possible. Which means the lead is solid.” Falcon’s voice held an edge of excitement. “Let’s hope we can get there quicker by train.” He moved faster, leading me to the correct track.
“We’ll have to hope for a traffic jam.” Normally, cars were faster than the train, but from what I’d heard about Bay Area traffic, we had a chance.
“Yep.”
The silver train with red stripes pulled up. We boarded and took our seats. The train chugged forward through the depot and out into the southern section of the city. We hadn’t had time to talk while hurrying to the station. Now on the train, we had forty minutes.
“Why do you think Muscles doesn’t work for Jeb?”
“Muscles wore the gold belt of one of the leaders of the Society and Muscles is…well, muscle, used for intimidation. He wouldn’t be that high up in the Society.”
“What was the lead?” I glanced out the window at the crisscrossing tracks. I hadn’t traveled outside of the city, yet.
“Xander knows someone who works at the Crucis Museum. He saw something suspicious.” Falcon handed me a train ticket, took off his jacket and placed it on the seat.
“What’s the Crucis Museum?”
“It’s a museum focusing on Egyptian history and run by the Magical Order of Crucis.”
Great. Another magical thing to deal with. “What is the Magical Order of Crucis?”
“It’s similar to the Society of Aten. More secretive. We haven’t had a lot of contact with them before.”
I didn’t want to walk into the museum blind. “What did Xander’s contact see at the museum?”
“Activity last night. Strangers by the loading dock. Not employees or delivery people.” Falcon squinted down the long aisle of the train. “I’m gonna check out the train to make sure no one followed us.”
My nerves sprang to attention. “What should I do?”
“Keep your head down.” He handed me a newspaper lying on another seat. “Pretend to read.”
Falcon stood and started moving down the aisle. He didn’t hold onto the seat backs to stay upright. He used his athletic body and agility to stroll down the aisle without being jiggled back and forth. His tight jeans shaped around his muscular legs and butt. And his T-shirt hugged his chest.
My heart pitter-pattered. I sighed, remembering our last hug. Wanting another one.
Turning my attention to the newspaper, I jolted at the headline.
Dozens Dead During San Francisco Riot.
Each word, no each letter, smacked my head and stabbed in my back.
I read on: Authorities don’t know what started the mass chaos in the street. Reports of looting, theft, multiple locations of fired shots, and several fires kept the police and firefighters busy.
Staring at the photograph of a building going up in flames, I felt lightheaded, dread draining the energy from my body.
“You okay?” Falcon plopped beside me on the vinyl seat. He had two sandwiches in his hand. “You look pale.”
I lowered the paper, letting my arms drop into my lap. “Dozens of people died yesterday. Because of me.”
My body chilled. Blackness enveloped me in a cloud of despair. I’d been selfish. I’d known playing the trumpet would be bad and done it anyway. Because I needed to. I didn’t fully understand the destruction I was causing. Not until the bus ride did I see some damage.
And even then, it didn’t hit me that people had died. Because of me.
The blackness swallowed any light. I’d played. People died. No excuses.
“You didn’t know.” He rubbed my cold hand between his two warm ones.
The heat didn’t transfer. I didn’t deserve his warmth or compassion. “I knew I shouldn’t have played the trumpet. I should’ve resisted.”
“You didn’t understand how terrible it could get, how much power the trumpet has over people’s emotions. Including yours.” He spoke from experience. “You can’t change the past. Only learn and move forward.”
How much did Falcon regret his past? Hundreds or thousands of people probably died because he’d blown the trumpet every day. How many deaths rested on his conscience? He understood what I was going through, experienced it himself. I clung to his hand, needing his strength and his understanding. Wanting to forget.
Why would he choose a name that reminded him of his tragedy? “Why did you name yourself Falcon?”
His hands stopped rubbing mine. His gaze widened to stare first with confusion and then accusation. “What? Why?”
“The falcon is a symbol for Horus, the god of war.” I repeated what I’d read. “Why would you take a name that constantly reminded you of your past?”
He contemplated out the window. His expression had blanked, making me unable to tell what he was thinking. I guessed it was something dark. Something from his past.
The train chug-chug-chugged on the tracks. The scenery flashed by in a blur. Falcon didn’t move. It was as if he wasn’t in this time period anymore.
Sympathy softened my touch on his shoulder. “Falcon?”
“I wanted to be reminded.” His voice scratched with a raw pain. “No. Needed to be reminded of the wrongs I’d done in my past life.”
“Did you know the trumpet’s effect?” I’d been told why I shouldn’t play and yet I hadn’t comprehended the depth of destruction. Yet, guilt chewed on every one of my organs and anger beat at my insides.
“Not at first. I realized later.” Agony marred his gorgeous face. “After my family was killed, I continued to play to get rid of my emotional anguish.”
“Didn’t Horus command you?”
“Yes, but I could’ve controlled myself. Could’ve not done as asked. Could’ve destroyed the trumpet back then.”
“Having the name Falcon helps?”
“When Olivia brought me back to life, I vowed to serve for goodness and light and love.” A slight smile slipped onto his face. “It was in direct contrast to my past life where it was about murder and greed and war.”
When Falcon had returned to life, he’d become a completely different person. “You’re a hero.”
“You’re a hero, too.” His fingers brushed my cheek. “You’re learning to accept your powers. You’re brave in the hunt for your grandfather. You’re fighting the lure of the trumpet.”
Until he said that.
The desire to play kindled inside of me, a constant burn sometimes flaring hotter. “Will the trumpet be safe back at the warehouse?”
“Olivia and Xander know the importance of the trumpet. And it appears Jeb, the person who wants it, is heading out of the city.” Falcon relaxed back into the seat.
“What does Jeb do for the Society?” I should learn while we had time. Plus, asking questions kept my mind off of the trumpet. The burn flared.
“Jeb is the manager of the Society of Aten. He keeps the organization running.” Falcon closed his eyes, giving me a chance to study him.
With his eyes closed, he looked younger, boyish. I wanted to brush the strands of dark hair from his forehead. Of course, he looked younger because he was actually thousands of years old.
I resisted the urge. “Jeb’s not the one in charge?”
“No. There’s someone higher up. When the Society meets for ceremonies he wears a hood over his head and ties his robe with a gold rope.”
“No one knows who this guy is?”
“Only a few of the top officers in the Society. He likes to keep his true identity a secret.”
How could any large organization keep identities secret with modern technology? “So there are Society members throughout the community? Anyone could be part of the organization.” My gaze darted between the few people occupying the seats in the train.
The man wearing the grey, pinstriped suit could be the leader. Or the lady in the flowery skirt. Or the guy in the jeans and hoodie.
Any one of them could be connected to the Society of Aten. Any one of them could be listening to Falcon and me, and following us. Any one of them could be the mysterious leader who held my grandfather’s destiny.
Chapter Twenty
Aria
“Should we buy tickets and go in?” I walked past soaring palm trees, spaced exactly seven feet apart, in the elaborate gardens of the Crucis Museum. Anxiety and excitement agitated in my gut. The sandwiches and short nap on the train improved my mood. I was glad we were taking action, but worried we’d get caught. I wasn’t a cloak-and-dagger type of girl.
Falcon ran his strong fingers over a scary dog statue baring its teeth. “That would be the easiest.” He strutted toward the front entrance, wearing confidence like he wore his jeans. Snug and tight.
I waved a hand in front of my face trying to create a breeze. Between watching him and thinking about the task ahead, heat invaded my insides. “How dangerous is this going to be? Is your contact meeting us?”
A fountain with a shallow pool was centered in the middle of the walkway. We edged around it. The blue-tiled bottom reflected the sunlight, causing me to squint. A bird wearing a crown sat in the middle of the fountain. A falcon?
“My contact needs to keep a low profile.” Falcon studied the crowned bird.
Frustration bubbled in my lungs, making it hard to breathe. I was trusting him with mine and my grandfather’s life and with the trumpet. “Don’t you trust me?”
“I trust you.” Shifting, he took both my hands in his. His gaze softened. “The less you know, the safer you’ll be.” He sounded as if he cared.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He dropped my hands and stared at the falcon. “If you get…caught, you won’t have sensitive information.”
“You don’t think I can keep a secret?” I wanted him to trust me, to have faith I could be an equal partner.
“They have ways of making people talk.” His tone chilled, resembling that of a bad guy from a movie.
I shudd
ered. I didn’t want to die like a spy in a movie. I wanted to get the information we needed, find Grandfather, and go home. Shaking off my mood, I continued to walk through the garden.
White columns with blue-painted designs stood guard by the entrance. Cerulean-blue pots lined the walkway, each holding a desert plant that pierced into the sky.
“This is beautiful.” And dangerous. I had to remember that. I couldn’t be lulled by the scenery.
“The Magical Order of Crucis is known for their architecture.” He strolled past a bench painted the same deep cerulean blue.
“Similar to the Egyptians with their pyramids.”
With gritted teeth, he shook his head. “Not at all.”
What wasn’t he telling me? More privileged intelligence? More information I couldn’t spill if I was caught?
He bought tickets and we entered the museum.
The grand entryway widened. The museum was much bigger than I’d expected. The designers had carried the cerulean blue theme into the museum with the ceilings painted in the same deep color. Hieroglyphics were etched into the walls, and the famous eye image was placed in several spots.
I tried to act casual, walking to a counter and picking up a map. “Are all the employees at the museum part of the Order?”
“We can’t assume.”
“Where do we start?” I strolled to a roped-off section and Falcon followed. A sarcophagus leaned against the wall, and I imagined living in the time period and having my body encased.
Shivers rolled over my skin. I hoped that wasn’t how they were keeping Grandfather prisoner.
“They’re not going to hide the professor in plain sight.” Falcon held out his hand. “Let me see the map.”
After handing the map to him, I walked to a painted mural on the wall. The pictorial image of ancient Egypt highlighted the division between Upper and Lower. Hieroglyphics pictured the gods and goddesses who were prominent in certain places. I read the inscription.
“This says the Order was originally based in Upper Egypt and took the sign of the rosy thorn. They follow the rules of alchemy and the secret brotherhood has lasted centuries.”
