Nation of the Sun (The Ancient Souls Series Book 1)

by HR Moore

  Amari slowed as they approached Chancery Lane tube station, turning suddenly down a side street. Caspar caught her arm, pulling her to a halt, both of them out of breath.

  'Amari, what are you doing?' he panted.

  'I'm trying to get away from you, in case you hadn't noticed.'

  'Why? What have I done?'

  A shadow crossed behind her eyes. She shook her head, yanking her arm away. 'Nothing,' she said, storming off up the street.

  Caspar followed. 'Talk to me. Tell me what happened.'

  'It's none of your God-damned business.'

  'It might be good for you to get it off your chest; you always find that helpful.'

  She whirled around. 'Don't pretend you know me; you know nothing about my life. And I didn't want you around in my last two lives, so maybe you should take the hint and leave me alone.'

  Her words stunned him, ripping a hole in his chest. He didn't even bother to look around, to see if anyone else had heard her speak of multiple lives. She doesn't know, he reminded himself. She didn't know all that had gone before. But that didn't make the words hurt any less.

  Amari turned, walking up a set of worn stone steps into her office building.

  'I'll leave you alone,' said Caspar, 'I promise, but not until the others get here. I can't leave you unprotected. If anything happened …'

  Amari paused at the top and turned to face him, but something over her shoulder caught Caspar's attention.

  'Down!' he shouted, pulling a knife from his sleeve and throwing it, just as a blade hit the wood of the door frame next to Amari's head.

  Caspar's knife struck their attacker in the shoulder, forcing him to drop his second blade. But another figure appeared out of the shadows, dagger in hand.

  Caspar grabbed Amari's arm. She was frozen to the spot, and for a short, terrifying moment, he thought she would fight him. He hauled her down the steps, and, to his relief, she sprang into action as soon as her feet hit the bottom.

  They ran, Caspar glad of the people everywhere. They'd travelled almost a hundred meters before he had space to glance back over his shoulder. Both attackers followed.

  'Shit,' he said, 'they're still coming. We need to get to the tunnels.'

  'Where?' asked Amari.

  'The post office in Clerkenwell. There's a tunnel that'll take us to Liverpool Street.'

  They made a series of quick turns, weaved in and out of the suit-clad army, and dashed across a busy road just as the lights changed, much to the outrage of the morning traffic.

  They had to wait to cross the next road, the traffic in full flow. Amari looked behind them, frantically scanning for any sign of pursuit.

  'Caspar, I can't see them.'

  The lights changed and he grabbed her hand, pulling her across the road, down an alley next to a busy café, pushing her back out of sight. He peered around the edge of the building, scanning the crowd.

  'I can't see them either,' he said, pulling out his phone. 'Rose is close. She knows where we are. We'll wait here. If they're still around, hopefully they won't risk a fight in the open.'

  Caspar tore his eyes from the road and glanced back at Amari. She was backed against the wall, her head pressed firmly against it, fists clenched at her side.

  It was so easy to forget she was new to all of this. So easy for her to think that normal rules applied, that people wouldn't throw knives at her for no obvious reason. Raina would have fought back, would have easily taken them down.

  In truth, the assassins had been sloppy. If they'd been better at their jobs, both Amari and Caspar would be dead, but Amari didn't remember that yet. And Caspar had been distracted. If anything had happened …

  He turned his head back to scan the crowd. 'Still nothing,' he said, trying to adopt a soothing tone. 'They most likely decided a chase was too conspicuous; too likely that someone would pull out a phone and film us. We're safe here, and Rose is two minutes away.'

  Amari didn't respond. Caspar wasn't even sure she'd heard him, but he kept talking to her, reassuring her, until the welcome trio of Rose, Gemma, and Meredith appeared from the back of a dark blue Jaguar with diplomatic plates. The car swiftly departed.

  'What happened?' asked Rose.

  Meredith and Gemma surveyed the area, refusing to turn their backs to the street.

  'Two assassins were waiting at Amari's office building,' said Caspar. 'They threw a knife at Amari. I hit one of them in the shoulder, then we ran. They chased us, but not for long; I guess there were too many witnesses, and one of them was bleeding.

  'They both had leather cuffs around their wrists, although I didn't see the markings. I didn't recognize either of them, and they didn't speak. They were amateurs; we caught them off guard.'

  The sound of hyperventilating interrupted them, and Caspar turned to find Amari crouched in the gutter.

  'It would be very convenient for us all if she would wake up,' said Rose.

  Caspar threw her a dirty look, then went to Amari's side. He helped her stand. She was pale and shaking.

  'We need to get back to the cottage,' said Caspar.

  'Car's here,' said Meredith, from the mouth of the ally.

  Gemma scanned for threats from the other side of the street.

  'Okay,' said Amari, letting Caspar lead her.

  They piled into the back of a spacious seven-seater minivan. One of Meredith's team of bodyguards was driving, another jumping out to slide open the side door.

  Rose, Meredith, and Gemma sat on the back row, Caspar and Amari taking the seats in front. Amari was still shaking.

  'Do we have a blanket?' asked Caspar. 'Or a coat?'

  One of the bodyguards passed back a lightweight coat, and Caspar put it over Amari's lap. She didn't even look at him.

  The driver maneuvered the van out into the traffic, the silence loud in Caspar's ears. Amari leaned her head against the window, staring blankly out.

  Caspar was paralyzed, conflicted. Should he take her hand? Wrap his arm around her? Would she push him away? Would he make it worse?

  She was in shock, that much was clear. But she was teetering on a knife edge … he didn't want to be the one to push her over.

  Eventually, he reached out and placed his hand on hers. She stiffened, then flipped her hand over, lacing their fingers. Caspar's heart thumped.

  Rose deployed Meredith and one of the bodyguards when they neared Amari's office building.

  'Search it and see what you can get in terms of CCTV,' she said, 'and see if you can find a trail of blood from the shoulder wound.' She turned her attention to her phone, typing furiously, presumably contacting her demon in the police.

  'Didn't think we'd be seeing you so early,' said Jon, nudging Elliot on the shoulder.

  Elliot remained silent.

  'Did she kick you out? Come to her senses?'

  'Rose needed me,' said Gemma with surprising force, as she, Amari, and Caspar entered the kitchen.

  'Shit, sorry,' said Jon, his face going red. 'Um … I've got to go to work. You know I'm just messing around though, right? I'm really happy for you guys.'

  Gemma gave Jon a dirty look as he left.

  He sent one last apology over his shoulder.

  'Rose wants to speak to you,' Gemma said to Elliot.

  They left the room together, Elliot's hand placed lovingly on Gemma's lower back.

  Amari and Caspar stood still for a moment, the enormity of what had almost happened weighing heavy. Amari walked to where the dogs lay by the unlit fire. She sank to the floor, pulling her knees up to her chest. Delta rolled over, begging her to scratch his tummy.

  Caspar put the kettle on, giving both of them a few solitary moments. He made tea, adding a large teaspoon of sugar to Amari's, then placed it next to her on the floor.

  Caspar sat too, careful not to crowd her, leaning back against the fire surround. Charlie got up and moved to where Caspar sat, flopping down heavily, partially on Caspar's legs. They sat in silence, letting the minutes tick by, dr
inking their tea, stroking the dogs.

  Caspar waited for Amari to talk first. He would have sat there all day, waiting, not wanting to press her.

  Eventually she looked up at him, a new understanding in her eyes.

  'I never thought …' She faltered and looked away. 'I didn't think we were in real danger. I didn't see the first attack. I convinced myself you were exaggerating.'

  Caspar scratched behind Charlie's ear. 'What happened?' he said softly. 'This morning, when you were in the cloisters?'

  Amari looked straight into Caspar's eyes. 'Dean accused me of having an affair.'

  Caspar's heartrate shot up. 'Ah …' He tried to find the right words, but she continued before he could, dropping her gaze to Delta.

  'I was angry, and I wanted … no … needed to … to do something, to break out of here, to vent.' She took a breath. 'I'm sorry. That man … he was aiming at me; it was me they wanted.'

  Tears rolled down her cheeks. She lowered her head, wiping them quickly away.

  'Why do they want me?'

  Caspar scooched up next to her, still careful not to get too close. He rubbed her back in soothing circles. 'Hey, it's okay, we got away.'

  She sobbed, turning herself into him, shifting closer.

  Caspar's chest ached as he wrapped one arm around her, his other hand stroking her hair.

  'Honestly, I don't know why they want you, but at least now we know it's you they want. That narrows our search significantly.'

  Another sob wracked Amari's body. 'I'm sorry; I don't usually cry all the time.'

  He kissed the top of her head and squeezed her arm. 'Crying's good, remember? You're in shock, and your brain's waging an internal war; it would be weird if you weren't crying.'

  'And I'm in limbo,' she said. She sat up and wiped her eyes. 'I'm going to go mad, cooped up in here with nothing to do. How long do we wait, sitting around, hoping I'm going to wake up?'

  'Considerably longer than we have so far, given you've only been here for a couple of days.'

  'And what if I don't wake up before Dean gets back? Do I end things with him based on something that might never happen? What if I never wake up?'

  'You will,' said Caspar, with more force than necessary. Everyone woke up eventually … didn't they?

  'You don't know that.'

  'There are still things we can try. The other night, when we were dancing …' Caspar broke off; this wasn't the time.

  'That wasn't me,' she said, hotly.

  'I know,' he rushed to say. 'That's what I was going to say. It was Raina; I felt the shift in you. And then the song ended, and she went back to sleep. Every day, more flecks appear in your eyes. Every day we get a little closer. It won't be long now.'

  'And I'm supposed to sit around doing nothing, trapped in here, just … hoping?'

  'There are things we can do.'

  'Like what?'

  'Well, for starters, there are plenty of artifacts around the place for you to study. Some should bring back memories. And, if nothing else, most of them are pretty to look at.'

  Amari sniffed. 'Fine,' she said, giving her face one last wipe. 'Show me the way.'

  Caspar led Amari to a study further along the corridor from Rose's. It was bigger than Rose's and had two desks, one at each end, with a seating area of low couches in the middle.

  One end was neat, everything put away, books lined up, clear space on the desk. The other was a state, with books, papers, coffee cups, and ancient treasures strewn everywhere.

  'I take it that's your desk?' Amari teased, feeling more like herself at the prospect of doing some work.

  'It is,' he laughed. 'And the one over there is yours.'

  'As in, it was Raina's?' she asked, both keen and apprehensive to explore.

  'Yep. For the last few lifetimes, anyway.'

  Amari walked to the desk and put her hand on it. She braced for a flashback, but none came, at least not until she sat in the chair and put both hands on the leather-topped wood.

  The memory was only a flash across her mind, but it was intimate, Caspar's eyes in an unfamiliar body, his hands pushing her back onto the desk, skirts up around her hips.

  Amari's face flushed crimson. Caspar looked away and pulled out a set of keys.

  Drawers and glass display cases covered the far wall from floor to ceiling. The wood was dark, reminding her of the drawers in Caspar's other office, the one where the first attack had taken place. The drawers each had a little brass plate with a keyhole in the center, and a rush of excitement filled her as her brain conjured images of what might be inside.

  Caspar went to one of the drawers, unlocked it, and pulled out a piece of pottery. It was a small, thick-sided bowl, almost perfect, aside from a couple of chips around the rim. It was pinkish orange and glazed, with light ridges pressed around the outside.

  'Oh my God,' said Amari, as Caspar put the bowl on the desk in front of her. 'How old is that?'

  Caspar laughed. 'Only about a thousand years.'

  'Jesus … you're not even wearing gloves!'

  'Why would I? I made it.'

  'You made it?' Amari's brain struggled to keep up.

  'It's a wedding cup. The bride and groom both drink from it.'

  'This is so exciting!'

  Amari could barely contain herself. Having access to artifacts like this, along with the person who made it … it was … well, there were no words to describe what it was.

  'That ring on your finger,' said Caspar, pointing to the gold band Amari still couldn't bring herself to take off, 'is considerably older than this.'

  Amari ran her thumb over the band, trying to take it all in. 'And there are other things here, like this? So old?'

  'My dear, this is the boring tip of the iceberg in comparison to the veritable treasures stored in this building. The only reason this is of note is because it might spark a memory.'

  'The tip of the iceberg?' Her pulse raced, her mouth dry, head spinning.

  'Recognize that painting behind you?' he asked, with a mischievous smile.

  Amari stood and whirled around, her eyes locking onto the hazy image of a bridge. 'Oh my God. Is that … is that a Monet?'

  'It is,' he said, walking around to her side and perching on the edge of the desk. 'And not just any Monet. This is one of the series Monet painted of Charing Cross Bridge. I bought it and left it to a museum when I died. It was stolen from that museum, and to this day the police have no idea who did it.'

  Amari scowled. 'You stole it from a museum?'

  'Heavens, no! I tracked it down and stole it back, for a bit of fun. I even faked its destruction. Many believe it was burned in a fire. Little do they know it's hanging, safe and sound, behind your desk. I thought you might like it.'

  'I love it,' said Amari, without thinking. 'It's beautiful.'

  'It won't help bring you back. You hated me when I bought it, so this is the first time you've seen it. But it might bring you some joy.'

  Amari smiled. 'It already has.'

  'Good. Now touch the cup.'

  'Without gloves?' It seemed wrong.

  Caspar thrust it into her hands. 'Yes, without gloves.'

  Amari reverently took hold of the priceless artifact. After a moment, an image popped into her mind. She was momentarily disoriented, but not sure if it was her, or Raina, who felt that way.

  She looked down and saw a hand—Raina's hand—placed on top of a man's. They stood before a priestess, next to a river, a small crowd standing around them.

  The priestess—who might have been Talli—was tying their hands together with a length of embroidered cloth, saying words that Amari couldn't make out. She could have understood them, if only Raina had been paying attention. But Raina's whole being was focused on the sensation of Caspar's skin against hers. Their hands bound together caused an inferno in her blood, consuming her. She itched to be alone with him, to douse the flames.

  The memory ended abruptly, and Amari placed the bowl on the desk, disappoint
ed not to have seen more.

  'It was so short,' she said to Caspar. 'I think Talli was tying my hand to yours?'

  'Pagan hand-tying ceremony,' said Caspar. 'It was probably one of our marriage ceremonies. We've had a number of them. Now, let's see, what next …'

  'Next? I want to talk more about the wedding.'

  'Later. We might have to work through every drawer on that wall, so we need to keep moving.'

  Amari took in the vast number of drawers. There must have been hundreds, all different shapes and sizes; they were going to be here for days.

  'And once we're done in here, if you're still not awake, we can ask the others what they've got that could help. Some of us like to hoard more than others. Believe it or not, you and I take a streamlined approach, relatively speaking.'

  'If you say so,' said Amari, glancing again at the drawers. 'Okay, what's next?'

  Amari sat in bed that evening, staring at her phone, which told her she'd missed three calls from Dean. She knew she should call him, but she'd had such an emotional day, she wasn't sure she could take any more.

  A knock sounded from the door. Relieved, she threw down the phone. 'Come in!'

  'Hey,' said Caspar. 'Just delivering the books you wanted. Meredith got them from your office.'

  'Thanks. On the table's great.'

  'Have a good night,' he said, turning to leave.

  'Caspar,' she blurted, 'do you mind … staying for a bit?'

  Caspar faltered, surprised. 'Of course,' he said, sitting on the end of the bed.

  Amari clenched her fingers. 'I really am sorry about earlier.'

  'Don't be,' said Caspar, waving her apology away. 'It was barely even a scrape versus some of the things we've been through.'

  Amari shuddered. 'That doesn't make me feel any better.'

  'Sorry. I could lie to you, but I'm not sure that would help.'

  She smiled. 'I wish you would do that more.'

  'Lie to you?!' He laughed.