Denied--A Novel of the Sazi

by Cathy Clamp

  Her skin seemed to vibrate from the weight of his magic pressing against her. She needed to touch his skin. The fascination that had held her transfixed at Paula’s house became a command she couldn’t ignore anymore. Her hands slid under his shirt and his moan filled her mouth. His fingers dug in just as his tongue found hers and began to twirl and dance.

  She couldn’t move, couldn’t think past the growing heat that filled her belly and spread between her legs and then through her body. When his hand lowered, cupped her bottom, her breasts tightened, felt heavy and hot. The boys she normally dated were clumsy, their foreplay rushed or rough. But Tristan’s touches were both confident and knowing. Every contact was clearly intended to heighten her arousal. She knew then he could do anything to her and she wouldn’t be able to stop him … and wouldn’t try.

  “I almost hate to interrupt you. Almost.” The baritone voice came with a blast of heat that felt like touching a hot poker in the fire. Tristan looked up sharply, saw the face of a man, and sucked in a harsh breath. He instantly pulled her behind him, shielding her from the magic that should sting but didn’t.

  “So Ahmad wasn’t wrong. You are still alive, Lagash.” The man he’d called Lagash was tall and bald, with skin the color of Ahmad’s, from the Middle East. He smelled like a railroad. She couldn’t think of a better way to describe it. It was oil, hot metal, and the bitter scent of wooden railroad ties bound to the rails. The heat in her body from Tristan’s touch turned cold and dangerous. The cold was his normal temperature. She knew that now. The overwhelming scent of anger filled the air, and she wasn’t sure who it was strongest from. She didn’t know what their past was together, but they definitely had one.

  “Oh, I’m most definitely alive. I find it amusing Ahmad couldn’t find me, right in plain sight, and that you haven’t either. You’ve passed right by me, several times. Of course, you’ve just arrived and have been a little … busy with the locals, haven’t you?” He let out a low, dark chuckle that made Anica shiver.

  The look he gave her was predatory. It was the same look she gave fish in the stream. Run. Hide. But you will still be dinner.

  Tristan’s power was flaring up, the blue from his eyes expanding to become a flame that surrounded him. It should burn her skin, should make her run screaming. Lagash didn’t raise his power, but she could feel it press against them both. Tristan’s voice was low, dangerous: “You do realize I’ve grown up, and outgrown you.”

  The other man let out a low chuckle. “You’re still a little worm, barely capable of squirming under my feet. But just as a reminder—” Lagash swept his hand sideways and a burst of wind came from nowhere. It lifted them both off their feet and threw them through the air so fast and far that it felt like she had been shot from a cannon. They hit the second-story wall of the Williams house with such force that it stole the breath from Anica’s lungs and made stars appear in her vision. They dropped to the ground and she couldn’t seem to get up.

  Tristan was immediately on his feet, as though only a light breeze had passed by them. But the one he’d called Lagash was gone. He’d melted into the blackness of the forest, leaving no trace behind. Not even a scent.

  “Damn it!” Tristan shouted in frustration. Anica was trying to get her feet under her. Everything hurt, like she had after she’d escaped the cave. It had been many years since she’d hurt this much. Tristan was immediately at her side, helping her up. “Are you all right? I’m very sorry, Anica. I shouldn’t have involved you.”

  “But you did not. You didn’t bring me to him. He came looking for you.” She truly believed that. Tristan meant no danger to her.

  “Yes. He did. And I need to find out how he knew where to look.”

  CHAPTER 10

  Why had he gotten distracted by a slip of a girl? He had Lagash in his sights. He could easily have fought him, killed him, and eliminated the threat. He could be headed back home by now. If not for protecting the girl.

  Why was he even protecting Anica? Spending precious time with her he could be using to search? Yes, she was an innocent, but many of those here were. They were damaged, fragile. But that wasn’t it.

  What was it about her?

  She let out a huff of air. “He is very angry. If he has been successfully hiding for so long, why be angry?”

  That was a very good question. “Because I could end his game?”

  She shook her head, staring at the part of the forest where he’d disappeared. “No. That is not it. He was successfully hiding. He brags about it. You see? Peppers is wrong smell. He should smell of palačinke or oranges.”

  Tristan tried to wrap his head around that. “Palačinke? Isn’t that a cheese dessert, like a blintz? Why would he smell like cheese?”

  She was animated, excited by some sort of revelation. “The snake, Bobby, he tells me of emotions that smell of food. When you are proud of me at house, it smells of palačinke. Bobby says it is the cloves, but it is more than just cloves. It is the sweet, and the rich too. And happy is oranges. Bobby says it is because I am human before Sazi. I compare scents to things I know.”

  He was starting to realize why he liked talking to her. She thought very logically, but in a way that was totally unique. “So Lagash doesn’t smell proud or happy. He smells angry.” He needed to think about that. What would cause anger after a decade alone in a small town … one that he could have left any time he wished? He could have moved anywhere. Couldn’t he have? He could have even moved home, back to Akede, or even the city named for him, Lagash. It was Iraq now, but he would be accepted there. The language had changed, but only a little, and his skin color was correct. “Let’s get you home to clean up. I need to do some thinking.”

  “But you have nowhere to sleep. We must find you room first.” She paused and turned around to stare at the house, putting her hands on her hips and cocking her head to the side long enough that her shining hair fell down to cover one eye. “Why did no one come outside?”

  “Excuse me?” But then he thought back. They hit the side of the house with enough force to likely knock items off the wall—and on the upper floor. “Why didn’t they come out?”

  “We must ask.” She trotted around to the front of the building.

  Had the wave of magic been powerful enough to have knocked out the residents of the home, or even killed them? If it had been, perhaps Lagash had lost some of his power, or his own power had increased to the point Ahmad didn’t need to fear him anymore.

  “Come.” She grabbed his hand, heading for the stairs, and the shock of electricity that had made it so easy to kiss her flowed up his arm again. “We will talk to Mrs. Williams. She will know where you can sleep. If she does not, Papa will know.”

  Her father? Oh, that would be a bad idea. “And have him smell that we’ve been kissing? After that scene at the woman’s house?”

  Realization came to her face and faded to a horrified expression that rose into her scent. “Oh! What do we do? Papa will be furious!”

  “We need to see if you can shower first, and then I need to go back to my hunt.”

  Her pretty face fell into confusion and a sad scent rose from her in a misty cloud. “Why must you kill this man? Why can he not live his life in peace?”

  Peace? Lagash had never been interested in peace. How could he explain this to her in a way that would make sense? She was so very young. “Did you ever read about modern dictators in school? Stalin? Hitler?”

  She nodded. “Yes. Of course. They were very bad men.”

  “Yes, but more—they were men on a mission. Certain people were in the way of their mission, and they needed to be eliminated. No matter who they were or whether they were innocent. They were eliminated because they were inconvenient. Long before those other men existed, others like them also had missions. Lagash and his master, Sargon, intended to rule the world. They were very good at it. Sargon was smart … truly brilliant, and powerful, both magically and physically. He created an empire. But he was heavy-handed and
in time evil, because it was so easy to be—like Stalin. People feared him. In the times he was not bad, he was a great leader, so people followed him, but warily, always watching for his next evil. Lagash, on the other hand, was charismatic, like Hitler. He could tell people exactly what they wanted to hear, and made them believe that being bad was acceptable. They followed him because they believed he was right. Which is worse?”

  Anica was listening, really listening. “I believe Hitler is worse.”

  He nodded, knowing that she was understanding. “Why?”

  “Because Stalin create horrors, but people recognize the evil and know he need to be stopped. Hitler make people think horror was okay. They allow it, ignore, and choose not to see, so it spread.”

  “Exactly. Let me show you something.” He touched her face, and when he slid into her mind she didn’t fight it. It wasn’t often he showed his memories to someone, let them live a bit of the past he’d lived through.

  He remembered the day so clearly. It was the day he knew he had to leave Akede forever. It was the day he met Ahmad, the youngest son of Sargon. Torches lit the hallways into the great hall. He hated coming to the great hall because he had grown to detest the smell of creosote, which was Lagash’s trademark. Ris could still feel the sting of the lashes to his back for daring to speak up against the killing of a cook for bringing Lagash’s dinner late. But Lagash was the cupbearer, the second in command of temple affairs. The cupbearer had the right to kill a mere cook for the oversight. Why Ris was spared death for his arrogance in speaking against Lagash he never found out.

  A crowd was milling around the audience hall, which smelled of fresh plaster and paint from the frescos that covered the walls from floor to ceiling. Brightly colored chariots raced across the walls on a pale blue and yellow backdrop, surrounded by predatory animals that mirrored the shifter residents of the town. Snakes, great cats, raptors, all shared space in the hunting scenes. Grand statues of the finest artistry filled the corners. The eyes of the snakes and lions glowed with gems that reflected the firelight and gave the appearance of magic spilling out from inside.

  When Sargon entered the room in his shining white robes, followed by his children, silence fell. Their king did not brook idle chatter.

  The children, dressed in fine linens and jewels that reflected their status, took their places behind their father’s throne, while his consort, a spider shifter who had pledged her loyalty to Sargon, curled at his feet. There were no spiders on the walls. It was too uncomfortable a reminder that even their own kind was prey to something.

  With any luck, the king would announce that the war had ended. Too many good men had gone to battle and had not come back. Too many women in the city had been pressed into service they were not suited for. Loading and unloading ships, cutting stone for the next great monument, digging troughs for water.

  Instead of Sargon speaking, however, it was Lagash who stood from his smaller throne beside Sargon’s. Excitement rose in the room, because he was always interesting to hear.

  “People of Akede, hear me! The war with Nineveh is over! Our armies have spread the light to a new people! All hail Sargon, king of Akede, overseer of Inanna, king of Kish, anointed of Anu! Sargon’s benevolence will protect those who follow him.”

  The crowd cheered, including Ris, because it was long past time for people to come home.

  “But there are still many who do not follow, who do not understand that those of us with the spirit of the animal inside were intended by the creator to rule. We are stronger, are we not?”

  “Yes!” the crowd shouted back.

  “Are we not blessed by Anu to rule over the lesser beast?”

  “Yes!” roared the crowd.

  “Too often,” Lagash said, his voice full of barely contained anger, “those who have no animal spirit rise up. They rise up in fear and shame. They strike out at us to deprive us of what we have. To make us, we blessed of Anu, feel shame. Have you not felt the anger and hatred of the lesser beasts, the traders who come but won’t stay? The citizens of other lands you may visit who run from you, or your mate, or your children, or hide their wares so you cannot buy?”

  “Yes!” the crowd shouted again. Ris could smell their rising anger.

  “It is time, people of Akede! No longer will it be a crime to bestow the gift of an animal spirit on the lesser beasts. To know the light, the life of Anu inside, to allow others to bask in the greatness of like beings, this gift, this right, must no longer be hidden away or forbidden.”

  There was a hush, while the people tried to understand what was being said.

  “Do you not wish that all of your families could feel the joy of the animal spirit?”

  A few shouted, “Yes!” But not all. There was a nervousness.

  “Do you not wish that wherever you walked, you could know and trust the other man as a brother or sister of Anu?”

  Now more people shouted, “Yes!”

  “Then know that the blessing of Sargon is with you! Know that you, the highest of the high, the blessed of the blessed, may share your animal with all you encounter. If they are strong enough, if Anu wills, they will be turned and will come to understand the joy that we each know! The people of Akede will reign supreme. Go forth and take your families to the widest reaches of the world. Build your homes and share the spirit of Anu with all you encounter. Those who are not chosen by Anu will fall and you, as the blessed, will be entitled to what they leave behind. You will become more blessed with each life you touch, the riches you add to your own from those who Anu turns away from.”

  “Yes!”

  Ris felt uneasy, seeing the growing fervor of the crowd. Was Sargon truly condoning the forcible turning of humans? Tristan looked past Lagash to the thrones—to see the reaction of the royals. Was this their wish, or just idle words from a Second? But no, Sargon was smiling, that dark smile that barely held back his fangs. The reactions of the children were mixed. A few smiled just as eagerly. Encouraging it—and telling people to take possession of the property of those who could not make the change? When someone was turned, there were only two options: change and survive, or die a hideous death. The more mercenary among the Sazi would surely target the wealthiest humans first. Undoubtedly, many would die.

  “All of you may share the joy today!” At Lagash’s gesture, Sargon’s elite guard, wearing the golden snake headbands of their office and carrying heavy bronze spears, pulled four people, a man, a woman, and two children, into the room. The family—it was clear they were related—were cowering in fear, and no wonder. They were full human.

  “This family is not of the spirit of Anu. They are from the newly protected city of Nineveh. We will share the light with them today.”

  Lagash turned into a massive lion. The humans screamed but the guards held them firmly. Lagash pounced, ripping a wide slash of claws across the husband’s chest, leaving him barely alive. Even now, centuries later, Tristan couldn’t erase the memory of fur and claws. But it was a lie—years later Tristan had learned the truth, that Lagash had never shifted at all. The “claws” had been knives, the lion … an illusion. Lagash was a cobra shifter, like his King. But back then, Tristan saw a lion, saw the blood paint massive claws. The screams of terror, the twin scents of blood and fear, made his pulse pound for the chase. Lagash fell next on the wife and then the children. Soon they all lay near death on the floor, their blood pooling in an ever-growing circle. “This is the proper way. They live. They breathe, and soon, they will be filled with the animal spirit … Anu willing.”

  Human again and covered in blood, Lagash said, “Guards, take them, but gently. Anoint them with healing herbs and allow them to rest until the spirit comes to them.” He turned to the crowd. “Can you not feel the animal spirit inside you, longing to bring others to the light?”

  Eyes all over the room were glowing with magic, the savagery of what they had just witnessed making the predator come to the front. “Yes!”

  “Then go forth! S
argon blesses you all. Bring the light to others.” Lagash dipped his right hand in the spilled blood and touched the faces of several people near him, leaving a red handprint behind. They turned away, leaving the throne room; Ris saw more than one person touch the mark, then lick the blood from their fingers. Soon a line had formed, Sazi eager to be anounted. Ris felt sick. Permission had been given for a massacre. There would be far more deaths than successful turns, and those who survived turning would be mentally scarred, perhaps completely unable to function.

  He looked around the room, filled with too many scents to sort out, feeling overwhelmed by the fervor of a dozen emotions from a hundred people. He backed away, ducking into the hallway, cutting his own hand on the sharp edge of a stone so he would have blood on his face with the others. The guards would be watching to see who were believers. Those who were unanointed would likely never make it out of the palace.

  As he watched, another man did the same thing. He was one of the children of Sargon, Rimush, the youngest, who often bore the lash and fangs of Sargon’s enforcer, Nasil. Ris had seen him before, but always at such a distance that Ris had not been able to sense his emotions. They shared a glance and then more, as the younger man suddenly let down the magical shield that made him appear weak and fearful.

  He was neither. Now Ris saw him as he truly was for the first time. Not only would Rimush likely grow to become his father’s rival; he also was appalled at what he’d just seen. Ris wondered why the young royal would share such personal information with a lowly servant.

  Just as quickly as the moment happened, it ended, and Rimush’s horror and anger were replaced by his usual blank face and scent.

  The image in Tristan’s mind of the young Ahmad faded. When the forest reappeared, Anica’s eyes were wider and more horror filled than before. But she didn’t hesitate this time. “Is this true? It happened?”

  He nodded. “I shared a memory with you. It was long ago, but I cannot forget the sights, the sounds, the smells of that day. Is it the same man you saw today? The same scent?”