by Allie Burton
He swallowed, feeling the cold steel against his skin. He could play dirty, too. Do the talking of the trash. “At least I’m not pining for a girl who died centuries ago.”
Ash went slack on top of him. The knife tumbled into the grass. He rolled off and landed on his back, staring blankly at the sky.
Pushing himself on his elbows, Antony watched the color seep from Ash’s face. Watched his eyes grow darker than the night sky.
Antony felt his brother’s sorrow as if the knife had slashed his throat. Teasing was a good distraction during their practice battles, except sometimes you cut too deep. This was one of those times.
“Hey, man. I’m sorry.” He stood and held out his hand to his fellow Soul Warrior.
Ash took his hand and yanked himself to his feet, hiding any emotional injury. “I’m cool. Olivia and Xander want an update. You should go inside.”
“You sure you’re okay?”
“Yes. I’m good.” Ash bent and picked up the knife, effectively hiding his face.
The Soul Warrior didn’t talk much about his past. He’d known a great love and lost her. Antony didn’t know how. Wasn’t sure if he wanted to know. They’d both known despair at the hands of a woman. Neither wanted to repeat the experience.
* * *
The slam of warriors being thrown to the mat greeted Antony when he got inside the secret basement of the professor’s house. The freshly painted walls tickled his nostrils, and the pounding of nails mixed with the whir of drills. Construction of their new headquarters was almost complete.
Finally, they’d have a real home, in which to live and work and strategize and fight.
He waved to Aria and Falcon and Piper and Math, who were training on the mat together. They wore dark sweats and the girls had the two guys pinned down. New to the Soul Warriors, Aria and Piper had grown fast with their powers. And Falcon and Math had become their constant companions. Not slaves or servants, but boyfriends.
The workings of their relationships surprised him. They worked and battled together, kind of lived together—although the two girls slept upstairs—and they dated. They’d each met because of a quest. A sharpness poked his chest, forcing him to think and realize. He was now on a quest with CC. A female who had captured his attention not because of the Knot of Uset, but in spite of it.
The large room Antony entered was filled with mats and punching bags and targets. Here, they practiced their fighting skills and power training. Both Aria and Piper had received magical powers from the ancient relics they’d helped find. Both trumpets of King Tut’s, the instruments no longer held unimaginable and destructive power, and each of the girls possessed their own magic.
His powers came from when their leader destroyed a magical orb that burst upon the stone shabtis. He’d went from stone to human in minutes, and from a dynasty far in the past to present day. Talk about shocking.
“Antony,” Olivia, the Soul Warrior leader, marched in from a classroom. She wore dark jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt. Her long, brown braid swung with her movement. “Did you get the Knot of Uset?”
Her question was more of a demand. From Olivia it didn’t grate. She was the true leader of the group, and once hosted King Tut’s soul in her body. She was from this time period, and received her powers directly from the ancient Pharaoh.
“No.” Disgust at himself made the word harsher. “Didn’t Ash tell you the magical Knot wasn’t in the package?”
“He said only a worthless crown was in the box.” She pulled her braid forward and started to untwist her hair. Her fingernails were painted a hot pink. “And you went back with Cleopatra Carruthers to get the Knot.”
“Cleopatra doesn’t know anything about the Knot of Uset. She thinks they’re after the crown.” Antony believed she was innocent. She had no clue of the power she had in her possession. “She said her aunt sent a package with the crown, and now the aunt is in danger.”
“Where is the Knot?” Xander stepped out from the same room Olivia had earlier. He appeared similar to the other Soul Warriors, with his dark hair and green eyes. The biggest difference—he was from this time period, drafted by the current Society of Aten and abandoned.
“Cleopatra doesn’t know anything about the Knot.” Antony spat.
“And yet, she is invisible.” Xander’s logical analysis clawed at Antony’s frustration, making it shoot higher.
He knew the facts. Had seen the evidence.
“Maybe she’s lying.” Ash wandered into the room eating a handful of grapes. He wasn’t any help when it came to females.
“No.” Antony knew she didn’t realize what the Knot was or understand its importance. If he asked about a magical golden rope she’d know he’d befriended her for one reason only. Pain spasmed in his chest. He didn’t want her to think he’d used her. Not that it mattered what she thought of him. “Cleopatra told me there wasn’t anything else in the box.”
“Why would you believe her? She obviously has possession of the golden rope.” Ash tossed a grape at his head.
Antony swatted it away.
With lightning-fast reflexes, Olivia snatched the grape mid-air. “Maybe Cleopatra doesn’t realize she has an ancient relic.”
“Cleopatra, or CC as she wants to be called, said there was nothing else in the box except for packaging to protect the crown.”
Olivia raised her dark eyebrows in an exaggerated fashion.
“The packaging.” Antony wanted to smack himself on the forehead. “The crown must’ve been wrapped in the golden rope of the Knot of Uset. CC doesn’t even realize that’s the prize, and she’s activated the Knot’s powers.”
“Which is why she’s invisible.” Xander stole a grape from Ash, and popped it in his mouth.
Antony’s heart clutched. “And why she’s still in danger.” He paced toward Olivia, thinking out loud. “I didn’t deliver the package. I opened the box and was so disappointed and angry CC had tricked me, I threw the crown on the ground.”
After he’d saved her from the kidnapping, he’d realized she hadn’t tricked him, because she didn’t have a clue about the Knot or its value. Pacing forward, he came to a sudden halt. “The people who were expecting the package received nothing, not even the stupid crown. They probably think CC tricked them, too.”
He didn’t deserve to be in charge of this quest, because he’d stupidly left her alone in her residence hall with no protection. He’d told her she was safe and not to worry. Now he worried. Worried for her.
Xander grabbed his arm. “Does she have any clue the depth of the trouble she’s in? The type of people who are after her?”
“You need to get the Knot of Uset from her and you need to protect her.” Olivia ordered. An order Antony wanted to obey. “Protect her from a danger she doesn’t even know exists.”
A shiver of fear raced up his spine. He didn’t want anything happening to CC, and he didn’t want to examine his feelings too closely. He would not fall for her, his logical mind insisted. He would not become her slave.
Chapter Eight
Cleo
“Expelled!” The word screeched out of my lungs, scraping my throat and my pride. “But…but you can’t expel me.”
The headmaster’s office spun around as if I were on a carnival ride. The shelves filled with books and trophies, the desk with the files and papers on top, and the chair I sat in didn’t tumble and fall on my internal ride. They twirled in my head. Or maybe I was the only one twirling.
Twirling with despair.
“You’ve been given plenty of warnings, Cleo.” Headmaster Griffin’s lips pursed below his thin, brown mustache and he made a tut, tut, tut noise.
He didn’t sympathize with me. Didn’t care I’d been improving my attitude and my work ethic. Didn’t care I’d actually been in the AP Euro class even if no one could see me.
Pressure built and my spinning head wanted to blow. In the past, it would’ve blown and bribed and begged. Squeezing my hands into fists, I controlled the
urge.
“Exceptions have been made for you in the past.” He snapped the thick manila folder on his desk closed. “Not showing up for a major presentation was the final straw.”
The expulsion shouldn’t be a surprise. We’d had meetings before. My parents, or at least their money, had persuaded the headmaster to make an exception. Or two. When I’d seen the note on my board last night, I knew this meeting wouldn’t go well.
Worry had sunk in my belly like when I watched a bad fashion week runway show. I hadn’t thought he’d expel me for real.
“I prepared to give my presentation.” Misery clawed inside my midsection, shooting distress everywhere. I’d worked hard on my presentation, put hours of work into it, only to be ignored by the teacher. “I was in class.”
“According to Mr. Bartlett, you never came to class.” Headmaster Griffin leaned forward on his desk. He peered at me trying to see deep in my soul. Trying to figure out what made me tick.
No one ever bothered to see the real me beneath my veneer of money and sophistication. They didn’t care, as long as I could pay to party.
The clawing scraped into desperation. “Mr. Bartlett must have something against me. He called my name and I stood. He kept calling my name as if he didn’t see me.”
“Can any of your classmates vouch you were there?”
If I bribed them.
It had been weird no one had seen me in class. Had it been an elaborate joke?
Recalling my disbelief at the situation, I remembered my funny faces and cartwheels, and how no one, no one, reacted. They hadn’t seen me, either.
The shock slapped my face and my cheek tingled. “It was like I was invisible.” The words dazed out of my mouth.
“Invisible?” A gleam appeared in his gaze.
My burning cheeks cooled with panic. Of course, Headmaster Griffin didn’t believe me. “That sounded stupid. I don’t know how to explain.”
Antony had seen me when I’d hurried out of class. He’d even described my clothes. The receptionist in Henderson Hall waved. No one sat on me riding the bus.
Invisible was how I always felt around my parents.
Unimportant. Inconsequential. An annoyance.
My mind scrambled for a better answer. Picturing my parents in my mind, I did what they would do. Throw my money and importance around. I hated doing it, thought I’d become a better person, but sometimes you had to go with what worked. “My parents will be furious you’re expelling me. They’ve donated big money to this school.”
The headmaster steepled his hands together on the desk. His expression changed to one of disappointment. “We appreciate their generosity.” His stiff words appeared practiced, dealing with unruly rich kids was part of his job. “If their child doesn’t want to be here, demonstrates no effort, there isn’t much more we can do. Exeter Academy doesn’t accept failure.”
My hope caught at the line he didn’t know he’d cast. “I want to be here.” Well, to prove to my parents I’d behave so I could go home. If I got kicked out of here, they’d ship me off to juvenile justice school. To a place with ugly uniforms and nightly bed checks.
His long, bony fingers tapped against each other. “Tell me something, Cleopatra.”
“CC.” I grimaced after giving him my automatic response to my name. I should let him call me whatever he wanted, because he had the power to make my life better or impossible.
He angled his head and studied me. “Tell me something.”
I kept my body stiff and my attention focused. “Yes?”
“Why don’t you enjoy being called Cleopatra? It’s quite an honor to be named after the ancient Egyptian queen, who ruled her people with power and love.” His voice rose with worship.
Odd question that had nothing to do with being expelled. “I prefer CC.”
“Do you know anything about their real religion, and the powerful relics that helped bring Cleopatra to power?” Headmaster Griffin apparently had a boner for the ancient queen.
“No.” Why were we having this conversation, I wanted to scream. This wasn’t relevant or important.
“Legend says,” His tone rose higher and then he schooled his expression as if trying to calm himself. “Uset gifted a magical Knot to Queen Cleopatra.”
“Interesting.” Not. “Let’s get back to talking about school. About what would benefit this school.” My mind calculated what most administrators at this level wanted. “I noticed in the library there’s stacks housing the books and an old card-catalogue system.” I added derision the way Mother would’ve done. “I’ve attended other private schools, where everything is automated. Computers locate books. Robotic arms retrieve the books from the shelves. A modern system would be quite impressive. And expensive.”
His steepled hands fell down to the top of the desk.
“My family has contacts in the industry.” I sounded cold and calculating, resembling my mother. Maybe she’d even be proud of my persuasion technique. Nothing else I did impressed her. My mouth tasted bitter. I did not want to be like Mother, but if the designer shoe fit… “I’m pretty sure my parents and I could find a way to get the system installed at Exeter Academy…if I was a student.”
“Are you attempting to bribe me, Ms. Carruthers?” His hardness suggested judge and jury.
And I was the one being convicted. I’d look terrible in prison jumpsuit orange. “No, no, no. I was just saying…”
Mother never would’ve backed down. She would’ve thrown more money until he had no choice except to agree. I wasn’t Mother and never would be, and I never should’ve tried to play her part.
“You have until the end of the week to move out of Henderson Hall.” He pushed his chair back and stood. “Will you call your parents, or shall I?”
* * *
Before even thinking about calling my parents, I needed stress relief—or what I called shopping therapy. Not any shopping, either. I headed to my friend Demetri’s design store and workshop on Maiden Lane in Union Square. Entering the shop, I took a deep breath and let the scent of the natural fabrics of cotton, silk and cashmere soothe me. Mannequins featuring Demetri’s latest designs stood in the shop window, and racks of clothes circled around the shop, coordinated by size, color, and design.
Past the elegant dressing rooms, a single seamstress worked at an industrial sewing machine. The whirring of the machine comforted. Steam puffed from the always-hot iron on the ironing board, and dress forms were decorated with muslin fabric pinned in place.
I nodded at the shop clerk and seamstress. “Where’s Demetri?”
The clerk grinned, knowing the dollars I spent, knowing I’d expect immediate attention. “Backroom.”
Where the real design work was done.
“Thanks.” I headed toward the design-only space. “Demetri?” I knocked on the door. I was a frequent visitor to the drafting and design area.
“CC.” Demetri slammed a book closed and tucked it under his drafting table. “You got my message about the samples. I was expecting you last night. I was worried.” He wrapped his thin arms around me and gave a tight hug.
I let the hug linger, needing the support. Demetri was a real friend. He liked me for me. Understood my needs, and knew what looked best on my frame.
He wore an adapted cowboy hat decorated with rhinestones covering his bald head. His dark skin sported no facial hair. If I didn’t know the man was in his forties, I never would’ve guessed. He appeared ageless.
Sketches and line drawings littered his desktop. Photos were pinned to the large bulletin board above his table. Fluorescent lights provided ample light to work.
Pulling out of his arms, I clapped my hands together in a goody-goody action. “Can I see?”
“I only give my special customers early peeks.” He winked at me, letting me know I was special.
Warmth flowed through my veins, and a real smile lit my face. Someone thought I was special and deserved extra attention.
“What’s happening in th
e world of Cleopatra Carruthers?” His skeletal facial structure pinched together more. His brown eyes showed interest. “Any big news? Special deliveries? Important upcoming dates?”
His questions reminded me that my aunt hadn’t returned my calls, and Antony hadn’t called, either. After I got my shopping fix, I might need to call them. “Not really. How about you?”
He wheeled out a rack of clothes. “I’ve got a big customer flying in from overseas. He has a teenage daughter around your age. I’m hoping she appreciates some of the new samples.”
“I thought I was your favorite customer.” My first day in San Francisco I’d discovered his shop, and I’d been here almost every day since.
“Of course you are.” He fawned and I relished the attention.
Enjoyed the special consideration and the compliments. Enjoyed being seen for me. Enjoyed forgetting I’d have to tell my parents I’d been expelled from Exeter Academy.
Selecting a sheath dress, I held the silky fabric to my body. Would Antony appreciate me in this?
I picked up a taffeta blouse with a round collar, decorated with a green jewel. “What stone is this?”
“Lapis lazuli.”
I’d never heard of it. I put the top back and pulled out a thin, sheer, bodice-hugging top with a short skirt.
The choker collar featured studs of metal and clutched high around the neck. The shimmering, gold, sheer material would cling to the body. Circular black armor patterns draped over the shoulders and breasts and met at the waist. A leather belt hung loosely on the hips, where the pattern continued, barely covering a person’s private area. The sheer gold material gathered at the waist and flowed into a very short skirt.
I’d describe it as military meets madness.
Checking the tag, I noted the outfit was my size.
I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing it. The half-body suit was something Kim Kardashian would wear. Or an actress in an action-packed fantasy movie with a strong female heroine. Coming from the upper class, East Coast, I was more modest in my fashion choices.