by Jean Murray
“Does it always ache,” Kendra wondered out loud when she rubbed her own chest. Like a case of severe indigestion that even antacids wouldn’t cure.
Inpu watched her briefly, seeming to formulate his words. “In bonded mates, yes. It is a manifestation of the emotional separation.”
“Wait, did you say mates?” She asked. She assumed the physical connection of the blood-bond caused it. “What are you saying? That I am emotionally mated to Bakari?”
“Are you?” the priest asked with the calm directness.
“No! I feel nothing for him,” she barked, but the pain worsened in her chest, as if it detected her own lie. She groaned.
“The emotional bonding must be mutual for it to occur.”
Kendra shot to her feet and started to pace, not wanting any of this. Emotional. Physical. Mated. Hadn’t he taken enough from her? “Damn him.”
“I do not advocate one way or another. It is your choice.”
“Damn right it is,” she growled with venom. “Bakari is not my mate.” Despite the fortitude of which she spoke, the ache in her chest remained along with the sense of loss. He may not be her mate, but he sure did have her heart.
“Nebt, love.” Inpu rose and walked over to his Underworld goddess. Nebt had been in the human world assisting Kit with the hunt for Menthu. The priest’s eyes flickered with that same glow that Asar’s had when he looked at Lilly.
Kendra deflected her gaze, not wanting to see the heart-felt reunion and jealous that the ache in his chest would dissipate. Hers remained like a molten comet eating its way through her soul. Could Inpu be right about the emotional bond with Bakari? He said it had to be mutual. So what did that mean exactly? Bakari cared for her so much he simply had to kill himself and take her with him?
Funny, how she rarely expressed her anger a day in her life before this all happened and now rage consumed her thoughts. Nothing that a pint of Ben and Jerry’s couldn’t cure. She could use some soul food.
Taking a deep breath and masking her irritation, she turned to face the happily mated couple. She smiled. “Same time tomorrow?”
Inpu nodded with a smile that reached his eyes. Nebt watched her intently. Despite the serene smile on her face, her eyes didn’t reflect the same joy as her mate’s. Maybe they had little success in locating the War god. Kendra bit back the question, knowing it would prolong her stay. She couldn’t be around them, not right now anyways.
She tucked her hands into her robe and headed for the door. “Have a nice evening,” she chirped out, trying to sound unaffected. Nebt’s gaze followed her to the door.
“Kendra, I almost forgot.” Nebt intercepted her. “Bomani asked how you were feeling and hoped you would dine with him tonight.”
The goddess brushed her fingers over Kendra’s cheek. Her skin tingled at the contact. Kendra gritted her teeth and tried not to jerk from her touch. Nebt was only trying to help and she had already been downright rude to the goddess.
“Thank you,” Kendra said, truthfully. “I’ve been busy this week. I’m sure he is worried.” Nebt broke her touch and smiled. Busy— code word for too embarrassed to face him after how she had acted.
The goddess held the door open for her to pass. None too soon, because Kendra couldn’t breathe. She dashed back to her room. With her hand on the door, she glanced toward the dining room. Bomani hated the palace and only came because of her. How many nights had he sat in that dining room waiting for her? None she hoped, but didn’t think that was the case.
She slipped into the room and closed the door behind her. An impossible situation being bound to a male that didn’t want her. Only to have another wanting her, but not bound to her. She was so confused.
It was the one time she wished she had Kit’s flare for remaining distant and uncommitted, cycling through men, one right after another. No attachments, just sex. Somehow, she couldn’t envision herself pulling it off.
Despite her need to hide, Bomani deserved an explanation. She needed some space to figure everything out. Hopefully, he would understand she needed to be alone for a while with no distractions.
Inpu instructed her to find her center, her soul. Literally. It was the source of her power. If she could stay focused, she might be able to exercise some control over her demi-god abilities, even though they had not been released. Through their mental connection, the priest had guided her to the general location, but now it was up to her to pin point the source. Maybe if she could find her soul, she could squelch Bakari’s hold on her or at least force herself to stop obsessing over him. Because, chances were she would be the last thing on his mind.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
“Shall I take this away?”
“Huh?” Bomani looked up from his untouched plate. The woman gestured to the plate next to the empty seat. “Please take it to her room, if you could.”
“Certainly.” The servant bowed before scurrying off with the plate of seasoned beef, asparagus, and potatoes. He stabbed at a piece of meat and flicked a potato across his plate. Kendra had not shown for evening meals the entire week. Nebt had assured Bomani that Kendra needed some time to come to terms with the incident, as they were calling it now. Despite the goddess’ words, he could not help but feel that Kendra was avoiding him.
After everything that transpired that evening, he was ready to throttle his brother, saved only by the fact that Asar ordered him to steer clear until he got control over his anger. It had been a week and he was still pissed as hell.
Curse his brother. He had always known Bakari was up to no good all those years, but to actually hear it drop from his own mouth. Finally, justice would be done and his brother would be punished for his crimes, but no. Instead of locking Bakari in the dungeon, his father placed him in the warrior village under his supervision.
Asar had too much faith in Bomani’s sense of fairness, because he would make it his mission to ensure that his bastard brother paid his dues. In fact, this morning Bomani reviewed the duty list and ensured Bakari’s name was on the most menial and labor intensive chores. He should have had some sense of remorse, but he did not, especially after witnessing Kendra’s breakdown.
Irritated, he shoved the uneaten staples away and readied himself to head back to the village.
“Bomani.”
The hesitant and familiar voice drew his gaze up. Kendra stood at the far end of the table. Their eyes met briefly, before she looked away. He pushed the chair out and stood. The sound of wooden legs scrapping the stone filled the silence between them. She fingered the gold tassel on the chair.
“May I join you? You know, for dinner?” She asked without making eye contact.
“Of, of course. You never have to ask,” he stuttered, still shocked she was here. He pulled the chair out next to him and waited for her to sit before pushing it in. The servant nodded and hustled into the kitchen to retrieve another plate.
He sat and pulled his chair in. Uncertain of what to say, he decided to wait.
“I’m glad you hadn’t left.” She smiled weakly. “Could we talk a bit? About, um, things.” Her brown eyes stole a glance and about took his breath away. She had always been cute with her long curly locks, freckles and bubbly personality, but she radiated something less juvenile—an elegant beauty that he swore had not been there before.
Perhaps, he had become accustom to the pale skin, dark circles, and white streaks of hair that he hadn’t noticed it before. That or something had changed. “You look well rested.”
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Do I? I haven’t been sleeping much, so it must be Inpu’s lessons that are having an effect.” Pulling a strand of her auburn hair, she twirled it between her fingertips. She dropped it and put her hands in her lap. The young servant placed a fresh plate on the table. Steam and the succulent scent of grilled meat curled up into the air. “Thank you.”
Bomani nodded and the woman returned to the kitchen. He was grateful for the brief distraction. Despite being a couple feet fro
m Kendra, it felt like a chasm. Or more like his brother standing between them.
She refocused her attention to the food and picked up her fork. “I’m sorry I’ve been preoccupied this week.”
He focused on cutting his cold sirloin. “It is understandable.”
She paused a moment with her knife only half way through the meat. Sighing, she laid the utensils next to her plate. She peered up at him and chewed on the side of her lip. “I’m really sorry for how I acted.”
Bomani stared at her a moment unsure if she regretted kissing him or regretted her emotional upset. “You do not need to apologize. It had been an unfortunate night. Stressful for everyone.”
He reached out his hand with the palm up. “Are we okay?” he asked, cautiously. She paused, but then laid her palm in his. He marveled at the warmth of her touch, penetrating his palm and then ascending up his arm.
She nodded in response.
With his other hand he dared brush his fingers against her lips, remembering her hungry kiss. She closed her eyes. When she opened them, the brown pools were laced with regret. He pulled his fingers away and rested his arm against the table. He was not going to like what she was about to say.
“I need some time to get my head straight.” She paused and cleared her throat. “Can we take things slow?”
Okay, not a complete rejection. He could handle that. She slipped her hand out of his reach and turned to her plate. Although she tried to hide it, she rubbed above her left breast. The small action instantly soured his mood.
No matter how far Bakari was from Kendra, he would always be between them.
Chapter Forty
A month felt like years.
Bakari looked at his hands blackened by handling tarnished metal. He picked up the next weapon and wiped the cutting edge until it shined. The meticulous and repetitive motion demanded most of his concentration and focused it away from his obsessive thoughts of Kendra’s angry face.
Selfish bastard. Did that not sum him up in two words? He picked up the next blade and the sharpening stone and rubbed it against the metal. The friction sounded in rhythmic scores.
“Only a thousand more to go,” Sin complained ruefully. His bunkmate leaned on the table and grabbed a rolled smoke. He leaned over into the fire pit and inhaled until the tip glowed a bright red. Sin exhaling a smoky breath. “I do not know how you can stay in here for hours on end. I am about ready to jab one of those in my eye.”
Bakari paused with the stone against the blade's edge. Somehow what Sin said struck him funny. Hell, he had envisioned doing just that every day since leaving the palace. He rubbed his thumb across the razor sharp edge. The slice bled.
“Isis, do you really have to test every gods damn blade? It is sharp enough,” Sin growled and threw Bakari a towel. Instead of using the linen for the intended purpose, Bakari wiped the length of the blade.
“You are one sorry son of an odjit.” Sin drew in a deep drag off his smoke and blew it at Bakari. He threw the butt on the floor and let out a few more cuss words. “When the hell are they going to let us out of here and train us to fight? I am sick of this weapon cleaning business. We will be here for the next year, if the Commander expects us to clean every weapon. Do you know how many there are?”
“Two for every warrior in the legions, which equates to over ten thousand weapons,” Bakari answered. His father had drilled that information into him when he assumed possession of the gate key and his role as protector of the gates. With his power to kill gods, he was sanctioned to terminate anyone who threatened Aaru.
Sin leaned forward. “Now how the hell do you know that? Some repressed memory?”
Bakari met Sin’s gaze. “Yeah, something like that.” Despite Sin’s incessant chattering, the warrior never left his side, always watching his back even though Bakari never asked him to do so. For that matter, all the fledglings had slowly warmed up to him. Keeping their distance at first and then eventually congregated around him. Why, he could not fathom. He rarely contributed to the group other than cleaning weapons or performing some other low life job.
“Well, we are going to be here for a century.” Sin stowed his weapon in the wall mount and turned to Bakari. “Time for a little rest and Reina. I think that’s her name.” His bunkmate paused and stared at him a moment. “You are going tonight whether we all have to drag your ass there.”
Bakari continued to wipe the blade. Despite Bomani’s efforts to waylay him, he actually enjoyed caring for the weapons. It was an art only a master could appreciate. He had been an expert swordsman.
Had been.
There wasn’t a blade he could not handle. He grabbed the hilt and balanced it in his palm.
“Hey, did you hear me? You are not going to blow us off again. Isis, it has been thirty days since your sorry soul was drug from the waters at least come have a drink with us.”
Bakari looked up to find fifty expectant gazes. All he wanted to do was go back and crawl in his hole for another thirty days, but he knew he would never hear the end of it from his bunkmate. The warrior would find every opportunity to annoy him.
“Fine.” Bakari returned the blade to the table and stood. Sin’s mouth gaped open. He had apparently expected Bakari to decline, he had every other day.
So why today? True, he was feeling more centered and focused as of late. His blood thirst had waned from unbearable to tolerable. He had even started conversing with some of the brother warriors.
All that aside, he was missing half of himself. He rubbed his fingers over the flashlight in his pocket. The little electric device carried the significance equal to that of a spiritual charm. Anytime he was feeling particularly bad with too much self-loathing to pull himself out of bed, he would rub his fingers against it.
Sin laughed. “Excellent. I so need a release.”
No one moved, even Sin stood there waiting. Bakari realized they were deferring to him. Too tired to argue, he led the platoon out the door and into the streets of the warrior village. Large sandstone buildings lined the long dirt street. He turned to the right and headed to the only building with a red wooden door. The warrior hall.
Bakari had never entered the hall before, even prior to his kidnapping. The stench of drugs drifted in the air along the road, as did the loud voices of its patrons. He rubbed his now damp palms on his pants. Distant memories flickered at the edge of his conscious. Regretting his choice to attend this evening, he stopped ten feet from the door and eyed an escape route to the warrior billeting.
The bullish warrior at the door with dark shoulder length hair and tattoos running the length of his arms stared at him. “What’s it going to be fledgling? In or out?”
Without thinking Bakari backed into Sin. His bunkmate stepped up next to him. “You cannot avoid everyone forever— not if you want to see the owner of that lantern you hold so tightly. Hope is only good if you use it.”
Spirits of warrior ancestors danced in Sin’s gold, but very wise eyes. It reminded him of why he was here in the warrior village. Kamen had said he needed to find his honor. He could not very well do that hiding underneath his cot.
He sighed and touched the flashlight again. The ache in his chest had been reduced to a burning knot over the last several weeks. A flash of guilt made it burn a little hotter knowing she had felt his pain at its worst. At the time he could not control it, but the last couple weeks he was able to stay focused enough to minimize its effects. Did she notice he was at least trying? Not that he expected Kendra to wait for him, but he would like to see her again without the shadow of shame.
The last month he made no progress in his quest to find his honor, but rather wallowed in his pain instead. Sin was right, he needed to move forward and not stagnate any longer. Tonight was as good as any to dive into the scorpion’s den.
Bakari nodded to the sentry to open the door. A new journey waited for him on the other side and he was finally ready to take a baby step forward. Before entering he rubbed the blood from his hand
on the exterior wood of the door, as millions of warriors had done since their creation. Blood and battles were left in the streets.
Each step was agonizing as the stench of sweet smelling drugs, ale, and sex assaulted his senses. He swallowed a wave of nausea. It was all too reminiscent of his previous days.
He was grateful that the most senior of the warriors were in the back room. Bomani would be sitting there with his senior officers sharing the best wine and women. He did not want to face his brother’s condescending gaze. The oppressive crowd was enough.
He moved quickly among the tables to the darkest and least occupied corner of the hall. The weight of a thousand gazes weighed on him. They were surprised to see him in here. After he pummeled Haji and his welcome party on the first day, most of the warriors left him alone. He had been wound so tight the last month, none but Sin and a few fledglings ever approached him. Tonight was the most contact he had and it was unbearable. He needed a drink and fast.
Chapter Forty-One
With a strong tug the sheet fell away from the profile wall. Kendra grabbed three dry erase markers and tapped the caps against her palm. She stared at the cluster of symbols that represent each of the suspects and the lines drawn to represent the connections between the individuals. A red line connected Kepi to both Asar and Bakari. Blue lines connected Kepi and her father, the index patient for the curse. In a triangle with Menthu at the top, Kepi and the third unknown suspect were connected by black lines.
The second dry erase board mapped out the timeline that spanned from the present back over two thousand years, marking the event of Asar’s involvement with Kepi. She stared at Bakari’s name and hated the line running from Kepi’s symbol to his. She drew X’s on the lines to represent Kepi’s failure to overthrow Asar from within. Adding a new vertical line, she wrote in black, ‘convicted for her crimes.’ Kendra traced over the red star above the goddess’ entombment. Menthu’s plan— place a curse upon Kepi’s tomb, release her and the curse upon humankind, and bring war to the Pantheon.