Ishtar Bound (a book of Sinnis)

by Gibson, Natalie

  Ishtar Bound

  (Book 1 of the Sinnis Series)

  By Natalie Gibson

  Copyright © 2012 by Natalie Gibson

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author or publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events are a product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Printed in the United States of America

  First Printing, April 2012

  Kindle Direct Publishing

  Cover Art by Connie Gibson

  Cover Design by Eric Gibson

  ~Dedications ~

  To my Eric,

  I realize that it's not every man dream, having a romance novel dedicated to them, but this one is for you. You are the only one who knows how much work went into it and therefore you can get the most honor out of having the silly thing dedicated to you. Without your encouragement this book wouldn't be. Thank you for the hours of coffee fueled conversations about capacitors. My best ideas came from those times. Thank you for reading the first horrible draft, the first total rewrite, this final one (which I know isn't perfect but which I couldn't stand to rewrite again) and every one in between.

  Thank you for recognizing that it should read 'hem', and not 'helm', when spell check missed it and a thousand other words just like it. Thank you for taking lead with the kid all those Saturdays when I wanted to write instead of parent. I can't tell you how glad I am that I fell into your lap at that exact moment nine years ago. I love you all of it and the squeezins' too.

  To my grandma, who will never get to read this, but would have liked it. You gave me more than my name. Your free spirited independence is the basis for every heroine I think up. Your admission, “I read dirty books sometimes, sweetheart” gave me the courage to write my own.

  To you, the reader,

  Thanks for taking a chance on a first time self published paranormal romance writer. I hope you enjoy it. If you don't, please remember it's my first try. The next one is better. Way better, I promise. Even my husband agrees.

  Chapter 1

  Maeve Lovejoy ran across the courtyard toward the sanctuary, hoping her book had not made her late. Her love of reading under the old oak was always getting her into trouble. Keeping the Council of Esteemed Elders' representative waiting was not a good idea. When Margaux did leave the secret location, she had many stops to make on behalf of the council. This was not the only chapter of the sisterhood she was liaison for.

  Maeve blew into the almost empty sanctuary, dodging several statues and hurdling one displaced snake. She called out, “Alisha, Monty is back out of her cage again!” Of all the snakes here on the compound, Maeve was glad that Monty was the most frequent escapee. The python was not poisonous, but there were children living here that the reptile could squeeze the life out of just the same.

  As soon as Maeve entered the main hall of the sanctuary, she knew she was late. The Voice of the Council's bodyguard, her Guardian, was standing at the door of Nathalia's office. He was breathtakingly beautiful and undeniably unlike any man she'd ever seen.

  Maeve looked at him and wondered why she had seen him so many times, enough to recognize him when she saw him, but, once he was gone, had such a hard time remembering any details about him. She could never describe what he looked like to the other sisters, just that he was big and dazzlingly handsome.

  As always he bowed deeply to her as she approached his post at the door. Maeve gave a start when he did not avert his eyes as normal, but locked his gaze on her face. His eyes were...rainbow colored. Amazingly they were filled with multicolored facets, like a jewel cut crystal. She stood mesmerized for a moment and then recovered enough to give him a genuine grin.

  He smiled back as he straightened up. She was astonished at his true height. At 5' 3” she was dwarfed standing so close to him. He must be over 7 foot tall, she thought. She was stunned yet again when he broke protocol once more and spoke to her.

  Even though Margaux was about to do so on behalf of the council, he offered his own personal blessing. “Well wishes for tonight's ceremony.” His accent was thick, but not French like Margaux's. Maeve had never heard anything like it. His voice was an enigma; completely bizarre and yet somehow pleasant, like music made from street noise. She wondered if later she would be able to remember its unearthly quality or if that, like his image, would somehow be blurred in her memory.

  He took her hand and turned it over. She fought the urge to jerk it back away from him; his touch always gave her such a shock. He kissed her inner wrist. Her pulse jumped and she could feel the surge of power transfer. This part of their exchange was usual and she knew that the next few spells she did would be stronger somehow.

  Maeve was a Vinculum of the Primo level, a matchmaker of the highest degree. She was the bridge between the couples she put together and the women who could use the magical power made by those couples. Vinculum was a rare and valuable talent and Maeve was the most successful in known history.

  She did not know how long they stood there touching, but her senses came back to her when he released her hand. He bowed again as he spoke, “Every match you make for a sister is one chance closer we are to Her. I thank you for your sacrifices.”

  Ah, yes the prophecy. The Council was all about fulfilling the prophecy and everyone was convinced that she was the sister to do it. She knew what was coming next, though normally it came from Margaux's mouth,

  “The grandson of heaven, daughter of man,

  their marriage bring Her to forsaken Earth.

  A mate for him that is from demise ban,

  her role foretold so long before her birth“

  Maeve knew her lines well and gave him what he expected, “May the next match be the one that brings Her to this world.”

  She knocked on the door and heard him mutter under his breath as she entered Nathalia's office. “Let it be so, for it is questionable how much longer I can endure without Her.”

  ***

  Margaux, the Voice of the council, was blind. No one here knew why it happened, but Margaux had, many years ago, torn them out herself. Or at least that was the rumor. Everyone who was a representative of the council had made some terrible sacrifice. It was not required, but a sacrifice of great magnitude was always rewarded by the council with membership. It assured them of ones commitment to the cause.

  Margaux walked slowly, enjoying the warm sun on her skin as Abbess Nathalia Lovejoy led her back to the waiting car. The reflection on her dark glasses blocked out any chance of viewing the evidence of her terrible casualty.

  Nathalia thought that their meeting had been nothing out of the ordinary, with tidings from the council and a request for an assessment of this chapter. Maeve had come and received a blessing issued by Margaux on their behalf and a request for her next match. The council did not assign matches. As a Vinculum Primo, Maeve had full control, but they did make suggestions to her if one of the Family was in need. This time they thought the proper branch of the Family tree had been found and the timing was right for Her birth.

  The matchmaker had seemed unnerved or distracted to Nathalia, but it must have been something that happened to her before she came into the office, because nothing out of the ordinary happened at the meeting. Margaux too, was acting peculiar, as if she was hesitant to leave, but the culture difference made it hard for Nathalia to interpret her behavior. This walk was just her way of giving Margaux further op
portunity to unburden herself.

  Nathalia looked over her shoulder at Margaux's Guardian. He had stopped to talk to two little girls playing in the courtyard. He seemed to pick a few flowers from a patch of grass that had none just a moment ago. With his attention completely off of them, Margaux spoke hurriedly to Nathalia in a hushed tone. Nathalia wondered how the sightless Margaux knew his attention was averted.

  Margaux blurted out “Je' dream de la mort, Abbess.”

  Nathalia heard the little girls giggling behind her and she could not help but look. The Guardian was now seated cross legged on the ground, with the girls seated on his knees. It looked like he was braiding their hair; both of them at the same time.

  “J'ai noté le prophesy.” Margaux held out a rolled up scrap of paper. Its wear was evidence that she had carried it around for some time deciding to give it to not. “I believe que ma vision was of your...death. Je l'ai vu. I am sorry, Nathalia.”

  Nathalia was shocked. She had been told when she accepted her position as Abbess that she would be called upon and a great sacrifice would required, but she did not think it would be this. “Is there something we can do? Can I stop this from happening?”

  “The path not traveled does not exist. Choice is illusion.”

  Nathalia couldn't believe the time had come already. She wasn't ready to die; she wouldn't die. There had to be another way.

  “I thought you would appreciate knowing. I wanted to give you time to prepare. Was I wrong to warn you?”

  “No, you were right to tell me.” She glanced back at the Guardian and the girls. They were making him a wreath from the flowers they had picked. “Do you know how long I have before...?”

  Margaux shook her head, “Not long”. Normally her visions were for the far future, but with Nathalia, they were different. They were more immediate, like her future was somehow blocked until the events that lead to its specifics were already set into motion.

  She reached out and hugged the stunned Abbess. Margaux too had faced a terribly hard challenge long ago, but the forfeit it required of her was not her life, but her eyes. She had given them willingly, but was not sure she could have donated her very life, as the Abbess would be called to do. “I thank you; your sisters will thank you.”

  Instantly the Guardian was at Margaux's elbow. Without a word he led her away and helped her into the car. She rolled down the window and gave Nathalia one last bit of information. “It will involve the one you love most of this world. Je ne sais pas, but we will be in danger of losing her.”

  The car drove away down the long driveway, leaving Nathalia standing alone with only the promise of her own demise facing her. Hers or the one she loved most. That could only be one person - Maeve.

  ***

  “Go ahead, girls, tell the Abbess what he said about your braids.”

  Nathalia had been pacing in her study when Peregrinus Primo Alisha Lovejoy brought in her two wards to see the Abbess. One was Alisha's biological daughter, the other was not. Nathalia could never remember which one was which.

  Gwyneth was braver than Lillian and was first to speak. “He said they had magic in 'em and would make us run super fast.”

  Not to be outdone or overshadowed, Lillian piped up, “And they work too! We just beat Billy in a race and he's all growed up.”

  The two 7 year olds stood there in front of the Abbess looking very proud and very confident. Not every sister could do that in this office. Nathalia smiled. These two were destined for greatness. “Well, we better take a look at these magic braids.”

  Nathalia opened the drawer of her desk and pulled out a small digital camera. The young ones turned so that she could get a good view of each of their hair. Nathalia snapped a shot and then got down on her knees and really looked at the elaborate knotted braids. She had never seen anything like these. Surely a man of so few words would not have told the girls a lie; what would be the point? She was sure she had never heard him speak before. Curious, what else had he told the girls? “Did the Guardian say anything else to you? Did he tell you his name?”

  Gwyneth opened her mouth, “Aaa...” Both girls immediately went still and pursed their lips together; their brows furrowed in concentration. They looked at each other and started laughing.

  “The Abbess asked you a question and it's not polite to keep secrets from her.” Alisha chastised them gently.

  Both girls jumped to defend their actions, or lack thereof, and in unison said, “We can't REMEMBER!” and started giggling again.

  Gwyneth must have been Alisha's, because she pinched her daughter's neck and looked a little ashamed by their behavior with her Sister Superior. Lilith, to keep from receiving the same discipline, said, “He TOLD us we would forget his name if anybody asked us what it was. And that's what happened!”

  Nathalia thanked the girls for sharing with her and dismissed them all to get back to playing. A council Guardian who understood the magic in the binding of hair? It was one of the better known of the Mes given to Inanna in the Giving of the Sacred Mes poem. He gave me the loosening of hair. He gave me the binding of hair. She had never really given much thought to that particular line. The ancient Egyptians had thought there was magic in knots; Sumerians too. The symbol for Isis was a knot of sorts. Maybe the sisters should re-evaluate the use of braids.

  Nathalia sat down at her computer and plugged the camera in to download the braid images. She wasn't going to die; Margaux must be mistaken. There was simply too much to do, too many mysteries yet to solve, to die right now.

  ***

  Maeve's small living quarters were a bustle of girly activity. Nathalia had wanted to talk to them before they all went out and had instructed them to meet her in Maeve's room. They, of course, had followed those instructions, leaving Maeve no time to mentally prepare and no space to physically get ready.

  All four girls were clustered around Maeve's antique vanity and mirror, scrabbling for a good view to do the last touches of makeup. Maeve gave up and took a step back giving the other three a larger portion of reflective surface. She never wore that much make up anyway. A little eye liner and mascara did her just fine. All that foundation and powder was just going to sweat off anyway.

  Maeve thought the group looked like a Hollywood executive had put them together; they were the recipe for girl band success. They had a sprinkle of baby seasoning, a dash of sporty spice, a pinch of wild flavor and a zest of sexy. Sara was the youngest. The pink clad girly-girl was the only Sophomore of the group. Her blond hair was up and her heels were tall and expensive.

  Elle was hard. Her asymmetrical yellow hair should have made her look butch but it didn't. Her short tank showed off her best feature. Her six pack abs and v shaped pelvic muscles were set off by her camo cargo shorts. The elbow length opera gloves were an oddity in the outfit. Elle, the group's Iudex Primo, could read thoughts with a touch of her hand. When they went out, she protected herself from the barrage of messy thoughts by covering them. Her skill was also the reason for her ripped appearance. Working out was something she could do alone. No one touched her in the gym.

  Jolie looked wild. She used the school girl outfit as juxtaposition. To Maeve, Jolie's appearance had always seemed at odds with her shy nature. Why would a timid girl cover her body in tattoos and call so much attention to herself with hot pink hair? She was their Animaverto Primo, capable of seeing the future. Right now it was restricted to her dreams, but she was learning to control her ability while awake.

  Maeve shed her dressing gown and was bare to the waist for a moment before grabbing up her corset and beginning the process of hooking up the front. She finished the last hook just as Nathalia came in. The Abbess took her place behind Maeve and began to tighten the laces one loop at a time. She spoke to Jolie as she cinched. “I don't even need to ask how it went last night.”

  Jolie had been so worried about making love to a woman yesterday, but today it seemed silly. Maeve was her friend and their night together had been satisfying and re
warding. Jolie was matched; she had 'seen' him in a dream. There were a few hours last night locked away in Maeve's room when Jolie had even hoped that her new mate would be a woman. “No, you don't. Maeve's amazing.” Jolie could not keep the blush off her face when she thought of what she had done with her short curvy friend. Maeve adjusted, twisted and turned, stuffed down and plumped up, until everything was placed just right within that boned boundary. Only then did she look up and notice everyone looking at her.

  “Why do you always wear a corset when we go out, Maeve? It can't be comfortable for dancing.” Sara questioned.

  “It wasn't comfortable at first, but I got used to it. Now I don't feel right without it.” Maeve started as she seated herself on the chair Nathalia had drug over from the vanity. Nathalia sat behind her in the armchair in the corner, big square brush at the ready in her lap. “There are a lot of reasons I wear my corset. First, this one was a gift to me from someone I love, and it reminds me of her support and acceptance.”

  Nathalia's voice rang like music in her head, so light and pleasant. You're welcome, Maeve. Love you, too. A warmth washed over her as Nathalia continued her work on Maeve's long auburn tresses. The Abbess was a Vinco, a telepath capable of putting her own thoughts and feelings into another's mind. Feelings were easier than words and everything was easier the better she knew the mind she was overcoming. It was hard for Nathalia to keep her thoughts and feelings from Maeve.

  “Second,” and Maeve focused this point toward Sara specifically, as the other matchmaker going out tonight, “I find it a good physical reminder of the restrictions my position has placed on me. As Vinculum we have more freedoms than other sisters, but we have more limits as well. I go out without escorts when I want. I sleep with and matchmake for whomever I want. BUT our vows are different than other sisters, Sara. This restrictive corset encases my heart and reminds me that my body, and my very life, is a tool, a source of power for all the sisterhood. We have a great power, rare in this world, and so we matchmakers have a heavy responsibility to keep our heart protected and unbound to any one person.”