by Lisa Kessler
She plucked a Trader Joe’s grocery tote from under the sink and grabbed a pair of latex gloves. If she never had to touch that codex again, it would be too soon. After wrapping the book in a clean dishtowel, she slid it into the bag.
Stepping into her flip-flop sandals, she tossed the tote over her shoulder. The sooner she found out what the weird tattoo guy was after, the better.
…
Issa quietly exited the plane, walking up the ramp and into the Lindbergh Field terminal. The evening air in San Diego felt dry compared to the rainforest of the Yucatan. The cool ocean breeze lifted his dark hair from his collar. Zafrina must’ve anticipated his primitive state, because when he reached the airport in Cancun, a crew member from the private jet company met him with a new ensemble of dark slacks and a light gray, button-down dress shirt.
The fabric was soft against his skin, masking the animal inside as if he could be tamed through civilized clothing.
He scanned the airport until he noticed Zafrina lingering near an exit door. If she had been wearing sunglasses, he wouldn’t have recognized her. Her light brown, almost orange eyes were impossible to forget.
She straightened when their eyes met. Issa made his way toward her through the sea of mortals hovering around the baggage claim.
“Welcome to San Diego.” Zafrina glanced down at his empty hands. “No bags?”
“No.” Did she expect he would bring tailored suits? “You insisted I get on the plane. I did. Tell me what is going on.”
Zafrina turned, walking toward an escalator. “You stand still and the steps move…”
“I know what an escalator is.” His temper was short, but she should be grateful he came to San Diego at all. He made no apologies for his behavior.
The rest of the walk to the car remained silent. A driver stepped up and opened the back door for them. Zafrina climbed in, and he followed her into the cavernous black sedan. With a push of a button, a glass divider slid up between their seat and the driver.
“Gretchen weakens every day.” Zafrina stared at her hands.
Issa wasn’t sure what she expected him to do with that information. “You told me the mortal woman needed protection, not a doctor.”
“Her name is—”
“Her name is of little importance.” Issa crossed his arms. If he didn’t loathe flying so much, he’d turn around and go back to the jungle right now.
Zafrina hissed, flipping her long black hair over her shoulder. “I am aware you do not want to be here. Do you need to make this more difficult?”
“I only want to know why it was so important that I come. Who is threatening the child?”
“I have not seen him.” Her gaze narrowed before he could reply. “But he is not one of us.”
“How can you be certain if you have never seen him?” Anger burned in his gut. “Do you have any idea how much I loathe flying? I never should have come here.”
“You know I can sense the blood lust in our kind. It is not blood this one yearns for.” She snatched his wrist, gripping it so tightly that pain ran up his arm. “By the time we see him, it may be too late.”
…
Muriah marched up the steps and rang the bell of the large, hacienda-style beach house, fighting the urge to tug down on the legs of her battered cut-off shorts. Now that the sun had set, the sea breeze carried a chill. In her rush for answers, she’d forgotten to grab a sweatshirt. Too late now.
A woman opened the door. Her blond, ponytailed hair matched the buoyancy of the smile on her face. “Can I help you?”
“I’m here to see Gretchen.”
Another voice called from inside. “Who is it, Edie?”
“Someone is looking for Gretchen.” She pressed her lips together and lowered her voice. “I think Lori’s coming to help you.”
A fiery redhead took over possession of the door. “Hi, I’m Lori, the co-director of Foundation Arts. Who were you looking for?”
Muriah tugged the strap of her bag farther up her shoulder. “I’m here to see Gretchen.”
Lori shook her head. “You must have the wrong address.”
She retrieved the folded paper from her pocket and checked it against the number on the house. “Nope. This is the address she gave me when I called.” The redhead still didn’t budge. Muriah groaned. “Look, I just talked to her on the phone. Do you want to check the log on my cell phone?”
“It’s okay, Lori.” Behind her, a familiar face approached. “I invited Muriah over. I should have told you.” Gretchen smiled. “Sorry about that.”
The foundation co-director—aka pit bull—moved aside, and Muriah stepped into the foyer, grateful to be out of the chilly wind as the sun set over the ocean. “What’s with all the security?”
“Edie and Lori work for Calisto’s foundation now. Lori’s just doing her job.”
The other two women disappeared down the hall into an office. “If she’s in charge of security, she rocks.” Muriah followed Gretchen into the large living room. A huge grand piano sat in the corner of the whitewashed room. The vaulted ceiling made for keen acoustics. The snap of Muriah’s flip-flop sandals echoed across the tile floor.
Gretchen sat on a sofa and gestured for Muriah to join her. “It’s good to see you again. What can I help you with?”
Muriah sat down and opened her bag, carefully lifting the ancient contents and placing it on the glass coffee table. “I think Lukas told you I locate out-of-print books and historical manuscripts for some of my customers, right?”
The corner of Gretchen’s mouth twitched like she might smile. “That’s not exactly how he put it, but I know you find…things.”
Something about her seemed…different. Muriah had only met her once before, but Gretchen’s face seemed more pale, thinner than Muriah remembered, worry lines marking the corners of her eyes.
Muriah pushed the thoughts away. She didn’t know Gretchen well enough to ask. Instead, she reached over to unwrap the codex. Before she could pull the towel back, Lukas stepped through the door. Gretchen was off the sofa and in his arms, leaving Muriah to stand up and feel even more uncomfortable.
Lukas held Gretchen, his eyes closed, nose buried in her hair. Almost like he was relieved to see her. He pulled back and finally noticed Muriah. His smile faltered, and he came over to the sofa. “Is everything all right?”
“Yeah,” Muriah nodded. “I brought something over to see if Gretchen could translate it for me.”
He glanced at the package on the table. “No sign of the guy with the tattoos?”
“Not yet.”
The front door opened again, prompting Muriah to scoop up the dishtowel-wrapped codex and put it back in her bag. It was one thing to show it to Gretchen for a translation, another to let strangers see the priceless artifact currently hiding inside her kitchen towel.
Lukas turned at the sound. “Zafrina, where have you—” He was in front of Gretchen before Muriah realized he was moving. “Issa. You’re back.”
Muriah hooked her bag over her shoulder. She shouldn’t have come here. It was like she stumbled into some sort of Night Walker homecoming party.
She turned to excuse herself when she noticed the tall, broad-shouldered man filling the doorway. His gaze slid over her face, and her breath caught in her throat. Her earlier vision flashed through her mind. She recognized the hard angle of his jaw, the noble brow, the pain lurking in the depths of his dark eyes. The image of him screaming up into the rain, his hand drenched in blood, filled her thoughts.
He wasn’t a long dead memory from the codex. He was still alive, a Night Walker. Immortal.
Struggling to hold herself together, Muriah fought to steady her breathing and smooth her expression. Hopefully, she hadn’t tipped her hand that she recognized him.
“I didn’t realize you were expecting guests.” Muriah made her way past Lukas and Gretchen, keeping her gaze on her feet, every step closer to the door. “I’ll just come back some other time.”
“You’re
not interrupting anything.” Gretchen took a step toward her. “You don’t have to go.” She glanced at the late arrivals. “Zafrina and Issa can read your glyphs better than I could anyway.”
“Is this Lukas’s friend who had the visitor?” The other woman spoke, drawing Muriah’s gaze to her smooth caramel skin and bright, almost orange, eyes.
“Yes.” Lukas nodded slowly. “Muriah, this is Zafrina and Issa. They’re Night Walkers, too.”
His obvious caution around these two left Muriah jumpy and on edge. She kept her hands on her bag. If they could read the long dead Mayan language, there was a good chance they were much older than Lukas, and judging by his actions, he didn’t trust them.
So neither did she.
Muriah glanced their way. “Nice to meet you.”
Zafrina and Issa came inside, closing the door behind them. The woman with the copper eyes nodded toward Muriah. “I have been looking forward to meeting you.” She briefly met Lukas’s gaze before focusing her attention on Muriah again. “There is a prophecy we need to find. Lukas tells me you are the best in this world at locating artifacts.”
Muriah shook her head. “It’s not that I don’t want to help you, but my hands are full right now. I can email you some recommendations of a couple others who can probably help.”
The tall, dark, and tortured Night Walker from her vision stepped forward. “Show me what you brought.” The deep timbre of his voice demanded obedience, and at the same time, made her pulse race. “I will translate for you, and then you will find the codex we require.”
Muriah crossed her arms, her hip jutting to the side while she denied her heart’s reaction to the sound of his voice. It was the words he spoke that chafed her.
If he thought he could order her around, he’d better think again.
Chapter Five
Issa met her eyes, his gaze demanding her compliance. Mesmerizing humans came naturally to him. In fact, as the centuries blended into millennia, his power grew until he found himself unintentionally causing mortals to obey his mental suggestions. When he lived in Egypt, he often wore large hats and dark sunglasses to keep people from seeing his eyes.
Her expression when he entered the room gnawed at him. He’d never seen her before, but recognition had flared across her features. Recognition and fear.
He waited for her to comply with his wishes and open her bag. A crease marred his brow when she broke eye contact and clutched her bag even tighter.
“I don’t take orders from anyone.” She started for the door. “Thanks, but no thanks.”
Issa clenched his jaw to keep it from dropping and reached out to her mind. He found nothingness. Not even a thought repeated to act as a shield, her mind was simply a void, a blank canvas.
“Who are you?” He pondered aloud.
The woman frowned and met his eyes again. “I’m Lukas’s friend, remember?”
His gaze cut over her head to Lukas standing in front of his pregnant lover. “What is she?”
“I’m French-Irish, as if it’s any of your business.” The woman huffed, drawing his attention again. “I don’t care how old you are, that’s no excuse for being rude. Now, if you’ll move aside, I’ll get out of your way.”
She attempted to sidestep around him, but he countered her, blocking her access to the door. “I cannot let you leave. We need your assistance.”
Her fiery gaze met his and caused a flare of unfamiliar heat to course through his veins. When was the last time a mortal had dared to stand up to his will?
“Holding me prisoner is not how you convince me to help you.” She turned toward Lukas, and Issa caught himself wanting her attention again. Such an interesting creature. “Lukas, what is he talking about? What do you need me to find?”
Lukas met Issa’s eyes, his voice whispering directly into Issa’s mind, I’ve known Muriah her whole life. Let me handle this. She’ll help us.
Can you read her thoughts? I cannot reach her.
Lukas moved closer to Muriah. I don’t know.
Issa narrowed his eyes. I thought you have known her all her life.
I have. Lukas met Issa’s stare, defiance smoldering in his green eyes. And I respect her too much to try to invade her thoughts.
Issa rolled his eyes. He’d met Lukas when they faced down the Night Demon in the Yucatan. While the Russian archeologist showed great courage, Issa would never understand the young one’s eagerness to blend into humanity, his disdain for his Night Walker blood.
Crossing his arms, Issa watched Lukas’s every move. The fabric of the long-sleeved shirt tightened around his biceps, his muscles tight, ready to spring into action. He almost hoped the woman might run. Any excuse to leave this house.
Lukas turned to Muriah. “There’s a Mayan codex that includes the story of an immortal birth.”
The woman held her bag tighter. “Like Jesus?”
Lukas shook his head, the corner of his mouth curved. “Not exactly. I don’t think it says anything about a virgin giving birth.”
She stepped back, almost bumping into Issa’s chest. He caught the scent of her hair and tried not to notice the way it tempted him to reach out and touch her.
“Wait just a sec.” She walked past Lukas to Gretchen. “That’s why you’re pale, isn’t it? You’re pregnant. It’s impossible, but…you are.”
Gretchen nodded, starting to smile. “It’s a long story.”
Issa moved in. “The less you know the better. Zafrina told me someone approached you.”
She took a step away from him. Smart woman to keep a fearful distance.
“Yes. He had a tattoo that slithered around his neck. He was asking about a relic I found for a man.” She cleared her throat. “A friend.” She paused for a moment, and Issa caught himself wishing she hadn’t mentioned a man in her life. “I’m pretty sure he’s the one who murdered Richard. He was trying to get the codex. I hadn’t gotten a chance to tell Richard I found it.”
A slithering tattoo. “That is the only reason you are still alive.” Issa ground his teeth together. “Show me the codex. I will read it for you.”
Her eyes narrowed. “How do I know you’re any better than the snake tattoo man is?”
Lukas intervened. “Issa might be the only one who can protect you from this guy.”
Muriah’s gaze moved over to Issa, and defiance burned in her eyes, challenging him until she finally groaned. “Fine.”
She went back to the sofa and opened the bag.
Issa sat beside her, doing his best to be patient. He didn’t want to be here when Kate, the lady of this house, returned home.
“Go ahead and take a look.” Muriah rested back against the sofa, and he carefully lifted the towel. His mouth went dry. Sensing his reaction, she leaned in, too close to him, her scent intoxicating his heightened senses. “What’s it say?”
He quickly draped the towel over the codex and slid it back into her bag. “We need to get you and this codex far away from Gretchen and the child.”
“Whoa.” Muriah shot up from the sofa with her hands in front of her as if she had the physical strength to hold him back. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“You found the prophecy.” Zafrina came between them, her gaze locked on his. “You must let me read it. We need to know if the child is already immortal in the womb.”
Issa made no move to open the bag. “I know this being with the living snake tattoos, and if he wants this relic, then he is searching for the same answer you hunger for. He will find a way into your mind and steal it.”
“I am an ancient.” Zafrina lifted her chin. “My thoughts are my own.”
Issa shook his head. “The creature with the living tattoos is older than any of us. He existed before the world of man that we protect. He is the God of Chaos, trapped here by the other Egyptian gods who tired of his appetite. Apep feeds off discord and chaos.”
“Apep?” Muriah shook her head. “Impossible. No way. He’s real?” She raked her fingers back thr
ough her hair and looked up at him. “We’re screwed. You can’t kill a god. He’s not even human. Not really, right?”
“You know of him?” Issa couldn’t hide his surprise. He’d underestimated the mortal woman.
“I’ve heard of him. He was depicted on an Egyptian water pitcher I located for someone. Chaos incarnate, spat out by the Egyptian gods. I thought it was a myth. He couldn’t be real.”
Deep inside, Issa’s exhausted, battered spirit begged him to allow Apep to come. Finish this. End his suffering. “Truth is laced into every myth.”
“Well, this truth sucks.” Muriah crossed her arms.
“If what you say is true, and he desires the codex and the child…” Zafrina paused and met his eyes. “Issa, you must take this girl and the relic far from Gretchen. Apep cannot be allowed near this child. The future of our race is at risk.”
Gretchen’s hands slid over her abdomen.
Issa sighed. “Perhaps that is his plan.” Everyone in the room was looking to him for answers, for hope. They would be very disappointed. Hope had left him far behind. “He must know the fate of our race is tied to the child. If he stole the infant and threatened to slay it, we would be forced to bow to his control. Without the God of the North’s heir, our existence has no balance.” He met Zafrina’s gaze. “Maybe it would be better if the child perished, taking all of us with it.”
“No way.” Gretchen pushed in front of Lukas. “No. You can’t give up. Not after all we’ve been through. Besides without the Becabs, the gods of the north, south, east, and west, to hold up the mortal world, wouldn’t humanity be the next to fall? You’re supposed to be the protectors of the mortal world, remember?”
“The mortal world has forgotten us.” Issa growled through clenched teeth. “If Apep is bent on destroying the Night Walkers, or controlling us to do his bidding, this world is doomed anyway. This is not a being I can sacrifice or imprison within the earth.”
“Maybe not,” Muriah clutched the bag to her chest. “But we might be able to trap him some other way.”
…
All eyes turned her way, but it was Issa’s dark, intense, gaze that held her attention. “If there is truth woven into every myth, then we should be able to trap Apep. I don’t know the exact directions, but I know they exist. The stories say he was imprisoned in a clay vessel by the Egyptian priests once before. We just need to find the instructions. There has to be a way.”