Immortal Protector

by Ursula Bauer

  He moved away from the window and crossed his muscular arms. “You’re going to die, Meg.”

  Her breath left her in a rush, and her chest tightened making it hard to draw in another one. “How? Why?”

  “You absorbed more magic than your mortal form can hold. If Jack can’t remove it, you’re dead. Even if he can, you stand a chance of dying.”

  “Okay.” She struggled to absorb the facts he so casually and coldly tossed out at her. She knew he was framing things this way on purpose, to drive her away, to keep her at arm’s length. She forced herself to count to ten before responding. “So I have a fighting chance.”

  “We need to get the artifact. You need to stay with me, though. Something about my immortality is keeping you alive.”

  More good news. “Did you know this last night?”

  He gave a curt nod. “I could have told you, but I wanted to fuck you and I figured it would kill the mood.”

  “Like I said yesterday, you’re really not a morning person, are you, Gid?” She laughed at his shocked look. “What? Did you think I’m an idiot? I’m on to you. Someone put a hurting on you, so now you want to keep everyone else away. That includes me. Only I’m under your skin, and last night proves you can’t keep me away. What happened? Who hurt you so bad that you’d cut yourself to keep someone else from making you bleed?”

  He drew back as if slapped. Something slipped inside of him, turning his eyes to a cold, harsh, inhuman black. Meg pulled the covers tighter like a shield, sensing her words had broken something in him.

  “I told you before, it’s not who hurt me, Dr. Carter, it’s who I hurt.” He laughed harshly, a sound that sent a shiver up her spine. “I lied when I told you I lived before William’s time. I came after. I was one of the thugs called a knight that subdued the land. I got a local bride in the bargain. She was a whey-faced Saxon with a tight little body. I had two kids on her before she knew what hit her.”

  His voice dripped with self-loathing. Meg was horrified by the way he spoke. She knew he was trying to hurt her, to scare her, but his words made her heart ache for him. “So you were a man of your times. That’s nothing unusual.”

  “Oh, I was a man of my time all right. I loved to fight. Couldn’t turn down a chance to increase my holdings, so when an ally needed a hand in beating down a pillaging neighbor, I packed up my men-at-arms and went. Alys warned me off going. Said she had some premonition of doom.” He balled his hands into fists and shoved them into his pockets. “Superstitious, she was. I couldn’t stay, but in deference to her, I left one of my finest soldiers to keep an eye on her. That fine man raped and killed her and my two sons, with the help of his cousin and a band of bloodthirsty mercenaries. While my house was laid low, I was fucking a whore, too drunk to even know where I was.”

  Her dream. Except it wasn’t a dream. It was his past. Meg felt her heart break. “You couldn’t have known.”

  “Yeah, well here’s the punch line, Doc. I didn’t really love Alys. She was a possession, just like my house, or my cattle. But when she was gone it was like a part of me was torn from my body.” He stalked the room, pacing like a caged tiger. “I took to the road, spilling blood for those too weak to spill it themselves. I paid vengeance trying to work penance. I turned my back on my God, and when I died several years later near Cairo, the Egyptians came for me when my soul sat unclaimed.”

  Meg got out of the bed and went to him. She wanted to heal him, to take away the raw pain, to banish the wound that had festered inside of him for countless years. “That’s in the past, Gideon. Let me help you.”

  “You can’t.” His voice was raw, his face ravaged with pain. He drew back from her like she was cursed. “These Egyptians assess the dead in a death ceremony. They weigh your heart. Mine came up short. I couldn’t love, so I was flawed. It worked for them, that’s why I got my job with Bast. But my heart, it’s still the same. It’s wanting, Meg. It can’t love. I can’t love. And you deserve far better than that. You may not realize it, but I do, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let your life get ruined the way I did to Alys all those years ago.”

  “That’s impossible.” But even as she said the words a part of her knew it was true. If he said he couldn’t love because part of him was broken, in this crazy rabbit hole world of magic, mad Gods, and mages, then that was very likely true.

  “It is possible.” He moved towards the door, his shoulders slumped, his face ashen. Shame clouded his eyes. “Get dressed and packed. I’ll meet you back at the main house.”

  Meg’s mind raced and her heart burned. He couldn’t love. His heart was wanting. He was beyond imperfect, beyond her reach. But she wanted him, and no other. And she believed in him, even if he didn’t believe in himself. In that terrible moment, she knew a truth that defied logic and touched her to her very soul. Not only did she want him, but she was falling for him. The how or why didn’t matter, the fact couldn’t be denied.

  He opened the door and started to cross the threshold, stepping into a shaft of dawning light. If she let him go now, he’d be lost to her forever. A moment of calm fell over her and clarity settled in.

  She straightened her spine and stood tall in the face of his fear and doubt. “I don’t care that your heart is wanting, or that you can’t love. I’ve got heart enough for both of us.”

  He paused. “I wasn’t sent to save you, Doc. I was sent to kill you.”

  The cold storm in his words blew around her. She’d thought that was the case when she grilled him in the car and he admitted the Gods were after her. His admission chilled her, but didn’t deter her. “Maybe so, Gideon. But you didn’t kill me. You saved me, and have protected me ever since. A lot has happened since that night. I told you. Heart enough for both of us.”

  His jaw worked as if he was going to speak, then he shook his head, and left, closing the door in his wake. She’d reached him with her words. She knew she had with absolute certainty. In that moment, she’d bridged his abyss with hope. Now she breathed a prayer she’d live long enough to see the results.

  Chapter Eleven

  Gideon headed for the main house. Meg’s scent was everywhere on him, the feel of her burned into him like a brand. He couldn’t escape and worse, he didn’t want to. He’d tried his best to push her back, to put things to right, but what passed between them had altered them both irrevocably.

  I have heart enough for both of us. Her words touched him to his rotted core, settling in amongst the skeletons and charred bits of memories, growing green in a patch of earth he thought forever burned. He almost believed she could heal him, but he’d gamed for too long, knew himself and his situation too well. There was no use even trying. Best to focus on what he could control, and tuck last night’s experiences into a safe, and secret, place.

  He felt the familiar ache in his chest, a constant reminder of his deficiency. It didn’t matter that he could love her all night, or drown her in wave after wave of erotic pleasure. He couldn’t give to her the thing he most wanted to give.

  He grabbed his gear and met Jack in the hall on the way to the master living room. “How’d you do with your contact?”

  “The jar was never returned to the shipping warehouse. Only an empty box arrived. No way to trace who along the line removed the jar, or if it was ever in the box in the first place. Probably a standard arrangement. The company is a front for dealing in stolen antiquities.”

  Gideon swore. If the artifact wasn’t there, it would be hell to find. And every hour that ticked by brought Meg closer to death. “Tell me there’s an upside to this.”

  “I looked into some of Meg’s coworkers last night, specifically Dr. Liebers. I suspect he never sent it back.”

  Meg waited placidly, perched on the edge of a leather chaise inside the large living room. He grabbed Jack by the shoulder and pulled him back into an alcove before he could be seen.

  “What did you do?” With Jack, it could be all manner of things that might come back to bite them both in the
ass. No one took risks like Mad Jack. It was an asset and a liability.

  “A little detective work. I called Matt and had him check on Liebers. Very interesting financials. He was in debt up to his eyeballs until the appearance, and disappearance of the artifact. He’s your lynch pin, not the mage.”

  Gideon processed the information. “He’s the front man for someone.” The news was good. It meant he was finally one step ahead of the mage. Providing the mage had no idea of Liebers’ involvement. “Has anything hit the black market yet?”

  “Not according to my sources.”

  Even better news. If he got the artifact from Liebers, he could fix Meg, stash her with Jack, and move on to lure the mage and any conspirators in the Council out into the open. The pieces were falling into place. He had to believe Meg would survive, that she was the good part of the fifty-fifty odds. Jack was the son of a God, and even with most of his powers bound, he was still a considerable magical player. Gideon believed he’d get the job done right. “Can you get me back to Troy via a passage?”

  “I’ve got the route mapped and a guide standing by. You’ll be there by nightfall. Havers packed you food to go. Hope you don’t mind breakfast burritos and chicken salad.”

  “Thanks, Jack.”

  “Don’t thank me yet. You’re still in the thick of it.” Jack glanced over his shoulder to make sure Meg hadn’t moved, and then stepped closer to Gideon. “I ran preliminary tests on her blood. She’s a sun about to go nova. If she blows, get clear, or she’ll take you with her.”

  He fisted his hands. “Can’t do that.”

  “Figured as much, but I had to give you fair warning.”

  “Any luck with the mage mark?”

  Jack frowned. “Nothing’s turned up yet. Whoever this guy is, he’s dangerous and skilled. That means he may know how to kill your kind, so watch your back.”

  Gideon nodded tightly, and they joined Meg.

  She smiled at them both, and Gideon felt the bottom drop out of his gut. The urge to take her to him and kiss her was near unbearable. The memories of last night ran through his brain, and his dick stirred hopefully.

  “Liebers still has the artifact,” he ground out.

  Meg’s smile faltered. “That means…”

  “We go back to Troy, shake him down and see what we find.”

  “He’s in Syracuse. He won’t be back for two days.”

  Fuck. More delays. “Fine. We’ll toss his house. Then we’ll go get him if we don’t find what we need.”

  “Stan’s involved? This is crazy.”

  “Magic usually is,” Jack said smoothly. “Which reminds me. I whipped this up for you in the lab last night. Keep it on at all times. It will help you manage the worst of your symptoms.”

  He handed her an oval rose quartz pendant suspended on a close-fitting, thick silver band. Meg put it on and it rested like a metallic snake close against her skin. Gideon's hands and body remembered well the silken feel of that creamy skin, the way it heated and flushed like fresh blooming roses when she came. He shut his eyes for a moment and rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying unsuccessfully to shut out the erotic pictures flashing through his brain.

  “Thanks,” she said. “Does it come with instructions?”

  “Keep it on, don’t take it off. If you feel a headache or vertigo coming, focus your attention on the feel of the stone and silver on your body, and it will draw down the energy.”

  Gideon stepped forward and grabbed her overnight bag. “We’re leaving now, Meg. Jack’s sending us back through another passage.”

  She cast him a sidelong look, her eyes mischievous. “Good. That will give us plenty of time to talk.”

  ———

  Venice, Italy

  Salazar woke in his bedroom. His favorite blazer hung carelessly off the doorknob to his walk-in closet. He still wore his clothes. Memories flooded into his brain and he jumped from the bed, looking for a fight. He felt none of the aftereffects of the vampiric acid, but he knew that would be short lived. The headache would soon set in, followed by the blinding pain.

  A figure emerged from the dark shadows gathered in the farthest corner of the room. “Good afternoon, Ramon. I trust you slept well? It’s been almost two days.”

  Two days? “Seth? What the hell are you playing at now?”

  “Is that anyway to address the God who saved your ass?” The red-headed Egyptian emerged into the light. “Your house is dirty, Salazar. The mystics are compromised. I’m giving you a broom. It’s only fitting an elder Warden does the cleaning.”

  Salazar fought for control as the creature he was in the past begged for release, as rage welled up inside like a caged, rabid tiger. He couldn’t fathom the God’s motives. Such an overt strike against the Wardens was against every rule in the quite extensive book. “You don’t know what you’re playing with.”

  “Nor do you, or any of your mystics. That’s why I followed you, and why I’m giving you a helping hand to do the right thing. I don’t want to take the fall because I’m the most likely candidate to want the war to re-open. That means you need to figure this out, and fast.” Seth put his hands on his lean hips and stared at Salazar with merciless black eyes. “Ian hasn’t given anything of use, yet, nor has that creature Skathi. However, I let it leak at last night’s Tribunal hearing what you’d caught on your hunt, and since then your head mystic has acted very strangely. If I didn’t know better, Ramon, I’d say Elsa isn’t drinking the Council Kool-Aid anymore.”

  Seth’s words swirled round in his brain, knocking against it like loose, grinding rocks. The Egyptian God of Chaos was notorious for twisting truth to the very limit and luring the unwary to dooms of their own making. Could he be right about Elsa, the lead mystic in Venice? More, why would he care? A more sinister thought took shape then. Seth must have had his own mystics check the vision, and they came up with something different. The Egyptian would relish a war unless he was on the losing side.

  Salazar tucked the notion away for further exploration, or exploitation, and refocused on the dire matter at hand. “You’re torturing them?”

  “No. They’re being interrogated, by your man, per your instructions. I have complete deniability.”

  Ramon’s anger chilled to fear. “Ian’s an innocent. You can’t do this to him. You’ll destroy him.”

  “No one is innocent in this game. Besides, you were planning to kill the Scot in Monte Carlo.”

  “Death is better than torture.”

  “Don’t be a savage. It’s not the old days. This kind of thing is far more sanitized now.”

  Salazar felt acid settle in the pit of his stomach as he realized how and who had tipped off Seth. There was only one being who could have alerted the God of Chaos. The one he called for a favor back at the Amici. His darker side rallied at this thought. He’d asked for help, here it was, albeit in an odious package. Seth was right, he’d planned to kill Ian. Too sentimental given the dire circumstances. Salazar rubbed his face and used the moment to set aside the last of his outrage and grief over what had transpired, and what was to come. “Who called the Tribunal hearing? You?”

  “Horus.”

  That was unexpected. Perhaps Seth pushed Horus into calling for a hearing. Seth was a master at manipulating the younger God. “What was the result?”

  “Gideon Sinclair was deemed rogue and a hunter dispatched to take him out of play.”

  “Who did the Tribunal send?”

  “Lucas Preacher.”

  Good. Preacher was methodical and deadly, but not inclined to act with undue haste. A tactical decision that indicated Bast and some of the other Tribunal members believed in Gideon. They satisfied their overt mandates and continued playing covert games, just like those they policed. He got to his feet.

  Seth cleared his throat, and leaned in close. Ramon smelled the cloying scent of frankincense and trouble that clung to the God, and it made him sick to his stomach.

  “I called Bast,” Seth said in a sonoro
us voice. “The Tribunal will most likely bring in their interrogation team, unless you have something by then and can persuade them to allow you to finish extracting information.”

  That was Seth, a true entity of chaos with a tendency towards evil: play all sides against each other and sit back to watch the show. Ramon knew going into a rogue op meant getting dirty, he’d just forgotten how dirty that could be. The operation was spiraling out of control. Swift action was necessary to maintain control. If the Tribunal sent in their own people it could spell doom for Ian, and trouble for the Council of Wardens.

  He sighed, undid his cuff links and rolled up his sleeves as he ran a plan of action in his mind. “How long until she arrives?”

  “She’s at an unrelated Tribunal Council. You have three hours.”

  “That should be enough to start.” He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and hit speed dial.

  After the first ring his most trusted paladin answered. “Where the hell have you been?”

  “Working. We have a vermin problem.”

  “Who?”

  “Elsa Ulfsdottir. Bring her to me. Be discrete and quick.”

  “Consider it done.”

  Salazar hung up and shoved the cell in his silk pants. He felt a familiar dread mixed with grim anticipation. “So many centuries have passed between the then and the now, and yet, in the blink of an eye the years vanish and the then becomes the now.”

  “I picked you for a reason, Ramon. You’ll get this done, whatever the cost. Very few beings can truly say that about themselves. You can call yourself by whatever name you choose, that will not alter what’s in your blood or your soul. None of us can escape who or what we are.”

  The Egyptian was right of course. Salazar looked down at his hands and flexed his fingers, preparing for what he knew would be an ordeal, on him and his subjects. “I certainly hope not. For all our sakes.”