Blood and Fire

by Carrie Clevenger

  “I need you to watch over me,” I told Xan. We’d ducked into a small room filled with chests. There was very little room for two big guys but I figured it’d go better for us if we stayed put for a bit.

  Xan’s nostrils flared and he leaned against one of the larger containers, all the while watching me. “You’re gonna get us killed.”

  I had to laugh. “They don’t want either of us dead, or we would have been by now.” I didn’t want to explain my fears—for both of us—should we be caught. “But you’d soon wish you were.”

  He frowned. “So, now what?”

  “I’ve gotta do that whole looking out in the—” I waved my hand in the air. How to explain this to a non-magical creature? “Astral travel thing. I need you to make sure no one comes in this door.”

  By now I was sure I could trust him to a degree. It was clear our time in the house had him spooked—hell, I too could do with a good, old-fashioned hightailing it out of here. But the chances of getting back in to get that little item after today’s disturbance seemed unlikely. As much as spending a moment longer in the Luxor mansion was distasteful, leaving empty-handed was less of an option. It was clear House Alba’s elders placed great importance on it. Why, they weren’t telling me at this point and, after this, I wasn’t sure I even wanted to find out.

  Right now I needed to catch my breath. Something in that infusion of vampire blood had hit me like a line of coke—something this Kha’s previous tenant had been well-acquainted with—and if I didn’t rest a little, I’d probably go bug-fuck crazy.

  With a last glance at Xan, who watched me with a thunderous expression, I sank to my haunches with my back pressed against the wall then drew the first deep breath.

  I spun out of my body with an almost audible snap into a maelstrom of daimonic essence. If the material world was in turmoil at our presence, the atmosphere on a magical level was akin to the tempest in the eye of Jupiter.

  I was buffeted this way and that until I was able to drag enough calm about me to rise above the mess. What I found could only be described as two or more aware storm fronts bulging against each other, with very little space for anyone else.

  They hadn’t tasted my signature, though. I was beneath their notice, for now. For a few moments I hovered then marveled at the silvery line that traced back to my Kha. The vampire glowed dully, a paler splotch next to my heat trace.

  I held onto the knowledge that names held power. All Inkarna knew that the moment they came into being in the Hall of Judgment and uttered their Ren to He Who Balances the Scale. I had been sent here to search for the cartouche of Amunet the First, founder of House Alba. If I already had the intent to find this object, then surely uttering the Ren would draw me to its position—especially if House Montu was not to possess the item. Synchronicity played into the hands of those who sought to rectify injustice.

  So long as none of those currently searching for me traced my signature, I was free to conduct my own. Several times I changed the frequency of my being as the others came close. I don’t know how many knew that trick, or indeed were aware that they could alter their patterns, but it worked.

  My near escapes still made me feel a bit like a sparrow hidden as the shadow of a hunting hawk passed over him.

  The house was filled with many wonders. It wasn’t an easy thing looking for a particular star in a nebula. That was the only way I could describe it. All the while I still fretted about my Kha somewhere below me in the world of matter.

  While my gut instinct told me the vampire was no longer my concern—if he’d heal me, surely he wouldn’t mean to kill me—I simply had to trust him with my prone body there. The problem with freeing one’s awareness in this way was judging the passage of time. I could be out of my body for five minutes—or an hour. Each minute that ticked by brought us closer to discovery. I couldn’t turn back empty-handed either. It wasn’t simply a case of losing face. It was admitting weakness to those who never forgot.

  Rocked by the constant explosions of power around me, it took what could have been a few heartbeats or an aeon to focus long enough to quest with tendrils of my own power. Whip-thin thoughts pinged, much like a bat’s sonar, as I scanned the daimonic powers that surged about me. Amunet, Amunet, Amunet. I tasted the word, turned it over and imbued it with the idea of House Alba.

  That seemed to do the trick, because a faint glimmer answered me—good! We were not far and if we went down two floors and headed south…

  Fear coupled with a terrible sense of urgency had me lurch back into awareness in my body. I woke to find Xan crouched over me.

  “Dude, answer me, man! They keep walking past the door. Can you hear me?”

  The disorientation that accompanied my jaunts into the aethers had the vampire doubling then returning to a singular entity before my eyes and I had to dig the heels of my hands into my sockets to rid myself of the sensation.

  “Okay.” I stifled a groan. “Just give me a second.”

  “That was longer than just a couple of minutes. More like fifteen.” Xan rocked back on his heels to seat himself opposite me. Accusation lay heavy in his tone. There wasn’t much space on the floor but he did his damndest not to make any physical contact, his knees pulled up to his chest.

  “That’s not too long.” I managed a smile.

  “It’s not funny.” His scowl was positively ferocious.

  “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I know where we need to go now.”

  He continued to glare at me which, for some reason made him look comical. His hair looked like he’d been raking his fingers through it and bits stuck up at odd angles. I couldn’t help myself. I laughed. After all, what else could I do?

  Xan jumped to his feet. “I’m going to—”

  “What? Leave me here to die? I’ll just come back and bite your arse in a few decades if you’re still knocking around.” A little bit of truth never hurt.

  My words had the desired effect and he froze. “You’re not bullshitting me about this reincarnation thing, are you?”

  “Nuh-uh.” Gingerly I pulled myself onto my feet. My joints felt as though they weren’t articulating properly. How the hell I was to succeed in my task, let alone escape, was beyond me, but it would do no good to communicate my misgivings to the vampire. His agitation was heavy in the air about him.

  My Kha’s previous tenant would, no doubt, have smashed his fist into the wall, or sworn a lot. I could feel those expletives itching to roll off my tongue but I held back. “You ready?” I asked Xan.

  He opened his mouth as though he would argue, but a muffled shout from the passage outside the door had us both freeze. I could hear my pulse as we waited for whoever was on the other side to pound past. Then, when things were as quiet as I thought they would be, I pushed the door open.

  Xan and I shared a quick glance then we exited into the corridor, and I was glad that he stuck close to my heels. I tried to shield us both but the pain that screamed through my brain all but had me double over, with the vampire bumping into me from behind.

  He steadied me. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  The house around us was alive with people calling to each other. Walkie-talkies crackled. I peered at him through a haze of pain. “I’m doing this to keep us both out of sight.” Or so I hoped.

  He frowned and looked about us. “What is up with this green shit anyway?”

  “You see it?”

  Xan nodded.

  “That’s just fucked up. You shouldn’t.” Now wasn’t the time to wonder at this peculiarity. The blue-green motes were there, perfectly visible to me if I squinted. They coruscated about us, mist-like, as though possessed of a life of their own.

  I simply didn’t have the leisure to wonder at the unholy alliance posed between us. It hurt too much to think right now, with the cartouche of Amunet’s location branded on my consciousness.

  Xan proved his worth again and again. I hated to admit that on my own I would have failed, as he often sensed
danger long before I did, so wrapped was I was in my efforts to hide us and zone in on my goal. If the security system had been up and running, I’d have had cameras to deal with on top of my quest.

  The room we entered was unexceptional compared to the countless others we’d passed through during the course of our continued misadventure. It was a small study, with a large bay window overlooking a hidden courtyard with a very long drop to the ornate flagstones decorating the bottom. Three of the walls were lined with bookshelves loaded with a fortune in leather-bound tomes. Gilt letters glinted in the low light. We locked ourselves in.

  Xan pressed his back against the door and looked as though he would sag to the floor. “This it? Can we go now? I’d kill for a smoke.”

  “In a moment.” The way I felt now I’d probably join him with a cigarette, though I’d been trying—and failing—to quit, for months now. I glanced about until my attention settled on a small chest on a shelf nearest the window. It was unadorned, its dark wood gleaming from years of handling. It wasn’t the only box between the books but something about it felt right to my daimonic senses.

  It didn’t take much probing on my part to snick the lock open and I lifted the lid to reveal the object I’d been looking for. It was a flat oval made of gold, with the hieroglyphs raised from a textured surface. I gulped back a sob of relief and quickly slipped the object into my front jeans pocket. The cartouche was small—no larger than a cellphone. The metal felt warm to the touch.

  Xan quirked a brow. “You mean to tell me this is why you were here? For that itty bitty thing?”

  “If it hadn’t been for the cartouche, you’d still be in that sarcophagus in the basement.”

  “True. How about now? Can we go or would you like to hang out some more in this office?”

  “The fun isn’t over yet.” I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, willing some steadiness into my tired limbs.

  “You can’t like magic us outta here, can you?”

  “No.” I looked at him. “It doesn’t quite work like that. I’m sure you’ve figured that out by now.”

  “Damn, okay.” His disappointment was tangible. “Well, let’s get this shit over with. If it’s a fight they want, then fuck it. They get one.”

  He had a point. I let Xan lead. I don’t think it mattered where we went, so long as it was down. There were plenty of doors to the outside once we made it to the ground floor. The only problem is that our enemy would have a better knowledge of the exits and could simply lie in wait for us to stumble into their clutches.

  We hurried down flights of stairs, ducked into side passages and took out small groups of security guards. It became almost mechanical—too easy, I wanted to tell him, though I’d never been much of a brawler in my past life—what a joke—so I had to rely mostly on the vampire now despite my current imposing physique.

  I didn’t want to let on to Xan that these confrontations, some even with one of the more daimonically active initiates, took a lot more out of me than I’d expected. Added to that, this house played tricks on us, I was sure of it. Its presence swirled about us, the anger of its sentience leading us down passages away from where we’d intended.

  Sounds of pursuit were never far off. Voices echoed, deceiving as to their actual location and possibly driving us even farther off course. Xan would pause every so often to sniff at the air like some goddamned dog. I’d have to trust his sense on this one. I sure as hell wasn’t certain anymore where we were headed. Up. Down. Back through the way we’d come in the subterranean levels.

  Those daimonic blasts that I did catch left my head and body feeling as though I’d been beaten by a pack of thugs. My left ear screeched with a terrible ringing and if I jerked my head too quickly pain lanced right through my central nervous system so I almost blacked out. Every breath was a fresh blaze of agony. Cracked ribs? This was likely.

  Xan didn’t look like he’d fared any better. Blood trickled down his nose and out of his ears. The sad fuck was caught up in something that went way over his head and a sudden wave of sympathy for him surprised me. He was just some bloke. Vampire or not, he hadn’t asked to get caught up in House Montu’s business. Hell, in another time and place we might even have been friends.

  Uncomfortable thoughts of my past self slipped forward. We may even have been…

  Ugh. This Kha I possessed now balked at the idea. My former female self was long dead.

  We rounded a corner and pretty much almost stumbled into Alexander Goodkin himself, who somehow succeeded in looking down on us, even though we’d almost taken the last few steps to the ground floor. Unlike the other unfortunates we’d neutralized, the man and his cohorts were ready for us.

  “Alexander Goodkin, I presume,” I said to the man. I had to find some humor in the situation. I wasn’t quite ready to play Stanley to his Livingstone, but then what the hey…

  His eyes widened and I was certain he recognized me from House Montu’s “most wanted” list though he didn’t say anything. Instead he nodded once then I felt the first inrush of his daimonic power. This was not going to end well.

  Chapter 7

  Xan

  I’d had just about enough of the funhouse. The old guy and his two goons didn’t look menacing, but since I’d seen those glittery things floating around Ash, I knew what that meant when I also saw them gather around these guys.

  “Get down!” Ash shoved me to the ground before a sonic blast blew over my head, caught one dude like a leaf in the wind and crammed him into the wall behind us. I knew the tricks in fighting, magic or not. His people were powering up to hit me too and I rolled out of the way to avoid one then fell back on my ass to avoid the other. The old guy cursed and started sucking in all the sparklies, which meant bad news for me and Ash. I charged him like a linebacker, throwing my shoulder into his thin frame and we both went down.

  Charged with electricity and a healthy dose of hatred, he glared at me and I was lifted off him like I’d been launched out of a cannon. I turned my head to see Ash going toe-to-toe with the other two, blasting each other like they were in a double-Ryu match in a Street Fighter gameathon. I shook my head to clear the pain. It wasn’t a big deal. I healed from minor injuries pretty fast, but what did worry me was that the old dude was back on his feet and joining in the psychic battle with Ash.

  It was surreal, the way they shot bolts of lightning and shit at each other. Speaking of lights, they flickered overhead every time one of them attacked the other. I was kind of insulted at how quickly I was disposed of and forgotten, like none of them felt I was any kind of threat. I grunted and slid sideways, gathering my feet underneath me.

  The others tossed threats back and forth like tennis balls. From the wiggly sort of language they used, Alexander Goodkin was like the leader here or some shit. I braced my weight over the heels of my hands, moving slowly. Ash glanced at me and the other three caught it. I smiled innocently and lowered myself to the floor. Dizzying patterns of carpet tickled my nose. Here I was nothing. A spectator. Audience. According to the whole chaining me up and possibly having some pretty nasty uses for me in mind, also obviously House Montu property. It reminded me a little of the houses my kind liked to keep. Families, clans, whatever they wanted to call them. More cults. It was all about the crazy.

  Ash and Goodkin started swinging at each other with fists, apparently bored with blowing smoke up each other’s asses and I took advantage of the moment. Physical combat I could do just fine. One of his goons stepped in my path as I rose to my feet. He growled and showed perfect, even white teeth. His gaze wanted to pin me to the wall like a butterfly in a millionaire’s collection, but I was no butterfly. While he pulled in whatever he used to charge himself, I threw myself at him, catching him by the shoulders to throw him down on the floor. His fingers tightened around his gun, but before he could react, I socked him solid in the jaw.

  “Blast me now. Go ahead.” I punched him again. His eyes crossed then refocused on me again. Another spear of electric
ity shocked me and threw me back, ripping through my body like frozen fire. I sprawled on the now-bloody carpet. A stupid portion of me wondered if they’d have it cleaned or replace it entirely.

  “Enough!” Goodkin shoved Ash away. Even with one man down for the count, it was clear we were completely outgunned. I struggled to rise, my muscles still twitching from the sick amount of energy thrown at it, but only flopped a little like a dying fish dropped on the dried planks of a beachfront pier. Baked fish. I definitely felt a little roasted. Goodkin nodded to the other grunt, a blond man with a severe expression who wore a sports jacket, and he crossed the corridor to drag me up to a kneeling position. My head felt like it weighed a ton and blood dripped from my nose. I’d just about had it with the goddamn fireworks, being blown back by these freaky Jedi motherfuckers, and now, this dude’s hands on me as he pinned my arms way up behind my back.

  “Have at it,” I snarled, well actually slurred. It was like being drunk, but not in a good way. “Fucking do it again. It doesn’t stop me.”

  Goodkin laughed. Ash called out, and my world…simmered. That was the best way I could describe it. I felt like my blood was coming to a slow boil, right in my veins. The pain I’d felt before was a lover’s kiss compared to the building agony deep in my core being.

  It was like my actual soul was on fire.

  “Stop, you’ll kill him!” Ash had risen to his feet.

  Goodkin didn’t take his eyes off me. “And what of it?”

  “You obviously want him alive for a reason.”

  Goodkin scoffed. “There are others. He’s been trouble enough. And make no mistake, you are next.”

  They were talking about me; I could hear the words, but the pain gripping my body was all-consuming. For once, I had absolutely nothing to say. Ash met my gaze and looked back at Goodwin, coming around to face the evil bastard.