Stigmata

by L M Adams

  “You are not being kind; you are testing the waters.”

  “I see they are still choppy with your sour mood.”

  Lucien sighs deeply, “There is all of this room,” he gestures out towards the plains of the savanna, “yet you must ride so close to what is mine?”

  “You speak as if he is a sack of grain and I am thief in the night.”

  “He is my husband – I would not kill you for stealing a sack of grain.”

  “You would kill me for flirting with your husband during the Ha’mara?!”

  “I have not yet decided – I am trying to work on me.”

  I sigh, the sad part is… he really is trying to work on him. To keep the peace I’ll try to make it clear that I only want to drink Lucien’s…. mead.

  “Thanks,” I hand the skin back to Nassor with a smile, he reaches out rubbing the back of my hand, “Keep it – a gift from me.”

  “I will murder you!” Lucien yells as Nassor laughs riding away to the Sekhmet ladies in the front – I assume to try his arts with them.

  “He only does that to get under your skin,” I sigh and decide to take another sip of the mead, it does numb the pain a bit.

  He huffs, “He is a horny little toad who belongs with Ishtars!” Lucien yells and Nassor waves a hand in the air as he chats up Fana, ignoring the Raja’s ire.

  These are an odd people. I know that Nassor respects Lucien, yet he tries his damnedest to get a rise out of him at every turn.

  “Is it true, my emir?!” The excited voice of Keyon yells out as he moves his horse up to ride next to me. As usual, he is bubbling with excitement. His short locs bouncing as he handles the horse with more expertise than I would have thought he had. Nakuru, the other young son, holds onto Keyon’s waist… just as wide-eyed and excited.

  “Is what true?”

  “That you leaped up in the air thirty feet and rode a gazelle, killing it with your bare hands before it touched the ground?!”

  “Who told you that?”

  Nassor looks back over his shoulder at me, grinning.

  I sigh, “Well… I used a spear first.”

  “Tell us the story, emir,” the shy Nakuru asks.

  “Well, I have never hunted like your people have hunted… and I feared I would not be strong enough for the task…” I embellish a little, but not a lot. I try to tell my little tale with a little artistic flair to feed the imaginations of these young sons who I’m sure worry like I worried. That they won’t be fast enough or strong enough to hunt with the legendary Atums.

  Because we all need something to believe in, we all need hope.

  When I’m done with the tale, Keyon looks back at Nakuru nodding – “Then this is what it means to lose so that you may win? You have hurt yourself greatly to be victorious.”

  “Yeah,” I nod, “this is what it means to lose so that you can win. To sacrifice for the greater good. It wouldn’t have been right, or honorable for me to leave the gazelle in pain.”

  They both nod agreeing, “You are wise, my emir.”

  Lucien huffs, “Then ask him why he won’t feed on my power so that he can heal.”

  They look back at me with curious expressions.

  I look at Lucien, “That’s just lowdown and dirty.”

  He shrugs, not giving a shit that he’s using children to try and manipulate me.

  I look back to the young impressionable boys. “I wish to keep the scars of these battles, these victories as tokens to remember my time here.”

  They both nod; “Then this is honorable – yes. Is it not my Raja?”

  Lucien shrugs, “I like my husband pretty.”

  My cheeks catch fire with embarrassment.

  Keyon looks at me again oddly and looks back to Lucien, “Yes well, he is still pretty enough, my Raja. Not as beautiful as our Kandaka, but he is not so very bad… you just have to ignore the bruises, and the dirt, and the messy hair and the…”

  “Enough!” I snap and Lucien just laughs and laughs.

  123

  Jack – History of the vampire

  We return to the city Atum in good time. Lucien wants to go with me to Saabir, but its custom for him to bless the meat and light the cooking fire as the strongest of the hunters… not to mention the preparing of the carcasses – there’s still a lot of work to do. I can see he’s torn over wanting to tend to me and to see to his duty.

  “I can manage just fine.”

  He still looks worried as he lets Keyon take his horse and lead it away. “You have not been off by yourself, Capaneus.”

  “Then there’s no time like the present, let me… let me try to find my footing here.”

  He sighs, “Straight to Saabir and then straight back to our rooms?”

  “Yes, Father.” I droll low.

  He leans into me, “My name is Lucien,” he grumbles low.

  I swallow over a lump in my throat as his words glide over the scar on my neck, “Yes, Lucien.”

  “Your husband. Never think of me as anything else.”

  “Yes,” I nod, “yes, Lucien.” Of course he’s still going to be sensitive about that.

  “Who’s my husband?”

  “I am,” I whimper and give him my neck.

  “What are you?”

  “I’m your husband,” fuck, my cock is rock hard, fuck!

  “Get something for the rose, I’ll be fucking my husband and my wife tonight.”

  I nod curtly, my eyes darting around trying to make sure no one is watching this man spindle my soul with his pinky.

  “I think I could make you come in your pants right here, couldn’t I…. husband?” He kisses the scar on my neck gently and my sack tightens.

  “Don’t,” I hiss, “please don’t.”

  I hold my breath as someone walks past us, leading another horse away.

  “Kiss your husband and I won’t.”

  “I’m tired of you blackmailing me!” I hiss.

  He rubs my cock with back of his hand and my head swims with pleasure, “I haven’t even started blackmailing you. Now be a good mate and kiss your husband goodbye.”

  I turn my head and kiss his lips quickly; I look around again praying no one saw me.

  “That is not a kiss,” he grabs my by the back of my head and god he claims my lips, I try to keep them closed but when he flexes his fingers in the back of my head I relent, I get the feeling he could wait all day for me to get over my shit and give him a kiss.

  I open my mouth to his persistence, he cuts his tongue on my fang, on purpose, and I moan over the taste of his blood as it fills my mouth. My body needing it. God, I fucking need it and he… he knew it.

  He pulls back far sooner than I wish for him to, “Just a little to help the process, now go before I take you to a dark corner and claim my rights as your husband.”

  I nod, a little bemused, “Okay.”

  He turns away, “Nassor – show Capaneus the way to Saabir’s and keep your fucking hands and your disrespectful flirtations to yourself.”

  “Yes, my Raja…. Ready?”

  “Huh?” I look at Nassor.

  “To go to Saabir’s?”

  I stare at Lucien as he walks down another path towards the entrance to the Lion’s side of the palace.

  “Yeah,” I whisper – not really understanding what just happened… and why I’m not freaking out about it.

  The walls and decorations are all a blur as we walk to the Isis wing of the palace. It’s all gorgeous, but I’m completely distracted by that kiss. It was our first public kiss since the wedding. No panic attack? Why am I not having a panic attack? I should be having a panic attack.

  Sure… I feel a little lost, shocked maybe. But no panic attack, no evil whispers in the voice of my father?

  Nothing?

  As usual, Nassor is a chatterbox, “Fana gave me a solid maybe for tonight, but I must make her first. If I do that, no one else will touch me, everyone is afraid of the Sekhmets. She is worth it though, and I’ve never had
a Sekhmet. Still, I am not sure I wish to be a single father.”

  “What?” I finally ask, coming back to myself after that very intense moment with Lucien.

  “Ah yes, you do not know. A Sekhmet only keeps the child if it’s a girl – if it’s a boy they are sent back to Atum to live with the father. It makes the Sekhmets a small but powerful tribe, that and the power they still hold as sisters to Horus.”

  He looks over his shoulder, “They say fucking a Sekhmet is more dangerous than going to war, they fuck with claws and teeth and very likely will take a piece of your soul to keep. Can you imagine that? Having part of your soul fucked out of you.” He sounds excited at the prospect.

  “You really are a horny toad,” I raise an eyebrow at the man.

  He shrugs, “It is the Ha’mara.”

  I huff, “So you really don’t want to settle down?”

  “Oh aye, but after Xolani, it is hard.”

  “Who is Xolani?”

  He gives me a glance and all the joy he just had; seems to leave him, “She was my heart song. We grew up with her at Hari’s mother’s home. She was the one for me.”

  Was?

  “What happened?”

  He shrugs, “They say complications, she got sick no one knows from what… no one could help her, and the fever took her from me.”

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper.

  “Hari says one day my heart may sing again… but I do not see how. Maybe if I get an Ishtar, and they can use their majic to make me forget about my love of Xolani?”

  “I don’t think it works like that.”

  “No?”

  I shake my head no thinking of Peter and Minx, Tabari and Tala and how Jaevia tried to make Tala and Peter love one another with her power – but only seemed to hurt everyone in the end.

  The greatest defense the gods gave us against them is choice and not even the power of Ishtar can change that… even if you want it to.

  “Hari says that the one may come, that his Jaevia was lightning to his heart like my Xolani – but growing to love like he did with you can be just as powerful and just as rewarding.”

  “He said that?”

  He nods, “Aye. He gave me great counsel on the night of his homecoming. My heart was sad, he gave me hope again.”

  “In the hall of warriors?” I ask now realizing what I thought I saw; I didn’t see at all. I thought I was watching Lucien becoming familiar with Nassor… was I really only watching him comfort his friend?

  Nassor nods, “He must know much on the subject of love to claim the two of you.”

  I huff with disbelief… but then I mentally pause, “You know what? Maybe he does.”

  Because somehow, he got me to get over my shit enough to give love with a man, real love, a try again.

  “We are here,” Nassor stops in front of two massive wooden double doors, both of them open. Mosaics of large trees are carved into the doors, yup, this is the Isis side of the palace.

  “Would you like me to wait for you?”

  I shake my head no, “I can manage to find my way back.”

  “Then I leave you, Capaneus, and I go to hunt again for things far softer, or perhaps something harder.” He winks at me and turns… leaving me to wonder exactly who that man is.

  All frivolous on the surface, but I think there’s a hidden depth to him – one he hides under jokes and insults so no one can see how much pain he is in… he reminds me of Matthias.

  Xolani… that is a pretty name.

  124

  Jack – History of Set

  I walk into the large antechamber of Saabir’s quarters, but I can no longer be sure if I am inside or outside. The air smells of a preverbal jungle, and every surface I see is covered in that jungle. Flowering blue and purple vines with prickly thorns the size of lion’s fangs. The sound of birds and things that creep and crawl, the sun peeking through a canopy of green above.

  The magic of Isis is here… Saabir is a true son and she blesses him for his faithfulness, that much is evident. The marble and stone of the palace only peeks through the brown thick vines and branches shyly. Honestly, I wonder if it has to ask permission. Here, Isis is Mistress and Atum would do well to remember it.

  I walk further into the chamber and the expanse of green seems to explode even further, climbing up to the roof I can now see is made of crystal glass. The sunlight is transformed into a kaleidoscope of color, making it more than I ever thought was possible.

  Since first I came to the ancient lands of Atum, my heart feels… right.

  “It takes your breath away, does it not, brother?”

  I turn at the sound of Saabir’s voice and see him standing no more than a few feet away, smiling. He’s dressed simply in a pair of loose-fitting white cloth pants and a vest made of that same material that reveals a bit of his well-muscled chest and abs. His arms and head have small beads of sweat and it’s easy to see I disturbed him while he was working, yet he doesn’t seem anything other than happy to see me.

  “Yes,” I whisper still feeling both lost and found.

  He wipes his hand with a white cloth, “Do you need care, brother?”

  “Yes!” I shout and shake my head, trying to clear it, “Sorry, yes, I split open a few stitches on the hunt…”

  “Come,” he waves me towards him, “I will see to your needs, my brother.”

  I’m sort of mesmerized as I follow him through this jungle captured within a manmade construct.

  “This is truly just a fraction of her power, and even what we still have is, but a portion left to us after fracturing her heart,” Saabir says as we walk through chamber after chamber of plants that seem to come from all over the world truly.

  “You mean after making Ra’suá?”

  He nods, “Still, the lands of Isis are something of rare beauty,” he looks back over his shoulder, “you should make the pilgrimage.”

  I smile, “I’m not sure we’re going to be here that long.”

  “Ah well, perhaps it is better to not know of what you’ve lost.”

  We step out into a garden that is truly ‘outside’. Small and circular, but with high walls that have hieroglyphics chiseled into the face. In the center of the area is a fountain with a statue of the goddess Isis perched in the waters, chiseled marble vines grow up from the water covering her body. She holds a large pitcher and from the mouth of the jar, water sprouts back down into the fountain.

  “Life giving,” I whisper looking at it.

  “Yes, water is life… and can also end life – much is the same within the duality of the gods.”

  I often think of Mother Nature as life giving, beauty and bounty – but I have seen her rage as well, entire cities and towns torn down by the might of a hurricane. Entire swaths of land deserted because of drought. Even her, even the kindness of Isis, knows of power and vengeance.

  Saabir goes over to a table that has his healer’s kit. A few clay jars, with pestle and mortars, he was obviously replenishing his stores.

  He motions me over to the table and has me take off my shirt and turn around.

  “A few stitches?” He huffs.

  “Yes well… perhaps more than a few.”

  “Is this what the Raja calls rest?”

  “Don’t blame Lucien. I didn’t want to be left behind for the hunt and…”

  “… and you rather harm yourself than be seen as weak?”

  My chest deflates, “Yes.”

  He makes a tisking noise, “They say the Atums are prideful creatures, but I daresay an Isis’s pride will shadow the entire world.”

  I chuckle low nodding.

  “If you can stand a bit of pain, I have something that will hurry the healing, and leave you with these badges of honor you seem to want so badly.”

  “I can handle pain,” I stand up straight again.

  “Come then my prideful brother,” he pats my arm and I turn back around to face him, having the decency to look abashed. The man did tell me to rest.


  He laughs as he turns away, “Enough pride to stare down an oliphant.”

  “Shani!” He calls out as he leads me through a different door back into the palace.

  This time we step into his living quarters. Also bursting with plant life, but also furniture. The roof is again crystal glass in a beautiful design of a tree. The glass has been tinted in brown and greens and casts a colorful shadow of a tree onto the stone floor.

  Bookshelves line one wall filled to the brim with scrolls and books bound with twine. A seating area in front of a marble carved fireplace.

  A desk and chair, where he obviously does his writing. And a large dinner table with chairs on the other side of the room that has another door I’m assuming goes further into his quarters.

  “Shani!” He calls again and then looks apologetically to me, “My youngest child and only daughter – both a blessing and a curse that one.”

  I give him a smile and suddenly wonder if my own daughter would have been both a blessing and a curse.

  He goes over to a set of shelves and pulls down a glass pitcher filled with wine…

  “I don’t want a drink; I’ve had enough liquor to last me a lifetime.”

  “You will need the fortification…”

  “How badly will this hurt?”

  He gives me a look and I nod, perhaps wine wouldn’t be a bad idea.

  Finally the door opens and a pretty young girl, no more than ten steps through. Beautiful dark skin, sprinkled in what could only be magic, she’s dressed in a green frock and her hair is done in locs, about shoulder length, leaved vines intertwined with her hair and I honestly can’t tell if it was done on purpose or if she’s just come from a bit of mischief.

  “Aabe?” She glances at me then back to her father.

  He sighs as he sees her and says something in hurried Coptic, she looks down at her bare feet, still adorable as all hell… I’m guessing she was up to a bit of mischief.

  “You know better than this, Shani… and welcome our guest,” he switches back to the common tongue.

  She turns to me and bows, “Welcome to our home, brother.”