Peace Piper

by Allie Burton

  “Nothing.” I kept the lie short, broke eye contact, and yanked my hand out of Math’s.

  “Did you see a silver trumpet with hieroglyphics in your uncle’s shop?”

  “He sells a lot of musical instruments.” I played the question off, pretending to be obtuse. Even if I wanted to help Math, I couldn’t. The Order only helped themselves, and I was their errand person.

  “The horn is long.” Math held out his arms wide. “It’s an antique.”

  Antique didn’t even begin to describe the trumpet’s history.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve got to go.” Turning away, knowing I didn’t want to, I forced myself to take a step. Math’s company was more pleasant than my uncle’s or my mom’s. My stomach churned, acknowledging I’d have to see Aaron and tell him what happened using my uncle’s lies.

  “Hey.” Math grabbed my wrist, reigniting the spark of attraction. “Let me give you my cell phone number.”

  Hating to be manipulated, I studied his seemingly-sincere expression. I hadn’t met any guys my age. Could he truly be interested?

  He’d been nice to me and wanted to give me his number. He must feel this same wonderful allure. That’s why he’d asked if I was okay and was concerned about my injuries. It had to be. I didn’t believe in love at first sight—Mom did—but whatever this was between Math and me, it wasn’t one-sided.

  I handed him my phone, giddiness causing my hand to shake.

  Redness stole up his cheeks. How cute. Giving his number to a girl wasn’t a regular occurrence for him either. The muscles in his forearm bulged as he typed his information.

  He slapped the phone back in my hand. “In case you find out more about the silver trumpet.”

  The earlier warmth chilled as if he’d slapped me with a frozen hand. I knew I should’ve been wary. My normal-cynical-self would’ve seen his game. Something about the light in his eyes and the warmth of his touch had tricked me. Math wasn’t interested in me. He was interested in what I knew about my uncle and the trumpet.

  “You will call, right?” He surveyed my face.

  Jerking my head down, I tried to control showing any emotion. I wouldn’t call because he wasn’t attracted to me and I couldn’t call because my life wasn’t my own. Not yet.

  * * *

  My footsteps echoed on the marble floor of the grand entryway at the Crucis Museum. The guard at the entrance nodded in recognition. I didn’t often enter through the front entrance because I wasn’t allowed to leave my basement prison. Today, I wanted to soak in the grand atmosphere of the Order’s rich heritage.

  Similar to misconnected jumper cables, a volt of anxiety charged through me.

  Be honest with yourself, Piper.

  I wanted to delay my meeting with Aaron. I’d driven the long way back to the museum, enjoying the scenery, knowing I couldn’t procrastinate forever. My single taste of freedom might be my last.

  Going through the main entrance, I’d also bypass Babi, Aaron’s second in command, and visit Mom first. Taking the elevator down, I pressed the buttons in a special order, a code for members only. The sequence took me past the lower level with the cafeteria and loading dock, and deeper into the earth to the secret concave of the Order of Crucis. The museum’s basement.

  My home.

  The elevator jerked to a stop and the doors slid open, revealing marble floors and columns, a large, lavish fountain inlaid with gold, and statuary honoring the gods the Order believed in. This wasn’t any ordinary basement.

  I wended my way past the scary lion statue and an etching of the sun and moon. I trailed my fingers over an image of Imhotep, a human who’d been recognized as a god because of his intelligence in math and healing, and headed to my mother’s quarters.

  “Mom?” I opened the door to her empty sitting room and moved into the bedroom.

  The enormous canopied bed took most of the room. Sheer white curtains hung from the canopy posts. Dozens of pillows propped up the small, listless body lying in the center.

  Mom wore a silk shift decorated with hieroglyphics. Her long, blonde hair splayed against the stark, black pillow, hinting at the luster once there. Her purplish lips stood out against her ghost-white face. Her position hadn’t changed since I’d left earlier.

  My heart weighed heavily in my chest, an extra burden for me to carry. Mom was wasting away one day at a time. And I didn’t know how to help. Maybe waiting for Aaron’s potion to work was a mistake. It was taking too long. I should get Mom out now, if she’d agree to go.

  “Mom, how are you feeling?” I perched on the edge of the bed.

  “You know jostling the mattress hurts me.” Her strong voice belied her weak body. “I’d love to be closer to you too, though.”

  I got off the bed and stood beside her. “I’m sorry.”

  I always did the wrong thing. Got too close or stayed too far. Talked too much or told her too little. Mom always said I’d never survive on my own in the real world. Then, she’d cling to me and tell me how much she needed my support. Uselessness and confusion swarmed in my bloodstream, mixing with her words in my head. I knew I could survive. I’d shown a talent working with cars and machines. Knew someday soon we’d escape this nightmare. Today wasn’t that day.

  Mom lifted her hand and let it drop back onto the pillow. “Aaron told me you went to Uncle Louie’s to retrieve the precious Trumpet of Peace.”

  The swarming buzzed my head. Disappointing Aaron was horrible. I’d experienced that once or twice and then learned not to be in that situation again. But disappointing Mom was far worse. She had too little to live for. “I did go, but the trumpet was…stolen.”

  Truth.

  I hated lying to Mom. She’d been lied to by so many people in her life, especially my father. But if my dad hadn’t lied to her, I wouldn’t be here today. I guess I should be grateful for dear old Dad’s deceit. It was the only thing I knew about him. No name. No location. Mom never gave answers.

  “Stolen!” Mom jerked into a sitting position using her thin arms to hold herself up. “How could you let that happen?”

  The buzzing traveled into my chest pricking me with tiny stings. I was always the first blamed. It was my fault I’d been born. My fault Mom had to leave Egypt. My fault she’d become addicted to drugs. My fault she’d had to turn to the Order for help.

  Fisting my hands, I controlled the resentment and rebellion charging inside. Since it was my fault I planned to fix the situation.

  “Relax, Mom.” I fluffed the pillow behind her and helped her to lie back down.

  I’d been too young to understand the complexities in my life until the last few years. I’d thought of escaping, dreamed of running away. Mom had been adamant about staying. Now that I was sixteen, I would leave and I’d convince Mom to come with. I was waiting for the right moment. Once she was healthy, we could make a new life. That’s what kept my anxiety and simmering anger in check.

  “Aaron is going to be furious.” Mom shifted and her face crumpled with pain.

  I stilled the buzzing inadequacies and firmed my defense. “It wasn’t my fault.” Although that’s not what Uncle Louie had told Aaron.

  “You knew how important the trumpet is to Aaron and me.” Her normal, dissatisfied expression settled on her face. “The trumpet will save me.”

  My eyes burned because she believed this magical nonsense and she believed I never did anything right. “I’m sorry.”

  The hint of tears evaporated. My lips firmed. When I got us both out of here, she’d believe in me. Place her trust in me. Not Aaron.

  “The silver Trumpet of Peace is needed for an important ceremony for the Order. The ritual will cleanse me of this disease.”

  I didn’t believe a trumpet could cure.

  “And will raise you, Piper, to your next level of consciousness.”

  Yada. Yada. Yada.

  Mom was always going on about my level of consciousness and reaching my full potential and connecting with my
past. I didn’t care about what happened to me in the next life. I was more worried about surviving today.

  * * *

  Waiting for Aaron in his outer office could be compared to slow-dripping water torture. The thud, thud, thud of my heart drained energy away from me. My body felt heavy and yet I seemed to be standing on my tiptoes, balancing between fear, guilt, blame, and desperation.

  What would Aaron do to me? How could he cure Mom if he didn’t have the trumpet? Not that I believed any of it. I was just biding my time, doing as ordered, until my escape plans were finalized.

  The scary images etched into the wall of his outer office didn’t make me feel better. Scenes of removing organs from someone’s body. A picture of slaves being buried alive with their deceased pharaoh. A bloody battle.

  Would Aaron do any of these things? The Order’s beliefs were strict and punishment was quick.

  My gaze darted toward the exit. I could run away now, without Mom. Leave this place and this organization forever. It wasn’t the first time the thought had crossed my mind. But I couldn’t leave Mom and she couldn’t run. She could barely walk.

  Babi came out of the office. He reminded me of the baboon he was named after. Hairy on his face and arms, unkempt, hulking, intimidating. He wore black slacks and a black button-down shirt. A gold chain hid the tattoo I knew was on his neck.

  “Aaron will see you now.” The one time Babi’s voice actually sounded gleeful. He must know I was in trouble.

  My legs shook trudging into Aaron’s inner sanctum. My insides trembled. As the leader of the Magical Order of Crucis in the States, he reserved the best rooms for himself. He had the outer sanctum, his office, and a three-room suite for his living quarters.

  An elaborate antique desk centered the room. The walls were covered in murals with scenes from the Order’s ceremonies. Intricate, carved statues circled as if watching me. Maybe they were. The museum’s security was flawless.

  Aaron’s scary blue eyes speared me from across the desk. Their strange blue color was light and bright. I wondered if he wore special contacts. He controlled people with a single look or word. He used to control me. He still believed he did.

  He didn’t greet me or even stand. He lounged in a cushy chair playing with a sharp curved sword. “How much of what your uncle said was lies?”

  Imagining the sword held to my throat, I bit my lip. Lying wasn’t an option. I’d try to keep the damage to Uncle Louie minimal. “Um, the trumpet was stolen by two men.”

  “Were you in the room?” His tone cut through the air like the knife would cut me.

  I twisted my hands together to stop the visible shaking. “I was at the pawn shop, yes.”

  “Did you see the two men?” Aaron leaned forward, analyzing every quirk of my brow or lift of my mouth.

  “From the side.” I smashed my lips together, not wanting to say too much. The more I talked the more trouble I could get into.

  “Why didn’t you follow them?” His oh-so-reasonable tone clashed with the anxiety and the fear churning inside of me.

  Everyone but me had gone unconscious. “I was knocked unconscious.”

  “Really?” He raised one black-painted brow. A slight-all-knowing smile twitched his lips. His gaze pierced as if he could dig into my thoughts.

  I opened my mouth, closed it. Opened it again. What did he know? How? I had to volunteer something. Anything.

  “Then…then these two guys came and started asking questions about the trumpet.”

  “Cops?”

  “No. They were around my age.”

  Both young and cute. And Math had given me his number. My face scorched from attraction and changed to embarrassed heat. He’d asked, but not for the reason I’d thought.

  Aaron tapped the sharp point of the sickle-shaped knife into the antique desk and I imagined him carving the knife into my skin. He stood and swaggered around his desk. His tailored, three-piece suit fit his thin body perfectly. “What did they look like?”

  Math possessed intelligence in his sparkling green eyes. His clothes were baggy hiding his muscular frame. He had a dark spot on the side of his neck.

  Aaron paced toward me holding the strange knife.

  My shaking body rumbled like a badly tuned engine. I didn’t want Aaron coming after them, but I had to save myself. “Young, dark hair, trim builds.” A generic description.

  “That’s it?” He broadcasted his disbelief with two raised eyebrows and an angled chin. Stepping into my space, he stared. The point of the knife was inches from my skin.

  The rumbling shifted and rocked, making me off-balance. I spouted, “They asked about the trumpet.”

  A knowing gleam flashed from his ice-blue orbs. “Soul Warriors.”

  “What?”

  He took a step back, slid his fingers along the dull side of the blade. “The warriors were stone shabtis who were brought back to life by an ancient amulet during last summer’s full lunar eclipse.”

  The hairs on my arm sizzled with shock. Math was made of stone? He’d felt real to me. He’d touched my shoulder and taken my hand.

  “They are dark, dangerous warriors who are collecting magical artifacts to use for evil purposes.” Aaron brought my attention back to him by getting right in my face. He wanted me to pay attention. “They’re trying to get their hands on the trumpet, too.”

  I’d seen and heard a lot of crazy things since coming to live with the Order. Sure, Math was tall, dark and mysterious, but dangerous?

  “What did they say to you?” Aaron slashed the sickle sword into the air.

  The thwacking repeated in my head. “Th-they asked if I’d contact them when I heard something about the trumpet.”

  “How would you contact them?”

  Shoot. I’d said too much. “I, um…”

  “Can you contact them?” He slashed again with the sword, this time coming close to my ear.

  I froze on the spot, afraid he might not miss next time. “One of them gave me his cell phone number.” Hating I’d given Aaron almost everything I knew, I mentally berated myself.

  “Good.” He set the sword on his desk and rubbed his hands together. “You’ll call and offer to work together to find the trumpet.”

  “Wh-what?”

  “The Soul Warriors will have more information. They use their black magic to steal secrets.” Aaron’s deep voice spouted ridiculousness like fact. He believed crazy things. “You will pretend to work with them, send the clues you find to me, and steer them the wrong way.”

  “No.” The word came out without thought.

  “Are you afraid, Piper?”

  I was afraid. Afraid to call Math—a guy. Afraid to be with him because of the things he’d made me feel. Afraid he’d learn the truth about me. That I was errand-girl for the Order. Uneducated. A grease monkey.

  “I’ve got a lot of repair work to do. One of the museum’s trucks is down and there’s that computer needing repair…”

  “Sit down.” Aaron pointed at the upholstered couch with a yelling finger. “Let me explain about the trumpet.”

  I didn’t enjoy when he sat me down and treated me like I had a right to know, as if it was important to me, too. As if I believed this hocus-pocus.

  “The silver trumpet is an instrument of peace.” Aaron sat next to me, close. Way too close. Threateningly close. “The Order plans to use the trumpet to forge harmony in the world and heal your mother. While the Soul Warriors will destroy the instrument and peace will never occur on Earth. Do you want that on your conscience?”

  I squirmed under his hard stare. Of course, I didn’t want to be the cause of never achieving peace. “No, but someone else—”

  “Are you suggesting I picked the wrong Order member to handle this important task?” Aaron choked. He wasn’t used to being denied.

  I didn’t want to contact Math or help the Order find the trumpet. I needed time to finish fixing the car I planned to steal. I needed to find a real doctor willing to help Mom for f
ree. I needed to plan my escape route. “I don’t want—”

  He grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at him. “Listen to me, Piper. You and your mother are living here for free. I provide your housing, your food, your clothes.” His fingers pinched my skin. “I personally oversaw your mother’s withdrawal process from cocaine and heroin addiction. Now, I watch over her during her illness, providing medicine to keep her alive.”

  The initial gratitude I’d felt for Aaron had waned. He’d been a savior when I was seven and Mom had been drunk and high all the time. I’d been too young to understand her cruelty and neglect and too helpless to stop her from abusing the drugs.

  Aaron had recognized Mom’s drug addiction and had offered us an opportunity. A chance to take an expensive medicine to stop Mom’s withdrawal symptoms and heal her drug addiction. The only catch: we had to live at the Order’s secret headquarters and become members.

  Prisoners in a cultish cage.

  Internally, I shivered.

  Mom had gotten healthy. She’d become a true believer and a vessel for the Order. Until she’d become seriously ill with some unknown disease.

  I’d become an un-disciple, not that Aaron knew this. And very recently, the Order’s errand person. The silver trumpet was the first time I’d been entrusted with an errand by myself. With something valuable. And I blew it. Failed.

  My failure sliced my lungs, ripping open a gaping wound to self-sufficiency. Not because I hadn’t brought back the trumpet, but because this errand job let me escape the confines of the museum for a few hours. I’d gotten a car to use, and a little freedom. I remembered the fresh air on my face and the wind in my hair. I couldn’t lose that. Any other time I’d left the museum I’d had Mom or Aaron or Babi leading me around like a dog on a leash. Freedom meant time to finish my runaway plans.

  If I could give Aaron a substantial lead, he’d have to let me off the hook. “I forgot, I’ve got a video of the men who stole the trumpet.” I whipped out my phone and turned the video on.

  He watched the video intently asking me to freeze the frame when the thieves came into view. “I should’ve known Louie lied. Good job, Piper.”