Warrior's Destiny

by Allie Burton

  “I, um, have to…” He looked at me, then at the sky, then at the ground.

  “I could show you how to live on the streets.” Otherwise, he’d never survive. “And maybe, introduce you to Fitch who could teach you a, um, profession.” As long as he forgives me for messing up this heist. I still had the amulet. That’s all the client wanted.

  Xander’s head jerked up as if my suggestion was a surprise gift. “Yeah. Sure. That would be great.”

  “So, we’re partners?” I held out my hand to shake.

  He raised his arm, then stopped.

  That’s right. I couldn’t touch him. But we needed to seal the deal somehow. Twisting my wrist, my palm faced out toward him. “Partners?”

  He moved his much bigger hand across from mine. Palm out, fingers splayed and only an inch apart. It was like a sheet of glass was between our hands. Still I could feel the heat coming off his skin. This was as close to touching as we’d get.

  His gaze lasered into mine as if looking into my soul. “Partners.”

  Inside, I sighed softly. A sense of calmness returned. “Okay, so what’s the plan?”

  The shouts from the Society had quieted. Either they’d left or they were discussing a new way to capture us.

  “We’ll circle back around in the woods.” He used his hands to motion.

  We stood and rushed across the clearing and into a group of trees. Another stitch tore up my side and I squeezed my waist. I couldn’t take much more running tonight. Or jogging. Or walking. “Do they really want to kill you?”

  His steps paused and he shot me a quizzical expression. “How did you know what the Society was talking about?”

  “Huh? I was right next to you. How could I not hear?”

  “They were talking in ancient Egyptian.”

  Chapter Seven

  Olivia

  My jaw dropped, snapped shut and then dropped again. “What?” No way. Impossible.

  “Every word.”

  I understood Egyptian. Cool. Freakishly-cool. I’d never taken a foreign language in my life. How many countries spoke ancient Egyptian?

  Zero. Why couldn’t I learn a useful language like Spanish?

  “How?”

  “I’m guessing King Tut’s soul interpreted for you.” Xander grumbled and his feet stomped on the dirt path. “Under Jeb’s tutoring, I spent hours studying the ancient Egyptian language. What a waste. Obviously, even he didn’t know all the powers the host would inherit.”

  My thoughts veered all over the place as we walked in silence. Mostly with confusion. Complete confusion. Jeb didn’t know all the powers. Xander hadn’t learned much of anything. I knew absolutely nothing. At this point, I didn’t even know what questions to ask. A stupid-helplessness suffocated.

  He picked up a branch and started breaking pieces off. “I haven’t heard the Society in awhile. I think they’re gone.”

  Only natural sounds clicked and hooted and howled in the woods. I shivered. The traffic from the road filtered to a slight din.

  “For now.” No way had they given up, although now we had time to figure out a plan.

  My mind ticked through everything as we trekked through the park. I was on the run from both the cops and a strange Society. I needed to get the amulet to Fitch and explain what happened. Hopefully, he’d believe me and help. I hosted an ancient pharaoh and possessed unknown powers. At least, I was wasn’t alone.

  I wasn’t alone at all. I was the farthest thing from alone with Tut talking in my head and sometimes taking control of my body, and Xander as my temporary partner.

  “What other things can I do?” If I had strange powers, I needed to know what they were.

  Xander hopped onto a large boulder, his tunic riding up his thighs. Then, he jumped down on the other side. “Jeb told me I had to be careful with the amount of power I used once the transfer occurred. Not to use it recklessly.”

  “Like sucking water out of a pond.”

  “Yeah, like sucking water out of a pond.” Xander’s voice held a teasing note and he laughed—a deep rumble.

  The sound went into my soul, sparking inside. Every nerve ending tingled. Every sense went on full alert. Then, the spark extinguished, doused. Like a revolt inside my body. Random. One second turned on, the next off like a switch being controlled by someone else. Another freedom taken away.

  Rounding the boulder, I continued to walk in silence. Was I attracted to Xander? Great body—and I’d seen most of it, thick hair, movie-star smile. He’d helped me. He’d saved me. He’d stuck by my side.

  I’d never been attracted to the guys at home. We weren’t a real family and yet they never made a move on me. I figured I wasn’t attractive and Xander might think the same thing. Glancing at my almost non-existent chest, I tugged on my black long-sleeved T-shirt and wiggled back and forth.

  “Wouldn’t using the power make it burnout more quickly?” Could I make my boobs grow? “If I didn’t have power, the Society would stop searching for me.”

  He halted and I stopped next to him. His intense stare made me fidget.

  “By burnout, they mean die.”

  “D-die?” My lips numbed on the word. My eyes widened like an owl at night. “As in dead? Gone?”

  I found it difficult to breathe as if I already suffered from this fate. My ears pounded with the march of death. Between the uncontrolled running, the deciphering of ancient Egyptian and sucking water, I’d burnout in no time. I’d burnout before getting the amulet to Fitch, before seeing Tina and Doug. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I was told the anointing ceremony would stop the burnout. Now, I’m not so sure.”

  “What do we need for the anointing ceremony?” Tiny flares lit up my upper body, one after the other. I could feel the fire build.

  Xander blew out a breath. “If I had to guess—”

  “You mean you don’t know?”

  His lips firmed as if angry with himself. “The ancient Egyptians used special oils in all their ceremonies.”

  “What kind of oil?” I could run to the store and buy a bottle of olive oil right now.

  “Shh.” He stiffened and I realized how in tune with him I must be to notice. “I hear something.”

  My ears perked up and listened, fearful I’d hear, and understand, Egyptian chanting again. Fearful I’d use more of my powers and get closer to burnout. “The Society?”

  He moved forward and peered around a tree. “Just street people.” He said it with a tinge of distaste.

  Glaring, my inner fear diffused and turned into outward anger. “Temporarily homeless.” I went to shove him aside and he jumped away. I’d lived on the streets for awhile, understood what it was like. They’d be cold and hungry. “Do you have anything to give them?”

  “Yeah, like where am I going to carry dollars?” He indicated his white tunic. For being raised by a rich Society, he didn’t carry basic necessities.

  “I’ve got money.” I always carried a little for emergencies. I pushed through the bushes.

  A group of men wearing dirty and heavy winter coats, even though it was summer, huddled around a trash can. A measly fire flamed inside. Still, they tried to warm their hands. You’d think being homeless in San Francisco would be easy, but the damp fog seeped into your bones and never left even during the warm months.

  A man with a grizzled gray beard spotted me. “Money to spare for food?”

  “Yeah.” Stepping forward, I reached into my pocket.

  Xander came up beside me. His breath moved the hair next to my ear causing my skin to tingle. “Do you think this is a good idea? What if they spend it on alcohol or drugs?”

  “Not every homeless person is a druggie. Some are just down on their luck.” I held out a five dollar bill. “I need clothes for my friend. Can I buy them off you?”

  “What?” His face scrunched in disgust.

  “You can’t run around in a sheet. It makes you easy to spot.”

  “New trend?” The man with the bear
d laughed hoarsely before turning away. The others stayed by the garbage can.

  Every piece of clothing the homeless owned they wore on their bodies. The more clothes, the warmer they stayed and the less chance of losing something precious. I’d never forget those days and still kept my few possessions in a cardboard box away from the rest of Fitch’s family.

  “I’ll sell you clothes.” A different man straightened away from the garbage can. He wore a tightly-wrapped cloak with ragged edges and what looked like neatly-cuffed pants underneath.

  Xander looked up at him. Way up at him. “He’s a bit tall.”

  “Sorry, I don’t think your clothes will fit.” I wanted to offer him a portion of the money just for volunteering, except I couldn’t afford to pay everyone.

  The homeless man flashed a white-toothed smile through his black-streaked face. “One of my friends will help. What’re you looking for?”

  I glanced at Xander and noted the muscles of his bare thighs. My tummy toasted and tingled. “Definitely, pants.”

  “And a shirt.” He looked at the sandals on his feet. “Shoes, if possible.”

  “Let me consult my, uh, friends.” The man twisted around and walked with renewed energy as if earning a little cash invigorated him.

  How sweet. They considered each other friends. When I lived on the street I had acquaintances, never pals. We looked out for ourselves.

  The man shuffled over to the group and negotiated with them. Maybe he’d been a business man in his previous life. What had happened to bring him down so low?

  For some reason, I bristled with superiority. All my sympathy fled. The man was no better than a slave. Worse. At least slaves worked. The angle of my chin tilted up. I sniffed the foul air. Turning, I moved away from the homeless filth.

  Against my will.

  “Where are you going?” Xander’s question held a note of panic. Like he didn’t want to be left alone with these people.

  My presence should not be soiled by lowlifes.

  Tut’s voice. And his opinion, not mine.

  My experience on the streets started when I was eight because the other foster kids I’d lived with called me names, stole my things, and hit me. Living on the streets, on my own, had to be better.

  I was wrong.

  After weeks on the street and tired of dumpster diving, I’d snatched a cookie from a coffeehouse. The clerk grabbed my skinny wrist so tight I thought he’d break my arm. He’d threatened to call the police. Fitch had paid for the cookie and walked me outside. I expected a lecture about theft, but instead he’d said, If you’re going to steal, let me show you how to do it right. From that point forward Fitch had tutored me, become my mentor, and now my jailor.

  I struggled to stop my feet. I couldn’t let Tut win this battle.

  Like Fitch won every battle. He’d taken me in, fed me, and taught me an illegal trade. We lived in condemned buildings and when the cops kicked us out, we found another place to call home. At least temporarily.

  Running away had entered my head only to be dismissed. Where would I go?

  Hating the life—the risks, the constant change, the on edge feeling—I’d vowed to pull myself out of the ever increasing danger. But it was too late for me. Too late to go to school and get educated. Too late to rejoin the foster care system. And definitely too late to be adopted.

  It wasn’t too late for the younger kids in Fitch’s family. This job, this amulet, was to have been their salvation. It was going to help me, help them.

  Struggling with my body, I finally got my forward momentum stopped. Tut’s mutiny was over. I swiveled back around and stood beside Xander.

  The tall homeless man bent lower, shielding another guy with his body. Loafers plopped to the ground, followed by a pair of dirty jeans. The man wore long johns underneath. Another guy, took off his coat and stripped off an old black concert T-shirt. Both men handed the clothes to the tall homeless man who had become our negotiator.

  “Here you go.” He held out the clothes the other men had shed.

  Xander squished up his nose. “Disgusting.” He didn’t understand the sacrifice the men had made. If he was going to make it on the streets, he’d need to be less picky.

  “Take the clothes.” Controlling an urge to hit him, I held the money between my fingers.

  Our negotiator paused before pinching the paper and slipping the five dollars into his gloved hand. “Thanks.”

  Uneasiness crawled up my spine like ants foraging for food. His delayed touch had been…odd. I ignored the feeling. I was just uncomfortable paying him and not the men who’d actually given up their warmth. Or Tut didn’t want to touch him.

  “Buy them food and coffee.” I wished I could do more.

  He nodded.

  Xander slipped the jeans on under the tunic. He dropped the white sheet to the ground. His defined abs glowed in the moonlight and I couldn’t help but notice the short, springy hairs curling across his chest.

  Turning away, I needed to distract myself. I’d never worked out. How was I going to handle Tut’s power without Xander’s strength?

  “Awfully young to be out this late at night on your own.” The negotiator’s dull green pupils sharpened. “Where are you headed?”

  “Home.” I hoped. My heart burned with the need.

  These men didn’t have a place to call home. All they had were the clothes on their backs, a small fire, and the generosity of strangers. The five dollars I gave wouldn’t go far between the four of them. Even with all my troubles, I felt bad for them.

  Cold. Hungry. Helpless. I knew what it was like. The night was going to turn frigid and we’d just taken some of their clothes. Who knew what they’d actually spend the money on, but I could do something about the cold.

  I stepped next to the trash can and peered inside. Gray swirls of smoke rose from the crushed newspapers stuffed at the bottom of the can. A single tiny flame burned the edges of yesterday’s news. The flame flickered, almost going out.

  Using my power could harm me, cause me to die quicker. But what was the use of having power if I couldn’t help people? People who were helpless. Like I used to be.

  I thought about my current situation that was no fault of my own. I thought about Jeb’s treatment of Xander. I thought about Fitch’s many angry rages and threats. I thought about what could happen to Tina and Doug. I let those thoughts churn in my brain and burn in my chest, building my own anger and rage. My chest filled with heat and my throat burned. I didn’t know if this would work. Shielding myself from the men, I bent over the trash can and opened my mouth.

  Flames shot from between my lips. The newspapers ignited and flared.

  “Olivia!” Xander’s voice cautioned. He knew what using my power could do.

  Closing my mouth, I stepped back. Satisfaction oozed out in a smile. The fire would last most of the night.

  “Whoa!” the homeless man standing in only long underwear said.

  “It’s a miracle.” The guy who’d donated the T-shirt danced a jig.

  “Praise the Lord!” the man with the grizzled beard shouted.

  Praise King Tut.

  The tall, negotiator man said nothing. Even at a distance I could see his focus narrow. His gaze ran the length of my body. Contemplating. Assessing. Analyzing.

  Feeling like a prized animal, I shivered. “W-we should get going.”

  “Gentlemen, I’ve changed my mind. I’ll give you fifty more bucks,” the tall man announced, “if you try to grab her.”

  “What?” My heart jumped like it had been shocked. Probably because it had. I took a big step forward, ready to run.

  “If you’re going to stupidly waste my power…” He started tugging off his black leather gloves.

  Xander, who stood a bit away from the trash can, waved his hand telling me to move.

  Like I couldn’t figure that one out for myself.

  The homeless men lunged.

  “Eek!” I ducked.

  My shoulder came in
contact with the long underwear guy. A powerful current surged through my body. The guy fell to the ground. His body jerked and trembled on the cold concrete.

  “Sorry.” Twisting like a spiral curl, I dodged a second man, just barely missing his direct touch. My goal was to escape, not harm. They clearly didn’t understand the circumstances and we’re only trying to make some cash.

  The guy who’d given up his shirt reached out and grabbed my arm. His fingers wrapped around mefor a second before a jolt flashed through me. He jerked. His fingers loosened and he fell to the ground.

  “This way!” Xander stood by a narrow path into the woods.

  Remorse slugged like a championship boxer. The men didn’t know by touching me I could hurt them. I hoped they’d be okay.

  The tall man pushed one of the homeless men out of the way. He tripped on the man’s leg and fell to the ground. Not my fault this time. Gold flashed at his wrist.

  I had no time to take note of valuable items to pickpocket. Picking up speed, I rushed toward the trees. Xander held back the branches so I could slip into the woods. We ran fast to get away. It didn’t sound like anyone was following, but we kept up our pace, putting distance between us and the homeless men.

  The tall guy wearing what looked like a gold watch certainly wasn’t homeless. Was he one of Jeb’s Society people?

  And if so, why didn’t he know no one could touch me?

  Chapter Eight

  Xander

  Fifteen minutes later, Xander broke through the trees and onto a blacktop track that circled a large field. For once, Olivia was right behind him and letting him lead. He scratched through the fabric of the homeless person’s clothes. “These pants are itchy.”

  “Beggars can’t be choosers.” Her snark arrowed through his chest.

  He wasn’t a beggar. He was the Chosen One and trained to host a pharaoh. Stomping his feet on the pavement, he looked around for Society members or shelter.

  Bleachers were built into a small hill on the track and a couple of white goals stood sentinel at each of the ends. A partially deflated soccer ball sat on the edge of the grass field.