Nightwalker

by Jacquelyn Frank

  He loved her beyond reason.

  “I’m out of here,” Leo snapped angrily before getting up and walking into the house. There was nothing he could do about it. His friend would have to come to terms with his anger in his own time.

  He exchanged more words with Ram. They spoke of Kamenwati and their differing opinions on the man. Cordo held out more hope for the redeeming qualities of the man’s character than Ram did. Even so, it would be some time before he could fully trust him.

  Docia came out of the house next. His sister. He loved her. Her adorable face never failed to make him smile. This time was no exception. His dog, Sargent, came over and he scratched the canine behind the ears. He was surrounded by love and loyalty, and it felt good. As dangerous a time as they were living in, it felt good. He had never been happier.

  And then, just like that, the feeling was gone, replaced with a sense of dread and foreboding unlike anything he’d ever felt before. The beer bottle dropped to the floor and he was on his feet. He was shouting for Marissa. He had to get to her, to get her to safety.

  “Marissa!”

  He broke into a dead run, his long legs eating up ground. Not fast enough. Not fast enough! He ran up the drive for her and suddenly a crackling beam of energy came screaming out of the sky, cutting across his path, spewing up dirt and rock, and driving him to a halt. He looked up to the sky, searching for a target, but there was nothing there. Nothing yet something. Something deadly and dangerous beyond the pale. Another powerful bolt of energy, this one at his back. The message was clear. Move forward and die, move backward and die.

  Ram had come down off the porch and was running for him. He knew this because another bolt of energy came out of the sky and struck his friend square in the chest, sending him flying.

  Leo came running from the house and he shouted for him to stay back. Or at least he thought he did. Then Leo was firing something, a gun, in the direction the bolts came from.

  And just like that a woman appeared in the sky. A woman in white with long auburn hair. Blood began to stain the white of her clothing…bullet wounds. Leo had hit her. Hurt her.

  It was Odjit, the leader of the Templar Bodywalkers and the bane of his existences for reincarnation after reincarnation. Only, it wasn’t Odjit anymore. Odjit had been replaced by a god—the god of mischief and mayhem. Apep.

  “Very well,” she said to Leo. “If you wish to die first, I can oblige you.”

  “No!” Cordo cried, and then he felt power punching out of himself. His telekinetic power. He sent it ramming into Leo, shoving his friend out of the way as best he could.

  His actions drew the attention of the creature in the sky.

  “You are dangerous,” she said, her voice echoing all around him, battering down at him from all sides.

  He instinctively lashed out against her, calling on every bit of power he had. He shoved at her hard, a power that had ripped trees from the ground and moved them at will. And yet all it did was force her into a little mid-air tumble. That was when he knew just how powerless he was. It was when he knew there was nothing he could do to protect his best friend and the woman he loved. It was when he knew he was going to fail.

  “You,” she said again, “might be troublesome, given enough time. That thought makes us most unhappy.”

  “We know what you are,” Cordo said with virulent anger. “A two-bit monster calling itself a god. If you think we’re going to let you run amok in this world you have another—”

  “Silence!” Cordo’s adversary hissed. She flicked her hand, a discus of energy suddenly appearing in her fingers; she flung it at him. It all happened so quickly, the move lightning fast, the distance between her hand and his throat far too short. He threw up his hands in defense, but the disc whipped right through them and then straight through his neck.

  The pain was blinding; it felt as though something was ripping his souls right from his body. The agony was too much. He lost consciousness.

  Ceara saw her beloved husband get hit, watched him crumple to the ground as if his clothes were suddenly empty of their wearer. She screamed, the pain of loss suffocating, clawing through her.

  No! They had only just found each other again! This wasn’t possible! How could the world be so cruel to them? What had they done to deserve this?

  Leo was shooting at the woman. Good! Kill her! She deserves to die!

  Ceara went running forward, heedless of the danger it put her in. She needed Jackson! Needed to know he was still alive! It couldn’t end like this. It just couldn’t!

  All the while she ran, inhuman screams could be heard. They were her screams, she realized. They were coming from her. The screams of a woman losing her soul mate.

  She reached Jackson and fell to her knees, her hands clawing at his clothing as she dragged his head into her lap. Cradled him to her breast. She looked up for help. She saw a black-skinned woman throw up a barrier of some kind just in time to protect Leo from another one of those bolts of energy. The energy bounced off the shield and deflected back onto the god in the air, making the god scream in agony and fury.

  “You!” It reached out a shaking finger, pointing at the black woman whose electric blue wings were taut and tense. “You will pay for this meddling. These are not your affairs! Be warned!”

  And then the god disappeared.

  All else faded away. She screamed Jackson’s name over and over again, willing him to hear her. Willing him to awaken.

  He did neither.

  —

  Ceara came out of the memory with a gasp. She lifted her hand to her cheek and found it was wet with tears. Her whole body felt wrung out, the emotions she had felt still solid in her heart. She was having trouble breathing, having trouble separating herself from the emotions of the memory she had just shared.

  She realized everyone was looking down on her, including Cordo. He sat up beside her in the bed and his eyes looked haunted. He looked the way she felt.

  “This is a terrible thing,” she whispered to him.

  He nodded. He looked to Jackson. “How did you survive?”

  “With a lot of hard work,” he said grimly. “Next thing I knew I was waking up in a bed surrounded by my loved ones. Although, in between all of that, I felt like I was floating away. Like I no longer had anything to tether me to this plane of existence. The only thing that kept me here was…”

  He looked over at Marissa, love shining in his eyes. Marissa crossed the room and they met in a hard embrace. Ceara felt her throat tightening up once more with emotion.

  “We must tell our Chieftain of this,” Ceara said. “Of all of this. Including the beauty we have found here. You are not what we were told you were.”

  “What you were told we were?” Kamen echoed.

  “Once long ago we used to live in this civilized world. Our leader was called something else, a Tsar, and we would ally ourselves with other races for various reasons. In the end it brought us nothing but trouble, so centuries ago we absented ourselves from the world of Nightwalkers and the world of men. Now we live in peace and quiet and we will not have that changed. Our Tsar is now our Chieftain and he rules with the assistance of a ring of elders, of which Ceara and I are two.”

  “No one has had contact with your species of Nightwalkers for centuries,” Kamen said. “We had no way of knowing you had done this. No way of knowing the changes you have gone through.”

  “This is the way we preferred it to be,” Cordo said. “The elders of our people told us contact with the outer world was a dangerous thing. And you see that is the truth of it. Your own memories show that to be true.” He paused. “However, it is clear that this s a concern great enough for all of us to take heed of. I would have said this was just a Bodywalker problem, but the ease with which you were cut down…a man of such incredible power. The ineffectiveness of your best attack against the god…it must be noted. It must be heeded. If, as you say, Apep will not stop until he has destroyed us all, it must be heeded. We will go bac
k and tell our Chieftain what we have discovered. Then we will return and be liaison between our tribe and your court.”

  “Thank you,” Viève said with relief. That was one down, now one to go! If they got the Mysticals on board, then the Wraiths would follow.

  But no sooner did she have the thought than she realized that once that happened there would no longer be a reason for her to be here. She would be expected to leave.

  But she couldn’t leave yet. Not when so much had changed. She needed more time. She needed…she needed to feel what she was feeling for just a little while longer. She had been made to feel special for the first time in her life, and she didn’t want that to end.

  “I will bring you home and then back again,” Kamen said. “Are you prepared?”

  “We are.”

  Kamen turned to Viève. “You will be all right while I go?”

  His thoughtfulness made her throat tighten. He was looking out for her. No one ever looked out for her.

  She nodded to him even though everything inside of her was screaming not to let him out of her sight.

  He reached out, took the two Phoenixes’ hands, and disappeared from sight. That left Viève alone in the room with Marissa and Jackson, who seemed to be wrapped up in each other for the moment. Not wishing to intrude, she inched toward the door.

  “Viève.”

  She froze when Jackson spoke her name.

  “Yes?”

  “Stay a while. We wish to talk with you.”

  “Oh. Well…what could we possibly have to say to one another?” she asked with an uncomfortable laugh.

  “You can tell us about the Wraiths.”

  “Oh. Them.” She must have looked as disappointed as she sounded, because Marissa laughed.

  “You do not seem particularly impressed with your own people.”

  “They’re hardly my people,” she said as explanation.

  That made Marissa frown. “What does that mean? You are a Wraith aren’t you?”

  “Well yes. Mostly. Partly.”

  “Partly?”

  “I’m half Wraith, half human.”

  “Oh. But half is still enough, isn’t it?” Marissa said.

  “Depends on who you ask,” she muttered in reply.

  “I see. So some would say you aren’t Wraith enough?”

  Most. But she didn’t want them to think she wasn’t a proper representative of the Wraiths.

  “The Doyen thinks I’m Wraith enough for this assignment, and that is all that should matter.”

  “True,” Marisa said slowly. “But why do I feel like there’s more to this story?”

  “I wouldn’t know,” Viève said, trying for a careless shrug but ending up with little more than a hunched shoulder.

  “You know, before I was a Bodywalker, I was a psychiatrist,” Marissa said, moving away from Jackson and coming to take Viève under her arm. Viève stiffened at the contact, but didn’t want to seem rude so she allowed it. “If there is something you wish to talk about, I’m here to listen.”

  “No. There’s nothing,” Viève assured her. But she was grateful for the offer. It was a kindness and she had had very few in her lifetime. “But I’ll keep it in mind. In case something does come up. But I’m not anticipating anything will,” she added quickly.

  “All right. But I would like to talk about something, if that’s all right?” Marissa said.

  Viève was leery, but she said, “Oh?” It wasn’t often that people sought out conversation with her. She was a little rusty. She only hoped she didn’t do anything to embarrass her people. If she did and it got back to the Doyen…there was no telling what the punishment might be for something like that.

  “I want to discuss Kamen.”

  Viève blushed before she could stop herself and her hands flew up to cover her cheeks.

  “W-what about him?”

  Marissa exchanged a look with Jackson.

  “I just want you to be careful. You do not know the kind of man he is. Be certain you learn of him before you decide to trust him.”

  Anger instantly overcame her. How dare they talk ill of Kamen? He was bending over backward to put this peace accord together! Didn’t they see that?

  But Viève was not able to express her anger like others might. In fact, the emotion felt alien to her. She hadn’t experienced it in such a long time. She had grown so used to simply accepting things, then moving on to quietly live her life. When she grew frustrated, her only outlet was her gardening. Since there was nothing she could do about such emotions, she would simply weed or plant flowers until the feelings passed. It was hard not to find peace when working in the garden.

  “Is there something you are trying to tell me?” she asked directly. Perhaps if they explained why they felt the way they did…

  “Only that our experiences with Kamen throughout the ages have not been…in accord. Kamen is a Templar; we are Politic. The two have been enemies for quite a long while.”

  “But you work with him now?”

  “Yes. On the surface it appears that Kamen’s motives have changed. Whether it is actually true is something we are still waiting to discover.”

  “How long has he been here with you?”

  “The better part of a year,” Jackson said.

  And still this wasn’t enough for them to realize he was on their side now? What more did the man have to do? Perhaps that was why he was working so hard to obtain this peace. To prove to these people that his loyalties had changed.

  “Do you have reason to believe he is insincere?” she asked.

  “Only our experiences with him thus far. Kamen has sided against the body Politic quite resoundingly. He is deeply rooted in Templar ways. Do you remember the Gargoyles you met?”

  She nodded.

  “Ahnvil was forged by Kamen to be his slave.”

  This shocked her. Was this the thing he had been dreading her discovery of? Was this why he thought himself to be a bad man…a villain? Because he had created and owned slaves? But surely that had been some time ago!

  “So he was his slave up until a year ago?” she asked with dread and confusion.

  “No. Ahnvil obtained his freedom several hundred years ago. But for all we know there were others up until the moment he defected to our side,” Marissa said.

  “Why did he defect to your side?” she thought to ask.

  “Ah. I think that is something you need to ask him,” Marissa said.

  She would. She would ask him as soon as he returned.

  “Now enough talk of dreadful things,” Marissa said. “Let’s talk more about you.”

  “Me! There’s nothing interesting about me,” she demurred instantly.

  “Surely you’re mistaken. Tell us, what is it you do in the Wraith world?”

  “I don’t do anything. I’m really quite useless. I try to make myself useful, but I don’t often succeed.”

  “In what ways do you make yourself useful?”

  “I garden,” she said. “But it’s a trivial thing really. Anyone could do it.”

  “Gardening! I love to garden. Although gardening here in the Southwest is a very different affair than what I was used to in New York.”

  “New York! I always wanted to go to New York,” Viève said wistfully.

  “Where are you from?”

  “Iowa. My cell is in Iowa.”

  “Is that where the Doyen is?” Marissa asked.

  “Oh! No! The Doyen would never be part of such a small cell out in the middle of nowhere. Although, he does live in the middle of nowhere but not around the likes of me.”

  “The likes of you?”

  “Like I said, I’m a half-breed,” she said.

  It made perfect sense to her, Marissa realized. Being a half-breed somehow made her less than her brethren. But from what she could see, Viève was more than any Wraith Hatshepsut, her Bodywalker soul, had ever seen. Over the generations Hatshepsut had had more than one encounter with the Wraiths, none of them good. In
fact, one of Menes’s deaths had been due to a Wraith deathtouch. But that had been many years ago. She was giving Jackson a lot of credit though. She knew he was uncomfortable being around the Wraith because of that fact, but he was being as open as he could be when dealing with her. He had to be. They all had to be. Including the Wraiths. Things were only going to get worse from here on out. They had to get along or the consequences would be dire.

  If only they could break the curse. She knew Kamen and the Druid Bella were working day and night to find a solution, but Marissa feared it wouldn’t be enough. She feared having to relive moments like the one she had just relived in her memory. She feared that this time…this time she would lose Menes for good. Not just for another hundred years, but for good. Who knew what power this god had? What if he had the power to obliterate souls entirely? How would she ever go on without Menes?

  And Jackson would not be able to reincarnate. That part of him would be lost to the afterlife for good, his soul moving on, away from hers. Marissa loved Jackson. The separate soul that was Jackson and the separate soul that was Menes. She loved them both. She couldn’t imagine having to live without either one of them.

  Marissa wanted to go to Jackson, who was following behind them as they walked out into the hall, but she had to focus on the little Wraith.

  “Well, just so you know, there are a lot of half-breeds here, and they all fit right in. So you should do fine here. I guess in a way, Jackson and I are half-breeds too. Two different halves coming together to make a whole.”

  “I never thought about it like that.”

  “You should. There is not really anyone on this planet who is a pure blood. I’m sure if we look far enough into everyone’s past there’s a little bit of something somewhere that dilutes the blood.”

  “I find that hard to believe with Wraiths,” Viève said wryly. “We do have a distinctive look.”

  “Indeed you do. But someday you’ll have children and I’m sure they’ll look like full-bred Wraiths if their father happens to be a Wraith as well.”

  “Oh, that will never happen,” Viève said dismissively. “No Wraith male will ever mate with me and so I will never have a full Wraith’s child.”