Twin Flames (9 page)

I noticed more than one man flinch at my words. They knew I was right. They didn't recite any excuses to me. Their lives were mine to do with as I saw fit and it was justified. I looked at the men who lay all around me and wondered what had happened to the Order of Anat for her warriors to come to this. Where was their honor?
I fished in my pocket for my cell phone and dialed Elder Koller's number. Sasha, the elder's assistant, answered his phone. "I'm sorry but the elder is in a meeting right now."
"It's not even seven o'clock in the morning there. Please get him for me. It's important."
Sasha huffed in my ear. "He left express orders he's not to be disturbed. You'll have to call back later. He doesn't have any free time until late this afternoon if you'd like me to pencil you in."
"I won't call him back later." I hung up on Sasha. I was more than simply angry.
I looked at MacCuill. The Armani Man looked like he'd swallowed his tongue. He struggled against the power that held him. I couldn't, wouldn't let him go. The Magi were playing games and I was beginning to regard them as my enemy. This was a bold move on their part, which meant they didn't fear reprisal. He was a threat to me and mine. I wouldn't risk sending him away so he could come back later to try and steal again what was mine, but I didn't have the resources to keep him contained either.
For the first time in many years, I missed the warrior blade I used to carry at my side. I'd given it up years ago when I left Tribe Enkidu and Theo Sullivan. I'd been in no state to perform my duties as a warrior. Nathan had taken my blade, keeping it while I healed. I hadn't felt able to take up the sword or my duties again until that moment. I silently prayed to the God Shamash for guidance as I prepared to judge those in front of me. I held their fate in my hands and I couldn't see a way around the bloodshed that was coming.
Knowing my thoughts too well, Ushna stepped up and touched the small of my back. "There may be another way. If they were to swear an oath of fealty, they could be spared."
"Yes," Gregori agreed, "I can perform the Blood Oath of Ishara. None who swears this oath can betray you."
I looked into the stormy gray eyes of my friend. I never once doubted I could trust Gregori. As I regarded him, Gregori let me see his sorrow, his anger, his fear, and his resolve. He'd accept whatever choice I made. But I knew if anyone died here today, Gregori would blame himself for bringing MacCuill to my door. He would carry the recrimination for the death of these men with him for the rest of his days. They would be deaths by my judgment, and by my hand, but Gregori would believe he'd brought this trouble to my door, and he'd hold himself responsible what happened here.
"Gregori, what is the Blood Oath of Ishara?" I asked.
"It's an oath of fealty sealed with the blood of each participant. The person, or warrior in this case, who swears the oath would be bound to you, their prince, and they'll be branded with your mark. It will appear on their palm after they show their allegiance to you. You'll bear the tattoo of the warrior's flame which represents their soul. If you're ever betrayed by one who has sworn the Blood Oath, the tattoo representing their flame will immediately change, alerting you to their betrayal. The Blood Oath of Ishara is the most scared oath that can be given or received. No one should take it lightly."
I looked at the warriors, assessing them. I was quickly going down a road I didn't want, to a unknown destination. All I'd wanted was to be a rancher, with Ushna by my side as my partner. I hated that I was being pushed this way. But if it was where I had to go, it would be on my terms.
"Who would be bound to me?" I asked, my voice hard as steel. "Consider carefully for I won't accept anyone who's unwilling."
The Lycan in front of me knelt on both knees and pressed his forehead to the floor, "Siamak, I'll take the oath if you'll have me."
"What is your name, warrior?"
"Corey Bahar, Siamak," he said into the floor.
Suddenly I was tired and all I wanted was to crawl back into bed and start the day over. "Don't call me Siamak, Corey, for I'm not an emperor. I'm just Tristan."
"I could never presume to be so familiar, Sire. If I'm not to address you as Siamak then at least let me address you as a prince should be addressed, as Xenres Tristan."
I had a feeling Corey wouldn't budge from his view of propriety. "Fine, Corey, you can address me in the old tongue as Xenres Tristan or in the English translation as Prince Tristan in front of other Lycans only. The titles will only cause confusion outside of this house. In front of humans, you can call me sir if you're uncomfortable calling me Tristan. As such, you'll also address Ushna as Ushna al Mehrdad or as Royal Consort Ushna and my advisor as Gregori al Tallis. You're to give them the same respect you give to me. Am I understood?"
"I hear and obey," Corey intoned with reverence. I really hadn't needed that.
"Gregori, please take the oath of Corey Bahar, who's to be the Captain of the Royal Guard."
Gregori, in his grease stained T-shirt and ragged jeans, began to chant as he pulled a butterfly knife out of his pocket. With a couple of flicks of his wrist he had the knife locked into place and hovering over Corey's outstretched hand.
"Corey Bahar, do you swear fealty to Xenres Tristan Javed Ksathra Janick?" Gregori chanted in a lowpitched singsong voice. I could feel the power of the Magi swirl around him, charging his words and making them almost electric. The air began to have that ozone smell you get when a strong storm approaches.
"I do so swear fealty to Xenres Tristan Javed Ksathra Janick." Corey's sable eyes didn't waver from mine.
Gregori took the knife and drew it across Corey's index finger leaving a line of crimson-colored blood behind it, invoking the name of Ishara, the Goddess of Binding Promise, calling on the blood. "Prince Tristan Javed Ksathra Janick, do you accept this oath from Corey Bahar, Warrior of Anat?"
I raised my hand to Gregori without taking my eyes from the man who knelt before me. I swallowed reflexively, nervousness making my tongue feel thick as I said, "I, Prince Tristan Javed Ksathra Janick, accept the oath of fealty from Corey Bahar, Warrior of Anat, and I vow to protect him as he protects me."
Gregori looked at me sharply. The air seemed to snap with purpose. I felt sharp uncomfortable tingles on my exposed skin. The last wasn't a part of a normal fealty oath, but I wasn't going to take from these warriors without giving something to them in return. I would be worthy of their oath.
Gregori drew the knife over my outstretched index finger; dark black blood welled up in the wake of the knife, so different from the red blood on Corey's finger. Gregori continued to chant, invoking the name of the Ishara, the Goddess of Binding Promise, calling on the blood, a call to being, to oblige. Corey offered his bloodied finger to me. I took his finger into my mouth and suckled the blood from the tip as he did mine, sealing the oath and binding Corey to me.
Pain seared my back and the faint smell of burning flesh filled the room. I didn't flinch as the oath snapped into place, zapping my body with electricity. When I released Corey's finger, a healed scar marred the tip and his palm held the scarred brand of the black double helix snakes on his palm. When Corey released my finger it was still bleeding. It seemed the oath magic knew I had more to do this day.
Gregori repeated the ceremony for every warrior who asked for the oath. With each vow, I became more tired and my back more sore.
I'd forgotten about the twin snakes that had wrapped themselves around my arms. With an unnatural stillness, their heads lay on my shoulders, their yellow eyes scrutinizing everything. I was startled at the end of an oath when the snake on my right shoulder suddenly moved. It slithered off my arm and down my back to the floor right before there was a muffled protest and a loud booming concussion that battered my ears, deafening me.
Bodies tackled me to the floor, effectively pinning me. My mind caught up with the action as I smelled blood and heard a strangled scream.
"Who's hurt?" I called. I couldn't see anything. My hearing was shot. Everything sounded muffled and far away. "Let me up!"
Slowly the bodies began to move and hands grabbed me under the arms and hauled me to my feet. The first thing I saw was Gregori leaning over Ushna, who lay on the floor, bleeding. My vision narrowed and I stalked over to Ushna, vibrating with a primal, consuming rage.
"Who?" I roared, consumed with fury that someone would dare!
After all I'd done to keep Ushna safe, and he'd still been hurt. The warriors parted, revealing MacCuill on the floor. The snake wrapped around his neck, its poisonous fangs buried in the bastard's throat. A small black handgun lay next to him.
I was shocked. Magi didn't carry firearms or any other kind of weapon. They were Magi. They possessed magics they could use in defense. They didn't use magic to attack or wage war unless they were given express permission by the sovereign. The law had stiff penalties for those who abused the magic and used it to destroy. That this bastard had brought a gun into my house was cause for concern. Worse yet, I hadn't expected a threat beyond magic or sword arm and hadn't had MacCuill searched. I'd been confident in my abilities to keep him contained, I hadn't had him restrained.
The more I thought about MacCuill's purpose here the more outraged I became. Kidnapping Ushna, blackmailing Gregori, and the knowledge that the Magi would do anything to accomplish their goal to take Ushna from me made me wonder why. I couldn't come up with anything, and I struggled with a growing fury that threatened to take over and consume me.
I wanted to rip the man's arms off, kill him with my own hands, and I'd been denied. I desired retribution. I would have the satisfaction I craved and just the thought of what I planned to do caused me to bare my teeth in feral pleasure.
I turned to Gregori. He had torn Ushna's shirt open to look at the bullet wound in the upper right chest. I helped roll him onto his side, looked for an exit wound, and didn't find one.
"I can heal the wound, but I can't remove the bullet. He's going to need a doctor." Gregori watched me with worried eyes, his red hair coming loose from the braid to frame his pale face.
Enki, God of Fertility and Creation, created Enkidu the first of us. Enki formed our forefather from the Earth's soil, therefore endowing Lycans with an affinity with the earthen elements. They became masters in their fields, desired and sought out for their expertise. Glass blowers and sculptors who worked with sand and clay listened to the whispers, forming it into the shape it most desired. Stone masons who heeded the call when laying the stones created unparalleled strength and beauty in the finished product, whether it be a home, bridge, or a simple fireplace. Artisan jewel cutters shaped and designed unequaled pieces of fine jewelry from metal, precious stones, and gems. That was how the tribes had prospered for more than four thousand years, using their affinity for that from which they'd originated and returned to in their cycle of lives.
I was of royal blood, a direct descendant of Enkidu himself, and with that family bloodline, we were more than just Lycans. I'd barely paid heed to my history studies growing up. I was to be a warrior and what does a warrior need with history that doesn't include generals and battles? I wished I'd paid more attention because I was going to try something I vaguely remembered from those long-ago classes.
Royals had an extraordinary ability, more than an affinity with the Earth. They could call to the Earth in small ways, and in a manner, communicate with it. I was going to try to call the metal to me.
I was tired. Each oath had taken more and more strength from me and I hadn't had time to recuperate from the exchange. I needed to be able to summon a small piece of metal from Ushna's wound. It sounded simple but it was far from it.
I supplemented the weakened power that rested in my chest with the raw energy from my anger and the barely contained rage that was brewing within me against the Magi. I didn't know if it would be enough. I looked at Ushna's pale drawn face, his thickly curled eyelashes barely brushing the tops of his ash-colored cheeks. I wanted him to open his bi-colored eyes and look at me. In that moment I knew I'd make it enough.
I placed my cupped hands over the wound that still bled freely. I didn't touch Ushna, but allowed my hands to hover over the wound. I closed my eyes to help me focus and opened myself to the Earth.
At first I didn't hear anything. I worried I was wrong. I hadn't tried to listen to Earth since I was a child. It came slowly, the song of the Earth, moving up into me, rejoicing because it knew me. It had missed me. Rich soil, dusty sand, rock beds, and minerals, they all had a different voice, a different feel. Their life force was subtle but strong. I almost got caught and carried away until I heard the smaller tune beneath my hand, reminding me of my purpose.
I cocked my head, listening to the soft hum more closely, trying to understand what it was saying to me. I found myself singing back aloud, promising a new purpose if it would only to come to me, come to my hand, and let me reshape it. I'd carve out the beauty within.
I don't know how long I stayed, coaxing the small piece of metal to come to me. I felt my power and energy drain as I moved what felt like a mountain several inches until something within me popped and released. The place in my chest where the coiled power rested, bloomed. It grew bigger and wider until what had bound it broke, releasing it in a wave that burst from me. I convulsed with the shock wave and passed out.

I didn't think I'd ever felt this tired in my entire life. I felt something warm beneath me, rising and falling. Ushna. He was breathing, so that had to be a good thing. A warm, rough hand brushed my hair back, checked my pulse, and then cupped my cheek. I could barely drag my eyes open but I did, slowly. Gregori was looking at me, silver-gray eyes wide with awe and a little bit of fear.
"Damn it, Tristan, don't ever do that again. You almost killed yourself. Hold still and let me see if I can heal you."
Gregori didn't have to worry about me moving. I couldn't have budged an inch if I'd wanted to. He placed a large calloused hand over my forehead. I noticed there were traces of grease under his fingernails. His skin held hints of stringent, petroleum, and oranges. I felt his energy gently flow over me. His pale skin took on a golden glow, reflecting off his red hair, and giving the impression of the glimmering from a fire. The energy seemed to have a vibrating buzz. It was the same, but different, from the magic for the oaths. Instead of taking from me, it added to me until I wasn't struggling to hold my eyes open.
I became more aware of my surroundings. My face was on Ushna's chest in his slowly cooling blood. The room was unnaturally silent and when I lifted my heavy head to look at Ushna, I was swamped with dizziness. Helping hands clasped my arms to steady me. When the lightheadedness passed I opened my eyes. All around me the warriors kneeled, staring at me with expressions I refused to decipher. Corey was next to me, still holding my elbow.
I examined Ushna and blinked. The bullet wound had healed, leaving a pink puckered scar. Ushna's breath was coming in deep, even inhalations. His skin had lost the unhealthy pallor from just moments ago. I glanced up at Gregori to thank him and stopped when I noticed the look on his face.
Gregori had the appearance of utter awe as he inspected Ushna's healed wound. He reached out a rough hand and touched the furrowed mark before he looked up at me.
"What did you do?"
Stunned, I blinked at him a couple of times, "I sang to the metal. That's all."
Gregori emphatically shook his head. "No, you did more. I've never felt a wave of such raw magic before. You have done, in a few minutes, what normally would take me hours, Tristan. I've never seen or heard the like."
I remembered talking to the metal of the bullet, feeling its desire to be more, to be useful, to be something of beauty, and not a thing of destruction. I raised my fisted hand and slowly opened it to reveal a polished engraved ring. Etched into the soft metal were our names, entwined together in ancient Sumerian. It was beautiful. I'd fulfilled my promise and an object of destruction was now an elegant ring of promise.
I took the metal circle and gently placed it on Ushna's left ring finger.
"I'm sorry, my Prince," said Corey, "We weren't vigilant in guarding your safety today. I didn't have Caspian searched or have a guard placed on him. We weren't even aware that Caspian had broken the Alpha Bond. You were involved in the giving of oaths when Ushna al Mehrdad stepped between you and Caspian. I didn't realize until it was too late what Caspian had intended. As Captain of the Royal Guard, I take full responsibility for this failure. I accept any punishment you deem necessary as recompense for the injury to you and your consort."
I saw the truth in Corey's dark eyes. If I ordered him maimed, he'd accept it and do nothing to protect himself. But that's not the kind of man I was, nor if it came to it, not the kind of ruler I wanted to be, ever.
"The punishment has been served. MacCuill is dead. In the future we will need to be better prepared for deception or an attack. You and your men will have to be better than them, smarter and faster. Learn from today and keep it from happening again."
On impulse, because I felt the need, I pulled Corey's head to my shoulder, to comfort both him and myself. It seemed my tribe of two had multiplied.
My cell phone rang and I growled as I pulled it from my pocket. "What!"
"Tristan?" asked Elder Koller.
"Tell me about Caspian MacCuill," I snapped. I wasn't in the mood to tiptoe around anymore. Either the Council was ignorant of the move the Magi had made or they were complacent. Either way, they were a liability to me and mine.
"I don't understand, Tristan, what about Caspian?" The elder sounded confused but it was his name on the printout the warriors had.
"Your office issued a retrieval order for Ushna and when I tried to get a hold of you, you were unavailable." Okay, maybe sarcasm wasn't the best negotiating tool, but I'd just pulled a bullet out of my lover. Right now, they all could kiss my cowboy ass.
"What! No! What is going on?" The elder sounded decidedly panicked. Good.
"You tell me, Elder. Don't send anyone else out here without my authorization. I'll take it as an act of aggression from the Council if you do. I'm in no mood to be fucked with. Do you hear me?"
The elder exhaled into the phone, "I gave no such order, Tristan."
"I've documentation here that says differently. Get your house in order, Janus. I'll release to you the warriors who want to return to you."
"What? What warriors? For all that's holy, what's happened, Tristan?"
My voice was low and dangerous as I said, "I'm sitting in the blood of my lover, Councilman. If you send warriors or anyone else without my express permission, I'll kill them. I have no further mercy to give."
I snapped the phone shut, hanging up on the elder. Looking around at the warriors, my decision was made. "If you're not going to swear fealty to me, you're free to go. If you come back without my permission, I'll kill you. There will be no warning. Don't come into my territory. Leave my tribe alone. Do I make myself clear?" There were no questions. "Good. I need two volunteers to deliver a message to the order of the Magi. Somebody get me a wet rag so I can clean this blood off my face."