Calling the Wild Page 25

  Kiron, who’d made a study of not looking at the woman, slowly turned to face her. Stick Girl paled slightly, then looked at the list.

  “Shh, baby, she didn’t mean it, she’s just teasing,” Moira whispered loudly. “Maybe if you give her an autograph…”

  Out of the corner of her eye, Moira watched the stick look at the list, then back up at Kiron. One wavy lock fell forward, curving over his cheek, and Moira brushed it back.

  Stick Girl was screwed. If she asked their names it meant she didn’t recognize Kiron, and her whole job was giving VIPs the VIP treatment. The velvet rope lifted, and Kiron urged Moira through, declining to look at Stick Girl again. Moira smiled at her, not wanted to completely freak the poor girl out, and then headed into the club with Kiron.

  The inside was decorated like the museum replica of Tut’s tomb. Moira tensed, afraid that the still unexplained voices would return, but the noise that assaulted her was the heavy bass of Madison Avenue’s “Don’t Call Me Baby”.

  The floors were a deep caramel color, lit from below by in-floor lighting around the bottom of the walls. Exaggerated hieroglyphs were stamped into the walls, and the lighting deepened the shadows in the symbols. Benevolent hieroglyphs of leaves and birds looked threatening, as if they spelled out the curse the club was named for.

  The floor was laminate—flecks of black over the caramel made to look like sand. Huge turquoise, gold and red falcons held up the chandeliers. A long section of tables, all black with gold chairs, was separated from the rest of the club by a curved railing. Another plush seating area, this one with its own bouncer, had soft black leather couches and its own mini bar.

  But the majority of the club was taken up by the dance floor and the main bar. The bar was black, with a glass inset. Papyri and fake archeologist notes were layered between the wood and glass.

  There was one empty stool at the bar, and they beelined for it, Moira sliding into it while Kiron stood at her back, pressed tight against her so he wouldn’t block traffic. It took a while, but eventually a smiling young man made his way over.

  “What can I get you folks?”

  “I’ll take the bartender’s special,” Moira replied, smiling.

  His friendly grin widened, his cheeks plumping up, white teeth flashing in the low light, a lovely contrast to his deep brown skin. “Every drink is special.”

  “But I know you have something extra special, don’t you?” Moira let her smile turn flirtatious. He responded, giving her lovely breasts the attention they deserved, but the smile faded when he looked at Kiron behind her.

  “How about the Pharos’s Curse? It’s a shot I invented.”

  “We’ll take two.”

  “Perfect.”

  Moira watched as he moved away to pull bottles from beneath the bar, swirling them on his palm, pouring with a virtuoso’s assurance. Tapping an upside down glass into place on the metal shaker, he mixed their drinks and then poured them into extra large shot glasses, printed with the Luxor logo.

  The bartender pushed them across the bar and smiled. Moira took hers as Kiron reached over her shoulder to do the same.

  Moira knocked it back, a dark citrusy mix that was quite good, and thanked him.

  “Thank you, Danny.”

  His smile faltered, “You’re welcome. You here last night?”

  “No. We have mutual friends.”

  “Oh? Who?” The way his voice dripped with suspicion made Moira wonder if Drak’s claim of “friendship” was real.

  “It doesn’t matter, but my friend did tell me that you were the person to talk to if I needed some information.”

  “Information can be dangerous.”

  “Not if you are well protected.” Moira ran her hand down Kiron’s forearm, which was planted on the bar beside her.

  Danny looked at Kiron, then to her and nodded. “I’ll come back.”

  He moved away to take care of those poor souls who were facing an empty glass. Kiron planted his other hand on the other side of her, caging her to the bar, and leaned low to whisper in her ear.

  “How did you know it was him?”

  Moira twisted in her seat and looked at him, trying to raise one eyebrow in an impression of him, but raised them both, which probably left her looking surprised. “The other bartenders are both girls.”

  “Ah, I had not noticed.”

  “I’m surprised. One of them is wearing a shirt that covers less than my bra.”

  “I do not care to look at any woman but you.”

  If he were a normal guy she’d say it was a line, but his comment was simply a statement, the truth.

  “You’re going to spoil me,” she whispered.

  “Spoil you. How?”

  “No one I’ve ever known treats me the way you do.”

  “Then you need to stay with me.” The sunglasses hid his eyes, and she reached out and pulled them off. His face looked naked and vulnerable without them, and the intensity in his eyes, the strength of his desire, took her breath away.

  “Hey.”

  Moira cupped his cheek, wondering if he meant what he said, and wondering if he would still mean it if she told him everything.

  “Hey, lady.”

  Moira turned back to Danny, who’d returned to their section of the bar.

  “Sorry, Danny.”

  “I have a fifteen minute break in a half hour, meet me there.” He pointed to a door that said “staff only”.

  “I’ll see you in half an hour, thank you, Danny.”

  She vacated the stool to let other people have a shot at the bar, while Kiron tossed some bills on the bar, and they made their way to the dance floor. One song morphed into the next, the beat never dying in the hands as the skilled DJ Gigi’s “I’ll Fly With You” pumped out of the speakers, the strong back beat of the rich techno song layered with a faster beast so the dancers had their choice.

  Moira pulled Kiron deep into the center of the press, keeping his hands in hers. Tipping her head she remained still for a moment, letting the music drive her forward, tipping her hips side to side, her weight in her thighs so she could rock her hips in time with the beat, her hands coming over her head, right hands caressing down her left arm as the female vocals kicked in.

  Kiron stepped up, pressing his hips to hers, their pelvises nearly even because of her heels. His hips rotated with hers, his hands at her back, supporting her as she ran her hands over her own breasts and then up his chest to dip under his collar and caress his neck. The chorus of the song hit, and Kiron took one of her hands in his, spinning her out.

  Some long-ago dance lessons kicked in, and Mira finished the turn with a flourish. Breaking away from Kiron, she pressed her hands flat to her belly, legs together, and rolled her hips in a belly dancer’s roll.

  Kiron was moving to the music, but the way he focused on her made her think that it was instinctive moving to the beat rather than a conscious effort to dance. She felt like the most beautiful and sexual woman in the world. His glasses were off, and Moira neither remembered nor cared what she’d done with them. She wanted to see him, to see those disquieting black eyes. The glasses and his human form made him look human, made him look like others she had know, but she wanted him to be different, wanted him to be what he was—The Wild.

  She came out of the hip roll and stalked towards him, feet coming directly in front of each other on the beat.

  When she was close he snatched her, dragging her to his chest, their bodies moving in sync.

  That song faded into another, one with a vaguely salsa beat, and Moira pushed away from Kiron in a cha-cha. He surprised her with a few moves of his own as they continued to dance.

  Moira thought about what he’d said at the bar. She didn’t doubt that he meant it—he didn’t say things he didn’t mean—but she wondered what exactly he meant by “stay with me”. Did he mean stay with him now? Forever?

  They continued to dance, their bodies saying things their hearts would not admit. She and another girl
partook in a little girl-on-girl dancing, causing their respective men to stop and watch, until the blonde she was dancing with was snatched away by her partner, who dragged her to a wall to make out.

  Moira had been counting the songs, and when the fifth one came on she pulled Kiron off the dance floor. He started to back her up again a decorative obelisk, but Moira pressed a hand to his chest and rolled her eyes.

  “I didn’t bring you here to make out.”

  “Then why did we stop dancing?” He ran his palm down her side, sliding from fabric to the soft velvet of her thigh, and back up, this time under her skirt.

  “Hands off. It’s been half an hour, I need to meet Danny, or have you forgotten about the life-or-death quest we’re on?”

  “What is life or death…is that dress.” His hand slipped around her thigh, his long fingers curing to the inside, dangerously close to sensitive flesh. Moira’s focus scattered.

  “Well.” Moira sucked her lower lip and slowly let it slip out between her teeth. “Technically it is your dress, you bought it.”

  “In that case, I’m going to need it, right now.” Kiron hooked his finger in the center of the neckline and tugged.

  “But I like the dress, isn’t there something,” Moira walked her fingers up the center of his shirt, “I could do to convince you to let me keep it?”

  Kiron smiled and his fingers brushed her thong. Moira leaned away, accidentally smacking the back of her head into the obelisk.

  “Ouch!”

  Kiron took his hand from her cleavage and cupped her head.

  “Are you hurt?”

  “No.” Moira reached under his hand to rub the spot. The crack was actually a good thing, as Moira remembered what they were supposed to be doing.

  “You are not helpful. We’re supposed to be meeting Danny.”

  “We can still meet him.”

  “No thanks to you.”

  “It is not my fault. It’s that dress.” The plaintive note in his voice had Moira smiling as she detached his hand from her leg, something he didn’t seem inclined to do.

  They headed for the staff-only door, but Danny met them halfway there.

  Moira turned to him with a smile, but the young man’s face was serious.

  “We need to have a private conversation, but we’re not supposed to take patrons there.”

  “Is there somewhere else we can go?”

  “No. I can take you there, just you.”

  Kiron tensed, and Moira laid a hand on his arm. “I thought you said you could not take people there.”

  “They sometimes let it go if they think you are taking people there to have sex. Stress relief and all that, better employee moral.”

  “So you can take me there without any problems, because they will think we are having sex?”

  “Yeah.”

  “This is not safe,” Kiron rumbled at her back.

  “It’ll be okay, I think I can take him.” She stroked his forearm, stroked the cuff hidden under his shirt. “Stay close.”

  Moira nodded at Danny and walked with him to the employee-only door. They stopped at the door, and Danny looked at her askance.

  “Just do it.”

  Taking that as permission, the young man grabbed her ass, holding it long enough that several employees were sure to get a good look. There was a rumbling in her chest, and it took Moira moment to identify it as Kiron’s growl, trembling through the spell.

  Danny opened the door, and let Moira in. He took a knotted tie from a nail just inside the door and slipped it over the outer doorknob.

  When he closed the door Moira could see a faint deepening of color in the skin over his cheeks. Though they were probably the same age, Moira felt old in comparison.

  “Do Not Disturb Tie. I had one of those in college,” she joked.

  Danny nodded, but didn’t look up. Moira frowned. Why wasn’t he looking at her?

  He motioned her over to a small kitchenette table. The room they were in was arranged as little apartment, complete with galley kitchen and bunk beds.

  They sat at the little table, and Danny reached for a piece of paper. As he unfolded it, it brushed against Moira’s arm.

  May the goddess raise me, and lift me up. Let me ascend into heaven, let that which I command be performed—

  The words and voices crashed down around her, like a punishing waterfall of sound in her brain.

  “So it’s true.”

  I take my seat upon the place by the side of the great wind of heaven.

  Danny moved the paper, a simple printout of a papyrus scene showing the weighing of a heart, away from her arm, and sanity returned. Moira gasped for air, and with the next breath, reached across the table, grabbing for Danny’s neck. He darted away, moving faster than human speed.

  “Please, My Lady, I just wanted to know if it was true.”

  “If what was true?”

  “If you were the Destroyer, the Sun Goddess—”

  “Shut up,” her voice was harsh, like a slap, but she was desperate to stop his words.

  “Yes, My Lady.”

  Danny bowed his head, but not before risking a glance at the wall. Moira pushed out of her chair, slightly unsteady on trembling legs, and made her way to the poster he’d glanced at.

  The room was lined with posters depicting the Egyptian pantheon. The one Danny had glanced at showed a seated woman with the head of a lion. The caption depicting the statue’s inscription read:

  The good god, the lord of action, Neb-Ma’at-Ra, Beloved of Sekhmet, the Mistress of Dread, who gives life eternally. The son of the God Ra of His own body, Amenhotep, ruler of Thebes, Beloved of Sekhmet, the Mistress of Dread, Who gives life eternally.

  Moira pressed her fingers to the words, and an image flowered in her mind. A kneeling king, wearing the double crown, raised his hands to the sky, invoking the goddess’s protection. Her protection.

  “No,” she whispered, backing away from the poster. She tried to ignore the text on the poster that described the role of the Goddess Sekhmet. Destruction, associated with war…sent to slaughter mankind…

  Moira backed into the center of the room, panic swelling in her chest, each breath coming with difficulty. Deep in her belly the spell she’d cast long ago shivered, the thing the spell contained stretching awake. She needed to get out of here, needed Kiron.

  “You’ve come for the amulet?”

  Moira turned to Danny. She’d forgotten he was there. When she didn’t answer he stumbled on, her silence unnerving him.

  “It’s here, in the tomb replica, in the sarcophagus. There’s a hidden hall between Curse and the museum, through a door behind the DJ stand. She said you would come, said that if you did I should let you have the amulet.”

  “Who, who said that?” Moira’s panic rose anew, terrified this young man was working for her enemies.

  “The troll. I don’t know her name.”

  The troll, the one who had divided the books, scattered the pieces of the puzzle across the country.

  Moira started backing towards the door. She didn’t know what Danny was, but she knew he wasn’t human, and didn’t want to take her eyes off him. His next action stopped her in her tracks.

  Danny lowered himself to his knees, then bent forward, pressing him forehead to the floor, arms stretched out before him in totally supplication.

  “I offer you my life, my Queen.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Moira ran. She ran from the unwanted truths she’d found in that room, ran from the inevitability of her fate.

  Moira ripped open the door to the staff apartment and scanned for Kiron. When she spotted him he was talking with a slender, towheaded man who moved away as Moira approached.

  She threw herself against him, needing to feel his arms around her.

  “Moira?” His hands slid to her shoulders, cupping them.

  “I know where it is, but, but I think we need to leave.”

  “What is wrong?”

 
“I can’t stay here. I can’t stay in this building.”

  “Why?”

  “There’s evil here, trust me. Now please. We must go.”

  “Good and evil do not exist.”

  Cheek to his chest, Moira slowly opened her eyes. “That is the second time you’ve said that to me.”

  “It is true.”

  “Why don’t good and evil exist?”

  “Evil is the name given to dark powers, but you should not be afraid of dark powers, you should embrace them.”

  Carefully planting her hands on Kiron’s chest, she pushed away. His hands fell from her shoulders.

  “There was another man who told me that once.”

  “A wise man.”

  “No,” Moira said slowly. “A man who’d been bespelled by my enemies.”

  Kiron didn’t respond, his eyes dull and unreadable.

  “Before, you said there was no good and evil, only power, and power that needed to be used with caution. You were willing to kill me to stop me from misusing power, and now you tell me to embrace it?”

  “Yes. Embrace it, embrace your destiny.”

  A sob caught it Moira’s throat. “You…you are not Kiron.”

  His face hardened. Moira turned to run. Rough hands grabbed her hips, dragging her backwards, her impractical shoes going out from under her. Her breath escaped her in a rush when his arm slammed across her middle, holding her tight to his body.

  “Do not fight.”

  “Kiron, please, let me go.”

  Moira struggled, her panic keeping her from fighting smart. She could get away, she had the magic to do it, but panic and old fear choked her. She struggled to forget what had happened before, but the memories were there.

  Instead of Kiron, it was a lean poet, her college boyfriend. They’d been living together when Moira had first noticed she was being followed. He’d stood by her side as she tried to confront and understand what was going on.

  When his behavior became odd, she thought he was simply growing tired of the constant drama of living with her. She’d dropped her guard, focusing her attention on saving their relationship.

  She’d never thought to protect him magically, and so, on the night of her betrayal, when he rolled over in bed, his hands stroking her for the first time in a long time, Moira had been filled with happiness.