But outside of himself and Odjit, he didn’t know of anyone else strong enough. Perhaps Tameri, Odjit’s powerful niece, but by his count she was only three weeks Blended. It would take much longer than that before Tameri’s power had grown to full strength. And that was the problem with the Blending. While it was different for everyone, whether it went easy or hard, it left them very vulnerable … and often didn’t reach full strength before they were hunted down and assassinated.

“Leave it to you,” Ahnvil growled at him, “to loose hell on earth with no regard for the long term. That’s the problem with you Templars. You’re impulsive, shortsighted, and selfish. You care nothing for anything besides your personal agendas.”

“Show me a single creature on this earth that does not crave. Show me one that will not go to great lengths to appease that craving, even if only to ignore it.”

Kamen spoke quietly. He was stating fact, not defending his position. It didn’t matter anymore what he felt, what he needed, or what he wanted. All that mattered was righting the wrong he had done. Oh, it could never make up for all the thousands of other wrongs he had committed throughout his many lives as he had allowed Odjit to put blinders on him so that all he could see was her. But not so much her as what she represented. He had been devoted to Odjit and the ideal he believed she stood for. To confess the ill in her would be to recognize the poison he himself had become by association.

He had only wanted unity. The scrolls decreed there must be unity among the Bodywalkers when Amun rose, or else he would be enraged and would punish them. Many scholars had found this on the most ancient papers in their vaults. Many believed that if there were unity then Amun would eagerly rise and bestow the afterlife on them. An end to this cursed living at last. All its violence, all its emotion, all its petty, scraping misery, all of it would be withdrawn from them and this time when they let go there would no longer be the agony of knowing they would have to do it all over again.

“Always with your justifications,” Ahnvil growled at him, his large body making the room seem even smaller as he restlessly paced the length of it. Kamen knew very well what the Gargoyle thought of him, and he supposed he knew what Ahnvil would do to him if ever given permission to do so by Menes.

“Just the same, Gargoyle. It’s just the same.”

“What are you talking about?” Ahnvil barked irritably.

Kamen gave him a look and all Ahnvil could think right then was that there was utter emptiness in the eyes he was looking in. Not soullessness as he often enjoyed accusing his maker of, but literally a chasm … a void where there was nothing that mattered any longer. Nothing worth mattering.

“The bullet. Or, if you like, your hands around my throat. Or, if it pleases you to gut me stem to stern.” Kamen drew a line down the front of his body, his finger brushing over bloodstained fabric. “Then as you like it. Death is death, whatever the method. Perhaps this time I will just stay in the Ether. I will wait there until Amun comes to us … and I will pray he will look at me and know all I ever wanted was for him to come for me and set me free. Don’t you see?” He leaned forward in his chair, “You can devise no torture for me Gargoyle, that I am not already suffering. Fate has done the job far better than you ever could.”

“Well you don’t mind if I try, do you?” Ahnvil sneered at him. “We all need our entertainments.”

“I think you are going to have your fill of blood and war before this is over, Gargoyle. It will drain you of your friends, your loved ones and maybe even your life. Direct your rage and lust for the fight toward Odjit and the demon-god born inside of her. Think you she was bad? Think you she was powerful?”

Kamenwati laughed, the lowest of punctuations. Ahnvil had to consciously stop the shiver that walked up his spine. He had never heard anything so dead … so empty. That was when he realized that the physical man before him was merely a manifestation. There was no longer any substance to the man Kamenwati was. The chill, however, was because he found himself actually looking for the man of fire, the zealot he had always attributed to Kamenwati’s makeup. It had been several generations now … about three hundred years since he had been Kamenwati’s pet dog. Back then the man had been deadly in an almost beautiful sort of way. Kamen did one thing very well. He preached … and he lived what he preached. He toiled to understand what the gods wanted of him, and fought for what he thought was right when he came to a conclusion.

Ahnvil shook himself. No! He would not feel sorry for this man! He would engage in no empathy! The bastard had enslaved him!

He also gave birth to you …

With a savage growl, Ahnvil stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him so hard that the wood cracked.

Kamen didn’t move. Didn’t react. He sat there, unraveling the centuries before himself, looking for all the things that had slipped past him … looking for how he had come so far from his own ideals. He didn’t blame Odjit. That would be too easy. He made no mistake about where blame belonged.

Now, all he could do was rectify at least one small corner of the hell he had wrought.

Until then, he simply sat, and breathed, and waited …

Chapter Seventeen

Some time later Jackson found himself sitting in a chair at Leo’s bedside, watching him while he slept and, Nané reassured him, healed. After she had healed him she had said he was doing very well, considering the trauma he had gone through. Nané did what she did very well, her innate healing ability allowing her to bring Leo much further along. But her skills were only so strong and she had tired quickly. He had given her his leave once he knew Leo was out of danger and no longer in any pain.

He needed to go to Kamen and rip some answers out of the son of a bitch. He needed to know, to know if this was his fault. Had they gone gunning for Leo to try to get to Jackson?? Did they pursue his friend after the altercation in the woods and then put him through this horror because of him?

And he was thinking of putting Marissa in this kind of danger?

“Oh god, Leo, she’s right. It’s insane to tell her I care for her one minute and then the next throw her in the middle of this train wreck our lives have become. But when I think of moving into the future without her by my side, it devastates me in a way I never thought I could feel for anyone other than you and Docia. It would cut my heart out if I lost either of you. You’re the closest thing Docia and I have to brother … hell, Docia even tells people you’re our brother when in casual conversation. It just doesn’t occur to her that you aren’t.”

And it wasn’t until that moment that he realized how much he had been missing Leo these past few weeks. Leo remembered nothing of the night Jackson had met death and reawakened as Menes’s host, so he hadn’t been able to discuss it with him. With his best friend and, yes, for all intents and purposes, his brother. And that had been hard. Keeping this secret, Jackson realized, had put Leo in jeopardy by not forewarning him he might have some dangers to face because of it.

“Jackson, please, stop.”

Jackson startled, standing up and swinging around to see Marissa standing in the doorway. He hadn’t even heard her, he who had this supernaturally acute hearing. He had been too wrapped up in his grief.

She moved over to him quickly, surprising him yet again when she wrapped her arms around him and hugged herself to him. His hands fell hesitantly on her shoulders. He wasn’t quite used to this affectionate, warm side of her. She had always been so professional and crisp. It was funny, but he’d once fantasized about her … doing just this. Coming over to him and hugging him and telling him it was going to be all right.

“You aren’t responsible for this,” she said, her voice whisper soft in his ear. “The evil that did this to him is responsible. Leo will know that, I suspect. He always struck me … well, I don’t know him personally, but he’s ex-military … a war veteran … so he knows.”

“Yes, but will he understand why I now have to make friends with that evil?”

She pulled back. “You think that man did this?”

“I … don’t know yet. I have to talk to him. And I have to talk to Leo.”

“So talk.” The gravelly command came from the bed and Jackson whipped around so fast he nearly pulled her off her feet. But he was reflexively holding her against him as he moved closer to the bed and leaned toward Leo.

“Dude, you look like shit,” Jackson said frankly.

“At least I have an excuse,” he said, chuckling gingerly. “What’s yours?” It was clear he was sore and uncomfortable, and when he moved to sit upright, Jackson instinctively wanted to tell him to relax and just lie down … but he knew the reaction he’d get from Leo and how he himself would behave if the tables were turned. Leo was going to come out fighting, rushing to get back to himself … to be something other than a victim.

Luckily there was a trained psychiatrist in the room.

“Mr. Alvarez,” she said sharply as she pulled away from Jackson. “You are far from well enough to bounce onto your feet and hit the ground running. Lay back down and heal,” she said, pointing to the bed authoritatively.

“You know, that would be more compelling if I hadn’t seen you snuggling with Officer Huggy Bear over here.” Leo nodded toward Jackson.

“Would it be more compelling if I sat on your chest?” Jackson bit out. The last thing he needed was Leo making her feel self-conscious, even if it was just a defense mechanism on his part.

“No but it would be if she did.” Leo chuckled again, finding himself genuinely funny. And Jackson had to admit, no one did a one liner or a pot shot better than Leo did.

“Behave yourself. Do what the doctor says,” Jackson said, reading the pain Leo was putting himself in by the white, tight lines around his lips and the clench of his jaw. “Besides, I need you to tell me what happened.”

“Fine. I’ll talk.” But Leo would be damned if he would do it lying down in a bed. He’d been strapped down long enough, now he needed to move. Then he needed to get his desert eagle and stick the muzzle right down the throat of the prick bastard that had done this to him. “It was that kid. From when Docia disappeared. The Down syndrome kid.”

“Andy?” Jackson was aghast with shock and horror as he remembered what Leo had looked like an hour ago.

That was when dizziness and his pal weakness paid Leo a visit, lecturing him about how much blood he’d lost. He gritted his teeth with anger, but stayed seated on the bed. He knew it wouldn’t do him any good to stand up only to end up back on the floor again.

“Yeah him. I turned my back on him because I thought he was harmless.” He laughed, full of wry self-recrimination. “He jumped me and … he’s a psychopath. A sadistic psychopath. I didn’t even think it was possible. But I should have known better than to turn my back on anyone. Won’t make that mistake twice, I’ll guarantee you. “

“Come on, Leo,” Marissa scolded. “Down syndrome children and adults are some of the sweetest and more beautiful souls walking this earth. And because of their distinctive features it’s like an instant trigger for us to not see them as a threat.” She shivered visibly, rubbing at her arms. “My god. That poor baby has that kind of evil subjugating him? Isn’t there any way you can get the Templar soul out?”

“Templar soul?” Leo echoed. “What the hell does that mean?”

“No,” Jackson answered her. “At least, not that we’ve discovered.” Then Jackson took a breath and said to Leo, “This is going to take a little bit of explanation.”

“Holy shit,” was Leo’s response after a long minute of sitting in stunned silence. “You know, normally I would have called you insane for a story like that and rung up the crazy police to come get you,” he said, his resignation evident in his tone. “But the truth is, after what I’ve just seen and experienced, I’m a believer.” The last part came out of him in a bitter tone.

“I’m sorry, Leo,” Marissa heard him say softly. “Leo I’m so goddamn sorry I put you in the middle of this. I think they were trying to get information on me; kidnapping you with the hope I’d beat the bushes frantically in a search for you and give myself away. I should have warned you. I should have confided in you.”

“Listen, hotshot, before you start beating yourself up, I don’t think that’s why they came after me. I can tell you with a huge amount of certainty that this was revenge motivated. The South African prick that dragged me out of there told me as much.” His mouth went tight around the edges. “And as much as I would love his head on a plate … it sounds like a better tactical advantage to keep him alive … for now anyway. No, I’m far more interested in dealing with that little f**k who holds the real Andy a prisoner in his own body.”