Part 18 (1/2)
”It doesn't. The priests I knew were gentle men of charity and hope. They couldn't kill things.”
”So what happened to you?”
”I witnessed the truth. Over and over and over again until I couldn't not kill them.”
The more I talked to this guy, the more I wondered just how random his showing up to save my a.s.s had been. I'd come to understand in the last few months that random just wasn't what it used to be.
”You saw the draugars in a dream?” He nodded. ”Did you see me?”
”No. I saw the cemetery and the Vikings. They were attacking a really big, colorful bird that shot fire from its wings.” He frowned. ”You see anything like that?”
I forced myself not to scratch the very itchy tattoo at my nape. ”Not me.”
”First I thought it was an actual nightmare. I have those sometimes. But the same dream kept returning night after night, and when that happens, I have to act or never find a moment's peace.” He tilted his head. ”I wonder what that weird bird was.”
”Maybe the girl's name was Robin.”
”This bird wasn't a robin. More like a-” He glanced at the sun. ”Thunderbird. That would make sense around here.”
”Because?”
”The Sioux say the thunderbird is huge and many-colored with the power of the storm and command of the rain. The flap of their wings is the thunder; the breeze created by the beat brings together the clouds, and when the thunderbird blinks the flash of its eyes is the lightning.”
Sounded pretty phoenix-y to me, but most cultures had their own version of every legend.
”In the old days the thunderbirds killed monsters,” Bram continued.
”Which means they weren't one.”
”Anything can become a monster if it chooses to be.”
Bram reminded me of Xander Whitelaw, who'd been a prophecy professor at an Indiana Bible college. Intelligent, knowledgeable, yet innocent in so many ways, nevertheless I'd sent him looking for clues about both the Key of Solomon and the Book of Samyaza. Big mistake.
He'd found the location of the key. Unfortunately, the Nephilim had found him. I still had nightmares.
The loss of Xander had been a big one. He'd known a lot and what he hadn't known, he'd been able to discover.
My gaze took in Bram's hard hands, bulging biceps, and collection of crosses. I didn't think he'd be killed as easily as Xander.
”You're sure you don't want to join the federation?” I asked.
”I'm sure.”
I wasn't willing to give up that easily. ”How'd you like to freelance?”
He lifted a brow. ”I'm listening.”
”Ever heard of the Key of Solomon?”
”I was a priest,” he said.
Which I took to mean yes.
”I need it.”
”There are copies all over the place.”
”The original.”
”That, there's only one of.”
”And the Book of Samyaza.”
Now his brows tilted downward as he frowned. ”It's real?”
”Wanna find out?”
Slowly, a half smile appeared. ”Actually, yeah.” He nodded thoughtfully and repeated, ”Yeah. I still have connections.”
”One more thing.”
I reached for his arm, but he pulled back. Instead of being hurt, I was glad. The less he trusted, the better. I didn't want to walk into a room someday and find pieces of him all over the place.
”If the Nephilim know you're searching for it-”
”They'll kill me. They try that all the time.”
”I was going to say 'they'll follow you.' If you find it, they'll kill you.”
”Then they'll take it and march all over the earth in glory,” he finished.
”I'd hate to see either of those things happen.”
”You and me both.”
I gave him my cell phone number and e-mail address. He did the same.
”Where you headed?” I asked.
”Where are you?” he countered.
I decided not to share. Bram might try to burn me for a witch if he heard I was raising ghosts.
”I'm not sure,” I said.
”Me either.”