Chapter Four

Math

Math waited in a coffee shop on Castro Street near the pawn shop. He breathed in the sharp smell of coffee. It was nothing like the hot drinks from his time period, which tended to be strong in taste and in fermented alcohol. He didn’t miss the drinks or the food, or the food poisoning that came with both.

He tapped on his cellphone while trying to avoid the rips in the vinyl seats in the booth. Piper was late. He’d memorized her number so he could call, except she didn’t know that. He jiggled his legs, trying to shake out his impatience. For the waiting. For seeing her again. Shaking his legs harder, he pushed down the last thought. Piper was part of his mission. He wouldn’t let attraction distract him. The vulnerability covered by toughness. The softness in her eyes she probably didn’t want people to recognize.

Knowing her relationship to the pawn shop owner, he’d been surprised she’d called. He thought he’d have to do the calling which would’ve been a totally out of his world experience. Then again, most things in this world were out of his experience.

He wasn’t supposed to know anything about her. He’d already messed up during their first encounter, calling it her uncle’s shop. He was supposed to be playing dumb, which was hard to do for a guy with his intelligence.

Math was not short for Matthew. It was a name the other Warriors had given him because of his unusual understanding of math and science. He hated the name, wanted to be recognized as a strong Warrior, not just a brainiac. Retrieving Tut’s silver trumpet was his first quest as a Warrior fighting for goodness and light and love.

The other Warriors had teased him about getting an easy assignment, making him feel unworthy of the Warrior title. How dangerous could a trumpet of peace be? Falcon had come with him to retrieve the trumpet the first time. If he could bring in the silver trumpet on his own and using his brawn, he’d be given other assignments, more dangerous and physically demanding missions. Except he’d already missed two opportunities to recover the trumpet. He had to make sure the third time was a success.

Piper slipped into the booth opposite him. She wore all black. Her shoulder-length hair appeared to have been hacked by a knife and the maroon-colored dye clashed with her dusty-colored skin.

Yet, something drew him to her. He couldn’t name it—another unusual thing about her.

“Where’s the other guy?” Her question shot him with a jealousy arrow. Obviously, she was more interested in Falcon.

The arrow splintered into resentment, hardening Math’s heart. “Falcon’s busy following another lead.”

“On the silver trumpet?” Her dark eyebrows—not dyed—rose, the right one hiding beneath the side bangs.

The skin on her arms and face were smooth. The jolt of healing power Math had sent into her skin yesterday had helped. He didn’t buy the broken mirror story, something more sinister had happened. Her thumb appeared straight and not swollen. His protective instincts rose and so did his surprise. He wanted to fight her battles. The internal admission caused his pulse to race.

He couldn’t fight anything for her. He had his own quest.

“No. Something else.” He planned to tell her little. This wasn’t going to be a partnership like she’d suggested on the phone. He needed to know what she knew, and then end their alliance.

They both ordered sodas from the waitress. While waiting, Piper fiddled with the small jukebox sitting on the table. The old-fashioned music machine actually held the latest songs.

“There.” She punched one of the buttons and music streamed around their table, making the scene more intimate. “My favorite song.”

The fact her favorite was an upbeat pop song confounded him. It didn’t go along with her sharp hair and sharper attitude. As if all her edges, inside and out, were carved to a point. He examined the music machine, taking in the song selection, buttons, and coin drop. Formulas formed in his head about how the machine worked and what she’d done didn’t compute.

His brain whirred. Curiosity a constant companion. “Doesn’t the machine need money?”

Her bow-shaped mouth teased into a mischievous grin, and her deep-brown eyes lit with a secret.

The waitress set two sodas on the table.

Piper took a sip and set down the cup. “Let’s get started.”

She wasn’t going to answer his question. He’d have to research these music machines and figure out how she got it to work without a coin. That wasn’t important now. It wasn’t why he was here.

“Tell me everything you know. How did your uncle come into possession of the trumpet? Who was he supposed to give or sell it to? Did you recognize the men who stole the instrument?” His curiosity and impatience showed in his list of questions. He wanted to get on with his quest because sitting in a coffee shop wouldn’t prove anything to his brothers.

She leaned back in the booth. Her expressive eyebrows flew up again. “How did you know the trumpet was stolen?”

Super sarcophagus. He wasn’t supposed to know the trumpet was stolen. Something about Piper scattered his brains. He needed to get the information and get away from her chocolatey-brown eyes and sensual smile. How should he play this?

“It was obvious from your uncle’s messy office. The papers on the floor, the smashed items.” Good thing he had a photographic memory.

She nodded her head slowly, indicating her thought processes were at work. “Two men stole the trumpet. They were in the office when I arrived. I have a video on my phone.”

“Groovy.”

Her head jerked, and she stared at him as if he was from another planet, not just another century.

Wrong decade, Math.

Shrugging, he waved a hand around. “This coffee shop is soooo nineteen-seventies.” And now he sounded like he was from the nineteen-eighties. He really needed to watch more current television shows.

Her narrowed gaze stayed glued to him. He tried not to fidget or shift or look uncomfortable while she judged, even though sweat poured from his pits. He wasn’t an actor and he hated lying. He’d researched her and her uncle’s background. Low-life Uncle Louie had a rap sheet as long as a rolled parchment. A San Francisco police officer and friend of the Warriors had given him the information.

Information about Piper was harder to find. She didn’t attend any local schools. There was no birth record, or doctor or hospital visits recorded. Either she’d been the healthiest kid in the world, or everything had been done under the table. She didn’t even have an official address. Math assumed she lived with her uncle.

He could handle calculated guesses or theories based on fact. He hated assumptions. She became a larger curiosity than the music machine. A puzzle he couldn’t take the time to figure out.

“I’ll come sit over there to show you the video.” She slid from her seat and moved to sit next to him on his side of the booth. “Excuse me?”

“Yeah, right.” Shaking himself out of his stupor, he slid farther into the corner, feeling boxed in by her body and her fragrant scent of lotus oil. Did he smell bad from nervous sweat?

Sucking in another whiff of her scent—for scientific reasons—he analyzed the smell. The lotus flower symbolized creation and rebirth. Why would a modern-day girl smell similar to an ancient Egyptian flower?

She opened the app on her phone.

The scent wove around him, entrapping him and reminding him of the plant’s ability to flower and fruit at the same time. Piper seemed amazing like that. Her warmth invigorated his skin. He should move away, except he wanted to move closer. His confusion about her multiplied to the nth degree.

“That’s it.” She closed the app.

He’d missed the entire video because he’d been distracted. Disgusted with himself, his voice came out harsh. “Play it again.”

“Sure.” Studying him, she hit the play button.

The screech of the trumpet was heard first. A close-up of her uncle falling asleep in the chair. The screeching sound scraped his brain, causing shivers down his spine. He’d seen the effects of the war trumpet on Falcon, seen the pain he suffered.

“Who’s playing the trumpet?” Math hoped the peace trumpet didn’t cause the player as much torture as the war trumpet.

“One of the thieves.” She paused the video and pointed at a mark on the player’s neck. “Do you see this?”

“Yes.”

“That is the mark of this organization my uncle conducts business with.” She sounded stiff and formal.

How much did she know about her uncle’s deals with the Magical Order of Crucis? Was she involved? He wanted to know more about her, and yet he was afraid of the answers. If she was involved with the Order, she was sinister.

“Do you think someone from this organization stole the trumpet?”

She stared at the phone screen avoiding eye contact. “Yes.”

“Do you know the name of the organization?” He believed she had to know the name and possibly some of what they were involved in.

“It’s a religious order in the south bay called the Order of Crucis.” Her mouth puckered in distaste and he wanted to taste the sourness.

What the pyramids was he thinking?

“I searched my uncle’s paperwork and found the address. They are based out of a museum.”

All things Math knew. His constant companion of curiosity poked and prodded. If she worked for, or was loyal to her uncle, why was she sharing this information? He’d need to ponder the thought more. Why did she really call? His heart pattered. Could she be attracted to him?

“Wasn’t your uncle selling it to that organization?” He reasoned through the situation because it was more important than Piper’s motivation, although his heart would rather puzzle her out.

Use your brain to focus on the trumpet, not your heart to think about Piper.

If Uncle Louie was the middleman for the Order, why would they steal the trumpet? Math’s original premise that the Order was having the trumpet shipped from Egypt to fulfill a prophecy might not be correct. Maybe Uncle Louie worked for both the Order and the Society of Aten. The two Egyptian sects were in competition for members and money. Math would text Olivia and Xander at the Warrior’s new academy with this conflicting information. They could work their sources and find out more.

Grazing Piper’s hand, Math put the video back in motion. He ignored the cascading tingles from her touch. “What’re you doing while the trumpet is playing?”

“Standing by the door to my uncle’s office, peering inside.”

Jerking, he studied her. Why hadn’t she fallen asleep if the trumpet was being played? Only a few people knew the secret for resisting the trumpet’s draw. He forced his gaze back to the video, his mind jumbled.

“But I…um…fell asleep or something. You’ll see in the video.” She pushed the non-truth at him.

She was lying. Why? Piper was a bigger mystery than the missing trumpet. She had no history and was associated with her uncle who dealt with the Order, one of Math’s major enemies. She smelled like ancient Egypt. And she wasn’t affected by the trumpet.

He continued to watch the video, his thoughts structuring in his mind.

A side view of two men, one of whom played the trumpet. One of the men talked as they veered toward the camera. The camera angle changed.

“What happened here?”

The crinkles on her forehead smoothed. “This is where I fell asleep like everyone else. I woke up lying on the ground.” Her flat tone held no inflection.

Lying.

He could read her as easy as hieroglyphics. Did she know about the trumpet’s powers? Had her uncle suspected something? “Good thing the camera stayed face up.”

“Yeah, good thing.” She clicked off the video and scooted away. “When I woke, I rushed to the front door. The thieves were gone.”

He mulled his options. The video was real, her statements false. His plan to get the information and leave might not work. He believed in keeping his enemies close. Was Piper his enemy? He couldn’t tell yet and would be disappointed if she was. “Why did you decide to help?”

He watched her expression changing. She hadn’t expected the question from the stiffness around her lips or the sudden coldness in her eyes. Wariness set in his bones. Between her truths and her lies, and her scent and her smile, he felt at a total loss. Which didn’t happen very often. He didn’t enjoy the confusion she stirred.

Piper firmed her mouth and her shoulders as if preparing for war. “The thieves took something else. Something of my mother’s.”