THE DEMON'S LEGACY

Chapter 7

Nyssa set aside the book she was reading and watched Ra'id Tahan meander through the bazaar, making his way inevitably to her mother's stall. He was built tall and strong, like a fortress rampart, his hair black and wavy, long but clean and kempt. There was vanity in his neatness. She had noted it when they first met during her last visit to see her mother a year ago. He had made a play for her, and she might have bitten except that she had been married at the time. Not that she had been interested in anything significant, merely a good fuck; at the time, she and her husband had been fighting regularly, so sex had gone by the wayside. She had grown hungry, and Tahan at least was easy on the eyes. A soldier of one sort or another since able to hold a gun—or so he had bragged—he had a body that would attract most women. And since yesterday, after Nyssa's curiosity had been stirred by little Henri from the palace, she had been hoping to see Tahan. He worked for Nashir El Fadil, so he was her best hope for answers.

When Ra'id finally reached her, Nyssa made sure she offered a sultry smile. "Ra'id Tahan wandering through a bazaar, yet he's bought nothing."

He grinned straight white teeth like a wolf. "Maybe I haven't seen anything of value…yet."

Nyssa removed the sheer scarf she wore about her head, one of her mother's creations, and tossed her hair. She went through the pretense of smoothing the garment and carefully placing it again. Ra'id's dark gaze raked over her hair and face, briefly her breasts.

"How is your mother? I heard she's improving."

"She is."

"So you'll be leaving soon?"

"Not too soon. Maybe I'll find a reason to stay a bit longer."

His grin widened. "Maybe I can give you one."

Nyssa caught the disapproving glance of the woman at the neighboring stall. She would say nothing toward Ra'id, though; she was no fool. None of the villagers ever spoke against the El Fadil family or any of the men under their employ, not if they wanted to remain alive. In return for the villagers' seeming ignorance of what the El Fadils and their guests did for a living, they received protection, employment for many and other financial support. If one person betrayed the El Fadils to an enemy, they risked the entire village paying for that betrayal. So everyone toed the line. But Nyssa knew that loyalty wouldn't keep the woman from later gossiping about the loose morals of Diya Panjabi's daughter. Nyssa didn't care about it for herself, but she didn't want her mother hurt.

"How is your mother?" Nyssa asked Ra'id.

His thick eyebrows rose in surprise. "How kind of you to remember her. She is well."

Thanks to the El Fadils, Nyssa knew. Ra'id's father had worked for the palace for many years and had been responsible for getting his son hired as well. When he had been killed by one of his employer's many enemies a couple of years ago, the El Fadils had given his widow a sum that would keep the woman comfortable for many years to come.

"Is she still in Jaipur?"

"Yes."

"Do you see her much?"

"Usually once a month at least. Whatever my work allows."

Nyssa nodded in approval. "Still working for the palace, I hear?"

Ra'id's grin returned. "Checking up on me, are you? What would your husband say about that?"

Nyssa snorted. "He'd say nothing. We're divorced."

Now Ra'id's eyes crinkled with satisfaction. He tsked sarcastically. "I am so sorry to hear that."

"Yeah, right. I'm not."

"Perhaps we should celebrate, then."

"You have something in mind?"

He raked his fingers through his hair. "I can think of one or two things."

"Well, I have to tend to my mother's business."

"During the day, yes. But not at night." Ra'id made sure he stared at the nosy neighbor, who quickly turned away. He chuckled.

"Are you inviting yourself over for dinner?"

Pretending to be scandalized, Ra'id gasped. "I would never do such a thing, Nyssa. But maybe…I was thinking more like…dessert. But not with your mother."

"Hmm. Well, I might be able to slip out…if she's feeling well enough, that is. But we might not be alone if it's too early."

He frowned. "What do you mean?"

Nyssa's glance flicked down to her left. "There's a man who's been watching me since yesterday. But, then, you probably already knew that, didn't you?"

Ra'id had more sense than to immediately look in the direction she had indicated. "I know nothing about anyone watching you."

"Well, you must. Who else but someone from the palace would be keeping tabs on me? Maybe that's what you're doing with your invitation to…dessert."

"I assure you there was no mention of you in our morning briefing. If someone is watching you…" Something came to him, stopped him; she saw a realization in his eyes. "Well…" He squared his shoulders, swallowed. "It isn't any of Nashir's men."

"No?" She hid her surprise, for she could tell he was being honest. "Who else could it be?"

"Perhaps someone you've wronged. You are still a soldier of fortune, aren't you?"

Nyssa shrugged one shoulder. "Maybe." Her eyes again flicked to the man sitting in the shade of a building, pretending to doze. She wanted to ask Ra'id about Henri, but she wouldn't do it right away. That might scare him off. She would need to give him something first before he would ever consider answering any of her questions.

"Whoever he is, he's either stupid or bold—he's not even trying to blend in."

"Shall I go ask him his business?" Ra'id patted a pistol hidden beneath his clothes.

"No. I'm not afraid of him. Let him have his fun for now."

But if Nyssa hoped to gain access to the palace, she would need to lose her tail. That meant outwaiting him tonight. If he followed the same pattern as last night, he would disappear once she was home with her mother for the evening.

"Well," she continued with a half-smile, "you'd better move on before my mother starts hearing terrible things about her daughter. The least you could do is buy something so it looks like you have an honorable purpose for talking to me."

"All right. Fair enough." He perused the colorful array of scarves and hijabs. "Which is your favorite?"

"Guess."

He narrowed his eyes in pleasure over the game. "Hmm. A bold woman like you will like bold colors. So something red, blood red. Maybe with black in it. Yes, this one here." He picked up the item. "Am I right?"

Nyssa wasn't about to admit that he had indeed chosen her favorite. "I'll tell you tonight." She lowered her voice. "But it will have to be after Maji goes to bed."

"I'll wait outside where she can't see me."

They put on a good show of haggling over a price for the scarf before Ra'id left with his prize. She watched him peruse the wares of other sellers, but it was only for show, and soon he vanished from sight. The woman in the next booth gave Nyssa one last look of disapproval, accompanied by a slight shake of her head. Nyssa smiled to herself and went back to reading her book.

###

Barsad sauntered up the stairs from the lower level of the palace, his fingers combing his damp hair after his morning swim. Thinking of Sanjana, no doubt still dozing in bed, he smiled. But the expression faded in short order when he reflected upon their troubling conversation about marriage and Maysam. If he didn't know better, he'd think Sanjana was jealous of Maysam. Although he didn't think she had heard anything about his past affair with Maysam, he was painfully aware of women's intuition. Sanjana had always lacked self-confidence; how the hell could it be otherwise, considering the life she had led before they became a couple? So it shouldn't be surprising that she might suspect a dalliance. Maybe he shouldn't be quite so warm toward Maysam when Sanjana was around. Barsad frowned. He should probably warn Maysam about this. He didn't want to hurt her feelings if she didn't understand his change in behavior. Jesus, he sighed. Women!

Once on the ground floor of the palace, he turned right, down a broad, carpeted hallway, past a formal dining room, headed for the broad, sweeping staircase near the main door. He heard a commotion and saw Yemi and one of their men hurry out the door. Instinctively Barsad grew concerned and rushed forward. Surely nothing alarming had happened; he would've been called.

Reaching the foyer, he saw Abrams racing down the stairs, a scowl clouding his face. He was quietly grumbling profanities.

"What the hell's going on?" Barsad asked.

Abrams didn't break stride as he passed Barsad, muttering, "I told her, 'Stay in the compound.' She says, 'Sure, sure.' Ten minutes later she's getting in a car. Fuck me. God damn women."

"Maysam? Where's she going?" He trailed after Abrams, saw a familiar white SUV with darkly-tinted windows parked out front, Yemi climbing in.

"Go talk to Bane," Abrams called over his shoulder. "We can thank him for this."

When Abrams opened the SUV door and got in, Barsad thought he saw Talia inside, but then the door shut. He suddenly became aware of a distant, thin cry coming from somewhere outside, above him. It sounded like someone was killing a baby goat. Then he realized it was Henri, crying in a high pitch and calling for his mother. Surely the kid wasn't alone on the veranda?

Barsad hurried outside and looked up toward Talia and Bane's suite. Henri was there, all right, in Bane's arms, shrieking for his mother as the SUV headed for the gate. Cursing, Barsad sprinted back inside. Hopefully Talia and Maysam were just going on a shopping venture, but, if so, why hadn't he been informed of it?

When he reached Bane's suite, he could hear Henri inside, still crying, the sound muffled. Barsad knocked urgently on the door.

"Come in," Bane called.

Barsad found his commander walking slowly around the suite, a sobbing Henri in his arms. Bane moved with a gentle bounce to his step, in hopes of soothing the child, but it was doing little good. Although two years had gone by since Henri's birth, Barsad still found the sight of his large, muscle-bound friend holding his small son amusing as well as moving, the latter even more so now that his own child was about to be born. He wondered if he would be as good a father as Bane.

When Henri saw Barsad, hope flashed in his wet eyes, and the toddler pointed toward the veranda. "Get Mama, Unca John."

Henri's flawed pronunciation of uncle usually made Barsad grin, but he found little to be amused about right now.

"What the hell's going on?" Barsad asked Bane.

"Get Mama!" Henri demanded.

"Hush, child," Bane softly ordered. "Mama is gone."

This made Henri arch his back in protest and cry harder.

"Jin, I said hush."

As Barsad came across the room, Henri stretched his arms toward him. "Unca John…"

"C'mere, kid. You've soaked your dad, and you really need a Kleenex."

"Barsad," Bane began to protest.

"Just gimme the kid. It's clear he's pissed at you. Maybe I can get him to stop crying."

"Must I remind you to watch your language?"

"C'mere, little monster. Let's wipe your snot."

Bane hesitated, but then allowed Barsad to take the boy. Henri wrapped his arms around Barsad's neck and buried his face against his shoulder.

"Okay, hang on," Barsad said. "Don't wipe all that snot on me." He carried the child to the sofa and sat, snatching a tissue from a decorative dispenser on the coffee table. "Here." Pressing the tissue to Henri's nose, he commanded, "Blow." The boy's attempt was half-hearted, but Barsad cleaned him up the best he could as the sobs trailed away into hiccups.

"Want Mama," Henri whined.

"Where'd she go?" Barsad asked Bane. "And why didn't I know about it? Apparently Abrams didn't either. He's pissed."

"Language," Bane growled, sitting at the opposite end of the sofa.

Henri pillowed his head on Barsad's shoulder and repeated, "Want Mama, Unca John."

Barsad raised his eyebrows at Bane to prompt him to explain.

"Talia's departure was only planned last night after dinner. I didn't want to disturb you and Sanjana, especially since your services aren't required in this. Yemi is accompanying Talia to Chateau Blanc, and I have ordered a detail of our brothers to meet her there for security."

"Why Chateau Blanc?"

"When I returned yesterday, it was quite apparent to me that Talia needs a holiday from motherhood." He sighed. "I have been remiss, brother. Duty keeps me away too much, and the work of rearing our somewhat troublesome cub has fallen solely to her. It is wearing on her. She deserves some rest and relaxation, away from responsibility. She didn't want to go, but in the end, I believe she saw the necessity."

"Maysam's going with her?"

"No, merely accompanying her to the airstrip. Talia was quite distraught, parting from our son, so Maysam is comforting her."

"Maysam agrees with her leaving?"

"Yes. We have discussed the possibility before, as you know."

Barsad nodded. "How long will she be gone?"

"A couple of weeks."

Barsad reared his head back so he could better see Henri's face. "You hear that, champ? Your mom won't be gone long. In the meantime, it'll just be us guys, yeah? That'll be fun. We'll do all the things your mom tells us we can't do."

"Barsad—"

Henri sniffed back his ebbing tears. "Shoot gun?"

"Sure! The biggest one I've got."

"Ride elephant?"

"Well, that one's a little tougher—no elephants at the palace. But maybe we can take you to Jaipur."

"Barsad—"

"What? I'm just trying to cheer the poor kid up."

"Ride elephant, Papa Baba?" Henri let go of Barsad's neck and slipped down to sit in his lap, looking hopefully at his father.

"We can talk about that later, Jin."

"See?" Barsad said. "Look at those tears dry right up."

"Jin, tell Uncle John why Mama went away."

Henri's gaze fell, and his lower lip jutted out.

"Remember what I told you?"

Henri hesitated before saying, "Mama sad."

"And why is she sad?" Bane pressed.

"'Cause me."

"You?" Barsad tousled the boy's hair. "Never." He grinned at Bane, who remained impassive.

"He must learn to show his mother respect. If she thinks you have learned your lesson, Jin, she will come home."

Barely audible, Henri mumbled, "I be good. Mama come home."

"Don't worry." Barsad gave him a squeeze and a tickle to the belly that almost pulled a smile from the child. "Your papa will miss your ma as much as you will, and he'll have her home in no time. Just watch."

"You are not helping, Barsad."

"I think I am. Look, he's not crying, is he? And the snot's gone. In fact, I bet I know someone who'll make you feel even better, little guy." He tapped Henri's nose.

"Who, Unca John?"

"Sanjana." He stood with the boy still in his arms. "Let's go see if her lazy bones are outta bed yet."

"I listen to baby?"

"You bet." Barsad grinned. Sanjana loved how Henri would daily press his ear to her belly and talk to the child.

"Baby come out today?"

Barsad chuckled. "I wish, but no, not for a while yet. After your mama comes back. She wouldn't want to miss the birth. I was there when you were born, after all."

Bane stood. "Bring him back here when you and Sanjana are done cheering him up, brother." He offered a conciliatory smile to his son. "Then you and I shall visit the gardens before the day grows too hot."

"Play in the water?"

"Yes, you may splash in the fountains, but only with your hands."

"Yes, Papa Baba." Then Henri whispered loudly in Barsad's ear. "I be good."

Barsad grinned. "That remains to be seen."

Bane watched them go, smiling to himself. The mutual love between Henri and Barsad pleased him. Sanjana adored the child, too, and Bane knew she would play a vital role in helping Henri endure his mother's absence. She would feel sorry for Henri and mother him, so Bane would need to caution her against making Henri forget the lesson behind Talia's time away.

"Naaji!" Bane called to the guard in the hall before Barsad could shut the door behind him.

"Yes, sir?" The Arab stepped smartly into the doorway, a man in his early thirties and a member of the League for ten years.

"You are relieved of duty."

The man frowned. "Sir?"

"Talia will be away for a couple of weeks. During that time, I would like you and our brothers here to enjoy some downtime. Both myself and Barsad will be here and attentive enough to allow this. Two of you at a time may enjoy some relaxation outside the compound each day."

A surprised smile briefly dissolved Naaji's disciplined expression. "Thank you, sir."

"You may go inform your brothers."

"Yes, sir." Naaji hesitated, as if about to question Bane's certainty, but of course the man knew better, and so left the suite, closing the door behind him.

Bane stretched his back and sighed. He looked forward to a walk in the gardens to loosen his joints and muscles, and to watch his son cavort among the flowers and fountains and chase birds. He planned to keep Henri as busy as possible today to distract the boy from grief. And perhaps a trip to Jaipur was not such a bad idea. If anything would help Henri endure, it would be fulfilling his dream to ride an elephant.

Bane's lips twisted when he thought of Talia's sorrow. Hopefully, once at Chateau Blanc, she would allow herself to enjoy her holiday. How he wished he could be with her. To deprive himself of her presence so soon after returning to her was like slicing himself open with a knife. But he knew he had made the right decision.

Still, he would count the days and hours until he held her in his arms again.