Peace Piper Read online

  Peace Piper

  Soul Warriors Book 3

  by

  ALLIE BURTON

  Her mother imprisoned by a murderous Egyptian cult.

  An ancient instrument with powers to ensnare her teenage soul forever.

  A handsome warrior who trusts her with his life and who she must betray.

  Piper Akins hates working with brainy Soul Warrior Math to find the ancient trumpet of peace. She was chosen for the search because Piper doesn’t slip into unconsciousness when the trumpet is played—a connection from an unknown, but powerful father.

  Math was chosen for the quest because of his brilliance, but he wants to prove to his warrior brothers that he’s strong and more than just a brain. When Piper tricks him, he realizes he’s failed at both.

  As they pursue their mission, Math helps Piper discover her hereditary magic and teaches her to use the powers. She finds her true self and is drawn to him as they create their own kind of magic. Until Piper is ordered to betray Math to save her dying mother.

  Reviews About Soul Warrior Series

  “If you are a fan of Rick Riordan and his Chronicles of Kane series or even books about a quest, with some love and history thrown in…THIS BOOK IS FOR YOU!” –Hooked in a Book Reviews

  “…fast paced excitement with romance a nice compliment to the action…This book is great for people who like action adventures with a bit of magic and mythology mixed in.” –Book Briefs

  Dear Reader:

  I hope you enjoy PEACE PIPER! If you’d like to get the latest Allie Burton news sign up for my newsletter at www.allieburton.com. Your email address will never be shared and you can unsubscribe at any time.

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  Thank you so much and happy reading!

  Allie Burton

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  Other Books in Series

  Soul Slam

  Tut’s Trumpet

  PEACE PIPER

  Soul Warriors Book 3

  Copyright © 2015 by Alice Fairbanks-Burton

  All Rights Reserved

  No part of this book may be reproduced, downloaded, transmitted, decompiled, reverse engineered, stored in or introduced to any information storage and retrieval system in any form, whether electronic or mechanical without the author’s written permission. Scanning, uploading or distribution of this book via the Internet or any other means without permission is prohibited.

  Please purchase only authorized electronic versions, and do not participate in, or encourage pirated electronic versions.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  The author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Chapter One

  Piper

  The eerie quietness of my uncle’s pawn shop slithered across my skin making the hairs on my arms stand at attention. Something was wrong. The shop was usually crawling with down-on-their-luck people who traded precious objects for cash, but there wasn’t a soul around in the middle of the afternoon on a weekday. Uncle Louie profited from people’s misery. The dirtiness of his business clung to me, and I always left needing a shower.

  From the back room, he dealt in stolen and black-market goods. Illegal items. Magical relics.

  The reason for my visit today.

  Inching into the shop, I trod carefully around the frayed carpet near the stairs and the dented linoleum floor. A moldy smell wafted from the bookcases. The shelves lining the walls were filled with clocks and paintings and other knickknacks the good people of San Francisco could no longer afford. The floor itself held antique couches and rocking chairs, musical instruments, and even a fake mummy.

  I lived in the basement of an Egyptian museum and I’d seen a real mummy. I’d seen lots of strange items and occurrences.

  My gaze shifted to the main counter holding precious jewelry underneath its glass surface. Jewelry I’d love to wear.

  Black boots and the ripped hem of a pair of jeans lay on the floor sticking out from behind the counter. I sucked in a sharp breath. Uncle Louie?

  Stepping closer, my body trembled. Shock pulsed in an uneven rhythm through my veins, making me lightheaded. I tried to control my reaction. Dealing with unusual situations was nothing new, but dealing with murder? I never saw that in the museum basement.

  Nausea built in my belly and crawled up my chest. I slipped my cell phone out of my back jeans’ pocket, ready to call the cops. My hand holding the phone shook, sending vibrating tremors up my arm. If Uncle Louie was around and I called the cops, he’d be furious. I didn’t want to talk to the police knowing my uncle’s reputation.

  Knowing my mom’s situation.

  Knowing my secret errand.

  Best to investigate first. Talk to Uncle Louie. Find the object I came for. And then make the decision whether to call the cops.

  I clicked on the video app on my phone and started recording. Better to have visual evidence I didn’t commit murder. The cops wouldn’t trust my word because I had no traceable history. Aaron, the leader of the Magical Order of Crucis, wouldn’t trust me, either.

  I tiptoed toward the counter and leaned over.

  Bob, one of Uncle Louie’s employees, lay motionless on the ground. Sorrow and pain flowed through me. I didn’t see blood or a bullet hole or a knife wound. With wobbly knees, I bent down to check for signs of life. The sickness in my stomach threatened to rise at the thought of touching a dead body. Because why else would the guy be lying here?

  A screeching noise came from the back room.

  My body stiffened. Every muscle contracted and tightened. I jerked my head up, listening. Someone was in the shop.

  The killer? Or my uncle? Or maybe he was both?

  Nothing Uncle Louie did surprised me. Aaron said my uncle would do anything to make a buck. I planned to escape from both of them. Soon.

  I couldn’t take the time to discover if and how Bob died, I needed to find out who lived, who was making the noise. If it was Uncle Louie, he could deal with this death scene.

  The screeching continued and my body hummed along. The music called to me in a strange way, even though it sounded like a badly-played instrument. A saxophone or a trumpet.

  My heart thudded and dropped, tapping at my feet like one of Tut’s gold sandals. Couldn’t be the powerful instrument I’d been sent to pick up.

  Uncle Louie wouldn’t be so stupid to disobey the demands of the Magical Order of Crucis. Would he? I might be scared of Uncle Louie, but I was terrified of the Order. They held my life and my mom’s life in their fascist fists. Or in Mom’s case, their underground ceremonial temple.

  An urge to follow the sound tugged me forward. Only because it was my job to retrieve Tut’s Trumpet of Peace. Nothing else. Brushing aside the urge to run toward the noise, I forced myself to walk to the back room at a slow, steady pace. I didn’t believe in the magical properties the trumpet was supposed to possess.

  I followed the discordant notes into the short, dark hallway leading toward the bathroom, break room, and my uncle’s office. The disgusting bathroom was to the right. Door open and empt
y. A person had to be desperate to use the foul facilities.

  The break room was to the left. A shop employee lay on top of the table, a lit cigarette dangling from his hand. Motionless. No blood or gaping wound.

  The pounding in my heart increased so fast it sounded like a speeding train. The hairs on my body didn’t just stand at attention, they froze in place. Holy hieroglyphics.

  Moving past, I knew I couldn’t help the guy if he was still alive. I was good at fixing machines, not people. Plus, this need to find the source of the sound pulled. I glanced at my cell phone, recording my stroll through the land of the dead. Calling the cops would be the smart thing to do, the right thing to do, except Uncle Louie would kill me. Unless he was dead, too.

  And Aaron, the leader of the Order, would assign me a fate worse than death.

  Indecision danced on my own grave. Be killed by the killer or call the cops and be killed by Uncle Louie or Aaron. Which will it be, Piper?

  I’d finally gotten my driver’s license and a bit of freedom from Aaron and the Order. Before, they’d kept us prisoners in the secret basement of the museum. Hoping to use my new freedom once Mom was healthy, I planned to escape. In the meantime, I was trying to prove my trustworthiness to Aaron while I bided my time.

  “It’s a valuable artifact.” Uncle Louie’s greedy voice slid into the hallway—a wheeling and dealing snake.

  The imagined snake slunk across my skin. The fear he was dead faded. The fear he might kill me never waned. The instrument still played. And still pulled. I held my body back, hiding by the doorway.

  “Worth lots of money.” Uncle Louie continued his sales pitch, although he slurred his words. Weird, because Uncle Louie didn’t drink. “The trumpet came with a special shipment from Egypt.”

  That very trumpet blared in my head, confirming my suspicion and heralding my demise. Uncle Louie was selling Tut’s Trumpet of Peace. Aaron would be furious and the Magical Order of Crucis would take retribution on Uncle Louie.

  On me, and my mom, too.

  The urge to dash into the room and rip the trumpet away from the player pulsed inside of me. To save myself, my mom, and the trumpet.

  “How much?” A nasally voice asked.

  The trumpet screeched a high, out-of-tune chord, so there had to be a third person in the room who played. The need to play the trumpet rushed through my bloodstream and twitched in my fingers. I could play the trumpet so much better even though I’d never had a single music lesson or touched an instrument in my life.

  Confusion jumbled my thinking. Why would I think I could play it?

  The desire to play battled with fear of this same desire. Teasing and taunting, fighting for my soul. My job was to pick up the trumpet from Uncle Louie and deliver it to Aaron, not play the instrument.

  Uncle Louie was the middleman. The Order had the trumpet delivered to him in an illegal shipment. He was supposed give the trumpet to me so I could bring it to Aaron. The Magical Order of Crucis believed the Trumpet of Peace would bring harmony to the world, and Mom would be free from her pain and suffering.

  Camel dung.

  How could Tut’s trumpet bring peace when it had already caused death?

  Trying to make a decision, my mind swirled and twirled with options. Should I tiptoe out of the shop and call the cops? Should I charge into Uncle Louie’s office and steal the trumpet? Should I stay here, hoping another option occurred?

  If I didn’t do everything I could to protect the trumpet, Aaron would punish me and my mother. He wouldn’t trust me to run errands. I needed to find out what was going on, who was buying the trumpet, so if I lived I could report my findings. Similar to a car with a bad muffler, my body rumbled. I wanted to live. I wouldn’t get caught by whoever had killed Bob and the other employee.

  I peeked into Uncle Louie’s office. My uncle sat in his cracked leather chair behind a big, salvaged, metal desk. His dark eyes flickered closed and then popped open. He rubbed a hairy hand across an unshaved chin. His head lolled as if he wanted to fall asleep in the middle of the negotiation.

  If Uncle Louie thought dealing with these possible killers was boring, what kind of people did he normally associate with?

  Maybe I didn’t want to know.

  Two men stood on the other side of the desk. The first man wore slacks and a black leather jacket. His dark hair was covered by a baseball cap, putting his face in shadow.

  The second man turned away from me and I couldn’t see his face. He held the long, silver trumpet to his lips and played. Hieroglyphics were etched into the instrument. This had to be the trumpet the Order of Crucis sent me to retrieve.

  Holding my phone up, I video-recorded the transaction. If I couldn’t save my greedy Uncle Louie from the Order, maybe I could save Mom and myself. He’d never done anything to help us, offering a lot of excuses. Excuses were just a way to get out of responsibility.

  His head fell back against the chair and his eyes closed. He was out.

  My ribcage contracted squeezing air. I jerked back from the edge of the door. Was he dead? Why else would he fall unconscious while talking to these two men? Aaron had told me the trumpet was powerful. Powerful enough to kill?

  I slapped my free hand to my chest. I wasn’t dead. My heart still beat, even if it ran at a fast pace. My mind fogged in confusion.

  “Louie is out. I’ll get the case. You keep playing until we’re gone from the building.” The first man picked up an old black leather music case with gold buckles. “That will teach Louie not to double-cross in his deals.”

  Out? What did that mean? Questions screamed in my head. Dead? Unconscious? Sleeping? And how could any of this be possible?

  The man playing pivoted toward the door, holding the trumpet to his mouth.

  I took another step back. My heart dashed. My gaze darted around the small hallway, searching for a place to hide. The break room was farther down the hall and had no door, so the two men could see inside walking past.

  My brain engaged. I had to fake death.

  I flopped onto the ground, making sure my phone pointed up, wanting more video of these two men to show Aaron. My legs lined up against the wall. My hand holding the phone lay on my chest at a bent angle. And my other arm lay out to the side. I closed my eyes.

  My heart went ba-boom, ba-boom. Ba-boom, ba-boom. The men would notice the up-and-down of my chest and the tenseness of the muscles on my face.

  Relax, Piper. Just relax.

  The trumpet player stopped playing. “There’s a girl here.”

  I held my breath while my mind flew in a million panicked directions.

  “Keep playing.” The second man responded from the doorway.

  The noise of the trumpet moved past me and down the hall like the Pied Piper.

  Shock choked on a hysterical giggle. Piper was my name. Playing trumpets wasn’t my game. Keeping my mom safe, surviving, was the only game I played. And it wasn’t fun.

  The second man stomped on my finger.

  Agony shot through my hand. I held in a scream.

  “She’s out, too.” He moved past and marched into the showroom, following the player. The door chimed when they left the pawn shop. The horrible music stopped.

  “Ouch.” Shaking my hand, I kept my voice quiet. I jumped to my feet, ran toward the front of the shop, and peered out the glass door. Both men were gone.

  Emptiness crept inside me. I felt at a loss, missing something and not sure why. The men were gone with the trumpet and left behind three bodies.

  The sense of loss multiplied. Uncle Louie. His two employees. The Trumpet of Peace.

  I had to call the cops. I had no choice.

  “Hey.” Bob struggled to his feet and leaned against the counter. His eyes appeared blurry and his expression confused. “What happened?”

  I jerked my head up. Stared. Hysteria cascaded through me in waves, realization after realization rolling in. Bob wasn’t dead, which meant Uncle Louie probably wasn’t dead either.

&n
bsp; The second employee stumbled from the break room as if he’d come out of a deep sleep. Not death. “Sorry man, I fell asleep on my break.” He rubbed his back. “On the table. Weird.”

  My heart jump-started. They weren’t dead, hadn’t been killed by those men. My brain shifted, trying to put the events in realistic order. They’d been sleeping. Why had everyone fallen asleep at once?

  “Piper!” Uncle Louie stood by the hallway to the backroom. He rubbed his fingers through greasy brown hair. “What happened? Did you take the trumpet?”

  The accusation slashed across me and resentment burned. Of course, he’d accuse me. He blamed me for everything. Including Mom’s issues.

  “No. Those two men you were…talking to.” I didn’t want to accuse him of double-dealing, even though he’d accused me. “Should we call the police?”

  “I don’t do cops.” His big nose went red.

  I understood why he didn’t want to call the police, but whose questioning would be worse? A beat cop’s or Aaron’s? Though Aaron wouldn’t want the police involved, either.

  My stomach twisted, worry and anxiety braiding together. “That was the trumpet I was supposed to—”

  “Shut up, Piper!” Uncle Louie pounded his fist into his head. “Let me think.”

  The twisting in my stomach gnawed into fear. “The Order will realize you tried to sell the trumpet to a higher bidder.”

  “No, they won’t. You’re a stupid sixteen-year-old girl who doesn’t know anything.” He turned his rotund body toward the back room. “Follow me.”