Soul Survivors * A.J. Marcus
2
Soul Survivors
T
HE
heavy aroma of incense filled the air. Conrad O’Shea
tried desperately to focus on Loni’s words, but something in
the incense drew him away from her and the other people in
the circle. Although that was the goal of their meditation, it
was stronger than he expected. Loni, his good friend and
high priestess, said they were going to explore past lives
using the special incense she’d found in one of her
grandmother’s old spell books. Conrad expected a simple
guided mediation, but this was more. This was true magic.
He no longer felt his body but was being drawn along
through a tunnel of light. Around him, the ghostly astral
forms of the other people in his meditation circle moved.
They dropped off one at a time, leaving him to travel the
passage of light alone. Then light blazed around him.
B
ENEATH
him, a strong, sturdy horse ran along the biggest
sand dune he’d ever seen. Conrad glanced down and saw
heavy robes covering his narrow, whiplike frame. For some
reason, he didn’t feel hot in the robes, but cool and
comfortable. Around him, the desert winds blew soft and
dry. The sun peeked over the horizon. He wasn’t sure if it
was morning or evening, since the moon hung on the other
horizon.
“Come on, Bataar,” a strong voice urged him from
behind. “We need to find a campsite to wait out the day.”
Conrad wondered how he understood the strange guttural
tongue. He turned and looked over his shoulder. Another
man riding a short horse, more of a pony, really, rode up the
sand dune toward him. The man’s robes were similar to his
own, and a long, curved sword hung over his back.
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3
“Come on, the sun is nearly up,” the man said, riding
up alongside him. “I think there is an oasis nearby. If we are
lucky, there won’t be any travelers there.”
“Lead on, Bold.” The words came out without Conrad
realizing they were even in his mind. “You have been in the
great Turkish waste before. I am simply following you.” The
mind he occupied must have been speaking.
The other man laughed. “What happened to the
courageous warrior who wanted to explore this land with
me?”
“He is tired and isn’t in the mood to be caught by the
desert sun again.”
Bold kicked his little dark horse onward. “Then come, I
will find us water and shade for our camp.”
They rode on through the desert as the sun rose higher
in the sky, and soon, the heavy robes became hot. Conrad
wished they would stop so he could take off the robe. He
knew with less clothing he’d be cooler. Bold kept saying
they’d find the oasis over the next dune. Even the sturdy
little horses were beginning to tire by the time they spotted a
stand of olive trees in the desert.
A small pool of water rested in the center of the grove.
The trees hung heavy with ripe olives. Bold raised his hand,
motioning Conrad to stop. As the pony came to a halt
alongside Bold’s pony, Conrad was amazed that he didn’t feel
sore. He’d never ridden a horse before. But even as the
sudden stop made him slightly nauseous, his legs and back
didn’t complain the way he thought they should.
“The area is clear,” Bold announced and kicked his
mount down the short dune toward the water.
“I will set up camp today,” Bold said as he slid off his
pony. “You did it yesterday. Gather some olives. They will
make a tasty meal before we bed down.”
Conrad dismounted. The ground felt like it was still
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4
moving, and he grabbed the front of the small saddle as the
short horse turned and stared at him. Could the horse sense
the difference between Conrad and Bataar? Letting go of the
saddle, he forced himself to walk to the nearest olive tree. He
took off the hard leather hat he wore over his long black hair
and began filling it with the succulent fruit. But he kept
glancing at the cool, inviting water where the ponies
wandered down to drink once Bold removed the tent and
supplies from them.
The tent was just a roll of heavy, undyed canvas that
Bold tied between two trees. Conrad watched the man work.
Once he was off the pony, Conrad noticed he wasn’t a tall
man, standing no more than about five feet. But there were
broad shoulders under the heavy robe, and a cascade of long
black hair hung nearly to the man’s waist. An olive
complexion and almond eyes screamed Oriental to Conrad.
But Bataar had said they were in the Turkish waste.
Bold walked up and pulled a couple of olives out of
Conrad’s hat. He bit into one and made a horrible face.
“Bitter, but still good,” he said, reaching for more. “A
warrior’s food.”
Conrad laughed. He bit into the fresh olive. The sharp
taste assaulted his tongue. He fought the urge to spit it out
and somehow managed to swallow.
“Maybe tonight we will find a hare or even an antelope,”
Bold said as he walked toward the pond in the center of the
trees, pulling off his robe. Conrad couldn’t help but stare as
the man revealed his powerful back. The man might be
short, but he was well built, with muscular legs.
“Aren’t you going to come join me?” Bold asked,
glancing back over his broad shoulder with a smile. “I’m sure
you’ll sleep better after a bit of a swim.” He stepped out of
the bulky undergarment that hid his hard, round ass.
Conrad’s heart skipped a beat as Bold dropped the cloth
and walked into the water. Trying not to appear too eager, he
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5
walked toward the pond, pulling off his own robes as he
went. He fumbled a bit with the unfamiliar garment, but his
body, or Bataar’s body, knew how to free itself from the
encumbering fabric. As he revealed the body that wasn’t the
one he was used to, Conrad marveled at its hard, narrow
planes. He’d seen guys at the gym with bodies cut like this,
and had even been with one or two, but had never managed
to get his body in this good a shape. How strong was he in
this body? His new body stirred, and he glanced down to see
a smaller dick than he was used to pointing the way to the
naked man wading into the pond.
Rushing forward, Conrad wanted to get the water over
his waist before Bold noticed; he had no idea how the man
would react. He just reached the edge of the warm water
when the warrior turned around.
Bold laughed. “I see you are eager for me this morning.”
He caught Conrad up in his strong arms and hugged him.
Rough, weathered lips touched his, and Conrad lost himself
to the sensation. He ran his hands down the long black hair,
across the massive shoulders that tightened to hold him off
the ground.
As their lips separated, Conrad couldn’t help himself
and a laugh welled up within him. “It seems you are eager
for me as well.”
“I am always eager for you, my mighty warrior,” Bold
replied, scooping up a handful of water to smooth it down
Conrad’s back. For the next few minutes, they poured and
splashed water on each other, washing off the dirt from
unknown days in the desert.
Conrad tried not to stare at Bold as they cleaned each
other playfully, but the man’s physique was incredible. There
was something about the way he moved, an almost feline
grace bound up in a small package hardened by life instead
of time spent in the iron jungle of a gym. He’d heard from
some of his friends that hung out with one of the
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reconstructionist groups that swordplay was a great way to
build a body. Bold had a large sword, and no doubt used it
well.
“Now you smell much better.” Bold poured another
handful of water over Conrad’s head before catching him up
in his arms again. His firm, rough lips pressed against
Conrad’s while his hard cock pushed into Conrad’s stomach.
“So are you in a welcoming mood?”
Conrad pondered for a moment what he meant by that,
until the dark-haired warrior pushed his cock harder into
Conrad’s rock-hard abs. He grinned and kissed the man
back.
“I am in a very welcoming mood,” he said as he wrapped
his own strong legs around the narrow waist.
Bold smiled and kissed Conrad again, wading them
toward the sandy edge of the pond. Conrad felt like he
weighed nothing in the man’s strong arms. He stared deep
into the chocolate-brown eyes that stared back at him
through long, dark lashes. In that gaze, he recognized
something. Bold’s eyes grew wide, and their souls touched
for the first time.
So lost in the brown eyes, Conrad barely felt Bold lay
him down on the warming sand and shift his legs to give the
warrior access. His body reacted to the familiar pressure of
Bold’s cock that he’d never felt before. The sensation was far
beyond anything he’d ever experienced. Was it the strange
magical out-of-time space he found himself in, or something
more profound? Conrad felt their souls mesh as their bodies
did. With Bold’s cock buried deep within him, his cock (or
was it Bataar’s cock?) grew harder and longer as the warrior
rode him on the sandy edge of the oasis.
Their eyes locked again, and Conrad saw something
deep within Bold, saw that the soul within him now felt like
part of his own life force. He wanted to stay here, live this
strange life with the incredible man that he didn’t really
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know, but Bataar did. Deep inside him, deeper even than
where Bold’s cock was buried, was the primal knowledge
that they would always know each other. They had always
known each other.
He reached up and stroked the hard brown cheek,
running his finger down along the smooth jaw line. His body
quickened, and Conrad pulled the dark head down to his
and kissed the weathered lips with all the force he could. His
powerful arms clung to the other man as his body shook
with orgasm. Bold shook, too, and Conrad felt the hot cum
fill him. The sensation was strange; he’d never let another
man inside him without a condom, but that was in his time.
This was definitely another time.
Bold collapsed on top of him with a final heaving thrust,
both of their bodies still shaking from ecstasy. Rough hands
ran across the planes of his face, pulling slightly at the
mustache he hadn’t even realized Bataar had.
“You are the wind that blows my spirit,” Bold said as he
slid gently from Conrad’s body.
Conrad clung to him. “I want to hold you like this
forever.”
Bold kissed him as he chuckled. “The winds of fate are
blowing, warrior of my soul. Be careful what you wish for,
you may have to put up with me forever. Now, let’s wash off
again and settle down for the day. We have another long
patrol tonight. We must make sure the way is safe for the
arrival of the Khan.”
Wondering if he meant Genghis Khan, Conrad stood.
His body complained softly about Bold’s use of it. He
followed the Mongol back into the pool. They washed the
remains of their encounter off and started back for the
shore. An arrow struck a nearby olive tree.
“Turks!” Bold shouted and rushed out of the water.
Somewhere inside Conrad, Bataar screamed and
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8
scrambled after his lover. Conrad felt pushed aside as the
warrior took over the body. His sword lay in the pile of cloth
between the pond and the tent. He had to get to it and stand
with his lover against whatever or whoever threatened them.
More arrows rained down around them. Bold snatched up
his sword and turned in time to swat an arrow from the sky.
Standing there, naked, with the huge curved blade in his
hand, he was the fiercest thing Conrad had ever seen. He
didn’t fight Bataar for control of the body. He let the warrior
do what he must to save Bold.
Four figures rose from the sand dune on the other side
of the oasis. Their robes were the color of the sand, and they
carried short bows, perfect for firing from horseback. Several
more arrows came down, but Bold and Bataar batted them
aside with ease. Then the attackers dropped their bows,
drew the swords, and charged around the pond, screaming
like insane desert demons.
“Forever, wind of my soul,” Bold said softly.
“Forever,” Bataar replied. Conrad’s heart sank as the
two naked warriors screamed war cries of their own and
charged the oncoming attackers. Through Bataar’s eyes, he
could only watch as the men clashed. Bold and Bataar were
great warriors. They met their first attackers and had them
dead on the ground with their first two swings. The other two
were not so easy. The one Bataar fought was larger than the
short Mongol, and his sword arm reached farther. But the
Mongol was faster, and he forced the other man back until
he stumbled into the pond. Bataar finished him off with a
slash of his curved sword that split open the attacker’s robe
and stomach, dropping his guts into the pond’s warm water.
“Filthy Turk,” Bataar said as he spat into the dying
man’s face.
He turned to aid Bold in his battle and watched his
lover fall to the last Turk’s blade.
The world around Conrad twisted in rage and sorrow.
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9
The glowing tunnel claimed him, sweeping him away from
the hot desert.
C
ONRAD
screamed.
The people sitting on the floor around him stared at
him. Somewhere in the distance, a siren wailed as
emergency forces hurried to save people. Conrad heaved a
heavy breath and fought to ground himself back in reality.
He sat in a small office building with members of the magical
community he’d been part of for years. He was safe. He was
when and where he belonged. Bold was but a strange
memory. But why could he still taste the man on his tongue?
Why did his body feel like he’d just had sex? Why was there
a huge wet spot on the front of his jeans? How real had their
past-life meditation been?
“Conrad, are you all right?” asked Loni, their group
leader, as she came to kneel in front of him.
Conrad reached out for her offered hand. It was smooth
and delicate, not at all like the hard, rough fingers that
recently caressed his cheek. But it felt less familiar than the
stranger’s in his vision.
“It was so real,” he sighed, grounding himself with her
physical touch. “How long were we out?”
Loni glanced over her shoulder toward the clock on the
far wall. “Only about fifteen minutes?”
Conrad shook his shaggy brown head. “No way. I was
there for hours.”
“Where were you?” asked Barbara, an older woman who
never missed any of their meetings.
“I’m not sure,” he responded, realizing that the others
were staring at him. “I was riding through the desert with a
Mongol warrior.”
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10
“Oh, how lovely,” Barbara interrupted. “You were
Genghis Khan. I confirmed that I was Cleopatra. I always
knew that I was royalty in my past lives.”
Conrad sighed and shook his head again. “No, I wasn’t
Genghis Khan. I think I was one of his warriors.” Bold’s
almond eyes still stared down at him as they made love.
“A warrior?” Barbara huffed. “How droll, if you’re going
to do these things at least be royalty. It sounds so much
more impressive.”
“I need some air.” Conrad struggled to stand. Loni rose
more smoothly, offering him a hand and then a hug.
“If you need to talk…,” she said, smiling at him.
Nodding and giving a quick wave to the others in the
loose circle, Conrad walked out of the small office into a
short, empty hallway before walking into the exhaust-filled
air outside. A sharp, cool wind bit at him, so unlike the
warm welcoming desert wind he’d experienced with Bold. He
almost turned around to get his coat from the office, but he
didn’t want to hear about what the others had experienced
on their journeys. Could any of them understand the feeling
of finding someone who was meant to be yours forever, only
to watch them die before your eyes?
L
ONI
smiled at Conrad. “You look terrible. Tell me what’s
going on. Does it have to do with the regression the other
night?”
Conrad held the warm cup of coffee in his hands,
hoping that the warmth might somehow chase away the cold
that had crept into his soul since he’d lost Bold. He feared
he’d never be whole again.
“Where do I start?” he asked, looking down at the
wooden table between them. “I can’t sleep without reliving
the vision. I was in the body of a Mongol warrior riding with
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11
another warrior, who was my lover. He was killed in an oasis
by Turks. Every night I go back there, and every night I
watch him die. There has to be something I can do. How can
I find him here and now?”
Loni frowned in thought. “Several of the others reported
also being in the bodies of their past lives. The incense
must’ve been more powerful than I realized. But no one else
was traumatized by the regression. I think we need to send
you back again. Go back and find your warrior. Maybe if we
can end on a happy note, you’ll be able to go on in this life.”
“But, Loni, we touched on a spiritual level,” he said. “We
promised each other that we would always be together. I
don’t want to just go on in this life. I want to find him.”
“We can begin working on that.” Loni reached over and
patted his hand. “But first we need you to feel better about
the situation. To do that, you’re going to have to go back and
end this on a positive note. Then we can see what we can do
about calling him back into your life in the here and now.”
“What do you mean?” Conrad asked, wanting to yank
his hand away from her and put it back around the warm
cup.
“In the same book that I found the incense recipe, there
are several spells for reconnecting with other members of
your soul family. One of those might help draw your two
souls back together. But some of these spells take time to
work. What if he’s in Los Angles, or New York, or even
overseas? It could take time for him to make it here.”
Conrad hadn’t thought about that. He just figured if
they were meant to be together forever, they’d be close to
each other even now. But he knew he had to find Bold, or
whoever Bold was now. Was this why he’d never been able to
find the right man in his life? He’d never dated anyone for
more than a month or so before picking them apart so
thoroughly that they were barely human when he was done,
and far from dateable in his mind. If Loni had a spell they
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12
could do, even if it took years, it would be worth it to hold
Bold in his arms again and look into his soul.
“When can we go again?” he asked.
A
LOUD
cheer sounded in the distance, for a moment
overpowering the repetitive charging of hoof beats. The inside
of the brightly colored pavilion smelled of sweat, leather, and
linseed oil. The bed he lay in was covered in heavy blankets,
mostly scratchy wool. Conrad’s body felt large, awkward, and
recently used for pleasure.
“Come on, Ailin,” a brassy voice called from behind him.
“We have had enough fun for the day. We had best be on our
way to the lines. I would not want the tournament to be over
before the king’s most valued knights have the opportunity
to beat everyone else in fair combat.”
Rolling over, he stared into the most incredible blue eyes
he’d ever seen. Somewhere deep in those eyes was the echo
of brown he recognized from his previous journey into the
past. This time the man was a giant blond, with short hair
and a thick, well-trimmed, golden beard. He reached out to
run his hand down the massive hair-covered chest, tracing
several long scars that marred the beauty there.
The man laughed. “Have not you had enough for a few
hours? I swear, sometimes you are worse than those tavern
wenches in the lusty ballads the bards sing.”
“I will never have enough of you, Tioboid Mac A’bhaird,”
Conrad replied, the name popping into his head.
“And you will be mine forever, Ailin McNair,” the big
blond man said, smiling warmly. “As long as our wives do
not find out. And if we do not don our armor and check our
place on the list, they will become suspicious.” Tioboid bent
over and placed a soft kiss on Conrad’s lips before he rose
and walked over to a chair holding a pile of clothes.
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13
Watching the man move across the tent, Conrad wished
he could remember the encounter that must have happened
moments before he arrived in Ailin’s body. He hadn’t made it
back to Bold, but he had found the soul he sought, and it
appeared that his soul, in this time, had found its
counterpart too. The soreness in his body reflected the
proportions he saw on the blond man. Conrad wondered for
a moment, in these days before lotion and lube, how did
such large men manage sex without causing permanent
harm to each other? Then he decided maybe he didn’t want
to know.
The legs that swung down off the bed were long, heavily
muscled, and covered in soft red hair. A glance down showed
that Ailin’s body was an even match for Tioboid’s. As the big
man stood from pulling on his simple brown pants, Conrad
walked up behind him and hugged him. Tioboid leaned back
into the embrace and laid his head on Conrad’s shoulder.
“Forever,” Conrad whispered.
Tioboid grasped his hand, holding it gently, lovingly.
“Forever.”
They stood there for a moment, and as with Bold,
Conrad felt a wholeness that he’d never felt with any of the
men from his own time. Then a voice outside the pavilion
shouted, “Mac A’bhaird, you have ten minutes until your
next round!”
“I will come shortly. Have my horse readied,” he roared.
He turned in Conrad’s embrace. “The world conspires
against us, my knight. Let us go forth. We would not want
Michael De’Lance to win by default, would we? That
Frenchman would never let the court hear the end of it.”
Their lips met for a second. “No, we cannot let the
Frenchman win,” Conrad said. He didn’t want to let the other
man go, but the world outside awaited them.
It took several minutes to get Tioboid into the heavy
plate armor. When they were finished, the man looked the
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14
epitome of the classic knight. Conrad reached up and
caressed the soft blond beard.
“Be careful,” he said softly. “Beat the Frenchman, and I
will show you favors none of the women in court would dare
give you.”
Tioboid laughed. “He is but a Frenchman, I will be back
in this tent in a few minutes. And then, after you defeat your
challenger, we will celebrate our victories.”
Conrad picked up his own helm and shield and followed
Tioboid out into the afternoon light. Their tent was one of
many in a double row near a long field. Across the field, the
king, queen, and the major royals of court sat in the berfrois
watching the games. From Ailin, Conrad knew the games
were a celebration of the birth of the royal couple’s first son.
They were only into the second day of the weeklong festival.
They walked past the lines of knights preparing for the
joust. At the end of the list, Tioboid’s horse waited, as big
and blond as the knight. Handing his shield and helmet to
the squire holding the horse’s reins, the large man leapt
easily into the saddle, then reached down for his helmet.
Once the lightweight metal obscured the bearded face, he
reached for his shield first, which he then balanced on his
metal-clad foot as the squire handed him his lance.
Conrad walked over to the list rail where several other
knights stood waiting for the next contest.
“De’Lance was beginning to think Mac A’bhaird was
going to forfeit,” one of the knights said as Conrad leaned
against the rail.
Conrad laughed; it sounded strange. He figured it was
Ailin’s laugh. “He would not forfeit to the Frenchman.”
“See I told you, John. Ailin and Tioboid just had it
planned this way,” one of the other knights said, poking at
the first one.
John frowned. “The king was not happy that Mac
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15
A’bhaird wasn’t here earlier.” His blue eyes bored into
Conrad’s “You two will need to be more careful, you are
becoming the talk of the court.”
Conrad couldn’t think of how to respond. He ignored the
other knight and watched Tioboid ride up to accept the
queen’s favor, a small ribbon looped around his lance. Then
the jouster rode back to his end of the list while waiting for
the Frenchman, De’Lance, to receive a token from one of the
single women of the court. Behind him, the two knights
talked in hushed tones.
Tioboid’s golden gelding moved from hoof to hoof,
anxiously awaiting the signal to charge down the list. The
blond knight raised his lance in salute to the Frenchman at
the other end of the field. De’Lance returned the gesture, and
the queen dropped a handkerchief onto the sand in front of
the berfrois
.
Tioboid kicked his horse, and it shot forward in a clatter
of hooves. The Frenchman charged ahead in a cloud of dust.
A loud crack sounded. De’Lance rocked back in his saddle,
but wasn’t unhorsed. Tioboid sat solid, having slid his
opponent’s lance off the edge of his shield. The crowd
cheered.
Until he released it, Conrad hadn’t noticed that he’d
held his breath. The metal gloves he wore creaked as he
unclenched sweaty hands. He’d never felt his heart beat so
hard as he let out a long sigh of relief. Tioboid had survived
the first round. The blond knight rode back to his end of the
list and handed his broken lance to his squire. The young
man then handed a new lance up to the knight. Whirling the
horse around, Tioboid poised himself for his next run down
the field.
Again the knights saluted. Again Conrad held his breath
as the horses thundered down the list. The crack was louder
this time. Both knights rocked back in their saddles, but
managed to stay on their horses. The crowd cheered.
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16
“You know you’re next, McNair?” John shouted over the
cheering.
Conrad’s heart sank for a moment, then he remembered
the desert and how Bataar took over during the fight. He’d
allow himself to slide back into the recesses of Ailin’s mind
and let the knight he had been do what he knew how to do.
“Thanks for reminding me,” he replied. He wanted to
watch Tioboid’s next run, but figured he needed to see to his
horse. Eyes drawn toward the skinny young man holding a
massive black horse, Conrad/Ailin knew that was his squire,
David, and his horse, Midnight. The enormous muscular
gelding was already tacked up. David looked up at him with
a soft hero-worship smile.
“He’s ready for you, m’lord.”
“Thank you, David,” Ailin replied as Conrad let himself
fall back into the recesses of the man’s mind. Strong hands
checked all the straps, buckles, and accoutrements of the
saddle. He grabbed hold of the saddle and tugged on it to
make sure it didn’t move before swinging up onto the horse’s
wide back. He turned toward the list in time to see De’Lance
tumble off the back of his horse to the crowd’s loud cheers.
Ailin raised the lance in salute to Tioboid after his lover
accepted the winning ribbons from the queen, indicating he’d
won his round this time. The big, blond knight raised his
visor and grinned as he trotted past.
With a soft nudge in his horse’s ribs, Ailin rode toward
the queen. He bowed as she placed the ribbons on his lance.
He glanced toward his opponent and saw it was John, the
knight that he’d spoken to at the other end of the list while
Tioboid was jousting. With the queen’s favor on his lance,
Ailin turned the horse and rode down to his end of the field.
Conrad hoped he wasn’t influencing the knight’s skills in any
way. He pushed himself as far back in the man’s mind as he
could without losing his grip on the mind that anchored him
in this time.
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Ailin saluted John and lowered his visor. The view
through the slit was disorienting to Conrad as the knight
kicked his horse down the field. Midnight thundered down
the list, hurling them toward the oncoming knight. Ailin
shifted his shield, trying to make sure he kept it between
him and John’s lance while aiming his lance at the other
knight’s metal chest.
Even though he saw it coming, the impact of the lance
and shield startled Conrad. It hurt and Ailin rocked back in
the saddle from the force of John’s blow. John suffered the
same fate but also managed to stay on his horse. Ailin’s
shoulder ached where the lance struck, but he’d managed to
roll it just in time to keep the saddle.
Conrad tried to stay calm as Ailin gave his splintered
lance to David and accepted a new one. Ailin had done this
before; he’d survived this many times. Their heart beat faster
as Midnight again charged down the field. The sore shoulder
lifted the shield to block the blow, but it was too slow. The
tip of the lance slid along the rising shield, upward toward
his helmeted head. Sharp pain shot through Conrad, and
the tunnel of light caught him as he tumbled back off the
horse.
C
ONRAD
sat upright, sweat dripping from his shaggy brown
hair into his face. His shaking hands flew to his head, feeling
it, making sure it was still there. He lay back on the plush
carpeted floor, his breath heaving in his chest.
“What happened?” Loni asked, peering at him with
concern in her hazel eyes.
It took several minutes before Conrad’s breathing
slowed enough he could speak. He tried to ground and
center his thoughts and his body the way he’d been taught
years ago by his first magical teacher, but it was hard.
Soul Survivors * A.J. Marcus
18
“I died, or Ailin died,” he sighed, struggling to sit up.
“Who’s Ailin?”
“That was the name I had in the Middle Ages,” he
explained. “I found Bold again, only this time he was a
knight named Tioboid Mac A’bhaird. I was a knight named
Ailin McNair. We were in a jousting tournament, and I died.”
Loni was making notes. “Do you mind if I try and look
this all up? There may actually be some record of this.”
“Sure,” Conrad replied. “But what does this mean? I’ve
found him twice now. Both times one of us died right after I
find him.”
“Right after you as Conrad find him,” Loni corrected.
“Do you have any impressions from your past lives about
how long you have been together, or how long they’ve known
each other?”
He ran a long-fingered hand through his hair as he
thought. Then he shook his head.
“No, in both cases I got the impression it wasn’t the first
time they made love. But other than that, I have no idea how
long they were together.”
“So they may have been together for years. Maybe they
lived long full lives by their standards, and something about
the point of death is drawing you to that point when you
travel back. Of course, it all sounds very star-crossed in my
mind. Very romantic too—the two of you are traveling
through time, bound together, but always tragically losing
each other.”
“So how do we find him in this time?” Conrad asked.
“We can try the spell I told you about,” Loni replied. “It
needs to be cast at the new moon so it has time to grow.”
She glanced down at her cell phone. “New moon is this
Friday. We can do it after meditation class, if you like.”
“Let’s do that,” he agreed, standing. “Is there anything I
need to bring?”
Soul Survivors * A.J. Marcus
19
“I’ll go over the spell and drop you an e-mail if you need
to bring anything.”
“What are we meditating on this week?” Conrad asked,
slipping on his coat.
“Folks want another past-life meditation after some of
the results from this last one. If it’s too much for you, you
can just show up afterward.”
Conrad settled a black knit hat onto his head. “I’ll be
fine. Hopefully, this time neither one of us will die.” He
paused before reaching for the doorknob. “Loni, I can’t
express how drawn I am to this guy. I never really believed in
soul mates before. Can it really be that we are bound to be
with the same people or the same souls down through time?”
“That’s what some people believe,” she replied,
stretching her long legs out on the floor. “It’s like
reincarnation—you either believe in it or you don’t. I’ve rarely
found a middle ground on it.”
Long fingers closed around the doorknob. “Well, I didn’t
until the other night when I met Bold. Now it’s the only
explanation I can see. I just hope this spell works and I can
find him again in this life.”
“You realize he might be a she this time around?” Loni
asked as he opened the door.
Conrad shook his head. “I hope the Gods aren’t that
cruel.”
A
LMOND
-shaped blue eyes occupied his dreams. The two
men, Bold and Tioboid, merged as the blond knight was cut
down by the ambushing Turks and the naked Mongol
warrior fought with the Frenchman. Always, warm
welcoming hands played across Conrad’s body, often waking
him as his body exploded with the ghostly pleasures they
offered.
Soul Survivors * A.J. Marcus
20
Loni’s e-mail came two days after the last trip back in
time. Conrad knew that most people would just call them
past-life regressions, but he’d been there. He’d tasted the
other men, he’d felt the pain, both physical and emotional, at
the deaths he’d experienced. If his body hadn’t traveled back
in time, his mind had.
The e-mail said that there wasn’t anything he needed to
bring. It also had some interesting information in it. She’d
found a legend about a Tioboid Mac A’bhaird, who had been
a knight and an advisor to a king back at the start of the
Middle Ages. Records were sketchy, but she had found the
name. Conrad stared at the screen for a bit looking at the
name spelled out. This helped validate what he’d
experienced. He hadn’t just made up a big blond knight
named Tioboid. He wondered what the body the soul lived in
would look like now when he found it here in the present.
Would it be as handsome and powerful as the shells that
held it in the past? He knew his own body wasn’t as nice as
that of Bataar or Ailin, but by today’s standards, he wasn’t
unpleasant.
The desire to be out searching for his soul mate nagged
at Conrad, he hated not actively trying something. But he
knew from years of practice that magic had to be performed
at particular times for it to work properly.
The night of the new moon, he gathered with the
meditation group at Loni’s office. He was thankful that
Barbara, who only wanted to be royalty, wasn’t there.
Several of the folks who had been at the first journey had
questions for him. They compared experiences, and several
sounded like they’d also journeyed back in time. Then it was
time.
T
HE
strange incense didn’t bother Conrad; in fact, he was
getting used to it. It meant he was going to be able to go
Soul Survivors * A.J. Marcus
21
back and see his soul mate. He settled in on a comfortable
pillow on the floor. Loni’s soft voice dropped to a monotone
to help lead the circle of people back in time. Then the white
tunnel appeared, and Conrad found himself facing a rough
wooden fence near a small log cabin.
“Wes, look out!” a deep voice shouted behind him.
He turned and raised his hands just in time to spook
the charging roan stallion that nearly trampled him.
“Heya, horse!” he shouted, sending it turning back into
the far end of the corral, where several other horses moved
restlessly.
“He almost had you that time,” said the tall, slender
man walking toward him. “That horse has been out to get
you since we got him. You’re going to have to be more careful
around him until he learns who’s boss.” The man’s blue eyes
sparkled in the midday sun. Conrad’s heart skipped as he
peered into those eyes. The soul he sought shone out of
those eyes.
“Thanks for watching my back,” Conrad said.
“That’s what partners are for, ain’t it?” the man replied.
Being prepared this time, and feeling a closer
connection to his past life, Conrad searched for a name in
the mind of the man he inhabited. Tobias Freeman had been
the partner of Wes Greely for six years, and they’d built the
cabin and corral in the Colorado mountains four years ago.
They’d gotten the new stallion a week back, and it had been
trying to take Wes out ever since. Conrad sighed. He hoped
he wasn’t going to die by the horse’s hooves before this was
all over. He smiled at Tobias, or Toby, as Wes called him.
“Yup,” he said. The word sounded rough. He jumped the
corral fence and walked over to the well pump to splash a bit
of water on his warm face. Tight arms felt like he’d been
working ever since the sun came up. The odds were he had.
Soul Survivors * A.J. Marcus
22
“So how ’bout a bite for lunch?” Toby asked, coming
over to splash water on his sweaty face.
Conrad looked at the rugged, scruffy face, so different
from the previous bodies he’d seen the soul in. Toby was
whip slender, looked undernourished, but he moved with a
steely grace. His skin was a dark caramel brown and his
light-brown hair was short and curly. Glancing down,
Conrad noticed that Wes was fairly slender too. They must
lead a hard life up in the mountains. Even in the modern
day, winters could be tough. He knew that from the few
times he’d vacationed at ski resorts.
“Sounds good,” he replied to Toby. The man reached out
and took his hand as they walked toward the cabin’s front
door. The hand was strong and rough, but fit perfectly in his,
like it belonged there.
“You know, we’ve gotten almost everything we needed to
get done today, other than breaking that stallion,” Toby said.
“I’m not even sure we really want to keep him. Why not let
him breed the mares and send him back into the
mountains? Some of his sons raised up right would be easier
to handle. That one has a mean streak, and he really doesn’t
like you.”
“We can put off breaking him for today,” Conrad said,
opening the cabin door with his free hand. “Give us a couple
days to think about him.”
Toby nodded in the cabin’s soft, shadowy interior.
After a quick lunch of leftover breakfast biscuits and
ham, Toby caught Conrad up in a hug. His chapped full lips
still tasted of ham. Conrad hugged the other man, finding
the skinny body rail hard. He could have held on forever.
Even in different bodies, their souls touched, and the feeling
of comfortable familiarity washed over him. He’d found his
man again.
“You know, we could just spend the afternoon here in
the cabin until it’s time to feed the horses,” Toby suggested
with a playful lilt to his voice.
Soul Survivors * A.J. Marcus
23
“And what would you suggest we do here in the cabin all
day?” Conrad replied, trying to hide his eagerness to see
what the skinny man kept under the dusty red-plaid shirt
and faded blue jeans.
Strong, nimble hands moved down Conrad’s own shirt,
unbuttoning it. Long fingers reached inside the shirt and
found the nipples hidden there. Conrad’s breath caught at
the soft squeeze. Then his hands went to work removing
Toby’s clothes. From Wes’s mind, he knew what Toby liked
and made the most of making the other man squirm under
his hands and tongue. Their lovemaking was warm and
passionate. When they were done, they curled up on the
heavy quilt-covered bed, just lying in each other’s arms.
“Have I told you lately how happy you make me?” Toby
asked. “Every day with you is special.”
Conrad sighed. He wished he could find the man who
would say that to him now, as opposed to one of his past
lives.
“You make me feel special,” he replied and kissed him.
“Every minute I spend with you is more precious than the
last.”
The stallion screamed from the corral, and a loud crash
followed. Toby let go of Conrad and rolled out of the bed.
“That beast is determined to break the place apart,” he
said, grabbing his jeans.
“Let’s get out there,” Conrad said with a heavy heart.
Was this the point where one of them died in this life? He
could tell from Wes that it was a lonely life up in the
mountains, even with two of them. How horrible would it be
if one of them died, leaving the other to fend for himself in
the wilderness? Conrad snatched up his jeans and slipped
on his boots even as Toby had the door open, letting the late-
afternoon sun into the shadowy cabin.
“Bear!” Toby shouted, grabbing the rifle from beside the
door.
Soul Survivors * A.J. Marcus
24
Conrad saw a second gun there as he started after Toby.
He’d never fired a gun before in his life. Letting Wes take the
reins of the body, he blinked as they ran outside.
The stallion had kicked down a section of fence. A huge
brown bear—Conrad wondered if it was a grizzly—stood
pawing the well pump, as if it were trying to figure out how
to make it work. Toby paused on the cabin’s small porch,
shouldered the rifle, and fired. The bear jerked once, turned,
and roared toward them as blood flowed from its shoulder.
Wes brought the second rifle up and fired. He missed as
the bear charged for them. Toby chambered another bullet at
the same time Wes did. Together they fired. Both shots found
the bear. It shuddered to a stop and roared again. The two
men stepped back as they chambered more bullets, and the
bear rose up on its hind legs before them. Twin shots roared
from the porch, and the bear toppled down.
Toby walked toward it. He chambered another bullet.
When he approached the head, the bear thrashed and
caught him in the leg. The skinny man went down, and the
gun went off. Conrad’s heart raced as Wes brought his rifle
up and fired at the bear’s eye. The beast stopped moving.
The stallion screamed again. Conrad looked up just in
time to see it driving several of the mares into the forest
beyond the corral. He didn’t care. He stumbled down the
stairs to Toby, who was struggling to sit.
“Are you okay?”
He drew a long breath. “Yeah, was just a death throe.
The landing hurt more than the bear.”
Conrad dropped the gun and threw his arms around
Toby. “I thought I’d lost you.”
“It’s going to take more than one little ole grizzly for you
to lose me. You’re stuck with me forever,” he said, chuckling
before their lips met.
The tunnel of light swirled up around Conrad, carrying
him away again.
Soul Survivors * A.J. Marcus
25
T
EARS
rolled down Conrad’s face. The third trip had been
the charm. Neither one of them had died. His heart leapt as
he cried. They weren’t star-crossed souls destined to always
meet a tragic end. He would find happiness, if only he could
find his long-lost soul mate in this time.
“What’s wrong, Conrad?” Loni asked. He hadn’t even
noticed that she’d come over to him. Everyone else in the
group was watching them.
“We both lived,” he whispered, unsure of his voice. “The
bear attacked us, and we both lived.”
She threw her arms around him. “That’s wonderful!”
Conrad wiped the tears with the sleeve of his shirt. It
was going to work out. He just knew he’d find the man who’d
been missing from his life, and they’d be together for the rest
of their lives, and then on into the next life, forever.
T
HE
full moon eased its way up in the east. Conrad stared at
it as he walked. Two weeks had passed since he and Loni
cast the spell to help his soul mate find him, and still
nothing. She warned him that it might take time, but he
hoped it wouldn’t take long. Magic didn’t work on any
timeline but its own. He knew that. But after being alone for
thirty years, he didn’t want to be lonely any longer than
absolutely necessary. The rising moon was another reminder
of passing time. The thought of going to Loni and asking to
use the incense to go back again, find his time-lost lover’s
soul, was strong, even though she’d warned him he
shouldn’t go back again. If his soul went back in time, it
might interfere with the spell to call the other soul to him.
Soul Survivors * A.J. Marcus
26
Lost in thought, seeing only the full moon rising in front
of him, Conrad stepped off the curb before the light turned
green. He heard the screech of tires just as strong hands
grabbed him and pulled him back off the street.
“Dude, watch where you’re going!” a deep voice said.
Conrad blinked as the traffic sped past. He turned to
the voice. Under the bill of a black baseball cap sat the most
beautiful blue eyes he’d ever seen. Sparkling from their
depths, a soul shone out, the soul he’d been searching for.
The other man blinked and stared for a moment. “Do I
know you?”
“I think I would remember you if we met before,” Conrad
answered, not daring to explain. “But you look like someone
I should know.”
The man laughed. It was a good rich laugh. Conrad
knew it was a laugh he would happily hear on a regular
basis. “I’m Ted.” He offered his hand to Conrad.
“Ted,” Conrad replied, savoring finally having a name for
the man who carried the soul. “I’m Conrad. You just saved
my life, let me take you to dinner.” A small jolt of energy
jumped between them as they touched for the first time.
Ted’s hand felt natural in his, like it belonged there.
Ted smiled. “I was on my way to get something to eat
and wouldn’t mind the company.”
Conrad didn’t want to let go of the hand, but couldn’t
think of a good reason to keep it, particularly since he and
Ted just met in this life. With great reluctance, he let go.
“So I know a really nice little diner not far from here,”
Conrad said.
“The Main Street Grill?”
“That’s the one.”
“I love that place.” Ted grinned. “They make the best
paninis in town.”
Soul Survivors * A.J. Marcus
27
Conrad smiled. He wanted to know everything about
Ted, but already his soul sang out that he was the one. He’d
been the one down through time, and now they’d finally
found each other again. Ted had saved him in more ways
than he could imagine. Under the full moon, their life
together would start over dinner at the Main Street Grill.
About the Author
A.J.
M
ARCUS
has been writing to pass the time since high
school. The stories he wrote helped him deal with life. A few
years ago, he started sharing those stories with friends who
enjoyed them, and he has started sending his works out into
the world to share with other people. He lives in the
mountains with his extremely supportive lover. They have a
lot of critters, including dogs, cats, birds, horses, and
rabbits. When not writing, A.J. spends a lot of time hiking,
trail riding or just driving in the mountains. Nature provides
a lot of inspiration for his work, and keeps him writing. He is
also an avid photographer and falconer, don’t get him started
talking about his birds because he won’t stop for a while.
Visit A.J. on his website:
send him an e-mail:
find him on Twitter:
twitter.com/#!/aj_marcus,
or follow him on Facebook:
Copyright
Soul Survivors ©Copyright A.J. Marcus, 2012
Published by
Dreamspinner Press
4760 Preston Road
Suite 244-149
Frisco, TX 75034
http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the
authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead,
business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cover Art by Catt Ford
This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is
illegal and a violation of International Copyright Law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon
conviction, fines, and/or imprisonment. This eBook cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No
part of this eBook can be shared or reproduced without the express permission of the Publisher. To
request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press at: 4760 Preston Road, Suite
244-149, Frisco, TX 75034
http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/
Released in the United States of America
June 2012
eBook Edition
eBook ISBN: 978-1-61372-645-7
