Chapter One

The whole world was black and white.

Paul looked around slowly, his eyes landing on the white arch and then at the gate that lay beyond it. The gate was closed. Sealed shut. Mist swirled all around him, making it nearly impossible to see more than a few feet in front of him.

“Am I dead?” He flinched as his words echoed far too loudly in the deathly quiet that surrounded him.

“Not yet.”

The voice came from his right and Paul flinched, jerking backwards and then turning in the direction of the voice.

A man was standing there. Like the world around them, he was only in black and white. While his face didn’t look all that old, his hair was very pale. He was thin, but still appeared to be well-muscled. And he was wrapped in a cloak.

“Who are you?” Paul asked, before repeating what was, for him, the most important question. “Am I dead?” Strangely, that thought didn’t fill him with the same sense of dread it might have once. Perhaps because he’d already died once and learned that the only thing to fear was losing himself to the darkness.

“My name is Ka.” The man stepped forward, closer to him. “I’m an ancestor to the body that previously housed your soul.”

Paul stared at him and finally managed an ineloquent, “Huh?”

“Take a look.” The man, Ka, stepped to one side. He gestured towards a body of water Paul hadn’t noticed before.

Slowly, Paul stepped forward. Eyeing Ka warily, he knelt down on the bank and looked over the water’s edge.

It wasn’t his own face looking back at him.

The face that he saw belonged to a man of about his own age. But that was the only similarity. This man’s hair was long and dark, tangled and unbrushed. Perhaps even unwashed. He wore a pair of earrings and had on clothes that appeared to be made from animal skins.

“Rangi.” Ka’s voice broke whatever spell had been cast and Paul looked up at the man, the spirit, he assumed, as he continued, “That was your name the first time you lived.”

“I don’t understand.”

Ka’s smile was almost kind. “You will.” He stepped forward and, with one swift movement, he pushed Paul into the water.

###

“Mehe…Mehe….”

Paul’s whimpering voice caused Martin to surface from his sleep. Both of his younger lovers were pressed against him, a blond head and a dark one resting on a shoulder each. But Paul was writhing around, muttering the one word over and over, his hands clutching at Martin’s bare chest. “Mehe…Mehe….”

“Paul. Wake up.” Martin threaded his fingers through the blond locks. “You’re dreaming.”

The younger man reacted like an angry cat. He sprang from the bed, crouching and hissing before poking his tongue out. “What did you do with Mehe?”

Grant sat up, his hair mussed and his eyes heavy-lidded from sleep. “Paul?” he muttered, smothering a yawn behind his hand. “What’s going on?”

Martin sat up carefully, watching as Paul’s blond head darted between him and Grant. Keeping them both in his sights. His hand twitched to his waist and then he dropped it in confusion, glancing down as if startled by his own nakedness, before looking at Martin, locking eyes with him and hissing once more. “Where is she? Where is Mehe?”

“Who’s Mehe?” Grant muttered.

Martin held up a hand and crawled slowly towards the end of the bed, never taking his eyes off Paul even for a second. “Do you recognise me?” he asked.

“Waka.” Paul’s tongue poked out again and he abruptly lunged at Martin, bowling him over onto the bed and pinning him against the mattress, knee pressing against his chest and hand against his throat. “I don’t know what you’re scheming, or why you dared to return without her, but I would recognise you no matter what form you shapeshift into.”

Reaching up, Martin grabbed Paul’s hips. “Paul.” His voice cut off in a choking gasp as his lover’s hand pushed harder against his throat, choking him.

“Bring me back my sister, Waka.” Paul ground out the words in a low, savage tone.

“Paul, what are you doing?”

There was movement above him and Paul abruptly toppled to one side, allowing Martin to breathe again. He raised his head, in time to see Paul throw an uppercut to Grant’s jaw, making his head crack back. And then he followed it with a punch to Grant’s stomach and a kick to his groin, sending him toppling to the floor with a loud thump.

When Paul would have gone down after Grant, Martin recovered his equilibrium and grabbed his younger lover around the waist. He pulled Paul back against his chest and delivered a firm smack to Paul’s backside.

Paul threw an elbow back into Martin’s stomach, knocking the wind out of him, and then smacked his head back into Martin’s face, catching him in the eye.

A gun shot sounded into the room.

Martin looked up, towards Walter, who was standing in the doorway, gun aimed into the room, but with the barrel pointed towards the ceiling, as if he’d only fired a warning shot into the air.

Paul let out a snarling growl that sounded more animal than human, then twisted free of Martin’s hold and charged towards Walter, hands raised and nails curled like claws.

Ray moved swiftly to Walter’s side, both of them blocking the door.

Rubbing at his sore throat, Martin clambered to his feet and stepped towards his younger lover, though he was careful not to touch, seeing the tense set to Paul’s body. “Paul. What’s happened?” He stepped round, placing himself in front of the blond, between Paul and Walter and Ray. “Talk to me,” he pleaded.

Paul backed up, his eyes darting around like a cornered animal. Then, abruptly, he turned away and ran towards the window.

“Paul.” Martin darted after the blond, but his reflexes were too slow and his fingers only grazed Paul’s bare shoulder before his lover somersaulted out the window. By the time Martin got there and looked out, there was no sign of Paul on the ground below.

Grant reached Martin’s side, staring out before jerking away and beginning to pull on his clothes. “He’s not going to get very far. He’ll be bleeding from the glass. No matter what kind of adrenaline rush or whatever he’s on, the cuts and that he’s naked are going to slow him down.” He paused and then looked at Martin, an uncertain note slipping into his voice as he asked, “Right?”

“It’s not as simple as running on adrenaline or another hormone released by his body.” Anubis pushed his way into the room. He walked over to the broken window and glanced out, then turned to look at Martin, a grim look passing over his face. “I sensed something while we were all sleeping, but I can’t be sure what it was.”

Martin quickly began pulling on his own clothes, not wanting to be the only one naked. He glanced out the window. “I need to get to him.”

Grant ducked under Martin’s arm and looked into his eyes, saying with a worried tone, “He attacked you. Like he thought you were someone else. An enemy.”

“An enemy?” Anubis’ eyes darted towards Grant and Martin. He took a step closer to them. “What exactly did he say?”

“He kept asking where someone was. Mehe.” Martin frowned, looking down at Grant. “He called me something too.”

Grant nodded. “Waka.”

Anubis’ face turned even more pale than normal and he took a step back, swallowing visibly before asking, in a low voice, “Waka Nuku Rau?”

Dorian slipped into the room behind Walter and Ray, who moved inside to give him room. He stepped over to Anubis and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, asking softly, “Are you all right?”

“Who is Waka Nuku Rau?” Walter asked.

“He lived back in ancient Maori times,” Anubis replied. “The poison that infected both this land and the reservation once spread across the whole land. It originated back then, when the world was broken and the dead were forced back into their decaying bodies.”

“Is that where the spirit guardians came from?” Ray asked.

“The barrier between the living and the dead was ripped open and it didn’t just affect the land of the tribes,” Anubis answered. “The dead took over the whole world. Those days were filled with darkness. The spirits were filled with anger and rage. And they were manipulated by the god of the dead, who wanted what the living had.”

“But there’s nothing about that in our world’s history,” Grant whispered.

“And you won’t find any mention of it in your history books,” Anubis answered. “Much like most of the myths and legends that have evolved and changed from the truth. You have the legends and stories of zombies in this world. The reality is different. Is far scarier.”

“What does that have to do with Waka?” Ray asked. “The name scared you.”

“Waka Nuku Rau was a man who lived at the time the world broke,” Anubis answered. “He was a great warrior. And a cruel, bloodthirsty man who drank the blood of his enemies.”

“But that’s not Martin,” Grant protested. “He’s not like that.” He pressed closer against Martin’s side, almost clinging to him.

“Is it possible he was reincarnated?” Ray asked. He shifted a bit nearer to Walter, resting his head on his partner’s shoulder and reaching out to grasp Walter’s hand.

“It is,” Anubis agreed.

“I’d say that maybe Paul was, too,” Martin said quietly. “Something made him remember?”

“Something caused his past life to resurface and take over.” Anubis frowned. “Mehe. The name is familiar, but doesn’t strike the same chord as Waka’s did.”

“If Paul called me Waka, then whoever he lived as before knew me as that name.” Martin frowned. “Can you help me remember?” he asked Anubis.

“I can’t make you remember myself, but I can take you to the land of the dead, where there’s a chance you could gain the memories of your past life,” Anubis said. “But considering Waka’s bloodthirsty past, I’d be worried about his personality taking over yours.”

Grant squeezed Martin’s hand and Martin looked down at his lover, squeezing his hand in return. He then looked at Anubis. “Can you help me? Help me control the memories and personality of my past life?”

“Maybe,” Anubis replied.

“Is this place somewhere any of us can go to?” Ray asked.

“I can take you all there,” Anubis replied. “But it’s a dangerous place and you’ll need to be mentally prepared.” He looked at each one of them in turn. “The decision is yours.”