Pieces of Your Soul: Part One

by Kerri

He'd noticed the big man staring at him. He didn't like it.

The large man was sitting in a booth in the back of Harry's Hideaway nursing a beer, looking like he was waiting for someone. He was Native American, long dark hair shot with gray at the temples, high cheek bones, copper-toned skin. The moment Logan stepped foot in the place, he'd felt the man's eyes on him. Hell, it was usually Gumbo that got that kind of attention, from women *and* men.

He was about to go over and bury some claws in the man when Beast, wearing his image inducer, strode through the door and took a seat across from the stranger.

Logan settled back down. That's all it was, he told himself. The stranger was waiting for Hank, probably recognized him as a friend of Blue's. Not a potential victim about to make a pass, thank God. That was one complication he didn't need right now. All he wanted to do was take a break from the crowd at the mansion.

He'd had a few beers and shot a game of pool solo before Hank waved him over to join them.

"Logan, this is a friend of mine from San Francisco, Thomas Ashcroft."

Logan stood by the table and nodded politely.

"Thomas is an authority on the tribal rites and practices of North American native peoples. He was asking about the medallion you wear." Hank's voice was calm, hoping to avoid the scene that might happen. Logan was touchy about the subject of his medallion. Not remembering exactly where he got it and what it meant didn't lessen the idea it was important to him. He never took it off, calling it his good luck charm. Swore nothing bad ever happened to him when he wore it. Would swear nothing *good* ever happened to him, either, after a couple of six-packs.

Logan's lip curled as he turned to the stranger, glaring a warning into the man's amber-colored eyes.

"I was telling Dr. McCoy that the medallion is known to me. I asked if he knew where you obtained it." His voice was soothing, non-threatening.

"Ya can tell me what it is, what it means?" Logan pulled up a chair to the end of the booth and set his beer down.

"Yes, if you want to know."

"I'll just leave the two of you alone to talk," Hank murmured, rising.

Logan shook his head. "Nah, that's okay, stick around." He wasn't sure about what he might learn, and wanted the backup.

Hank sat back down.

"May I look at it?" Thomas gestured to it.

After a moment's hesitation, Logan removed it and placed it in the Indian's hand. He had to consciously restrain himself from snatching it back.

The man touched it reverently, turning it in his large hands. He had a bemused smile on his face. "It is a bonding gift, part of a set, approximately 200 years old. The Quapoa tribe used these to symbolize the union of two souls. This one is the male medallion. When a man wore it, he publicly announced his intention to love and protect his 'soulmate' for time and all eternity. This particular piece was specially crafted for a shaman by the name of Raven. The shaman's personal totem guide is on it, the raven," he indicated the bird etching, "along with the bonding spell etched on the back. 'Love knows no boundaries, my soul will find yours.' It's said the wearer can remove it, but it can't be taken from him."

He handed it back. "The legend also says that when each is worn by mated hearts, their love will protect them. The tribe practiced magic, symbols such as this held great power for them. Do you know where the other piece is?"

Logan held it in his hand and shook his head. "Don' even know where I got this one. I've had it a long time. Since...." He couldn't even remember that far back.

"Up until about 100 years ago, in the Northwest wilderness, if a woman gave you this, you would be considered her mate if you accepted it," Thomas explained. "Same thing for a man who gave the female counterpart to a woman. It was a form of marriage, as binding in the eyes of the tribe as a Christian ceremony. It's also believed to connect the couple to each other, even over long distances."

"Well, I ain' got the urge to go find a woman," Logan muttered. Damn thing was like a brand, was it? He slipped it back on and tucked it under his shirt.

Thomas regarded him with bland amusement. "My mother is very interested in these symbols. She has made a study of them over the years. Would you mind if I told her about yours? She might get in touch with you about photographing it. She's currently at work compiling a history of the Quapoa tribe. Unfortunately, the tribe has nearly died out. She may even know where the female piece is."

"How is your mother?" Hank inquired. "I have looked for her on-line, but she isn't spending much time there lately."

"Charlotte's in rewrites now. She's been overworked lately. Can hardly get her to admit the sky is blue, she hasn't seen it in a while."

"Lady Charlotte should take a breather and come visit me. I've been anxious to meet her. She has provided many helpful resources for my research into folk medicines."

'Lady Charlotte' rolled over Logan, echoing in his brain. It was so familiar, but he just couldn't make that leap. He stood up abruptly, his chair falling over. "See ya back home, Hank." He rushed off, throwing some bills on the bar. If it wasn't enough, Harry would let him know.

Hank looked worried, but shook it off. Logan was inexplicable most of the time. The sounds of his Harley revving up and speeding away stilled their conversation. He made a shrug of apology to his friend.

Thomas watched his mother's chosen consort through the window leave the parking lot at a dead run. Time for a long talk with the old lady. She had a lot of explaining to do.

[next part]

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