by N. D. Jones
Ekon gripped the handle of the wicker basket tightly instead of hoisting Asha over his shoulder and marching her down the hill and away from the Temple of Sekhmet.
“You’re saying your plan, if not executed within a certain timeframe, could leave you a body without a soul or your body could become the vessel for the worst aspects of Sekhmet?”
“I don’t like the way you stated that, as if I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“You don’t. You’ve read and researched. That’s what you do. I don’t doubt you know everything there is to know about the invocation. None of which means you know exactly what’s going to happen in the temple once you get started. Tell me, in all of your research, have you read of any felidae performing the invocation ritual?”
“Mom once told me that mortals aren’t meant to carry the weight of a god’s powers.”
“Perhaps then you should listen to your mother.”
“I am listening to her.” Asha shivered as if a blast of freezing air cut through her body. She stared past him and into the temple.
Ekon followed her gaze but saw nothing but flickers of light from the Candles of Eternal Flames lining the walls of the temple. The setting and rising of the sun triggered the flames, their red glow the only light inside the structure.
He had no idea what she saw that he couldn’t. Whatever it was, it resulted in Asha stiffening her shoulders and setting her jaw.
Stubborn.
Resolved.
“The First Evolution Union Party will be in power for another fourteen years. Royster and London have Vumaris’s entire military to draw from, not only the Rogueshade. You know I want revenge. I won’t pretend otherwise. I recite the names of my enemies—a daily, corrosive mantra.” Her hand rose to the chest torn open by lion’s claws. “I can’t forgive. A weakness, most likely, but one I’ve decided to embrace. Even if I hadn’t, I will not permit Shona to fall like every other felidae nation. Humans are like sharks when they scent blood. At the slightest hint of weakness, they come in for the kill. With me as sekhem, they think Shona weak. I understand Tamani’s strategy to reveal what happened at Sanctum Hotel, but the consequences of her actions could prove fatal.”
Ekon hadn’t thought of the repercussions of General Volt’s decision to secure Asha’s safe return through the use of manipulation, intimidation, but also of the media. No Shona leader had ever been interviewed live on international television and revealed so much of Shona life and culture to outsiders. Not even Mafdet had interfered with the general’s plan. But desperate times were known to birth questionable decisions and actions.
“Mom and Dad’s assassinations and my kidnapping revealed to the human world a chink in Shona’s proverbial armor. To keep our borders secure, our people safe, and to minimize the perception of me being easy prey, especially when I travel abroad, I must send a message no one will soon, if ever, forget.”
“Divine retribution?”
“Yes. I will make them fear our kingdom. So much fear, Ekon, that the thought of challenging us will have them trembling. We won’t ever be prey again, not if there are steps I can take to prevent that from happening.”
Asha’s points were valid, even if they aided her self-delusions and granted legitimacy to her rationalizations. She wasn’t wrong about sharks, blood, weakness, and humans. Clearly General Volt possessed similar thoughts if the extra combat training she’d instituted was a clue to her unvoiced concerns about the potential for invasion.
“Violence, blood, death?” Ekon questioned, summarizing her contentions to three simple but impactful words.
“Yes, but not only those.” Asha freed the basket from his hand. “Safety, protection, love.” Slipping from her sandals, Asha entered the Temple of Sekhmet, her red wrap dress flowing behind her.
Red—Sekhmet’s divine color.
Red—the color of blood.
Ekon followed Asha’s lead and removed his leather sandals before entering Sekhmet’s sacred temple. Once inside, he pulled his bottle of red wine from the wicker basket.
The flames from the red candles cast a shadow, giving the illusion of Sekhmet’s statue as twenty feet tall instead of six. Kneeling in front of the figure, Ekon recited a prayer then offered the red wine, placing it at the statue’s base. Other offerings were already there—old flowers and even older pomegranates.
Asha knelt beside him. Removing a piece of heavy red velvet from the basket, she laid it out before taking her time and situating each of her offerings atop the fabric: red beer, frankincense, mushrooms, bloodstones, red roses, a pack of raw meat, a jar of sand, and a bottle of warm milk. She said her own prayer to the goddess—silent as Ekon’s had been.
Grasping her hand, Ekon brought it to his lips and kissed the palm. “Tell me what you need me to do.”
Asha had brought nothing with her, not even the books she coveted.
“The sun will rise in two hours. That’s how much time I have to invoke Sekhmet’s spirit . . . to recite her ten thousand names.”
Ekon blinked at Asha, an attempt to clear the fog her declaration had created. “Wait, that’s what you meant by ten thousand. That’s a myth. Sekhmet has many names, more than any of our other deities, but not ten thousand of them.”
“You’re wrong.” With care, Asha pushed aside the bouquet of withered yellow flowers and rotten pomegranates. Long, sure fingers ran over words chiseled into the base of the statue under Sekhmet’s bare feet: Speak my name and I will live.
“Mom knew. Not that I’d end up here seeking vengeance in her and Dad’s names. But she knew. She understood the importance of a sekhem aligning her spirit with that of the warrior goddess’s, of being focused of mind and of heart. Without focus, without faith, Sekhmet will not hear my voice, much less consider my plea. I know her names. I only hope I am worthy.”
What could a mortal possibly grant a goddess to prove their worth? Certainly not meager offerings available to anyone with the will and time to gather them.
“You may want to grab a prayer mat from the corner over there.”
Ekon did, getting one for Asha too. “Where do you want me?”
“As far away from me as possible but also away from the archway I’ll exit after I am imbued with her powers of divine retribution. Sunrise is when Sekhmet is the most powerful, which also means it’s when her harsher elements are the most lethal.”
The temple wasn’t bigger than the size of a large master suite, about three hundred fifty square feet, much of which was taken up by the statue and offering area.
Prayer mat in hand, Ekon decided on a spot south of the statue. From this vantage point, Sekhmet’s statue was to his left but in front of him. The position also gave him an unobstructed view of Asha and the archway.
“That’s a good enough location as any, I suppose. There won’t be any need to stay here while I’m gone. Mafdet will expect a report from you after I’ve left. You being in the temple with me and my promise of a swift report from you are the only reasons she isn’t here being an overprotective godmother.” Asha sat several feet from the statue, cross-legged and on the soft, gray prayer mat he’d given her. “Mafdet has never spoken of children, but I suspect she used to have her own. Be sure to put her mind at ease, Ekon.” Asha’s lips quirked up at the corners. “I should’ve kissed you before sending you away from me.”
“That can be easily remedied.” In seconds, Ekon was on his hands and knees and in front of Asha.
She laughed, and he loved the sound. But he loved the way she cradled his face more, her fingers toying with the stubble there before pulling him closer and grazing his lips with her tongue. Ekon sighed, opened his mouth, and waited for Asha to make the next move.
She did, sucking his lower lip into her mouth and biting it with an arousing sexiness that had him moaning and wrapping an arm around her waist.
Then finally, finally, she kissed him properly, her tongue in his mouth and her soft lips moving against his.
Ekon wanted to press her ba
ck against the temple floor and wedge his hips between her thighs.
“Will you permit us to be together, when my heart is no longer full of rage and vengeance? When Sekhmet’s bloodlust ceases to haunt my waking and sleeping hours? When my parents’ spirits are at rest? Can we be together then, Ekon, or will you claim, once more, that I’m not ready for us to become lovers?”
Ekon had promised Asha they would become lovers the next time she asked. He’d meant the words, but she obviously hadn’t taken them as a promise she expected him to uphold regardless of the circumstances surrounding her proposition. She’d outlined criteria under which she would be “worthy” to become his lover—an emotional prerequisite he would’ve never suggested but one he appreciated because it would make the moment about them.
In Sekhmet’s temple, this moment was about Asha and her parents, not about Asha and Ekon.
“When you’re ready, I’ll come to you in any form you prefer.”
“You tempt me.” Asha nibbled his jaw. “I do love your lion form.” Her hand slipped around his neck and pulled him in for a long, wet kiss. “But, for our first time, I want this Ekon. Your mouth.” She kissed said mouth. “Your hands. Your . . .” Asha laughed when he caught the hand moving south. “You should return to your prayer mat before we forget where we are and why.”
She sounded like Ekon’s old Asha. For that to last, Asha needed to exorcise her demons. He didn’t know if he wanted the invocation to work or not. Which result would bring Asha fully back to herself? Which one would condemn her to another year or more of psychological torment?
Giving Asha one more kiss, a too short exploration of her neck, Ekon settled himself again on his mat. He would do as she asked. Ekon assumed, once imbued with Sekhmet’s divine retribution spirit, Asha would use the goddess’s power to go in search of the men who’d wronged her and her family. Ekon would report to Mafdet then return to the temple. He’d packed his truck with supplies before he’d left home: sleeping bag, fruit, water, sandwiches, flashlight, and CD player with CDs, headphones and extra batteries.
Ekon watched Asha. Her hair reminded him of her father’s lion’s mane—curly, big, and dark brown with gold highlights. Palms of hands on her knees, she sat with her back straight, eyes closed, and face turned in the direction of Sekhmet’s statue.
Ten thousand names in two hours. Will that be enough time? She has no notes. She couldn’t have memorized all ten thousand names, could she?
“Goddess Sekhmet, you are ancient and wise. The Kingdom of Shona stands as a free and independent nation because of your strength. We breathe because your sun has granted us life. You are known by many names, for you have touched the minds, hearts, and souls of all felidae. We may not all speak the same language or all call Shona home, but felidae from every corner of the planet honor you in prayer and in deed. We are your children, and you are Mother of the Gods, the Source, Powerful of Heart, and Ruler of Lions.”
Four names, and a hell of a lot more to go. Apparently, Asha had memorized every one of Sekhmet’s names, not that Ekon could imagine there being ten thousand of them. It wouldn’t have hurt, though, if she’d brought her notes.
“You can read my heart and my mind because you are Most Strong and Lady of Strong Love. You know why I am here, why I’ve come to you on the one-year anniversary of my parents’ murders. Pure One. Only One. When I dream, I see my parents. Beside them, I also see you, Lady of Many Faces, Mother of the Dead. This past year, I’ve known grief. I’ve been weak. I’ve cursed and cried and wished for vengeance and death. This you, too, understand, She Who Perseveres in Times of Struggles.”
He thought Asha would simply state Sekhmet’s many names. Doing so would’ve been the quickest strategy but, as he listened to her outpouring of pain and hard truths, there was no strategy to be found with Sekhem Asha. Sure, her mind was as quick and as tactical as anyone’s would be with Sekhem Zarina and Khalid Bambara as their tutors and role models. But the young woman had approached the invocation without a hint of self-protection or calculation. Asha had come to bare her soul, apparently, and perhaps that was why she questioned if the goddess would find her worthy.
With such innocent vulnerability, how could the goddess not?
“Dad taught me the importance of friendship and family, Unwavering Loyal One. Such lessons are easier learned when raised in a household of love, where intellectualism is valued but not above kindness. You are Lady of the House of Books. I have traveled beyond the confines of my mind when I read, but it is at home with my friends and family where I am the happiest.”
Ekon glanced at his watch. The flames from the eternal candles were beginning to wane as the dawn of a new day approached. Even if the invocation didn’t bring forth Sekhmet, he was so proud of Asha. Not only had she lowered the drawbridge to her fortified castle, she’d obliterated the structure stone by stone, leaving nothing but a nineteen-year-old young woman who loved and missed her parents.
“I beseech you, Great One in the Places of Judgment and Execution, come forth. I beseech you, Satisfier of Desires, Drier of Tears, come forth. I beseech you, Overcomer of All Enemies, come forth.” For the first time in almost two hours, Asha’s eyes opened, and she stood. “I beseech you, Victorious One in Battles, come forth.” Asha stepped forward, her hands outstretched toward the statue. “Sekhmet of the Knives. Burner of Evildoers.” Palms touched the statue’s lion face. “Devouring One, Terrible One, I invoke your ten thousand names. The Awakener, Sekhmet, Beloved Teacher. I invoke you.” Tears fell but Asha’s hands and words didn’t falter. “Sekhmet, Lady of Radiance, Revealer of the Ancient Paths, I invoke thee. Come forth, my goddess, come forth.” Asha’s forehead lowered to the statue’s chest, just under the lion mouth. “Finder of Ways, Keeper of the Light, Lady of All Powers. I invoke you, Beloved Sekhmet. Awaken. Awaken. Awaken.”
The sun rose, the first rays of light heralding in the new day. Out went the Candles of Eternal Flames, casting the temple in semidarkness. No sounds or smells penetrated the temple’s walls—an unnatural phenomenon Ekon couldn’t explain.
He rose but stayed where he was.
Asha had recited every one of Sekhmet’s ten thousand names, her voice no less sure and strong on the last name than it had been on the first.
Ekon watched and waited. The air in the temple felt unnaturally stale and muggy. The hairs on his nape and arms rose but the odd sensation he sensed didn’t raise his hackles.
“Asha,” he whispered. “Are you all right?”
No answer.
Ekon lifted his foot to move toward Asha but stilled at the sight.
The granodiorite statue crumbled. Not slowly or even in parts but at the same time and completely. All the while, Asha remained where she was but not under her own power.
A woman’s arms with clawed hands held Asha close. Very close, so close that Asha’s body melted into the other woman’s. No, not melted but merged.
Ekon stumbled backward.
The woman turned to him—her golden lion’s face no longer frozen in granodiorite. Fur and bone. Asha had invoked the warrior goddess. Braids fell past breasts, claws curled, golden eyes glowed, and Asha’s bloodred wrap dress fit every curve of the goddess’s divine form.
Asha had been worthy, her plea accepted. She’d awakened the deadliest part of the goddess. Yes, Asha had been worthy, so worthy Ekon knew her unspoken sekhem name.
“Sekhem Sekhmet . . .?”
The lion-headed goddess turned to him and nodded. Her solid form thinned around the edges, her tail whipped, and her eyes shimmered from red to gold. Rubble crunched under bare feet. More of her form thinned like a receding tide from a shore—vanishing.
Ekon was losing her. “Asha, don’t—”
She disappeared.
Chapter 13: Lady of Slaughter
The Republic of Vumaris
Lower North Ngaso
Motel Escape
“You’re beautiful. Come back to bed.”
Mirrors didn’t lie but h
orny men did. Savannah couldn’t help it; every mirror called to her. The one in the motel room was no different. Bathroom door open and she inside, she stood in front of the full-length mirror that hung on the sturdy door. Most women when standing naked in front of a mirror would examine the shape of their ass, the lift or sag of their breasts, the fine lines on their face, the size of their stomach, or even the V of their sex.
Not her.
For the past year, when Savannah neared a mirror, she would stop, stare at her mouth and jaw, and recall how she’d gone from truly beautiful to damaged goods. A year. Had it been only twelve months? It felt longer. The number of surgeries she’d had and painkillers she’d consumed made the single year seem like a dozen.
Large hands encircled her waist. Tongue and mouth sought her neck. Kissed. Licked. “You’re gorgeous. Don’t worry about the scars. You have a great plastic surgeon because they’re barely noticeable. You survived.” Dick pressed into her ass. “That alone makes you badass and sexy as hell.” Cade spun her around and kissed her. Not on the mouth. He knew better. She didn’t kiss or give him blow jobs. But Savannah did permit Cade to fuck her in the ass, so he didn’t much care that her mouth was off-limits.
Well, off-limits to him, not to Javier. She owed her husband. As angry as he’d been because, well, he was always furious when he’d learned she’d taken another lover, Javier had felt sorry for her enough to stay. He’d scheduled every one of her doctor’s appointments, held her hand after each surgery, and even cried with her when she’d seen her face after the first operation. The man was loyal to a fault. His dad had been a shit husband and father, so Savannah supposed Javier thought he could make up for what his father lacked by staying with a wife whose childhood was worse than his.
Savannah loved Javier. She truly did. Her heart would shatter if he ever left her for good. But what Javier didn’t know wouldn’t hurt either of them.
Cade’s mouth descended to her nipples, sucking with a greedy roughness she’d long since stopped trying to convince Javier she liked. His beard scratched, leaving red marks, and she liked that too.