Empire of Ash: A Passionate Paranormal Romance with Young Adult Appeal (God of Secrets Book 1)

by L. R. W. Lee

  “Hello, I’m Pellucid Rose and this is my”—I give Harpoc a quick look—“partner. I’m a third-year dig supervisor on the Mycenae, Greece excavation.”

  The pair continue staring. Mister Empty-Hands shifts.

  “Um, right. So we need to let you know that—”

  Harpoc scans the skies again. “A sphinx is about to ravage your camp.”

  I scowl at Harpoc. Leave it to him to mess this up with his crazy talk.

  The pair look to each other, furrowing their brows and Mister Clipboard says, “I don’t know who you are or how much you’ve had to drink, but you’ll need to leave. You’re in a restricted area.”

  I hold up a hand. “Sir, I know that sounds crazy, but please, hear us out.”

  The men both cross their arms.

  “All right, explain,” Mister Empty-Hands says.

  “I don’t know how many folks are here, but you’re all in grave danger. You need to evacuate. There’s a… potential threat looming.”

  Mister Clipboard exhales heavily.

  “She’s here,” Harpoc says, pointing.

  I, along with the other unbelievers, turn and squint. My overstuffed, baklava-filled stomach quivers when I make out a speck on the horizon, fifteen degrees west of the moon.

  No, it can’t be.

  Can it?

  Chapter Eleven

  Mister Clipboard scowls. “That’s a planet.”

  A planet? I squint harder, wanting to believe him. Yes, a planet. I’ve fallen for Harpoc’s story, but it’s just a planet. My brain’s addled by his hubba-hubba good looks.

  Harpoc’s metallic eyes turn cold. “That’s no planet.”

  Of course he’s not making this easy, I laugh to myself. He’s like someone else I know and love… me. I’ve never said anything disagreeable. Nope. Never.

  Mister Clipboard flares his nostrils and tension spikes. My stomach becomes a bundle of nerves, like happens when riding a rollercoaster—that slow, anxiety-building clack, clack, clack of gears as I near the top of the first rise. My legs twitch with nervous anticipation.

  My “partner” shakes his head, shifts his feet shoulder-width apart, and leans back. When he crosses his arms and starts tapping a finger against his lips I know we’re trying his patience. Tough.

  I’ve no idea who he really is, but he isn’t the Job of biblical renown whose wife tried his patience umpteen times. Get used to it, buddy, because I have a feeling Mister Clipboard is only getting started.

  “Uh, Hal…,” Mister Empty-Hands says, pointing. “It’s getting bigger.”

  Hal… he has a name.

  Hal turns a furrowed brow on his partner before looking again.

  I follow his gaze and my stomach rolls. Clack. Clack. Clack. Clack. He’s right. It’s gotten bigger. I fist my hands wishing I have something to dig my nails into because this coaster car is about to take the plunge.

  Harpoc just watches the speck, tapping his lips, but faster, seemingly waiting for us to get with his program.

  I look back at the aerial object that has grown larger still, then gaze across the pair of my peers and bite my lip. It seems we’re at an impasse.

  Why does it feel like I’m always in the middle of impossible situations? What about my DNA attracts conflict? I roll my eyes.

  Logic, Pell. Use your logic, I remind myself. Yes, I’m a scientist, a logical one at that.

  Okay… so if Harpoc’s right and we don’t get however many people are here out of harm’s way, they might get hurt. If we get people to safety and he’s wrong, worst case… My face will again match the color of my hair from embarrassment. It won’t be the first time.

  I sigh. Put that way, it’s a no brainer.

  I look between Mister Empty-Hands and Hal and in the sternest voice I can muster say, “You need to get your people to safety while there’s time.”

  Both men look at me… like men on digs always do… down their noses.

  Hal huffs, then inhales, winding up to level some stupid-ass claim as to why he knows more than me about everything—I know his type. Men, they’re all the same—but a growl follows a short roar through the night air and cuts him off.

  I inhale sharply, and we mere mortals take a very long look at the speck that has morphed to golf ball size.

  Harpoc purses his lips, then runs a hand through his perfect onyx hair as if he’s barely holding it together. I don’t know how much longer he’ll control himself, and my stomach goes hard. What will he do if he loses it? I really don’t want to see. There’s no insuring he’ll use his powers only for good.

  The roar and growls become a rumble, echoing across the still night, instilling the fear of whatever gods are out here in me.

  “Guys, you have to get your team to safety. Now.”

  Hal scratches his stubbled jaw, eyes glancing between his compatriot and the growing orb.

  I pinch my lips together. How much more convincing will it take to persuade this “Watson” he needs to act?

  For his part, Mister Empty-Hands rubs the back of his neck. “Hal, I think we should do as they say.” Yes. At least I’ve won Sherlock over.

  Another roar sounds, and Hal looks his partner up and down. “Fine, Kaz.” Two words, that’s all he says.

  About time.

  Harpoc exhales heavily and drops his hands as another roar and growl reach us. I know nothing about wild cats, much less a sphinx, but the sounds leave no doubt that such a creature is indeed on its way, and I’ve no doubt she’s one pissed lady. I’ve still no idea how Harpoc knows it’s female, but I’m not going to press it right this minute.

  We follow Hal and Kaz as they turn on their heels and head back to the tent where laughter greets us as Kaz throws back the flap. Clearly these people haven’t heard the animal’s rumblings above their jocularity.

  The command tent looks much like the one at my dig site with picnic tables running the length on one side and on the other, in a jumble of metal shelving units that have seen better days, an array of pick axes, sledge hammers, head lamps, plumb bobs, wooden spikes, and other equipment on the other.

  A dozen people, two of them women, nurse beverages at the picnic tables, but their laughter and drinking halts the instant they spot us. Elbowing and nodding, then silence ripple through their midst until, as one, they stare at us with quizzical expressions.

  “We found these two outside. They came to warn us of a threat. From the sounds we heard, I agree with them,” Kaz says. He goes on to give the Reader’s Digest version of what we just experienced.

  As he speaks, that panicked feeling that’s been eating at me eases as several furrowed brows morph, replaced by frowns then grimaces up and down the tables.

  Hal clears his throat once Kaz finishes. “I’m leaving it up to each of you to decide if you want to evacuate or not.”

  Idiot. Don’t give them a choice. That panicked feeling surges in my gut again.

  “Happy?” Hal turns to Harpoc and me.

  Ass.

  Kaz has the decency to at least look sheepish.

  Harpoc doesn’t comment, just glares as the tables empty.

  Before he can open his big mouth, I say, “Thank you, Hal. And thank you, Kaz. Hopefully they’ll all choose to leave because I’d hate to see anyone get hurt.”

  Hal rolls his eyes and heads out of the tent.

  I stifle a growl.

  “If you’ll excuse us…,” Kaz says.

  Another roar, louder this time, echoes over the landscape as we step outside again. The object has grown to softball size, and I inhale sharply as detail I haven’t seen before comes into focus: four feline limbs and a pair of wings.

  “Shit!” My heart accelerates.

  My companion forces a smile as if to say he didn’t want to be right. “Come on, we need to intercept it if any of them decide to stay.”

  He grabs my hand and, at a brisk walk, heads us toward what he said is the Temple of Amun on our way in. The three partial walls look mighty small if he intend
s for them to give us protection against what I see coming.

  As if to underscore my fears, another, louder roar rumbles over us, and I start to run. Harpoc follows my lead and races after but doesn’t let go of my hand when I tug. Actually, I’m glad. He’s the only one keeping me sane at the moment.

  I sneak a peek over my shoulder. The creature seems to be coming faster, and the moon now reveals the classic striped headdress of an Egyptian pharaoh. A feline tail flicks back and forth as it flies.

  I squint as I take a closer look at its paws. The left front one is missing; only a stump remains, and I swallow hard. It’s just like the Louvre’s sphinx.

  Shit. I run harder.

  Harpoc drags me through an opening between one of the three walls, then barrels right and stops before releasing my hand. I almost wish he doesn’t let go.

  Panting, I shake my head unable to comprehend the bizarre situation. It seems like forever ago since I discovered those scrolls, but it’s been only a few hours. How’s it possible my world’s been turned upside down in such a short time? Somehow magic and the fates have conspired to make this creature possible, and not just possible, but a reality, and now we have to deal with the consequences.

  Yes, the consequences… of my actions. My chest tightens.

  Harpoc squeezes my shoulder seemingly following the jumble of my thoughts. “Regret never helps, only action. You’re doing something to save these people, so you can feel good about that.”

  Wow, if I didn’t know better I’d say Harpoc has a heart.

  I look up into his eyes and inhale sharply. In this moment, the moonlight lights his eyes up, making them glow. Making them look exactly like the ones I always take comfort in.

  Harpoc looks down, suddenly needing to straighten the collar of his immaculate duster.

  Another roar, the closest and loudest yet, rattles my heart diverting my attention, and I peek over the wall.

  The sphinx is here and hovers not far away.

  Chapter Twelve

  The creature beats its wings, blowing sandy soil around, scanning the area a ways up the field, closer to my peers than us. According to Harpoc, it’ll be looking for the Temple of Amun, its former home. It huffs and snorts, leaving no doubt to its displeasure when it doesn’t find it.

  A shout rings out, piercing the darkness.

  Idiots! I clench my fists making out four archeologists racing toward a beat-up pickup truck. They probably thought this some crazy hoax and decided to stay put, then panicked when they saw the creature.

  You just can’t fix stupid.

  The shout draws the sphinx’s attention, and its huffing and snorting morph into snarls as it flies after them.

  Gods no! They’re a football field away from the only truck in the dirt parking lot.

  The sphinx catches up to them, then roars, directly above.

  I bite a fist not wanting to look, but I can’t look away.

  The men’s panicked shouts echo across the site as they scramble like roaches in light. It only makes the sphinx roar louder.

  I grab Harpoc’s arm and draw it close. Anything to make this stop.

  I shriek when, in the blink of an eye, the creature dives and snatches one of the men up by a shoulder with its overlong, dog-like canines, then takes off with the man bellowing and writhing in its grip.

  The silver and gold eyes aren’t working! I long to bury my head in Harpoc’s firm chest and have him wrap a strong, muscled arm around me. I only barely resist, admonishing myself instead. You’re better than this, Pell. Get it together.

  I grit my teeth as the guy’s peers race after the creature, shouting and waving, but the beast ignores them, flying several yards before landing. It drags the man until it lays down and draws its stumpy leg across its squirming prize.

  “Oh gods!”

  Harpoc reaches for me with his free arm just as the sphinx releases its bite on the man, long enough to sink its teeth into his neck. The man stops writhing.

  His companions yell as they catch up.

  Harpoc wrenches his arm free from my clutches and races back through the opening in our protective wall, his duster tails flying. I squeak, panicking, but he ignores me, intent on the scene of devastation.

  This is my fault.

  Guilt propels me up the field after Harpoc. I have to help him. He said he had “a couple ideas” of how to stop the creature.

  Please work.

  The three men are shouting and waving their arms, taking turns running toward the beast in an effort to chase it off, as I near. They’re certainly heroic friends; I doubt I’ll do the same if this is my dig team.

  While the creature doesn’t move, much less abandon its prize, the men’s efforts at least hold its attention so it doesn’t hurt their friend further.

  What can I do?

  I squeak as Harpoc skids to a stop maybe fifteen feet away from the beast.

  Way too close. What’s he think he’s doing? The voice in my head shrieks in panic.

  He throws his hands up, locking eyes with Demon Lady.

  This is your fault, Pell, join him, I command myself.

  But self-preservation and rational, scientific thought make me slow.

  Do it, Pell. Stop being a damn chicken and join him.

  I force my feet forward. Who’s acting crazy now?

  “Back away. I need her full attention,” Harpoc tells the guys, never looking away from the menace.

  The trio hesitates.

  “Do as he says,” I growl, finally stopping beside him. Thank the gods, my warning sees the three retreat.

  I only barely stifle a shriek as I take in the sphinx’s full measure. It’s even bigger than I remember. I feel like that mouse in the fairy tale, dwarfed by some big-ass lion. The fairy tale mouse gnaws the lion free of its bonds, and they become fast friends in the end. Can this situation turn out equally benign?

  I can only hope.

  My gaze takes in more of the creature. While bearing a human face, the sphinx’s coat is of fur, tinged pink in the moonlight, perhaps a holdover from the pink granite it’s been, who knows. I press fists to the sides of my head. Inanimate really has become animate. How?

  The Egyptian headdress I saw as it flew is the traditional striped cloth of blue and gold worn by the pharaohs, but the usual uraeus, the cobra emblem of divinity and right-to-rule, on the forehead is missing.

  “Hey, Lady.” Harpoc speaks in a soothing tone, hands still raised.

  The sphinx growls as it stares him down with its big yellow eyes. The trapped man still doesn’t move, but a pool of red that isn’t from the beast grows beneath its stump. The guy needs medical attention, and fast.

  “That’s it, girl.” Harpoc takes a step closer, then another.

  I only barely stifle a yip. Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop.

  My feet stay firmly planted; they won’t move even if I beg, this close.

  The sphinx flicks its tail, eyes still locked with Harpoc, slow step after slow step.

  A tremor rocks my body as terror shoots through me. This is far worse than any damn rollercoaster. How close will he get?

  Harpoc narrows the gap to four feet when the beast flares its nostrils—I suck in a breath—and scents the air.

  My limbs tremble as the creature draws several long draughts of Harpoc’s citrus-with-a-hint-of-cloves smell that I find so seductive.

  “That’s it. Scent me,” Harpoc says.

  Why does he want her to scent him?

  In an instant, her eyes narrow and she roars, then leaps up on three paws, and lunges.

  Harpoc pivots.

  I barely hold in a screech as the beast unfurls her wings, eyes intent on my secretive companion.

  He calls something over his shoulder that I miss and takes off running.

  Wings appear on Harpoc’s back and he launches, but not before the sphinx is nearly on him.

  I stand transfixed with horror until movement in my periphery draws my attention. The three guys are back and
racing for their companion.

  Harpoc’s drawn the sphinx off so they can attend to their friend. The thought makes my knees weak. He’s been so mysterious, but he really does have a heart, a good one it seems. I’ve seen it twice now.

  The three kneel and administer aide to their friend whose legs are now jerking about, and I exhale. He’s alive.

  I swing my gaze in the opposite direction, the way Harpoc heads, and my heart climbs into my throat. The beast flies at his heels at the far end of the field, where we originally stopped.

  I whimper, biting my nails.

  Don’t be a damn wimp, Pell, I scold. You caused this.

  I take off at a sprint.

  I start panting from running as Harpoc lands up ahead with the roaring sphinx still nearly on him.

  What’s he doing? Don’t stop! I want to scream.

  He spins around and both he and his wings disappear in a dark cloud of swirling shadows making me suck in a breath.

  He reappears behind the creature, who whirls around on its one good paw and lunges for him again.

  Shadows consume him anew, long enough for him to reappear several feet away.

  The beast roars its fury and makes to attack once more.

  I slow to a walk, sucking in air, disbelief hypnotizing me as the scene repeats itself time and again until the sphinx’s vocalizations rise, but its movements slacken.

  Harpoc reappears and his chest wheezes like a secondhand bicycle pump as he draws his hands forward, calming, placating the creature as I near, speaking to it in labored pants.

  I can’t make out the words until I’m maybe fifteen feet away, but even then, I furrow my brow. He’s speaking in a language I’ve never heard, and in my field I’ve heard plenty, but the phonetics and word endings are completely foreign to me.

  At least the sphinx stills, although it’s still clearly pissed because it flicks its tail erratically and its gaze never leaves him.

  Small mercy, it ignores me. I’ll just be a fly on that fallen temple wall.

  “Join us, Pell,” Harpoc calls, motioning me forward but never dropping his gaze from the beast’s piercing yellow eyes.