by L. R. W. Lee
“I brought her here when she never should have been. I did that to her.”
“You didn’t know. You can’t hold yourself responsible for what you’re blind to. You saw only opportunity. You didn’t know about secret magic much less what it would do.”
My head knows he’s right, but my shoulders droop all the same.
Harpoc reaches forward and, with a finger, draws my chin up. “If you’d have known what would happen, would you have read that scroll?”
I jerk my head away. “No, of course not.”
He bobs his head. “There you go. Lesson learned. It was a mistake you won’t repeat.”
“I’ll say.” But my heart still feels heavy.
I turn and my gaze sweeps over the sphinx’s still corpse once more. “I’m so sorry for bringing you back. It was an accident, you know that. If you can hear me wherever you are, I hope someday you can forgive me.”
Confessing to a dead sphinx is silly, but as I speak the words from my heart the guilt I’m feeling eases.
Harpoc gives me another of his warm smiles. “You okay?”
I bob my head.
“Then it’s time to take care of her.”
I furrow my brow.
“We can’t very well leave her here,” he says.
I scan the area not seeing any possibilities of burying something her size. “What’d you have in mind?”
“The great catnip fields in the skies.”
My eyebrows raise. “There’s—”
Harpoc laughs, which makes me laugh. It feels good to let go of some of my tension and angst. That’s why he says it, I have no doubt, and I gently punch his very firm bicep. “Thank you.”
He nods toward the sphinx, and I turn in time to see something near her head sparkle, then float up. More and more sparkles follow until a trail forms in the air above her and drifts skyward.
My mouth drops open the longer I watch. It’s like a host of fireflies migrating down her back, surrounding her legs and tail, slowly floating up, disappearing into the night sky. It’s magical to behold, and I choose to release the remaining traces of guilt along with it.
I turn back to Harpoc only once the last of her and the sparkles have disappeared. “That was nice, fitting I think. She’ll be forever free.” And so will I.
“Glad you approve.” He gives me a wink, then turns and scans the area. “You mentioned seeing this dig site, would you still like to in daylight? Seems we have the place to ourselves.”
“You mean like… like stay here tonight?” My voice rises, probably more than it should, relief contributing.
We certainly do have the place to ourselves. We’re completely alone… together.
“No doubt we can find a vacant bed or two.” A corner of Harpoc’s mouth hitches up.
It’s good that the flashlight’s inanimate because I squeeze it tight trying to control my hand’s twitching. Seeing this ancient site would be amazing, but… I bite my lip.
“You’ve been rather… secretive…” I hedge, unsure how to say this without him taking offense. “… like you don’t want me knowing more about you. Why would you want to spend more time with me?”
“Pell, I’ve never not wanted to spend time with you.”
Butterflies start tap dancing in my stomach, but I push them back, wagging my brows. “With my superpowers of observation, I might discover something you don’t want me to know about you.”
“You fancy yourself a super heroine, do you?” Harpoc’s smile can’t get wider.
“Absolutely. I’m saving the world from secrecy.”
“I believe I’m up for the challenge.” He pulls his shoulders back and chest out, as cocky as ever.
Game on. I grin to myself.
“Come on, I promise I’ll behave myself.” Harpoc winks as he draws his arm wide, inviting me to walk with him.
My face warms. I’m glad he can’t see how red I’ve turned in the dark.
Harpoc draws open the flap on the smallest—not a pup tent, but still smallish—tent, and my mouth goes dry.
He wags his brows as he says, “After you, my lady.”
I fist my free hand trying and failing to control my nerves, then step into his lair.
Yes, lair. Good name for it, Pell.
I hope he doesn’t notice my flashlight beam shaking as we both do a quick inspection that reveals a pair of neatly made canvas cots against opposing walls, separated by a stack of suitcases with a rechargeable lantern on top. Trunks stand at the foot of each cot along with several books, whether for study or pleasure I’ll soon find out.
“Looks like you picked the site managers’ accommodations,” I say.
“Only the best for you.”
I titter in response. I actually titter.
What is wrong with you, Pell? Get a grip.
I make a beeline for the cot dressed in a blue blanket to the right and sit before I do something really stupid.
Harpoc swaggers to the stack of suitcases and switches on the light before pulling off his duster and laying it across the trunk along with his flashlight. “Might as well get comfortable.”
As he turns, I can’t help but notice how his leather vest fits his trim frame very nicely and his butt...
Stop it, Pell.
I rise and shuck my coat off, doing the same, then quickly sit back down, hands in my lap. “So…”
Harpoc’s metallic eyes dance. My heart won’t slow.
“Do you enjoy reading?” Harpoc asks from where he’s lying, arm under his head, after several awkwardly silent moments.
I resist fiddling with my fingers. “I do. I prefer almost any kind of fantasy, but I’ll go for”—my face warms—“other genres once in a while if I’m in the mood.”
Yes, other steamy genres that I’m not about to divulge.
Harpoc sits up and grins like the Cheshire cat. “And do these ‘other genres’ have names?”
Seems I don’t need to specify. Alarm bells shriek in my head. Redirect, Pell, redirect.
I clear my throat trying and failing to stop blushing. “What do you like to read?”
He smirks, taking delight in my discomfort for entirely too long before replying, “I don’t get the chance to read much.”
“But when you do?”
“Oh, a little of this, a little of that.”
I furrow my brow. He says he’s a private person, okay fine, but why does that include secrecy about his reading habits? Give me a break.
I set my jaw. Enough. If we’re spending the night together, I’m going to find out more about him. No way am I sleeping with… near… someone who might be a, a… a spy—he knows some old language I’ve never heard—or, or… or demon—demons have wings, right?—or, or… dark, swirly… a dark, swirly I don’t know what.
But as I meet his beautiful eyes, butterflies launch in my stomach. I’m in deep, deep doo-doo with a very hot guy I’ve no hope of besting.
Redheads aren’t bimbos, Pell. Stop acting like a brainless nitwit and get him talking.
Right, right. I can do this, I will do this.
I take a calming breath and let it out slowly. I have questions, lots and lots of them, and I will get answers.
Harpoc brings his focus back to me after glancing about the tent.
“You spoke to the sphinx in a language I’m not familiar with. What was it?”
“You’re familiar with a lot of languages in your line of work?”
“Yes, and it didn’t sound like any of the ones I know.”
“How many languages do you know?”
Damn it, he’s diverting again. Fine, two can play this game. “Not enough apparently.” I resist growling, then put on my sweetest face. “So what language was it?” I wag my brows like he’s done a few times.
He brings a finger to his mouth and starts tapping.
Fine, I’ll come back to that one.
“If that sphinx was alive to have a secret recorded, what turned her to granite?”
H
e grins and continues tapping.
I fume under my breath.
“Fine, then tell me about this secret magic of yours that hieroglyphs are supposedly a part of.” I fist the blanket beneath me at his continued silence.
At length, he asks, “Are you done interrogating me?” He cocks an eyebrow. “As it happens, the more you know about me, the more danger I put you in.”
My stomach clenches. “Why? Are you a spy? A demon? With nefarious motives?”
His expression hardens.
Like he’ll answer truthfully if he is, Pell. I roll my eyes at myself.
He gives me a long look. “Have I done anything nefarious? Have I harmed you in any way? You ask me this when all I’ve done is taken care in bringing you here.”
“I nearly tossed my cookies.” I frown.
He dips his head. “Fair enough, the first time tripskipping can be unsettling.”
“Tripskipping? Is that what you call it?”
He ignores my comment and continues. “Other than that, have I harmed you in any way?”
“Well, no, but—”
“You’re very curious, Pell, that’s good in the right situation.”
Yes, like right now. “You said knowing more about you is dangerous. What if I want to live dangerously?”
A corner of his mouth hitches and falls again. “Let’s get some sleep. I promise I won’t hurt you while you slumber.” He chuckles as he eases off his boots with his toes and swings his legs onto the cot again.
A lot of answers I get out of him. I shake my head, then reach over and turn off the lantern.
This isn’t the end of it, not by a long shot.
Chapter Fifteen
Feeling someone staring at me, my eyes shoot open.
Kaz stands with arms crossed in the doorway of the tent.
“Ah, good morning, sir,” Harpoc says from across the way, sitting up. “Can’t say it was the most comfortable sleep I’ve had, but it did the trick.”
“Glad you availed yourself of my lodgings.” His voice drips of sarcasm.
I furrow my brow, sitting up and pulling my boots on. Kaz had been the nice one yesterday. What’s happened?
“How’s your man?” I ask. Perhaps a little personal relating will help.
“Hal is in critical condition after undergoing several hours of surgery last night to repair the tendon that connects his neck and shoulder. That thing did quite a number on him.” His shoulders droop.
Shit. This is my fault.
Harpoc gives me a knowing look, and the conversation we had last night limps back to mind.
“What’s his prognosis?” I ask, my mouth going dry nonetheless.
“The doctors are hoping for a positive outcome, but he may never have full use of his arm again. It’ll be touch and go for a while.”
I stand and approach, noting the dark circles under his eyes. “I’m sorry about your friend and for having intruded. I had hoped to tour the site as I’ve studied the Decree of Canopus extensively while learning hieroglyphics. It’s why we stayed. But here, let’s get out of your hair.”
I turn and grab my coat, heading for Kaz and the exit behind with Harpoc on my heels.
Kaz holds up a hand. “I’m sorry. Look, I’ve been up all night worried about Hal. I know this wasn’t your fault. You tried to warn us, but Hal’s kind of an independent, ornery sort who doesn’t like to be told what to do, and I have to say your story sounded pretty farfetched.”
I chuckle. “You’re not alone. I didn’t believe it either to begin with.” I put a hand on his arm as I stop beside him.
“I didn’t see that creature. Is it…?” Kaz says.
“It’s gone for good,” Harpoc replies.
Questions fill Kaz’s eyes, but a yawn wipes them away. “Go grab some grub in the command tent.” He covers his mouth. “The others are just getting back from the motel in town where they stayed last night after I kicked them out of the hospital. They should have breakfast ready soon. Help yourself and then have a look around. The site is quite a jewel of history.” He forces a smile.
“Thank you, Kaz, I’d like that. Again, I’m sorry about your friend.”
Harpoc and I walk the few steps to their command tent in silence, more of which greets us when we step inside. The subdued mood of the team morphs into frowns and scowls as we help ourselves to coffee, macaroni bechamel, and falafels.
I understand their anger. Most of them were smart and evacuated, so they didn’t see what happened. No doubt they hold us responsible for their leader’s condition.
Despite what Harpoc said last night about not taking responsibility for others’ decisions, I pick at my food, unable to keep guilt completely at bay. If only I hadn’t translated that scroll.
Harpoc soon digs into his second helping of béchamel, eating enough for the both of us. How can he not feel responsible?
I rub my thighs under the picnic table, across from him. The dig team’s given us a wide berth and eats in a clump at the other tables.
“You done?” Harpoc finally asks.
“Yes.”
I’m never so happy when he stands, gathers my unfinished breakfast, and disposes of our paper plates. “Come on.”
Turning to the others he says, “Thank you for your hospitality. I hope your leader makes a full recovery.”
With that he pushes through the tent flap and holds it open for me.
The sun has started climbing in the sky and several birds chatter, but despite the sunny morning, my chest is tight as we kick up dust on our way toward the temple ruins. In any other situation, I’d be like a kid in a candy store, thrilled to experience an opportunity like this, but my heart isn’t in it.
Halfway to our destination, Harpoc grabs my arm and draws me up short.
“Just like the sphinx, that man’s choice is not your fault.”
I open my mouth to protest, but he presses a finger across my lips.
“You brought the sphinx to life, yes, but you’re hardly responsible for its or that man’s choices. He could have evacuated with the others. He chose not to. On top of that, they tried to flee, which is how he got into that mess to begin with. They’d have been better off just staying put.” He clenches his jaw.
“But—”
Harpoc keeps his finger in place and shakes his head. “I’m sorry it happened, too, I truly am, but you can’t take responsibility for any of their choices.”
He lifts his finger and I look down at the dirt. Like before, his argument makes sense, but I still feel bad.
“Pell, it’s not wrong to feel bad, but that’s different than feeling guilty.”
I’m not responsible for anyone’s decisions but my own… no matter the outcome. The thought brings me up short.
Have I always blended the two? Feeling bad and feeling guilty? With my messed-up upbringing, it’s entirely possible. In fact, it’s probable. But with that distinction, a sense of peace flits over me because he’s right; their choices are no one’s responsibility but their own.
The tightness in my chest eases, and I take in a deep breath, pushing back guilt. I still feel bad, but I shouldn’t feel guilty.
I ponder for several more seconds and decide I can live with that.
“We don’t have to stay if you don’t want to. I can take you back, just say the word.” Harpoc’s eyes soften.
I study his face for signs of frustration at my propensity to take on guilt so quickly but find none. No, he’s not judging me.
He really does have a good heart.
I take another deep breath as I scan the field of overturned obelisks and stacked granite blocks, and my archeology juices start to flow—one cracked pot digging up another, true indeed. I laugh to myself. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
We stay.
Based on that experience with the sphinx, it seems Harpoc knows a bit about the ancient world, so he’s a good sport as I regale him with irrelevant trivia and stories about artifacts I’ve unearthed in my work
as we wander through the largest parts of the site; while many of the artifacts from here have been sent to one museum or another, there’s much about the ancient civilization still being discovered, and excitement overwhelms my melancholy in short order.
That and renewed curiosity, because there’s also the question from last night that I plan to get to the bottom of. The fact that he and the sphinx spoke in a language the two of them understood, but I sure didn’t, and I know a bunch.
Harpoc confirmed that hieroglyphs are part of his secret magic. Does it also give him knowledge of all sorts of languages? Is that why he could speak with the sphinx? That sure would be cool. And handy.
Perhaps I can wheedle the truth out of him today.
As we investigate the temple of Amun’s ruins, I get excited and point at a hole in the ground. “Oh, oh, look!”
Harpoc narrows his eyes.
“This used to be a water well, but not just any water well. See the markings on the lip and down the inside?”
“Yes.” He draws out the word, grinning at my excitement.
“It’s a nilometer.”
“Let me guess, it’s a water well that measures… nil, nothing?”
I snort. “Ni-lom-eter, not nil-om-eter.”
He throws his palms up in surrender. “Enlighten me.”
“In ancient Egypt, the Nile was very important to farming. During part of the year, the river burst its banks and covered the adjacent floodplain. When the waters receded, they left behind a black silt that made the land incredibly fertile.”
Harpoc bobs his head. “So this—” He smirks. “—Nile-o-meter?”
“Ni-lom-eter.” I roll my eyes. “It was connected through a tunnel to the Nile and allowed the priests to gauge flood levels. Too much or too little told them they had ticked off the gods and the pharaoh, as the earthly representative of the sun god, wasn’t doing his job.”
“Wouldn’t have wanted to be the priest who told pharaoh he was fired.”
I burst out laughing.
Harpoc looks about. “Why’s it here in the temple?”
“Having it handy allowed the priests to predict the volume of the coming flood, adding to their mystique.”
“I see.” His eyes light up. “So was there an Amazonometer or Yangtzeometer or Mississippiometer?”