The Pharaoh's Mistress

by Aderyn Wood

  If the cold does bother him, he doesn’t show it. A mix of anger and frustration streams from him. He has every right to be angry. I would be too… if I were human. I must remember that. I must hang on to my humanity. It has returned to me more firmly now. It always does after… Rather than force the guilt down, I hang on to it. Michael says the guilt will help prevent me from becoming an outright monster. Though it didn’t help the young guesthouse boy. Hany, that was his name.

  Michael heads to one of the car rental places, but I grip his arm. “Not there.”

  He turns to me with a frown. “What do you suggest?”

  I point to the harbour not twenty yards away where a handful of tour-boat companies are set up.

  “Boat?”

  “I have a theory.”

  “What?”

  “Over the water, I can’t sense as much. I think it restricts our powers.”

  Realisation shines in Michael’s eyes. “You think it might block Amynta too?”

  I nod.

  Michael shakes his head. “We can’t afford it.”

  “Yes we can.” I stride toward the nearest motor yacht tour company. There is a small stall and beyond it at the end of a jetty sit two large vessels. Perfect.

  “Emma, stop. Amynta—”

  “Will not expect us to travel by boat as she does.”

  “How do you know? Can you read her mind now?”

  I glance at him. His expression is pained. I don’t need to be a mind-reader to see the hurt inside him. A new emotion rises in me and it takes me a moment to realise that I am growing irritated with Michael’s reactions. “She estimates our movements based on the predictability of a human’s judgement. It is time the vampire among us started making choices.” I turn before he can respond and stride the few steps to the smiling attendant.

  “You would like to book a tour, Madam?” The tour-guide asks.

  Michael’s bewilderment and anger are almost over-powering and I do my best to ignore him as I lock eyes with the attendant before he begins to fear me.

  “We need a ride to Cairo.”

  The man’s smile fades. “We have tours locally, around the bay. I’m sorry, but there are no tours to Cairo.”

  I stare at him and force his mind to me. Within seconds something snaps, an invisible line of power, and his thoughts open. He is a young father, his first child but days old. “You will take us to Cairo. No payment required.”

  The man nods with a slack-jawed stare.

  “Emma!” Michael hisses behind me.

  I ignore him and keep my focus on the man. I narrow my eyes and concentrate. “Tell me your name.”

  “Farouk.”

  Farouk is probably the same age as me, late twenties. He has brown hair and honey-coloured eyes and I wonder how much of the ancients of Egypt are mingled within his bloodlines.

  “We will require a cabin under-deck.”

  “Madam, the upper cabins offer a much better view of the sights.”

  “No. Below deck. We leave immediately with no other passengers. If any of your co-workers have questions tell them to speak with me.”

  “This is folly.” Michael paces in our cabin as he constantly readjusts his glasses.

  The cruise yacht has picked up speed now that we have left the harbour, and I am glad for it. Glad to get away from both Amynta and Hany’s bloody body.

  “She will know.” Michael’s panic bubbles up and nearly spills from his very pores. He’s been through a lot since he met me, but always he remains calm. This frantic state seems out of character. The large double bed sprawls between us and he glances at it constantly.

  I lean forward and use a low, calming voice as Michael has often employed for me. “She will know whatever route we take. I’ve been to Egypt before. Believe me, the river will offer us some small protection, and provide a quick route without the bother of Egyptian traffic. It will be more scenic too.”

  “We don’t need the bloody scenery,” Michael nearly shouts as he runs a hand through his hair. Then he stops his pacing and looks at me squarely. “Can you feel her now?”

  I close my eyes. An unnecessary action, but sometimes, especially after I have fed, I feel almost human, and the old habits return. I concentrate, extending my senses. Amynta I cannot feel, perhaps my guess is right and the black waters of the Mediterranean have severed our connection. But then a new sensation comes to me. There is someone else, faint but familiar, and I am reminded of his blood – thick, hot, with a strange energy. I open my eyes and stare at Michael.

  “What is it? Can you feel her?”

  “No, I feel another.” I stand and walk a few quick paces just as Michael has been doing since we entered this cabin. “But it’s impossible.”

  “Who?”

  “Hercules.”

  “Hercules?”

  “Vincent’s human brother. I think of him as Hercules because… Well, he was built like a brick shithouse.”

  Michael’s eyes widen. “I saw him with Amynta on her boat, it must’ve been him. How is he alive? You drained him completely. He was blue when we left.”

  “I don’t know, but I can feel him.” Excitement rushes and I smile like a child with a new toy. “Extraordinary!”

  “Wait, you feel him despite the water?”

  My excitement dies. “Yes.”

  “We are not so safe then.”

  “I don’t know. I was sure it dulled my senses before.”

  Michael gives me a stare and the old light of curiosity flares in his mind. “You’re stronger now. You grow stronger with every new feed, and I think another talent has awakened to you. Vampires can track their victims. I’ve read as much. Can you sense what he’s doing, this Hercules?”

  I focus my mind once more. “Reading a map of some kind, I think.”

  “You can detect that?”

  “Yes. It’s as you say. My powers seem to grow with every new…”

  Michael slumps in a chair.

  “I’m sorry, Michael.”

  He gives a weary look and holds his head in his hands. “It is your nature. You’ve done well to keep it so controlled. You were hungry. I should have returned earlier with the vodka.”

  “I’m not sure it would have helped.”

  Michael pats down the cowlick at the back of his head. It pops up regularly, as though it has a mind of its own.

  The guilt rises once again as I think of Hany, and what I have done to him. My hand finds the silver chain about my neck and it lightly sears my fingers. Little good it did to protect Hany. He was just a boy, his whole life ahead of him. “Do you think he will be all right?”

  Michael had administered first aid as best he could. The youth was breathing when we left him; but he was unconscious, and I was unable to influence his mind – to wipe his memory of the horror. There was no time to influence anyone in that guesthouse. When they found him, we would either become wanted criminals, or lost to the multitude of cruel acts that occurred in every city every day.

  “Perhaps you can sense him?” Michael looks up with hope in his eyes. “With your new-found skills. You did it for Hercules, you might be able to do it for Hany.”

  Hope rises and fights the guilt inside me. I close my eyes again, this time focussing on the guesthouse youth. I remember the way his blood tasted. So very sweet. But all I get in return is a void of cold, gaping darkness.

  The cruiser moves at a swift pace, and by midnight we enter the Delta to begin our navigation up the Nile. Michael tries to stay awake to read the images he took of some ancient text from the library in Alexandria. He mumbles something about Asha, but when I question him he shakes his head. His eyelids grow heavy, and in another few moments his head nods as he falls to sleep in the chair. I take the little book called the Foliss Abesse from his hand, remove his spectacles and place them on the bedside table. I lift him whole, as easily as I would lift a child and drape him carefully on the bed and nestle a pillow under his head. The strong scent of sunshine wafts from him and
it comforts me more than I can say.

  I now sit reading from the Foliss, a fresh glass of vodka in my hand, and I learn more about this new state of mine. I am vampire. It no longer seems so strange. I wonder if I’m beginning to like it. I wonder what it is I desire most. Sometimes, when the guilt is strong, I wish to end it all, to kill the monster within. Flashes of the guesthouse youth return to me. Of the billowing blood, hot, sweet and sticky. Of the fear on his young face before his eyes closed. The guilt tightens like a noose. I don’t dismiss it, but I gulp the vodka down. It burns and numbs both instinct and emotions.

  I focus my gaze back on the Foliss and read from its ancient pages. The vampire has strong powers of persuasion. Seduction is the tool of choice. Lust and love come readily when called.

  I snap my attention to Michael and watch him sleep. He looks like an angel. His fair hair and features so artful. Somehow, the goodness within him radiates most when he sleeps. It is a great comfort to me most nights. Often, I want to curl up into his embrace and feel his goodness surround me like a well-loved blanket and forget, if only for a heartbeat, what I have become.

  The lust has freed its grip of Michael, allowing him to slumber in peace. But it will return by the dawn. I know he will dream of me. And his desire will fill the cabin like a thick cloud.

  It is just as Nathaniel wrote in his diary with the gypsy and her powers of seduction. Have I become like her?

  “Asha,” I whisper.

  Michael stirs, rolling over, knocking his tablet to the floor, but his sleep isn’t broken and his breaths soon grow regular once more.

  I step over and pick up the tablet. Images of old-world font show on the screen. I scan the text, my attention drawn to the imagery of a cedar forest and ancient tribes whose spiritual leaders took samples of blood from children as a cure for potential ailments. I shake my head slowly at the familiar scene. Imagery from my dreams.

  Cure.

  I step to the chair on the other side of the cabin and pick up my vodka as I sit. My thoughts return to the gypsy woman. Is she what I hope to find in the east? And if that is so, what will she teach me? Will she reveal the full extent of the monstrosity I have become, or something else? Will she show me how I may escape the evil that plagues me?

  And what of Amynta? The slayer seeks Asha as her ultimate prize. She revealed as much to Michael. Perhaps if Amynta slays Asha, there will be some unknown consequence. And what of the pendant Asha wears? A vial of blood if Nathaniel is to be believed. Michael thinks it relevant.

  I dare to hope it is some kind of cure for this affliction. But even if it is, how would I live with myself knowing what I have done? My mind turns once more to the youth and the sweet taste of his blood. At that moment a strong ribbon of lust emanates from Michael and I know of what he dreams. I swallow the last of the vodka, and step outside to walk the deck for the final hour before dawn. Cairo draws thankfully closer, and Georgette will meet us there, but following that our destination remains a mystery.

  Chapter 6

  Excerpt from Dark Ones, by Faustus Gavius

  There is much I have discovered concerning the nature of vampires, and there is much yet to learn. Why does the Young One suffer such voracious appetites, yearning so desperately for the taste of blood, yet after a century or so the need for replenishment loses urgency, so that Old Ones need only feed every few weeks. Even more curious is that state of elongated dormancy which affronts vampires most commonly at the onset of their second century. Why must the vampire hole themselves down in darkness, in a tomb, essentially for decades, before they rise in another era, an Old One with renewed powers, to devour the innocent once more?

  Most intriguing of all is the question of origin. Where did the Dark Ones begin? And what does the future hold for vampire-kind? I’ve traversed this planet, scouring the very Earth for answers. The burial places of Egypt offer insight, though more often than not they raise more questions than answers.

  Tombs have poetry and spells inscribed on their walls, not unusual for that era, and one such verse gave me clues. To the best of my knowledge it was written by a Priestess of Hathor. Many such verses line the walls of a secret cavern in the deserts of Egypt, and illustrations depicting a great cataclysm to come accompany verses such as this…

  Come, give your blood unto me

  For I shall deliver it

  Over the waters of Death

  Where the wind of mortality dies

  There within the darkness

  Hathor’s priestess sings a song of joy

  For she awaits the coming reckoning

  Upon which the blood of the dead

  Will provide the sacrifice

  And the Lord of Chaos shall rise up

  And inherit the realm of men

  The unfaithful shall be devoured

  blood and soul

  Michael woke in a state of breathlessness from yet another lust-filled dream to find Emma lying beside him. She slept, though she didn’t breathe like a sleeping person. She didn’t breathe at all. He rubbed his eyes and reached for his glasses. The longing from the dream still lingered and his gaze quickly sought Emma once more. Her elfin features gave her an innocent beauty, making her appear harmless, vulnerable. Someone who needed his protection.

  He yearned to reach out and touch her alabaster skin. But he’d done that once before, in the crypt, and he’d never risk it again. Michael kept his hands close. It was dangerous to be so near a sleeping vampire. When woken suddenly, their self-control was at its lowest. The sense of threat only made them lash out in a most deadly way. She’d almost killed him in Italy.

  Emma’s arm twitched, and Michael jolted. He kept as still as possible and turned his gaze to study her face. She wore a frown and her head moved from side to side. A small moan escaped her lips. Vampires weren’t supposed to move in their sleep. Vampires weren’t supposed to dream.

  Michael frowned as he gently moved to the edge of the bed, his desire still too strong. He should have better considered their sleeping arrangements. He stood and headed to the bathroom with light steps.

  It was still morning when Michael, freshly showered and shaved, climbed the narrow stairwell to the upper deck and blinked into the bright Egyptian sunshine. The morning air retained a crisp coolness, but noon approached and the day was warming nicely. He stared down at the water. It was the first time he’d ever laid eyes on the mythic Nile. Its waters were dark blue. The banks were green with palm trees and numerous other plants and various crops beyond, extending to the horizon.

  “Good morning, sir.” The attendant appeared before him with a wide smile. “Your companion tells me I am to treat you like royalty.”

  Michael adjusted his glasses. “Ah, that won’t be necessary.”

  “Do not mention it, sir. It will be my pleasure. Please go to the dining cabin for your breakfast whenever you are ready.”

  Michael cleared his throat and narrowed his eyes to read the man’s name on his badge. “Thank you, Yossef.”

  Yossef inclined his head. “Of course. The dining cabin is on the second deck.”

  “Ah, the matter of payment for our journey—”

  “Please, do not mention it. All has been arranged with your companion.” Yossef waved his hand up in a dismissive gesture before flashing another white-toothed smile and walking off to attend some other duty.

  “Yes,” Michael whispered. “But my companion’s arrangements won’t fatten your wallets.”

  Breakfast was a simple affair of poached eggs and sausage. Another young attendant named Kallum waited on him and Michael grew more concerned at the expense they were causing this honest host of workers who should have been making a profit on a large group of tourists rather than just the two of them.

  “How many people can this vessel accommodate?” Michael asked Kallum as the young waiter poured his coffee. The aroma of it made Michael’s mouth water. The coffee was good, and his breakfast looked perfect. Tours with this company wouldn’t be for the budget t
raveller.

  Kallum’s eyes lit up with enthusiasm as he answered. “We carry a maximum of thirty guests on any one tour. Our Shakra is famous for providing the highest quality experience with many spaces for meeting other guests and socialising as well as offering nooks for private retreat.”

  Michael studied Kallum as he spoke. He was young, about the same age as Hany, the guesthouse porter in Alexandria, and Emma’s latest victim. They also shared certain facial features. Both had slim long noses, narrow chins and small eyes the colour of honey. Michael’s fingers tingled ever so slightly at the comparison. “Have you met my companion as yet, Kallum?”

  “No, sir.”

  “It is well you do not. She is rather… averse to people.”

  The youth smiled as though Michael spoke a strange jest, making Michael grip his hands together rather than reach out and clutch the youth’s collar and shout at him that under no circumstances was Kallum to find himself alone with Emma. But the young waiter left him to his breakfast and the moment passed.

  Michael finished eating and sipped his coffee as he checked his tablet for emails. Still no word from Emma’s family, and Michael breathed easy. He felt bad about taking the rather handsome payment the earl had given him yet keeping them in the dark about his progress. He, or Emma, had to decide what to tell her father and sister. But what and when remained unknown. Emma’s future, if she had one, was veiled in a dark and unwelcome shroud of mystery.

  There was only one new email, from mail@chat_bizarre. Georgette. Michael looked over his shoulder. A silly gesture, for he and Emma were the only passengers on the cruiser. The crew had been brainwashed by Emma so heavily they were nothing but walking zombies and the banks of the Nile revealed only large stretches of greenery. They were between cities, or villages. Not even a fishing boat could be seen.