Vampire

by Kevin Ashman

  ‘You’re right,’ said John, ‘there is someone in there and they are coming out. Quick, we need to hide somewhere.’ They turned quickly and ran back down the passage before ducking into a side room.

  ‘Behind here,’ said Becky and they ducked behind a sarcophagus. They heard a bunch of keys rattling and peered over the sealed coffin as two men in white overalls walked past the entrance to the room.

  ‘You said there would be no one down here,’ whispered Becky.

  ‘How did I know they would be locked in?’ said John. ‘Whatever it is they are working on must be damned interesting. Come on.’

  ‘Where are you going?’ asked Becky.

  ‘I heard them unlock the door when they came out,’ said John, ‘but I didn’t hear them lock it again. I’m going in there.’

  ‘But they could be back any minute,’ said Becky.

  ‘This could be our only chance,’ said John. ‘Are you coming or what?’

  Becky hesitated a few seconds before following him to the doorway. John tried the handle again and this time it eased silently inward. They both stepped into the well-lit room and stood in silence before Becky finally spoke.

  ‘Bloody hell, John,’ she said, ‘just what is going on here?’

  ----

  Chapter Six

  Itjawi - 1245 BC

  The Caverns of Sekhmet

  Ramesses stood before the opening in the cliff above Itjawi.

  ‘Are you ready, Sire?’ asked Atmar.

  ‘As ready as I’ll ever be,’ said Ramesses, ‘you know what to do?’

  ‘I do,’ said Atmar.

  ‘By the time the sun rises, Atmar, I will be truly immortal. If I do not emerge alive, then use the full force of my armies to wipe these parasites from this world.’

  ‘Everything is ready, Lord,’ said Atmar.

  ‘Good, then it is time to meet my destiny.’ Without another word, he entered the natural entrance and walked through the rocky passages into the temple of Sekhmet. The path led downward into the heart of the hill and within minutes, two of Sekhmet’s acolytes joined him. He had expected to be taken to the audience chamber, but before he reached the familiar room, he was led in a different direction. Finally, he entered a small cavern and his ethereal companions left him alone in the room.

  The glow from the few rush lights placed around the room was hardly enough for him to see, and his eyes stung from the fumes of the burning tallow. Finally, he became accustomed to the poor light and he could see someone sitting amongst a pile of luxurious cushions at the centre of the room. With a deep breath, Ramesses stepped forward until he stood behind the hooded woman.

  ‘Well, Sekhmet,’ he said, ‘I am here.’ He waited patiently for an answer, but when there was no response, he walked around the seated figure to stand before her.

  ‘Sekhmet,’ he said, ‘what is this game you play? I am a king and it is not becoming of a king to be ignored.’

  The sitting figure lifted her hands and slowly pulled back the hood from her face before looking up at the king. Ramesses’ eyes widened in shock and he took a step backwards in confusion. Before him a beautiful young woman looked up at him with deep green eyes, as yet untainted by the black tinge that came from a diet of blood and raw meat.

  ‘Who are you?’ he asked, ‘Where is Sekhmet?’

  ‘I am known as Nephthys,’ said the girl.

  ‘Nephthys,’ said Ramesses, ‘the goddess of darkness, afterlife and immortality. Are you such a goddess?’

  ‘I am no goddess,’ said Nephthys, ‘but one day soon, I will join the immortals.’

  ‘And, how will you achieve that?’ asked Ramesses.

  ‘My mother will bestow me with that gift.’

  ‘Your mother?’

  ‘The goddess Sekhmet,’ said Nephthys.

  ‘Sekhmet is your mother?’

  ‘She is the only mother I have ever known.’

  ‘Then you are truly a lost soul,’ said Ramesses.

  A stench of death swept through the room and Nephthys stood to await the arrival of the old woman. Ramesses spun around to find Sekhmet standing a few paces away in the shadows.

  ‘Your method of arrival surprises me still,’ said Ramesses.

  ‘A skill long in the learning,’ said Sekhmet and nodded toward Nephthys who promptly left the room.

  ‘The child is not as you,’ said Ramesses.

  ‘She has not yet been initiated into our ways,’ said Sekhmet.

  ‘And will she be?’

  ‘That remains to be seen.’

  ‘Then why is she here?’

  ‘She was brought here as a gift from a worshipper when she was a child.’

  ‘You mean as a sacrifice.’

  ‘Yes. Many such gifts arrive at my temple from the enlightened.’

  ‘Yet she still lives?’

  ‘She does, for unlike the others, there is a spark of life about her. Her eyes are the pathways to her soul and even when she was an infant, her soul challenged mine.’

  ‘So you spared her?’

  ‘I did, though there is an ultimate price to be paid. But we get ahead of ourselves, Ramesses; first there is a bargain to be struck.’

  ‘There is,’ said Ramesses. ‘So let us begin.’

  A movement caught Ramesses’ eye and he turned to see a shuffling figure approach him carrying a stool. The figure was male and his naked body was covered with both healed and open wounds. His feet were tethered close together and his head hung low in abject despair. The desperate figure placed the stool near Ramesses, and returned the way he had come, without even acknowledging his presence.

  ‘Who is he?’ asked the king.

  ‘He is nothing,’ said Sekhmet. ‘He does not exist and does not deserve acknowledgement.’

  ‘Yet, he is a man,’ said Ramesses.

  ‘He was a man,’ said Sekhmet, ‘now, he just is.’

  ‘Those wounds bear the similarity of men attacked by beasts,’ said Ramesses.

  ‘My sisters need to feed, Ramesses.’

  ‘You keep him alive to drink from him as we do cattle?’ asked Ramesses in astonishment.

  ‘There have always been such souls, Ramesses. Many offer themselves of their own free will, desperate to be close to a god.’

  ‘There are more?’

  ‘There are many, but it leaves a sour taste in my mouth to discuss them so. They are but dogs to be treated as we see fit. Be seated, Ramesses,’ said Sekhmet, ‘it will be a long night.’

  Ramesses sat on the stool in the centre of the room while Sekhmet seemed to glide in amongst the shadows of the room.

  ‘State your requirements, Ramesses,’ she said eventually.

  ‘I want to know the secrets of immortality, Sekhmet;’ said Ramesses, ‘to know how you came to enjoy its embrace and how you maintain the blessing of everlasting life.’

  ‘Questions asked by many such as you,’ said Sekhmet. ‘Yet, answers I have denied them all. Tell me why you deserve this knowledge.’

  ‘For I am the greatest king this country has ever seen,’ said Ramesses, ‘and my feats to come will be like mountains compared to the termite mounds of those who went before me.’

  ‘A bold statement, but why would that affect me?’

  ‘Because you can be part of it, Sekhmet,’ he said. ‘Grant me what I seek and you can be part of this new era. Once your name was known across all lands, feared and revered by all, yet since the time of Amenemhat, your kind has hidden themselves away from the gaze of our people.’

  ‘You dare speak his name in my presence,’ snarled Sekhmet.

  ‘I know of your hatred of him,’ said Ramesses, ‘and tales of how he persecuted your kind have been passed from generation to generation. It is also said that he almost succeeded in wiping your species from this world.’

  ‘Oh, Ramesses,’ she said, ‘don’t believe the exaggerations of descendants living on past glories. Yes, there was persecution and yes, he sought out my sisters before slaughtering them and
scattering their ashes to the four winds. But as for eliminating me and those like me, then no, he wasn’t even close. It is true we were forced to hide like common criminals and I watched in fury as he ripped down my temples across the land and struck my name from the walls. But I have endured such ignominy before and no doubt will do so again. My kind is eternal, Ramesses and we will rise and fall like the tides of the sea. Over time, we will once more dominate and that is one thing that we have, an abundance of time.’

  ‘But why wait, Sekhmet?’ asked Ramesses. ‘Provide me with what I desire, and those days can be here within the space of a few seasons. I will re-enter the name of Sekhmet into our culture and encourage worship in your name. Temples will be raised once more to your glory and you will enjoy the trappings as befits a true goddess. Grant me this one thing, and your name will be spoken alongside Ra, Isis and Sobek.’

  ‘You promise much, Ramesses. Yet, it will take years to build the temples you speak of. My name may be spoken, yet I will still hide away in this place, feeding on the wretched and watching my sisters rot in their frustration.

  ‘Then let it be so, Sekhmet,’ said Ramesses. ‘Instruct me in your secrets and I can change this immediately. I have already given instruction to prepare a temporary temple for your reverence, a place where you can see the commitment of my promise.’

  ‘And where is this place?’ asked Sekhmet.

  ‘The tomb of Amenemhat himself,’ said Ramesses.

  Sekhmet stayed silent for a minute and then Ramesses’ flesh crawled as he heard her laugh.

  ‘Oh, that is good, Ramesses,’ said Sekhmet, ‘you are indeed a force to be reckoned with. Of all the places in Kemet, you have chosen the one place that you knew would appeal to me.’

  ‘Think about it,’ said Ramesses, ‘the last resting place of the king who caused you and your kind so much frustration. A lasting violation of his memory.’

  ‘You would do this?’ asked Sekhmet.

  ‘I will break the seal with my own hands,’ said Ramesses.

  ‘And his remains?’

  ‘Yours to do with as you wish.’

  For a while, Sekhmet remained silent, before speaking again.

  ‘I care not for such things,’ she said eventually, ‘but there are others who deserve to know the freedom of my youth. Those of us who have known nothing but the walls of these caverns should regain their place as gods amongst the people. So I will grant you your wish and tell you everything there is to know, but be warned, it may not be what you expect. Ask your questions, Ramesses, hell awaits.’

  ----

  Ramesses took a deep breath and started to ask the questions he had pondered all his life.

  ‘First of all,’ he asked, ‘are you truly immortal?’

  ‘If immortality is judged by a human lifespan, then yes, I am.’

  ‘How old are you?’ asked Ramesses.

  ‘I know not, but I was here before Amenemhat, before the pyramids and before your ancestors first walked these lands.’

  ‘How do I know you speak the truth?’

  ‘You don’t.’

  ‘Are you truly a god?’ asked Ramesses.

  ‘Yes, in human eyes, but there are no heavenly bodies that your kind revere,’ said Sekhmet, ‘they are all versions of me and others like me.’

  ‘There are others?’

  ‘There were, I know not if any still survive.’

  ‘So you can die?’

  ‘We cannot die, but we can cease to exist.’

  ‘I cannot see the difference,’ said Ramesses.

  ‘Give me your blade,’ said Sekhmet.

  ‘I have no blade,’ said Ramesses nervously.

  ‘Do not lie, Great king. It is beneath you. Give me your blade.’

  Ramesses retrieved the knife from beneath his robes and slid it across the floor to where he could see her shape in the gloom. Sekhmet stepped forward to pick up the blade and Ramesses watched in amazement as she pushed it through the palm of her hand without as much as a flinch.

  ‘Damage to flesh and bone kills humans,’ said Sekhmet. ‘I do not suffer such limitation. This blade gives no pain and causes limited injury. In a matter of days, it will heal. I don’t know how and I don’t know why.’ She withdrew the knife and threw it back across the room. ‘It is a blessing and it is a curse.’

  ‘How can this be a curse?’ asked Ramesses. ‘To not suffer death through injury, surely it is a gift.’

  ‘In the beginning it was,’ said Sekhmet, ‘but when you have lived as long as I, then sometimes you yearn for the peace of death. There is nowhere that I have not been, and nothing that I have not seen. Death is a journey desired, yet denied me.’

  ‘Surely that cannot be true,’ said Ramesses. ‘A wound that heals is one thing, but what if your head was removed from your shoulders?’

  ‘My body would be incapacitated, yet my mind would still be aware.’

  ‘And burning?’

  ‘I suspect that would end my physical existence, Ramesses, but as to my awareness, who knows? I have an awareness of those who went before me. Their spirits haunt me every day, they cry out for release from whatever hell awaits our souls, yet even though the pain of their souls torment me, I still envy their state. How I wish that I could die.’

  ‘Then why do you not do it?’ said Ramesses. ‘Why not cast yourself into the flames and end your existence?’

  ‘I have contemplated it, Ramesses,’ said Sekhmet. ‘Contemplated it so many times that there are no numbers to count them, but always there is the one thing that holds me back, the thirst for blood.’

  ‘Is this an addiction that all your kind shares?’

  ‘All are cursed so, and though we can live on the blood of animals, it is human blood that drives our needs.’

  ‘Is this the secret to immortality?’

  ‘Perhaps, but there is so much more. Look at me, Ramesses, I am an old hag with a thirst for human blood. I do not sleep and have not walked in daylight for thousands of years. Yet it was not always so. Once I was like others of your kind. I was born of woman and fathered by man. My early years were spent in a village far south of here on the edge of a great lake. It was so long ago, I barely remember them, but some things remain in my memory. I remember how I used to love gathering the fruit and seeds from the bushes with my mother, and how we would stop when the sun was at its hottest and she allowed me to swim in the lake. I also remember sitting with my family and eating the food that the women prepared when the men’s hunt was successful. Of course, the flavours and textures escape me, but I know that I relished them.’

  ‘And yet, here you are,’ said Ramesses. ‘Something must have happened to make you this way. Were you touched by the hand of a god?’

  ‘Oh, no, Ramesses,’ said Sekhmet, ‘nothing quite as mystical. I don’t know how, but I do recall the exact day my life changed. Whether it will help you in your quest, I do not know.’

  Ramesses maintained a calm exterior for at last, he was about to learn the secret of eternal life.

  ----

  Chapter Seven

  Itjawi 2012

  The Labyrinth of Amenemhat

  Becky and John looked around the subterranean chamber in confusion. The room was approximately fifty feet square with a vaulted ceiling more than twenty feet above their heads. There was only one exit; the one they were standing in, and the stone slabbed floor had been meticulously swept from any accumulated dust that had lain there since the tomb was first opened. All around the walls, dozens of fluorescent tubes shone their dazzling light into the room, and tables full of scientific instruments lined the walls.

  At the centre of the room, a new, inner space had been formed with aluminium framework, and sheets of hanging polythene from the ceiling above made the whole thing look like a miniature version of a circus tent.

  On a row of tables to one side, several monitors flickered blue lights across their screens, recording data of some sort and a further table contained microscopes, laptops and not
ebooks.

  ‘Look,’ whispered Becky and pointed into one corner. A row of plastic bollards connected by red and white chains isolated one small area from the rest of the room and circled what seemed to be a pile of old rags. ‘Come on,’ she continued, ‘let’s take a look.’

  They walked over and stared at the pile of rubbish before Becky gasped with realisation.

  ‘Oh, my god,’ she said, ‘it’s a mummy.’

  ‘Or what remains of one,’ said John, ‘it seems to have been ripped into pieces.’

  ‘Tomb robbers?’ asked Becky.

  ‘I wouldn’t have thought so,’ said John. ‘They would have simply burned it. Anyway, don’t forget, this chamber was still sealed until a few weeks ago.’

  ‘Surely these people wouldn’t have done this?’ said Becky.

  ‘No, why desecrate a mummy and then put a barrier up around it to make sure it’s not interfered with? It doesn’t make sense.’ John stepped over the chain and knelt down before the butchered corpse.

  ‘What are you doing?’ asked Becky.

  ‘Hang on’ said John, and pulling a pencil from his pocket, probed gently between the folds of the wrappings. Slowly he hooked it under a chain and lifted up a necklace to the light. Despite its age, the gold still sparkled as the amulet spun and the inlaid precious stones reflected light for the first time in over three thousand years.

  ‘It’s an Ankh,’ said Becky, recognising the cruciform shape with a looped top, ‘the symbol for eternal life.’

  ‘I know,’ said John, ‘but I have never seen one as ornate as this.’

  ‘These remains obviously haven’t been examined yet,’ said Becky, ‘there must be layers of jewellery between those wraps.’

  ‘I don’t understand it,’ said John, ‘Samari’s people have been here for weeks, so why haven’t they examined him or at least taken the remains to the museum.’

  ‘Perhaps they found something far more valuable?’ said Becky.

  ‘How do you mean?’ asked John.

  ‘Look at those,’ said Becky and pointed to where the black, snakelike cables wound their way across from the computers to disappear under the walls of the polythene tent.