House of Scarabs

by Hazel Longuet

  They'd spread maps across the campaign table. Tjati and Eurydice, oblivious to the vicious heat under the canvas canopy, perused the maps, trying to define the most likely route the trio would take. They had spies at every point along the Nile, on every route from Kom Ombo to Luxor. However they were travelling, be it by car, airplane, helicopter, train, or donkey, if the trio were heading to Luxor, they would find them.

  The satellite phone rang, the loud pealing startling them before Eurydice jumped to answer it. She murmured quietly before turning with bright eyes to Tjati.

  "We've got them. They swapped boats. They are on a smaller boat with Sam."

  Tjati nodded, turning to reach for his combat bag. "Tell them to keep the boat under constant scrutiny but not to intercept it. I will head up this mission." He sorted his bag whilst Eurydice ended the call.

  With the heavy bag on his shoulder, he turned to Eurydice. "I need to know I can depend on you, as my second, to complete the mission should I be unsuccessful. I need your troth, Eurydice. Under the pure gaze of God's eyes, you must promise me to finish the job our families committed us to so many generations ago."

  Eurydice's watery old eyes gazed up into his hawk-like stare. "I swear my troth to our cause to complete the final mission of the Guardians of the Ankh, to destroy all members of the House of Scarabs and their descendants. I swear this troth under the merciful and true witness of Allah. May He be merciful upon us." She lowered her head and kissed Tjati's hands. "I have lived a long life, all of it dedicated to the service of the Guardians of the Ankh. I have forgone a family, a husband, and my true place in society, hidden and invisible within it. This I have done, and this I will do. You can trust in me, Tjati, as I trust in you. Complete your mission, and we can celebrate tonight inshallah."

  He stared down at her for some time before patting her deeply lined cheek and leaving the tent.

  Healing

  The inky blackness of night had long since wrapped the land in its sleepy embrace. The star-clad heavens provided the night's only light, which twinkled on the Nile's dark surface as the gently lapping waters provided the evening’s soundtrack in an otherwise silent movie.

  Sam hummed to himself as he guided the boat towards their final destiny. He'd spent much of the previous hour observing Ellie in snatched glances. Ben and Gerhard had retired for the night, leaving the first watch to Ellie. She'd gritted her teeth, but in an act of stoicism, she’d been performing her duty whilst ignoring him. He didn't mind; he was contented for the first time in years. Her proximity was a balm to his long-tortured soul.

  "For God's sake, stop humming that damn song!"

  "I'm sorry. I wasn't aware I was humming anything," he answered softly.

  "Well, you were, and I hate that song. 'Angel of Mine', my foot."

  "It was your favourite. You chose it as our first dance."

  "Yes, another thing our brief union destroyed," she snapped at him before turning back to her lone vigil at the stern.

  Sam looked down at the helm and scratched his head. The beauty of the night was swallowed by the bitterness of the comment. He turned and studied her. The Nile breezes played with her flaming titian locks. On the surface, she had changed little. Her skin was a soft, creamy alabaster, and she'd still fit in the elegant dress she wore on the day they married, yet her eyes told another story. They were cold and empty. She now wore a shield that aged her.

  His Elena had been a passionate and open soul. This woman was the exact opposite. He wondered, as he had so many thousands of times before, what he'd done to bring his world crumbling down. He spun on his heel and put the boat into autopilot to navigate the long, straight stretch of the Nile.

  "No, damn it. Enough is enough. I did nothing except love and adore you. Yet, you dare to point your finger at me in accusation. I wasn't the one who abandoned us – you were." He pushed his fingers through his dark, wavy hair. "I loved you beyond life itself. You were my best friend. My very heart. Khalas, Elena. I will take blame when it's due, but you did this, not me."

  Ellie turned very slowly to face him. Her face was a vista of ice.

  "Oh, no, Sam. We are not going there. I refuse to debate this subject with you. It's pointless. I know the truth. I've accepted it, and your empty protestations of innocence hold no sway with me. It's so far in the past, it's covered in a layer of dust an inch thick." She dismissed him, turning back to face the Nile.

  He tore across the boat and grabbed her by both shoulders, shaking her. "How can I protest my innocence when I don't even understand the accusations against me? You didn't even have the decency to tell me what devastating action I took to force my wife to abandon me, our home, our life. Did I suffocate you with love? Did you tire of me?" He shook her again. "God help me, I will have the truth this time, Elena. I will not go to my grave riddled with doubt and pain. You will tell me."

  "Oh, that's right - intimidate me. That's just typical. Go to hell, where you belong," she spat before wrenching free of his hold.

  He watched her move away. His cheeks clenched as he took a deep breath.

  "You're right. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have shaken you." He moved close behind her, breathing in the scent so unique to her, a clean, floral perfume that reminded him of happier times. "I swear, as God is my witness, all I've ever wanted was for you to be happy. Your happiness has always taken priority over mine. If you can tell me you're happy now and mean it, then I'll accept this torture as the cost I must pay. But you’re so far from happy..." he said, rubbing his hand down her arms. "I find I can't bear it."

  Ellie stiffened but didn't move away. She watched the waters eddy and part around the boat's hull, a dark flow of energy. "Happiness?" she scoffed at him. "I haven't had a moment of happiness since you destroyed us, but I've found a certain peace. A satisfaction in what I've achieved. Happiness is overrated anyway. It's a temporal disturbance in life's flow. I find if you don't expect it, then life moves along easier."

  He stepped closer and wrapped a length of her hair around his finger. "I've missed you… us. Until my dying day, you will always be the only woman I've loved. The only woman I've wanted. Since you left, I've not so much as looked at another. No one matches you. They can't and they never will. My beautiful Elena..." He kissed the top of her head, exhaling and fighting the urge to pull her into his arms, where he thought she belonged.

  She turned and, with a volcanic burst of energy, slapped him. He pulled back, rubbing his cheek.

  "You dare speak of love. Oh, your love was so deep, you took another woman to bed, to our bed! Well, save me from such love," she spat, her eyes blazing with hatred and anger. Sam stepped away from her, banging into the helm door behind him.

  "What? I've never slept with another woman since we met. I don't even think I physically could, truth be told. Where the hell did you get that notion? I swear on the only thing precious to me—your life—I didn't sleep with anyone. You must believe me."

  "Believe you? Never! You know something, you didn't just end our marriage that night, you killed our child. I was pregnant, Sam. Pregnant. While you were salivating over some harlot, I was growing our child. You want to know what love is? Do you? Love is when your body fails to thrive without its nurturing touch. My heart broke, and my body couldn't sustain my child. You killed our child just as much as if you'd taken a knife and stabbed it."

  Sam stared at her, aghast. His legs crumbled as tears poured down his face. His sorrow rendered him mute as he rocked back and forth. A silent blanket wrapped the boat.

  He remembered the day she'd left. She'd run downstairs barefooted, her hair flying behind her, and leapt into his arms, laughing as he exhaled under the strain of her unexpected weight. She'd covered his face in kisses before capturing his mouth in a passionate kiss full of longing and love. He'd responded ardently, unable to resist her.

  "Come back to bed. We have something to celebrate," she'd mewed in between increasingly passionate kisses.

  He'd glanced across at the wall clock an
d moaned. "Oh, God, I'm hosting that seminar, and I'm already late. Don't tempt me, you minx." He'd caressed her cheek and kissed her once more. "Shall we reconvene at five p.m.?" he'd murmured into her hair.

  "You'd better believe it, and maybe again at six," she laughed with a teasing grin. He'd growled in frustration and bemoaned the seminar's timing before easing out of her arms, picking up his old, battered briefcase, and leaving their home. When he'd returned that night, full of excitement and ardour, he'd found an empty house. Her clothes were gone. Now, at last, he understood why.

  He sobbed as he imagined their child running and dancing between them. A darker version of Elena. He imagined their happy home, which, by now, would have had a brother or sister for the lost baby. He imagined Elena softly cradling his child as it nursed at her breast, her head bent, watching it as she sang a gentle song. The loss he felt at losing Elena was nothing to what he felt now.

  He lifted red-rimmed eyes to her steely gaze. "I didn't know."

  "How could you? You were too busy fucking your bitch."

  "Elena, I swear to you, there has never, ever been anyone but you. I'm begging you to believe me. I swear it on our child's life."

  "Ah, well, that's just it. Our child had no life," Ellie said, brushing her hair from her face with a sigh. "Sam, please, no more lies. I saw the photos with my own eyes. Stop the pretence. It's all in the past, and I can't talk about it anymore. It's opening old wounds."

  Sam stared at her, unable to process what he'd heard. Confusion wracked him. How could there be photos of him when he'd done nothing? His breath came in deep gasps as the old panic attacks he'd only recently overcome returned with a vengeance.

  "I… I..."

  He grasped his throat, unable to claim the surrounding air. He was locked in the horror of a misunderstanding of such vast dimensions, he didn't know how to unravel it. His face reddened as his body refused to breathe.

  Ellie heard him gasping and turned to see him collapsing onto the deck. She ran to his side. "Sam, are you okay?" He shook his head, unable to get words beyond the block in his throat. "Is it asthma?" He shook his head again as she continued to run through a list of possibilities.

  He pointed to his pocket. She pulled a large paper bag from it with a look of confusion. He grabbed it and brought it to his mouth, trying to breathe steadily in and out, as the doctors had taught him.

  She sat on her heels as understanding crossed her face. "A panic attack? You never had those."

  "Only since you left," he replied when he regained control of his breathing. "God, Elena. To think what you went through alone. What you've carried ever since. I should have been there. It was my responsibility to protect you, and I failed. I'm so sorry."

  "It was your responsibility to be faithful as well," she whispered, the wind knocked from her sails. "The photos are graphic. They leave no doubt. How I've wished I could wash those images from my mind, but they play back, especially at night as I try to sleep. Your body, all slick with sweat, crawling over hers. Your hands stroking her face, just as you'd always done to mine. I see them and I hate you. So, Sam, give up on this great innocence act. The photos proved what a fool I'd been to love you so utterly. I'd poured everything into us, into our love, our marriage. When I left, I had nothing because my life made no sense without you. But I've carved out a new life. I've learnt to trust no one. To live solo. It's time you did the same."

  Slow claps echoed around the boat. They both turned to see a man clapping, slowly. "Bravo. What a heart-wrenching tragedy. Romeo and Juliet you are not though."

  He lowered his hands and reached for the machine gun swinging on its shoulder strap. Sam and Ellie both gasped as the man walked from the shadows of the boat’s bow and into the gentle lamplight.

  Betrayal

  "Mourad? What are you doing here?" Sam asked.

  "Oh, my dear boy, I would have thought the gun made that question redundant. I'm here to kill you. Well, to be accurate, I'm here to kill Ellie and her cohorts. You are collateral damage. I'm saddened by that, but a mission is a mission. God's work trumps all others. I know you'll understand."

  Ellie stared blankly at him, unable to process his appearance. The elegant, gentle, scholarly man she'd known and loved her whole life stood before her in military fatigues with a gun. It made no sense.

  "Uncle?"

  "Now, Ellie, my dear, there's no need to make this more difficult than it needs to be. Don't think this is something I relish. It's not, but unfortunately, all our efforts to keep you away from the other members of the House of Scarabs have failed. Throughout the generations, we have chased your families, pushing you ever farther apart. But you had to be the one to unite them. I never wanted to kill you. Allah knows I've had my chances to kill you and your mother over the years, but I was trying to follow a moderate policy. Now I will go down in history as the Tjati that failed to stop the partial meld of the House of Scarabs. I have no choice now. You must die. The House needs all three pillars to fulfil its destiny. By killing you, I end the House of Scarabs. Well, and killing your mother, obviously, but that's in progress as we speak."

  "NO!" Ellie screamed, fighting Sam to get to Mourad.

  "I know. It's terribly sad. I'll miss the old girl more than you can imagine. She's one of my best friends and a damn fine archaeologist, but well, you've forced my hand."

  "Mourad. For God's sake, what the hell are you talking about? What is this 'House of Scarabs’? You know Elena. She's a peaceful, God-fearing woman. Just tell her what to do. You'll do it, won't you, Elena? Please, Mourad, let's work out a solution where this 'House of Scarabs' isn't an issue," Sam pleaded, pulling Ellie behind him as he spoke.

  Mourad shook his head from side to side. "It's far too late for that, Sam. That boat has sailed. She's absorbed the essence of Khepri, and he will push her to complete the meld. It's inevitable. She has to die. It's her, a short-lived human soul, or my eternal lord, God. There is no choice when faced with that option. Would you put her before your God, Sam?"

  "Yes. Before anything."

  "You would face eternal damnation for her? It didn't take much meddling for her to leave you, did it? Some carefully manipulated photos, and she walked away. She didn't even trust you enough to listen to your side of the story. Seems she's not as loyal as you, huh?"

  "YOU! It was you?" Ellie screamed. "You killed my baby!"

  She grabbed the handgun tucked into the rear of Sam's trousers and leapt sideways, shooting wildly. Shots thundered into Mourad's chest, arm, and shoulder. His fingers on the machine gun’s trigger tightened, letting off a volley of rounds that peppered the boat. Sam spun sideways as he tackled Ellie to the deck.

  The silence was deafening after the thunderous gunfire.

  Ellie struggled to pull herself free of Sam, sobbing hysterically. She looked across at Mourad, his arms outstretched on the deck as if Jesus on the crucifix. His face was permanently painted with a quizzical expression. She stared down at the corpse, unable to process this old family friend had caused so much of her life's miseries.

  Sam gasped, reaching for his shoulder, which felt like he'd been run over by a lorry. He pulled his fingers away and saw blood coating them. Ellie turned slowly to face him. Her hair flowed wildly around her shoulders, like a flaming halo against skin whiter than Sam had ever seen, her eyes haunted. She'd never seemed more beautiful to him.

  "Oh, Sam, I'm so sorry!" she sobbed, running to him. He opened his arms. She covered his face in wild kisses. "Can you ever forgive me? I should have trusted you." Her hands ran over his torso to his face. She glanced down and froze. "You've been shot!"

  "It's just a glancing wound. It's nothing. Come back here and kiss me."

  The drumroll of shots had woken Ben and Gerhard. As they raced up onto the deck, they feared what they would find. The Nile glowed an azure blue as sinuous fingers rose into the air, knitting together to form a perfect orb around the boat. The fingers crept under the fast-flowing water until they reached the three boat
s that were surrounding the river cruiser and worked themselves up the hulls of the boats, searching out life. When they touched the occupants, they slivered over them, wrapping around their throats and up over their heads. All the occupants struggled to free themselves, thrashing around the boats blindly until they fell, silent and lifeless, to the boats’ floors.

  Holes riddled the fibreglass body of the boathouse. A man lay, as if in religious reflection, in a pool of blood oozing across the deck. Then there was Ellie and Sam.

  Ben smirked. "Don't mind us! Jeez, it takes a massacre on board for you two to get your act together."

  "Ben, hurry. Help me get Sam below. He's wounded," screamed Ellie as she held her hands against his injured shoulder.

  Gerhard eased Ellie to one side and pulled the fabric away. The wound was large and free-flowing. Gerhard pulled Sam forward and saw the bullet had gone clear through him, leaving a large but clean exit wound on his back.

  "Well, at least the bullet isn't lodged inside. It seems to have missed his major arteries. Sam, can you move your arm?" Sam tried, wincing, as he lifted his arm to rest on Gerhard's shoulder before dropping it back down again.

  Gerhard watched as the blood slowed to a trickle. "This will need stitching and immobilising to give it a chance to heal. Do you have any superglue on board, Sam?"

  Sam nodded wanly toward the helm house. "I think there's some kind of glue in the toolbox in there. I saw it when I was rooting through it, looking for a screwdriver the other day."

  Ben sprinted to retrieve it while Gerhard dispatched Ellie, who gripped Sam's hand as if her life depended on it, to find clean cloth and the first aid box from below deck.

  "What happened, Sam? That's Professor Mourad, is it not?"