Goddess, Spellbound

by Masters, Cate

  Revenge was a powerful motivator. His beloved country had suffered enough indignity. How absurd for a woman to pose as ruler of his great country, pretending to be pharaoh. Worse, she’d lied to his people by calling herself the daughter of Amun. Disgust churned his gut. He had not been fooled. Like her stepson and heir, Thutmose III, the gods themselves demanded justice. Demanded all trace of her removed from this world, and demanded she never receive the honors bestowed upon pharaohs in the next world.

  He had assumed the mantle of responsibility then, and gladly accepted it again.

  The door awaited, and he bided his time until the right moment arrived. All he had to do was take flight on the wings of his Ba and soar to triumph.

  Chapter Five

  Normally one of the most dreaded aspects of Sanura’s job, she faced some fifty guests gathering in the lobby and spoke into the microphone with surprising calm. “Welcome to the opening of our exclusive exhibit, Egypt’s History Unearthed. I’m excited to be able to share these amazing archaeological finds with you. We’re extremely lucky Egypt’s Supreme Council on Antiquities generously loaned us these recent archaeological finds for one month.”

  A few visitors still trickled into the lobby from the exhibit hall. The security guard stood at the entryway in the same stance as usual, stiff as a statue. Howie circled the outskirts with the camera as she continued her introductory spiel. Near the wall, Margo smiled at her and raised her glass of wine in salute.

  Sanura shot her a smile and wrapped up her greeting. “Please help yourselves to—”

  An intense beam of light exploded soundlessly, its brilliant shards reaching from the exhibit room into the lobby. Along the sharpest peak stretching farther through the room, a large, birdlike creature flew. Even though its wide wings fanned the hair and napkins of people gathered below, they remained slack-faced, and watched her instead of looking up.

  All except Howie. He stood near the wall, smiling. Not the weak sort of grin he usually had, but one that conveyed absolute satisfaction. Not to mention a touch of evil. Shock held Sanura in check as the creature crossed the room and down the hall. Once the bird vanished, the light dwindled to a glimmer, retreated into the exhibit room, and then disappeared. Petrified that something might have harmed the artifacts, she gaped.

  Didn’t anyone see the flash of light? They had to at least have noticed the huge bird, though now that she thought about it, the creature had cast no shadow.

  Sanura glanced to where the security guard had stood. Gone. Not now, when she needed him most.

  She searched for Howie, but the intern had disappeared too.

  A tall man strode out from the hallway opposite the exhibit room, halted abruptly, and smoothed the lapels of his white linen suit. His hawkish features mimicked those of the bird’s. His sharp stare pierced her, then he moved to the rear of the crowd.

  Where had he come from?

  As she scanned the people in front of her, Sanura’s glance met Margo’s, whose face was creased with concern. Her mouth moved in exaggerated motions as Margo silently mimed, Are you all right?

  Shaken to the bone, Sanura struggled to compose herself and smiled at the crowd. “Help yourselves to the canapés and wine. We’re especially grateful to Mrs. Allgood for her generous donation for tonight’s reception.” She clapped in the patron’s direction. Applause filled the room when others followed suit.

  Sanura eased toward the exhibit entryway to peer inside. No evidence of an explosion of any sort. Everything appeared fine, in the same order she’d left it. So why did had her nerve endings turned ragged as live, broken electrical wires?

  “Hey, what’s up?” Margo, at her side, asked in a hushed tone.

  The last thing she needed was for anyone to think she’d lost her marbles, even if that was exactly what may have happened. “Everything’s great. No more opening night jitters. How’s the wine?”

  Margo finished a sip. “Mm, delicious. Excellent choice.”

  “Mrs. Allgood’s choice, not mine.” Where the hell had the security guard disappeared to? He was still nowhere in sight. Maybe the men’s room? Give the guy a break.

  Margo gave her the once-over. “You look fantastic, by the way. So cool, you wore your Egyptian jewelry. Excellent touch.”

  Too coincidental, that the guard disappeared the same time as the eerie blast of light? “A last-minute thought. But thanks.”

  “Are you sure you’re okay? You seem a little…” A shrug, and Margo winced.

  “Preoccupied? Sure, because I wanted tonight to go off without a hitch.”

  Margo gave a quick smile. “Congratulations, then. Looks like the show’s going to be a huge smash.”

  Interesting wording. Luckily, opening night wasn’t a literal smash. “Yes, I hope so.”

  “Here, I saved you an hors d’ouvre.” Margo held out a napkin containing a stuffed mushroom.

  “You’re sweet, thanks.” Her stomach rumbled, but like the wine, something about the food repelled her.

  “I knew you probably wouldn’t take the time to eat. Try it.” Margo held the morsel close to Sanura’s mouth.

  Shielding herself with her hand, she eased back. “I’ll have some a little later, after I make the rounds. Catch up to you in a bit, okay?”

  “Guess I’ll mingle and meander.” Humming, Margo strolled off in a zig-zag.

  If Sanura didn’t know her friend better, she’d suspect Margo had sampled too much of the wine. In the throng beyond, the swarthy man stared at her with intense dark eyes.

  A shiver passed through her. Who was he? Maybe a member of Egypt’s Supreme Council on Antiquities traveled to the United States to check on her? No one had notified her of a visit, but perhaps they’d planned a surprise inspection. If so, she should greet him and make sure he had everything he needed, especially reassurance about the items’ security.

  Dread filled her as she wound through the guests toward him. People milled about, and walked in front of her. She lost sight of the man, and stopped to glance around. Where did he go? Really weird. First the security guard, now that foreign-looking guy.

  If the rest of the month was anything like tonight, this exhibit would tax her on every level.

  ****

  Iker had first spotted them lurking near the museum entryway. He might have overlooked the three men had they not lingered there, standing too close to one another, speaking in low voices, their narrowed eyes scanning every corner as if assessing risk. As if strategizing.

  The signs of those plotting an attack. Iker kept a pleasant expression and strolled closer. Mimicking the polite gesture of the police he’d encountered, he tipped his hat. “Good evening.”

  One grumbled. Another returned the greeting with a cool but polite, “Evening.” All hovered, readying for fight or flight.

  A little more prodding would reveal the truth. If he could disguise his accent. “Are you here for the exhibit? The rest of the museum is closed for the night.”

  “Yes,” one said, less polite now.

  Iker let his gaze linger on the suspicious bulge beneath the jacket of one man, who shifted behind another.

  “Straight through there.” Iker pointed, then rested his hand near his side, close to the museum-issued cell phone, but closer to the knife hidden beneath his jacket.

  “Is the foyer still open?” one sneered.

  “Of course.” He grinned. “But there is nothing interesting out here.”

  They went rigid, studying him.

  He had spoken too much, too formally. Given himself away.

  One stepped closer, assessing him. “Do you work here?”

  Iker widened his stance. “Yes.” The less he said, the better.

  The three spread out, forming a half-circle. The man in the center edged nearer to Iker. “Your accent is familiar. Where are you from?”

  No use pretending. “The same as you, I suspect.” Before the other two could get behind him, Iker leapt back. “You should return there, while you are able
.”

  The man’s chuckle erased the last shred of doubt. “Not yet.”

  The two on either end lunged at him. Iker ran toward the entryway, hoping they’d follow. When they scrambled after him, he shoved the three through the door. With a glance to ensure no one noticed, he burst outside.

  The men had tumbled down the stone steps and were in various stages of rising when he crashed into their midst. Swift blows to each head with his closed fist rendered them unconscious. He gathered two by their collars and the last by the wrist and dragged them to the alleyway before anyone came along. One by one, he tossed them into the dumpster in the rear, then secured the lid.

  After straightening his uniform, Iker strode to the back entrance. Closed and locked, as it should be. Light poured from the side door as women wearing black and white outfits shuttled containers of food from a van to inside.

  A heavy breath, and Iker hesitated. Guard this door? Or return inside? If he ever wished for an army, he would welcome one now. With strangers surrounding Sanura, it seemed less likely others would attack while the exhibit remained open. He would better serve her by shielding the outside with an occasional visual check of her.

  Not his most formidable plan, but nonetheless, he began the patrol.

  ****

  The night had begun to seem endless, as if time had suspended and Sanura stood at a distance from it all, with the expanse of centuries separating her from the other people in the museum. But strangely enough, not from the artifacts. Unlike the visitors and even the museum itself, which were shrouded in a gauzy haze, the Bastet statues, the false tomb door and the warrior mummy appeared vividly real. Like Sanura had traveled backward through time, and stood in the present day for the artifacts, her ‘here and now’ shifted to the past.

  “Time to show me the warrior you’ve talked about for weeks.” At first sounding muffled and distant, Margo’s voice became clearer as she appeared at Sanura’s side with a lascivious leer.

  The veil distorting time lifted, but Sanura’s mind still felt clouded. Can’t even blame the weird feeling on alcohol. Good thing she hadn’t tasted the wine or she might be in serious danger of losing all touch with reality. “Oh right. He’s in here.” Sanura guided her friend toward the exhibit hall.

  Margo blew raspberries. “Have you lost your enthusiasm for him already?”

  Hardly. If possible, it had increased. Beyond simple enthusiasm, a deep connection ran between Sanura and the mummy. Indefinable, inexplicable, but there. “I’m trying not to taint your first impression.”

  Her friend squawked. “A little late. You’ve built him up to godlike status.”

  Had she gushed so terribly? Sanura hid her embarrassment behind a grin. “You’ll see why. Come on.”

  The number of visitors had dwindled to about half of the earlier size of the crowd, but people still formed a rough queue along the displays. She linked arms with Margo and tugged her along, a slow journey ending in another line of guests gawking at The Excellent One. When they advanced to the front, reverence washed over Sanura anew. What the warrior had lost in vitality, he’d gained in fierceness. Tonight, an aura of gritty determination surrounded him. She pitied any man who’d faced him in battle.

  “This is Iker.” Yikes, she felt like she’d just made an introduction of the warrior to her best friend.

  Margo’s mouth gaped, and she pressed closer. “Whoa. You weren’t kidding. He’s incredible.”

  Weird how Sanura took such pride in the compliment. “If I’d come across such a well-preserved specimen in the field, I’d have mistaken him for a live person.” Too bad exposure to the atmosphere must have corroded him a bit. Since yesterday, even, his skin had grown more dull. No more lifelike glow in his pallor.

  “Are you sure he’s not? Seriously, maybe the Egyptians smuggled him over as a spy or something.” Margo sipped more wine.

  An eerie feeling halted Sanura. Could it be possible? Was that why she sensed an intelligence, a palpable presence, emanating from him?

  “No, that’s silly.” At her friend’s injured expression, she added, “You’re right, though, he does look great. Better than some of the breathing specimens we know.” At least, he had.

  “Hot,” Margo practically hissed. “I wish men still wore those tunic things to show off their legs. We were born in the wrong century.”

  How often had that thought occurred to Sanura? Too many to count. “It must have been a real treat to watch him.” Something else occurred to her. “Did you happen to notice a tall guy earlier? Looked kind of Egyptian?”

  Margo’s brows knit. “Someone from the Antiquities Council?”

  She strained to see past those waiting behind them. “That’s what I wondered, but he disappeared before I could ask him.”

  “Disappeared?” Margo stared in amused disbelief.

  She wouldn’t validate her friend’s suspicion that she’d lost her mind. “You didn’t see him?”

  “Nope.” Margo turned her attention back to the mummy.

  Behind them, someone cleared his throat. Loudly.

  Sanura flashed an apologetic smile. “Let’s let the others have their turn.” In less than thirty minutes, the museum would close.

  Margo grumbled something inaudible, but didn’t resist when Sanura led her to the artifacts from Bastet’s temple.

  “You can visit him again tomorrow.”

  Her friend sighed. “You’re lucky. You can look at him all day at your job.”

  “No, I do have to actually work.” But she did feel lucky. Knowing he was in the other room while she worked in her office made her look forward to her job more than usual. And no one would fault her for lingering in the exhibit room. It was part of her duties to ensure everything went smoothly, after all.

  “I have to find Howie. I promised he could make the closing announcement.”

  Unlike the Egyptian and the security guard, Howie proved easy enough to find. He stood with two men in the lobby. As Sanura approached, their conversation became louder but not audible, and when Howie glanced over, he clammed up.

  What was he up to? Schmoozing for a new job? Oh yes, please.

  Sanura nodded at the men. “Sorry to interrupt. Howie, we’ll close in ten minutes, so be ready, all right?”

  “Will do.” The intern rocked on his heels.

  “Where’s Ms. Witty-face?” A woman half-screeched, half-slurred.

  Sanura whirled toward where Mrs. Allgood swayed on a bench, wine sloshing from her glass. No. This couldn’t be happening. Not on the most important night of her career.

  Mrs. Allgood swung her cane. “Thish ish not the right wine.”

  Apparently, the woman had tasted many glasses to be sure. “Oh dear. I’d better call her a cab. Howie, can you help her?”

  The intern’s face blanked. “Me?”

  “Yes, you. Please go calm her down. I’ll call the taxi service.” She excused herself to make the call from her office, then to complete a last round of checks.

  The caterers had cleared away all their equipment and staff, not a stray napkin or glass to be seen. She’d better make sure the side entrance is locked. A worker might have propped open the door or twisted the lock for easy entry and exit while serving, but she couldn’t chance anyone else entering that way.

  Darkness engulfed the far end of the hallway, but since she’d hit her head, Sanura had no trouble making out details in the dark. With the stealth of a cat, she crept down the corridor and opened the door to the Employees Only area. A red safety lamp on the far wall cast a dim pall. She made her way to the double doors at the rear and pushed against it, but they didn’t budge. Good, still locked.

  A figure passed by in the shadows to her left. She stilled so she wouldn’t give away that she’d glimpsed anything, but her senses heightened to five-alarm status. Her muscles coiled, poised for flight as footsteps shuffled lightly.

  Every horror movie she’d ever watched told her not to call out and ask who was there. Whoever it was obvio
usly didn’t want his identity known. She didn’t want to know, either. Just get the hell back to the others. Howie’s boyish voice echoed down the hallway, bidding guests goodbye.

  She had to hurry, before everyone was gone. Everyone but whoever lurked in the back room.

  She dashed ahead. The shadow flew at her from behind the tall shelving. A strong grip on her arm lurched her sideways with a yelp. She glanced back and gulped.

  Emerging from the darkness, with the shelving casting bar-like shadows across him, the Middle Eastern man’s face loomed in hers. Angry. Determined.

  “Let me go,” she hissed.

  The glint of steel rising in his hand caught her eye and sent ice screaming down her spine. A knife.

  She stomped her spiked heel onto his foot. An anguished cry echoed down the hall, and he loosened his hold. She twisted beneath his grasp, but he dug his fingers tighter into her arm.

  A second figure rushed from the shadows and slammed into him. The impact jarred her, but freed her. They struggled against the metal shelving, jostling boxes and a few crashed to the floor.

  She edged closer to the hallway, poised to run but riveted by the two men locked in battle. The second looked familiar, and then she recognized the uniform. The security guard! No way could she abandon him.

  The two had locked in combat. The foreign man jabbed the blade at the security guard.

  Sanura’s hands fisted near her face. Horror held her in place as they lunged at one another. She spied a long rod, one she used to move boxes on the highest shelves. The hook on its end used to make her nervous, but would come in handy as a weapon. Grasping it with both hands, she waited for an opportunity to help the guard if needed.

  The air heated with tension, filled with grunts and the thud of punches finding their marks. Metal clattered against the floor. The foreign man hurled himself at the rear doors. They clanged open, then banged shut.

  The security guard staggered into the center aisle, chest heaving. He turned to her. Half in shadow, he appeared more mysterious than ever.