“Are you hurt?” She wanted to run to him, to make certain he hadn’t been injured, but her muscles had wound so tight, she feared she’d spring at him.
“No. Are you?” His deep voice filled the back room, formal-sounding, yet strangely comforting.
“Thanks to you, no.”
“I mean you no harm.”
“I know.”
He pointedly glanced down. “That is good.”
She looked at the rod in her hands and tossed it away from her. “Oh God.” What the hell was she doing? Her knees became jelly, and she leaned against the wall.
Questions flew through her head. “Who was he? A thief?” Oh no, why hadn’t that occurred to her earlier? Had he stolen any of the artifacts?
He approached slowly. “Let me walk you to your office. You should sit and gather your strength.”
Her strength? More like her mind, but that organ was long gone. “This makes no sense.”
“In time, it will.” He slipped his arm around her waist. “Come.”
Trying not to lean into him—much—she staggered along the hall and into the lobby, now empty. Good thing everyone had left before the scuffle started. She wouldn’t forgive herself if anyone else had been hurt. Plus she’d have no idea how to explain the strange situation to anyone.
He guided her inside her office and stepped away from her.
The sudden release left her slightly off balance, but she repressed the urge to grab him again. Her rattled nerves had calmed faster than she’d anticipated.
She switched on the light. “We should call the police.”
“No.” Ebony brows made a striking contrast to the color of his eyes.
A startling, crystal blue that pierced her. She shook off the sensation he could see through her to the person inside, the girl no other man had glimpsed before. “What do you mean, no? He attacked me.”
“The police will be of no assistance. This matter is beyond their realm.”
She leaned against the desk. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” This wasn’t some crazy-realistic video game come to life, though it was beginning to seem that way.
He moved closer. “I must speak with you.”
“We are speaking.” She couldn’t stop trembling, but she wasn’t sure whether it was from the unexpected attack or his striking looks. She’d never seen any man as gorgeous as him. Thick black lashes framing intense eyes. And the laser-sharp way he focused on her… no guy had ever looked at her like that.
He bowed. “Apologies, goddess.”
She couldn’t muster so much as a blink. “What did you say?” No mistaking it this time. He had definitely called her the G word.
“I must know your answer.”
Enough with the mysterious approach. “My answer to what?” The most she’d ever said to him before was “Hello.” Not the most original ice breaker, but he certainly hadn’t asked her anything.
He bent to one knee. “I will serve you in any way you wish, but you are the key.”
Again with the key. “I’m sorry, I’m sure you’re a wonderful security guard, and I’m grateful for your help tonight, but I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” The last thing she wanted to do, but she needed to clear her head, and couldn’t think straight around him.
“I cannot until you pledge yourself to me.” Still intense, he spoke more softly.
Of course, the first gorgeous guy interested in her had to be certifiable. “Whoa, buddy. That’s a bit premature, don’t you think?” Generally, people had at least one date before the marriage proposal. If that was what he meant, which she wasn’t at all sure about. Lately, she wasn’t sure of anything.
He fixed her with a look of intensity, possibly irritation. “Goddess, you must perform the ritual to ensure the queen pharaoh’s safe passage to the Land in the West.”
Ugh, the goddess thing again. She wouldn’t argue anymore. If he wanted to think of her that way, fine.
“Do you mean passage to America?” Was the Antiquities Council going to allow her to schedule the Hatshepsut exhibit in her museum after all?
“No. To her eternal rest. The spells were never completed to set the queen pharaoh’s soul on her final journey. You must perform the ritual.”
“What? No. Why me?” Nothing on her resume hinted she was qualified for this.
“You are she for whom we have waited.”
Her head spun with these riddles. “You’re mistaken. You’re confusing me with someone else.”
He held in a breath, then seemed to decide a further explanation necessary, but he looked none too happy about it. “After the queen pharaoh’s death, her successor sought to erase her from history.”
“Yes, I know. He removed all reference to Hatshepsut wherever it had been inscribed.”
“At the advice of the vizier User, her successor also barred the queen pharaoh from eternal reward. They hid her true burial site well enough to prevent its discovery for thousands of years.”
“Until last year.” Now it was beginning to make sense. “I’m guessing that archaeologists didn’t merely stumble upon User’s false tomb door.”
As if some weight had been lifted from him, he drew himself straighter, eyes brightening with the hint of a smile. Why her response should make him happy was another head-scratcher.
“Very good, goddess. You are beginning to understand.” He lightly placed his palms together and leaned forward expectantly.
A test? Normally she’d bristle at the arrogance, but he seemed to want her to understand of her own accord. Maybe he thought that if she said it first, she’d be more likely to believe it. But the vizier’s knife at her throat had already convinced her it was all too real.
Rather than tensing, wishing for this to end, her nerves uncoiled, loose as a cat after a long nap. “Let me further guess that, once Hatshepsut’s remains had been disturbed, the vizier grew likewise disturbed and his followers arranged the unearthing of the false tomb door.”
“Yes.” So much encouragement and hope in one little word.
“And so you wouldn’t be left out, someone—”
“The queen pharaoh’s dedicated followers.”
“Right. They made sure someone found your burial site.” She tried to repress a shudder at the thought, but her skin goose-pimpled. Until this week, Iker had been a mummy. Unbelievable. How? She opened her mouth to ask but he spoke first.
“Yes, I swore to protect the queen pharaoh until her soul finds eternal peace. You will prepare Hatshepsut’s soul using the Pyramid Text spells and the Book of the Dead. You will accompany her to the tribunal before the gods.”
Her head shook involuntarily and not a little violently. “No. I couldn’t possibly.” She could hardly take that much time of time off from work, especially this month—the most critical one of her career.
“You must,” he said with more volume than necessary. “You are descended from The Sacred and All-Seeing Eye. The pharaoh’s last and only hope.”
Did he mean she was a descendant of the goddess Bastet? Now he’d gone too far. She held up a hand. “Look, I have to go home. I must have hit my head harder than I thought.” She needed to rest. A good long rest, possibly in a padded room.
He bowed. “Until tomorrow, then.”
Any other time, it might have sounded promising. She grabbed her purse. “Good night.”
****
The cool splash of night air did little to revive Mrs. Allgood’s drunken senses. Two men—she wouldn’t call them gentlemen—propped her up by the elbows on either side and practically dragged her to the curb. Light streamed through the tall windows of the museum but appeared to recede. Or possibly she was traveling away, she could no longer tell except that the distance was impossible to traverse.
One man dropped his hold to open the taxi door. “Into the back seat, Mrs. Allgood.”
She turned to the other and squinted to focus. “I know who you are.” His cool, clammy skin, those colorless eyes, that sibilant lisp..
. She trembled in spite of herself.
“Of course you do.” Howie pursed his lips. “You approved the museum to hire me.”
“I’ve been watching you. You can’t fool me.” She poked a finger into his chest. Too squishy. Ech.
“Climb inside the cab, please.” Polite words spoken impatiently.
She stabbed her cane against the ground. “I refuse to go anywhere with people I don’t know.”
“Now you’re contradicting yourself. You just said you did,” Howie hissed. “Obviously, you’ve had too much to drink. Get in.” He gave her a shove.
With a yelp, she stumbled down the curb. Losing her balance, she fell against the car, her head slamming into the side. Pain sliced her skull, and she sank. Someone pushed her inside onto the seat.
“You’re not going to cause any more trouble,” said a sibilant voice, not exactly human.
A moan was all she could manage. A pinprick in her shoulder momentarily paralyzed her. Its burn slithered along her veins, then she began sinking into a deep, cold well of darkness. Haze cobwebbed her thoughts.
The door slammed. The engine roared. Gravity pressed her against the seat. As the world spun, nausea washed over her. Her muscles went slack and she slumped over.
They had trusted her. Depended on her. She had failed her purpose in The Royal Daughter of Amun Society, and failed the royal daughter herself. “I’m sorry, my queen. So sorry, kitten.”
Chapter Six
Flames flickered from the sconces set in the granite wall. Pink granite flecked with black, the same as in the temple at Baubastis. Chanting filled the darkness. With slow and purposeful moves, Sanura glided to the front of the temple. Cats followed her to the altar, where she set a stone bowl atop it.
Beads strung across her forehead tapped together as she bowed to the congregation filling the temple.
Front and center, Iker knelt on the floor, bowing to her. Firelight danced across his chiseled muscles. The chants stopped, and he raised up to a kneeling position. Was it possible for someone to worship another with his eyes? If so, Iker was worshipping her now. His unblinking, adoring focus followed her every move.
She had wanted to tell him something, but what?
Around him, the congregation split apart as people stood and shuffled through the open doors and outside. After the last had passed through, the tall doors closed.
Then only she and Iker remained. He watched her, and she couldn’t look away. Such a striking face. And holy temple of the goddess, was he built like a god.
She sensed him waiting for a signal from her, so extended her hand. The heavy golden ring caught the torch light. She became aware of the pendant hanging from her neck, The Sacred and All-Seeing Eye. Aside from that, not much else covered her—gauzy fabric slung over her breasts, and a sarong hung from her hips.
His clear eyes blazed with blue heat. He rose with slow grace and advanced toward her. “Goddess. I am yours to command.”
How lucky could a girl get? “I command you to take me.” Why not? It was her dream, to do as she so desired. And wowsers, she desired him.
His hands warmed her waist. One flick of his wrist, the sarong was history, then the scarf. His lips met hers and moved against them, an instant addiction she wanted to feed. She wrapped her legs around his hips. In two powerful strides, he carried her to the altar, set her atop it and proceeded to worship her in the most sublime ways.
Abruptly, her eyes popped open. Alone in her bed, the darkness seemed cold after his warmth. But it was only a dream. Such a wonderful dream too. Maybe if she closed her eyes tight, she could fall into it again.
No such luck. Moonlight streamed through her window, alighting the dark stone figure of the cat, glinting off the gilded earring. Bastet, The Sacred and All-Seeing Eye. Like the pendant her mother had given her, handed down through many generations. An amulet against illness, to protect her, her mom had said.
Obviously, its protection failed when faced with a real attacker. If the security guard hadn’t been there, she’d have thought she dreamed that, too. If he hadn’t been there, she’d be dead.
And she hadn’t even asked his name.
Probably out of fear he’d answer what she already knew, as unlikely and crazy as it seemed, but the truth resonated deep in her bones.
She refused to let herself think about how such a thing could be possible. He was The Excellent One. The warrior Iker. Who lived during Hatshepsut’s time.
Oh, her head hurt.
****
Sanura sat across from Margo at a window table in the book store coffee shop. “Thanks for coming to the opening last night.”
“Thanks for the free exhibit pass. I had a great time. Maybe a little too great.” Pale, Margo rubbed her forehead.
“Headache?”
“Hangover.” Margo sounded embarrassed. “I thought I only had one drink, but things are kind of fuzzy so I can’t be sure.”
“The wine must have been extra potent.” Mrs. Allgood’s tastes ran to the decadent, apparently.
Margo squinted at her. “Didn’t you have any?”
“No, I wanted to keep a clear head for opening night.” No wonder everyone acted so groggy last night. But even a strong wine didn’t explain why no one else saw the blinding flash of light. And the flying hawk with a man’s face. Then the foreign man’s sudden appearance, as if the light show signaled his coming. Crazy as it sounded, somehow it made sense. The false door. Through the portal, souls could travel to the other side—or back. Should she ask the security guard about the subject? He might be the only one to take her seriously.
Her friend oozed wariness and suspicion. “You disappeared at the end.”
Almost permanently. “When I checked the locks on the rear entrance, I accidentally locked myself in the back room.”
Margo flinched in surprise. “Oh no, how did you get out?”
She gave a shrug of innocence. “I banged and yelled, but I guess you all had left. The security guard let me out.” After saving her ass.
Brow furrowed, Margo tsk’d. “Lucky he heard you. How scary.”
Not half as scary as the Middle Eastern man. And if her instinct proved correct, he’d trailed her this morning to the coffee shop, but hadn’t come inside. Every so often, she’d catch a glimpse of him, peering from some obscure place. Then she’d lose him again.
When Margo said goodbye and headed to work, Sanura hesitated. Maybe the foreigner waited in hiding. To kidnap her. To…
Wait, why would anyone want to kidnap her? She had nothing of value. Yes, she had access to the museum’s treasures, but no one could get past the tight security. Even with a hostage?
She shuddered. How stupid of her. Her imagination had inflated this to insane proportions. A person who lived in that part of the world wouldn’t travel all the way to America to steal what he could more easily intercept en route. And it wasn’t as if anyone could sell these items on the black market. Yes, they were priceless, but their historical origin made them instantly identifiable, and impossible to sell. Who could lug around a six foot tall granite slab anyway?
Every clue boiled down to one thing: none of these notions made sense.
She finished her coffee and replaced the cup on the counter before heading out. No sign of the foreigner. She must have seen someone who resembled him, that was all.
She headed to the museum. Throughout the day, she made certain to surround herself with others. To never be alone, to never make herself available for the conversation she knew awaited, but which she’d put off for as long as possible.
When not on the phone or greeting visitors, she kept Howie under her constant tutelage. He became her shield. A lisping, annoying, cloying shield. But it worked.
Intense as the sensation hit her that the security guard watched her, waiting for the right moment to corner her, she successfully skirted him.
After work, a more intense fear hit her. The Middle Eastern man had returned, and also waited for the right moment to c
orner her, in a much less pleasant encounter.
****
Apep slithered inside the cramped room and coiled in front of the vizier in a brief bow. A pretense of respect.
Seated in a plain chair of wood, User pursed his thin lips. “You’re late, serpent.”
The name is Apep. Greatest enemy of the sun god, Ra. “At your service.” But not for much longer. Now get on with it.
“Quite.” The vizier shifted his considerable weight on the too-small chair.
One of the few pleasures in which Apep rejoiced—witnessing User’s discomfort in this new world. No regal chambers for the vizier, no countless servant girls attending his every whim. User finally had as much as he deserved. Nothing.
“Well?” User barked. “What have you learned?”
Apep schooled his anger, letting it simmer beneath the surface. Of course, he didn’t expect the vizier to credit him with long ago taking the initiative in learning to speak English—such an awkward language, no beauty to it whether written or spoken, and only after endless hours of forcing his tongue into unnatural positions had he trained it to form the words like one born in this uncivilized country. User couldn’t claim the same, and gave his heritage away with every utterance.
But the vizier had not been required to pass as one of them, as Apep did. The vizier might at least acknowledge how Apep had studied the world with each passing decade, acquainting himself with trends and technological developments. Doing so had not only saved him from excruciating boredom, but had prepared him for the inevitable day when he would need to walk among them undetected.
The thrill of being called to duty came over him anew. He had indeed successfully transformed into a believable American university student, seamlessly adapting to the country’s primitive customs, even infiltrating the museum to snivel humbly at Sanura’s feet. Yes, the vizier’s followers had assisted in securing the internship, but as Howie, he was the one who daily fulfilled her demands and performed menial tasks—he, the great Apep! The vizier should reward him for each moment he repressed the great urge to crush the life out of the woman, pitiful excuse for a goddess that she was.
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