Blood of the Nile

by Blood of the Nile

  With Husani in the driver’s seat and Salma sprawled out in back, Maliyah took shotgun. “Here. Put this on,” Salma said, handing her a white linen headdress, or shayla, as the locals often referred to it. “It will keep your sensitive skin from burning.”

  They drove for more than an hour, until finally Maliyah saw what appeared to be an oasis in the distance. A pristine watering hole nuzzled between a handful of stone and marble monoliths. As the jeep got closer, she realized that the structures were tombs, each one adorned with an elaborate statue of Anubis perched at its threshold. No surprise, considering that many in the Egyptian culture credited the jackal-faced deity with the invention of mummification techniques. Leader of the funerary cult, Anubis was often charged with accompanying the dead to the afterlife.

  As the vehicle came to a halt behind the shade of one of the giant statues, Maliyah felt her stomach lurch, ready to expel the remnants of her undigested breakfast. Her palms were drenched with sweat. This was the one moment she had been dreading. Her father’s final farewell.

  Anwar wanted his death to be carried out in much the same fashion in which he’d lived his humble human existence, without any pomp or circumstance. According to Husani, he’d left strict instructions that no one, other than his daughter and niece and nephew, be allowed to view his lifeless corpse. While a few close friends and business associates had already called, complaining about their lack of invitation, Husani stuck to his guns.

  Good thing he had. I’m not sure I’m ready to place my confidence in anyone other than family.

  Soon, a stout man with a warm, genuine smile approached the jeep. “Good day. My name is Hamid. You must be the Aziz family. I’m sorry for your loss. Please, follow me and I will escort you to your ancestral burial chamber.”

  Maliyah and her cousins trailed after their guide until they reached one of the stone structures; its wide, arched entryway was embellished with primitive Egyptian hieroglyphics. As they descended the steep stairwell of the catacombs, Hamid lit a kerosene lamp. He led them through the winding passageways until they came upon a small room tucked into the corner of the underground cave. The words Makhaut al Aziz were etched across the entrance to the tomb. Clearly, this underground chamber had been reserved for members of her father’s family.

  Inside were more than a dozen sarcophagi laid end to end along the walls of the cave, all topped with heavy, intricately decorated rectangular stones used to conceal their contents. Except one. Her father’s.

  Maliyah rushed to the encasement, draping her arms over its wide expanse. Anwar’s body lay enshrouded in a swath of fine Egyptian cotton, the same cotton material he’d cultivated and used to build his fortune. A picture of him - his proud, handsome features – sat propped up against the side of the stone box.

  Soon Maliyah’s legs gave out, and she toppled to the ground. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she let out a sorrowful wail. It was the first time she’d allowed herself to release the pain and anguish she’d kept bottled up inside her—not only from her father’s passing, but from all the years she’d lost, and all the memories she’d forfeited by staying away for so long. Maliyah was grateful for her American upbringing. She relished her independence and the life she led in Italy. Nonetheless, Egypt was where her heart resided, nestled in the sand of the Sahara and along the peaceful shores of the Nile River. Originally, she’d only planned to stay in Cairo for a few days, long enough to see her father’s body put to rest. But sometimes plans changed. Maliyah owed it to him to remain in his homeland, get reacquainted with the people, and find the scumbag responsible for his death.

  Chapter Five

  The Business Dinner

  Ramses crept along the narrow, dim-lit alleys of Cairo. His Italian loafers made virtually no sound as he slipped in and out of the shadows, searching for prey. He’d risen at the first hint of sundown with an insatiable pang in the pit of his stomach. Not long after he began the hunt, he came upon a woman of the night. A prostitute. She stood on the corner, her hip cocked provocatively to one side, flaunting her curves in a form-fitting, red mini-skirt and matching bustier. Thick eye makeup and pasty, red lipstick were smeared across her haggard features.

  Not my ideal source of sustenance. But with only fifteen minutes to spare, beggars can’t be choosers, Ramses told himself. He approached the voluptuous redhead, a wicked-as-sin grin etched into the grooves of his cheeks.

  “Hey there, handsome. Lookin’ for a date?” she asked. Her bosom sat on wanton display as the words spilled off her tongue.

  Ramses took no time at all to consider her proposition. He bit down on his bottom lip and groaned as he leaned in. He stared into her dull, ashen gaze long enough to ensure total submission. “No time for a date, sweetheart. Just a tiny taste, if you’d be so kind?”

  The fiery redhead moaned as she tilted her head, offering herself up to Ramses as a sacrifice. Saliva formed in the corners of his mouth as he made contact with the skin of her throat. The soft flesh was warm to the touch. He felt his fangs protrude and without hesitation, he sank both canines into his victim’s pulsating vein.

  Ramses’ cock hardened involuntarily as he took in her hot, delicious blood. He lifted her skirt and grabbed hold of her round derrière. Then, he jerked forward, his rigid shaft thrust against her distended clitoris.

  “Come on. Fuck me, baby,” her lust-filled purr poured over him as he siphoned sustenance from her vein. On the verge of surrendering to desire, Ramses yanked on his zipper and took hold of his cock, eager to plunge into moist pussy.

  Suddenly, he felt her go limp in his arms. An underlying sense of doom nagged at Ramses, urging him to relinquish his grip on the woman. He pulled away from the waning warmth of her body; a four-inch, bloody gouge had ripped a hole into the entire length of her neck from chin to collarbone. He picked her up, and set her listless form on the curbside. Her breathing was shallow and labored, but she’d no doubt survive.

  With only minutes to spare, Ramses wiped the blood from his jaw and increased the speed of his pace. He left the woman to fend for herself, weak albeit alive. He crept steadily along, passing a row of abandoned warehouses and decrepit brick industrial buildings. An old-fashioned Irish pub that looked like a sight straight out of Dublin was tucked into a corner on the end of the narrow street. As he strolled by, Ramses’ mind filled with flashbacks, memories of the day Anwar al Aziz had stumbled upon him, and inadvertently saved his life.

  Centuries ago, a vengeful paramour had turned Ramses into a vampire against his will. Over time, he learned to forgive and forget. No use in holding grudges. He tried to make the best of things. He’d spent eight hundred years in the trade and barter industry, fleshing out a successful bounty via the various routes that encompassed the Mediterranean and Baltic Seas. Later, the Industrial Revolution welcomed the emergence of steam-powered engines and Ramses concentrated his efforts on expanding his empire to the Americas. Unfortunately, he had made an insufferably bad business decision along the way. Decades of wealth and prosperity became permanently marred by the loss of a large portion of his fortune. It was the result of a reckless investment scheme on the cusp of the American stock market crash that occurred during the mid nineteen eighties.

  Angry and depressed one night shortly thereafter, he’d gotten rip-roaring drunk at a pub similar to the one he’d just encountered. To Ramses, life simply wasn’t worth living any longer and he’d decided to meet the dawn. To end his miserable existence once and for all.

  With a dim lamppost at his back, Ramses watched the sun begin to rise, its scorching rays blistering his sensitive flesh. It was at that moment that Anwar al Aziz happened to stagger by, wallowing in his own drunken self-pity. Like a wounded tiger, Ramses lashed out at the man, and refused his offer of help. Even as his eyes changed color, his face twisted into an ugly, vampiric abomination, the young Egyptian with the kind eyes and genuine smile refused to let him die. Thinking him sick with rabies or dysentery, he found a discarded burlap sack and threw it ov
er Ramses’ head to keep from being bitten. He carried him to a nearby warehouse he owned and tried to nurse the rabid stranger back to health. However without sustenance, the vampire grew weaker with each passing day. Finally, with Anwar’s help, he was able to feed from the blood of the rats and mice that inhabited the walls and crevices of the building. To Ramses’ surprise, Anwar wasn’t the least bit fazed by the fact that he was a bloodsucker.

  Thirty years had passed since that fateful night when Ramses met the man who’d become both friend and business partner. Now that gentle soul was gone, his selfless deeds nothing more than a bittersweet collection of memories tucked away into the corners of the vampire’s mind.

  Ramses shook his head, shedding the same melancholy feeling that came over him every time he thought about Anwar. Nonetheless, he continued in the direction of the restaurant where he planned to meet Maliyah and her family, and hear her father’s last will and testament. Once he reached the shoreline, he walked about a hundred yards to the north, finding the quaint riverfront cafe situated next to an antique mall on one side and an upscale boutique on the other. He wrenched open the door of the establishment, then took a deep breath, steadying his nerves before he came face-to-face with Anwar’s daughter once again.

  Maliyah’s back was turned to him as he approached the table. Regardless, he’d recognize her a mile away. Her golden-brown hair was swept on top of her head; a series of spiraled ringlets cascaded down her neck and shoulders. No man could resist the temptation of her luminous olive-toned skin and feminine curves. The slender shape of her spine, visible through the low-cut, midnight blue cocktail dress she wore, made Ramses drool. Instantly, his shaft sprang to life.

  For fuck’s sake! What the hell is she trying to prove in that dress?

  Ramses headed for the table, his gait bold and self-assured. He had every intention of dragging Maliyah out of the restaurant by the skin of her teeth before some sex-starved son of a bitch got his hands on her. But it was too late. As Ramses got closer, he noticed Omar Hussein, the corporate lawyer in charge of Anwar’s estate lean in; the sleeve of his Armani sport coat brushed against the skin of Maliyah’s bare forearm. Though in his early fifties, the man still looked good for his age. With short, dark hair and expensive taste in just about everything, Omar had the ability to attract a woman or two. Ramses watched him as he licked his lips and took a sip of wine, staring down at his female companion with hungry eyes. It was obvious Omar’s intentions went far beyond your typical attorney-client relationship. Maliyah’s reckless behavior wasn’t any less conspicuous. No doubt aware of her tablemate’s carnal interest, she turned to face him. She batted her eyelashes and covered her mouth, laughing at whatever silly nonsense the bastard spouted off. All the while, her cousin Husani sat there without a clue of what was happening right under his nose.

  A few feet from the table, Ramses’ self-control started to wane. He wanted to yank Maliyah out of there, but first he needed to leash the beast raging inside him. He did an about-face and paced toward the men’s restroom. His fangs had already extended, which forced him to bite down on the inside of his cheeks. The metallic flavor of blood flooded his mouth. He fisted his hands as sharp, elongated claws dug into his palms. Maliyah wasn’t the sole focus of his anger. On the contrary, he had an overwhelming desire to lunge at Omar, and rip out his fluttering heart. Why was he so enraged? Had the stress of having lost his business partner and best friend set him off? Or was it the thought Maliyah flirting shamelessly with a man nearly twice her age?

  Ramses kicked open the bathroom door, headed for the sink. He splashed cold water on his face and shook the tension out of his shoulders. Closing his eyes, he counted backwards from ten to one in an effort to tamp down his fury. After a few minutes, his human countenance re-emerged. He exited the bathroom and made his way back to his dinner guests. This time, Husani spotted him and waved him over.

  “Mr. Shakir. So nice to see you again. I wasn’t sure if you were going to make it this evening,” Husani said, shaking his hand. “Of course, you know my uncle’s solicitor, Omar Hussein.”

  “Yes, Mr. Hussein and I are well-acquainted.” Ramses bowed his head slightly, but refused to accept the man’s outstretched hand. Regardless of his motives with Anwar’s daughter, Ramses didn’t trust the scoundrel. In his experience, lawyers were the scum of the earth, scrounging off of other people’s weakness and misfortune. With his best friend dead, what did his attorney have to gain? Ramses wasn’t certain, but he’d sure as hell find out.

  ***

  Maliyah felt her body react to the sound of Ramses’ sensual voice, a smooth rumble that flowed as slowly as warm molasses across exposed flesh. Heat seeped down her spinal column and through the crevice that separated her plump rear, before it crashed against the ridge of her throbbing clitoris. Maliyah arched her back and her aching bosom scraped against the fabric of the silk halter dress she wore.

  While Maliyah tried to rein in her hormones, the three men exchanged pleasantries without uttering a single word in her direction. After a few minutes of being ignored, she began to lose her patience. She glared at Ramses as he took a seat in a vacant chair across the table. She cleared her throat and prepared to let her caustic temper loose on him. But the look in his eyes stilled her. His piercing stare warned her to keep her trap shut. She knew that sometimes, her American upbringing got her into trouble. Much to her chagrin, free speech and women’s rights were frowned upon in the Middle East. That was a lesson she had yet to learn.

  Husani looked back and forth between them. He must have sensed the unspoken hostility in the room. He sighed, then crossed his arms across his chest. “You two look like you just got caught with your hands in a cookie jar. What the hell is going on here?”

  “Husani, Ramses and I—” Maliyah started to explain.

  “Ramses? I didn’t realize you were on a first-name basis with your father’s business partner. When did this happen?” Maliyah saw the vein in her cousin’s neck pulsate erratically. He lifted his chin in defiance, and then shot Ramses a menacing sneer.

  Ramses’ eyes narrowed into nearly invisible slits before he ground out a reply. “It seems your family has a way of soliciting trouble. You might want to remind your cousin not to parade around the streets of Cairo dressed in immodest, western garb. If it wasn’t for me, she’d probably have been bait for a group of self-righteous extremists.”

  “Is this true, Maliyah?” Husani shook his head in disbelief. “When?”

  Maliyah bit down on her bottom lip. She rubbed the back of her neck with her palm before she spoke. “Last night. It was just a short walk along the river. I know it was dangerous, but I couldn’t sleep after what we discussed.”

  “Are you insane?” Husani asked, jumping up from his chair before he grabbed her by the arm and pulled her to her feet. “I’m sorry gentlemen, this meeting is over. Maliyah and I are leaving. Now.”

  “Good idea. Get her home and put some clothes on her,” Ramses said with notable sarcasm as he came to Maliyah’s side and draped his coat over her bare shoulders.

  “But what about the details of Mr. Aziz’s will?” Omar placed a hand on Husani’s shoulder, as if urging him to take his seat again. “The sooner we hash out the details, the sooner I can settle your uncle’s estate.”

  Husani growled out loud, clearly furious. “Have the documents sent by courier to my uncle’s residence. We’ll review them and be in touch.” He pulled Maliyah close and guided her to the exit, leaving the solicitor to pay the tab.

  Over her shoulder, Maliyah could see Ramses following close behind them. As the restaurant door closed, she heard something whiz past her ear, but before she could turn to see what it was, Ramses rushed forward, pushing both her and Husani to the ground. She landed with a thud on the sandy bank. A split-second later, a tiny round object lodged itself into the glass of a nearby window. Instantly, the glass splintered, taking on the appearance of an intricate spider web.

  Oh my god! A bullet.


  “Is that what I think it is?” Husani asked, brushing sand off his trousers as he stood up.

  “Fuck! I knew you were a magnet for trouble,” Ramses rolled his eyes at Maliyah before turning his attention to her cousin. “Where’s your car? We need to get her out of here.”

  “We’re not going anywhere with you. How can I be sure the attempt on her life wasn’t your doing? You’ve got a lot to gain if she’s out of the picture.”

  Maliyah saw Ramses rise up to his full, intimidating height. She could have sworn the color of his eyes flickered black, then red and back again. He stalked toward Husani as if ready to rip off his head. Thinking fast, she stepped in front of his menacing frame, stopping him in his tracks.

  “It’s okay, Husani. If Ramses wanted to hurt me, he could have done so last night. We’ve got to trust him. He’s willing to help us find out what really happened to my father.”

  Chapter Six

  The Guard Dog

  “No freakin’ way!” Maliyah shouted, wagging her long, delicate finger in front of Ramses’ face. “I’ve already got one guard dog in the house. I’ll be damned if I let another one run amuck.”

  Ramses shook his head in disapproval. “This is not up for discussion, Maliyah. Husani and I have come to an understanding. We have to keep you safe and the only way to do that is for both of us to stay close. I’m moving my belongings into the room adjacent to yours. End of discussion.”

  Maliyah glanced at Husani, trying to gauge his reaction. But he remained silent. Stoic. It was obvious that whatever bullshit Ramses fed him, he’d bought it hook, line, and sinker.

  “Fine!” With her hands on her hips, Maliyah turned her back on them and stomped up the stairs to her suite. She slammed the door so hard, the windows shook inside their frames. “Un-fucking-believable.”