Sands of Time (Out of Time #6)

by Monique Martin

  “Yeah.”

  Whiteside nodded. “Hathor’s mirror. Sekhmet is an aspect of Hathor. The mirror is supposed to reflect your power, increase it. There are several magical papyri that have spells utilizing the mirrors for scrying, divination.”

  Elizabeth felt a lead weight settle in her stomach like a bad burrito.

  “And the other wax figure?” Simon asked.

  Whiteside frowned. “They were commonly used in curses or spells against your enemies.”

  She and Simon certainly qualified there, Elizabeth thought. Why make the doll of just the man? Was she after Simon specifically for some reason? She hated the idea of either of them being a voodoo doll in Vale’s house of crazy.

  Elizabeth glanced over at her husband and could see the wheels spinning in his mind, turning over the question.

  Whiteside frowned and stroked his chin. “I am troubled by the athame, the dagger and chalice though.”

  “Daggers are never good,” Elizabeth said.

  Whiteside smiled kindly. “No, but in this case doubly so, I’m afraid. You see sacrifices weren’t uncommon. Typically, bulls and small animals.”

  He sighed and continued. “However, the goddess Sekhmet has an unusual proclivity.”

  His usually jovial face grew quite serious. “According to legend, the God Ra believed man was plotting against him and so he sent Sekhmet to destroy humanity. She cut and maimed and disemboweled nearly all of the men of earth, until the few survivors begged for mercy. Ra granted it, but Sekhmet’s savagery once started could not be stopped.”

  Elizabeth had a sinking feeling.

  “Ra cast beer, tinted with red ochre, onto the land and into the Nile,” Whiteside continued. “Thinking it was blood, Sekhmet drank until she could be subdued. However, her thirst was never sated. And some say the only way to summon her is by offering her blood. Human blood.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Whiteside’s words echoed in Elizabeth’s mind. It was hard not to think of them. Blood sacrifices sort of stick with a person. Elizabeth felt a tingle along her breastbone and shivered.

  “All right?” Simon asked as he placed his hand on the small of her back as they navigated their way through the crowded vestibule toward the requisite cocktails before dinner.

  “Just thinking about what Arthur said.”

  Simon grunted in agreement. “Yes, vivid imagery. Blood lust and revenge. That, unfortunately, sounds right up Vale’s alley, doesn’t it?”

  Elizabeth saw the Everetts by the long bar and led Simon in the other direction.

  Vale had been fixated on vengeance before. That sort of deep-seated hatred didn’t just fade away. It was nurtured.

  “Do you think she went to all of this trouble for us?” Elizabeth asked. “I mean, why not just…”

  “Kill us?” Simon said.

  Elizabeth tried to shush him, but he just smiled.

  “Saying it doesn’t make it come true,” he said.

  Elizabeth wanted to argue that it might and why chance it, but Simon had already moved on to something else.

  “There’s one thing that bothers me,” he said.

  “Just one?”

  He gave her a wry smile before continuing. “The blond hair. If the fifth figure is supposed to be me…”

  “Unless it’s not you,” Elizabeth said as she realized the obvious. “This is about revenge, but maybe not against us. There’s someone she hates even more.”

  “Graham.” Simon paused and then looked around. Nodding toward an empty spot on the veranda, he put his hand on the small of her back and urged her toward it.

  “If it is Graham she’s after,” he said softly. “Why come here?”

  “Because she couldn’t find him anywhere else,” Elizabeth said, the pieces falling into place. “Travers said Graham was running for his life. What if she tried to find him, but couldn’t.”

  Simon nodded thoughtfully. “The Council sends her here to retrieve the watch and she seizes on the opportunity to use her ‘powers’ to find the man that betrayed her.”

  “Now, that sounds like the woman I know and fear.”

  Simon laughed lightly. “Yes, it does. She spent years crafting her revenge on Graham only to be thwarted—”

  “By us,” Elizabeth reminded him unnecessarily.

  Simon frowned. “We are betrayers,” he said. “In her mind, at least.”

  That was what the cult member in the jail had called them. When you make enemies, Elizabeth thought, try to avoid the rich, powerful, lunatic kind.

  “Well,” Simon said, “whatever trickery she used to get here, the involvement of the cult and the objects Jack and Diana found point to something more troubling than simply retrieving one of the lost watches.”

  Elizabeth paused while the waiter took their drink order. Once he was gone, she leaned forward. “I wish you’d let me carry the watch some.”

  Simon laughed, but not unkindly. His eyes moved up and down her body, appreciating the sheer silk of her dress and the way it clung to her figure. “And you’d put it exactly where?”

  Elizabeth pouted. “Ok, but still. I feel like it makes you a target.”

  Simon took her hand. He smiled, grateful for her concern, but melancholy as well. “Even without the watch…”

  They were still targets. They might not be on the top of the hit list, but they were still in the top three. And, despite everything they’d learned, Vale was still one step ahead of them.

  They both fell into a thoughtful silence and the cocktail party swirled around them, joyful and blissfully unaware. A small orchestra started to play and the hum of voices increased as more people poured into the parlor bar and veranda.

  Elizabeth took a sip of her Gin Rickey and tried to stop dwelling on things she couldn’t change and start looking for things she could. That’s when she noticed Ahmed.

  He was standing at the top of the steps looking out over the garden, clearly searching for someone. A couple paused as they passed and the men shook hands. Ahmed smiled graciously as they exchanged pleasantries and then went right back to his search.

  He scanned the garden intently and Elizabeth knew exactly when he’d found what he was looking for. His entire posture changed. He gripped the top rail of the balustrade and his chest heaved as he let out an enormous sigh.

  Elizabeth followed his line of sight. Christina.

  Ahmed started down the steps, but was briefly distracted by another greeting. When he turned his attention back to Christina, the moment or his courage seemed lost. He looked down into his drink and then turned away, and leaned against the large pillar at the top of the steps and pressed his head back into the marble.

  “Back in a sec,” Elizabeth said.

  Simon looked like he was about to ask where she was going, but saw her glance in Ahmed’s direction and sighed. “Elizabeth…”

  She arched her eyebrows in feigned innocence. “Just going to say hello.”

  Simon raised his hand to argue, all the reasons she shouldn’t ready on his lips, but from the look in her eyes he knew it was a losing cause and settled for a resigned shake of his head.

  Elizabeth kissed his cheek and then crossed the veranda to where Ahmed stood looking absolutely, Shakespearean-level forlorn.

  “Hello again,” Elizabeth said.

  Ahmed jumped to attention as if he’d been stuck with a cattle prod. He cleared his throat. “Hello, Mrs. Cross.”

  First things first. “Why were you meeting with Katherine Vale today?”

  His eyebrows shot up. “How did you—”

  Her gut told her he wasn’t involved in anything other than regular business things, but she had to be sure. “Are you working for her?”

  She watched and carefully gauged his reaction.

  “Yes, well, for the museum and the antiquities department for the dig.”

  Elizabeth narrowed her eyes. Aside from being confused, he was telling the truth. She’d bet her life on it. In fact, she realized, she was. And not jus
t hers. “Avoid Vale as much as you can. She’s not someone you want in your life,” Elizabeth said.

  Still confused, he nodded.

  “Unlike someone else,” Elizabeth said, her eyes finding Christina in the garden.

  His gaze followed hers and instantly got that gauzy, far away look that young lovers and sick kittens got.

  Elizabeth slipped her arm through his and led him away from the high traffic area near the steps. “I know it’s none of my business,” she said, “but that’s really never stopped me before, so I’m going to stick my nose in. You can tell me to bugger off, but I’d say you owe me enough to hear me out.”

  Ahmed nodded, still baffled.

  “Why did you break up with Christina?” she asked. “You broke her heart, you know?”

  “I did not want that,” he said earnestly. “I just…I could see no other way.”

  “Do you love her?”

  Ahmed frowned. “You are very direct.”

  Elizabeth shrugged. “And also interfering, but that doesn’t answer my question. Do you love her?”

  She could see him debate whether to walk away or accept her help. After a long moment, he sighed. “With all my heart.”

  Elizabeth laid a hand on his forearm. “Then there’s always a way.”

  Ahmed smiled and shook his head. “Even if she forgave me, her father would never accept me.”

  “He’s not so bad—”

  Ahmed held up his hand. “I did not mean to say he was. He is a good man, who does not think I am good enough for his daughter.”

  Elizabeth felt for him. He was right about Arthur. But there was one trump card in that. “He loves her as much as you do. In the end, that will win out over everything else.”

  Hope sparked in his eyes and he looked out into the garden. “Do you think there’s really a chance she might forgive me?”

  “It won’t be easy.” Elizabeth remembered her own broken heart. She’d stomped around New York with it dangling from her sleeve. “You’ll have to grovel.”

  “I will.”

  “A lot.”

  A smile danced on the edges of his eyes. “I would do anything.”

  “Start with I’m sorry, and end with I love you,” Elizabeth said. “And let your heart fill in the gaps in between.”

  Ahmed grinned. “Yes. Thank you.”

  He started toward the stairs, but stopped. “Are all American women as…”

  “Bossy?” Elizabeth supplied.

  He laughed. “Outspoken as you are?”

  “If they’re from Texas, probably,” Elizabeth said with a grin. “Now, go on.”

  Ahmed nodded and hurried to the stairs, passing Simon on the way.

  “Have you finished meddling?” Simon said as he joined her and watched Ahmed approach Christina. “Our table is ready.”

  Elizabeth gave him a sour look and turned to watch the fruits of her labor as Ahmed spoke with Christina. She’d moved to walk away as soon as he approached, but he reached out to her and, reluctantly, she’d stayed.

  From the looks of things, he was groveling and she was listening. It was a start.

  “Young love,” someone said behind her.

  Elizabeth couldn’t suppress the chill that ran through her at the sound of Katherine Vale’s voice. She and Simon turned to find Vale standing just a few feet away. Elizabeth felt Simon’s arm slip around her back.

  Vale sauntered over to the railing. “So life affirming, isn’t it?” she said and then turned. “Except of course, when it rips your heart out.”

  She smiled again and Elizabeth could feel the crazy coming off her.

  “Her father adores her,” Vale said, gazing out at Christina again.

  “You’ll excuse us,” Simon said, and started to usher Elizabeth away.

  “What about you?” Vale asked casually before they could leave. “Did you try to have children? And fail?”

  Elizabeth glared at her and Vale smiled.

  “No,” she said, smiling again as if she’d been given a gift. “But you’re worried, aren’t you?”

  Elizabeth hated that Vale could see through her so clearly, but the more she struggled to conceal her feelings the more transparent she became.

  Vale glanced back at Christina as Whiteside appeared and bullied Ahmed away. “You never stop worrying, I suppose,” Vale said and then turned back, appraising Elizabeth with keen eyes. “Some have more reason than others, of course.”

  Elizabeth started to take a step forward, but Simon’s hold stopped her. “Stay away from her.”

  “Away from Christina?” Vale said, sounding insulted and surprised. “Why ever would I harm her?”

  “You can save your performance for someone else,” Simon said. “We know what you are.”

  Vale feigned shock. “Do you?” She took a step closer, graceful and powerfully confident. “I don’t think you have any idea who I am.”

  Simon stepped between Elizabeth and Vale and steered Elizabeth away.

  “I’m sorry you don’t have children yet,” Vale said behind them. “I’d love to meet them.”

  The chill Elizabeth felt at the words lingered all through dinner and all through the night.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  “Gymkhana!” Elizabeth shouted happily and without reason.

  Simon smiled and shook his head.

  All she could do was shrug. Some words just begged to be shouted. Gymkhana, like Tequila, was one of them. And besides, she loved races and this one promised water buffalo.

  After their run-in with Vale last night, Elizabeth needed something, anything to get rid of the fidgets. Sitting around all day, waiting for something bad to happen just made her as nervous as a fly in a gluepot. Thankfully, Whiteside seemed to be of the same mind and invited them to the weekly gymkhana. Being here was the perfect diversion.

  Elizabeth sighed happily and resumed slapping herself with her fly whisk. The only thing there were more of than race day spectators were flies. The fly whisk Whiteside had given her had an ivory handle and long horsehair for swatting. Some were wooden with split palm leaves, but whatever they were made of they were indispensable. The crowd looked a little like a bunch of horse’s backends, the tails swinging and swatting bothersome flies. Elizabeth had felt a little silly at first, slapping herself on the head with it, but soon she fell into the same ten-second rhythm as everyone else and forgot about it and the flies.

  “Poor chap!” Whiteside said as one of the donkey racers bounced right off his mount and landed unceremoniously on his rear. Of course, he had no reins to hold onto. The racers had to face backwards, steering by twisting the poor little donkeys’ tails. The result was a zigzagging, haphazard race with more donkeys ending up in the crowd than on the course.

  Whiteside handed Christina his opera glasses. She pursed her lips, obviously still unhappy with him for his interference in her relationship with Ahmed. But he persisted and she took the glasses, even managing a small smile as the crowd cheered and roared with laughter as the riderless donkey carried merrily on and won.

  Even Simon smiled at that. He’d been tense. Heck, they’d both been tense after their run-in with Vale and the platter of heebie-jeebies she brought to every party. They desperately needed a break from it, and nothing could have better served their need. It was more than just a series of races. It was a test of skills, usually with thrilling, sometimes hilarious results.

  Elizabeth was sorry Jack had missed this. He and Diana had “other plans.” She honestly wasn’t sure if that meant hanky-panky or jumping from roof to roof in a race for their lives. Either way, she missed him, but was glad he’d found a partner in crime. She glanced over at hers—Simon. While he was more of an Ascot sort than a fly-swatting gymkhana sort, he still seemed to be enjoying himself, even if only for a few hours.

  The races, such as they were, were held on a wide straight course on a small bluff above the river. A few wooden risers had been set-up near the finish line for the wealthy spectators, but most
simply lined the two-hundred yard course. First, there had been water bearers with enormous jugs of water on their heads. Then boys and their donkeys, followed by camel races. The camels’ legs looked so ungainly and wild, it was a miracle they didn’t tangle on the way.

  “Oh, Fuzzy-Wuzzies!” Whiteside cried in delight.

  “What’s that?” Elizabeth said, craning her neck to see.

  Whiteside handed her his opera glasses and Elizabeth focused them on the far end of the field and saw tall, handsome North African tribesmen. “Fuzzy-Wuzzies?”

  “It’s from a Kipling poem,” Simon said. “Has to do with their hair. They’re actually Hadendoa warriors.” He frowned as the racers grew closer. “In a three-legged race.”

  Elizabeth had her umbrage unpacked and ready to wave around, when she realized that the races were an equal opportunity way to embarrass oneself. The next affinity race was European women riding, but mostly falling off donkeys as they tried to put on hats.

  The water buffalo race was unruly and frightening. Shrieks of terror erupted from the crowd as one veered off course and headed straight for them until some brave soul jumped out and rerouted the beast. The young woman won a round of applause for her efforts.

  Finally, at the end of the day were the horse races. Beautiful Arabians with their proud, arched necks sped down the track, their bareback riders seeming to float just above them the whole way. They were magnificent.

  “Over here now,” Whiteside said as the crowd began to funnel toward the river. “Careful, my dear,” he said as he held out his hand to help his daughter make her way down the wooden risers.

  Elizabeth and Simon followed Whiteside as he led them to the top of a narrow dike where men, women, donkeys, carriages, camels and the rest all rushed headlong and at full-speed in one final race into the river. Donkeys brayed, camels grunted, and people squealed and screeched in delight as the entire throng splashed about in the river. It was absolute chaos, joyous, exhausting chaos.

  After the excitement of the gymkhana and the increasing heat of the mid-afternoon, all Elizabeth wanted was a cool bath and a little lie in before afternoon tea and their inevitable dose of Katherine Vale.