by L. A. Banks
A silent prayer bubbled up within her the farther away they got from the monuments and the more hills and sand dunes they traversed. This part was not in the bright brochures posted in the airport and at the guest services desk.
But when the lead camel skidded to a braying halt and could not be pulled forward, Azrael dismounted with a one-handed vault and hit the sand. He held up a hand to signal the caravan to stop and for the camel driver to stop urging the freaked-out beast forward.
“Send them back,” Azrael yelled above the wind that was kicking up.
Bath Kol dismounted with the other brothers as the camels began an open revolt, backing up and refusing to go forward.
“Over there!” Isda shouted above the now howling wind.
Celeste shielded her eyes against sand and debris, having to hold on with one hand as her animal rocked and pitched, trying to turn back to camp. But she saw it in the distance, the deep grooves of a pentagram etched in the sand that was quickly being covered over.
“We go back!” the lead driver shouted.
Isda drew away from the site and the brothers jogged back toward animals that now refused to lie down in the sand to be mounted. Bits of rock and stones bit into Celeste’s skin, forcing all of them to use their forearms to shield their faces. But the camel drivers simply used the long, checkered headwraps to cover all but their eyes.
Azrael immediately ripped his shirt over his head, ran up to Celeste’s camel, and handed it up to her for covering her face. Aziza unfurled her headwrap while trying to hold on to her mount, while Gavreel and Paschar gave up their shirts, too. However, that strategy, as chivalrous as it was, alerted the camel drivers that every man in the group was packing. Given that the desert seemed to function like the Wild, Wild West, that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. But it would be hard to explain to heavy-artillery-packing guards at the monuments when they got back.
As much as Celeste hated riding a camel and the smell of the sweaty beast, she found herself hunkered down close to its long neck; that is, until it snapped at her to get off him.
The way the animal swung around suddenly, the shifting sand, and her surprise toppled her. In a running leap that looked like an NFL, horizontal pigskin reach, Azrael caught her, buffering most of the fall as they hit the sand with a thud—but the moment their bodies touched the sand, a thousand scorpions belched from beneath them. The sand boiled with the venomous little creatures, potential death by a thousand stings scrambling up toward their bodies.
Azrael’s wings were instantly out and he was in the air in seconds with her in his arms, pure reflex, as camels bleated and took off running with their freaked-out camel drivers screaming and fleeing behind them. Running hard against the gale-force wind, Gavreel, Paschar, and Bath Kol were forced to take to the air the moment they saw Aziza’s camel’s legs become engulfed by black serpents. Melissa’s scream rent the air as something began pulling her and Maggie’s mounts into the sand as if they had stepped into a bog. The poor animals thrashed, making them sink quicker as Paschar and Gavreel swooped in for aerial rescues while the sand turned red with the camels’ blood.
“Get back to the van!” Isda yelled against the howling wind, both hands on a nine while hovering in the air.
“No!” Azrael shouted. “That will only draw the darkness toward the tourists!”
“I have to get that van, mon—given what’s in it! You meet me over by the Sphinx and fly in low. Sandstorm is your cover, then walk out and find me!”
Chapter 6
Celeste kept her legs wrapped around Azrael’s waist and her face pressed against his neck, shielding her eyes from the stones and debris that pelted their bodies. With every wing stroke, she could feel him straining against the elements as the muscles in his chest, neck, and shoulders moved beneath his skin like steel cable, pulling and releasing the power of his flight.
He flew in the lead creating a V-formation that she knew had to lessen the air drag for the angels that flew in his wake. They were set up the same way migrating birds took to the air, each one’s flight supporting the next individual’s to better aid the entire flock, and they never left their own. But that meant as the strongest flier, Azrael took the brunt of the sand invasion that was so harsh it blotted out the unrelenting sun. Then, just like that, the storm was over.
Celeste looked up and over her shoulder. Angry sand dervishes formed columns of funnel clouds back where they’d been attacked, but didn’t follow them. Then she looked over Azrael’s shoulder as he dropped them lower to whiz by the ground only thirty feet above it.
The majesty of the jaw-dropping structure before her fought for a place in her mind with the reality that they no longer had the storm as a cover. They were flying up to the back side of the Sphinx, the most magnificent structure she’d ever seen in her life. The Great Pyramids had stolen her breath, but this took her mind.
Tourists were climbing the rocks on a high ridge that allowed them to get up to shoulder level with the giant structure, but where it actually rested at the base was off-limits. There was no way they’d fly in and not be seen—especially since most people there had both cameras and binoculars.
Then before the thought could even form, Azrael let go of her with one hand. Her scream pierced her skeleton as she grabbed hold of him more tightly. Was he insane? They were barreling forward at seventy to eighty miles an hour and he let go? But then just as quickly, he stretched out his hand and a calm, blue-white wash of atmosphere surrounded them. All ambient noise was gone. She could no longer hear the wind rushing by her ears. All she could hear was the steady drone of his wings beating the air.
She looked up, but his focus was forward, his brows were knit, and his eyes were blue-white and glowing with unspent rage. She looked back as they rounded the face of the Sphinx and gaped at the aerial view of it with the pyramids framing it. That’s when she wondered how anyone couldn’t believe in something greater than normal humanity. One piece of antiquity, carved from what looked like a single piece of granite, stones ten to twelve feet high, twice her height, placed so exactly, so perfectly—with complex chambers inside the structure—not only did the pyramids rival the tallest skyscrapers in the modern world, but to this day still no one knew how they were created.
As she held on to an angel, her angel, she knew angels had to have touched this African civilization. Perhaps they were indeed mistaken for gods with a little g, or even aliens that flew in from the sky, but if this is what they’d lent to the development of human culture on the planet, there was a strong argument for giving them reverence.
To her panic, Azrael suddenly folded in his wings and dive-bombed toward their target with his arms held in tightly against his body. The wind whizzed past her as he spiraled like a bullet toward the outskirts of the parking lot where Isda’s lone van sat idling. The others behind them followed suit, and she could hear multiple screams echoing to join hers, creating a Doppler effect. Then just like that, Azrael opened his wings as if they were giant parachutes, beating in toward her to hold him upright as he came to a running landing.
Isda threw open the van door. Azrael dropped her quickly and pulled her forward by a hand to enter the vehicle. Bath Kol was the last in and slammed the door, holding on to the seat backs with his head hung low, breathing hard as Isda peeled off.
“I gotta stop smoking,” Bath Kol said, sweat dripping off his face. “But do you mind telling me, what the fuck was that?”
The other brothers gulped air and opened bottles of water, momentarily unable to speak after their recent exertion.
“The reverse of hallowed ground,” Celeste said, accepting a water that Azrael handed her.
“What?” Isda glanced over his shoulder as they passed the pyramids.
“Look,” she said, pointing out the window and wishing the air-conditioning worked a lot better. “Nobody is freaked out, nobody saw a thing, and whatever was after us didn’t pursue us there. Those pyramids used to be tombs—right? where they laid the pharaohs
. So no doubt they were well prayed over and consecrated. But further out where we were … well, hey. And whatever was after us came at us just like I imagine stuff from our side would go after an agent of darkness that treaded on hallowed ground.”
“Lady’s got a very logical point,” Isda said. He kept his eyes on the road and then made a sudden U-turn.
“Yo!” Gavreel shouted, and Bath Kol toppled into an open seat. “Where you going, hombre?”
“Back to the greatest temple in the world,” Isda said in a somber tone. “We can’t just ride all over the freakin’ desert. We need vision, insight, a place to hear through the veil better—especially since our boy here seems like he’s getting stronger.” Isda glanced up into the rearview mirror. “A sight-and-sound cloak for a small flying squadron, Az? You couldn’t do that in the States, mon.”
Azrael nodded. “I don’t know what’s happening to me here, man.”
“Yeah, well, put your shirts on and let’s go find out.”
This time when they ran the vendor gauntlet, the expressions on each warrior’s face seemed to keep back all but the little children. Azrael just dropped a handful of bills and kept walking, eyes now normal brown, but expression as resolute as the stone before them. The line before them was short at this hour, and guards waved their hands as though to motion that the park was about to close. But Isda held up a wad of cash, and that seemed to solve the overtime dilemma.
“Nubian, Nubian brother, come, come your family,” one gate worker said with a wide smile glinting within his sun-burnished face.
“We want to wait until the other tourists are out,” Azrael replied, adding to Isda’s cash offering.
“No problems, no problems,” the worker said, gaining consensus from the other workers that now huddled around.
In the distance Celeste saw a dispute arising in the camel drivers’ area. Their drivers had just returned, missing four animals, and were waving their hands wildly.
Celeste discreetly motioned with her chin toward the ruckus that was unfolding near the camels. Azrael nodded and began walking toward them.
“Yo, mon, where you going?” Isda asked, catching up to Azrael in three fast steps and then holding him by the biceps.
Bath Kol was right on Isda’s heels.
“To pay them for the unfortunate loss of their live stock … and to help them remember things a little differently,” Azrael replied calmly.
Bath Kol and Isda glanced at each other as Celeste joined in the small, private huddle away from the exhibit-entrance guards.
“You think that’s a good idea, Az? Like, the last thing we need to do is draw attention that we’re back.” She looked around Azrael and then up at him.
“The lady has a serious point, mon.”
Bath Kol nodded. “Especially since we’re not really supposed to be manipulating humans and all that jazz.”
“We are also not supposed to allow them to suffer. These men are poor. The loss of a beast of burden means the loss of their livelihood in a very unforgiving landscape. The camels might not even be theirs or paid for, and if that’s the case, their bosses could exact the toll of thievery upon them in an Arab nation, which could be severe for something they did not do. Their stories would never be believed, and who knows if the mere mention of it could get them stoned or worse. Our edict was to do no harm to mankind. Just our tripping over a supernatural land mine did harm. It must be corrected.”
Azrael lifted his chin and strode away. Bath Kol shrugged and rubbed the hot nape of his neck and then squinted up at the sun. “Hey, you know how he is when he gets like this. There’s no talking to the man.”
Just like that, it was settled. The threesome trudged back to stand with the others at the opening of the vast tomb, all eyes on Azrael as the guards smoked cigarettes and sized up the women in the small group. Upon Azrael’s approach, men ran and arms waved as a group leader chastised the fleeing camel drivers. He threw a cigarette butt on the ground, then several other men who hadn’t witnessed the event dragged the screaming men to stand before Azrael.
The stricken guards began to stand, then suddenly the screaming men stood calmly and then laughed as Azrael pulled out a large bankroll from his pocket—one he hadn’t had before. No one had to tell her that some angelic sleight of hand was going on. She and her sisters shared a knowing look. Resources were being manifested from the ether to fill pockets; minds were being calmed—all happening quietly right before her eyes.
Shoulders in that group relaxed. Men laughed. Guards lowered weapons and spoke to each other in a language she couldn’t understand, but their body language told her everything she needed to know. The leader of the camel drivers’ area accepted the bills and held some out for the previously shaken men, who hugged Azrael. Apparently he’d well overpaid for their losses.
After ten tense minutes of negotiations, Azrael returned to the group just as the last of the tourists were being flushed from the Great Pyramid. Eager to please the wealthy American who was flashing lots of cash, the guards scrambled to accommodate Azrael’s request that his party be the only ones allowed in.
“Wait, wait, Diddy,” one said. “I clear for you, okay?”
“I’ll make sure no one comes behind you,” another said proudly, saluting Azrael. “You play this football … basketball?”
Azrael smiled and shook his head. “No, man.”
“You movie star—or like a music man … rap star?”
Isda burst out laughing. “Naw, dude can’t carry a tune.”
Seeming confused but deciding it wasn’t in their best interest to continue asking questions, the guards dropped the queries and went through the structure, leaving a couple to handle the payoff details. After several long, hot minutes they emerged, sweating and smiling.
“It’s all good, boss,” the first out of the structure exclaimed.
“I take pictures?” another offered, clearly wanting to get in on the payday.
Azrael handed each man Egyptian currency what was worth a hundred US dollars. “No pictures, no guards—private.”
The guards looked at each other sheepishly. One looked away as the leader came in close to Azrael.
“You cannot desecrate the monument with the ladies … not even for money.”
“No!” Azrael said, holding up his hands in front of his chest. “Just prayer.”
“Ohhhhh! You had me worried. You have no idea what people try to do within the great walls here!” The man looked embarrassed and wiped his forehead. “But prayer is not really allowed either, except for the right gift, how and when a man prays …” He shrugged and glanced around at his buddies, who were all smiles.
Azrael nodded and peeled off several more bills. “A tithe?”
The man nodded. “It is right to share, my friend.”
“Can we go in now?” Bath Kol muttered.
“Yes, yes, but be careful—the way is steep and you are tall. Go low, low, bend and watch your heads.”
This time Isda took the lead as they entered the dark; Azrael brought up the rear. Two brothers were in front, two in back, with one as a security checkpoint in the center between the women. Instant claustrophobia assailed Celeste as they bent in the tight, stone confines and began what amounted to a ten-story trek straight up, holding small handrails, bent over to walk beneath the four-and-a-half-foot-high ceiling. The steps, such as they were, amounted to slats placed close together and not deep enough for a modern foot to fit. If she was having trouble, she couldn’t imagine how the guys, who stood well over six feet tall with shoes sizes and body mass twice hers, were faring.
No ventilation and insufferable heat added to dusty conditions that caused wheezing even if one wasn’t asthmatic. But for sure, this space was sacred and was meant for the original purpose it served—to bury a king. It was not meant to be a theme-park exhibit, but that’s what it had been turned into for the sake of tourism, and yet who could blame the local government for finally being the last to cash in on their own nat
ional treasures after, according to Isda, they’d been grave-robbed for centuries?
Then, most remarkably, when her legs were just about ready to give out, the tunnel opened up into a large stone room that was ten feet or more in height with a vacant stone coffin in its center. Angel brothers gathered around the coffin, with her and her sisters interspersed between them. Her nerves were wire taut as she looked at the way they’d slowly come in and the only one way they could get out. She breathed through a panic attack and fisted her hands at her sides. If scorpions or snakes or anything insane bubbled forth from the walls, they were trapped. Everyone seemed to be thinking the same thing, and they all looked at Isda for guidance as he lowered his head in a moment of silent prayer.
But when he opened his eyes, they shimmered with tears, and his inner light had begun to flicker behind his pupils. Bath Kol was the first to catch it, and he glanced at Pas-char, who offered a discreet nod. Azrael backed the women in the group up just a bit, and Gavreel edged closer to Isda.
“You all right, man?” Gavreel said in a peace-inducing tone.
“Am … I … all right, the man asks?” Isda shook his head and chuckled sadly. “How can I be all right?”
“Okay, this was a bad idea. Let Az take the ladies out of here,” Bath Kol said, heading for the open doorway. “We can do this divination with me, you, and Paschar—we get the vision, then we’ll be out.”
“How the hell can a man be all right, seeing this?” Isda suddenly shouted, his emotions exploding violently. He punched the wall, causing a chunk of stone to fall from it as his wings spread, ripping his T-shirt. “They took the bodies! Mummies are our ancestors—they took the bodies of our children! They have them on a road show all over the world! This place used to be green, mon! It was fertile, beautiful, and now—look at it! They have pissed in the monuments and smoked cigarette butts on these graves—and you ask me if I’m all right?”