She stopped and stared up at him, her green eyes wide with fury. “I don’t need a name. I’m not conjuring him up. He’s here already.”
Her curly hair a wild black cloud around her face, she was even more beautiful than before. She took his breath away.
“Please.” He tried to calm her, make her understand the risks. “I’m a psychiatrist, remember? This one is unpredictable, maybe even insane. If I can get his name out of him, it may give us a way to control him. He sees you with me, he could get the wrong idea, think we’re—”
“We’re what?”
“Involved. Better you stay behind. I can use the radioactive isotope detector. I can track him. I can confront him.”
“Even if Homeland Security allowed me to deputize you, I can’t send an unarmed shrink off to hunt down an ‘Ifrit.” Eliana leaped into the car and the engine roared to life. Clutching the metal case, he raced to the passenger side and jumped in as she peeled away from the curb. Pedal to the metal, she forced the vehicle down the blacktop toward the winery.
She poked at his upper arm. “Unless you have some super-powers up your sleeve, you're flying on a wing and a prayer on your own.”
He sighed and stared at the signet ring on her hand. Where should he begin his story? She showed him her scars. Perhaps it was time to show his.
“I need to tell you about that assignment in Arizona and about my father.” He started with the explosion, then waking up naked in tribal territory, then went on to describe his experience in Chevy Chase, and his mother’s revelations. He finished with the chase in the forest and his new found control of his shape-shifting ability.
Ten minutes later she pulled into the winery parking lot, turned off the engine, and stared at him in silence.
He tried another approach. “I know it sounds like I’m crazy—”
“Crazy? What’s crazy is you keeping this from me for so long.” She slammed her palm on the steering wheel. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me this sooner? It’s not as if I don’t work with werewolves for heaven’s sake. Why wouldn’t you trust me with this information? What’s wrong with you?”
He burst out laughing. “What’s—wrong—you say?”
Her stern expression cracked, and she giggled until she gasped for air.
“Oh. My. God. We are like the start of a bad joke: A jinni-hunting Jew and a shape-shifting Muslim walk up to an ‘Ifrit in a cave.” Shoulders shaking, she wiped tears off her face. “My poor father’s going to explode.”
“He already hates me for leaving you in Arizona. Is it because I’m Muslim?”
“No,” she chortled. “Because he’s allergic to cats.”
She opened the door and snickered all the way to the trunk.
He climbed out of the vehicle, and the heavy metal case banged against his thigh. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”
“All this time, I thought you ran away from me. Until this trip, I thought you never wanted to see me again.”
“Quite the opposite.” If she knew how much he wanted her, she’d probably be more afraid of him than the jinni. “How are we going to drag these PPEs with us?”
She pointed to his enormous wheeled suitcase, still in the trunk of the car. “Empty that and stuff them in there, along with the blueprints, water bottles, and protein bars. I’ll warm up the radioactive isotope identifier. We’ll carry our head gear, get dressed when we get into the wine cellar after we find the door in the floor plans Adalwolf gave me.”
They walked toward the showroom and Arta scanned the winery for signs of life. Oddly silent, the building echoed with their footsteps and the squeak of the suitcase wheels. He glanced around and whispered, “Did Adalwolf send everyone home?”
“Why are you whispering?”
He shrugged.
“My guess is the hospital evacuation sent people into a frenzy. Small town, lots of relatives. There were crowds of people milling around beyond the yellow tape.”
“I don’t like it. Too quiet. Someone should be here. At least a security guard?”
“You’re right about that.” She stopped. Scanned the area. “Hello? Anybody here?”
Eyes wide, head cocked to one side, her concentration gave him an opportunity to admire her long, nibble-worthy neck.
She shrugged. “Let’s keep moving.”
Dragging their equipment, Arta found an elevator, and they took that rather than the narrow staircase down to the chilly wine cave.
“There.” She pointed to a large dark tapestry framed with gold embroidery. A harvest scene in a vineyard woven in muted grays, purples, greens, with splashes of orange and yellow, contrasted with the bright white walls of the wine cellar. She motioned for him to assist her in pulling it away from a wall.
“This must weigh over two-hundred pounds.” A flat baseboard kept the rug snug to the wall, but made it difficult to lift and keep elevated. “Hold on.” He dragged a partially full metal wine rack over and draped the wool artwork over it. If they got out alive, Arta would gift Adalwolf with a colorful and lightweight Persian carpet instead of this dusty old rug. Tucked beneath the textile was a dark wood door.
“If the jinni came through here, why is this still in place?”
She shook her head. “Old Thiess has been working here for years. He’s familiar with every nook and cranny of this property. He’s gone into the tunnels some other way. This is the easiest way for us.” She yanked open the suitcase and shimmied into her PPE. “I hate tunnels and caves. This is like my worst nightmare.”
“It’s not too late. You can still go back.”
She grinned and her green eyes danced with mischief. “What? And miss watching you turn into a lion? No way.”
“Be careful what you wish for.”
“You too, my friend.” She held her headgear up and pointed to the side. “Press this button for the radiocomm. You can leave it on, if you want. It’s the only way we can communicate with each other in these suits.”
He pressed the button. “I am lion, hear me roar.”
“You need a new pick up line.” She grabbed her instrument and the backpack. “Put on your head lamp and watch your step.”
His breath rasped loud in his ears and sweat began to trickle down his back. Arta gripped his metal case with slippery rubber gloves and followed the bobbing light. Metal beams supported the wide struts overhead. Below, train tracks led the way deeper into the bowels of the abandoned mine.
“Anything?”
Eliana’s voice crackled in his ear. “The instrument’s just picking up normal background radiation. Nothing to write home about.”
He spotted a small wagon on the tracks. “Think we can put our stuff in here and push it along?”
She lumbered over and tested it. “I don’t see a hand brake. Seems to slide pretty easily.” She dropped her back-pack into the cart and gave it a push. “Yay. It’s moving.” The cart picked up speed. “Whoa, slow down, Nellie.” Eliana moved like a Sumo wrestler stomping down the track. She picked up speed, the sole indicator of her progress the bobbing light from her head lamp.
Unused to a PPE in any circumstances, much less in a cave in the dark, Arta clomped along behind her, trying to avoid falling over his own feet. He tapped the radiocomm. “Stop running. I can’t keep up with you. Aren’t we supposed to be sneaking up on him?”
The round light bobbed ahead of him faster and faster. Had she climbed into the cart? No. That would be foolish.
“Can you hear me?” His heart pounded in his chest like a kettle drum. Why didn’t she answer him? “Eliana?”
The light shuddered, blinked, and disappeared.
Chapter Eighteen
Northern Ethiopia, 953 B.C.E.
Baby at her breast, Makeda sat at the mouth of the cave and gazed at the full moon which marked the prince’s first month of life. She closed her eyes, sighed, and enjoyed the evening breeze. One more month, and she planned to rejoin her people. If she could trust them. For now, her retreat gave her t
ime to rest, regain her strength, and prevent maladies carried by evil jinnis. Red wolves stood sentry on every rock, ears pricked up and noses on high alert. The living ring of protection around the queen and her prince gave Makeda a sense of peace she had not experienced since her time in Jerusalem.
Solomon. Did he think of her as often as she thought of him? She wished he was here to share in her joy. Tears pricked her eyes. No use thinking about him. That time was in the past. Her future lay ahead in Aksum.
“Oop-poo!”
Makeda blinked and looked around, searching for Hoopoe. Was he really here?
“Oop-poo! My queen, there you are. I searched the entire desert for you.”
A female wolf lunged at the bird, and he flew up to perch on an outcropping.
“Stop,” she ordered the wolf. “He is a friend. Tell the others to grant him safety.”
The red wolf tossed a hungry look over her shoulder and slunk out of the cave.
“That wolf wanted you for a tasty snack, Hoopoe.”
He fluttered down to her side and spread his wings. “Does she want to choke on this bag of bones? The bugs were sparse in the desert. I had to make do with little.”
She shifted the sleeping baby off her breast and swaddled him. “How is my one true love?”
“Devastated by losing his bride and his mother on the same day.”
She stopped her infant care and stared at the bird. “Bathsheba? Dead?”
He nodded. “An earthquake dislodged a heavy stone and sent it down on her head.”
Despite Bathsheba’s constant attempts at political manipulations, Solomon loved his mother. “His heart must be broken.”
“He withdrew from the world. His wives and concubines were planning his funeral and worrying about that brat, Rehoboam, becoming king.” Hoopoe nipped at a worm inching its way across the floor.
“Then what?”
“Two of his little girls paid him a visit. He said they were more honest than any of his advisors. Told him he smelled like a goat.”
Horrified, Makeda wondered how her beloved allowed himself to fall so far. His anguish and grief drove him to madness, of that she was certain.
Hoopoe cocked his head and stared at the infant. “What did you name the child?”
“Menelik, the son of a wise man.”
The bird nodded. “Of course. I see his father in him, even at this young age.”
The handmaiden, Tehetena, approached. A basket swung from her arm. “We are low on provisions, my queen.”
Makeda nodded. “The wolves tried, but were unable to steal into the food stores. They lost one of the pack in the attempt.”
Tehetena spoke in a hushed voice. “I hate to break our retreat and fear what we will find when we return to our caravan, but—”
“Oop-poo! I will bring a message to your friend, Tamrin.”
“We don’t know if he is loyal to us.” Makeda recounted the midwife’s words, leaving nothing out. “He might be part of the conspiracy.”
Hoopoe cocked his head. “I found the remains of bodies staked out in the desert by the caravan. I counted five, all in women’s clothes. I feasted on the beetles that burrowed into them.”
She shuddered at the image. “Tamrin must have torn the camp apart when we went missing.” She removed a gold ring from her pinky and placed it in the chatterbox’s open beak. “He gave this to me when we were children. He will know it.”
The bird began to walk to the ledge.
“Hoopoe?”
He turned.
“Try not to get killed, please?”
****
The wolves parted to allow Tamrin through on horseback. He leaped off the stallion, raced up to the cave, and fell to his knees, shouting a prayer of gratitude to God. Tears streaming down his cheeks, he alternated between sobs and laughter. At last he spoke.
“Praise God, you are alive.”
“Alive and a mother, Tamrin.” She lifted the silk wrapped bundle and showed her precious boy to her dearest friend. “His name is Menelik.”
“My queen, I have never seen such a beautiful child. He is you and King Solomon, in one dear package.” He placed his forehead on the ground. “I am, and ever will be, to the end of my life, you and your son’s faithful servant.”
Hoopoe strutted to Makeda’s side. “Oop-poo! I found him weeping in his tent, praying for your soul. I had to sit on his head to get his attention. He swatted at me until I dropped the ring.”
“Hoopoe tells me you were difficult to talk to.”
Tamrin rocked back on his heels, his mouth open. “You speak to the animals.”
Not a question, a statement.
She nodded. “How long have you known?”
“Years. I wondered how a small girl had the power to kill the lioness. I watched you. Saw you head to head with your horse, the parrots, and the beasts we brought to Jerusalem. I knew you had a bond.”
“You never spoke of it to me.”
“Nor to anyone else.” He gave her a penetrating stare. “I feared people might call you a demon, a witch, or the worst, a jinniyah.”
She shuddered. “And now?”
A silence fell between them. One. Two. Three heartbeats.
“You were never meant for me. You were meant to love King Solomon, the greatest king of all times, who also communicates with all manner of beasts.”
Makeda exhaled, and realized she had been holding her breath waiting on his answer.
“Tamrin, you honor me with your loyalty. I hope I continue to earn it.”
“I must say this to you now, and I will never speak of it again. I will love you until my last breath, Makeda, Queen of Sheba. No one will ever hear of your powers from my lips. I swear this upon the heads of my children.”
“Tehetena swore a similar oath. I trust you with my life, and the life of my son. We cannot leave this place for another month, lest the baby fall prey to maladies from evil jinnis. We need food. Can we trust the others?”
“I personally staked the midwife out in the desert. She and four other women confessed to planning to kill the baby.”
“She cleaved to the notion I should be a virgin queen. I could not dissuade her.”
He shook his head. “No.”
“Then why?”
“Someone in Jerusalem paid her to make sure the child didn’t make it into the world.”
A chill snaked down her spine. “Did she say who?”
“Her spirit left her before she named the culprit.”
Who would do such a thing? Bathsheba was dead, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t have paid for the assassination. Who would be so cruel as to take her child away from her? The Egyptian princess? Naamah, the jealous mother of Rehoboam? Had the Ammonitess been telling the truth about the Elders? Her heart sank. As long as there were enemies waiting to kill her child, she could never return to Israel.
****
Solomon paced the courtyard and scanned the night sky. Two moons and still no sign of Hoopoe. He hoped the bird was alive and well. He liked the chattering creature. More importantly, he yearned for news of his love, Makeda.
Soldiers stood guard at the gate to his palace and stared straight ahead. He knew they whispered among themselves. Benaiah told him while he lay in mourning, rumors flew about his health. Was the king mad? Did the foreign queen bewitch him? Still stabbing at Solomon with the sharp tip of his tongue, the captain of the guard told him few were sad to see her go. Sickened by his venom, Solomon sent Benaiah away. Now he waited, alone and lonely. He closed his eyes, knelt, and beseeched God to send him a sign.
“Oop-poo!”
Solomon jumped to his feet. “The Lord answered my prayer. Tell me of my love. Is she well? How does she look? What did she say to you?”
Hoopoe strutted across the stones and bowed to his king. “I bring you good news.”
“Yes?”
“Not only is the Queen of Sheba healthy and as beautiful as when you last saw her, she is also the mother of yo
ur child.”
He dared not hope, but his tongue spoke before he could bite it. “Is it a boy?”
“His name is Menelik, son of a wise man.”
Solomon burst into song, the one he planned to sing to Makeda on their wedding day, his song of songs. “Let him smother me with kisses from his mouth, for your love is better than wine—”
Hoopoe shrieked. Solomon stopped singing and stared at the bird. “You dare interrupt me?”
“Your son is in danger. Someone from your court plotted to kill him as he was born.”
Solomon grasped the back of a chair so hard, his hands ached. “Who? What? How?”
Hoopoe shared the midwife’s plot and the queen’s escape. “The woman died without telling Tamrin the name of the person who paid her to kill your son.”
The list of those who wished the Queen of Sheba ill scrolled before his eyes. All of the queens and concubines were jealous of the special place Makeda held in his heart. Naamah stood high on his list of suspicion. Benaiah would have to keep a sharp eye out on her.
Benaiah.
Was he behind the plot? No. Not possible. He would have been seen talking to the midwife. It would have been out of place for the unmarried captain of the guard to meet with someone who tended to women’s needs. But the man never spoke well of Makeda. Why, even on the eve of his wedding the soldier insisted Solomon check her feet, make sure she wasn’t a jinniyah. Just today, as he pined over losing his love match, Benaiah took the opportunity to say no one really missed her. Benaiah. Solomon dared not come right out and accuse him. Surrounded by his troops, the captain of the guard was powerful. The man was quick to establish a military rule when Solomon took to his bed in grief. He needed to find out for certain who would be so filled with hate she plotted to murder a newborn child. This called for waiting and watching.
Solomon glanced around and lowered his voice so the soldiers could not hear.
“Hoopoe, I need your help. In fact, I need the help of all the birds in my kingdom.”
Kiss of the Virgin Queen Page 18