Shaila ignored the laughter. She wanted more. But the man just shook his head and had an apologetic look on his face. Leaning forward, she grabbed every piece of papyrus on the table. She growled with frustration at finding them all empty.
She was about to lick the salt off the red papyrus when the dark one came back. He carried a shiny black cloth. As he draped the long robe around her shoulders, a faint scent tickled her nose. The robe smelled like smoked apples.
The tall one held a flat papyrus in his hand, and paced back and forth. He kept looking at her with a questioning look. She could see his energy aura was strong and cunning, but it was also restless. She detected pain as well. She already knew from his order and his stance that he was commanding as well, like a pharaoh. Shaila understood human kings, having worked with many of them.
“Are—” She coughed, a small cloud of dust came up from her lungs. She had heard and felt the rhythms of conversation for so long, she knew basically what was being said around her. But the effort of speaking felt raw on her throat. “Are you pharaoh?”
He finally stopped pacing and laughed. “Me? No. My name is Darius Alexander. And this is Marcus Damato.” He point to the dark-haired man.
“Darius. Marcus.” Her voice croaked. She mentally focused on healing the rawness in her throat. “Strong names.”
“You speak English?” The tall one seemed pleased.
She scrunched her nose and nodded her head slightly. She stood up, tall and proud like a warrior. “I am Shaila a’k’Hemet.”
The dark-haired one, Marcus, looked down at the papyrus spread across the table. “I thought you were the goddess Sekhmet?”
She smirked with distaste at the pronunciation. “Humans found that better to say.”
“But you were an Egyptian goddess?” Marcus had much curiosity in him. She liked that.
She shrugged. “I am Anunnaki.”
The tall one, Darius, seemed unimpressed. In fact, he went back to his pacing, reading the papyrus he held in his hands. Had this human really just dismissed her so casually?
“They also called me the Mistress of Dread and the Lady of Slaughter.” She tilted her head higher. The movement caused her robe to slip from one shoulder. He did stop his pacing to look at her, but amusement sparkled in his eyes instead of homage. Shaila seethed.
“Yes, and they also said that the hot desert winds were like your breath. Pleasant description, don’t you think?”
She nearly exploded with the indignity. This human who admitted that he was not the pharaoh needed a lesson in manners. Gathering a small bundle of energy, she mentally pushed it toward the man. It was not large enough to throw him against a wall, but it was enough to knock him back on his heels.
“Do you mock me? Do you know who I am? I am descended of the Great Dragon Queen. I carry the bloodline of succession.” Now they were getting somewhere. His eyes had changed to surprise and…distrust. This warranted a deeper look. “Have you lost your sense of honor to your gods?”
“Not our gods, honey. Humans stopped believing in your divinity a couple thousand years ago.” He moved toward her until his face was inches from hers. “You’ve been replaced.”
This time, she saw in detail the golden flecks in his brown eyes. Through their dark centers, she could see into his soul. His aura, the energy trail around him, was strong but enveloped with the pain of loss. Darius jerked the robe back over her shoulder.
“Replaced?” She wondered what exactly he meant by that. What had happened to her kind? What would that mean for her? For the prophecy? Where was her priest? More importantly…where was the child?
Shaila was filled with questions, but she could not be certain of how much should she reveal to these men. Darius wore the Eye of Ra, but that did not mean he would be an ally. He would not be an easy human to control, and she wished that he would step back a bit. She felt more constricted than when she stood entombed in the statue.
“Where am I?”
Darius remained too close. She knew his intention was to show his dominance.
“Boston. You’re a long way from home. Egypt is almost on the other side of the Earth.”
Shaila mentally called out to her astral spirit, but it would not answer her. Without it, she could not flash herself to Egypt and be about her business. She was stuck here. “Who is pharaoh of Buston? I must speak with him.”
She stepped away from Darius, intent on leaving their dwelling, but the man would not let her pass.
“The pharaohs are long dead, Shaila. Leaving this house would be a very bad idea right now. And whatever you just did a moment ago…” He moved in even closer, until his nose nearly touched her own. “Don’t you ever do that to me again.”
She should have felt insulted with the impudent human. No man had ever dared to speak to her this way. Instead, her heart thumped a beat more quickly, and a spark of something hot flickered across her skin. She inhaled his scent. The warrior in her smelled a challenge.
She advanced on him with her full arsenal, the kind every female is born with.
“Darius.” Shaila put her palm on his chest, and with a gentle pressure she felt the tensing and flexing of his muscles. Capturing his eyes, she leaned in so closely that his breath mingled with hers. For a moment, she thought about his lips. Just a kiss. What would he taste like? “No one commands me.”
Oh, Goddess. His skin was so close. She could feel the heat through his shirt. Blood pulsed more quickly through his heart, and she felt the lure of its hypnotic rhythm. What would his skin feel like? There was one enticing way she could show him who was in command.
Marcus cleared his throat, interrupting the intimate battle she’d intended to wage.
Darius glared at her. “Did you like being in that statue? Maybe I should just put you back where I found you. Let Lilith deal with you.”
It could not be! Could it? Shaila stiffened. Destiny could not have brought her all this way into the future to drop her at the feet of that witch!
“What do you mean…let Lilith deal with me? Who is this Lilith?”
“Apparently, she’s one of your Anunnaki friends.” His words dripped with malice. “Maybe you should go back and help her command that little demon army of hers.”
“Lilith is not my friend.” She completely understood why someone could hate Lilith. She wondered if he hated all of her kind this way. She never cared what others thought of her before…human or otherwise. With Lilith nearby, she desperately cared about finding the child and her missing knife. “She is my enemy.”
He grabbed her by the shoulders and yanked her close. “Good. I left my grandfather behind because of you. You’d better be worth it.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Wind whipped across the Charles River, finally carrying the first fall crispness with it. Heavy gray clouds spewed inland, driven by a nor’easter supposedly brewing over the Grand Banks. Darius closed his eyes and inhaled deeply of the briny air, drawing strength from it.
He trusted his grandfather. But the lady of the flaming ego better live up to her reputation, because he wasn’t going to endure her kind of aggravation for nothing. Thankfully, Marcus had agreed to stay and keep an eye on Shaila, while Darius responded in person to Lilith’s invitation for a little chat.
Turning away from the river, he faced the front entrance of the Troy Estate. Fear and rage swirled inside him like a great ocean storm. Sneaking in was easy. Entering the massive estate invited felt like a monumental task. His heart pounded with each knock on the door.
A young blond man with unusually gray skin opened the door and pointed Darius toward the gallery. For the second time today, he stepped into Lilith Troy’s private gallery.
Taking a more detailed observation of the antique collection, Darius found one room dedicated to Mark Antony. His likeness was everywhere: in portraits, on busts. A life-sized statue of the Roman general stood defiantly in the center of the room. Even on a short platform, the alabaster figure only came up to about Darius
’ eyes. He studied the features carved thousands of years ago. Something about the chin didn’t instill a feeling of power. Opportunist, possibly. Politician, definitely.
Darius moved silently through the next room, an eerie feeling shivering down his spine. Ancient weapons hung everywhere: long spatha swords, pila, thrusting spears, and even a few items that looked like instruments of torture. Another display showcased a stunning Roman gladius. The dagger looked wickedly authentic, its hilt encrusted with gold and bone.
A plain sword hung on the wall above the dagger. It looked out of place in this room full of gilded and bejeweled weapons. The steel blade had long ago oxidized to a silver blue haze. The hilt might have been made of a precious metal, but he couldn’t tell which one. It was wrapped tightly with brown leather straps which looked fairly new.
The security camera silently tracked him. He shouldn’t touch anything, but he reached out anyway, feeling the cold timeworn edges. The ancient weapon felt warm and strong. A smile curved his lips. The blade was still amazingly sharp, leaving a tiny cut on the tip of his forefinger. He put pressure on the nick for a few moments until the small blood droplets stopped oozing.
Focusing again on the hilt, Darius wondered if the shape of it resembled the outline of a winged disk. A ruby could lie underneath the leather wrapping. It looked a lot like the sword in the photo Mr. Artie had given them. It seemed too modest to be a sword of power, but even Indiana Jones recognized that the power of the Grail was not in precious metals or jewels.
“Farvadin.” Darius whispered the word into the quiet room. Well, what the hell did he expect? Did he think it would glow or rise up in the air or something? Was it really that crazy? His grandfather had searched his whole life for a statue that ended up only a few miles away. That was crazy.
Darius hesitated to enter the next room. From the doorway, he quietly relived the moment he’d first seen Shaila. Like a fierce sentinel, she’d stood entombed in golden splendor for eternity. Now, all that remained was a dusty granite platform.
She’d said she was Anunnaki. If he hadn’t already heard the legends of the alien race from his grandfather, he would have known of them through the ancient Summerian artifacts he’d studied in the past. The word literally meant those who from the heavens came.
His life would be a lot easier if they had just stayed out there in the heavens.
“Good afternoon, little Darius.”
The room turned dark, as pure hatred clouded his vision. The voice echoed across the room from the shadow of the staircase. It was deeper now, but still recognizable as the one that haunted his darkest nightmares from childhood. A nightmare he could never seem to outgrow. Darius reined in his anger and tried to quell the lurching in his stomach.
“As you can see, Therion,” Darius felt his teeth grind on each word, “I’m not so little anymore.”
Damn. He was already being sucked into Therion’s head games. Time to regain the upper hand. Darius hooked his thumb over his belt, the silver buckle resting coolly against his palm. His fingers ached to free the two throwing knives hidden inside it and bury them deep in Therion’s dark eyes. Instead, he strode across the room straight toward his enemy.
Therion was every bit as tall and muscular as rumors had said. Darius smiled inwardly, thinking that fate had apparently evened the score in that department. He now stood eye-to-eye with his enemy. What Therion had in bulk and brawn, Darius was certain he could make up for in agility in outmaneuvering the big man.
“You’re looking pretty fit for a retired colonel.” He looked like He-Man in a Hugo Boss. “I love what you’ve done with your hair. All those cute golden spikes. The messy look is still in. Maybe you could go into acting, now that you have all this free time.”
“Still the same snide little wimp.” Therion sneered, revealing perfect teeth framed by that perfect face. “Careful, your jealousy is showing. Sorry for your loss.” Therion’s eyes trailed slowly across Darius’ head.
When he was growing up on the streets, nobody ever told him to cut his hair. His long ponytail had turned into a perfect tool for Therion’s gang to implement pain. After moving in with Papa Shadi, he’d shaved it all off as a break with his past. It never grew back.
He squashed an impulse to rub Papa Shadi’s medallion for strength. Instead, he turned away from Therion dismissively, feigning interest in the solar boat display. He could feel the big man’s eyes watching him.
“I want her back. Now!” Even with a deep voice, Therion sounded like a petulant child.
Darius turned to face his accuser, noting the ill-concealed disgust in those black eyes. “Her?”
“You know damn well.” Therion closed the space between them in seconds. “Bring me back my statue. She’s mine!”
Before Therion could get too close, Darius grabbed the big man by the throat with one hand, holding him at arm’s length. He held his other palm up, ready to strike if necessary. He felt blood pulsing furiously underneath Therion’s skin. Gritting his teeth with the effort, Darius nearly roared from the rush of adrenaline. “You would do well to keep your distance.”
Light glittered off of something around Therion’s neck. Darius reached for it, drawing it out from under the silk shirt. At the end of a gold box chain hung a blue lapis lazuli bead. His stomach lurched, sick with the sudden onslaught of memories. He could almost feel the bruises again from the beating he’d suffered from Therion’s gang over twenty years ago.
Therion’s throat vibrated with laughter. “I hope you like it. I wore today just for you, in honor of your visit.”
Darius tightened his grip. Distracted by the necklace, he wasn’t prepared when the strange gray doorman suddenly tackled him to the floor.
“What is it with these things?” He fanned the air in front of his nose. “What the hell do you feed your pets, Therion?”
“You’re still on my playground, Darius.”
He mentally dared Therion to come a little bit closer, but the man just smirked from a distance. Oh the hell with it!
Scrambling from underneath the demon, Darius flipped it into the boat display. Dusty, splintered planks collapsed around it. A second demon grunted loudly as it launched itself from the shadows across the room. Flicking a quick release button on the belt buckle, Darius slipped a small throwing knife into his palm. Spinning, he used the momentum to toss the shiny blade at this newest attacker. It hummed through the air and sliced easily into the demon’s forehead.
“And I see you still let others do your dirty work for you.” The demon writhed on the floor, a silent scream frozen on its lips. Bursting into a blue flame, it slowly disappeared. Darius aimed a second knife right between Therion’s eyes. In his other hand, he held up the handwritten note. “Would that include your mother?”
Finally, he’d struck a nerve. Black eyes flared at him with angry defiance. Even the fancy suit couldn’t conceal the flexing of muscles as Therion’s body tensed. Darius lowered the knife, but kept his body loose and ready.
“You know, Therion, every bully has a weakness. What’s yours?” A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Hmmm. You know I’ll find it. That’s what I do. I find things…and I always find what I’m looking for.”
*
“Well, well, well. What a divine example of human masculinity.” Lilith Troy stood at the bottom of the spiral staircase, posed as seductively as she did on every poster of her around the world.
Innocent did not seem to be the look she was striving for. Black silk crisscrossed over her chest to hang sleekly over her shoulders. More black silk clung to her hips and flared down to the floor. A gold leaf diadem pushed her hair back away from her face, but she’d pulled half of the blonde waves forward over her body. The ends curled around her bare midriff.
Darius suddenly felt like prey, locked by an intense tawny gaze. He’d heard that she had that effect on men. He’d discounted it…until now. She looked divine and dangerous.
He couldn’t help but think of the statue of
Mark Antony in the other room. Men rarely stood a chance when faced with a woman who understood the power of her own beauty. He knew instantly that Lilith Troy would be exactly that type of woman. A type he would be wise to avoid.
Feeling Therion move in his direction, Darius re-aimed his knife. He would not be caught off guard again.
“Enough!” A display case next to Therion shattered. Tiny pieces of glass skittered across the bare floor. The big man halted mid-step and turned his glare toward his mother.
That was the second time Darius watched glass explode along with Lilith’s temper. “You must go through a lot of glass.” Therion momentarily gave him a you-have-no-idea look, before moving slowly toward the golden beauty.
“Thank you for welcoming our guest.” Lilith kissed her son on the cheek, but her voice dripped with sarcasm. “Leave us. You have things to do.” She moved past him dismissively. Darius did not miss the contempt that momentarily passed across Therion’s face before he left the room.
“It was you.” Lilith nodded her head toward the empty platform. “Your energy is unmistakable to me now. Such angry, masculine energy, Darius Alexander.” Closing her eyes, she drew in a deep breath as if savoring the aroma of a fine wine.
He was surprised to see his first knife floating in the air, gliding gently back to him from across the room. She was demonstrating more of her power. He slid both knives back into his belt buckle.
The sound of them coldly clicking back into place seemed to snap her out of her reverie. “Come with me.”
“Why?” He wasn’t going any deeper into this house until he knew what was going on.
“My dear, it was not a request.” A warm pressure surrounded his throat, invisibly squeezing his airway. There was nothing he could grab to relieve the pressure, so he waited for her to release him. “We have business to discuss.”
She climbed the staircase without looking back, swaying her hips in a manner to draw maximum attention. Slowly, the pressure around his neck subsided. Rubbing his throat, Darius cautiously followed her up the staircase to the residence level.
Immortal Dynasty Page 6