“He found me, at Aphrodite’s request. He seduced me and tricked me into Aphrodite’s trap.” Val smiled tiredly. “And I still love him.”
“You know nothing about love.”
“But I do. Demitri taught me everything there is to know about it.” She gave him a mocking smile that she knew would cost her. “He certainly didn’t learn it from you.”
As predicted, Apollo’s blow knocked her across the stones. “I do not discuss my son with whores.”
Val wiped blood from her mouth. She wanted to taunt Apollo, to tell him there was a reason Apollo never got a Father’s Day card from Demitri. Apollo had sired Demitri and deserted him, leaving his mother, a tiger shape shifter of the Indus Valley, to raise him. But Val didn’t want Apollo’s anger directed at Demitri.
“I want to spare him,” she said. “And Leon. They don’t deserve to die for me.”
“They assisted you.” Apollo scowled, his anger palpable. “And bedded you. And now Demitri cares for Leon, a mere mortal.”
“Demitri is your son. Should he die for a whore like me? And Leon was caught in my wake, an innocent bystander.”
Apollo’s eyes narrowed. “What are you proposing?”
Val stood straight, facing him, not ready to kneel again. “I propose that I give myself up to you. I will let you destroy me, on two conditions.”
“Conditions?” Apollo’s voice rolled through the ancient room. “You put conditions on a god’s will?”
“The first condition is that you spare Demitri and Leon,” she said, ignoring him. “They should have no part in this.”
“I am inclined to spare my son,” Apollo answered. “I do care for him, whatever you may think. What is the second?”
“Give me time to do one thing. After that, you may do as you will.”
“What is this one thing?”
“I want to make a journey.” Val finally bowed her head in submission, something Valenarian was bad at, but she wanted this boon so much. “A short journey to make an offering, and then I will be ready.”
Apollo went silent, his power filling up the temple. The old Egyptian gods were absent, perhaps not finding Val worthy of the bother. They’d made her, and they’d abandoned her.
Val did see a painting highlighted beyond Apollo’s left leg, the black outline and coloring bright and fresh. The little god had horns in his curly hair and a lion’s snout—Bes, the god who’d taken up carpet selling in Cairo and posing as a room service waiter at the hotel in Luxor. He was here to watch over her, though Val was skeptical about what he could do against the might of Apollo.
“Look at me, child of the dark,” Apollo said.
Val raised her head, avoiding Apollo’s direct gaze. She could die if she looked straight at him.
“I said look at me.”
Val swallowed. She flicked her gaze briefly to Apollo’s, finding black eyes that were like voids of darkness. A god’s eyes could lead to many places. Demitri’s eyes were warm and brown, and Leon’s beautiful green. She’d never tired of looking at them.
“I’ll take you there,” Apollo said. “But you have to keep looking into my eyes.”
Val drew a long breath, her body filling with fear. She said a silent good-bye to Demitri and Leon, her heart aching, then turned her head and looked at Apollo fully.
An impossibly bright light stabbed straight into her head, then the temple around Val disappeared. She felt herself floating, sickened, the power of the god tight around her.
Back in Luxor, the light cleared. The sanctuary was empty and deserted, the stump of a statue of Amun standing alone in its ruined chamber. The small British boy, who’d looked back to watch the lady in the see-through dress, rubbed his eyes. A sunbeam must have pierced them, he decided, and turned around to trot after his mother.
LEON reached the end of the long corridor, his bare feet throbbing. The passage ended in a wall painted with large bare-chested people in kilts, hunting and fishing, dancing and practicing with swords. No doors or corridors or stairs opened to either side—the wall was a dead end.
“I don’t think this is the exit,” Leon said, half to himself, half to the painting.
In the corner of the wall before him, the lion-faced god was depicted with his arms folded, a triumphant look on his face. Leon leaned to peer at him.
“Could you do something helpful like tell me the way out?”
Next to the small painted figure was a crack in the wall. Leon shone his flashlight on it, finding it regular and long, about a quarter of an inch across.
“Hidden door? Could I be so lucky?”
Leon opened the bag of supplies he carried and got out the trowel, his only tool. He poked this into the crack and tried to leverage it. He didn’t have much hope, but suddenly the stone gave. He saw that this area of the wall was false, just plaster on very thin stone. He easily pushed the piece inward, opening a three-foot square.
He flashed the light inside, finding another room, but this one was different. It was filled from floor to ceiling with gleaming gold.
“Son of a bitch,” he whispered.
His flashlight beam landed on gold boxes, chariot wheels, harnesses, jars, and other things Leon couldn’t identify. The stash filled nearly every inch of space. It was incredible.
Very carefully, Leon climbed inside the room. He grabbed a box off the top of the pile and opened it. Inside lay long strands of gold laced with stones, some of which he identified as emeralds and lapis lazuli.
His mouth dry, Leon closed the box and opened another. He froze. The solid gold container held only one thing, the broken piece of a faience pendant.
Leon fumbled in the pack for the silk pouch. He dumped the beads into his palm, finding that the half of the pendant Apollo had handed him was now only a limestone pebble. He threw that aside and gingerly lifted the second half of the pendant from the box. He lined it up with the half he already had, and found a perfect match.
“Terrific,” he said, his heart beating swiftly. “I’ve found the key. But I’m stuck in here and I can’t use it.”
Leon put the second piece of pendant back into his silk pouch with the necklace. He opened the first box again and extracted a gold chain, still gleaming and strong. He dropped that into the pouch with his beads, then he closed both boxes and put them back where he’d found them.
“Remy’s name is made,” he said. “That is, if I ever get out of here to tell him about it.”
Leon crawled back out through the hole into the silent, empty corridor. He shone his light on the painted walls again, then he froze, his heart hammering.
“Well, shit.”
No matter where he shone his light, no matter how hard he looked, he couldn’t find any of the pictures of the lion-faced little god. All of his images had vanished.
TO a woman who’d lived for three thousand years in a temple on magical Mount Olympus, southern Louisiana was an alien world. The narrow road Val found herself on angled through fields and was lined by a tangle of trees. The air was cooler than in Egypt but damp and clammy. It was night, but clouds overhead blotted out the stars and the moon.
A car rocketed down the strip of road, headlights slicing over Val. She was still wearing the nearly transparent shift from ancient Egypt, her gold collar and armbands winking in the sudden light. The car swerved sharply, then righted itself and hurried on.
A truck rumbled up behind her, breaks squealing as it slowed. A man’s voice called from the truck’s cab.
“Hey there, little lady. You need a ride?”
His accent was long and smooth, like Leon’s. Val put Valenarian’s smile on her lips.
“I do. Can you take me to a place called Fontaine?”
“Sure can. It’s right on my way. Ain’t you lucky.”
Val kept smiling and waited until the man held the door open for her. He leered as she scrambled into the less than clean cab, then she settled herself while he climbed back into the driver’s seat. A long shotgun rested across a r
ack in the back window, and by the smell of the clothes dumped behind the seat, he had recently killed an animal.
The truck roared out onto the road. The man was nothing like Leon—he had a scruffy beard and was thin, with a paunch where Leon’s stomach was firm and tight.
“Do you know Leon Dupree?” she asked him.
“Can’t say I do.”
“I’m looking for his house.”
“In Fontaine?”
“Yes. That’s where he told me it was.”
“He know you’re coming?”
“No.”
The man chuckled. “Well, I have a better idea. How’s about you and me going to a place I know where we can have ourselves a fine time?”
“I’d rather go to Leon’s house.”
“Forget about Leon. If he wanted you to visit, he’d have given you directions. No, it’s this guy’s loss and Joss’s lucky find.”
“Who is Joss?”
“I am, darlin’. What’s your name?”
“Val.”
“Well, Val, honey, you lucked out hooking up with me. We’ll have ourselves a mess of fun.”
He really was wearisome. “I’d rather not,” Val said.
Joss laughed again. “Well, you know what? This here’s my truck, and you’re in it. So we go where I say.” He reached across the seat and put a sweaty hand on Val’s thigh.
She moved in revulsion. “I don’t think you should touch me.”
“Why not? I don’t see your Leon here to object. Just you in a see-through dress.” Joss squeezed her leg, then slid his fingers down toward the join of her thighs.
“No, I really mean, Don’t touch me.”
Val’s body crackled with energy. Joss screamed as his hand became encased in sizzling lightning that traveled all the way up his arm. The truck swerved to the other side of the road, where a large semi was bearing down on them.
Joss wrenched his hand from Val and skidded the truck off into the dirt. They bounced across damp grass, past the semi, which honked at them, then back onto the pavement. Joss steered across to the right lane again, his hands shaking, then he pulled the truck off onto the narrow shoulder.
He was sweating and a damp patch stained his groin. “What the hell did you do, bitch? You almost killed us.”
Val straightened her skirt. “Is Fontaine very far?”
“Couple miles,” Joss panted.
Val smiled sweetly at him. “Then we should drive on, don’t you think?”
Joss gulped, put the truck in gear, and steered back onto the road. He stomped on the gas pedal and peeled away, huddling against his door, as far as he could get from Val. Val rested her elbow on the passenger-side door and hummed a tune.
DEMITRI studied the stark outcropping that curved in to join a section of cliffs. Rivulets of water had carved these wadis eons ago, leaving limestone walls perfect for rock-cut tombs. The Valley of Kings was within reach of the living cities on the east side of the river, but this place Remy and Leon had found was miles beyond any village.
Demitri’s magic was energy magic, not locating magic, so he’d needed the mortal woman to help him find the outcropping that looked like so many others. But now Demitri sensed the residue of strong magic here. Something had gone on in this place, which confirmed his conviction that Leon was down there somewhere.
Felicia opened the back of the Jeep and emerged with a shovel and pickax.
“Those will be too slow,” Demitri said. He’d have to blast his way in. It would destroy much of the tomb and leave little for the archaeologists, but it could save Leon.
Felicia had just started chipping at the stone when another Jeep hurtled to a stop behind them, sending a cloud of dust into the blank sky. Remy leapt out, followed by Habib and some of the Egyptian workers.
“Leon’s in there?” Remy demanded of Felicia.
“Demitri thinks so.”
Remy grabbed the pickax from Felicia and started pounding away at the rock. Limestone chips flew, and Felicia turned away, coughing.
“What are you doing?” Habib demanded in British-accented English. “If that is a new tomb, as you say, we can’t simply pummel our way into it.”
“If my brother’s down there, I can.”
“How can he be? There is no way in, and the opening is too small. Stop and think, my friend.”
Remy lowered the pick, his face bright red with sweat and anger. “If it was your brother down there, you’d be tearing the place apart with your hands.”
Habib chewed on his lip, his dark brows drawn. The man was clearly torn between the burning need to preserve the tomb and the need to help Remy. “It’s impossible that he was able to enter the tomb. He might be out in the desert, or fallen into a wadi. We need to coordinate a search for him.”
“You do that,” Remy said. “Meanwhile, I’m digging this hole.”
Felicia stuck her shovel into the rubble Remy had dislodged and raked it away. Remy continued, with Felicia silently helping beside him. A few of the Egyptian workers grabbed their own tools and joined in.
Habib kept arguing. “Think about what you’re doing. This is a piece of the past, a find undisturbed for centuries. We could do immeasurable damage to a pristine tomb.”
Felicia straightened up. “A living man is more important than a ruin, no matter how intact. I’m sorry, Habib. You can kick me off the dig and send me home, but I’m not leaving until we know Leon’s all right.”
One of the Egyptian men, a thin man with hard brown skin, patted Remy’s shoulder. “We find your brother. We work hard. Don’t worry.”
Habib looked pained, but he went back to his Jeep and pulled out a two-way radio. As he spoke rapidly into it, Demitri grabbed the pickax in Remy’s hands.
Remy clung to the handle. “No. Don’t stop me!”
“It will take you days to dig through that,” Demitri snapped. “In that time, Leon could die.”
“What the hell else do you expect me to do? That’s my brother down there.”
“You can stand back and let me work.”
Remy raked a skeptical gaze over Demitri’s expensive suit and silk shirt. Demitri felt the tiger welling inside him, felt his eyes go flat yellow, felt his teeth change to fangs. Remy stared at him, open-mouthed.
“I’m the only hope Leon has,” Demitri growled. “Stand back if you don’t want to be hurt.”
“I think he’s right, Remy,” Felicia said. “He isn’t like anyone I’ve ever met.”
Remy took a reluctant step back. He told the diggers in Arabic that they should let Demitri try. The Egyptians looked just as skeptical as Remy, but they leaned on their shovels and waited to see what would happen.
Demitri shed his jacket and shirt. The sun was lowering to the west, the god Ra sailing the orb on his boat into darkness. In Greece it had been Apollo’s chariot dragging the sun to the other side of the world. One day from his chariot, Apollo had spied a tiger maiden of the Indus Valley and stopped to pay her a visit. The son of that union now stood in the middle of the Egyptian desert and reached out to the energy of the setting sun.
The power of the sun filled Demitri, coupled with the rage and strength of the tiger. Apollo would be angry at Demitri for stealing his sun magic, but at the moment Demitri didn’t care. Once Leon was free and well, Apollo could punish Demitri as he pleased.
Fire built in Demitri’s body and flowed through his veins. Hot wind rose around him, lifting his hair, raising the dust at his feet.
Remy grabbed Felicia and dragged her out of the way, and the Egyptians scrambled back to the Jeep. Habib watched from the driver’s seat, his mouth open.
Demitri let the fire flow from his hands to the opening in the ground. The power didn’t smash through the rock or dramatically break open the hole. It simply melted everything in its path.
The opening widened until it was at least ten feet in diameter, then the beam of sun magic started eating through the rubble fill. The fill was deep, probably thirty feet long, slanting all
the way down into the earth.
Demitri burned steadily through it. He felt his body slowly changing to the tiger’s, the animal’s strength molding the fire to Demitri’s needs. His mother’s tiger people drew their power from the earth, not the sky. Demitri pulled on the heat of the earth far beneath him, coupling it with the sun’s magic to melt the rock like ice before flame.
Smoke and steam came billowing out of the hole. When the smoke cleared, every piece of rubble and anything that might have been caught in it was gone.
“Leon,” Remy bellowed into the hole. He glared at Demitri, coughing from the smoke. “I hope to God you didn’t hurt him.”
Demitri knew Leon hadn’t been in the antechamber at the end of the rock fill. As he’d drawn at his own magic, he’d sensed Leon’s aura far away, at the very base of the tomb.
Demitri turned and leapt into the hole, the rest of his clothes shredding as he completed the change to his tiger. He ran down the revealed staircase, paws burning on the flame-hot stone. At the bottom, he used his massive strength to pull enough rubble from the blocked doorway to the right to let the tiger fit through.
He ran down the long corridors and around corners, following Leon’s scent. As he got closer, he let out a snarling growl.
“Demitri?” Leon’s warmly accented voice streamed through the passage. “Shit, was that you? I thought someone was trying to bury me alive.”
Demitri ran straight at him. Leon was stark naked, his body covered with dirt, scrapes, bruises, and blood. Leon’s flashlight spun away across the floor, lighting the tunnel like a strobe light, as Demitri leapt on him.
Demitri bore Leon to the ground and landed on top of him, licking his face. His heartbeat thrummed in relief. Leon was alive, and all right.
Demitri let his man shape displace the tiger, and then Demitri was kissing Leon. Leon laughed and kissed him back.
Another roar, and a lion came racing down the passage. Demitri rolled away in time to let the lion pounce on Leon. The lion looked anxiously into Leon’s face, then started licking him with a long red tongue.
Leon shoved the lion off and sat up, wiping his face. “All right, all right. I’m happy you guys are glad I’m alive, but enough with the cat spit.”
Mortal Seductions Page 24