He didn’t give up, but renewed his efforts, mentally twisting each glyph until his eyes blurred. Suddenly, words formed in his head. First, they floated randomly with no meaning, like waving flash cards in front of a newborn and expecting the child to be enlightened.
Yet his brain scrambled, anchored each word to his gray matter until words replaced the images. Bursts of carnage and retribution amidst mountainous volcanoes spewing lava into the ash filled stratosphere crowded between his ears. The gods: Ra, Zeus, Odin, Nu, Hera, Jupiter, Juno—all of them—including their many progeny battled Elementals, the Eidos, for dominion of the cooling planet.
His stomach heaved, and he tipped forward. His hand shot out to stop the fall and his palm landed smack in the middle of the Scroll. Power cascaded through him, peeling skin from muscle, muscle from bone, bone from marrow, leaving nothing except the DNA, which differentiated him from the billions of species on Earth.
He tried to yank his hand away, but it seemed glued to the papyrus, the power increasing to a torturous level as if his blood had ignited. His body torqued, each muscle clamping down on his skeleton while flames licked beneath his skin. And his Ink—that sentient presence—gripped his skin like the claws of a tiger sinking into the flesh of a prey.
Avery slumped, his head landing on the open pages of the Book of Eidos. Inside his mind, the battle was won. The Gods rejoiced their victory by absorbing the power of the Eidos and casting them into slavery just as he, a descendant of Ra through Elyssian, had absorbed Khuket’s power.
A dark mist peeled away from a pyroclastic cloud. It writhed across the plains, away from the Gods and toward him, getting smaller and smaller, taking the shape of a man. The build, familiar. The height, equal. The bald head. The burn on the right shoulder.
Was it a mirror he stared into?
Power rolled off the creature facing him. And knowledge, more knowledge than Avery would ever be able to accumulate flowed towards him.
“Avery—Avery!”
Emeline’s voice tunneled through his subconscious. Her hands gripped his shoulders, shaking him. Then a finger pressed below his jaw for a pulse. Finally, she caressed his cheeks. “Baby, please wake up. Wake up, Avery.”
Not yet. So many questions need to be asked, answered, but it was already too late. The creature dissipated into mist once more. Inky droplets hung in the air, waiting…waiting.
A slap stung his cheek.
The mist waited…suspended in the sulfur-filled air.
Another slap mixed with an anguished cry. Was it his?
Water pelted his face.
Lips molded to his.
A tongue slipped between his teeth and stroked.
He tasted butterscotch.
Emeline.
He opened his eyes and focused on the tear-stained face of the woman he loved more than anything in this world. She threw herself on top of him, hugging him, and trembling so fiercely he feared they would both shatter.
“I thought you were dead! I thought you were dead!”
He held her tight, kissed her temple, and whispered in her ear, “Shhh, you can’t get rid of me that easy.”
She fused her mouth to his in a kiss filled with desperate panic. He understood. Her last living relative had recently died, and she felt responsible. It wasn’t her fault. Her ninety-two-year-old grandfather had put himself in harm’s way, and there was nothing they could do to save the elder. Unfortunately, Emeline didn’t see it that way.
“W-what happened?” She hiccupped. “I came to find you, and you were unconscious on the floor.”
Avery blinked hard, for the first time realizing the drab stone above was the ceiling and the tile freezing his back, the floor. He focused on her face as her question took root. What did happen? He sat up and climbed steadily to his feet. Emeline clung to him, helping him stand though he needed no assistance.
“Do you feel dizzy? Maybe you should sit? Would you like something to drink?” Her fingernails dug into his forearm.
He cupped her face and kissed her. “Babe, I’m fine.” He wasn’t lying. A quick mental check confirmed everything from his neck down still worked. So why the kissing the dirt routine? The ancient texts were still on the altar, though the Scroll dangled off the edge and the Book was askew.
“I was staring at the Book of Eidos. Words clicked in my head. I started seeing things.”
“What things?” Her voice rose, buoyed by hope.
Evading the question, he moved toward the table. “I touched the Scroll”—images swirled, threatened to swamp him again—“and…woke up on the ground.” He reached for it again.
She stopped his outstretched hand. “Let me.” Before he could counter her, Emeline pulled The Scroll from the edge and brought it back to the center of the table. She traced a finger over the words.
Avery tensed, not wanting her to touch it, though nothing happened. Pinpricks sparked along his skin, multiplying each second, building into a roar only he could hear, a sign of his Ink swarming. He moved her out of the way and rolled the Scroll closed.
“Fine.” She huffed, turned to the Book of Eidos, and gasped. “Oh my god. It’s blank.” She flipped the pages. “How is it blank?”
From his greater height and periphery, the empty pages stunned him.
“What happened?” She pivoted and held up the Book. “The words? Where did they go?”
Blinding pain split his head from base to crown. An inferno seemed to burst from his core.
“Avery? Honey, what is it?” Emeline dropped the Book and grabbed him.
The flames were everywhere, inside, outside. He backtracked to the nearest wall, trying to push her away, protecting her from himself. Emeline wasn’t the average human. She was strong, too strong to easily budge if she chose not to move. And right now, he didn’t have the strength to stop her. “Don’t touch me.”
Air, he needed air. He gulped, filling his lungs to capacity. Still, he suffocated. He didn’t need air. His Ink demanded it. Avery ripped his shirt from collar to hem and flung it from his shoulders.
Emeline’s hands flew to cover her mouth, her hazel eyes huge in her caramel face. She retreated, one step, two steps, three steps. Each footfall a knife in his heart, yet he wanted her safe even if that meant away from him.
She stopped. Pointed at his chest.
What now? Avery glanced down. Crawling across his flesh were the words that had filled the pages of the Book of Eidos.
Chapter Four
The transportation gods had smiled. Ridley pushed through the revolving doors of the Museum of Ancient History.
“The museum closes in thirty minutes.” A voice came over the speaker.
Good thing they weren’t here to see the pretty pictures. She marched through the Great Hall, unaffected by the sweeping arches and glowing marble to the information desk. “We have an appointment with William Chadwick. He’s expecting us.”
A phone call later, they followed a staff member through a secure door on the top public level of the building. Standard issue, mostly empty cubicles with dirt colored utilitarian furniture, plastic plants, and framed digital copies of the classics decorated the hideous space inside one of the greatest museums in the world. Cubicles gave way to tiny little offices, again mostly empty. They rounded a corner, kept walking past the carpeted executive suite to more cubicles and slightly larger offices. Their guide knocked on the third door and waited for the quiet, “Enter.”
“Thanks for the tour.” Ridley moved past the guide and into the office. The man behind the desk was close to what she expected the curator would be: short of stature, weighing less than one thirty on a full stomach with John Lennon glasses and graying temples. Curling chest hair peered over the open collar of his checkered shirt, which was tucked neatly into a pair of wrinkled khakis. He perched on a drafting stool at a secondary white Formica desk, magnifying glass in his gloved hand as he studied a tray of broken pottery.
Clutter, mostly folders, and magazines, covered the surf
ace of the oak desk facing her. Opaque containers on shelves lined the office walls. Their hidden contents piqued her curiosity. What really impressed her was a picture of Chadwick and Harrison Ford dressed as Indiana Jones hanging next to Chadwick’s multiple diplomas. Nice.
It took less than a minute to absorb all of this. Peeved at being purposely ignored, she reached for a dusty container.
“Please don’t,” Chadwick said, focused on the tray.
She paused, fingers in mid-grasp, ready to wrap around and lift. “Only because you said please.”
Now she had his attention. She waited for his perusal to travel down her body and snap back to her face. He didn’t seem impressed. Oh well, can’t win ’em all. His gaze shifted to EJ. The little guy didn’t seem too concerned with the giant in the room, courtesy of Lyle Manning warning him.
“I’ve read the copies Lyle sent over, and I find them very interesting,” Chadwick said.
“Good, you get directly to the point. You must be a native. Transplants to the city tend to talk unnecessarily.” Ridley chose small talk to ease the way.
“As you are currently yammering away?”
“Touché.” She did hail from other parts. Ridley didn’t wait for him to offer her a seat. She made herself comfortable in the only empty chair in the room, as he clicked away on his computer. Minutes ticked by, slow minutes, the kind of minutes she liked. The ones that made a day seem like a year. Tick…tick…tick…
She peeked over her shoulder at her silent companion, not expecting to meet his icy blue eyes. He stood in front of the door, blocking any entrance or exit. Are you in there? The question kept repeating in her head, hoping he could bounce back, return to his normal party boy self once she’d finished using him. A surge of guilt rocked her. She forced it down to the bottom of her soul. Now wasn’t the time.
“I scanned the copies into my computer and found some interesting correlations with other well-known text.” Chadwick’s comment saved her conscience from further recriminations.
“Yeah?” She leaned forward. He had her complete attention.
“If you copied this correctly—which I have my doubts—this book is unique, not only for its rarity but also for the unusual text. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Damn it! That didn’t help her. “Thanks for your help.” She headed for the door.
“Where are you going?”
His tone more than his words halted her. She popped her hip out and dropped her hand on the curve.
“We are not done.” Contempt curled his lips.
“Oh really?” The little man had grown a third ball.
“I want that Book. I know what you do for Lyle.”
An eyebrow arched at the unexpected authority in his voice. Footsteps thudded behind her, and she felt EJ’s tangible hostility along her senses, yet she knew no emotions would show on his rugged features.
Chadwick’s bravado caved. “Umm. I-I mean I want to study it. I think I can decipher it.”
“At least three other experts have inspected the Book. What makes you so special?” She propped her elbows on his desk and leaned uncomfortably close to the little man. He eased back, wary disgust on his face. She wasn’t insulted. So she wasn’t his flavor. To each his own.
Chadwick cleared his throat and seemed to gather his backbone again. “The museum has recently acquired a tablet unearthed in Libya. It came to us through several parties that the governing board won’t publicize. Etchings were made and the tablet tested. The cartouche you’ve drawn here is identical to the one on the tablet. We’ve been comparing it to demotic, one of the languages found on the Rosetta Stone. It’s not the same language, but close. Your Book may aid in the translation. Already, I spotted a phrase. Translated it means, ‘sacred dagger’. At least I suspect that is the correct phrase.”
Sacred dagger? She’d tasted disappointment too many times to get excited, yet her heart raced. “Has the tablet been carbon dated?” She quelled her excitement. Chadwick could be yanking her chain to get what he wanted. It happened already. She wouldn’t fall for the same bullshit again. However, this was the first time she had any real reason to get excited.
“Yes, but it wasn’t conclusive.”
“Why?”
“The machine spat out a ridiculous number. We are running the test again.” Chadwick sat a bit straighter in his chair. Unraveling the complex nature of his work to the little people seemed to give him pleasure.
Maybe he was telling the truth. Any tablet had to be as old as the Book, and the Book was old, older than the first pharaohs. “Decipher the papers, and I will bring you the Book of Eidos.”
Chadwick’s eyes lit up.
“You have three days.”
He scowled. “That is not enough time.”
“That is all you have.”
“Then I need the Book.” He stood and met her gaze with unflinching force.
Fine! If that’s what it took. “I’ll get you the Book.”
“You don’t have it? Where is it?” He grabbed her arm.
EJ grabbed him and, with a flick of his wrist, tossed him back into his chair where he rolled to the opposite side of the room.
“Don’t touch the merchandise. I don’t like it. And what I don’t like, he hates.” She strolled to the door with EJ close on the heels of her Doc Martens. “Keep working Chadwick. I’ll be back with the goods.”
~~~~~~~~~
EJ moved close behind her as she took a circuitous route through the museum to the exit. He didn’t study their destination. He studied the people navigating their way through the galleries, moving with the flow like water curving around a boulder lodged in a riverbed. Guard duty is what she’d reduced him to, all she thought him capable of.
I am much more. And when he gained his freedom, she would discover that fact in the most painful way. Trained by the best—Roman and Avery—EJ could kill, had killed in many ways. Along with guns and knives, his body was a weapon. Honed. Yet a slip of a woman controlled his will. She ordered him to march; he marched. She ordered him to sit; he sat. She ordered him to stand; he stood. And if she ordered him to kill, he would kill. No matter how he resisted, he would do as commanded.
So far, she hadn’t given that order, but it was coming. Knew it like he knew his full name. When, the only variable.
He had to get free because he would not kill for her.
A trio of teenage boys stopped to gawk. The boots, the mini, low cut top, and leather duster caused men and women, old and young, to pause in midstep. It wasn’t just the clothing. Ridley had a magnetism that demanded attention. Good or bad. She didn’t seem to notice. He did. A scowl from him got the teens moving in the opposite direction. He’d laugh at their Three Stooges stumble if she’d given him permission to do anything other than brood and be angry.
Fury vibrated through him, and he found himself studying her neck, wondering how the slim column would feel captured in his fist. Warm, he decided. And smooth, like heated marble in his grip. And her skin, how would that feel beneath is fingertips?
She slowed after entering another gallery, her attention on the items in the glass cases. He peered over her shoulder at jewelry inlaid with multicolored stones. He had no clue and no interest in getting one. The next case held ivory and jade figurines, some as large as his hand. She crossed the room to stare at a mask dated 363 B.C.
EJ glanced at the plaque next to the piece. Egyptian Funerary Mask of Unknown Official.
She moved on to a case displaying weaponry, most functional, a few were gold and encrusted with gems. Pretty. He wouldn’t mind owning one.
Unease stiffened his spine. EJ pivoted and braced for danger, his body coiled, ready to fight. He blinked twice, just to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating. At the other end of the gallery—Daniel.
Today, out in public, surrounded by regular people, Daniel appeared human, a regular guy browsing Egyptian art. Getting some culture. First, Daniel wasn’t human…anymore. Second, the Daniel EJ remembered g
rew up with, called brother, wouldn’t visit a museum even if they welded stripper poles in the Great Hall and held auditions with Victoria’s Secret models.
Daniel stared into a case. EJ couldn’t see what had caught Daniel’s interest since he hadn’t noticed him. That changed a moment later when his head jerked up and their gazes clashed. EJ moved away from Ridley, his intention to draw the danger away from her. Protect her from all harm, she said. Well, Daniel would do more than harm her.
Daniel moved with him, mirroring EJ’s movements. The man and woman with Daniel moved, synced with their master.
Daniel Nicolis, once a beloved member of the Nicolis family, trusted with all their secrets, now a shape-shifting monster, a quimaera, part man, crocodile, and snake, renamed Alamut by his master, the God Anubis. EJ suspected the two minions with him had the same transformative abilities. Daniel was gathering an army of shapeshifters for some unknown purpose. For weeks, the family had searched for his hidden lair to finally kill him.
And here he was playing tourist. He was a threat to everyone inside the museum, including super-fast Ridley. Well, today, he would die.
EJ reached inside his coat for a blade. Three little girls ran past Daniel. Two darted around EJ. The third bumped into him. “Sorry, Mister.”
EJ glanced at the little girl with hair the same color as Ridley. She met his gaze with a timid smile and then darted after her friends. A woman trailed behind them yelling for the girls to stop running. He couldn’t kill Daniel here. The collateral damage was unacceptable. But if Daniel made a move toward Ridley…could he resist?
“The museum will close in ten minutes.” A voice intoned over the loudspeakers.
“Another time, brother?” Daniel strolled leisurely out of the gallery, his minions following.
EJ rolled his shoulders, releasing the tension bunching his muscles. Maybe Ridley would order him to explain what happened, thus giving him permission to speak. Seemed logical. He spun, expecting to find her giving him the evil eye.
Ridley was gone.
Encore (Descendants of Ra: Book 4) Page 3