As Long As

by Jackie Ivie

  “You were never a little boy, Meni.”

  Ah. The elderly one is named Meni.

  “Silence! This is no laughing matter. The men had to go the cemetery to handle it.”

  “Handle...what?”

  “A khafash.”

  “A what?!” someone expostulated.

  “This is a vampire. I’m almost certain.”

  The screamer was speaking again, so quickly it sounded like gibberish. “I told you—! ...no good! I told you! There is—! It is cursed! I told—!” Unintelligible strings of shrieks interspersed his words.

  “Someone silence Haffid,” the old man spoke from the area above Sokar’s head.

  It sounded like a shovel hit the fellow, but it could have been anything. The body sagged onto the bottom of his sarcophagus, leaned headfirst into the enclosure, and started dripping blood onto Sokar’s sandals. He fought the instant hunger even as his fangs reacted, lengthening further. His mouth watered. The muscles in his shoulders tightened. Those in his chest were next. The golden collar lifted. He couldn’t seem to prevent any of it.

  “He’s damaging the goods!”

  Someone pulled the screamer off and dropped the body out of sight. It made a rustling sound. Sokar swallowed surreptitiously. No one noticed.

  “What do we do, Meni? What?”

  “What do we do? We kill it.”

  Oh! Thank the gods! Meni knew what to do.

  “...and then we take everything,” the old man continued. “Do you see this coffin he’s in? The innermost one?”

  Someone lifted a lamp, sending light into the corners. Every shadow disappeared. Someone gasped.

  “Is that...gold?” The words were gasped.

  “Looks like it.”

  “Real gold?” The gasped voice had become a shriek.

  “Yep.”

  “Solid gold?”

  Somebody whistled.

  “Anybody want to run now?” Someone else spoke up.

  “Not me. That coffin is worth millions!”

  “Maybe billions,” someone added.

  “Okay, then! Let’s do this. Let’s kill it and get moving!”

  “But, how, Meni?”

  “Yes? How?”

  “Beheading is one way. Anyone have a sword?”

  “I have a dagger.”

  Sokar stiffened. He wondered if he’d actually be able to lie still while someone sawed at his neck.

  “Too dull. We’d need a sharp blade. One swipe. Maybe two. How about wood? We can use wood. Sharpened. To make a stake.”

  “Nobody brought wood.”

  “Is there any wood out there?”

  “Don’t know. Nobody checked.”

  There is a lot of wood. The couches are fashioned of wood. The chariots. Most of the chests...

  “Well? What are you waiting for? Go! Find something! Quickly! Before the sun sinks and the thing awakens!”

  Several of them left the enclosure. Not Meni. Sokar watched through barely open eye slits as the old man went down one side of the sarcophagus and back up the other. His fingers trailed the edge as he moved.

  “You are a very large fellow, aren’t you? Very fit. You would have made a fine pharaoh, I think. One, I would have readily followed. I do not know my history that well, but you have a very impressive collection of goods. Are those your chariots out there? Your ushabtis? Your jewelry? And this...”

  His fingers lifted the vulture collar. Tested the weight before dropping it back onto Sokar’s upper chest and throat.

  “The goddess, Nekhbet. Very fine gold-work. Extremely impressive. This alone is worth more than I will ever make.”

  What was keeping the others?

  “I wonder who you are,” Meni pondered aloud.

  Sokar didn’t move. Not a twitch betrayed him. And then, it no longer mattered what the fellow thought or what he said. It was enough that he was there. Handling what needed to be handled. Sokar closed his eyes. Searched his memory. Concentrated. Brought Geena’s face to mind. Her beautiful dark eyes. Lush lips. Soft skin. So dear. So...priceless.

  Soon now. It will all be over.

  “We found something!”

  The enclosure filled with men again. Sokar didn’t open his eyes to check. He felt them. They surrounded his coffin.

  “You brought a chariot spoke? You fool! It’s covered in gold! A complete golden chariot is worth a fortune to an antique dealer!”

  Meni’s voice broke through Sokar’s reverie. Sokar actually felt a hint of anger at the destruction they’d done, and then he relaxed again. What did a chariot matter anymore? What did any worldly good matter? There was only one thing of value in the world.

  And he had lost it.

  If any had looked at his face they’d have seen the wayward tear he couldn’t control as it snuck from beneath his lashes. They might spot the shiver that accompanied it, running along his skin, lifting goose bumps in its wake. But, no one was looking. They were too busy arguing over possessions.

  Fools.

  “And who would be able to find a dealer without raising an alarm?”

  “I can find one.”

  “We can always return and get it later. And fix it. Right?”

  “Right.”

  “So. We are ready?”

  “Ready.”

  Sokar wondered which one had the stake, and which direction it might come from. A pricking sensation happened at his chest, just beneath the breast collar. And then someone hammered on it, sending the spoke through skin. His heart betrayed him, then. His heartbeat quickened. Got heavy. Loud. They hit the stake again. He arched upward as it hit bone. Glanced off a rib.

  “Hit it again! Harder this time!”

  Sokar tensed for the blow and somebody screamed.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  The tip of the stake disappeared. Sokar opened his eyes, lifted his head, and watched a dervish in dark clothing smack a hand into the stake-holder fellow’s throat. He launched backward, hit the shrine with the force, knocking a portion loose. It fell with him. The warrior-sprite-thing kicked one fellow in the groin, spun to slam its other foot into another man’s knee, breaking it into a backward angle, and then rotated to shove an elbow into one fellow’s nose. Blood sprayed outward with the blow. Sokar sat up and watched as the black-clad vision jumped on one man’s back, wrapped an arm about his throat and pulled backward.

  Just before the man’s neck broke, he yanked the hood from the figure, releasing a lot of brown hair. And a familiar face.

  “Geena?” Sokar asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Geena Bauman?” He asked it again, incredulity staining the name.

  “Are you going to just sit there? Or are you going to help me?”

  Stunned, Sokar’s eyes widened. He couldn’t seem to move. And Meni proved he might be old but he was wiry. He jumped into the coffin behind Sokar, but that was secondary. Sokar had to handle the burly fellow first. That thief had grabbed Geena from behind. The hold locked her arms to her sides as he lifted her from the ground.

  Meni stabbed the stake into Sokar’s shoulder. It glanced off the chain holding the necklace in place. Sokar grabbed the little man and sprang upward, smacking Meni’s head into the ceiling. Brains, bone, and tissue splattered outward. It reached some of the lanterns, making a hissing sound as liquid hit hot glass. Geena had twisted out of the big thief’s arms, but there wasn’t enough room to escape him. She fell against a coffin lid. Disappeared over the other side. Sokar roared. The shrine shuddered. He grabbed the burley man’s throat with one hand, and yanked his head off with the other.

  Blood spewed everywhere, sent in spurts from the man’s still beating heart. Sokar flung the body from him. The one with the broken knee groaned from somewhere at his feet. Sokar lifted the stone lid of his sarcophagus and dropped it atop the pile of bodies. And everything went quiet. Geena slowly rose. Sokar brushed a hand across his eyes, wiping kohl and blood into them. That stung. He ripped a section from one side of his kilt to swipe at
the mess of black and blue paint that was now mixed with gold, tears, and blood.

  “Wow. Sokar. You really do take heads off.”

  “You are here. By...Isis. You truly are here. Right before me.”

  His knees quaked. He took a step toward his sarcophagus and smacked a thigh into it to remain upright. The shrine wasn’t as lucky. Creaks and groans accompanied one corner as that section wavered, splintered, and then fell.

  “That’s quite the makeup job, big guy.”

  “What?”

  “Your eye makeup. It’s...very visual. Unique.”

  “This is the paint of a pharaoh. It goes back centuries—!” He smeared more of the mess into his eyes. “Never mind. It does not matter. Nothing matters save...you. You came back.”

  “Right in time, I see. You weren’t really going to let them kill you, were you?”

  “You came back!” he replied.

  “I had to. I am a woman of honor and that was a crap bargain. The phrasing was completely ambiguous.”

  “I do not understand.”

  “We never specified what the word ‘this’ means.”

  “What?”

  “You promised to release me when ‘this’ was over. We never went into what that meant. Exactly.”

  “What?” he asked again. Another portion of the wall fell, this time inward. It smacked into his back and head.

  “Look at what they have done to your tomb!”

  “It does not matter,” he replied.

  “And your shrine!”

  “It does not matter! You came back!” He raised his voice. Bass tones echoed. More of the shrine buckled and collapsed, leaving a pile of gilded kindling.

  “We should probably...go somewhere.”

  “Where?”

  “I don’t know. Somewhere where we can talk. And maybe move onto...you know. Other things.”

  He growled.

  “And look! He gives that growl again, immediately going with the male domination thing again.”

  “Geena!”

  “Okay. Fine. I’ll explain. But first, I have to tell you – this is your fault.”

  “Mine?”

  “You did tell your pilot to fly me wherever I wanted to go.”

  “That was seven days, twenty-one hours, and some-odd minutes ago!”

  “I know. Roger is getting a bit tired of my demands, too. You’ll have to give him a bonus.”

  “Who?”

  She stepped close. Traced a fingernail up his belly. Ended up at the bottom of his Nekhbet breast collar and just kept her finger there. The contact sent all kinds of sensation radiating outward from where she touched. Sokar tensed in order to withstand it.

  “Roger Stanislaw is the name of your pilot. You’d think you’d know that. Then again, you don’t get out very often. I’m actually surprised you know how to use a cell phone.”

  “Geena.” Her name came out as a groan.

  “I went to Cairo first. Do you know the police are searching for me?”

  “Kidnap victim? Missing person? Or alien abduction?”

  “Neither. I’m wanted in connection with vandalism to a hotel room. Someone probably wants to sue me.”

  She stepped nearer. His biceps tightened. His pecs. He wanted so much to grab her to him! Needed to. And yet, he didn’t quite dare.

  “They’ll never find me, though. I was there under my alias.”

  “So, I was right.”

  “Yeah. Well. Everybody has to be right sometime. Even you.”

  She stepped a little nearer, tilted her head toward him. Pouted. A swell of sound filled his ears. He rocked in place. But it mustn’t have happened, since all she did was start speaking again.

  “...I had Stanislaw take me to Jerusalem. Thought I could check in. Maybe see if I wanted to resume that life.”

  “Geena.” He was pleading. She didn’t seem to notice that, either.

  “The answer was no. Israel seemed...weird. I felt like a foreigner in a strange land. We had to wait for the bank to open so I could fetch my US passport – that took some more time – and then I had Stanislaw take me there.”

  His forehead wrinkled in confusion. She correctly interpreted it.

  “We flew to the United States. I’ve got dual citizenship. My father was an Israeli. Not mom. She was American. Indiana born and bred. I had family there. An aunt raised me until my late teens. We...had trouble. I was considered kind of incorrigible. Hard to handle. And I’d been learning the martial art called Krav Maga since grammar school, so she considered me dangerous.”

  “You?”

  “Yeah. I know. Hard to imagine, right? Look. Don’t get all cute and sarcastic, okay? I was a tough kid. She was a tough aunt. We mixed like oil and water. Anyway, I don’t know why, but I had Stanislaw take me all the way to Indiana. It took more than two days, what with stopping for fuel and food and rest...and somebody named Sokar could have told me that he owns a lot of property. And companies. And stock in other companies. And—heck. I was treated like visiting royalty everywhere we landed. That does tend to suck up time, too.”

  “I have lived a long time, Geena. I did...some acquiring.”

  “You did a lot of acquiring, big guy.” She tapped at the skin beneath the bottom of his breast collar. He pulled his muscles even tighter. It was so difficult not to snatch her up. Grab her to him. Take her, and run. And then lock her away. She didn’t know the effort it cost him to do nothing except stand docilely. Watching. Listening.

  Trembling.

  “Anyway...Indianapolis was a dud, too. Everything was changed.”

  “Your aunt?”

  “She went on to her great reward last year. The house got sold. The neighborhood is unrecognizable. I really don’t know why I’d gone there. My aunt didn’t even contact me after she shipped me to my cousins in Jerusalem. You ever hear of Mossad?”

  “Yes. Briefly,” Sokar replied.

  “Fair enough. That’s all you need to know. And, there you have it.”

  “There I have...what?”

  “Took me nearly three days to get back to you. And what are you doing when I get here? Committing suicide.”

  “No. I—”

  His voice stopped. Her eyebrows rose. This situation was nearing an unbearable level. Being so close and yet afraid to touch? She didn’t understand. She was his entire world. Her face was the most beloved thing imaginable. Her essence so desired. He licked his lips. Scraped his tongue slightly on a fang. Shuddered briefly. And then he finished.

  “I thought I had lost you.”

  The words limped out. She’d wrapped her arms about his belly before he finished. Looked up at him. And blew him a kiss! This time when he rocked in place, she clearly felt it. And then she spoke.

  “Not a chance, big guy. I just needed a little time. Not a straitjacket. See...I’m kind-a in love with you, and—”

  He didn’t know how it happened. She was in his arms, her legs about his hips, and they were hovering above the desert. The scar of the tomb’s opening was situated just beneath his feet. The sky was littered with stars. Sokar was near tears again. The sensation was too enormous. Too perfect. There was no comparison. He was a parched man at the edge of a desert oasis. A starved man facing a feast. A naked man receiving cloth. This was beyond any paradise his ancestors had sought. Geena spoke first.

  “We...should probably go back.”

  “Why?”

  “We left a mess,” she informed his chest.

  “Let them rot.”

  “You’d leave dead bodies in your tomb?”

  “You realize asking that makes you sound crazy. Answering it will make me sound just as insane.” He tried to tease. It didn’t come out as he meant it. It was almost sobbed.

  She shifted against him, moving her head so she could look up at him.

  “You really want to have an argument over semantics, big guy?”

  He considered her for long moments. And then shook his head.

  “Good. Because I have
Stanislaw on stand-by, and I hear you have a really sweet place in Monaco, and—wow!”

  The feeling was vast. It needed the entire realm of the goddess, Nut, just to hold it.

  “Don’t you think we should take the plane?” she continued.

  He did.

  And they would.

  But for now, he had to soar.

  ~~~

  About the Author

  Jackie Ivie lives in the enormous state of Alaska with her husband and three very spoiled pets. She started her writing career writing hot highland historical romances for Kensington Publishing. There are now ten “Clans series” books, available in seven languages. Keeping her head in the clouds most of the time, Jackie now spends her time researching, developing, and writing her paranormal series – the Vampire Assassin League, as well as her other historical line – the Brocade Collection.

  Jackie loves hearing from fans, who can contact her at www.jackieivie.com or www.VampireAssassinLeague.com

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