The Isis Knot

by Hanna Martine

  He didn’t think she was aware that her hand had strayed to her forearm and pushed up her sleeve. Graceful fingers ran around the edge of the cuff, which glinted in the candlelight. She looked dazed, dreamy.

  “But you found this instead,” she murmured.

  “Yes. I was ordered to search the banks of the Nile for resisters, for remaining Frogs or Mamalukes—anyone who might give England trouble. We were assigned to teams. Samuel Oliver was my partner and we scoured the area west of Edfu. I was excited to be out on my own. So was he.”

  At the sound of Oliver’s name, Sera shifted uncomfortably. It was so strange; she was an Oliver, too, and yet she looked nothing like Samuel.

  “We spent less time with our rifles on guard than we did poking our bayonets into the ground. We used the blades to try and pry the earth open, hoping to reveal our own secret tomb full of gold. All the while we laughed through our disappointment, until one day we actually found it.”

  Her breath hitched.

  “It was a bloody hot day and we were scouting a slope. Oliver was using his bayonet as a walking stick, testing the ground. And then it happened. A chunk of earth fell away under his blade, then more, until his foot sank and he shouted for me. I hurried over—he was still standing there crooked and half buried, but with a smile on his face—and we listened to the sound of rocks and sand as they trickled deeper into the earth. Do you know that sound? That echo?”

  She smiled, though it was distant. And there was pain behind it.

  “We spent the rest of the day digging, with our bayonets, with our field knives and hands, until we uncovered the narrow mouth of a small cave. A symbol had been roughly carved next to the entrance. That symbol.” He pointed at the rope-like picture on the cuff.

  “Go on. What was inside the cave?”

  William was dying to reach the end of his story so he could hear hers. It was why the Spectre had sent him here, wasn’t it? To learn what she knew and use it?

  He gathered his wet hair at the back of his neck and gave it a good squeeze. “Not what we wanted. Not a sumptuous, decorated cavern filled to the top with gold. There were two bodies inside, but they weren’t mummies. Just bones and cloth. Symbols had been painted all over the walls, but they were plain and crude. Not the drawings of the kings’ tombs we’d read about.”

  “They’re called hieroglyphics.”

  “Hmm.” He wasn’t at all surprised she knew that, though something told him he should be. “Last I heard the Frogs had discovered something—a tablet or some such—to help decipher their meaning.”

  “They did.” That pained expression flashed behind her eyes again but she pushed it away. “The cuff. You said it was on one of the skeletons?”

  “Yes. Oliver saw it first, though it wasn’t hard to miss. The gold took our lantern light and threw it back tenfold. He wrenched the arm off the skeleton and slid the cuff from the bone.” William let out a short, humorless laugh. “Funny, the first thing I remember was the awful smell of the dust that rose from the body. Then I watched the cuff fall open in Oliver’s hand. I asked him what he’d done to it and he said nothing, that it just opened and he couldn’t get it to close again. There was no clasp. I was curious but also jealous, and I went over to get a closer look. That’s when I saw the images on the underside, the beast-man and the woman.”

  He shook his head, the damp ends of his hair tickling his chin. “It was stupid of me, but I dove for it. Oliver was prepared for my attempt—he would’ve done the same thing to me, I wager—and all I had on my side was greed. He punched me in the jaw and I stumbled backward. My lantern fell. I tripped over a rock, wrenching my knee as I went down. I crashed into the other skeleton, scattering the bones. I was so disgusted at that point—with the dead body underneath me, with my greed—and I was so afraid. Every time I tried to move, my knee screamed in pain. It wouldn’t let me stand.”

  “What did Oliver do?” She paused before saying his name, as if it hurt her.

  William remembered the other man’s face as if it were yesterday. “He looked torn. He wanted to help me, but he also feared me coming after the gold again. It did strange things to us that day. When he apologized, I knew he was going to run and leave me there.”

  She considered him. “What would you have done, if you were him and he’d have tried to take it from you?”

  “Probably the same.” The candle flame taunted him.

  “What about that greed you mentioned? How do I know you won’t try to take it from me now?”

  He raised his eyes. Even in the masculine clothes and the shorter hair, her femininity touched him with warm hands. He no longer felt chilled. “I already told you. Because I won’t.”

  “But how do I know?”

  “Because things are different now.”

  “Things.” Her eyes narrowed, but in a way that was more assessing than cold. “It’s not coming off. You’d have to saw off my arm to get at it.”

  “I told you. I don’t want it.”

  I want you.

  He sucked in a breath, swallowing down that unbidden thought before she could see it plain upon his face. He’d become talented at that over the years—hiding his self-doubt and protecting what few emotions he could claim as his own.

  Again he paused. Had that thought come from him? Or the Spectre? Before, for so very long, all he’d had to do was obey what the dead man whispered. William had merely acted or reacted in order to appease the demands. He hadn’t had to deal with such personal entanglements.

  How was he supposed to manage now?

  Sera saved him from huddling back into his own madness by asking, “So what did Oliver do? Did he actually leave you?”

  William nodded. “He justified it by saying he was going to get help, that he couldn’t carry me injured back to camp.”

  “How long were you in the cave?”

  Truthfully, he had no idea. From there his story took a dramatic and bizarre turn, one which he’d never told anyone. If he voiced it, he risked her doubt and her flight. This would have to unfold slowly, in order to make it more believable. He had to win her trust first.

  He replied, “Another day or so. When help came, Oliver wasn’t one of them. In fact, I never saw him again.”

  Her dark, delicately arched eyebrows drew together.

  He said, “You look nothing like him, you know. Samuel Oliver. His hair was the color of sand and he was covered in freckles.”

  You are exotic. Like treasure.

  “I take after my mom.” Again, strange words, strange inflections. On top of that, she was obviously choosing her words carefully. “I’ve never met Samuel. In fact, I’ve never even met my father. He left the cuff to me in his will. I know you better than I ever knew him.”

  “When did he die?”

  “Three months ago,” she answered quickly, then rolled her lips inward as though she realized she’d made a mistake.

  Liar. Three months wasn’t nearly long enough for her to have been sentenced and then to have made the sea voyage to New South Wales. Beautiful liar.

  “Are you certain about that?” He dipped his voice and chin low.

  “How do you suppose Samuel and Mitchell Oliver are related?”

  He did not miss her obvious change of subject.

  “I was hoping you could tell me. But apparently you cannot.” He raised a knee and propped an arm atop it. “Where did you say you were born? Your speech is like nothing I’ve heard before, yet you speak English.”

  “I didn’t say.” Her eyes flicked to one side. “I am American.”

  His turn for surprise. “Can’t say I’ve ever met someone from there. How did you get sent here, then?”

  She remained silent.

  He sighed. “I need you to tell me your story. You know my half. I still don’t know yours.”

  She drew a shaking breath and whispered, “Because I don’t know it. Not all of it anyway. When you saw me out there that first day, in the back of Viv’s wagon, that was because h
e found me lying on the ground. I don’t remember much about what happened before that. I don’t really know how I got here, to New South Wales. I know my name, and bits and pieces have come back to me—like my father’s name and the fact that he recently left the cuff to me—but when I try to piece them together they don’t make much sense. They don’t give me a complete story.”

  “So what do you remember?”

  She was so still he thought her carved from wood. A few heavy moments passed before she replied, “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

  He leaned forward, so close he didn’t know if the sudden heat on his chest came from the lone candle or from her body. “Try me.”

  CHAPTER 10

  Sera didn’t know what unnerved her more—the open way William stared at her, looking impossibly hard and lean without a shirt, or the matter-of-factness in his expression. Like they weren’t two random strangers from different eras who’d first seen each other days ago out in the middle of nowhere and were now trading impossible tales while hiding out in a church.

  “As you were describing the cave,” she began slowly, “I started to remember a little more. That’s how it’s been for me. Something tiny will trigger something bigger, and a memory will come back to me. But like I said, it’s just a small chunk.”

  “What about the cave? What do you remember?”

  She rubbed her forehead. The images were little hammers, pounding away at her skull.

  “The letter from my father told me to go to Cairo, where the cuff he’d left me would be waiting in a museum. I questioned the lawyers and government people why I couldn’t have the piece just sent to me, but it had something to do with making sure I was who I said I was in person and customs or something. And the fact that this guy who’d been in charge of the cuff wanted to meet me. I’d assumed it was because he was going to try to convince me to keep the piece in his museum, and if the price was right, I was willing to consider that. His name was Malik Elsayed.”

  Saying the name turned the little hammer into a sledgehammer.

  “I remember him being really smooth but also very intense and guarded, until he took me down into the museum basement to show me the piece and something about him changed. He watched me really carefully, and it made me uncomfortable. He took me to a box, undid the lock, and moved back to the doorway. I had to open the box myself.”

  “And that was inside.” William nudged his chin at her arm. He, too, wore intensity around him like a second skin, but it was so different from Malik’s. It didn’t make her insides crawl.

  “Yes.” She could see the gold sitting on the black cushion so vividly. “Only it was open. I remember thinking it was ugly, and that that was kind of appropriate since my father and I had never known each other. My first thought wasn’t about what the cuff was or what it meant, only that I wished I’d known my father instead of having to take his piece of jewelry.”

  William made a sound of understanding, a low rumble in his chest, and she had to concentrate to get back on track.

  “Malik was still standing far away, still in the doorway. I was wondering why he didn’t come closer. Then he said, ‘That symbol on the top is called the Isis knot.’”

  As William’s eyes dropped to the cuff, she traced the Isis knot with a finger and heard the now-familiar hum within her heart.

  “I asked him if I could touch it, and he said, ‘It’s yours now. Why don’t you put it on?’ So I lifted it out of the box and was shocked at how light it was. It was connected by hinges I couldn’t see, like it was made of bendable metal along a really fine line. I turned it over and I saw what was underneath, exactly what you described: the two people fighting. The beast with the tail and the long snout and sharp teeth, and the woman with that hat with the big horns holding the sun. Malik told me they were the goddess Isis and her brother and enemy, Seth.”

  William frowned, as though he was working something out in his head. “Isis and Seth,” he murmured.

  “Do you know anything about them?”

  He shook his head, looking even more troubled, and she couldn’t help but feel disappointed.

  “I didn’t really want to put it on, but since I couldn’t find a latch or lock or anything, I thought what harm could it do? I could try it on for a second, then put it back in the box and let them take it away and auction it off for me. I could’ve used the money, you know. I didn’t need the actual gold.” She paused, wondering how much to say next, then decided that there was very little to lose at this point. “So I put my arm into it and…”

  Her voice didn’t want to obey. It faded off and she had to swallow to get moisture to her throat.

  “And what?” he prompted.

  “It, um, closed up on its own. Sealed the edge so I couldn’t see at all where it had been hinged or clasped.” She turned her arm to show him the seamless surface. “But that wasn’t even the weirdest part. I could feel it getting warmer, even though the basement was cool. And I would swear on my life that it changed size to fit perfectly around my arm.”

  His eyes widened, but he didn’t look doubtful. Didn’t sneer back at her as though she were crazy.

  “Go on,” he said. “Tell me more.”

  “I panicked. I must’ve made a sound because Malik was suddenly there, coming up behind me. He was smiling, but not with his mouth. Do you know what I mean?” William nodded. “I said I was so sorry, but I didn’t think I could get it off. And he was very calm, very smooth as always, and he told me that he thought he knew how to get it off. There was an expert near Edfu who’d be able to get it off without ruining it.”

  “He wasn’t angry?”

  “No.” She frowned, remembering. “Not at all. Which I suppose should’ve made me question everything right then and there, but I was scared that I’d done something wrong and just wanted the thing off and out of my life. He was very consoling, and suggested that since we’d be traveling down to Edfu to see this one guy anyway, why didn’t we first visit the cave where the cuff had been discovered?”

  At that, William’s lips parted. It was impossible not to notice how full they were.

  She briefly closed her eyes. “It was exactly like you said. I went with Malik to that cave and there was the Isis knot carved at the entrance. The site was secret and closed, but I guess since he was an important man in the museum world he got us access. I remember walking up and seeing the symbol, and him opening the door that had been fitted to the cave entrance. He turned on a few lights and gestured for me to go in first, so I did. I can’t explain it; I was drawn forward. I wasn’t afraid, just curious. Then I saw those shaky hieroglyphics on the walls and the bodies.”

  “The skeletons were still there?”

  Her gaze turned inward. “Yes, but they were different. One had its arm ripped from its body—where Samuel Oliver took the cuff off, I’m guessing. The other was just a pile of bones.”

  “From when I’d fallen into it.”

  “I would think, yes. That makes sense.”

  “Where was Malik? What happened next?” His voice pitched deeper.

  “That’s the strangest part. The last thing I remember was seeing those bodies, realizing they weren’t under glass or anything. I turned around to ask Malik about them, and he wasn’t there. I was alone with two skeletons.”

  William chewed on the inside of one cheek. “That’s the last thing you remember? There’s nothing else?”

  She involuntarily shivered. “No. That’s not all.” Now her voice sounded strange. Felt strange, too. Darker and heavier. “There’s something else, but it’s nothing I can see.” She waved a hand in front of her face. “It’s a feeling. After I realized Malik had sent me inside alone it all goes fuzzy. There was blackness and terror and…”

  Again, her words died.

  He edged closer. “And?”

  “And death.”

  “Whose death?”

  She concentrated but nothing else came back. “Not mine. I don’t know. I just know it was awf
ul. I’m sorry, that’s all I remember.”

  That wasn’t entirely true. She remembered what year that had all happened, but she couldn’t bring herself to say it. It was right there, on the tip of her tongue, but it wouldn’t come out. Was it because she didn’t know if she could fully trust him yet? Or because she didn’t know how he fit into this puzzle? Or because it was still too bizarre for her to admit even to herself?

  He spoke before she could gather the courage to blurt it out.

  “There’s truth in feelings.” He stretched his legs out and leaned back on his hands. The position bowed his torso in a gorgeous arc. “Emotions don’t lie. You feel them or you don’t. They can’t be faked. They speak to you from deep inside.”

  She tried to resist the urge to gape at the way his muscles bunched at his neck and shoulders and triceps, and failed miserably. “I suppose you’re right.”

  Pursing his lips, he nodded slowly as he assessed her. “So you must feel it then.”

  Something warm and deliciously frightening skittered through her chest. “Feel what?”

  When he blinked she noticed that even his eyelashes were golden.

  “That we know each other somehow,” he said.

  “We don’t. That’s impossible.”

  He tilted his head. “Are you certain about that?”

  “I don’t know you, William.” His name rolled around her tongue like fine wine.

  “Maybe know is the wrong word. But something inside you acknowledges me. Recognizes me, even. You knew my name, after all.”

  The presence and power inside her thrummed, basking in his strange familiarity. She said nothing, because it didn’t feel like there were appropriate words.

  He licked his lips again and glanced away. The rhythm of his breathing picked up, the rise and fall of his bare chest more apparent. “I’m going to tell you something, and I’d like you to listen with your heart, not just your ears.”

  Before she’d found herself in New South Wales, she wouldn’t have known what he meant. Now, however, she understood exactly. She nodded.

  “Three months ago, I saw your face.”