Ascending Passion

by Amanda Pillar

  Yael!

  He came back.

  Of course he did, he’s being paid to watch over you.

  “Did you hear him say he was the Director?” she asked.

  “Yes. Ass.” Yael’s hazel eyes glimmered.

  Dr. Campbell and Dr. Murdoch muttered to themselves as they angled the crowbar into the gaps in the stone. Surely it would take more than the two of them to open the tomb. That piece of rock had to weigh almost a ton.

  Yael leaned down to speak in her ear, his breath tickling the fine hairs on her nape. “This tomb has been robbed.”

  She froze, trying to ignore her pulse that raced from the slight contact. “How do you know?”

  He was silent for a few heartbeats, then murmured, “Instinct.”

  Luke turned to them. “So, what are you two gossiping about during this momentous occasion?”

  Like a chastised schoolgirl, she lowered her head in humiliation. Yael straightened and leveled a glacial gaze on her boss. “Whether or not the tomb is intact.”

  “And what does your extensive archaeological experience tell you?” Luke asked, viper-quick.

  “That it isn’t.”

  “We shall see.”

  Dr. Campbell gave a shout of effort, and the stone slab crashed to the floor, throwing dust up into the air.

  Rowan coughed as the fine particles hit her face, and by the time her vision cleared, the doorway was exposed. The scent of old, old things reached her, a strange musty smell that was hard to define.

  Dr. Campbell and Dr. Murdoch strode inside the tomb, flashlights on and illuminating painted walls that bore scratches and cuts.

  It’s a passageway.

  Excitement rushed through her as she took in the walls; they were the first people to see these designs in thousands of years. The colors were still bright: rich reds, brilliant blues and dusky greens.

  The passageway continued for another thirty feet or so, from what she could tell.

  Twosret could be here, she thought, although, her gut still told her she wasn’t.

  Rubble was strewn inside the tomb, but not fresh broken rock, like the door. No, this was old. The tomb really has been robbed. She spotted a burned cartouche, the paint melted into a black stain covering the carving. She stood, hand hovering over the barely visible markings: Nfr nfrw itn.

  Neferneferuaten.

  Oh my god.

  “Guys!” she called out.

  As Dr. Campbell turned toward her voice, his flashlight briefly blinded her. Holding up one hand to shield her eyes, she pointed at the burned writing with the other. “This says Neferneferuaten.”

  “Isn’t that the royal name of Nefertiti?” Yael asked quietly.

  She shot him a sharp glance.

  He shrugged. “I’ve been reading.”

  “Neferneferuaten was also the name of Akhenaten’s daughter,” Luke said, coming back to study the cartouche.

  He touched the stain. He shouldn’t be touching anything, especially not with his bare hands, but she had the feeling he wouldn’t respond well to a reprimand. Instead, she said, “It is also the accepted pharaonic name of the female king who ruled after Akhenaten.”

  Kayla came closer, phone out. “Hold the light better so I can see it.” She took a picture of the cartouche, then continued down the passage, sweeping her cell around and videoing everything.

  “If this is what I think it is…” Rowan tilted her head back and stared at the intricate painted roof.

  “What do you think it is?”

  Not Twosret’s resting place, that’s for sure.

  “I think this is Nefertiti’s tomb. Or the tomb of the pharaoh who ruled as Neferneferuaten. A recent paper says Neferneferuaten was two of Nefertiti’s daughters, but we shall see.”

  As they walked on down the passageway, more evidence of disturbance was clear. Discarded pieces of gold and silver, and broken pieces of timber; small fragments, like they’d fallen out of bags or from armfuls of loot.

  After about forty yards, and deep into the cliff above them, a chamber branched off the main passage. Her skin tingled with excitement…until she poked her head inside.

  Her heart sank as she took in the almost empty room, populated only with broken fragments and debris. The walls here were painted, but they too were damaged. Dr. Murdoch was inside, taking photographs and murmuring to himself.

  “Nothing?” she asked, even though she already knew the answer. Some things needed to be said aloud, though.

  “Nothing. Campbell went ahead with lo—Mr. Starre.”

  Funny, how the other archaeologists never called Luke by his first name. Even Dr. Mustafa didn’t, although she had the feeling that was more out of disrespect than anything else—an effort to keep the sponsor at a distance.

  Returning to the hall, she took a deep breath of stale air. Don’t get too excited. You know the tomb has been robbed. It’s been cleared already.

  It was just difficult not to hope, not to wish that this could be the find of the millennium.

  Ten yards later, there was another chamber, this one half-full of timber equipment. She thought she saw the wheel of a chariot, and the prow of a small boat. There could even be a wooden coffin in there, but it was hard to distinguish anything in particular by her flashlight’s narrow beam. But from what she could see, each item was damaged, and objects had been shoved into a pile, presumably to make room while the looters had gone through the rest of the treasure.

  “Careful.” Yael shuffled her to the left slightly.

  “Why?” There wasn’t anything on the ground that she could see.

  “Let’s go to the next chamber.”

  “But—”

  “Don’t you want to see if there is a mummy anywhere?”

  “Good point.”

  Normally she would argue that it wasn’t about the grave goods, that it wasn’t about finding mummies. But to hell with it, that was totally what this dig was about. It was about finding the body of Twosret, but in this case, she’d settle for the Nefertiti.

  They passed two more chambers, before the corridor terminated in a large open area. Both of the side-rooms had been looted, although there were still some items left intact. Little gold though, and certainly no precious stones, that she’d been able to see.

  By the time she reached the open chamber, Dr. Campbell had already set up his flashlight—and several spares—to try and illuminate as much of the room as possible. Eight large stone pillars stood proudly in the center of the room, surrounding a stone sarcophagus.

  On the edge of the room were another three sarcophagi, as if they’d been shoved aside.

  If Neferneferuaten was two women, then surely there would be two sarcophagi here.

  She approached the nearest pillar, gaze running over the hieroglyphs.

  “It’s the Book of the Dead.” Yael’s voice made her jump.

  “How do you know that?”

  “‘My name is known in Upper Egypt’,” he read, “‘and my name will be remembered in all of Lower Egypt, on this day’…” His voice trailed away.

  “You read hieroglyphic?”

  “I told you I knew several languages.”

  Damnit, he had. And she’d never asked what those languages were.

  She turned back to the pillar and scanned for the cartouche that would indicate the spell-caster’s name, but there was none.

  Time to look at the sarcophagus.

  She was two steps away from the stone coffin when Dr. Campbell appeared in front of her. “Dr. Broome, just a moment.” He threw a handful of sand onto the floor between her and the coffin.

  “What are you doing? You shouldn’t be introducing foreign matter into the tomb, it’s bad enough that we are in here—”

  “It’s okay. You can go now.” Then he scuttled away, over to where Luke stood studying the three other sarcophagi.

  She turned to Yael, who was watching everything with laser precision
. “Did you see what he did?”

  “Yes.”

  “The audacity!”

  “Mmmm.”

  She glared at him. “Are you humoring me?”

  He smiled, and the expression made her breath catch in her throat. He was always handsome, to the point where she had almost grown used to it. But his smile, his real smile, not the perpetual smirk or the fake lascivious grin, that was something new. And it was devastating.

  “I would never dare. Now, let’s see who this bad boy belongs to.”

  Chapter 22

  Yael could see why Lucifer had ensured a Cornak demon was on hand for the tomb opening. There were curses upon curses here, although many had already been triggered and were simply echoes of their former glory. But for the active ones…well, it appeared Cornak demons were as good at destroying them as they were at making them. There had been at least four that the demon had disabled before Rowan had reached them.

  And, thanks to his Clear Sight spell, Yael had been able to prevent Rowan from stepping into some other nasty bits of magic, as well.

  Lucifer should really have had her working by Campbell’s side.

  Or kept her by his, if she was really that important to him.

  But no, Lucifer had been following the Cornak demon from object to object, demanding to know if a certain something—he hadn’t said what—was there.

  So, he’s searching for an artifact in particular.

  Yael had thought that the entire dig was perhaps an elaborate hoax to get closer to Rowan, to seduce her into his circle, but since the Hell-lord had only been here a total of two days, he was beginning to realize that Lucifer really was interested in the dig itself.

  Dude does love to collect antiques.

  After listening to Rowan and the others for the past few weeks, Yael knew that the Hell-lord wasn’t going to be able to just sneak an artifact out the door, however. Not unless he was the first one to find it, and then evade discovery by Mustafa or Rowan.

  He could just rewrite their memories. It shouldn’t be too difficult for an archangel to do.

  Maybe that’s what he’s been planning all along.

  Yael scanned the tomb for more spells, but there were even fewer than before. Campbell was methodically neutralizing them as he went. He’d focused on curses first, then regular spells after that. By tomorrow, it would probably be safe. How many humans have died in these things, because they didn’t know any better?

  Although, according to Rowan, curses didn’t exist.

  “It says this belongs to Neferneferuaten. This could be Nefertiti.” Rowan pointed down at the sarcophagus, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

  Damn.

  That expression was like a punch to the gut.

  I want her to look at me like that.

  Wait, no he fucking didn’t.

  Clearly, he needed to get his head checked or something.

  Kayla paused her videoing. “We won’t be able to open the coffin for days.”

  “If ever.” Rowan’s expression turned rueful. “There’s so much to translate.”

  There was. The walls and ceiling were covered in hieroglyphics and art. And from what he’d read, there was a lot dedicated to the remembering of the pharaoh’s name. Like they knew they it was going to be forgotten and were trying to stave off the inevitable.

  He was about to wander over and eavesdrop on Lucifer’s conversation when Rowan swayed, unsteady on her feet. Leaping forward, he grabbed her arms, clenching his teeth against the pulse of awareness that speared through him at the contact. “Are you okay?”

  She tried to pull away from his grip, but it was a token effort. “I’m tired.”

  “Did you sleep at all, last night?”

  She shook her head, red curls bouncing.

  Fuck.

  Yael looked over his shoulder at Kayla. “I’m going to take her back to the compound.”

  “Right.”

  Then he swept the protesting Rowan into his arms, and strode down the long passageway, into the fresh air. Hot sand, sizzling sun and life. That’s what the Human Realm smelled like outside the tomb. It seemed to revive her slightly, and she struggled against him.

  “What happened? Anyone die?” Dru was at his side in an instant.

  “No one died.” He rolled his eyes.

  “Pity. There are at least two assholes in there.”

  He fought a grin. “Yeah, well, I’m still alive, thanks.”

  Yael didn’t particularly like Dru most of the time, but now and again he did find her amusing.

  “Can you let me go?” Rowan asked.

  Shit, he’d forgotten he was still holding on to her. And the close proximity was doing things to him. Unwelcome things.

  How can one tiny human make me so hard?

  It was fucking embarrassing. At least she seemed to have no clue.

  He put her down.

  Dru gave him a curious stare, then turned to Rowan. “Let’s go.” The two women walked toward the parking lot, and he was surprised to note they were almost the same height. Rowan just seemed more fragile than Dru. Like he could snap her if he held her too tight.

  Azrael suddenly appeared at his side.

  Yael glared. “Where have you been?”

  “Checking out the site. Where’s Lucifer?”

  “In the tomb right now.”

  Azrael gave a slight shudder. He and Dru had stayed clear of Starre since his arrival, probably the smartest thing Dru had done for a while. Yael expected Azrael to be sensible about it, though. Except for Dru, the guy was shrewd, and had cunning down to a fine art.

  At the parking lot, Dru and Rowan were arguing over who should drive.

  “There’s something not right about this whole set up,” Azrael said.

  “I agree completely. Can Dru even drive?”

  “No idea. Not that that would stop her.” Azrael strode toward the cambion. “Dru!”

  Deciding to take the passenger seat before anyone was the wiser, Yael was mildly surprised when Rowan got in the driver’s side.

  “Should you be doing that?” She’d almost collapsed from fatigue ten minutes prior; driving probably wasn’t the best idea.

  “I can make it the five minutes.” And she did. Hunched over the steering wheel, grimly focused, she drove with more precision than Mustafa managed on a good day.

  He followed her to her room, noting how she took exaggerated steps in her efforts to walk straight. It’s like she’s drunk. Except she hadn’t touched alcohol after their first night in Cairo.

  Once inside, she handed him a towel and headed for the bathroom.

  Yael stared down at the material then back at Rowan. Panic clawed at him. Was she inviting him to…? “Why did you give me this?”

  Her cheeks flushed. “I meant to give you a blanket.” She plucked the towel from his hands. “This was meant to be for me.”

  “Right. I don’t need a blanket.”

  She stopped outside the bathroom door, her lips pursed in confusion. “Why not?”

  “I’m not staying. Dru and Azrael will be here to watch over you.”

  Her expression turned shuttered. “Oh.”

  “I’ll be back later. I have a few errands to run.”

  “Fine.”

  Was she angry at him?

  The sharp click of the bathroom door seemed to indicate she was.

  But I didn’t do anything.

  Confused, he stepped out onto the porch. He paused at the sight of Lucifer leaning against the wall. He’d taken his glasses off, and his brown hair was loose around his face. “I see you and Rowan are well acquainted.” Something dangerous glittered in the Hell-lord’s eyes.

  “Yeah. We’re B.F.F.s.”

  “You’re what?”

  “Never mind.” Would it hurt the guy to use the Internet every once in a while?

  “Don’t get too comfortable with your situation. It will be over soon.” />
  “Really?” Yael supposed he should be frightened by Lucifer; he could feel the Hell-lord’s power emanating from across the porch. But he’d never really done what was expected of him. Plus, he’d kind of gotten over his terror of archangels when they’d cut his wings off.

  “The dig will be over soon, and so will your usefulness.”

  He grinned. “I wouldn’t be too sure of that.” Then he sauntered off the porch.

  Lucifer appeared in front of him. Teleportation. Yael drew up short. “Rowan Broome is mine, angel. Keep your hands and dick to yourself, and I’ll let you live. Touch her, and I’ll kill you.”

  Yael just lifted an eyebrow.

  The Hell-lord vanished.

  Yael moved to a shadowed area behind the back of Rowan’s rooms and prepared to open a Devilsgate. Azrael found him there. “You leaving?”

  “I need to grab a few supplies and get some sleep.”

  “Didn’t you do that earlier?”

  “I had trouble.” He didn’t want to mention that he’d had one great, big, long sex dream about Rowan. He’d woken irritated and unrested. He was going to go to her grandmother and get some ‘help’ to fall asleep.

  Azrael clapped him on the shoulder. “Get some rest. Dru and I will take care of the human.”

  “Thanks.”

  Yael threw a handful of dust into the air, and muttered, “Cat on a Broomstick, Manhattan.” The back alley behind the magic store appeared in the center of the glowing circle, and he stepped through, not bothering to look back.

  Azrael had this.

  The alley was dark and poorly lit—deliberately so, he thought—and it smelled like piss and garbage. The back door to the Cat opened, spilling yellow light onto the stoop. Dora stood framed in the doorway, the light behind her creating a kind of whacked halo.

  The elderly woman eyed him up and down. “You’re late.”

  He checked his watch before he could help himself. “I didn’t have an appointment.”

  “Hmph. Here.” She thrust a hessian bag at him.

  He closed the distance between them and took it. “What’s this?”

  “Extra neutralizing spells. A few more Devilsgates. And I added a bit of sleeping powder as well.”

  Narrowing his eyes, he opened the sack. Sure enough, there were spells galore in there, plus a little plastic bag of green dust.