His fingers squeezed the handset. “You did?”
“Yes, in the Mortus den photographs.”
“You found a reference to an Egyptian pharaoh in the Mortus den?” Maybe he needed to get his ears checked.
“Yes. The author was quite the megalomaniac, and narcissistic—I still have to work out her identity—but she mentions the stones of Heaven.”
Stones of Heaven.
He snorted.
Like Heaven had balls.
When Raze remained quiet, Yael said, “I’m not following.”
A long-suffering sigh came down the line. “She documents that there are three stones; one for the angels, one for the humans, and one for the demons.”
Three pieces.
Heaven’s Heart was apparently comprised of three components, and they had to find all of them in order to win their way back into Heaven.
Yael walked to the edge of camp, out of hearing range of the archaeologists and the guards. “You’re saying the stones of Heaven are actually Heaven’s Heart?”
“Yes. I might not have put this together, except that we now know that Z’s piece of the Heart is of mineral composition.”
Yeah, Z had a dirty big rock stuck in his abdomen, courtesy of the Infernus demons who had kidnapped him. They’d stored it there for ‘safe-keeping’—after they’d stolen it from the Holy Sanctum—except now it had fused with the angel’s body. The Infernus had come to retrieve it, and they’d died.
Z still hadn’t told the archangels that he had it.
So that would be the angelic component…
“But what has this got to do with Twosret?”
“We know the other two pieces of Heaven’s Heart have been missing for millennia. But they weren’t meant to be stored away in a chamber, they were meant to be used.”
“Okay.” He figured Raze would get to the point. Eventually.
“The markings in the Mortus den prophesize that the good god, daughter of the sun, last of her dynasty, witness of Troy, will lie undisturbed for millennia. She was supposedly buried with the stone that was gifted to her by Amun. It says she is the catalyst; the discovery of her tomb will either stop or start the end of days.”
The end of days?
Yael needed a drink.
Were they talking Armageddon now? Because damn. They were only meant to be on a quest to find some stupid rocks. Get back into Heaven. That sort of thing. Not save the bloody world.
“How do you know the reference means Twosret, or even an Egyptian?” Yael asked. They had to be sure this was the right information. Especially if there was doom and gloom to be had.
“She was the last king of the Eighteenth Dynasty. Her title was Daughter of Re—the sun—and one of the words for pharaoh—neter nefer—translates to the good god.”
He knew that. Well, the good god bit, anyway. He could read Egyptian, after all. But he was still skeptical. “I’m sure plenty of female pharaohs had the title ‘Daughter of Re’.” He knew Hatshepsut had; he’d been doing some ‘light’ reading.
“Cleopatra, Twosret, and Sobekneferu all ruled the last of their dynasties,” Raze said. “But Troy fell around 1200 BCE. That was near the time of Twosret’s rule.”
Well, there you go then. That was more convincing.
“So, you think Lucifer is after Twosret because she might have been buried with the Heart?”
“It’s as good a theory as anything else. And to be fair, this would work to our advantage if she’s in the tomb you’re working on.”
“She isn’t. And Lucifer went in first, so if her body had been there, he would have found the Heart.”
“It may be hidden in the chamber itself.”
“Quite possible. But it’s growing more and more likely that the tomb we found belongs to Nefertiti.”
“Fascinating.”
Yael swore he could hear the cogs spinning in Raze’s mind. “Yeah, archaeological find of the century blah blah. But if the Heart is with Twosret, we have to find her.”
He’d come back and look for her himself if he had to. He’d just need to be armed with a whole bunch of concealment spells.
He ended the call. Mind spinning, he stayed quiet when Rowan approached.
“I just can’t let it go,” she said, voice soft.
He glanced at her, then tucked his cell away. “Let what go?”
“The place where I think we need to dig. I can’t explain it.” She ran a hand over her head, clearly frustrated with herself.
“Then ask for permission.”
“We only have the permit—”
“Dr. Mustafa seems pretty pissed at Starre at the moment. He might pull some strings for you, just to see you fail.”
“To see me fail?”
“Yes, you’re Starre’s pet archaeologist. The co-director who was forced on him. You want to dig where everyone says there’s nothing. You dig, you find nothing, he looks good.”
“I’m not sure why he’d stick his head out for that. It’s rather petty.”
“Humans are petty.”
She gave him an odd look, then with a deep breath, turned on her heel and walked purposefully toward the marquee.
He had no idea, of course, whether Mustafa really was that small-minded. But if she didn’t ask, she wouldn’t get. And Hell, maybe the Egyptian director wanted to dig a bit more of the valley up. His helping her might entirely be altruistic.
His phone rang again.
For fuck’s sake.
He checked the caller I.D. this time: Dora.
Great. Just what I need. Rowan’s gran checking in on them to see what had been going on.
“Afternoon, Dora.”
“It’s morning here.” He swore he could hear a cane being stamped on the ground.
“How nice for you.”
“You haven’t given me an update for a while. Actually, ever.”
“One, you didn’t ask for updates. And two, I thought you had spies to let you know what was going on.”
Her voice turned icy. “And those spies told me you were attacked by a militia of Envio demons.”
“I wouldn’t use the term ‘militia’. More like a group?” He hadn’t meant that to be a question.
Thankfully, she left it alone. “I take it you all made it out alive.”
“Yes.”
“How was Rowan?”
“She seems to have bounced back.” Remarkably well, for someone who had had her first taste of violence.
“She has a wonderful ability to forget things that don’t fit with her worldview.”
That he could believe. She had ignored the fact she was teleported back to the compound. She hadn’t even brought it up.
Then again, wouldn’t most humans?
Which reminded him… “How accurate are Rowan’s ‘gut feelings’?”
There was silence for a few heartbeats. “She has never been wrong.”
“Is that a latent magical ability?”
“I think so. But she’ll just tell you she’s lucky.”
Yael turned back to the marquee. Mustafa was on his cell, and Rowan was pacing back and forth next to him. So, the co-director had decided to make the call? Go along with her idea?
“I’ve got to go.”
“Don’t forget to update me.”
“Sure thing, Gran.” He hung up on her swearing.
Chapter 30
Yael had been right.
Within two days, Dr. Mustafa had managed to wrangle some changes to their permit and convinced the government to grant Rowan permission to excavate on the other side of the visitor’s walkway. She didn’t know if he’d done it out of spite or out of curiosity. At this point, she’d didn’t care.
The downside—and there was always a downside—was that she’d only been given two workers, and she was only allowed to excavate one three-meter by three-meter trench. She’d been traipsing up and down the area for the past two hours, try
ing to decide where best to place her single excavation pit.
“Is this some kind of ritual?” Kayla’s voice made Rowan jump.
“What?”
“The pacing and the muttering and the staring.” Kayla watched her curiously. She was wearing her usual khaki pants and shirt, with no hat. If Rowan neglected her headgear, she’d turn into a peeling lobster. Kayla didn’t seem to get sunburned at all.
Rowan’s cheeks flushed. “No, it’s simply me being indecisive.”
She should just pick a place and be done with it. She bit the inside of her cheek. But what if she got it wrong? She only had one chance. And she didn’t want to waste it, nor make herself look like a fool.
She scanned the beige sand, the orange cliff, as if they could tell her the answers.
Where? Where? Where?
Yael strode up beside her. “Just close your eyes and point.”
She drew herself up to her full height. “That is not very scientific.”
He folded his arms. “Well, the radar-thingy says there’s nothing here. Everyone else says there’s nothing here. Your entire argument to dig here is not based on science; it’s based on gut instinct. So, close your eyes, raise your hand and point somewhere.”
She wanted to argue that he was wrong, that she was cool and logical and that she never made a decision without weighing all the facts. But he was right. She was acting crazy, insisting that there was something here when all evidence pointed to the contrary.
But for some reason she couldn’t explain, she couldn’t let it go.
Then again, she’d never been able to let anything go. It was a fault of hers, one she hadn’t been able to override.
Maybe it’s worse because Eric is gone, you just witnessed someone get their arm chopped off, and you’re missing time. Again.
The first occasion had only been a few minutes, but it had happened about a week or so after she’d first met Luke. Occasionally, she’d remember a man with black hair and yellow eyes, but the memory was slippery and she couldn’t hold on to it.
Yael and Kayla were staring at her expectantly.
“Fine.” She blew out a steady stream of air and closed her eyes.
Now what?
You point at something, idiot.
It seemed so silly.
But she didn’t have a better idea.
Raising her arm, she moved it from side to side, and thought, Twosret, where are you?
Her arm cramped suddenly, and she fought the urge to cry out in pain. But as she moved it, the discomfort lessened, until there was no ache at all. She stilled.
“There.”
Opening her eyes, she realized she was pointing directly at her feet.
Great.
“Maybe I should do it again—”
“No take-backs.” Yael shook his head. “You’ve chosen.”
“Perfect.” Kayla bent down and shoved a tiny wire flag into the ground between Rowan’s hiking boots. “X marks the spot.”
“It’s a flag.”
Kayla smirked. “Don’t be so pedantic. Go get your stuff and mark out your trench.”
Laughing huffily, Rowan walked back to the marquee for her kit. She rubbed her arm absently, wondering if she’d imagined the cramp. I probably haven’t been drinking enough water. A lack of magnesium could cause cramps, too. She should probably start taking multivitamins.
Her small kit in hand, she went back to the lonely little wire flag. Yael stood over it, as if he was protecting it from harm. It was kind of sweet.
No, don’t think that.
It was a slippery road, that one. A month and a half ago, she would have said his proximity, or his occasional acts of kindness meant nothing. That she would never view him as anything more than eye-candy. But that was before she’d changed, before she’d realized that she only had herself to rely on, and that she liked him.
Oh god.
She squeezed her eyes shut against that thought.
“Yo, Rowan. You gonna put your stuff down or just stand there staring at the flag?”
She opened her eyes, leaning back when Yael waved a hand in front of her face. He can also be an asshole when he wants to. But that didn’t change the fact he was also always just…him. Eric had been more reserved. She had liked it at first, considering the havoc her family represented. But now she realized she needed someone more down-to-earth.
Yael was waiting for her to speak. “I was contemplating my next move.”
He tucked his hands in his pockets. “Uh, dig the hole?”
She laughed. “No.” It was going to be a while before she could put trowel—or more accurately, hand axe—to the ground.
“But you need to dig a hole.” Yael glared at the tiny flag like it had suddenly grown horns.
“I do. But I have to measure it out, make sure it’s square, record it with the survey equipment and take a dumpy level—”
“You have to take a what?” Both his eyebrows flew up.
“Dumpy level.”
Dru appeared then, from God-knew-where. She had a habit of sneaking up on people. Rowan looked around for Azrael and spotted his dark silhouette in the distance. “You’re taking a dump on the site? Is this a ritual thing?”
What was with all the questions about rituals? Like Rowan was the one under the microscope. “I am not taking a dump on the site. I am measuring its height above the valley floor. The equipment you use to measure it is called a dumpy level.”
“Ohhh.”
Both Dru and Yael seemed relieved. Like, really relieved.
Hanging her head, she tugged her hat down low over her face.
I can’t believe they thought I would…poop…on the site before I excavated it. If they’d been joking, they were good actors to look so confused and concerned.
“Here.” She shoved a tape measure at Yael. “Hold this.”
He grabbed it out of reflex.
Time to get to work.
Chapter 31
Now that Yael was paying more attention to the tasks Rowan was performing—rather than wandering the site and ensuring her safety—he was coming to realize that archaeology was boring.
There was a lot of notetaking, a lot of standing around holding stuff, and a lot of laborious digging. Sure, he’d gotten behind the pickaxe a time or dozen himself, purely because he thought he’d go crazy watching Rowan swing a tool almost as tall as she was. She was competent enough with it—she hadn’t taken her foot off, at any rate—but it had also felt good to let some steam off.
Plus, he was the fastest at it.
And he needed a distraction, because sharing a room with Rowan was killing him, one hard-on at a time.
It was all because she’d asked for that damned hug. He knew he shouldn’t have given in, but he had, and now whenever he stayed with her at night—on the floor—he knew what it was like to feel her body pressed up against him. How her breasts felt against his chest, her legs against his…
Damnit.
He quickly adjusted himself, pretending to bend down and tie his shoelace.
This was becoming a nightmare.
What’s more, she clearly had not been sleeping well lately—despite the fact that, in his arms, she’d slept like a baby. She had even called out his name in her sleep. Not Lucifer’s or her dead boyfriend’s. His. And not in a sexy way; in a frightened-please-save-me-way. He’d sat on her bed at one point and held her hand until she stopped thrashing and calmed down.
He’d held her fucking hand.
He, who didn’t believe in comfort or helping people unless he had to, had gone over to Rowan at her most vulnerable and tried to calm her back to sleep.
He straightened and noticed Kayla leering at him. The demon had slowly grown on him, which was annoying. But he liked her attitude, and the fact that she seemed to have really tried to bond with Rowan, who appeared to enjoy their friendship.
When did I start caring what Rowan likes and d
oesn’t like?
It wasn’t a good sign.
He was growing attached.
And that is why I do wet work, and not close protection.
Although, if she hadn’t been clever, driven and assertive, he probably would have been able to maintain his distance.
Sighing, he grabbed the pickaxe from where it rested upright against the trench wall. Time to do some more hard labor so his mind wouldn’t focus on stupid shit.
Like how it would be to actually kiss her.
He swung the axe down hard. It slammed to a stop, jolting back up through his arm. “What the fuck?” He let go of the handle and rotated his shoulder. It was tough digging, working through the compact dirt of the valley, but it wasn’t usually so resistant.
That had hurt.
“What is it?” Rowan stood near the edge of the pit—which was already six feet deep—and peered down at him from under the shade of her hat. Her face and shirt were covered in beige smudges from where she’d been sieving the dirt. He was beginning to wonder at the sanity of archaeologists, but she looked rather charming despite the stains.
No more cute shit.
“The axe met some resistance,” he replied.
“Really?” She clambered down the ladder and met him in the middle of the trench. The two workers stopped what they were doing and came over too. It was pretty crowded, huddled together like that. But he made it work.
Rowan crouched down next to the embedded axe and pulled her trowel out of the little holster she kept it in. Until he’d seen it, he’d only thought holsters were for weapons. Who knew?
Rowan troweled around the axe point. “It shouldn’t have lodged like this unless it’s embedded in rock.”
The three of them stood around for her for another fifteen minutes while she laboriously scraped around the tool. It was boring. And exciting. And also boring.
“There!” Rowan sat back on her heels and they peered over her shoulder.
“It’s more dirt?” Yael asked, scanning the ground for something, anything. If this was the entry to Twosret’s tomb…
“No, it’s stone.” She twisted her neck to glance up at him. “I think it might be a stair.”
The workers talked excitedly amongst themselves and hurried to grab trowels out of the equipment box. They weren’t trained archaeologists, but they seemed to know what to with the equipment better than Murdoch and Campbell did. And certainly better than Yael.
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