Heir of Ra (Blood of Ra Book One)

by M. Sasinowski

  “Status?” the man’s voice came through her com.

  “Single male, a driver, waiting outside at a car,” she replied. “He just dropped off somebody at the entrance.”

  “Do we abort?”

  She considered. “Negative. Proceed.”

  A minute later a dark gray SUV turned into the driveway. It rolled to a smooth stop in front of the entrance, and two men stepped out. The driver of the white Benz glanced up lazily before turning again to his cigarette.

  Tasha said into the com, “I want all three of you inside. No room for mistakes.”

  The voice on the other end hesitated only a brief instant. “What about the exit?”

  “I will cover the exit,” she said.

  “Understood,” came the reply. Seconds later the third man got out of the car. Tasha watched the three men as they disappeared into the building.

  Her lips were a tight red knot as she placed her hand on the high-powered sniper rifle on the passenger seat.

  Paul dropped down next to Alyssa and tore the VR helmet from her head.

  “Alyssa!” he gasped. He gently lifted her head, cradling it in his arms.

  “Wake up!” he pleaded. He pressed his fingers against the side of her neck. A relieved sigh escaped his lips when he felt a pulse. He gently lifted her eyelids. Her pupils were large and dilated, but they constricted when the light hit them.

  “Alyssa,” he repeated again, gently patting her cheek.

  Alyssa moaned softly. Her eyelids fluttered, and she winced. “The lights,” she murmured, “they hurt…”

  Paul stretched his arm and flipped the light switch, engulfing them in darkness. As his eyes gradually adjusted, her features became clear once again in the faint glow of the light flowing in through the large window.

  “Paul, I’m so sorry.” Her voice was a whisper. “I had to.”

  “Shhh…” He cradled her head in his arms. “I know.”

  “No, Paul. You don’t… Cayce—and my grandfather—they were right.” She hesitated, taking in the weight of her words. “Atlantis was real. Horus destroyed it, all of it.” Her voice shook as the memories rushed back.

  “The Pureans killed his son. When Horus found out, he slayed them all. Destroyed every trace of them.” She grabbed his arms, shuddering. “Paul, he wiped them from history.”

  Paul stared wordlessly at her as she took in a slow breath.

  “The people who are after us, they’re trying to harness Horus’s powers. I think they want to reconstruct his DNA and combine it with their own.” She looked at him, sudden clarity in her eyes. “Paul, we can do the same to help my dad. Horus’s grandfather said that once the disease was unleashed, it would continue changing, spreading. That Hybrid blood was the only thing that could stop it. What if it’s using him as a host? Mutating into something much more dangerous? The Hall of Records was opened before. Renley’s grandfather… the dead people we saw in the video… I think the disease got out, it spread.”

  “What?”

  “Jake found out about Renley and his grandfather’s expedition right before World War I. The first cases of the 1918 influenza pandemic were found in Egypt, before the disease was carried to Spain by soldiers during World War I. If Renley’s expedition had anything to do with it…”

  Paul’s face caved at the sudden realization.

  “Paul, we have to stop this. This is much bigger than my father.” She sat up, her jaw set. “We have to get into the Hall of Records. It’s our only chance to prevent this. We must find a way to get inside… safely.”

  Paul studied her in silence. Her features were soft and indistinct in the darkness, but her eyes glowed with determination, the small crease between her eyebrows somehow making her appear even more beautiful than she already was.

  “Your dad was right,” he said finally. “His filter was deactivated. Clay confirmed it.” He felt her tense at the news.

  “But who would do that? And why?”

  “That’s not all. Clay also said that—”

  Alyssa put a finger on his lips and looked toward the other room.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “I heard something at the front door,” she whispered.

  Paul peeked into the foyer. His skin tingled as he watched a shadow move inside the condo. He slowly pushed the bedroom door closed with his foot until only a crack remained.

  He helped Alyssa sit up with her back against the bed then quietly got to his feet. He stared through the crack at the man stalking across the corridor. Paul stood frozen in place, his mind racing, considering his options.

  Paul’s heartbeat hammered against his temples as he waited breathlessly for the man to pass the bedroom. He ripped open the door and hurled himself at the stranger. Surprise gave him the edge, and he felt the man slump to the ground. Without warning, the man shifted his weight, and Paul found himself flying through the air past the intruder, crashing painfully onto the floor.

  He ignored the wave of pain in his back as he staggered to his feet, disoriented, but ready to fight.

  “Paul, wait!” He heard the man’s familiar voice.

  Paul gasped when he realized the man in front of him was Kamal!

  Kamal opened his mouth again an instant before his eyes glazed over and he slumped heavily to the ground. Alyssa stood behind Kamal’s limp body, the heavy VR helmet in her hand. Her chest rose in rapid breaths, her expression blank. She looked down at Kamal, her mouth falling open in sudden recognition. Paul bent over the body.

  “Is he—” the word stuck in her throat.

  Paul pressed his fingers against Kamal’s neck. He glanced up at her. “He’ll wake up with a mammoth headache, but he should be okay,” he replied. “Remind me never to tick you off.”

  Alyssa’s concerned expression shifted to disdain. “Now we know what happened to Kade’s filter!” Alyssa’s face tensed. “What if he wasn’t alone?” She hurried to the front door and peeked through the small crack into the hallway. She whirled.

  “Paul!” she whispered, alarm filling her voice. “Three bad-news guys just got out of the elevator!”

  “Close the door!” His scanned the large foyer. The dresser! He leaped to it and began shoving it toward the front door. Catching on, Alyssa hurried to help him barricade the door.

  “The crystal!” she yelled, turning to her bedroom.

  He grabbed her arm. “There’s no time!”

  She struggled, pulling toward the bedroom door.

  “Alyssa, now!” He held tight as she resisted.

  She whipped her head around and hissed at him, dark, fiery eyes burning into him. Then they heard the noise outside the front door.

  “The balcony!” he yelled, pushing her ahead of him. She groaned, her eyes darting back to the bedroom door as she crossed the living room toward the French doors. She pushed them open and rushed out onto the balcony.

  Paul came up behind her and looked over the wide marble railing to the street below.

  “That’s a good thirty feet! Way too high to jump!” he yelled. He checked the balconies on either side and frowned. Too far.

  Alyssa leaned out over the railing and looked down to the balcony on the floor beneath them.

  “The balcony below,” she said, her voice flat.

  “You’re out of your mind,” Paul stared at her. “One slip and we’re dead.”

  “We’re out of options!” She climbed over the railing without hesitation. “I’ll take my chances over those guys.”

  The front door burst open and slammed into the heavy dresser.

  “Go—now!” she called out to Paul, over the sound of the dresser scraping across the floor, as the front door was being forced open.

  Paul squeezed the railing until his knuckles turned white and followed her gingerly, swinging one leg over the wide balcony railing.

  Alyssa kept her feet firmly planted and inched her hands down one of the big stone columns of the railing, lowering her body into a crouching position. When her
hands were just above her shoes, she kicked off with her feet, using her hands as a pivot. As her feet swung back into the empty space between their balcony and the one below, she released her hands and arched her back, landing gracefully on the lower balcony. She looked up at Paul.

  “Your turn!”

  Paul’s heart pounded against his chest as if it was trying to crack a rib. “Have I mentioned to you that I hate heights?”

  He desperately tried not to think about the drop beneath him as he attempted to copy Alyssa’s graceful maneuver. Just as he swung back into the lower balcony, he heard the men bursting into the room above. He cringed and his right foot caught the railing, plummeting him headfirst toward the stone floor. Alyssa leaped to catch him an instant before they both crashed onto the balcony.

  “Well, that was exciting,” he said breathlessly, lying on top of Alyssa. “Thank you,” he mumbled.

  Alyssa grimaced, struggling to catch her breath. “No time for anything more.” She rolled him off her and jumped to her feet before staring down at him, rubbing her back. “Next time I’ll be the maiden in distress.”

  Before he could reply she turned to the balcony door. It was cracked open. She glanced inside when they heard the voices above them.

  “Go!” Paul whispered.

  She gently swung the door into the room and quietly hurried across, Paul at her heels. They tiptoed to the front door then dashed through it and sprinted down the hallway.

  Alyssa tore open the stairway door and charged through it. They raced down the stairwell, taking three stairs at a time until they burst through the door on the ground floor and bolted across the empty lobby for the exit, drawing bewildered stares from the night clerk behind the counter. Before he had time to react, Paul and Alyssa slipped through the tall glass door into the portico.

  Tasha watched with a hard smile as Paul and Alyssa emerged from the front entrance and tore down the street, away from the building. She lifted the sniper rifle from the passenger seat and cycled the bolt back to eject the high-powered round from the chamber. Her mouth was tight as she reached into her pocket and her fingers locked around the low-energy cartridge before she loaded it into the firing chamber.

  She took a deep breath and cleared her mind as she lowered the driver’s side window a hand’s width. She focused the sights on Alyssa’s head then moved the crosshairs down, visualizing the contour of the girl’s body. She waited for the pause between her heartbeats—and squeezed the trigger.

  Alyssa cried out, a searing pain tearing through her insides. She grabbed her left flank and gasped when she felt something wet between her fingers.

  “Alyssa! No!” Paul’s horrified voice sounded distant. The night started closing in around her, shrouding the street in a crimson haze.

  What a beautiful sunset, Alyssa thought as she felt Paul hands guiding her to the ground. Then darkness enveloped her.

  20 Intercontinental Hotel Cairo

  George Renley stood at the tall window, dressed only in his bathrobe, and surveyed the city below him. He took a sip from his teacup and savored the flavor of the Darjeeling as he scanned the desert in the distance. The panorama from his thirty-fifth floor penthouse suite provided a stunning view of the rising sun, a golden disk that cast shimmering mirages across the dunes and lit up the Nile like a million fireflies dancing on the surface of the water. He scowled when a buzz behind him interrupted his thoughts. Reluctantly, he turned from the window and picked up his phone.

  “Yes?”

  “George Renley?” The voice on the other line was breathless and trembling.

  “Yes.”

  “It’s Paul Matthews. I need your help.”

  Renley’s face remained a mask as he continued to listen. When Paul finished, Renley took a deep breath.

  “Stay where you are. I will be there in ten minutes,” he said, his lips curving upward in the barest of smiles.

  Paul sat on the cold pavement of the side alley as the white Rolls Royce Phantom approached and pulled smoothly to a stop next to him. He glimpsed down at Alyssa, her head cradled in his lap, and his stomach dropped for the tenth time in as many minutes. The dark circles around her eyes stood out against her pale skin, glistening with beads of sweat. Her chest rose and fell in shuddering breaths.

  “They’re here,” he said, fighting off the dizziness and forcing a smile.

  She smiled weakly in reply and licked her dry lips.

  Paul lifted his head and watched Renley and his driver get out of their car and approach them. He squeezed Alyssa’s hand.

  Renley’s expression was a mask as he stared at Alyssa.

  “How is she?”

  “I managed to stop the bleeding,” Paul replied, straining to sound calm. “I put a pressure wrap on her, but the bullet is still inside her body.”

  “She needs a hospital immediately,” Renley said. “We’ll go in my car.”

  “No hospitals.” Paul’s voice was firm.

  “She needs a doctor!”

  “Then get her a doctor. I know you have connections. No hospitals.”

  Renley pursed his lips in thought for several moments.

  “Very well.” He turned to his driver. “Let’s get her into the car.”

  The man moved toward Alyssa but stopped at Paul’s stare.

  “I’ll get her,” Paul said.

  The driver looked at Renley who gave him a small nod. The man lifted his arms, palms-out, and took a step back.

  Paul faced Alyssa. “Everything’s going to be okay,” he said softly, lifting a strand of hair off her cheek. He stroked her head. “Are you ready?” he asked.

  She nodded. He gently slid one arm under her legs and the other under her back. She winced as he lifted her and carried her to the Rolls Royce.

  Renley grimaced at the blood on her clothes. His expression warmed up when his eyes met hers.

  “Thank you,” she said quietly. “That’s two I owe you.”

  Renley gave her a tense smile and opened the rear door of the Rolls Royce. He reclined the rear seat and raised the footrest. He moved aside to let Paul ease her down into the seat.

  “I’ll sit with the driver,” Renley said.

  Paul looked at him gratefully. “How far?”

  “Less than thirty minutes. I will have a doctor waiting for us.”

  Half an hour later, Paul watched Alyssa and the gray-haired man standing at the side of the bed. Alyssa’s black bra and tan skin stood out against the white sheets as the man’s gloved hands gently touched her left flank. He studied the wound from behind his round metal-rimmed glasses, his sharp black beard thrust forward like a dagger.

  He opened a sterile package and bent over her arm. She winced as he inserted an IV line into her arm and connected it to a saline bag that he hung on the post of the bed.

  Paul flinched at the hand on his shoulder. He turned.

  “She is in good hands.” Renley’s voice was reassuring, but there was a strange light behind his eyes. “Dr. Nazari is the British ambassador’s personal physician.”

  Paul glanced at Renley. He had delivered on his promise and brought them to this sprawling manor house on the outskirts of Cairo, yet Paul could not shake the feeling they were in the lion’s den.

  Paul’s thoughts were interrupted by the physician’s voice. “Are you allergic to any medications?”

  When Alyssa shook her head, he squirted the contents of a syringe into the IV line.

  “What is that?” Paul asked.

  “Ceftriaxone. A broad-spectrum antibiotic,” Nazari replied. “Bullet wounds are relatively sterile, but she has been moved around quite a bit. The Ceftriaxone will serve as a preventive measure against any infections.”

  He put his hands into the bag and pulled out a laptop-sized device connected to a small, razor-shaped probe.

  He looked back to Alyssa. “This is a portable ultrasound machine. It will allow me to determine the extent of the damage the bullet caused to the inside of your body.”

 
Paul’s fingers plucked at the stubble on his chin as Nazari glided the probe across Alyssa’s stomach while he watched the display. He positioned Alyssa on her right side and examined her left side and back. After several minutes he exhaled deeply.

  “What is it?” Paul asked, unable to remain silent.

  “The bullet missed all vital organs and major blood vessels. The spleen, kidney, and their blood supplies have all been spared. The damage is limited to connective tissue. Just as fortunate is the fact that the bullet wound is relatively superficial.”

  Paul let out a sigh as the physician turned to Alyssa and used his forearm to adjust his glasses. “You had a guardian angel looking out for you, madam. A couple inches higher and you would have exsanguinated from a ruptured spleen, a couple inches to the right and your spinal cord would have been shattered.”

  Alyssa turned her head to Dr. Nazari. “So you’ll be able to get it out?”

  “I will be able to extract the bullet without much risk to the surrounding structures, but it will have to be removed in a sterile fashion.” He faced Paul. “I will have to prepare an operating field. It may be best if you wait outside.”

  “No.” Alyssa reached out and squeezed Nazari’s arm. “I want him to stay.” She turned to Paul. “Please don’t go.”

  Paul met her gaze, unblinking. “Don’t you fret. I’m not going anywhere.”

  The physician glanced at Alyssa, then Paul, his lips pursed. He cleared his throat. “You may stay, of course, but please stand clear of the sterile field.”

  “Understood,” Paul replied. He looked at Renley whose face was as expressionless as a slab of granite.

  “I will wait outside until Dr. Nazari has finished,” he said.

  Paul nodded absentmindedly and watched the physician gently touch Alyssa’s shoulder. “I will need you on your stomach for this procedure. Can you turn over for me?”

  Alyssa nodded and bit down on her lip. She winced softly as Nazari helped her turn onto her stomach.

  “I will administer a local anesthetic for the procedure,” Nazari said. “You’ll feel some discomfort initially, but it will help with the pain.”