Immortal Dynasty (7 page)

“What if it was meant to be a sign to me? A warning?” She brought her hand back to cover her mouth, lines of worry deepening on her face. “That would explain why that statue was the only item taken. The image of Inanna’s daughter.”

“I want revenge,” Therion threw his glass into the cold fireplace, “on all of them. After all, it is my destiny.” A wicked gleam glittered in his eyes.

“Time is running out, then. We must find that amulet and restore your powers.” She tossed a flame from her hand into the fireplace, where it roared across the dried logs.

The cell phone buzzed against his hip, startling him. “You’d better be calling with good news.” His voice whipped through the room. “Excellent. Stay put, and call me if he leaves.” He snapped the phone shut. “Darius is home.”

“Excellent, indeed. Why don’t we summon him here?” She opened a desk drawer and pulled out a legal pad, her hand swirling around the paper quickly.

“You want to invite him over?” Therion held his temper in check, but he could not control the sarcasm in his voice. “For what? Tea? Will you seduce him to get the answers you seek?”

“Mind your fool tongue when you speak to me.” The cell phone in his hand cracked in two. “It’s simple. Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.”

His anger disappeared instantly, and he allowed her to plant a chaste but overlong kiss on his lips. “I have no intention of seducing your rival. I just want to toy with him. Find out what he knows. Possibly make a bargain with him.”

“I did like that statue very much.” For a moment, her son looked like a young boy who’d had his bicycle stolen.
Pathetic.

“Forget the stupid statue. What I promise is to find that amulet and restore your powers.” She smoothed back the hair dangling over his eyes. “We do want to rule the world, don’t we?”

Yes. She saw it clearly in his dark eyes. He wanted to crush them all.

* * *

Shaila awoke to an aroma of something so delicious her mouth watered. She shivered from the overload to her raw senses. A smooth blanket was snuggled around her, and she lay on something soft but cool. She heard two men talking very near, and her heart sang with joy because the sound was not dulled or muted. From inside the statue, she had already attuned to the new vibrational patterns of this language.

It was torture to refrain from jumping into the air and screaming that she was finally alive again. But she convinced her limbs to remain very still, for neither voice sounded familiar.
Where is my priest?

“Pass me those fries? Thanks.” The first voice was full of energy and curiosity. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

“I did. I found Papa’s notes on the statue. It’s written in Arabic, so give me a minute to translate his penmanship.” The second voice was much deeper, rich with strength. “There are references to the 18th Dynasty and the reign of Smenkhkare. It’s hard to read, but I think it says that she was there to protect something.”

“Protect what? A pharaoh’s tomb?” It was the first voice again. “Does it say anything about a woman inside the statue?”

They were speaking about
her
.

“Here is the page where he wrote down the prophecy. I know this by heart. He lectured me with it so many times.” The second voice now sounded hollow with sadness and regret.

“Your grandfather’s a brilliant man, Dare, and interesting. It takes men like him, who believe in three thousand year old prophecies, to make the biggest discoveries.” She appreciated the respect in that voice.

She heard a rustling that she couldn’t identify, but still she held her eyes tightly shut.

The second man cleared his throat.
“Before the
Age of Awakening
, a commander of armies will rise up and smite those who govern. This descendant of Apophis will be the face of evil, resurrecting a dark army and defiling the world. The sickness of evil will bring hopelessness and despair. But a light shines from the Heavens. We send a gift to man. A protector and a deliverer to smite the evil of chaos and restore the order of peace. Entombed to sleep through the ages and awaken when the evil conqueror sinks fangs into men. We pray to the gods to protect this tomb and deliver this gift to the world.”

Moisture gathered in the corners of her eyes. She could have recited that from memory too. She knew the truth of those words. She helped write that prophecy. She had sent that gift. How long ago did the first voice say? Over three thousand sun cycles? It had felt like an eternity.

Goddess, what smells so good?
She could not wait any longer. The evidence of her hunger drooled from her lips. She struggled to open her eyelids. Thousands of years nearly glued them together. Finally, they parted slightly. She winced as light lanced painfully into her eyes.

From underneath her lashes, she had a good view of the two men. They sat on the opposite side of a short table from her. She spotted what possibly was the source of the aroma. Little yellow sticks, which they fished out of a small red box made of…papyrus?

“Do you think she’s really an ancient goddess?”

A shrill sound buzzed through the room, vibrating her bones and jarring her fully awake. Shocked, her heart nearly pounded out of her chest. Furious energy pieced through her veins with white-hot pain.

A growl began deep in her throat as fear launched her over the back of the long chair. An old familiar sensation tugged at the roof of her mouth. Like a lioness, she rumbled a threat between clenched teeth, which now included two thin, shiny fangs. Her chest pumped furiously as she tried to catch her breath. She prepared to pounce on anyone stupid enough to wander too close.

Her eyes darted back and forth between the two men. The shorter of the two, with dark hair, had a shocked expression on his face. He was staring at her teeth. She lifted her upper lip, revealing a bit more of her sharp fangs. Power sang through her blood as he quickly retreated a few steps.

The other man, tall and shaven, seemed unaffected by her threats. In fact, the look in his eyes dared hers to look away from
him
. She bristled at the challenge. A sparkle of light caught her attention. Her eyes fixed on the medallion hung around his neck. It was her turn to be shocked. She sensed no power in his spirit.
Who is this human who carries an Eye of Ra?

Again the high-pitched sound rang through the air. Cocking her head to one side, she decided that the noise was coming from a brown box hanging over a doorway.

The dark-haired man now stared at her body paint. He looked away sheepishly when the tall one cleared his throat. The irritating noise buzzed insistently a third time.

“I think I’d better get that. They don’t appear to be going away.”

“What? You’re not going to leave me here with…her?” The dark one whispered. “What do I do with her?”

“Clothes would be a great start. Find something that will cover her up.” The tall one gestured towards her bare chest. He looked square into her eyes. “You. Stay.” He pointed to the long chair before striding out of the room.

She glared at his retreating back. No human had ever dared to talk to her in such a manner. It was she who commanded them, not the other way around.

She did not move while the men were gone. She just looked. Much time had gone by, as nothing around her looked normal. She knew not where
here
was or if she had reached the right time.

My knife!
Suddenly, she felt around her waist. Her knife was gone. The adrenaline that had flown through her and given energy to her body now ebbed away. The fangs recoiled into their sheath. Then, her knees buckled under her own weight. She sank limply to the floor.

Shaila mentally cursed her body for its weakness. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment that she had to rely on the tall one to return and assist her. He lifted her up with muscles unfettered by the bondage of time. She hated this feeling of feebleness, as he carried her in his strong arms. Jealousy prickled her spirit.

He arranged her on the long chair next to the little table. The savory aroma tempted her again. Her eyes locked on the little sticks poking out of the red papyrus. Unconsciously, she licked her lips. Suddenly, the sticks were right in front of her face.

“French fries.”

She looked up into warm gold-brown eyes. If not for the temptation so close to her mouth, she would have studied his eyes a bit more deeply. Instead, she slowly placed one stick on her tongue. She had no idea what it was, but it was divine. She could not get the rest into her mouth fast enough.

Shaila ignored the laughter. She wanted more. But the man just shook his head and had an apologetic look on his face. Leaning forward, she grabbed every piece of papyrus on the table. She growled with frustration at finding them all empty.

She was about to lick the salt off the red papyrus when the dark one came back. He carried a shiny black cloth. As he draped the long robe around her shoulders, a faint scent tickled her nose. The robe smelled like smoked apples.

The tall one held a flat papyrus in his hand, and paced back and forth. He kept looking at her with a questioning look. She could see his energy aura was strong and cunning, but it was also restless. She detected pain as well. She already knew from his order and his stance that he was commanding as well, like a pharaoh. Shaila understood human kings, having worked with many of them.

 
“Are--” She coughed, a small cloud of dust came up from her lungs. She had heard and felt the rhythms of conversation for so long, she knew basically what was being said around her. But the effort of speaking felt raw on her throat. “Are you pharaoh?”

He finally stopped pacing and laughed. “Me? No. My name is Darius Alexander. And this is Marcus Damato.” He point to the dark-haired man.

“Darius. Marcus.” Her voice croaked. She mentally focused on healing the rawness in her throat. “Strong names.”

“You speak English?” The tall one seemed pleased.

She scrunched her nose and nodded her head slightly. She stood up, tall and proud like a warrior. “I am Shaila a’k’Hemet.”

The dark-haired one, Marcus, looked down at the papyrus spread across the table. “I thought you were the goddess Sekhmet?”

She smirked with distaste at the pronunciation. “Humans found that better to say.”

“But you were an Egyptian goddess?” Marcus had much curiosity in him. She liked that.

She shrugged. “I am Anunnaki.”

The tall one, Darius, seemed unimpressed. In fact, he went back to his pacing, reading the papyrus he held in his hands. Had this human really just dismissed her so casually?

“They also called me
the
Mistress of Dread
and the
Lady of Slaughter
.” She tilted her head higher. The movement caused her robe to slip from one shoulder. He did stop his pacing to look at her, but amusement sparkled in his eyes instead of homage. Shaila seethed.

“Yes, and they also said that the hot desert winds were like your breath. Pleasant description, don’t you think?”

She nearly exploded with the indignity. This human who admitted that he was not the pharaoh needed a lesson in manners. Gathering a small bundle of energy, she mentally pushed it toward the man. It was not large enough to throw him against a wall, but it was enough to knock him back on his heels.

“
Do you mock me? Do you know who I am? I am descended of the Great Dragon Queen. I carry the bloodline of succession.” Now they were getting somewhere. His eyes had changed to surprise and…distrust. This warranted a deeper look. “Have you lost your sense of honor to your gods?”

“Not
our
gods, honey. Humans stopped believing in your divinity a couple thousand years ago.” He moved toward her until his face was inches from hers. “You’ve been replaced.”

This time, she saw in detail the golden flecks in his brown eyes. Through their dark centers, she could see into his soul. His aura, the energy trail around him, was strong but enveloped with the pain of loss. Darius jerked the robe back over her shoulder.

“Replaced?” She wondered what exactly he meant by that. What had happened to her kind? What would that mean for her? For the prophecy? Where was her priest? More importantly…where was the child?

Shaila was filled with questions, but she could not be certain of how much should she reveal to these men. Darius wore the
Eye of Ra
, but that did not mean he would be an ally. He would not be an easy human to control, and she wished that he would step back a bit. She felt more constricted than when she stood entombed in the statue.

“Where am I?”

Darius remained too close. She knew his intention was to show his dominance.

“Boston. You’re a long way from home. Egypt is almost on the other side of the Earth.”

Shaila mentally called out to her astral spirit, but it would not answer her. Without it, she could not flash herself to Egypt and be about her business. She was stuck here. “Who is pharaoh of Buston? I must speak with him.”

She stepped away from Darius, intent on leaving their dwelling, but the man would not let her pass.

 
“The pharaohs are long dead, Shaila. Leaving this house would be a very bad idea right now. And whatever you just did a moment ago…” He moved in even closer, until his nose nearly touched her own. “Don’t you ever do that to me again.”

She should have felt insulted with the impudent human. No man had ever dared to speak to her this way. Instead, her heart thumped a beat more quickly, and a spark of something hot flickered across her skin. She inhaled his scent. The warrior in her smelled a challenge.

She advanced on him with her full arsenal, the kind every female is born with.

“Darius.” Shaila put her palm on his chest, and with a gentle pressure she felt the tensing and flexing of his muscles. Capturing his eyes, she leaned in so closely that his breath mingled with hers. For a moment, she thought about his lips. Just a kiss. What would he taste like? “No one commands me.”

Oh, Goddess.
His skin was so close. She could feel the heat through his shirt. Blood pulsed more quickly through his heart, and she felt the lure of its hypnotic rhythm. What would his skin feel like? There was one enticing way she could show him who was in command.