Shadow of the Sheikh (18 page)

N
ephtys hurried to her meditation room and almost threw herself down on her knees in front of the Eye of Horus, her scrying bowl. All Khepesh was abuzz with the news of Haru-Re's impending attack. But Seth had locked her in her rooms with a triple guard posted at her door. No one was allowed in or out.

She needed to know what was happening!

Lord Shahin had ridden out to try and head off the invaders, but if the frantic report of his messenger was even remotely accurate, the small troop of guards didn't stand much of a chance.

She felt a wrenching stab of guilt and remorse for the sheikh's certain loss. He was a good friend
and there was no one in all of Khepesh more loyal to her brother. Shahin's death would be on
her
head. The war might not be her fault, but this battle surely was.

How she cursed her knowledge of the magic of immortality! She wished to the goddess she'd never become a priestess. That decision had brought nothing but grief into her life. She would have been better off staying a slave!

With shaking hands she fetched the holy water and poured it into the golden bowl, spilling half. Anxiously she sat and awaited the vision that would appear. And waited.

“Come on!” she cried, wringing her hands.

Finally, the surface of the water rippled softly and the clear blue slowly started to cloud.

Too
slowly!

She wanted to shout with impatience as it darkened to cobalt and hovered there in shadowed obscurity.

“Please!” she begged.

She needed to see an image of the desert above! She needed to see men fighting! She needed to watch Set-Sutekh bring forth a miracle so Shahin and his men could claim a glorious victory over impossible odds!

Instead, the bowl remained frustratingly, maddeningly cloaked in a veil of indigo.

Except… What was that?

In the depths of the seemingly blank vision, something moved. And she realized there was an image. Dim, indistinct, nearly impossible to make out, but there it was!
A bed.

She blinked several times and leaned in. Yes, it was a bed. In a darkened room. And there was a figure in it. That's what had moved.

The figure moved again. It resolved itself into a woman's form. Nephtys peered closer.

The woman looked like Gillian Haliday! But…a bit older. Was she seeing the future, perhaps?

No! This must be
Josslyn
Haliday! Shahin had said she looked just like her sister.

Then, something else moved in the vision. Behind the bed. Something that—

Sweet Isis!

Nephtys's gasp echoed sharply through the meditation chamber. There were three men standing next to Josslyn's bed, arms folded across their brawny chests, as though guarding the sleeping woman. But Nephtys knew better.

They were Haru-Re's men.

“Well, that's convenient,” the voice of the man himself said from right behind her. “I was afraid you wouldn't believe me.”

She leaped to her feet on another gasp and landed
in his iron grip. He seized her arms and held her fast. “Let me go!” she cried. “Or I'll scream!”

“Go ahead,” he said. “No one will hear you. This is a dream, remember?”

She tried to pull away, but it was no use. “I'm not asleep!” At least…she didn't think so.

He smiled and brushed a finger down her cheek. Sparks followed the movement. “Perhaps not. The spell is working its magic, blurring your lines between sleep and waking. Soon I may come to you anytime I wish and you'll be powerless to stop me.”

She shivered. “You're wrong, Haru-Re. I'll find a ward against you if it's the last thing I do.”

His smile just widened. “Good luck with that.” He glanced over her shoulder at the vision still playing out in the scrying bowl. “Meanwhile, my sweet, I shall have another amusement with which to divert myself.”

“Don't you
dare!
” She jerked away from him and this time she succeeded. “I'm telling you, leave Josslyn Haliday alone!”

His elegant black brows rose. “Or what?”

She wanted to slap him for his insolence and his accursed arrogance. It wouldn't have given her an answer to his infuriating question, but it would have felt oh, so very gratifying.

“I thought not,” he said smugly. He waved a hand
over the vision. The men looked up at him, and he ordered them, “Bring the woman to Petru.”

“No!” Nephtys cried as they stepped toward the sleeping mortal. “Wait!”

Haru-Re raised a hand for the men to halt. Then he leveled a look at Nephtys. The air around him shimmered. “I'm listening.”

Isis give her strength!
If Haru-Re took Josslyn, Seth would be devastated. He had never obsessed over a new consort before, not like he was with this one. It was as though her brother instinctively knew that Josslyn Haliday represented the last good hope for the future of Khepesh and their god. He'd trusted Nephtys's vision of this mortal woman's wisdom and, she suspected, he yearned for the glimpse of true love it hinted at.

Nephtys couldn't let the enemy defeat their beloved god. Or worse, steal her brother's eternal happiness. She just
couldn't
. She would rather die a slow death herself.

Therefore, she knew what she must do.

“What do you want for her freedom?” she asked.

“You know my price,” he said, his eyes glittering with imminent conquest.

She swallowed heavily, knowing only too well who would be the vanquished. “Me. My services
are to be shared between Khepesh and Petru for five hundred years. I believe that was the bargain you offered Lord Kilpatrick last week.” She nearly choked on the words.

Haru-Re laughed. “I'm afraid that offer has run out. Rhys Kilpatrick is now one of mine. And this hostage—” he pointed at Josslyn “—is worth far more than five hundred years of sharing you.”

Her stomach sank. “How long then? Six hundred?”

Sparks flew. He gave her a withering look. “Please, you insult me.”

“Eight hundred? A thousand?” she asked with growing apprehension.

“There will be no sharing!”
he boomed angrily. Above him, a bust of fireworks showered down, sending hot pinpricks over her skin. Then he took a calming breath and said, “It is only fair that Seth-Aziz and I make an even trade. Don't you think?”

She froze in consternation, suddenly terrified, foreboding exploding within her as surely as his fireworks. “What do you mean an even trade?”

He grasped her chin and lifted it so she must look him in his devilish eyes. “I mean, my love,” he growled, his voice low and thick with triumph, “if Seth-Aziz wishes to have this Haliday woman as his consort, then you must become mine!”

S
hahin's scimitar sliced through the neck of an enemy warrior, abruptly cutting off the man's scream. Crimson blood spurted into the sky like a fountain.

Hell, this one, at least, had died.

Thank the gods!

Shahin calmed his rearing mount and prepared himself for the next vicious attack. His troop of Khepesh guards were fighting fiercely, but so far, Shahin was the only one who'd scored a kill.

What in the name of Sekhmet's teat was going on?

From the corner of his eyes, he watched the
swords of his men cut and parry, only to pass through their opponents as though they were made of air.

With a start, Shahin suddenly understood. They were fighting apparitions! Conjured wisps of illusion—much like their own mounts.

Another bore down on him with a savage sneer, weapon poised to part Shahin's head from his body, He slashed out with his scimitar, to no avail. He ducked and wheeled out of the way.
Sweet Osiris.
If not a blade, what in God's name would kill the bastards?

The answer came swiftly, and just in time to save the man fighting next to him. A ghost warrior charged full bore, golden sword flying over his head in a deadly swirl. Shahin focused, gathering the powers within him into a giant, quaking, thundering ball of energy. He flung it hard at the enemy.

It struck with the slamming
boom
of an earthquake. The warrior's body splintered like a broken mirror, shattered bits of power flung outward in a glittering rainbow of dying pulses.

The Khepesh man he'd saved let out a triumphant yell. “My lord! You killed it!”

Shahin wheeled his mount, scanning the battlefield.
Good God.
One down, dozens to go.

“Guards of Set-Sutekh!” he shouted. “Use your
magic! They are but phantoms. Shatter them if you can, keep them busy if you can't!”

Instantly, his men regrouped and followed his orders. They fought like devils. But despite their considerable magical abilities, his guards were powerless against the enemy horde.

So it was all up to Shahin.

It took every ounce of his powerful magic to overcome the never-ending river of tenacious fighting phantoms, worked on horseback and at the last second before being sliced to ribbons himself. He was certain it was only thanks to his enhanced powers from last night's exchange with Seth that he had the ability to eventually turn the tide, one by one.

When it was over, Shahin reined in his horse, scraped the blood from his brow with his sleeve and shaded his eyes against the blazing morning sun. He did a full-circle, quickly searching the battlefield for any movement. There was none.

They had earned their legendary moniker today: the death warriors of Set-Sutekh had triumphed once again.

Not one of the enemy had been left alive. And yet, for the amount of killing he and his men had done, surprisingly few bodies littered the ground. Of the entire horde of invaders only a handful had been flesh-and-blood immortals, and those few now
lay sprawled on the sand minus their heads, well and truly dead.

Shahin scowled and studied the remains as he regained his breath and slowed his heartbeat from the fury of battle.

A bad feeling climbed up his spine like an arachnid.

Something was not right about this.

The enemy had put on a good show, but not good enough. Ten men had won against five score?

“My lord! Victory is ours!” one of his men shouted jubilantly as the others rode up to join him with a clatter of hooves.

Shahin narrowed his eyes and continued to stare at the battlefield.

“My lord? Something wrong? Are you injured?”

He turned to meet their concerned gazes. “Believe me, no one is happier than I to be alive. But this was far too easy a victory for us.”

His men stirred on their mounts, frowning. “Sir? If it hadn't been for your powers, we could never have prevailed.”

True enough. Still… “If this is an invasion, where are the rest of Petru's immortal guard? It's like this conjured force was sent just to test us, win or lose,” Shahin mused.

“That makes no sense,” another man said,
sheathing his bloody sword. “Why would Haru-Re send even a handful of his men to die for no reason?”

“Men he can ill-afford to sacrifice,” a third reminded him. “He has more immortals than we, but his numbers are dwindling because Petru has no priestess to create new ones. We do. Our loss could be made up for. Not these men.” He pointed to the dead.

“Indeed,” Shahin said grimly. Then comprehension hit him like a blade in the gut. He should have seen it sooner.
Nephtys.
The priestess had long been the object of Haru-Re's strategems. This battle was surely a diversion, to lure him and the palace guards away from Khepesh to make a bid for her capture.

It was a damn good thing he'd decided to leave the bulk of the guard minding the palace. His troop's willing sacrifice had paid off.

An errant thought of Gemma flashed through his mind. Perhaps he wasn't meant to die today after all.

He wheeled his mount and shouted the order, “Gentlemen, shift! We must return to Khepesh with all haste!”

With a whirl of robes, a flash of wings and fur and a slow dissolve of their mounts, he and his men
shifted to their Set-animal forms and flew, pounded and scampered toward the palace.

Shahin just prayed they would get there in time to help save their home and loved ones.

 

When the small troop arrived at the Great Western Gate, everything seemed…completely normal.

The bulk of the guard ran out to greet them as the gate swung open to admit the ragged and bloody warriors. No one had expected to see them again. At least not alive. “By Thot's scales, it's good to greet you, my lord!” his lieutenant called heartily. “Hail to the conquering heroes!” There were cheers and slaps on the back as the valiant troop entered.

Shahin quickly pulled his lieutenant aside with a wary frown. “Is all well here at the palace, then?”

“Yes, my lord. Every one of the guard is on duty, full alert and battle stations as ordered. All has been quiet.”

Shahin was fairly stunned. So the battle
hadn't
been a diversion? “Seth-Aziz? The Lady Nephtys?”

“Both safe. Lord Seth is in his audience chamber, the priestess locked safely in her rooms. Guards are posted at both doors.”

“And outside, at the old tomb entrance?” he pressed. As they'd found out the night Rhys Kilpatrick and Lady Gillian escaped Khepesh,
the only other way out of the palace was through a hidden door in the council chamber which led to Seth-Aziz's ancient tomb. Few knew about the secret tomb entrance, but it was the palace's spot of greatest vulnerability. Now it was always guarded.

“Ten men, and guards posted every ten feet along the tunnel,” the lieutenant confirmed. “As ordered.”

Shahin nodded, mystified, but satisfied that Khepesh was not under attack. “Good. Keep the outer guard on full alert and the inside guard doubled, but the others can stand down for now. And see that today's victors are well rewarded for their efforts. I'll be with the high priest.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Shahin made his way to the audience chamber where he found Seth pacing back and forth, awaiting word from him. After his report, Seth was equally suspicious, but neither could come up with an explanation for Haru-Re's actions.

“I'm still uneasy about this,” Shahin said. “I want to find Josslyn Haliday and fetch her here to Khepesh immediately.” Could Haru-Re have somehow found out about Josslyn and the diversion was aimed at capturing her, and not Nephtys?

Seth nodded somberly. “I only hope you're not too late. One can't help but think the timing is too close to be a coincidence.”

Shahin looked down at himself, still covered with the filth of battle. “With your permission I'll clean up first, then take Gemma and go.”

Seth waved his hand to urge him away. “Make haste. Send word the minute you have her.”

“I will.”

Assuming Haru-Re hadn't found her first.

 

Where
was
the man?

Gemma had awoken to an empty bed and an empty apartment. Shahin had
promised
to be there when she awoke. But once again, she'd reached for him and he'd been gone.

Seth had also been gone. That, however, was a relief. The things he'd seen her and Shahin do in bed last night, she didn't think she could ever look the demigod in the eye again. Or herself in the mirror, for that matter. Every time she spotted the neat white bandage on her neck, she nearly died of mortification. She'd let herself be bitten by a vampire! And sweet mercy, how she and Shahin had enjoyed it…

Gemma's mind was in chaos. Between his being gone, the vampire bite on her neck and that weird dream last night when Gillian had come to her with news of their parents being alive in Petru, she was totally freaked out.

Even more so when she found the parchment scroll lying on the bed. Good God, it
hadn't
been a
dream? Gillian had actually been there! The dream-spell parchment she'd left Gemma to give to Nephtys was proof! If
that
was real, it meant the part about her parents must also be real.

Her mother and father were alive! At Petru. And Gillian wanted her to leave Khepesh to be with them.

Gemma was so confused. She needed to talk to Shahin about this. Or at least to Nephtys.

But the guards at the apartment door would not let her leave. It didn't matter that she only wanted to visit the priestess. They had their orders directly from their captain and they would not disobey.

When she asked in frustration about Shahin, where he was, their gazes slid away almost guiltily and they refused to tell her. Why? Was
he
in some kind of danger?

Of course he was. He was a warrior, captain of the palace guard. His whole life was about danger.

God save him.

And her.

So when he finally strode through the door, she jumped up and launched herself into his arms. “Thank God! Oh, Shahin, where have you been? What's going on? I've been so worried!” Her anxious words poured out in a flood until his surprise finally turned to laughter and he hugged and kissed her to shut her up.

“I'm fine,” he said as she covered his gritty face in kisses. “But filthy. Help me get undressed. I need a shower.”

She banked her eagerness to talk and gladly obliged. She joined him under the water. “I missed you,” she murmured. Holding him in her arms, she realized how true it was. She'd missed him terribly from the second she'd awakened to find him gone. How could she ever think about going to Petru without him?

After he washed, they made love under the cascading water. It felt different than it had before. Closer, somehow. Shahin felt more vulnerable. More emotional. And a bit more desperate.

“What is it, Shahin?” she asked when they were melting in each other's arms, wrapped in the afterglow of their lovemaking.

Water ran down their bodies in warm rivulets as his silence stretched, broken only by the hiss and patter of the spray. Spice-scented steam swirled about them, turning the glass stall into a private cocoon.

Shahin pushed out a breath and tightened his embrace. At length he said, “Nothing. I'm just so damn glad to be here with you. I don't ever want to move from this place.”

She gazed up at him, the worry beginning to
trickle back. “Did something happen while you were out?”

He shook his head. She wasn't convinced. But she was outright shocked when he began, “Gemma, last night you said you love me. Was that—”

But he never got to complete the question. It was drowned out by a sudden frantic pounding on the apartment door.

“My lord!” someone yelled. “Sheikh Shahin! You're needed immediately! The lady Nephtys. She's been taken captive!”

 

Gemma hurried down the main palace corridor after Shahin, a clutch of guards close at their heels. He'd given orders they weren't to leave her sight. They were all headed for the council chamber, where Seth-Aziz awaited.

She didn't know what was going on and was frightened out of her wits. How could the priestess have been snatched out from the hidden depths of an underground palace? It didn't seem possible.

Shahin apparently shared her opinion. That was the first question he asked of Seth when they swept into the chamber.

The high priest sat at the end of a long obsidian conference table, leaning on his elbows, his head in his hands, obviously in distress.

When they entered, he looked up. “She's surrendered to him, Shahin! Nephtys has sacrificed
herself to that bastard!” He rose to his feet, fists pounding the table.

Gemma shrank back against the stone wall of the chamber, trying to make herself as small as possible against the demigod's rage. Her guards hung back in the doorway.

Shahin's stopped in his tracks, obviously shocked. “Why in the name of Osiris would she do that?”

Seth pushed a parchment note across the table. “Read for yourself!” he thundered.

Shahin scanned the parchment, then glanced at Gemma with a scowl and back to Seth. “She
traded
herself for Josslyn?” he said in visible disbelief.

Gemma jumped to attention.
What?

Seth drilled his fingers into his hair. “It's over, Shahin! My own sister has doomed Khepesh to extinction!”

But what about
her
sister?

“That's not necessarily true,” Shahin said to Seth, trying to calm the high priest's agitation. He swiped a hand over his lower face, rubbing his jaw. “If Lady Nephtys did this, she must have good reason. And a plan. She loves you, Seth, and Khepesh as well. She would never put us in danger. She'd rather die than betray you. You know that.”

Seth's eyes squeezed shut. “Until ten minutes ago, I would have staked my life on that being true.” He
opened them again and jetted out a breath. “Now it appears I
have
staked my life upon it.”