Anubis

by Erik Schubach

  Anubis: Death's Mistress

  By

  Erik Schubach

  Copyright © 2019 by Erik Schubach

  Published by Erik Schubach on Smashwords.

  P.O. Box 523

  Nine Mile Falls, WA 99026

  Cover Photo © 2019 Creatista / DepositPhotos.com license

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains fmaterial protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher, except by a reviewer who wishes to quote brief passages in connection with a review written for inclusion in a magazine, newspaper, blog, or broadcast.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  FIRST EDITION

  ISBN 978-0-4639666-8-6

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1 – Dreams

  Chapter 2 – The Temple of Anubis

  Chapter 3 – Lazarus

  Chapter 4 – Serial Killer

  Chapter 5 – Vassals

  Chapter 6 – Revelations

  Chapter 7 – Raid

  Chapter 8 – Snakes

  Chapter 9 – Healing

  Chapter 10 – Snake Maiden

  Chapter 11 – Stephanie

  Chapter 12 – Dangled Like Bait

  Chapter 13 – Camp Alpha

  Chapter 14 – Sandstorm

  Epilogue

  Chapter 1 – Dreams

  She moved like a roiling mist over the glassy surface of a still pond. With the grace of a predator long forgotten, she lowered her sleek jackal's head to his ear to whisper his name, his true name, known only to the long dead gods. Like a memory called forward by the sound, power swirled over the man, cocooning him in an embrace like some long lost lover. It appeared as though somewhere deep inside his mind, a bell pealed, calling forth a primal terror within him, but it was too late, he was dead before his empty husk hit the stone floor.

  Her eyes flicked toward me like she was aware of my own eyes upon her, then she cocked her head as she studied me. I tried to backpedal as she smiled, showing sharp canines to me as she approached, but I couldn't move, feeling frozen in place as she stepped up to me and leaned in with fluid grace to place her muzzle next to my ear. Sheer terror and panic rose in me as she started to whisper...

  “Wake up Aya.”

  I abruptly awoke in the tent, screaming. I looked around, my fear driving me, but that beautiful jackal woman was nowhere to be seen in the darkness of the heavy canvas structure as I scrambled back on my cot. I switched on the battery powered lamp as I pulled my knees up to my chest, wrapping my arms around my legs.

  I was covered in a cold sweat, and was shaking as I got my bearings, whispering to myself in reprimand, “It was just another dream, get ahold of yourself, Aya.” One of my hands drifted to my pillow feeling the reassuring outline of what lay beneath it.

  I heard men shouting in a mix of English and Arabic, flashlight beams lighting up the tent from the outside as men came running to my tent at the archaeological dig, an hour outside of Cairo. “Professor Bane? Are you alright?” “!tueal bsret, al'ustadh fi khtr”

  I called out as the flap of the tent was pulled aside by my guide, Rafa, as he stuck his head in, a wicked curved knife in one hand, “Professor Bane, are you alright?” I really liked the young man's accent, a heavy mix of Arabic and British English as he had studied in London.

  The tall, lanky man was pushed aside as Professor Harmon stepped in, a rock in his hand, sputtering “Aya... you were screaming.”

  I tried not to smile, of course, that would be the only weapon the old, scatterbrained man had. What else would an archeologist pick for a weapon? Well besides the Walther PPQ-M2 under my pillow, since some of us know you can only do so much with a rock. And yes, I have a permit for it here in Egypt.

  I got my breathing under control, and my panic was replaced with a healthy dose of embarrassment as my cheeks warmed. I held up a halting hand as the men stepped in and a couple of the workers stuck their heads in, gripping heavy six-foot steel pry bars in their hands like they were ready to strike whatever danger had cropped up. “I'm fine. I'm sorry everyone, it was just another bad dream.” Then added when nobody moved, “Really, I'm fine.”

  The savage looks on everyone's faces went slack, and the workers pulled back out, grumbling. I'm pretty sure one of them muttered, “Crazy woman,” in Arabic before they called to the others to go back to sleep. Lord, had I woken the whole camp? Now I was doubly embarrassed.

  Rafa said as he tucked his knife in his waistband behind his back, “That's the third night in a row, Professor...”

  I interrupted, “Aya.”

  He inclined his head in acceptance. “Aya. I feel I should say something like, 'it is the curse of Anubis,' and run away into the night, waving my hands in the air. Isn't that how it goes in your American mummy movies?” The smirk on the man's face was priceless. And doubly so when Professor Harmon's face screwed up in confusion, god I loved the dense old man. I wondered when he last visited a movie theater, like my dad had been, the kindly Professor was stuck in the past.

  I defended, “Ok, smart ass. Not everyone believes those stereotypes. And if any of the workers here were that naive, they shouldn't be at the dig anyway.”

  The professor looked at the young man excusing him. “Thank you, Rafa.”

  The young man pointed at me and teased, “It's all those spices you put on your koshari all the time.”

  I rolled my eyes and countered, “It needs something to spice it up. Some of us have actual taste buds you know.”

  He shook his head and said as he pulled the tent flap aside to leave, “It is spiced. Not everyone wants to feel like they are boiling in lava when they eat. I'm surprised your stomach lining is still intact.”

  “Wimp.”

  His chuckle receded as he headed back to the long worker's tent in the dark of the night.

  I looked at my dad's old friend, and the man gave me a look a patient man would his grandchild. I scrunched my head to my shoulders and squinted one eye and almost asked, “Sorry?”

  He sighed and chuckled out as he shook his head, “It's the overactive imagination of youth. Since you've verified for us that this really is a temple to Anubis, the excitement of it all is what's influencing your dreams.” Then he cocked an eyebrow half in question, half in challenge.

  I sighed heavily and nodded, then looked over to the little table which had the three small stone idols, about the size of a fist, which I have been dusting and preparing to be shipped to the Cairo University Antiquities Department so I could examine them more thoroughly. I confirmed, “It was that same lady Anubis again. This time she killed three men.”

  I inhaled deeply then asked, “Albert, is there anything in the records that suggests Anubis being able to kill by uttering someone's name?” I had to have heard it somewhere for it to be so vivid in my dreams. I could usually pull up obscure references on demand from the mountains of texts and translations I have read on the subject, but this one eluded me.

  He chuckled and placed a hand on my head to stroke my hair as I laid back down on my cot. “I thought you were the expert on Egyptian Gods. Isn't that why I called you in for a consult?” He winked.

  I squished my lips to one side, then ran a hand through my long black hair that was getting matted again. The days were hot and the nights didn't dip below the upper seventies this time of y
ear. I wish it was winter then at least I wouldn't be constantly sweating. I really needed to just cut the bulk of the tangled mass off if this dig looked like it was going to keep me here in Egypt much longer.

  Smiling at the man I asked, “What were you planning on doing with that thing?” I indicated with my chin, the rock he had come in with to defend me.

  He saw the humor in my eyes, and he smiled at the rock as he picked it back up and said, “It was handy. Not all of us think we're that Illinois Jackson person just because we're archeologists, Aya.”

  I grinned at his attempt to get a rise out of me. “It's Indiana Jones, and you know it, Albert.” I knew he didn't approve of my gun, but dad always taught me to protect myself. I'm no damsel, no matter what the men in the camp thought.

  He smiled and then turned toward the tent flap, shaking his head as he almost chuckled out, “Goodnight. See you in the morning.”

  “G'night.”

  I turned off the little lamp and then tried to close my eyes. I knew he was right. What with all the sightings of beings who defied explanation the past couple years popping up all around the globe. It made my particular branch of archaeology that much more exciting. I mean, if these women of extraordinary abilities really exist, then it wasn't that far a leap to postulate that the Egyptian gods could possibly have been real too.

  I mean, one woman in the Pacific Northwest had called forth the storm of the millennium like the sea witches in the old fables. Not even the U.S. military dropping bombs on her did any good. And there are the sightings of winged women all around the world or half bear women in Russia. So who is to say that bird or jackal-headed beings hadn't been around in ancient Egyptian times?

  After a few minutes of listening to the crickets and winged insects flying around outside, I drifted off into sleep. When I found myself lying in my cot in the middle of the temple we were excavating, only it was in pristine condition, I calmed myself. There was nothing but blackness beyond the columns, yet I could see clearly inside of it with no lights or torches to cast illumination.

  I saw two shadowed figures talking by the dais, One a head taller than the other who moved with a grace which befitted the femininity of her form. She turned her Jackal's head toward me, and her eyes blazed in the darkness beyond. She smiled, showing those sharp fangs and teeth, then the larger of the two said something to her, she bowed, and I saw a hugely muscled and sculpted man with a Jackal's head step back into the darkness, his eyes trained on me like a predator would prey.

  She held a finger to her lips as she swayed her way up to me. I could see it was no mask, the skin of her neck bled to the satin black of the obsidian canine head. It almost looked like living pottery as her skin was smooth, with no fur like you would expect. And for some reason, this time I was not afraid as she loomed above me and turned around, crossing her arms as if she were there to guard me in my sleep. I heard her say, though her lips never moved, “Sleep now, Aya,” and I closed my eyes in my dream and drifted off again.

  Chapter 2 – The Temple of Anubis

  The sound of the breakfast triangle ringing out woke me with a start. I blinked the bright light out of my eyes and realized it was the sun. I leapt to my feet and spun around, getting my bearings. I was in the middle of the half-excavated temple. A ring of black scorpions had formed a circle around where I had been sleeping on the sand, all scurried off to find hiding spots, making clicking sounds as their chitin segments rubbed upon each other as they moved.

  I swallowed. It was as if they had formed a protective ring around where I had been sleeping. How did I get out here? I shuddered as I saw the tail of one of the last scorpions shimmy as it slid into a crack in one of the stacked stone columns. I turned toward the ladders to get out of there and back to the camp, just a hundred yards west, to see an unusually large scorpion on a chunk of rubble. It was as if it was watching me.

  Moving slowly, with one eye on it, I hesitated as it backed off as I moved past. I blinked then reached a hand out, and it retreated some more. I moved away, and it moved forward, keeping that same distance of about five yards from me. Ok, I was officially freaking out as my breathing started increasing as my heart thumped heavily against my ribs.

  It stopped following me the moment I got out of the pit and moved beyond the boundary of the temple. I had to have been imagining it all. I muttered to myself, “Just great, the heat has finally broken me,” as I started toward the tents, looking down at my bare feet.

  I watched the bustle of people in the camp as I approached. It wasn't a large crew, as the find was designated less important than any finds relating to the pharaohs or burial tombs. Temples to the various ancient Egyptian gods are plentiful, especially the well-known gods like Anubis, Ra, Hathor, and Horus.

  We had a total of ten people working on this excavation with occasional help from Cairo University when students of archeology need field experience. I had been in the States when I got a call from my father's old mentor, Professor Albert Harmon. That was a blast from the past. I hadn't heard from the man in five years... since my father died.

  I always saw him as an absent-minded uncle who would look for his glasses for twenty minutes before realizing he was wearing them. That was the sort of fellow he was.

  He had found something of interest on one of his digs in Egypt, just outside of Cairo, and had needed a consult from the leading expert in Egyptology. I was more than happy to fly out. It had been a couple years since I had been in the field. Though the warning my mother had always given me before she was taken from us by a hit and run driver when I was eleven, was always there when I got a chance to return to Egypt. “Aya, I know the pull will get stronger as you grow older, but you must promise me that you will never go to Masr. We must let the line stay broken, lest our children suffer our fate.”

  She always referred to Egypt as Masr, like the locals. She never did explain why she feared it so much, what happened there to make her flee to the United States with the American archaeologist she saw as, “Silly, but charming.” Yeah, that described dad in no uncertain terms. She would always say it lovingly, radiating her love for the man.

  I often wondered if she had been waiting for me to grow up before she shared her fears with me. We never got the chance. And I've been obsessed with Egypt ever since. I feel so drawn to it, bordering on obsession. Learning everything I can about where she was born, to try to understand why she was so afraid. Father had to know, but he never spoke of it. I could tell it was one of the promises he had made to her, and he was a man of his word to the end.

  When I arrived three weeks ago, I was excited to see why Albert had called for me. This was no ordinary temple. It was arranged in the manner of a small palace as if it were a residence for the God Anpu... Anubis. Like they had expected him to actually manifest and live amongst them. It even included sleeping and feasting areas. This was a departure from the usual temples which worshiped the gods, and was unique. Nothing like this has ever been unearthed, indicating anything like this, with any of the other gods.

  I've been trying to piece together the hieroglyphs on the walls and carved into the shattered columns. And trying to put the idols found there into context, the inscriptions carved into their bases didn't conform to the standard logographic, syllabic, and alphabetic elements of hieroglyphs.

  Nobody found the Professor's findings particularly intriguing except me it seems, as not much effort has been put forth to assist in the excavation. There was so much being discovered on an almost daily basis here, that something as minor as this wasn't as exciting as other finds. To me, it was the most exciting find I have heard of in my lifetime. Just how lame was I anyway?

  The dig was sponsored by a grant from the Boston University Archaeology Department. And I'm sure the Professor had convinced Cairo University to match the funds. He had a knack for locating obscure finds like this temple.

  I sighed, realizing I was just trying to keep my mind off the fact I had just woken up in the
ruins instead of my tent. After just having a nightmare earlier. I was sleepwalking now? I stepped on a small stone and hopped a bit as I winced in pain. And in my bare feet.

  I was unfortunately aware that I was in the sports bra and shorts I wore at night in an attempt to cool down as I slept in my cot. Again I longed for the winter here in Cairo where the nights were actually cool enough you'd need a blanket at night.

  So now, all eyes at the improvised tables were looking at me as they ate breakfast. As I marched past in my bare feet, wearing barely more than my unmentionables, I refused to die of embarrassment. In defiance, marched right up to Cook, and grabbed one of the metal plates and had him dish me up.

  Albert cocked an eyebrow at me, and I shot him my best glare, the one mother would give me whenever I was about to say something stupid. He shut his mouth, and I marched with purpose to my little tent which was set aside from the larger ones. I don't know what everyone's hangup was, that I not sleep in the same two tents as everyone else, but I was thankful for it just then.

  I heard that same worker from last night repeat in Arabic, “Crazy woman.” I wondered when I would let the man know I was fluent in Arabic, French, and Spanish, besides English with a little Japanese and Chinese thrown in. Language comes easily to me, almost too easily, which is why I am so good at interpreting hieroglyphs among other things. Lord, I was a born geek, wasn't I? My lack of a dating life is no wonder when I put it into context.

  I glanced back to give the man the stink eye and got a slight bit of vertigo as I looked at him. I swallowed hard, part of me just knowing he was a wicked man, and then ducked into my tent. What was that?

  I set the plate of food down on the small crate I used as a table and then flopped onto my cot and finally allowed my embarrassment to burn on my cheeks. I'd forego the hanging camp shower today since I was heading into Cairo, I'd shower at the university. One of the perks of being a visiting professor and adjunct.