The Blood of Kings

by John Michael Curlovich

  “What time?”

  “Around seven.”

  “Well, maybe I’ll see you there, okay?”

  He left. I found myself alone in an enormous room filled with strange things, statues of men with the heads of birds, pieces of fantastic jewelry, ancient scrolls covered with hieroglyphics, even mummified cats and birds. A framed papyrus depicted a beautiful woman with her arms outstretched; they were wings. The caption identified her as Maat, the Goddess of Truth.

  There wasn’t much light, and I couldn’t see a switch for the overheads, so I checked it all out in the half-light. Somehow it seemed appropriate. The room was cool as it was dark, almost chilly. I wanted to be out looking for Tim; but something held me there, and I didn’t know what.

  There was a mummy on display in a glass case. I inspected it, got as close as I could. The eyes were closed, the lips drawn back, exposing the teeth, which were rotten. The bandages were dirty and frayed. There was a layer of dust on the glass and I brushed it off with my hand. The card said his name was Sekhem-wa-Set.

  “He died 3,200 years ago. He was your age.”

  The voice startled me and I jumped. A man was standing in the shadows a few feet behind me. He stepped closer. I could see that he was quite striking, tall, handsome, in almost a movie star kind of way. His eyes were the deepest green I had ever seen, they showed brightly even in the dim light, and his hair was jet black. His lips were startlingly full and sensual. Pale skin, high cheekbones, he might almost have been an older relative of Tim. He was wearing jeans, sneakers and a plaid shirt.

  “I thought you heard me come in. Sorry to have startled you.” He smiled.

  “I’m okay.”

  “I’m Professor Semenkaru. I curate the collection here.” He spoke with a slight accent, I wasn’t quite sure what kind. He took a step toward me. He was lean and graceful, almost catlike when he moved. Even through his loose clothes I could tell how muscular his body was. I decided he must have been an athlete when he was younger, maybe a gymnast. Maybe he still was. He was about 40 or so, I thought.

  “I’m Jamie Dunn.”

  “Freshman?” He smiled and opened a panel in the wall to turn the lights on. Soft atmospheric lighting bathed everything, including us. He was even more handsome than I had first thought.

  I was a bit abashed. “Yes.” I had never felt an attraction to an older man before, I had never thought it was quite right, but…

  “I don’t suppose you’re actually interested in Egyptology? The department needs students.”

  “I’m a music major. Piano.”

  “I’d like to hear you play sometime.” I didn’t want to let myself be flattered; it was only polite conversation.

  “I’m not really good enough to play in public yet. I mean, student recitals, sure, but… ”

  “You will be.” He smiled again. “Do you know anything at all about ancient Egypt?”

  “Only what I’ve seen in The Ten Commandments.” I fluttered my eyelashes and did my best Anne Baxter impression. “‘Oh, Moses, you stubborn, splendid, adorable fool!’”

  Semenkaru laughed. “My colleagues would be scandalized to hear me say it, but I’ve always loved that film. Have you ever noticed how the Egyptian villains stay young and beautiful while the heroes all age pretty horribly?”

  It had never occurred to me, but he was right.

  “Why don’t you let me show you around for a few minutes? If you have the time, I mean.”

  His eyes were so green, his skin so pale, lips so full. I could eat anytime; Justin and our teammates could do without me. “I’d like that, yes.”

  And so I got a private tour. Sekhem-wa-Set, he told me, had been eighteen or 19 when he died, “The same age as Tutankamun; he had had crippling arthritis and walked with a limp.” Then he taught me a bit about hieroglyphs, a bit about the ways the Egyptians carved their statues out of the hardest rock known, and a bit more about a lot of other things. Somewhat to my surprise I found it fascinating.

  We stopped in front of the most impressive statue in the place, nearly twice life size. Like most of the others it was of a man, dressed only in a kilt, standing with his right foot forward. He was holding a spear or a scepter of some kind. And he had the head of a bird, a falcon. The stone was black, polished. Despite myself I found myself studying the lines of the body. It was beautiful, lean, muscular, perfect. Like the professor’s, I thought.

  “This is the Great God Horus. The divine embodiment of the pharaoh. His spirit flowed in the king’s veins. It’s carved from quartzite, one of the hardest stones known. But look at it. See the way they made the unyielding stone almost alive, almost sensual.”

  It was beautiful. I said so.

  “Everyone always says the art of the Egyptians was so stiff and formal, but look at what they’ve accomplished here. There’s real passion in this work. Look at the muscles in his legs. See the contours of his chest—you can almost see it rise and fall. You can almost feel the beating of his heart.”

  He took my hand, quite gently so I did not resist, and placed it flat on the statue’s chest, just where the heart would be in a living man. It was warm. The stone should have been cool, like the air in the room, but it was warmer than my hand. There might almost have been blood flowing in it.

  I looked at Semenkaru and saw that he was watching me, gazing at me as if he’d been looking for me for a long time and didn’t know what to make of me now that he’d found me. I let him hold my hand for a long moment before I pulled away.

  “How is that possible?”

  “I don’t know what you mean, Jamie.”

  “That warmth. The stone should be cool, room temperature or cooler.”

  “I don’t know how to account for it.” He shrugged then smiled again. “Some things are warm, some aren’t.”

  I found myself feeling suddenly uncomfortable. “I have to be going, Professor.”

  “My students call me Danilo.”

  “Danilo, then. Thank you for the tour.”

  “Perhaps when you play your first recital you’ll invite me.”

  “I will.”

  “My guess is, you play with the deepest passion.”

  I turned to go.

  “You hear the music, Jamie.” I turned back and he was watching me quite pointedly. “The music all around us, that most people never know. You hear it and understand it.”

  When I left he was smiling. There was not much doubt in my mind what he had been trying to tell me. And I wanted him, too. But it seemed so… so… I didn’t want to think about it.

  * * *

  There was a reception at the music department at 7:30 p.m. I decided I’d eat there. I met several other students and several teachers. One of the boys, maybe a year or two older than me, was wearing a rainbow pin. I stayed carefully away from him. Ebensburg High had taught me better than to be that open. Roland McTavish, who was to be my private piano instructor, wasn’t there. I had met him before, anyway. Three string players approached me and asked if I’d like to from a piano quartet with them. I had never played in an ensemble and didn’t much like the idea. The food wasn’t much more than heavy snacks, but I ate enough to fill me up.

  Then I headed to the library and sifted through back issues of the local newspapers. I wanted to know more about the murders. It took a while to find the stories. Young men, found naked and cut open from throat to abdomen. Their eyes were gone, and they had been mutilated sexually. A number of other men were missing, quite a few more than had been found. Just the news I needed, my first day.

  * * *

  It was after nine when I got back to the dorm; Norm was out someplace. Chasing “chicks”? I felt sorry for whichever one he had in his sights.

  Feeling restless I decided to head for the sports building. What with packing, moving and bracing myself for a new life, I hadn’t worked out for a couple of weeks. I stuffed some gear and a Speedo into a gym bag and went out again.

  It was after sunset, and the air was getting
cool. The streets were brightly lit and crowded with students. It was easy to tell which were the freshmen; I hoped I wasn’t that obvious, but I knew I probably was. Traffic was heavy, stores were lit up. Gosh, Toto, I don’t think we’re in Ebensburg any more.

  The sports building was ablaze with light. Everyone seemed to want to start getting in shape as soon as possible. The weight room was full, the indoor running track crowded, the basketball court a blur of action, the gymnastics equipment all in use. Everyone was there except the one I wanted to see.

  Justin Hollis was there. I watched him practice a few dives. He was good.

  “Jamie! You didn’t meet us for dinner.”

  “Sorry. I got tied up with something. And I had to go to a reception at the Music Department.”

  “You’re a musician?”

  “Yep. Piano.”

  He smiled. “An intellectual. Most of us major in sports medicine and stuff. It’s easier to stay on the team if your coach is the one giving you your grades.”

  “But doesn’t that mean they have more control over you?” This seemed to be a new thought for him. “Anyway, playing’s a compulsion for me, like swimming.”

  “I know what you mean. I want to get back up on that platform, okay? But let’s get together, though. For sure. I want you to meet Grant.”

  Grant had to be the gymnast he had been with that afternoon, the redhead. “We will.”

  He smiled again and headed up the ladder. I decided I liked him. He seemed to know me better than I would have liked, better than I felt quite comfortable with. I tried so hard to be neutral with people, but… wanting me to meet his boyfriend. I watched him. He was beautiful, so graceful in the air. Lucky Grant. But then I was making assumptions, or so I told myself. They might have been friends or brothers, for that matter.

  I watched the divers for another minute or two. And for the first time I had doubts about college. This was so unlike the atmosphere I was used to. It would take me a while to learn to decipher all the signals. Rather than think about it, I decided to change and get wet.

  And then…

  There in the locker room I saw him. He was toweling off after a shower. I didn’t even have to see his face; I knew his shoulders, I knew the line of his legs. Nervous, terrified, I approached him.

  “Tim.”

  He turned slowly. He had recognized me from my voice, before he even saw me. I could tell by his body language. For the life of me I couldn’t read the expression on his face. “Jamie.”

  I was Jell-O. “Hi, Tim.”

  He paused for a moment, as if he was trying to decide how to react. Then he smiled. There were fireworks in it, or in me. “Jamie! It’s great to see you!”

  Ebensburg was past. “I was hoping I’d find you.”

  “Well you did, and I’m glad.” He toweled his hair.

  Awkward silence. I groped for words. “How have you been?”

  “I’ve been great, I guess. I just came back from the Olympic trials.”

  “Did you make it?”

  He laughed. “Hell, no. I was more than three seconds off. But I gave a decent enough showing, I guess.”

  “I wish you had.”

  “I can live without the pressure. It’s bad enough around here. Have you met Coach Zielinski yet?”

  “On one of my campus visits. Is he rough?”

  “Worse than Harrison. Is he dead yet?”

  Despite myself I laughed. I had never found anything funny about him before. “No, people like that never seem to die.”

  “You said it.”

  Tim was naked. It took all my willpower not to look him up and down. For all I knew he had a boyfriend. Or worse, yet another girlfriend. It was an awful thought. I made myself smile. “Well, I’m going to change and get a few laps in.”

  “You sure? Why don’t we get a burger and catch up?”

  “Oh, I ate at the—” I caught myself. But I didn’t want to seem too eager. “I really need to limber up.”

  “Do it tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow morning I have to go to the orientation for new jocks. Then Coach Zielinski’s going to meet with the new swimmers.”

  “Talk. They all like to talk so much. Come on.”

  “Well… okay, I guess. I’ll meet you outside.”

  It wouldn’t take him long to get dressed. I hung around just outside the locker room. Idling the time I noticed a flyer on the wall.

  There was a photo of a young man with the name Josh Mariatta underneath. He was a diver and he was missing. Anyone who knew anything about him was to call the campus police.

  Tim came out. I pointed at the flyer. “Do you know him?”

  “I’ve seen him around.”

  “What could have happened to him?”

  “Who knows?”

  Ten minutes later we were at the Z, eating greasy burgers and greasier fries. I’d have to do extra laps to work them off. Music blared, students shouted, the staff shouted even louder. Everyone seemed to be having fun. As for me… I was with Tim again. I was nervous as hell, terrified. We had not touched, not even to shake hands.

  “You want some mustard, Jamie?” I had forgotten how he liked to soak his food in it.

  “No, I’m cool.”

  “I hate this place.”

  “Then why’d you bring me here?”

  “Rite of passage for a freshman.” Was he laughing at me? “There’s a nice quiet sandwich shop a few blocks away from my place. That’s where I usually eat.”

  “You’re not in the dorms?”

  “Be serious. I’ve got an apartment in Shadyside. Two bedroom—I share it with one of the seniors on the team. Scott Trask. Have you met him?”

  I shook my head. Just roommates? I was terrified to ask.

  He guessed what I was thinking. “Just roommates.” He said it firmly. “Friends, but nothing more. A lot of the guys on the team… ” He left the thought unfinished, but of course I knew what he meant. “But not me.”

  I had to ask. “A lot of them?”

  “Well, some. More than you’d think.”

  A guy carrying a tray of beer stumbled and spilled it; it missed us by inches.

  Tim looked faintly disgusted. “Let’s eat up and get out of here.”

  As we were leaving a blonde girl came over and kissed Tim on the cheek. He introduced us. Her name was Rachel. “Jamie’s an old friend from home. He’s on the team here now.”

  She nodded at me, but she seemed to have no time for small talk. “Have you heard anything about Josh?”

  He shook his head. “Nobody’s seen or heard a thing.”

  “Let me know, okay? I’m so scared.”

  They kissed again and she rejoined her other friends.

  “She and Josh were seeing each other.”

  “Oh.”

  “I don’t know how serious it was. Like I said, I didn’t know him that well. I saw him at a few parties, but—” He spread his hands in a what-can-I-do? gesture.

  The night was getting cooler; I wished I had worn a sweatshirt. The sky was a deep transparent blue and a nearly full moon shone down over the campus buildings. It was perfect for urban romance. Part of me wished I had been able to stop loving Tim. He was being so careful with me.

  I decided to take the plunge. “You never came to my recital.”

  “Oh.” He was embarrassed. Good. “I got, you know, hung up with so many things. Finals. You know how hard I have to study for tests.”

  “I was hurt.”

  “I’m sorry, Jamie.”

  “I was playing for you.”

  “You shouldn’t have. We were miles apart then. And things between us had… ” He sounded a bit helpless.

  Every fourth or fifth telephone pole we passed had another of those flyers about Josh Mariatta. Some were about other missing guys. They seemed to be everywhere, and I was surprised I hadn’t noticed them before. But there had been so much else to take in. “What’s this all about? Does anybody know what’s happening to them, Tim?�
��

  “Here, let’s walk this way. There’s a park across that bridge. We can talk better there.”

  We crossed the bridge. There was nothing but darkness underneath; the ravine it spanned could have been a mile deep.

  “It’s called Panther Hollow.”

  I didn’t much care. “About Josh… ?”

  We reached the park. There was grass, there were flowers and trees, all ghostly in the moonlight. Across the road from us there was an elaborate old Victorian greenhouse. The stars were brilliant. We sat down on the grass.

  “Over the last year seven guys have been found mutilated. Five jocks, a cellist in the school orchestra and some guy from Fine Arts. They were all cut open. Some of their organs were gone, their eyes, their cocks… The others, the ones who disappeared… ” He let the sentence go unfinished.

  “Did you know any of them?”

  “Not really, not very well. Just to see, you know. But the thing is, only the ones that have been found have been reported on. The ones who are missing… I’m not sure anyone knows how many more there might be. I mean, you hear rumors, but… Some of the ones who disappeared turned up months later, cut like the other ones. The university doesn’t want it talked about, so nobody really knows how many are gone. And I guess nobody really knows if the missing ones aren’t just… missing.”

  “What’s your guess? What’s happening here?”

  He looked right at me and said, “I think there’s some kind of sick psycho faggot loose here. It’s what everybody thinks, but nobody’s saying it.”

  I wasn’t sure how to react. This wasn’t what I wanted to hear.

  “When I saw you just now, the first thing I thought was, God no, Jamie shouldn’t have come here. Because of all this, I mean.”

  I looked at him, wondering what, precisely, he meant. He was staring up at the moon. “Well, I guess you’re stuck with me, Tim.”

  “Good. What I meant to say was, that was only my first thought. Now that we’re back together—”

  “Are we back together?”

  He touched my hand. I felt it all through my body.

  “So when I give my first student recital… ?”