by Sabrina York
“About you and your sacrifices, and the fact you have zero personal life. I think you need a love life.”
Katharine laughed and plopped down in the chair. The cold veggie wrap stuck to the paper as she peeled it away, and she picked at the soft bread, annoyed. “That is hilarious! And, assuming I actually had someone to go out with, when would I find time to go on said date? I can barely find time to clean my townhouse.” She took a bite of her food. A date, ha!
Missy smirked. “How long have we known each other?”
“Um. I assume that’s rhetorical. But for fun, well, since my last year of school. So, about six years.”
“And when’s the last time you had a boyfriend?” She slammed her water bottle on the table.
“Well, I had coffee with that researcher from Cornell last fall….”
“That wasn’t a date, and he wasn’t a boyfriend. He wanted a donation.”
“Um, well, I guess it would be Bill, then. You remember, the college jerk. Mr. Wrong in all the right ways.” Stuffing another bite into her mouth, Katharine mumbled, “Does he count?”
Missy groaned. “Seriously?”
“Seriously does he count? Or seriously is he the last guy I dated?” Katharine smiled. Got her.
“You’re impossible!”
“Thanks. I try.” She popped the last of the wrap into her mouth and balled up the paper.
“Hold on. You aren’t leaving yet. I have a surprise for you.”
“Unless you’ve found more time you can give me….”
“I was going to tell you at dinner—but since you decided to wolf down a five minute meal here at the clinic, I guess I’ll have to tell you now. Kind of appropriate, given the circumstances.”
“It’s not my birthday.” Missy was uptight. Nervous. What’s up with her? “Spill!”
“Well, like I said, I’ve been thinking you need a date….”
“And you have a cousin in town?”
She laughed. “No, no, it isn’t that simple.”
Katharine’s hands went cold. No way. “I’m not going on a blind date.”
“Before you say no, listen to me a minute—”
“No way. Absolutely not.” She yanked the ponytail holder out of her hair and shook the long strands loose. “Now, I am going to get out of my scrubs and shower. I have paperwork to do.”
“Listen to me. This isn’t what you’re thinking. You’re lonely. It’s one night together, that’s all.” Missy grinned. “And I’ve already set it up.”
“You got me a prostitute? Is this some kind of joke?” Her heart fluttered, as adrenaline poured through her.
“No. It’s Madame Eve’s 1Night Stand. My sister’s friend used the service after her divorce. Found her soul mate.”
Katharine blinked and watched her for any sign she was joking. Missy stared back at her, swirling her water bottle.
“Anyway, they faxed over a receipt and some more information. I put the papers on your desk. Speaking of food, I’ve got to go—I’m starving and I need to be back here early. Have fun! And read the fax.”
“You’re crazy. Certifiable.”
“And you’re a veterinarian, not a psychiatrist. Think about it, okay? No commitment. Consider it.”
“I appreciate your concern, but there’s no way in hell I’m having a one-night stand.”
“Get your paperwork done. And please don’t let me come in here tomorrow morning and find you still here.”
Chapter Two
The king’s sarcophagus lay on a large carved stone in the center of the torch-lit chamber. Seti paced across the compacted dirt, the oily smoke from the flames trailing behind him in a whirlwind of memory. Musky incense swirled over mounds of beaded offerings to the gods. He fell onto his knees, trembling. The lone melody of a cane ney flute snaked down into the tomb, the musician somewhere outside, with most of the mourners.
“Father,” he whispered. No tears came. He fingered the painted hieroglyphs lining the edges of the wooden likeness of his sire. The markings told stories of the king’s honored past. The wars. The blood. The lives cut short and the many children. Many brothers.
“And I am firstborn. Why?” He pressed his sandaled toe against the earthen floor and balled his hands into fists. Shaking, he stormed over to the servants who knelt by the vizier at the tomb’s entrance. “Leave!”
The servants, half-bowing, scampered through the low doorway. Seti shook his head. They scurried like startled rats.
“My king, you must calm down,” the vizier said. The old man moved his staff side to side, in deference.
“I am not yet king, Pensekhmet. Not until morning.” Seti rested his head on his father’s image, freshly kohled on the surface of the painted wooden coffin. The pigments smelled of sharp pine and heavy clay, alive and fresh, but his bitter old father lay inside—wrapped in linen and empty of his soul. The tyrant had finally passed into the afterworld. Even now, he walked with the gods.
“When the sun rises, you will be king. It is time to put away your childish notions and accept your destiny.”
Seti beat his fists against the wood in a slow rhythm. “I do not want to rule Egypt.”
“You are foolish and young. You will rule.”
“I do not want to marry Sebi.”
“You can have as many wives as you wish, once you are king. But your sister must bear your heir.”
“I don’t want many wives. I want happiness. Even in this sacred place of my ancestors, I know something else awaits me out there. Someone. I feel it in my very bones.”
The vizier grasped his shoulder with a crinkled hand and squeezed. “My king, you are suffering. Your father has died, and you need respite. It is understandable. You don’t mean what you say.”
Seti lifted his face and blurs of paint smudged his father’s image. He would not cry or bemoan fate. An answer would come.
“I will find your mother. She is worried about you.” The vizier had aged much since his appointment and he leaned on his staff.
Kindness softened Seti’s tone. “Are you happy, Pensekhmet?”
“I am not happy at your father’s passing.”
“No, I mean really happy. Does your heart fill to bursting each morning when you greet the sun?”
Pensekhmet laughed. “I don’t think anyone is that happy, but I won’t complain. I’ve had a good life.”
“Then you are fulfilled?”
“As much as I expect to be. But you are young and abundant rewards await you. You will find your path—and you’ll have all of Egypt at your feet.”
Seti gazed around the tomb, the hazy halo of oily torchlight casting a pall over the vault.
“Your mother is waiting to come in to look upon your father’s sarcophagus for the last time,” Pensekhmet said. “I will tell her you wish to talk.”
“Thank you.”
The vizier straightened. “When you are done, the boat is prepared for your journey. The Nile is peaceful tonight under the glorious, deep moon, and it won’t take you long to reach the royal home we’ve prepared for you. You can celebrate your impending coronation.”
“As you wish. But I want to be alone.”
“But it’s customary—”
“I don’t care. You may send servants in the morning. I’ll return to the city in the grand parade as you wish. But tonight, I’ll sleep alone.”
“You must have guards,” the vizier said. “Your brother may do something foolish.”
“They are to stay outside the compound.”
“As you require.” The vizier bent to go through the small doorway.
Seti sighed. The large sarcophagus, probably five times bigger than his father, dominated the small room. Much as he had when alive. Canopic jars, carved jewelry, and baskets of dried fruit covered the perimeter of the tomb. Offerings made to facilitate the king’s journey to the afterworld. Pray the gods can handle him.
At sunrise, the tomb opening would be sealed for eternity and his own reign would begin.
With a grand procession into the city, he’d claim his place among the great kings of Egypt. I don’t want to build temples. I don’t want to send men to war. I’m not like my father.
A large cat, painted in abundant detail, peered down at him. Bastet. His favorite goddess. Not the most powerful goddess, but revered, nonetheless. His own palace would be filled with cats, wearing necklaces of gold. He laughed, imagining the hallways teeming with royal felines. Only one had shared his father’s table.
“Father, you would not approve.”
“I think it’s marvelous,” a voice purred.
“What?”
“I said, I think lots of cats in the palace is a marvelous idea.” A warm, slinky tail wrapped around his leg then disappeared.
“Surely, my emotions have overtaken me.”
At the entrance of the tomb stood a woman dressed in a long gown, wearing a jeweled collar. Her eyes, one blue and one green, sparkled in the torchlight like the gems on the offering tables.
“Bastet?” Cold swept through him, and the hairs on his neck stood.
“Yes.” She slunk toward him. “You do not want to rule this empire, Seti? Why not?”
“I-I-I am not the warring kind. I want to heal, not kill. Ruling is not in my blood.”
“Oh, but the gods say it is in your blood. You are of divine birth.” She slipped an arm around his neck and nuzzled close.
The press of her breasts in the soft fabric against his bare chest should have given him pleasure, but he shook with fear. I’ve angered the gods. “What do you want, Goddess?”
“You do deserve love, my dear Seti. Can you trust me?”
“Of course I trust the direction of the gods. What will you have of me?”
“Eve will help you. But you must willingly accept. Only then will you be fulfilled.”
“My coronation is tomorrow. How will this eve help me—nothing can stop the dawn.”
She stroked his back, and a deep vibration in her chest rolled up and expanded throughout her. Her eyes glowed. “Trust me, trust Madame Eve—she will help you. Someone will come. This person will also have needs. You will help her and perhaps you will find what you seek.”
“I don’t know….”
“She won’t be from this time, or this Egypt.”
“I don’t understand.”
“She will appear foreign to you, but know this: she will bring you joy. Trust Eve.”
“From where will she come?”
Her nose twitched. “I am not certain yet. But you only have tonight, so hurry and make your decision. One night could change your path.”
“But….” He tensed.
She licked his cheek and vanished.
Chapter Three
Katharine combed out her wet hair in long strokes. A shower, even at the clinic, always relaxed her. After pulling on her favorite worn jeans and black tank top, she slipped on the sandals from her bag of spare clothing. Thank goodness I don’t have much paperwork. She yawned. Sleeping on the pullout sofa in her office would be a lot easier than driving home. Maybe I won’t even pull it out.
As the coffeemaker hissed and steamed, she searched for her favorite cup among the mismatched dishes piled in the drainer. Two spoons of sugar, stir, and instant alertness. At least for half an hour or so. She opened the outer door to the small back porch off her office. The coffee smelled of nutty chocolate and warmed her from the inside.
The night spread in front of her, with early fall slipping leaves down from trees like whispers. The crickets of summer had quieted and the night lay almost still. The rocking chair creaked as she rocked, cutting into the silence. A chill ran up her back. Not many more nights left to sit outside wearing a tank top. She blew across the top of the coffee and watched the steam whisk away on her breath.
The fax from Madame Eve proved interesting, albeit a little nerve wracking. The promise of a secret night intrigued her. She’d read books with plenty of stories of one-night stands going well—even leading to marriage. But participating in one? She gulped her coffee. In the distance, two lights blinked in the sky—blue and green, like tiny beacons.
Do people really do this? Missy said she knew someone who had. Closing her eyes, she concentrated on the creak of the chair and the low rustle of leaves. The coffee cup warming her hands, she leaned back and closed her eyes.
She blinked awake, shivering, the cup cold. A one-night stand would be more fun than paperwork. What would be the harm?
Heading inside, she saw the clock read nine p.m. That’s it? Feels much later. She set the mug on her desk. “Missy is right; all I do is work. How did my life get to the point of just work, work, work? I used to go out and have fun. Screw it. The paperwork can wait.”
She grabbed the blanket and pillow from the storage ottoman and tossed them on the couch, not bothering to pull it out.
Pulling the blanket up, she settled on the couch. How bad could the date be? I could at least meet the guy. Besides, the fax said Madame Eve really tried to match people’s interests. Couldn’t be any worse than some of the guys she’d picked.
Her eyelids drooped and closed. She had to find a way to make more money at the clinic without charging the rescues. How can I balance my life when my checkbook is in such disarray?
The rap, rap, rap was quiet but persistent—like a branch tapping out a cadence on a glass pane. She sat up slowly. Midnight.
The blanket slid to the floor as she stood. The rapping continued, and she crept over to the door and paused. It could only be an emergency at this hour. “Who is it?” No answer.
The knocking stopped. “Meow.”
It wasn’t the kitten “meow” of a tiny baby or the painful “meow” of an injured animal, but a confident “meow.” Puzzled, she opened the door. A black cat slunk into the office, swirling around her legs once then hopping onto the couch.
“Meow?”
She closed and locked the door.
“Well, what are you doing here?” She stroked the animal. Its eyes sparkled—one blue and one green—appearing to smile at her with upturned whiskers. “Who do you belong to?”
She scratched its neck and discovered a single strand of golden chain set with a green stone. “Interesting. But no contact information.”
The cat purred and rubbed its head against her. “You are so beautiful. You must belong to someone. What are you doing here?”
“Meow?”
Katharine sighed. Why did people let their animals roam free? Out here, near the woods, a coyote could easily take a small animal. “Well, if you are staying with me tonight, let me close my office door so you can’t wander. I’d better get you a box and food and water, too.”
She arranged the supplies in the corner. It wasn’t the first time a stray had made a home in her office, but Missy would be tsk tsking when she found out. Stray animals should go in the quarantine kennel.
“Have you even moved?”
“Meow?” The cat washed.
“I’ve got to sleep. You need to scoot over.”
She crawled back onto the couch and covered up. It curled up on her chest, eyes closed, purring.
“Bastet.”
“Whaa?” Katharine mumbled. She tried to roll over, but the cat didn’t move.
“I am Bastet,” it said.
“And I am dreaming.”
“Not a dream. I am real.”
“I need sleep.”
“No, Madame Eve sent me to deliver you to your date. We must go now.” The cat’s eyes gleamed in the moonlit room.
“Huh?” She struggled to sit, but the animal seemed to gain weight and pin her down.
“Relax, Katharine.” It peered at her, but its mouth didn’t move as the words were spoken. “I am Bastet. I’ll protect you. You have to trust me.”
“Crazy cat—or crazy me, rather—what a weird dream.” She pretended to sleep. When she peeked, the animal’s eyes were glowing green and blue, and she sank deeper into the couch. She fell, head over feet, screaming silently.
Chapter Four
Seti stepped out of the tomb and into the fresh air. The guards bowed to him as he glanced at his father’s open burial house for the last time. Tomorrow, it would be forever sealed. Thankfully.
Fires burned in sand pits all around the ceremonial circle—keeping evil spirits away from his ancestors while the tomb lay open. His father may have been a bad king, but he was still king of Egypt—the greatest land known. How many are celebrating his death? How many look to me to rule? The ney music stopped. How many wish my brother would ascend the throne instead of me?
“Seti!”
His mother rushed to him. Her white mourning sheath was covered in long strands of beads that clinked as she jogged toward him. Though she smiled, he knew it wasn’t sincere.
“Mother. It’s good to see you.” He held his hands out to her.
“Is it?” She raised a kohled eyebrow. Her sleek black hair fell to her shoulders then stopped in a harsh line, as if it dared not disobey. Few things disobeyed his mother.
“Always.” He kissed her forehead.
“Let’s walk. I must talk to you.”
“I am traveling up the Nile to the country home tonight. I don’t have long.” He folded his arms over his chest. The warm breeze refreshed him, after the stifling heat of the tomb.
“Yes, tradition. Pensekhmet said you wish to be alone tonight. No women?”
“I am tired.” He gazed out over the dark horizon, dotted with specks of Bedouin fires as far as he could see.
“They will think you weak. Why give them any more reasons to doubt your authority?”
He shook the sandy soil out of his sandal. “I am weak because I don’t want to command a herd of servant girls to do my bidding in bed? Then what does it mean to be strong?”
“Sebi deserves a virile man.”
“Sebi is marrying a king, remember? I doubt she cares about bedroom abilities.”
“Your sister will bear you many sons.”
Seti walked on ahead. “I don’t love her, and I don’t want her to bear my children.”
“Son, do not continue to speak of this!” She grabbed his elbow, her fingertips biting into his skin. “Amenmesse is waiting for you to take the wrong path. He will step in and claim the kingdom of Egypt.”
