Goddess, Spellbound

by Masters, Cate

  “You are right. Let us not speak of such things.”

  She glanced at the shop window. “Oh no.” The same two disapproving women sat in the window. Staring at her. Actually, at Iker. And yes, at the cats gathering around them.

  “Is something wrong, goddess?”

  Her teeth clenched at the title. Would he never stop calling her that? “Oh, nothing more than usual. Come on.”

  “Who are those women?” He eyed them with suspicion.

  How sweet, his protective warrior instincts picked up on her reaction to them. “Never mind those two. They’re only a danger to themselves.” She headed toward the entrance.

  “What do you mean?”

  “They’re gossips. They like to make me feel bad about myself because cats love me. They’re the only kind of felines I don’t love—catty women.”

  He held the door for her. “That is humorous.”

  He almost grinned. It lightened her mood for about a second. “Some joke.” Once inside, her brave face didn’t last long.

  “They make you uncomfortable.”

  Hm, his Spidey senses stayed on high alert, apparently. “I can’t help it. I know my insecurity makes me just as pathetic as them, but yes, they get to me.”

  He straightened to his full height, his palpable presence exuding regal grandeur. “Stand tall.”

  Goodness, his voice projected everywhere. She ignored the heads turning their way. “What?”

  “You are a daughter of Bastet,” he continued in that commanding tone, “the descendant of a goddess.”

  She might have shushed him, but it wouldn’t have done any good. Maybe she could reason with him. “No one worships goddesses anymore.”

  The only part of him that moved was an eyebrow, arching. “That may be so. But it does not mean you should not receive the honor accorded a goddess.”

  Hm, sounded crazy enough to be true. And something about the way he said it made her want to experience that honor, even once. “You’re right. I deserve to be treated as well as any goddess.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  She gave a queenly nod. “Thank you for reminding me.”

  “You are welcome.”

  After she ordered their coffees, he added, “And one saucer.”

  The cashier, a middle-aged man whose paunch kept him at arm’s length from the register, gave Iker the fish eye. “Only a saucer?”

  “Yes.”

  The cashier handed it over with a shake of his head.

  Iker strode to the station of sugars, napkins and creams and dispensed a shot of milk onto the plate. He carried it to the women’s table.

  With smug smiles, they preened themselves as he approached, shooting ‘I told you so’ glances at Sanura.

  He bowed. “If you must be catty, you should feed your inner feline selves. Enjoy.” He set the saucer of cream on the table between them.

  Spines arched, they hissed indignant responses, but Sanura felt sorry for them when they appeared deflated. No woman should be reduced to a smaller version of herself, even a catty bitch.

  When Iker returned, she handed him his coffee cup. “It isn’t only me who should be treated well. Every woman deserves to be treated like a goddess.” Maybe then they’d treat others better.

  Pride shone in his face. “Few people think such honorable thoughts. You amaze me.”

  “And you make me feel good about myself. Thank you.” It had been far too long since any man had given her the sort of confidence filling her now. She practically glided outside, graceful as a goddess.

  Until she remembered: the vizier and his men had targeted her for death. Maybe this very moment, someone aimed a poisonous arrow their way. To take her mind from such thoughts, she asked, “You never told me. How exactly am I supposed to perform the task?”

  His long, sure strides were those of a warrior. “We must travel to Egypt, to the Valley of the Kings.”

  Good thing she had long legs to keep up. “Not to Baubastis?” She’d assumed they’d travel to Bastet’s temple. If they believed she was a descendant of the goddess, it only made sense for the ritual to be more powerful there. At least, that’s what she expected them to think. She herself didn’t believe it for a second. But oh, how she’d love to see the temple.

  Hewn from pink granite, the structure had a long outdoor pathway lined with huge trees up to the entrance. The temple should have been one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World. Worshippers had entombed mummified cats in the surrounding cemetery, and cats ran free through the temple. Legend held that, if a house in the area caught fire, these cats would run to warn the residents. The goddess Bastet would then bring any cat dying in the attempt to save humans back to life. No wonder Egyptians revered the animals. It might explain the theory of cats’ nine lives, too.

  Iker went on. “No, to the queen pharaoh’s tomb. There, you must perform the ritual spells from the Book of the Dead as the full moon wanes, and the sun rises.”

  “As Ra departs in his chariot to take the sun across the sky.” And souls to the Land in the West. Now she got it. They had to go to where Hatshepsut’s remains rested.

  “Yes. You will invoke the goddess’s power.”

  She shook her head in frustration. “Even if I am a descendant of Bastet, what does she have to do with this ritual? She acted as protector of women and children. The goddess of fertility. Of pleasure.”

  He ducked his head at this, a blush reddening his cheeks. “Bastet is a goddess revered in Egypt.”

  So any Egyptian goddess would work? Just her luck. But why did he act embarrassed? Because Bastet also had a reputation as a generous lover? “I hope I have more luck in those departments than I have in the past.” She said it more to herself than to him, but she couldn’t bear for him to think her promiscuous like the goddess.

  He cocked a brow. “Which departments?”

  “I don’t have much luck with men. So the fertility thing hasn’t had much relevance in my life. Yet.” Okay, talking too much here. “However, cats do love me.” Unable to turn away any stray, they seemed to have an innate ability to locate her door. Her landlord might evict her if he knew she had seven cats.

  “I have observed as much.” His shoulder grazed hers as they walked in sync. “And perhaps your luck in other matters will improve.”

  “I hope so.” With him, at least. Everything about him excited her. He’d brought sense and order to her life. Made her strange, new abilities seem perfectly normal. She didn’t need to explain herself to him; he already knew. And appreciated her for who she was, without wanting to immediately change her or hide her away from friends and family.

  “Why are you sad?”

  “I’m not. I’m great, actually, except I don’t want to be late for work.” The museum was only a half a block away, and it occurred to her they shouldn’t arrive at the same time. Rushing ahead, she doubled her pace when he easily strode beside her. “Can you slow down?”

  “Why?”

  “Because people who see us together will get the wrong impression.”

  Too late; they’d reached the outer doors. In the lobby, Howie turned to frown in their direction.

  Wonderful. Not the experience she wanted to provide an intern, nor the impression she wanted to leave with anyone. “Good morning.” She managed a breezy air and swept past him.

  He scowled at Iker, already down the hall. “Possibly a better morning for you than the rest of us.”

  “Excuse me?” A furtive glance in the warrior’s direction showed Iker ducking into the rest room. She affected an expression of shock, then an indignant tone. “I ran into him on the way to work. He’s a very nice man. At the museum, everyone is treated with equal respect. I expect my employees to abide by those rules.”

  Howie pursed his lips, studying her with a look bordering on disgust. “Sure. Anyway, you had a phone call.”

  How could he possibly know? “Really? Because most people leave me a voice mail on my office phone or cell.”

&
nbsp; “No, he called the main number. One of the members of the Antiquities Council.”

  “Oh?” The hairs prickled on her neck. The Council rep had her direct line, and wouldn’t call the museum’s main phone to get lost in the automated answering system.

  Liar. But why?

  His cheek flinched. “Yes, unfortunately I left the message in the back when I was there earlier. This way.” His fingers at the small of her back guided her down the hall.

  The prickles on her neck traveled down her spine. This felt wrong. Very wrong. “Why don’t you bring it to my office?” She veered away from him. Where had Iker gone? And everyone else?

  Hardness filled Howie’s eyes as, with snakelike swiftness, he gripped her wrist and twisted her arm behind her back. “You should come with me.”

  “You’re hurting me, Howie.” She spoke loudly in hopes someone would overhear. Unfortunately, no one came running, and they’d passed from the security camera’s scan area, so no one would know.

  He hissed near her ear, “Am I, kitten?”

  She jerked her head with a gasp, but only caught a glimpse of him–enough to turn the prickles into fiery jabs. “Howie, stop now and I’ll forget this.”

  His laugh was sharp and short. “No, you won’t. Besides, I have another job to do.” He shoved her into the back room. “A duty I find much more gratifying. It also pays very well.”

  She stumbled ahead, but regained her balance with surprising ease. “Seriously, Howie. You’re making a huge mistake.” Like everyone else these days. Had some sort of mass hysteria set in?

  Meanness glittered in his eyes. “No, I’m not.” He advanced, and each slow, sure step grew more coiled. He practically slithered. His hair, unkempt as ever, fanned from his head.

  A cobra’s hood. Limbs bristling with adrenaline, she stumbled backward. “Who are you?”

  His voiceless, sibilant laugh echoed through the room. The slide of scaly flesh followed him. His gait grew smoother, and rather than steps, he seemed to coil and glide, coil and glide.

  This is crazy! He can’t be a snake. But she wasn’t going to take any chances. She lunged to the side, clawing at boxes on the shelves, toppling them in her wake.

  He shot in front of her and wavered. Brows angled low, he peered at her with cold, beady eyes. “We’re going to visit the vizier.”

  A nervous laugh escaped. “No, sorry, my schedule’s full.” She darted back to the aisle leading to the door.

  A sharp hiss, and Howie shot ahead in a blur, and then stood in front of her again. “I’ve cleared your schedule. You’ll soon learn what’s on the other side of the tomb door.”

  “The false door?” Hell, no. Of all the Egyptian sites on her bucket list, the false door didn’t number among them.

  She leapt to his side, hoping to clear him, but he wound slimy, cool limbs around her. She’d have stomped on his tail, but he wrapped around her legs and squeezed, binding them tightly.

  “The vizier will prove to you the tomb door isn’t false,” he hissed.

  Alarm skittered through her. User had hired Howie? “Whatever he’s paying you, I’ll give you more.” If any bank would lend it to her. Better not ask if he’d accept plastic.

  “Time to hush, kitten.” His whispered lisp grated her nerves.

  She caught a glimpse of a long, forked tongue flicking at her neck. Laser-fast, two points seared into her shoulder. The burn seeped through her limbs, robbing her of strength. Its sizzling flowed through her head, diluting her thoughts, and washing away her ability to speak. Her vision blurred, images became shapeless, and colors ran together—gray oozing into black. Weightless, she drifted into the growing void, small and hard as a stone bubble.

  ****

  Dressing was normally a task Iker performed automatically, without thought. Today, every movement conjured her image. Removing his jeans, he was all too aware of the slide of denim down his legs. With each button of his uniform, her phantom hands might have moved in tandem with his.

  Sanura.

  Had someone cast a spell on him? You are a warrior. He’d dawdled when he should have stayed beside her, protecting her.

  With military precision, he finished dressing and slipped out of the closet. Despite heavy boots, his steps were light, and the sudden urge to whistle overtook him. Yes, the perils they faced would present great challenges, but he could think of no one he’d rather face them with than her.

  The museum was strangely silent. No sign of Sanura. Nor the weasly boy she’d hired as an intern. Beady eyed, always slinking around, he set Iker’s nerves on edge. Whatever value he brought to the museum, only Sanura could see it.

  Where was she, anyway? He checked the room where the Egyptian artifacts sat on display. Not there. Perhaps in her office? He strode to the door, still closed. With each step, anxiety ratcheted higher. The knob resisted turning in his hand. Wariness grew in intensity. She always unlocked her office first thing upon arriving, and the door remained open until she left for the evening.

  A muffled thud sounded, and a soft groan. A woman’s. The noise came from down the hall, beyond the door marked Staff Only. With the stealth of a cat, he crept along the wall. Instinctively, he drew his dagger. Of small use against the forces aligned against Sanura, but enough to wound an enemy. Long ago, he’d learned that any small delay in battle could provide leverage to shift the tide in his favor.

  At a strange sliding sound he couldn’t decipher, his grip on the weapon tightened. He strained to listen more closely near the door. It burst open, the slam of metal against his head disorienting him. His shoulder hit the wall, and then the other side of his head. His knife clattered to the floor, its echo entwined with the same strange sound from earlier whooshing past him. Its urgency drew his focus. The swift slither of a large serpent, its long tail disappearing into the artifact room, stunned any movement from him.

  The realization that the serpent sported a man’s head propelled him to his feet. Palm against the wall, he steadied himself.

  Only one monster had such features. “Apep.” That Ra’s enemy had surfaced here boded the worst ill. Apep’s sworn vengeance against Ra, the Sun God, certainly extended to Ra’s daughter, Bastet, and all descendants thereafter.

  A soft moan echoed from the serpent’s direction. Iker strained to sharpen his blurred vision. Was Apep carrying someone?

  Iker stumbled toward the exhibit room. An ear-splitting crack, and a flash more brilliant than lightning forced him to shield his eyes with one arm, slowing his pace.

  “No.” It could mean only one thing. He ran on wobbly legs to the entrance in time to see the searing-bright light retreating through the false door as if suctioned inside. Sparkling flecks illuminated the granite like a thousand tiny stars, then faded to black.

  “Sanura?” Her name echoed off the ancient pillar of granite, impenetrable, once again only the illusion of a passageway. It echoed off the legion of cat statues, staring lifelessly ahead. Accusingly. It echoed off his mummified cadaver, hollow as he felt, eyes closed as if to shut out his failure.

  Sanura was gone. He was trapped on the wrong side of the door.

  Chapter Ten

  Except for the rough jostling, Sanura might have been dreaming. Floating along through a long corridor of light, soothing until it slowly dimmed, and finally ended in complete darkness. Mind in a haze, her eyelids might’ve had weights on them, too heavy to move. Slowly, she forced them apart.

  The same blackness that filled her sight with her eyes closed greeted her with them open. Whatever serenity had come over her skittered away like a bat, and a frozen panic blanketed her. She most definitely wasn’t asleep.

  None of her dreams included cold, slimy hands against her skin. She pushed at them, and recoiled at the fetid breath escaping with the huff.

  “Quiet, kitten, or I may decide to sample your sweet flesh again.”

  Disgust tremored through her. Howie? Her mind asked the question, obviously a rhetorical one. Not Howie at all, but someone
else beneath a clever guise of innocence. Not entirely convincing, either, but too late for that genius revelation. She should have paid closer attention to her instincts.

  Especially after her instincts had shifted, grown sharper. Where the old Sandy’s flight response might have kicked in, Sanura dug her claws in the ground, ready to claw and bite. At least, when her arms weren’t bound.

  “Listen, Howie—or whoever you are. If you stop right here and take me back, I promise I won’t file charges—”

  The serpentine intern hissed a laugh. “File charges? Oh, that’s rich.”

  Point taken. Who would believe she’d been kidnapped by a man-serpent?

  He hissed close to her ear. “The laws of your world do not bind me, kitten.”

  She gulped. Did he mean he didn’t belong in her world? She had no desire to step a toe into any universe he called his. “What I mean is, I’ll forget all about this… misunderstanding. We can go our separate ways like nothing ever happened.” Hardly. She’d be washing forever to get the slime off her skin. Oh, and these clothes would have to burn. She could never wear this outfit again without remembering the ickiness of this experience—the way he glided ahead with seeming little effort like a slithering express train, the short puffs of cold air comprising his breaths, the smoothness of his scales which brought to mind expensive tooled leather. Her nails dug into her arms. Given the chance, she wouldn’t mind making a few handbags and pairs of shoes out of old Howie.

  Her stomach flip-flopped when he made an abrupt turn down what felt like another corridor. The air quickly grew cold.

  “Go our separate ways?” he hissed. “But then I wouldn’t have the satisfaction of seeing you suffer.”

  An involuntary shudder shook her. Not from his threat, either. Did he have to use so many words that contained S’s? The sibilance of his pronunciation lent an even creepier effect to the surreal conversation.