Goddess, Spellbound

by Masters, Cate

  Sanura pressed against his back. “What’s wrong?”

  “The roof is crumbling. We must run before the tunnel collapses upon us.” Shielding her as best he could, he rushed along the corridor. One man tripped and sprawled in their path. If the goddess weren’t his first priority, Iker would have helped the guard. He stepped over him. “Get up before you are buried.”

  Only darkness lie ahead, but a whiff of fresh air infused the stale air around them. It spurred him faster. “We’re nearly there.”

  Rumbling rushed up from deep within. The roof crumbled into a rain of stone. The three men behind broke into stumbling runs, forcing Iker and Sanura to do the same. The path led up an incline to the mouth of the cave, where a rectangular porthole provided what would be the perfect lookout site.

  To the right, the path dropped down behind a boulder to the hillside. Iker understood why the tunnel had remained secret. From the outside, the opening would be nearly impossible to detect. If the vizier’s followers were posted outside, they’d surely know their location by the noise.

  He swept her to the side of the exit and curled her beneath him as the rumble grew into a roar. The men ran ahead of the landslide, and dust billowed out the horizontal opening.

  He breathed into her hair, its scent dizzying. He grew intensely aware of the silky gown clinging to her curves, the softness of her skin beneath his touch, the rise and fall of her breaths. “Are you injured?”

  As she looked over her shoulder, the blaze of her eyes scorched his insides.

  “No. Are you?”

  Her soft voice like a caress, and his inhale hitched. “I’m fine.”

  Except for acting like a fool. Plus, he’d planned to scout the area before guiding Sanura from here. With a wall of rock now blocking the pathway inside, they had no choice but to expose themselves to the watchers in the night. Flashes of lightning lit the landscape. Rain spattered in intermittent drops that could soon become a downpour.

  “How far are the tombs?” he asked their guide.

  Leaning against the boulder, the leader wiped sweat from his brow. “In the valley below. A difficult walk along the stony path. My men will take the lead.”

  Sanura stepped around Iker. “First let me tend to you and your men. The scorpion venom is making you ill.”

  Iker scanned the rocky wall, expecting to see dark silhouettes. “We have no time.”

  Blinking against the drizzle, Sanura set her jaw. “They could die.” Holding the leader’s arm, she scanned her palm above its length, glazed eyes heavy as her lips moved in a sort of trancelike meditation. She repeated the process on his other arm, then his legs, and finally raising her open hands along his chest and head. A slow blink, and she looked him over. “Let the energy sink in for a minute.”

  She bent over a man on the ground. He lay in a fetal position, twitching against each raindrop. Cradling his head in her hands, she winced. “This might take a little longer.” Eyes rolling, he drooled.

  “Hurry, Sanura.” Iker didn’t like their vulnerable position.

  As if she hadn’t heard, she began the healing ritual, a longer one than the first. Because it would do no good, he said nothing when she moved to the next man, and the next, until she’d finished with the last.

  “Now may we go?”

  With a pleased smile, she looked the men over. “Another minute.”

  The leader pushed himself away from the rock. “We are at your service.”

  Iker kept the sarcasm from his voice as he said, “Thank you.” Whatever dangers awaited, they would have to meet them head on.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Spitting drops became a steady rain against Sanura’s shoulders and face. Under different circumstances, she’d have welcomed the wetness cooling her parched skin, but the men’s torches hissed and the flames sputtered.

  Iker removed his short cape and held it above Sanura’s head. Even so, she’d be drenched by the time they reached the tombs.

  Their guide gestured them onward. “We must double our pace. Sanura must finish the ceremony before the tombs flood.”

  “Flood?” She swung her focus to Iker, hoping for some indication the guy was exaggerating. At Iker’s seriousness, she gulped.

  The man pointed to the cliffs. “Storm-fed waterfalls form there first, then cascade into the tombs. Some of the burial sites contain well rooms to funnel the waters out, but those are only in the kings’ tombs.”

  She clenched her hands and rooted her feet on the ground. “I’ll do whatever needs to be done, but I can’t hurry when I’m not even sure what I have to do yet.” It wasn’t as if she’d performed this ceremony before. Give a girl a break. The pressure spiked her heart rate.

  Iker took her hand. “I will guide you through each step of the ritual.”

  Warmth flowed from his palm to hers, and his calm confidence helped slow her hammering pulse. She nodded. “Let’s go get this over with, then.”

  On the descent her slippers slid against the wet, but sharp, stones. Each time, Iker braced his arm and gripped her tighter until she steadied herself.

  When they finally reached the bottom, she wanted to laugh. All that worry for nothing. They were home free, the entrance to the catacombs only yards away.

  She charged ahead of the men with one goal in mind: getting this done. A wall of white fire shot up inches from her. With a sharp breath, she stumbled backward. The barrier stretched as far as she could see.

  “Sanura.” Iker encircled an arm around her waist and dragged her farther back.

  Their guide joined them. “We’ll have to find a way around.”

  Iker scowled. “We cannot afford another delay.”

  A longer look drew Sanura closer. Something about those flames seemed wrong, especially the lack of warmth from what should have been an unbearable heat from the white-hot flames.

  Iker shot out his arm and blocked her way. “Stand back. We will use another path.”

  “No, it’s okay. See?” Timidly, she reached out her fingers toward the searing brilliance crackling like lightning. Instead of scorching her hand… nothing. “A mere mirage can’t keep us out.”

  Obviously a scare tactic that had the vizier’s fingerprints all over it. She was determined to leave her own mark there as a display of fearlessness. Or a virtual thumbing of her nose at User.

  She stepped into the flames. They were kind of lovely, actually, in a seaside funhouse attraction kind of way, but also slightly unnerving once she’d passed inside. The flames surrounded her, yet didn’t touch her. Rain still pelted the ground around her but not her skin, so it was more than a hologram.

  “No, goddess. You’ll perish.” Iker hovered at the edge of the fire illusion.

  “Come on, it’s fine. Don’t you see the real landscape just past this false one?” Beyond the fire, which appeared only a few feet wide, the outline of the tombs appeared distinct to her. Maybe her feline vision afforded her the ability to glimpse the true path. If Iker couldn’t, he’d be at a disadvantage. She could help with that.

  Extending her hand, she smiled. “Guess I’ll have to guide you for this first part.”

  With a kind of wonder, he approached, never taking his eyes from hers. “You are right.”

  “Well, of course.” She laughed. “How could you doubt me?”

  “Forgive me.” He lifted her hand to his lips.

  The feather-light kiss on her fingertips sent another kind of lightning through her, its searing heat zinging through her veins and blooming on her cheeks. Careful, might cause a ripple effect and infuse some real flames into this illusion.

  She waved the others ahead. “Follow us.”

  After exchanging questioning glances, they fell in line behind their leader, who advanced into the holographic flames with tentative steps. In a different situation, the sight would have been comical.

  We’ll all have a big laugh tomorrow. Preferably over margaritas. Or—oh yes, even better—tequila straight up. “We’re almost there.”


  A few more steps, and they’d reach the stairs leading up into the catacomb of tombs. Then the real show would begin.

  The moment her shoe touched the stone step, she tugged Iker. He bounded up and would have leapt past if they hadn’t still been holding hands. Lightning bolts grew more frequent and appeared more striking against the black clouds. As the leader had predicted, the storm unleashed a downpour.

  With a squeal, she hunched and ran into the stone opening. Not the most dignified entrance to the Valley of the Kings. Halting, she examined her clothes. “Oh no.” All that preparation, down the drain. Literally. “I’ve ruined my gown.”

  “Women.” Iker shook his head with a smug smirk.

  She glared at him. “What? You think I’m being ridiculous?”

  “You look wonderful.” Shock replaced his teasing when he assessed her with a glance.

  Obviously, he was lying. His expression was a dead giveaway. “Yes, I’m sure all the goddesses are better wet.” She swallowed hard. “I mean…”

  Heat glowed in his glazed eyes as he gave her a once-over.

  Whoa. A fever? “Hey, are you okay?” Idiot. She’d never checked his insect bites. “Do you need me to heal your scorpion stings? I’m sorry I didn’t—”

  He clamped his mouth shut and jerked soldier-straight. “No need. We must go.”

  He walked away so stiffly, she might have thought his mummification had somehow returned. A second inspection of herself, and she, too, snapped straight. Oh. Wet white sheath, no bra or panties. She got it.

  At shouts outside, she turned. The leader framed one archway. “Go without us. They’ve sent fanged vipers.”

  “Not more snakes.” A shudder passed over her remembering Howie’s slimy touch and the serpentine intruders in Luxor. She hitched her sheath and rushed after Iker.

  At one cavern, she paused to peer inside. A king’s tomb, apparently, because scenes from Amduat, or 'That Which is in the Underworld', decorated the walls. The carvings were common in the more ancient burial sites to describe the sun-god’s journey through the twelve hours of night. A pang of regret hit her. If only she could have been among the early digs, uncovering the treasured relics included for each mummy.

  Not only the jewelry, though she’d loved to have imagined the royalty wearing their finery. No, her passions extended to everything their loved ones set in their tombs to help their dearly departed on their journey in the afterlife—pottery, jugs of wine, furniture, even beloved hunting dogs, pet baboons or gazelles. Every item had its own story to reveal. Exploring the site was a luxury she couldn’t afford right now.

  “Sanura.”

  She turned toward Iker’s urgent tone. A sigh, and she said, “Coming.” And coming back, someday, with a camera and plenty of time.

  She followed him down a winding pathway that descended lower into the stone structure. Another difficult hike, one she should have remembered. Hatshepsut’s actual burial chamber sat deep below the surface. They’d be trapped underground again. Not her favorite place to be. At least Iker’s torch still held a small flame.

  Focus on something else. Like not falling. With its craggy walls and crumbly floor, this passageway definitely embodied the term ‘ruins’. “So what does the ritual entail?”

  “First you must summon the goddess Máat to hear our plea for justice for the queen pharaoh.”

  Her jaw dropped. “I have to face the goddess who weighs dead people’s souls?” Meeting Bastet hadn’t been as intimidating as she’d thought, but she’d bet Máat didn’t give off such a friendly, helpful vibe.

  “Yes,” Iker said, “in the first of many steps. The ritual is long and arduous.” The grit of his voice conveyed that he didn’t look forward to the process, either.

  “I remember reading that.” She took a bracing breath. “Must’ve blocked it from my mind.”

  “I will remain at your side until the end.” He spoke it like a vow.

  The end of the ritual? Or the end of their lives, when the vizier killed them? Never mind, she didn’t want to know. “I know you’re only here because you promised to help Hatshepsut, but I appreciate it.”

  Abruptly, he turned to face her. He brushed her hair behind her shoulder and cupped her cheek. “My promise to the queen pharaoh led me here. But I stay for you, Sanura.”

  Did her knees just buckle a little? She grasped his arm. “Iker.” Her heart raced into overdrive.

  He eased closer, but paused when footsteps echoed from below. “The others await,” he whispered, clasped her hand in his and guided her down the circling stairway.

  She tugged him to a stop. “Wait.” Couldn’t they kiss one last time? At this rate, with enemies popping up as often as booby traps, she might not get another chance. And once she did what he asked her to, he’d disappear from her life.

  He turned again, the ground’s slope bringing him nearly level with her.

  His crystal eyes cut into her, sliced her open so she was sure he could see deep inside. Her insides filled with something like helium when his gaze dropped to her mouth. Did he know the effect he had on her?

  “Yes?” he asked.

  “I…” She exhaled sharply. Am a huge idiot.

  His expression softened. “I understand. Once you begin the ritual, you’ll face many risks. The perils will be tenfold.”

  “I’m not worried. We can defeat them. Together.”

  “Yes. I have complete faith in you.”

  A flutter hit her heart like a storm of butterflies. No one had ever said that to her before. “I’ll do my best.”

  “I never doubted. Now we must—”

  “I know.” She squeezed his hand. On impulse, she pressed her mouth to his. Hard, expecting him to pull away. His lips became softer as he cupped her face. Her heart took off on a roller-coaster ride, everything in her screaming for more.

  Later, she told herself, and drew back with a smile. “For luck. Okay, let’s go.”

  The huff that burst from him didn’t exhibit frustration, as she’d expected. No, he actually laughed. A short one, yes, but that made it all the more precious. A grin, and he led her on, a new boldness in his stride, a new swagger in his hips.

  The butterfly flock in her chest did a flip en masse, more impressive than a Blue Angels maneuver, and leaving an indelible streak through her. Why couldn’t she find a guy in the real world like him? One who understood her? Accepted her at face value?

  When they reached the bottom of the stairwell, she bumped into him when he stopped. Within the burial site, about a half dozen men in old style Egyptian dress shuffled back and forth with baskets of charms shaped like crocodiles and serpents. Burning incense filled the air with a potent haze intended to purify the soul of the dead. Each of the four pots sat atop decorative posts representing the pillars which held up the sky from each of the four directions. At the base of each post lay a goose, freshly slain in sacrifice to the gods of the East, West, North and South. The Eye of Horus decorated a pedestal holding an immense book, probably the Book of the Dead for her to consult during the ritual. In the center of the burial site, a small fire crackled within a circle of stones.

  But how could this small space accommodate all that needed to be done? Plus all the gods required to participate in the ceremony?

  One of the workers glanced over and spoke in a hushed hiss. In unison, they faced her and bowed.

  The swarm inside her heated into angry bees zinging at her core. She leaned close to Iker to whisper, “Who are they?”

  “The queen pharaoh’s devoted followers.”

  An audience. She hadn’t counted on helpers. Or critics. Hopefully, they weren’t too harsh in judging her performance.

  Which reminded her, she’d better get started. Already, a stream of rainwater trickled down the walls. Most kings’ tombs had well rooms, but Hatshepsut’s remains had been hidden away from her official tomb into this smaller space for safekeeping. With nowhere to go, the stormwater would fill up the tomb fast.


  Sanura had no intention of joining the queen pharaoh in her final resting place.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Iker had grown used to the feel of Sanura’s hand in his. Releasing her left him unanchored, floating like an empty vessel on rocky seas.

  After two lifetimes relying on no one but himself, he questioned why this might be so. He’d fulfilled his duties to the queen pharaoh by bringing Sanura there. As Hatshepsut’s soul would be freed, so would freedom be within his reach. After tonight, for the first he could ever remember, he would owe no one.

  Yet the thought dismayed him. Spending the rest of his life alone held no appeal, especially if it meant never seeing Sanura again.

  A gasp, and her eyes widened. “Do you think User will show up here?”

  “The vizier himself will present no threat tonight. He would not risk a confrontation with the gods.” Iker wouldn’t mention that the vizier’s minions weren’t bound by the same fear. He expected them anytime now.

  “What a relief. Guess I’d better go introduce myself.” She glided toward the others.

  He couldn’t take his eyes off her. She moved with an ethereal grace, a warrior’s fierceness. She is a goddess now. Her new status catapulted her far beyond his world into one he would never belong.

  “Hello.” She smiled at them. “I’m Sanura.”

  They halted the placement of pitchers of various beers, wines, cakes, unguents and oils, all the traditional offerings to the gods which Sanura would use during the ritual. The last carried a long spear, its pointed tip so sharp, it was said to sing when thrust through the air.

  The servant held the weapon in front of Sanura with a bow. She returned the nod, and he twirled the spear like a child’s baton. A metallic whistling sounded as the tip pierced the air in an impressive show, then the sound faded as he slowed. The servant ended the display by planting the blunt end of the spear in the ground at arm’s length. Sanura grasped the rod and he released the weapon to her.