The Ripple Effect: Dane

by Jodie Becker

  "I've never seen anything like them before.” Jamilah shivered, recalling the hatred in their eyes.

  "Do you remember your name?"

  "It's Jamilah ... Jamilah Curtis."

  The woman frowned, her gaze turned suspicious. “That's an odd name."

  Jamilah's lips rose in wry grin. “Tell me about it. My mother was obsessed with the Ancient Egyptian culture ... well, my whole family was, actually."

  "Not many people like to admit to things like that."

  Perplexed by the undertone of warning in the woman's voice, Jamilah faced her. “Why is that?"

  Dr. Preston's head slanted to one side. “You don't remember, do you?"

  "Remember what?"

  "No one trusts Egyptians anymore. Not since Set was reborn."

  Jamilah's heart skipped a beat, then pattered crazily. The Holyman had mentioned something similar. But ... but it was implausible. Set was just a deity, not a physical incarnation. A being created by the belief of people who wanted to find meaning in life. “That's impossible! Set isn't real."

  "I assure you, he is,” Dr. Preston said.

  "No, no. The ancient Egyptians created their belief system. Their gods and goddesses were embodiments of nature and human emotions. They aren't real."

  A cool hand pressed against her shoulder. “I think you should lie down. You're distressing yourself needlessly."

  Jamilah shook her head vigorously. “When did this happen?"

  "Set was released from his immortal prison in 1898."

  1898? Impossible. Jamilah groaned, as the room spun crazily. In 1898 the Tombs of Tuthmosis III and Amenhotep II were discovered. No temple or prison of Set. “No, this is all wrong. Nothing like that was discovered then. Not even after 1898. This is crazy."

  The woman looked at her as though she'd lost her mind. “I assure you, it was discovered."

  "No! You're wrong. I know everything there is to know about Egyptology and I'm telling you, that didn't happen,” Jamilah said, her voice pitching higher as hysteria started to take hold.

  "I really think you should calm down,” she said, reaching out in an attempt to calm her.

  Jamilah knocked the doctor's hand aside and pushed herself off the bed, a frenzied feeling washing over her body. She had to prove this woman wrong. “I have textbooks on this in my office. I can show you this didn't happen."

  Jamilah didn't like the way Dr. Preston's eyes softened with pity. “We have a library here. I can perhaps come by later with some books detailing—"

  "Where is it?"

  The woman blinked. “It's just up the escalators on the—"

  Jamilah stormed passed her and out of the small clinic. Momentarily taken aback by the layout of the center that looked oddly like a shopping mall, she hurried along the aisle toward the escalators leading to the next level. The Kimmel Library sign glared at her as she took the steps two at a time until she hit the carpeted surface at the top.

  She strode across the walkway toward the double doors, then pushed them open to step inside. The musty scent of old books washed over her, a familiar smell that helped to ease some of the panic that gripped on her soul. Searching out the historical section, she followed the order of books until she found a section on Ancient Egypt. She frowned at the lack of books there, but picked out one of the five slim entries. Flipping to the index, she scanned for familiar names and discoveries, but found not even half of them.

  Bile rose to the back of her throat, but she swallowed it back and dropped the book in her hands to pick out another. It contained even less information than the last.

  "Oh, my God,” she gasped. Her heartbeat pattered in her ear like an ominous drum.

  Abandoning the books on Ancient Egypt, she searched for references to modern history. Hiroshima? Nothing. Pearl Harbor? Nothing.

  Fear grasped her as she slammed the books shut. Desperate, she looked for books on pop culture, but could only find references to classical music and the phonograph—an instrument still considered by people of this time as a modern tool.

  Struggling for breath, Jamilah flicked to the back of the book to the borrowed record slip. The dates glared at her. It was still the present. Her present time. She hadn't been thrust into a different world or the near future. She was in the present ... but a different present. An alternate plane of reality?

  A sob bubbled to the back of her throat as her knees gave out beneath her. This couldn't be happening. Where were her friends and family now?

  Sensing movement behind her, she glanced over her shoulder and stood. Dane's body crowded the narrow aisle, his features stiff and unyielding, yet somehow his presence soothed her frayed nerves.

  "What's happening to me?” she asked on a small cry.

  Dane's head slanted as though he found her distress curious. He stepped toward her and, with his knuckle, gently kicked up her chin, forcing her to look into his eyes. Although he remained silent, she read the understanding in those green depths and found it a comfort. Unlike his abrupt manner when they'd first met, he soothed his fingers over the tears that lined her cheeks. Like a friend ... like a lover.

  Jamilah implored him with her eyes. “Please, I don't know what's going on."

  Still he remained silent, the pad of his thumb running along her lower lip. Then he whispered something. Something so soft, she could barely hear it.

  "What?"

  He canted his head forward. His hot breath touched the corner of her eye, and trailed along the line of cheek. Jamilah closed her eyes, soothed by the careful caresses he made along her skin. His hands cupped her jaw while the balls of his thumbs ran lazy circles below her earlobes.

  He whispered again, and Jamilah distinctly heard him. It sounded like a chant of sorts, but nothing in a language she knew. His breath whispered along her lips, and her heart forced a double beat. He followed a line along the other side of her face with his breath until it tickled her ear.

  "Let it go,” he murmured.

  Jamilah could barely hear him over the delicious hum in her body. The massage he utilized on her released all thought and tension even as she struggled to hold onto what she was doing here. “I can't."

  "You can. It's going to be all right,” he said, and this time she noticed his voice was different in its softness.

  His mouth left her ear to place a gentle kiss on one corner of her mouth, then the other. Jamilah sighed, awash in the sensations he wrought upon her.

  His tongue slid along the seams of her lips and Jamilah moaned as he kissed her. Desire brushed across her skin like a gentle wave while his tongue made a sweep of her mouth. Her tongue dueling with his, she released her inhibitions as something deep within her moved. Familiarity, passion and sexual awakening stirred and surged through her body.

  He was so gentle, yet powerful at the same time. He dazzled her with his skill as his hands fondled a small erogenous zone along the column of her neck. Thoughts of the past, present and future faded until all that remained was the two of them. He became her rock in her uncertain world.

  Soon his tentative exploration turned passionate, his groan mingling with her own as desire seared through her body and settled in the pit of her stomach. He rained kisses along her jaw line and against the column of her neck. His moist tongue licked the corner where her neck met the collarbone; all the while mumbling something in that other language of his.

  "Do you believe in destiny?” he asked in English.

  Jamilah opened her eyes and looked into the soft green depths of his. Destiny? Fate? No, she didn't, but right now, she was willing to believe anything to keep him with her.

  "You are my destiny,” he rasped, the blazing passion in his eyes titillating her. “You are mine."

  "Yours?” she repeated in a daze.

  A possessive gleam entered his eyes as his hand fell on the top of her thigh, drawing it onto his hip and forcing her skirt to ride up. His mouth dropped over hers in hungry urgency even as one hand rose up the inside of her thigh.

&
nbsp; He touched the center of her and gently circled her clit through her panties. Heat fired to life as her knees trembled. Her eyes slid shut, and she sighed into his mouth. He fondled her with his hand, and ran a line up and down the outside of her sex, milking her for a response until he got it. Her hips thrust against him of their own accord.

  A feral growl rumbled in his chest as he flicked a blunt nail against her nub, making her gasp and cry out. He rained a line of kisses along her neck and shoulder as he shifted her underwear aside to touch the moist warmth beyond.

  He massaged her slick folds, his fingers rough against the tender flesh, but she welcomed his touch. Pulling her leg up higher to allow him better access, she dipped her head back.

  A finger entered her moist canal, almost making her come at the force of it. He pummeled her with his finger, alternatively rubbing his palm against her nub. Soon another finger joined the first, the friction of pleasure and pain melded into a delicious heat as the pace increased.

  Her body coiled to hang by the precipice as he slammed his fingers into her. Then a burst of light flashed, and she came with a shudder and cry of ecstasy. Jamilah gasped as the last tremor left her body and opened her eyes to find Dane's cold, hard gaze upon her.

  Jamilah felt a stab of apprehension. What was she doing? She'd let a virtual stranger fondle her. “Stop,” she rasped.

  His finger, still in her, moved, and despite the bliss that sparked there, she couldn't let go of the strange caution that stabbed into her heart. She clasped her hand over his thick wrist, anger overcoming her as she pushed against him. “Let me go."

  He pressed against her, close enough for her to feel his undeniable erection against her hip. “Yes,” he crooned.

  "No!” she screamed.

  Jamilah slapped him, the crack of sound echoing in the silence. A red mark seared across the skin of his cheek. He released her and stepped back, but that was all he did.

  Jamilah's fury raised a notch at the look of bemusement in his eyes. It wasn't the middle ages. Women were allowed to say “no". She brushed a lock of hair from her eyes to glare at him. “What's the matter with you? I said no. I can't do this."

  He frowned as though he didn't understand what she'd said.

  "I wanted someone to comfort me, but not like that,” she bit off. “And not a stranger."

  "I am not a stranger. I am your lover."

  "You are not my lover."

  His lips curled back in an almost predatory smile. “I will be."

  The promise sent heat and trepidation through her as he turned and sauntered away.

  * * * *

  The sound of persistent knocking jarred through his consciousness. Blinking, Dane stared up from his crouched position within the room. How long had he been out of it?

  Sweat dribbled in his eyes, and he wiped it away with trembling fingers. The muscles in his arms screamed in protest as he pushed off them and stood.

  "Dane?” Dr. Preston's voice came through the door.

  On unsteady legs he approached the door and eased it open. “Yes?” He cleared his throat against the grating sound of his voice.

  The doctor blinked up at him, her eyes filled with concern. “Are you all right?"

  Dane turned away from her to sit on the bed. “Yeah, I'm fine."

  She stepped into the room and then shut the door behind her. “You don't look it."

  He tilted his head, and cast her an aggravated stare. “You wanted something?"

  "The woman you rescued, Jamilah, said you approached her in the library. Can you explain that to me?"

  Dane tried to keep his expression passive as a sense of dread washed over him. Clearing his throat, he leaned back slightly. “When was this?"

  The doc frowned, and a perplexed look entered her gaze. “Last night."

  With an offhanded shrug, he leaned back against the wall. “So?"

  Her frown darkened, and the sick sense of dread increased within him. What had he done? “I haven't known you to be cruel to anyone, Dane."

  "What's it to you?” he snapped, but his stomach lurched.

  "What's it to me? You know what you did. It was inexcusable and uncalled for. Jamilah is looking for someone to turn to, and you do this?"

  Anger rose against the fear that bit at him. She wanted him to make Jamilah feel accepted. He, who wasn't accepted himself. “I'm not her keeper."

  "No, but you brought her here and because of that, she is your responsibility, not your chattel. You don't take away someone's will like that, and violate their trust. I won't have you abusing people in this complex. They have nowhere else to go, just like you."

  Dane glowered. “I didn't violate her trust.” Did he?

  Doctor Preston eased onto the mattress beside him, and her hand dropped on his back in a motherly pat. “Look, I know you're wrung tight with the recent battles going on about us. But it's no reason to take it out on her. She is just as strung out as you are. She has gone through a lot and is suffering from severe denial, and it's going to take her some time to readjust to what's going on around her. She has the right to freedom of choice, just like you."

  Dane snorted at the notion. Freedom? He didn't have that, even with his own body, choice was stolen from him. He sat in silence for a moment and pondered the events that unrolled before him. What in the world had he been doing in the library? All the stuff that held importance to him was in his room.

  He glanced at the Doctor's concerned gaze. “Where is ... Jamilah?"

  "She's outside."

  With a quick nod, Dane stood and picked up his bow and quiver. He slid the strap over his shoulder and torso, the leather pouch resting comfortably against his back.

  Dr. Preston frowned. “Why must you always insist on wearing that everywhere you go?"

  Dane scowled. He felt naked and exposed without his weapons. They'd been so prevalent in his life that to walk about without them would just feel ... wrong.

  She stood, her gaze narrowed on him. “You should really learn how to properly manage your emotions. All that bottling up you do is bound to explode, and those who are around you when it happens are liable to get hurt."

  Dane's lips curled back in a feral growl. “I don't need you to tell me how to live my life."

  The woman stepped closer, her hand rested on his chest. “It's me, Dane. Look, I know you feel guilty about how your father died—"

  Dane gripped her fingers and removed them from him. “I don't feel any guilt,” he denied.

  Sympathy filled her eyes, and Dane wasn't sure if that was a good thing. His shoulders tensed as he braced himself.

  "I've known people who've lost loved ones, and you just seem to be carrying on in life as though nothing happened. I've never seen you shed a tear once."

  "Set murdered my father. I wasn't responsible for that,” he growled.

  But the truth was, he was responsible. If he hadn't been an active magus, he and his father wouldn't have been arrested. Only fifteen at the time, Dane thought he was invincible and made a fatal mistake, practicing a spell that exposed him.

  Anger intermixed with misery, sparked by the reminder of the moment his father claimed he was the magus who had cast the spell. It had cost Dane his father, what remained of his humanity, and filled him with the drive to end Set's reign.

  Dane's lips thinned and, without another word, he left the room. Florescent light beamed down on him, and he noticed with horror whirling in his gut that morning had arisen. How long had he been out this time? What had he done while they had control of his body? His lips fell into a thin line. He would know soon enough.

  He followed the aisle, then descended the escalator to the bottom level. He crossed the marble tiles that led to the front door. Pushing it open, he squinted against the sun's glare. He spotted her. She sat at a table, her head in her hands.

  Momentarily, he paused as he struggled with guilt and a sense of floundering. He didn't like the thought that he was responsible for her misery. Quickly, he re-gathere
d his wits, then strode up to the table and stopped a foot from it.

  She glanced up, her brown eyes red from lack of sleep. “What do you want?” she asked coldly.

  "I ... I want to apologize for my actions yesterday,” he said, hating the guilt that seared through him.

  She dipped back in the seat, her gaze suspicious. “Really?"

  He nodded, and rubbed the back of his neck as discomfort lodged in his heart. “I was wrong and am sorry if I ... violated your trust."

  She snorted. “If? You know, you have some nerve. I might be grateful you saved me the other day, but I'm not that grateful. You stole my mirror, shot me and tried to push your luck in the library. Ever since I met you, you've been nothing but trouble. I just want to go home."

  He opened his mouth to reply, but the soft sound of a woman's gasp flittered through his mind. The musky scent of sex filled his nostrils, and it was then he knew the depths to which he'd fallen.

  Dane's hands clenched at the fury that rose within him. His counterpart taunted him with the image of her in his embrace. He'd touched her in a way he would only dream. As one of the Magi, celibacy was required. Never had he thought to indulge in his physical wants, and yet his counterpart had taken immediate advantage. He didn't know why this time he was privy to the actions committed while he'd been blacked out, but he knew this didn't bode well for him. The melding had begun despite his best efforts, and he didn't know how long he had.

  He raked at hand through his hair, caught between the desire to explain what was going on with him and the need to keep her at a distance. He opened his mouth to speak, but the piercing tones of a siren broke through the silence.

  He jerked around, and his gaze shot toward the skies. Winged paredriis spattered the skies in the distance. They had found them. He snapped his head back to Jamilah, who stood, her eyes wide with fear. They had come for her.

  Chapter Five

  This was a nightmare! Jamilah stood, taking in the line of ... birdmen that came toward the center. People around her screamed over the screech of birds and ran for cover. Frozen to the spot, she could only stare aghast as several hundred creatures landed. With the heads of large eagles and claws for hands, they resembled the image of Horus on the walls of Egypt, with one clear difference. They were out to destroy.