Pyramid of the Gods

by J. R. Rain

  PYRAMID OF THE GODS

  Nick Caine #3

  by

  J.R. RAIN

  &

  AIDEN JAMES

  Acclaim for J.R. Rain and Aiden James:

  “Gripping, adventurous, and romantic—J.R. Rain’s The Lost Ark is a breakneck thriller that traces the thread of history from Biblical stories to current-day headlines. Be prepared to lose sleep!”

  —James Rollins, international bestselling author of Bloodline

  “Aiden James has written a deeply psychological, gripping tale that keeps the readers hooked from page one.”

  —Bookfinds on The Forgotten Eden

  “J.R. Rain delivers a blend of action and wit that always entertains. Quick with the one-liners, but his characters are fully fleshed out (even the undead ones) and you’ll come back again and again.”

  —Scott Nicholson, bestselling author of After: The Shock

  “The intense writing style of Aiden James kept my eyes glued to the story and the pages seemed to fly by at warp speed. Twists, turns, and surprises pop up at random times to keep the reader off balance. It all blends together to create one of the best stories I have read all year.”

  —Huntress Reviews for The Devil’s Paradise

  Other Books by J.R. Rain

  STANDALONE NOVELS

  The Lost Ark

  The Body Departed

  Elvis Has Not Left the Building

  Silent Echo

  Bound By Blood

  Judas Silver: An Adventure Novel

  Lost Eden: An Adventure Novel

  VAMPIRE FOR HIRE

  Moon Dance

  Vampire Moon

  American Vampire

  Moon Child

  Christmas Moon

  Vampire Dawn

  Vampire Games

  Moon Island

  Moon River

  Vampire Sun

  SAMANTHA MOON

  SHORT STORY COLLECTIONS

  Teeth

  Vampire Nights

  Vampires Blues

  Vampire Dreams

  Halloween Moon

  Vampire Gold

  Blue Moon

  Vampire Requiem

  THE WITCHES SERIES

  The Witch and the Gentleman

  The Witch and the Angel

  JIM KNIGHTHORSE

  Dark Horse

  The Mummy Case

  Hail Mary

  Clean Slate

  NICK CAINE

  with Aiden James

  Temple of the Jaguar

  Treasure of the Deep

  Pyramid of the Gods

  Curse of the Druids

  THE SPINOZA TRILOGY

  The Vampire With the Dragon Tattoo

  The Vampire Who Played Dead

  The Vampire in the Iron Mask

  THE GRAIL QUEST TRILOGY

  Arthur

  Merlin

  Lancelot

  THE ALADDIN TRILOGY

  with Piers Anthony

  Aladdin Relighted

  Aladdin Sins Bad

  Aladdin and the Flying Dutchman

  THE WALKING PLAGUE TRILOGY

  with Elizabeth Basque

  Zombie Patrol

  Zombie Rage

  Zombie Mountain

  THE SPIDER TRILOGY

  with Scott Nicholson and H.T. Night

  Bad Blood

  Spider Web

  Spider Bite

  COLLABORATIONS

  Cursed (with Scott Nicholson)

  The Vampire Club (with Scott Nicholson)

  Ghost College (with Scott Nicholson)

  Dragon Assassin (with Piers Anthony)

  Dolfin Tayle (with Piers Anthony)

  Daughters of Eve (with P.J. Day)

  Zombie Party: Stories (with P.J. Day)

  Hear No Evil (with A.K. Alexander)

  Other Books by Aiden James

  The Actuator (with James Wymore)

  The Serendipitous Curse (with Lisa Collicut)

  JUDAS CHRONICLES

  Plague of Coins

  Reign of Coins

  Destiny of Coins

  The Dragon Coin

  DYING OF THE DARK SERIES

  The Vampires’ Last Lover

  The Vampires’ Birthright

  Blood Princesses of the Vampires

  Scarlet Legacy of the Vampires

  NICK CAINE SERIES

  with J.R. Rain

  Temple of the Jaguar

  Treasure of the Deep

  Pyramid of the Gods

  Curse of the Druids

  TALISMAN CHRONICLES

  The Forgotten Eden

  The Devil’s Paradise

  Hurakan’s Chalice

  CADES COVE SERIES

  Cades Cove

  The Raven Mocker

  GHOSTHUNTERS 101 SERIES

  Deadly Night

  The Ungrateful Dead

  JUDAS REFLECTIONS SERIES

  with Michelle Wright

  The Whitechapel Murders

  Curse of Stigmata

  Pyramid of the Gods

  Copyright © 2012 by J.R. Rain and Aiden James

  All rights reserved.

  Ebook Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Pyramid of the Gods

  Chapter One

  The Great Sand Sea in Egypt,

  Near the Sudan border

  Present Day

  Moonlight bathed the forgotten landscape, and I surveyed the vast ocean of sand before me. We would hopefully reach our general destination in the morning. I say ‘general’ for a reason. A damned good reason.

  I’ve got a map, handed down through several generations of my buddy Mario Thomas’s family. The Romanian side of the family, that is. For those following my story, you might recall that I mentioned how Mario and I attended UCLA together, and we often talked about the map. Shortly after graduation, we journeyed to Egypt with dreams of claiming the infinite gold hidden beneath these very sands.

  We never made it. Well, that’s not exactly true. We made it to the general area, and as we began our excavation of what we thought was the most logical spot for the legendary Hittite tunnels buried for centuries, a heartless villain named Leo Da Vinci showed up with his henchmen. Both Mario and I were still wet behind the ears, in terms of understanding what a map worth millions of dollars in gold pieces could mean to such a man.

  Mario died wearing a nervous smile, scarcely believing this man named after the greatest thinker in history was a cold-blooded killer. After all, the two of them had shared a jovial conversation outside the ministry’s office in Cairo. When Mario revealed our plans to stake a claim near the eastern edge of Libya’s sprawling desert, he unknowingly sealed his fate. Our fate. A single bullet shredded my buddy’s brain, and I was forced to bury his corpse in the sand at gunpoint.

  I thought I’d die, too, and something inside did die. The small part of me believing in the inherent decency of mankind—despite witnessing my parents’ brutal murder as a child in Sudan, two hundred miles south of where I presently stood—shriveled up for good that day.

  Not that I don’t carry compassion for others, as many of you know. Entrusting my heart to the care of others, however, is another matter entirely.

  “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” said Marie.

  Yes, another Da Vinci, though completely unlike her reviled uncle. Her deep blue eyes, rounded like a doe’s, glistened in the firelight from the nearby camp. The small gold flecks in her irises seemed to capture and hold the fire’s heat. She slipped a hand inside my right one, since my left hand remained occupied with my last
cigarette of the night. We would be retiring soon, with another day’s travel deeper into the desert set to commence at dawn.

  “It’s all right, I guess.”

  “What are you thinking about, hon?” She snuggled closer, peering into my face. Perhaps Marie glimpsed my inner war sparked by the minister of foreign affairs giving clearances with nary a question about our dig’s ramifications. It was too clean, too sterile, and too damned easy. “Can you imagine what this place was like when rivers flowed through it four thousand years ago?”

  I smiled in response. It was more like thirty-two hundred years ago. But, why quibble over a difference in scientific interpretation of scattered ruins throughout the region?

  “I wish it’s what I’ve been thinking about,” I said, finding it hard to resist those eyes...or her natural pouting lips. The promise of passion lay on the horizon. “What if we can’t find it?”

  “The site you and Mario uncovered?”

  “And, shortly thereafter, the site your dear Uncle Leo exploited in our absence.” Ouch. It’s not what I wanted to say. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be so harsh.”

  “It’s okay.” Her voice revealed the wound I just inflicted. “If your uncle tried to kill me twice, I might think the same thing. Don’t forget Uncle Leo intended to murder me, too, and he is my father’s killer.”

  She literally shuddered. Damn, we all had some serious issues.

  “May he find a phalanx of horny demon bubbas in Hell, with a fondness for sharp objects.” I pulled her closer, hating the fact our shared hurts were part of the glue that held us together as a...couple? No, too early for that. An ‘item’, perhaps, wrapped in shared personality deficiencies. Two screwed up people hoping to make a dysfunctional romance last. “I suppose Ishi and Akiiki are trying to get some sleep.”

  “Early start.” She motioned to their darkened tent across from ours. “Akiiki seems the most anxious to get on with it.”

  “We’ll see about that. Say, did you try any of his honey liquor?”

  “What, that mead shit he brought with him?”

  “I guess you didn’t care for it either, huh?”

  “No. But he and Ishi seem to like it.”

  We shared a good laugh, and she tugged my arm to come join her in our tent. The promise of intimacy was there...but the only intimacy I desired was with my thoughts. My tortured memories from my last visit. I didn’t expect them to be this strong. Nor did I anticipate the weight of my buddy’s ghost weighing heavily on my heart.

  I told Marie I’d join her in a moment. She seemed to understand my immediate need for solitude, and her serene smile as she stepped into the tent told me forgiveness for my brush off was readily available, provided I didn’t linger outside too long.

  I returned my attention to the desert’s vast, sand-filled emptiness, glowing softly beneath a full moon. Somewhere, in a ten-mile radius, the treasure I’d dreamed of most for the past decade lay camouflaged by drifting sand. The gold of the Hittites, to whom legends asserted had taken it from the vaults of a temple—one belonging to Sekhmet. Some of the stories told of how the gold carried a curse, and was eventually returned to the plundered realm of the lioness goddess, as shattered men sought forgiveness and her mercy.

  Thomas used to joke about a legend concerning the thieves, as apparently very few who made it to the deepest sanctum of the temple lived to talk about it. The same legend said Sekhmet killed them. “What a bunch of dumbasses!” he’d say. I missed the way he laughed, so carefree and holding the confidence of a guy who had never lost at anything: sports, women, and even wagers at the local pool hall.

  My take on the legend? The greedy dumbasses never took the time to check for booby traps and other hazards. Looting is an art...perhaps even a lost one. My only regret in this profession is the loss of those closest to me.

  Maybe my melancholy had much less to do with losing Thomas, and more to do with people still among the living, whom I cared about. People I cherished deeply...like Marie and Ishi. What would happen if I couldn’t protect them?

  “Protect them from what?” I whispered.

  A soft breeze from the west embraced me. Expecting the region’s summer warmth, I was surprised by the coolness caressing my bare skin.

  I shivered.

  Whether harmless or a warning, I finished my cigarette and flicked the butt into the drift nearest to me. The sand would claim the fag’s glowing tip before I made it to the tent and Marie’s warm embrace.

  Chapter Two

  “Get up!”

  Ishi’s voice forced me from a troubling dream, his Tawankan accent giving me the rope necessary to pull me out. Despite trying to desperately cling to fleeting images, the dream was gone before I wiped my eyes. My Honduran buddy grinned mischievously as he stood in the doorway to Marie’s and my tent. Startled, she quickly pulled up the bedroll to cover her nakedness.

  “What time is it, man?” My mouth felt like sandpaper.

  “Time to get going—that’s what time it is!” said Akiiki, peering over Ishi’s shoulder. His dark ebony features were obscured in the early morning dimness. But his light blue eyes bore a discernible glint of mischief enhanced by his pearly whites. “We told you, Mr. Nick, we would come to wake you at dawn...so here we are!”

  “So it seems.” I looked over at Marie, pulling the bedroll up around her neck, as if it would make her any less naked beneath the covers. I wanted to ravish her right then—sans the audience, of course. “How much time do we have before you two become a bigger nuisance?” I asked them.

  “Meaning what, Boss?” said Ishi, feigning a wound to his feelings. “Perhaps we should leave you two here and come get you once we find the site, eh?”

  “We’re coming!”

  Marie and I looked at each other, chuckling after responding in near unison.

  “Good. Akiiki and I will cook breakfast.”

  The pair disappeared from view, allowing the dawn’s faint light to creep into the tent.

  “Christ, what time is it?” I asked her, while hurriedly pulling on my trousers and reaching for my shirt.

  “I’ve got eleven minutes past five,” she replied, after checking the time on her latest iPhone. An expensive paperweight, since the telephone guys had yet to put a single cell tower in this part of the desert. Yeah, a little cynicism to start the day off right. “And if we’re going to get out of here by six, then we’ll need to get a move on it!”

  “Fine, fine. You don’t have to yell.” I grabbed the new tan fedora she’d bought me in Cairo. How Indy of her. “See you in a few.”

  “You’re not waiting for me?” She sounded alarmed, and yet looked adorable in the glow of the flashlight by her pillow. She was losing the fight to shelter her breasts, and motioned for me to turn around. “I hate being the only one walking into someplace late!”

  “Then I suggest you hurry, darlin’,” I smiled playfully at her. “Yesterday’s clothes will do, and no need to powder up, since it’s just a campfire we’re attending.”

  She threw a sandal at me, but her terrible aim brought only more chuckles. I waited for her outside the tent, and, after contributing what I could to the desert’s near nonexistent ecosystem, I enjoyed the coming sunrise with the day’s first cigarette.

  “So, Mr. Nick...Ishi tells me you don’t think the previous place you looked for the Hittites’ gold is the correct one,” said Akiiki, once we finished eating in silence. The sun crept into the eastern horizon, and as it did so, the temperature felt like it rose twenty degrees. It would be a scorcher by mid-morning. “We are within two miles of that point, according to your map and what the ministry confirmed Leonardo laid claim to, nearly twelve years ago. But you wish to pursue another course?”

  Akiiki Mubarek carried a quiet confidence that kept me waiting to see if he was as adept a guide as Marie had asserted he was, two days ago, when we first arrived in Cairo. Or, was he just a refined bullshitter, who had honed his skills for years on unsuspecting tourists in the region? Marie t
old Ishi and me that Akiiki once worked for her father. She met him as a young girl, when her father made a purchase on behalf of the Museum of Science in Boston, where they lived at the time.

  Akiiki later aided Antonio Da Vinci, Marie’s father, on several expeditions in the northern Egyptian deserts, as well as procuring the best values available in the antiquities black market. Yet, as impressive as the man’s resume seemed, his most unique quality was in his appearance. Marie told us Akiiki was pushing sixty, and yet his hair remained jet black, and I could only detect slight laugh-lines in his youthful face. He could pass for a man half that age.

  Must be some formaldehyde in that unfiltered Nile water, I mused, looking at him again.

  “Yes, I do,” I told him. “Mario and I never looked beyond the marker to see if anything else could pass for the site. And, as far as I know, Leo never found the gold.”

  “But he had the map at one time, correct?”

  “He had a copy of the map, as the only smart thing we did was leave the original hidden with our bags at the hotel.” I found myself hating this conversation, as it threatened to reopen unhealed wounds. “If Leo Da Vinci had the brains and foresight to kill me back then, he likely would’ve recovered the original map at some point. Regardless, I believe he never found the gold. Otherwise, I doubt I would’ve had the good fortune to watch him die in Honduras.”

  “In the Temple of the Jaguar?”

  “Yes.”

  We packed up our gear and headed deeper into the desert, our Jeep’s wheels repeatedly getting stuck in the shifting sand. It happened enough times to where Ishi joked traveling by camel would’ve been a better option.

  But the worse part was trying to survey what amounted to sixty square miles looking for the right place to begin our excavation. Hell, we didn’t find mine and Mario’s fateful locale until well after lunch. The original locale.