Crescent Moon

by Delilah Devlin

  Juste reached out to clap a hand on Khepri’s shoulder to halt her. A shiver of dread worked its way down his back. He didn’t like this. It didn’t feel right.

  Khepri aimed a glare at him and shook off his hand, turning then to study her foe. “Dr. Felton,” she said, her voice soft but firm. “Do you remember me?”

  “Of course I do. You were in the conference room when your boyfriend interrogated my team.”

  Her head tilted. “You know why I’ve come?”

  “You wish to interfere with my work.” He bent his head and resumed scratching the paper with a pencil. “I must catalog every detail. Display every artifact I find, the position of the bodies, the bones…”

  “There are no artifacts here. No bodies, no bones.”

  “Of course there are. Or will be.” He raised his head again. “This moment must be recorded. The names preserved. There is power in names. Power in the written word. You know that, Amun’s wife. Do you not want that power when you stand before Anubis to be judged?”

  “Dr. Felton, which name do you record for yourself?”

  “Why, the one I was given before the stars shone in the heavens.” His smile widened, his teeth gleaming yellow in the firelight. “I am Selk. Say my name.”

  Khepri shook her head. “You are the nameless one. A common murderer. You committed infanticide, burned your children and your wives. You will go to the Hall of Two Truths to be judged for your sins.”

  “My name is Selk; say it,” he said, his voice lowering into a thin, rasping whisper.

  Khepri pulled back her shoulders. “You have no name; you will not know your face in the afterlife. No death mask will mark your bones for you to find.”

  He put down the notebook and stood. Firelight gleamed around the edges of his body, limning him in light.

  As Juste stared, his outline blurred, moved, and suddenly small creatures detached themselves, crawling from him, to scatter across the floor, their tiny legs causing the sand to shiver and their tails wagging high above their bodies.

  Juste sucked in a breath. Scorpions!

  Knowing that a dozen bites might not kill them, but so many would be deadly, he held still, watching as Khepri glanced back, a small smile curving her mouth, telling him silently to trust. He remembered the way she’d handled the single scorpion they’d brought from the dead security guard’s trailer, how it had traveled up and down her skin without striking. The thought didn’t give him comfort. There were so many of them. Hundreds.

  Khepri showed not a moment’s apprehension. She hummed, lifting her arms at her sides. The scorpions swarmed toward her, but she didn’t move; they climbed her legs, her torso, but she never flinched. They covered her head.

  He glanced at Mikey, whose face was screwed up in a horrible frown, but who looked to him to take his cue. Although he wanted to leap forward, to sweep the creatures from her skin, he knew that was precisely what the bastard standing in front of them grinning gleefully expected.

  When Khepri’s knees seemed to buckle from the weight of the mass surrounding her, she stepped forward. A bright flame burst outward from her body, encompassing her entire frame.

  The scorpions fell, their crispy bodies rattling on the ground around her. She was untouched, not a single singed hair, although her clothing was ashes. Only the necklace with the golden ankh remained on her.

  Selk’s smile fell. “A nice trick, but you were not born a god. You are not impervious.”

  Khepri stepped closer.

  Juste moved too, meeting a barrier. He spread his hands and pushed, but it didn’t move. “Dammit, Khepri, take it down.”

  She glanced back, a small, sad smile curving her mouth. “You should leave now. You cannot watch.”

  He shook his head, fisting his hand to pound on the invisible wall she’d erected. “Don’t do this, Khepri. There’s always a way. We’ll find it. We can take him. He’s just a man!”

  “I love you, Justin Henry Boucher.” Her golden-brown eyes glistened, and she gave him a sweet smile. And then she turned to the monster in front of her, who raised a weapon he had pulled from the back of his waistband.

  Inside, Juste froze. Like the night Bobby Guidry had died, he was powerless to stop this. “Not her,” he whispered. “God, please, not her too.” But God wasn’t listening.

  Dr. Felton fired a single shot, which exited Khepri’s slender back, spray spattering the invisible wall, the bullet thudding dully then bouncing away.

  “No!” Juste bent and pushed with all his might against the wall, but it didn’t move. He watched, horror roiling through him.

  Her figure swayed, but she remained erect, walking slowly toward Selk, who shook his head and fired again. Her body jerked, but she took another step and opened her arms. She wrapped them tightly around Selk, who fought her, struggling to free himself.

  Flames billowed from between them, Selk’s clothing catching fire, his face blistering in an instant.

  The glow was so bright, Juste lifted a hand to shield his eyes. “No, no, no!”

  He blinked. And in the second he opened his eyes again, the spatter of blood was gone. But so were the two struggling figures. He bounded forward, searching the cave with a quick glance, but both Dr. Felton and Khepri were gone.

  The ground beneath his feet rumbled. Sand sifted from the ceiling.

  Mikey gripped his shoulder. “We have to get out of here.”

  Juste shook his head, his feet planted.

  “The cave’s comin’ down around us.”

  Juste gazed at him, his shoulders slumped. What was the point? “Then go.”

  “I’m not leavin’ without you.” Mikey’s face pulled into a scowl, and he raised a fist, slamming it against Juste’s jaw.

  Juste saw stars for just a moment, and then darkness enfolded him.

  Chapter Thirty

  The flames stung her skin and sucked away her breath. But still, Khepri held the writhing body in her arms. If she had to hold him for an eternity like this, cleaving like a river leech to his skin, she would. The moment she’d faced his innocuous figure, bent over his notebook, a memory had triggered as she’d smelled the noxious fumes of the Fire Lake, knowing he’d somehow crawled from his cruel fate, forever tainted. Once singed by those fires, his soul was no longer his to keep, no longer human or simply his, because many souls of the wretched had joined his, all bent on wreaking revenge, lending Selk their combined strength.

  Juste had said he was only a man, but he was more than that. More than just the man who’d murdered in his greed for power. Once again, he’d bartered his way out of fate. Who knew what allies he had? She couldn’t allow him to return to the living world, not to a prison cell that would never hold him. Her task, her quest, had always been to bring him back.

  She’d known that in a flash of insight when she’d faced him. Amun had known that too. It was why he’d left, so that she wouldn’t plead with him to intervene. So that she’d remain strong, following the path she’d always been destined to follow.

  Straight into the arms of death.

  Her breath gone, her lungs squeezed of every last breath, she sobbed. The fire flickered out. Her strength seeped away. The body in her arms fell to the ground, Dr. Felton’s form unrecognizable beneath the blistered skin, but still alive. The shallow breaths that raised his rib cage were painful to watch.

  She glanced away, not surprised to find herself inside the torchlit Hall of Two Truths, at the bottom of the steps leading up to the dais. She was nude, but a glance at her belly, hands, and legs told her she was unharmed by the blasts from Selk’s weapon or the intense fire she’d controlled.

  The hall was filled to capacity. All the curious gods and their minions had assembled to watch the final act. Anubis, his jackal’s ears pricked and erect, stood beside the tall, gold set of scales.

  Shuddering, she swept her gaze along the row of gods seated in their gilt and jewel-encrusted thrones, landing on Amun, whose expression was set and unreadable.

&
nbsp; The door to the side swept open and Ammit, in her animal form, lumbered in. Her head lowered toward the ground and she opened her jaws, hissing loudly. As she neared, Khepri noted the lanced eye, still split in the center. She was half-blind and in pain.

  Khepri glanced at Amun, not voicing her question over Ammit’s condition, because she was afraid to ask the second question: Was she here to devour two hearts or one?

  His expression unyielding, Amun steepled his fingers, touching his beard. “Her wounds will not be healed until she is repentant. She broke with our rules. She interfered. But she must feed.”

  Khepri noted he answered only the first question. Her heart began to thud dully in her chest.

  Anubis knelt beside Selk’s still body and plunged his hand into his chest, withdrawing it to hold a blackened heart, which he carried to the scales. The gold plate dropped, shifting the feather on the other side. It wafted upward, but then landed on the plate. The scale didn’t dip.

  “Again, you have been judged,” Anubis said, aiming a glare at Ammit, whose wide, leonine shoulders fell.

  His tone, his glare, said that she had been judged as well.

  When Anubis tossed the heart at her as though she were a dog playing catch, Ammit didn’t quibble; she opened her mouth and swallowed it whole. Then she gave a hiss and turned her good eye on Khepri.

  Khepri lifted her chin as she stared down the beast whose upper torso tensed beneath golden fur.

  But Ammit didn’t leap toward Khepri. Instead, she lowered her head, opened her mouth, and clamped down on Selk’s shoulders, ignoring his feeble whimpers and turning to carry him away.

  “He will never rise again,” Amun said. “You did well, wife.”

  Khepri shook her head, stubborn pride lifting her chin. “Do not call me that. You released me. You cannot take me back.”

  The corners of his mouth curved. “I would not place you at my feet, but would make room for you beside me, little warrior. You have earned your place among us.”

  Tears pricked her eyes. “I no longer aspire to be your wife. Or to rule over any inch of the Duat.”

  “What is it you want?”

  Tears seeped from her eyes. “You know what I want. You can still read my heart.”

  His eyes studied her for a moment, and then he cast his gaze down the long row of chairs. One by one, the gods seated on the dais nodded. When he turned back to her, he wore a faint, sad smile. “One last gift will I bequeath you, dearest.”

  Her breath caught, hope flaring to lift her chest. Her gaze locked with his, one last time.

  Remember me, little warrior.

  Always, my husband. My friend.

  Before her next breath, the light dimmed—and suddenly she was in water and drowning. Too tired to swim. Was this a punishment? What of the gift he’d promised? She sank…down…down. Darkness all around her. Despair freezing her mind. Once more, she was robbed of breath. Of life. What have I done to deserve this? Have I not fulfilled my destiny?

  At the moment she surrendered, arms wrapped around her. Strong, muscled arms, pulling her upward. The moment they broke the surface, she gasped. Above her, a golden moon shone.

  She blinked, clearing her vision, and coughed, choking on water, but Justin surged upward, holding her in his arms as he strode out of the water and laid her gently on the soft, grassy bank, where he proceeded to sweep her belly with his hands, then turned her to the side to do the same to her back.

  Reaching up, she touched his face. “I am healed, Justin.”

  Justin’s chest shuddered up and down, but he nodded, his throat working around a hard swallow. He leaned away, stripping off his white shirt, and quickly tugged it over her head to cover her nude body. And then he lay beside her, gasping for breath, his fingers entangling with hers. “I thought I’d lost you.”

  “Never,” she whispered, turning her head to meet his fierce gaze.

  “I believe now.”

  She smiled. “That we are meant to be?”

  “That there’s justice in this world. And predestiny. I’ll never question it again.”

  Khepri swallowed hard. “I love you.”

  His eyes squeezed shut, and when they opened, there were tears mingling with the water glistening on his cheeks. “I love you too.”

  Smiling at each other, they ignored the sounds of the men moving around them, gathering gear, of the sirens growing ever nearer. Forrester’s voice shouted above the din, but she didn’t care enough to wonder what he said. It didn’t matter. He didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except that she was here, where she belonged, basking in the moonlight with the man her husband had chosen for her.

  Thank you, husband.

  You are very welcome, my dear.

  Many hours later, Juste carried Khepri through his apartment door. She’d been exhausted by their ordeal and then by the endless rounds of questioning they’d endured. Forrester had been livid, thinking they’d let a killer slip through their fingers because no bodies had been retrieved. The sheik had arrived at Maines’s office, sweeping aside Forrester’s and the lieutenant’s protests when he’d declared his team was leaving, without being interrogated, and that justice had been served. His steady glare told both men that no further details would be shared. “You will have no more trouble from the professor or those he convinced to help him in his quest to kill my niece.”

  “We don’t do things that way,” Forester had muttered.

  “You may search and search, but you will never find your answers. Not in your lifetime.” The sheik had smiled, and then stood in front of Khepri long enough to convey the silent message that she should accompany them, and then they were off.

  Mikey and Juste had been left with explanations that began and ended with, “Haddara’s team had everything wrapped up by the time we got there.”

  “How come everyone wound up in the water?” Maines had asked, a vein popping on his forehead.

  “Felton tossed Khepri in the water,” Juste said, keeping his expression neutral.

  “You didn’t see where they took him?”

  “Nah. They were gone by the time I’d fished her out.” He’d held Maines’s stare a long moment before the other man blinked.

  “I want both your reports before you leave.”

  As Mikey and Juste left his office to find desks, Juste shot Mikey a look. “Thanks, buddy.”

  “For what?”

  “For having my back.”

  A long while later, he’d arrived at the sheik’s suite to find Khepri fully clothed and nearly passing out from fatigue.

  “I shall miss my friend, Haddara,” the sheik said, escorting them both to the door.

  Juste arched an eyebrow. “You do know who he was, right?”

  The sheik touched the side of his nose and winked. “The man never aged. What do you think, detective?” He turned to Khepri and bowed. “To have seen the things you’ve seen…” He sighed.

  “I will tell you all about it, or at least what I remember. We are the ones who must write the stories, remember their names…”

  The sheik’s smile had been boyish, delighted. “I will be in touch.”

  Juste shouldered open the bathroom door and bent to set Khepri on the closed toilet seat. “Hang tough for a second, cher. I’m runnin’ you a bath.”

  She blinked sleepy eyes at him. “Only if you’re in there with me.”

  Gritting his teeth, Juste smiled, knowing she was too tired to follow the direction of his thoughts. He’d give her a bath, let her get some rest, but soon, very soon, he’d have what he needed most from her—sweet, sweet release from the fear and worry he’d harbored all damn night. Yeah, Khepri owed him big-time.

  In the early morning hours, Juste came awake. A hand was slithering over his lower belly, heading straight into dangerous territory. He slid a hand beneath the sheets and captured a wrist, and then quickly rolled, trapping Khepri’s warm, naked body beneath his. He snagged the other wrist and moved them to rest beside her head.

>   “So you are awake as well?” she said, her voice deliciously husky.

  Juste grunted, centered a knee between her legs, and widened the space with not-so-gentle nudges. “Not the time for talkin’.”

  Laughter trilled. A carefree sound he’d never heard from her. Juste stared down at her, realizing this was real. That Khepri was here. Alive, beneath him. And he was never going to let her go. “It’s not polite to laugh at a man intent on havin’ sex.”

  “Having sex.” Her dark brows rose. “I like that phrase. It’s coarse, but accurate. I suppose it saves words.”

  “I could use fewer words and still get the message across. Might make you blush though.”

  “I would like to learn them, but another time. Please?”

  “Since you asked so nicely…” Juste bent his head and kissed her, taking her mouth in a ravenous kiss. Bathing her while she’d rested quietly against his chest had nearly killed him. He’d gone to sleep with a hard-on. And he’d awoken in the same state.

  He nudged her with his sex; she opened to him, her thighs spreading and lifting to grip his hips. He plunged inside, sweeping his tongue into her mouth at the same time. Taking her, claiming her in the only way he knew how.

  Their bodies slid together, entering that timeless rhythm, soothing and exciting each other, until the moment neither could catch a breath and pleasure erupted.

  Juste nuzzled the corner of her shoulder. “I promised myself I’d take it slow this time, kiss every inch of you, show you how much—”

  “You love me?” Khepri nudged his face up with her fingertips and then cupped either side of his face. “I know. I feel the same way about you. Amun gave me my greatest wish. To return here.”

  Juste kissed her mouth, a quick peck, and then settled on his elbows above her. “I know you have a lot to learn. That you’re still…new to this world. Maybe you’ll need some space, some time to sort it all out, but I’m here for you.”

  A frown dug a line between her brows. “Do you want this…space?”

  “Hell no, but I don’t want you to think that just because I helped you, that you owe me anything.”