Conquer the Dark

by L. A. Banks

  “Dat is Ramses the second,” Isda said, taking a bow. “Wait till you see inside the Hypostyle Hall—every room carved from the rock where it stood—they went in there and carved because what’s inside is bigger than the doors … and they followed such strict mathematics that on his birthday the sun rises on his face! Without fail! Every equinox the sun rises on a different aspect of him when it comes up over the horizon, through the front doors, down the long corridor to the holy of holies, and bam.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Bath Kol said, nodding as the group pressed on. “Angels definitely had a hand in that.”

  “You think?” Aziza said, completely awestruck like everyone else.

  “But we must hurry,” Kadeem said, beginning to run.

  Following him to the front doors was like running the length of two football stadiums. The ancients definitely did things on a grand scale, and the more Celeste thought about it as she ran, everything they’d built seemed as though it was designed to be seen from an aerial view. Now it was all beginning to make sense. What if a bunch of fallen angels clashing with angels of the Light had been the ancient extraterrestrials the hard-boiled alien-conspiracy theorists were trying to prove existed?

  But the stitch in her side and the unrelenting heat made her abandon random musing. By the time they’d reached the massive thirty-foot-high front doors of the temple, she was gulping air to catch her breath.

  “Where is the normal key keeper?” Kadeem said, panicking.

  A suspicious guard frowned and then regarded the group. Kadeem thrust tickets into his hand with a sizable tip. The guard smiled and produced a two-foot-long brass key in the shape of an ankh and handed it to Celeste with a smile.

  The two men exchanged a flurry of Arabic, then the man seemed to recognize that they didn’t want a picture taken at this late hour with the temple’s main-door key, but were looking for the man who normally stood there.

  “He is smoking. We must find him and hope he doesn’t leave to go home early,” Kadeem said, jostling them forward past the last of the tourists.

  Quickly passing the massive interior columns, Ka-deem became frantic, circled a corridor twice, then dashed back out in the opposite direction.

  “He is a good man, a religious man, and respects the temples of the ancestors. If he is smoking, it would not be inside, where the other guards like to take their breaks.”

  Crossing the massive courtyard in the opposite direction, Kadeem headed toward the Nile, and a white, hot concrete meditation deck with a series of benches. The small lunch area was fenced in so one could overlook the water without falling in. A lone guard sat in the waning sun with his back toward them staring out at the water. No tourists seemed ready to brave the unshaded Egyptian sun when a naturally stone-cooled temple was just a couple of football-field lengths away.

  Kadeem stopped for a second, placed a hand over his heart, then resumed running as he called out, “Muneer! Muneer! It is Kadeem—Daoud’s brother!”

  “Kadeem?” The man named Muneer turned, stood, abandoned his weapon on the bench, and flung down his cigarette butt to embrace Kadeem.

  After a warm reunion with Muneer in their mother tongue, Kadeem turned to the group behind him and spoke to Muneer in English. “So that my friends understand … and they are also friends to Daoud. Do not be worried, I was not tricked. These are not bad men. They are angels.”

  An expression between pity and despair crossed Muneer’s sad, dark expression. “I miss him, too, Kadeem, but we must not allow wishes to replace reality.” Muneer sighed, then regarded the group with a hard frown. “It is not right to trick a grieving man. Have you no heart?”

  “Block me, so we don’t panic this whole complex of tourists,” Azrael said to Isda, and stripped off his shirt. Azrael then looked at Kadeem as Muneer moved for his AK-47. The guard had spotted the nine-millimeter Azrael was carrying and had obviously jumped to conclusions. “I hope your man has a strong heart, because we obviously do not have time for Celeste’s gentle preamble. I would just appreciate not getting shot right now.”

  Kadeem held his friend’s arm gently to lower it. “Trust me, what you will see is Daoud’s dream. Do not harm these beings sent from Allah.”

  Azrael spread his wings. “Yeah … Allah, Yahweh, Jehovah, God, the Source of All That Is, Buddha … the Most High has a lot of names, and we don’t have time to go into all of that at the moment. What we need and would appreciate is your cooperation.”

  Kadeem caught his friend as the man covered his heart and his legs gave out. Azrael walked over to him and turned around, giving Muneer a full, close-up view of his wings.

  “They’re real.”

  Celeste went to Azrael as Isda helped Kadeem sit Muneer down easy on a bench.

  “Baby, back off,” she said, touching Azrael’s shoulder. “I knew we should have brought some water off the bus.”

  “Here,” Aziza said, digging in her large, tie-dyed shoulder satchel and producing an unopened bottle of water for Muneer. Who was clearly too terrified to accept it.

  The poor man just sat there, looking shell-shocked. His jaw was slack, his limbs floppy, and he seemed to be on the verge of actually passing out.

  Azrael retracted his wings and yanked his shirt over his head. “So, are we good?”

  “Man, you don’t do subtle, do you?” Bath Kol said with a half smile.

  “Not when the sun will set soon,” Azrael replied, glancing at the horizon.

  “Our brother’s got a point,” Gavreel said, then sat down beside Muneer, who looked to be on the verge of both weeping and running screaming across the courtyard. “Let me conduct a little peace into his spirit.”

  “Make it do what it do, mon,” Isda said as he held Muneer still long enough for Gavreel to grasp his head between his palms.

  Slowly but surely Muneer relaxed, then looked up at all the brothers and nodded. He pulled a long metal dogtag chain up and out of his guard’s uniform, and on the end of it was a heavy, beautifully engraved sterling-silver key in the shape of an ankh.

  “Daoud saved my son,” Muneer said in a rasp, and finally accepted Aziza’s water. He opened it and took a deep sip, never loosing eye contact with the group. “I promised him that I would never tell where he’d dropped the chest. I don’t know what’s in it. That never mattered to me. I told him that, just as I am the key keeper for Ramses’s temple, I will be the keeper of the key for him and will guard his treasure—whatever it is—just as well. I never broke my word to my friend. He was like my brother, and I fear the bad men took him and harmed him. Now, seeing an angel, I know this is so.”

  Tears wet Muneer’s handsome brown face, and he turned the ornate key over and over in his fingers as though it were a worry bead. “They killed him for what was in there, yes?”

  Both Kadeem and Azrael nodded sadly.

  Muneer quickly took off the chain and held it out to Kadeem. “Then this was no treasure; it was a curse if it took a good man’s life. I want no more to do with it. I sadly give you, as his next-oldest brother, your inheritance.”

  Kadeem closed his fist around the key and briefly shut his eyes. “I don’t fully understand what’s in there, either. But I know it belongs to the angels, not to me. Evil tried to find this and rob this from their temples.” He opened his eyes and Muneer nodded to him, then Kadeem handed Azrael the key. “I don’t know where it is in the Nile. The river runs from Uganda where it begins and flows up the continent all the way to the Mediterranean.”

  “I was there with him that day,” Muneer said quietly. “The chest was too heavy to lift alone. We went by sailboat to Philae Island and dropped it in the sacred waters by the restored Temple of Isis. Then he prayed over the water that demons would be blinded to its location forever.” Muneer looked up. “When he said demons, I thought he meant just bad men. When he said angels, I thought he spoke in … just hopes for goodness and protection to come from above. I never … I …”

  “It’s all right,” Celeste said, placing
a hand on Muneer’s shoulder. “Neither did I when I first saw one.”

  To the dismay of everyone on the bus except Kadeem and Muneer, their party had increased by another mortal man. But Kadeem’s and Muneer’s argument held weight. Muneer had a weapon, a pretty good one, which could be retrofitted with angel-blessed shells on the way. His AK-47 added to the arsenal of nine-millimeters the brothers carried in their waistbands. Every woman was packing now, too, just in case. Kadeem knew the driving terrain and could get to the small port quickly, plus the man was an expert at navigating the dangerous cataracts and eddies should they encounter any, in the Nile. Muneer, quite simply, knew where the treasure was dropped. That settled it.

  But two and a half hours to get to a place where they could acquire a vessel, a half hour of haggling and finding the right craft for the job—one that the owner would not come along on, with at least another hour on the water, put them at the very vulnerable hour past sunset. The brothers would have to go trawling for the chest in near blue-black river water.

  “It was right here,” Muneer said as Kadeem maneuvered the craft into position.

  Celeste’s gaze followed Muneer’s outstretched arm. Daoud couldn’t have picked a more beautiful resting place for the sacred tablet. Breathtaking temples nestled high on the steep banks of Syenite stone and kept watch over the Nile with graceful colonnades and tall pylons.

  With a weary sigh, Bath Kol started taking off his Timberlands, then stripped his shirt off and placed his gun on the boat bench. The other brothers followed suit, studying the ripples on the water and dark shoreline like Navy SEALs.

  “Be sure to light it up when we go down there,” Azrael warned, then slapped Paschar in the center of his chest with a broad palm. “You and Gav are boat security.” He gave the key that was on a long metal dog-tag chain back to Kadeem, looping it over his head, then pointed with two fingers toward Bath Kol and Isda. “You take port side, I’ll take starboard.”

  “And you ladies can hold it down with some serious prayer,” Bath Kol said, looking back at the darkening sky.

  “Done,” Aziza murmured, then slipped one hand into Celeste’s palm and another into Maggie’s. Maggie in turn grabbed Melissa’s hand.

  The three divers sat on the edge of opposite sides of the boat for a moment, then inhaled deeply and went over the side backward.

  “They don’t need oxygen?” Muneer said, amazed.

  “They’re angels,” Kadeem replied with confidence, but still peered over the side in awe.

  Balancing out their weight after their prayer, the women split into two groups to watch over the side of the vessel. Soon Celeste could see a blue-white glow moving under the water. The eerie light looked thoroughly extraterrestrial from where she stood, and she doubted any Nile crocs would go near the strange beings that had invaded their habitat.

  Bath Kol came up and sucked in a huge inhale but shook his head.

  “Told you to stop smoking,” Gavreel said, smiling.

  Bath Kol gave him the finger and went down again. Muneer stared at Kadeem, clearly shocked.

  “These angels aren’t the ones with harps and cherub’s cheeks,” Paschar said through a chuckle. “They may be colorful, but they get the job done.”

  More than forty-five minutes went by with the brothers intermittently surfacing for air, shaking their heads no, and diving again. Silent worry began to set in, and night rolled a blanket of dark-blue velvet over the sky, then punctuated the late hour with moonlight and twinkling stars.

  “Water can make things drift—” Kadeem said, accepting one of Muneer’s cigarettes.

  Nerves on end, Celeste looked at Kadeem’s cigarette as he took a drag, almost needing one herself. Three months clean felt like a lifetime.

  “I’ve got almonds in my bag,” Aziza said calmly, giving Celeste a meaningful look.

  “You wouldn’t happen to have a flask in there, too, would you?” Melissa said, lifting her hair off her neck.

  Maggie dropped forward to lean on her knees. “What if they can’t find it?”

  “Plan B, I guess,” Celeste said, staring at the lights in the water.

  “What’s Plan B?” Maggie looked up.

  “Armageddon,” Paschar said flatly.

  “Would you allow me to dispense the peace on the ship?” Gavreel said, punching Paschar in the arm.

  “Ow! Well, it’s the truth.” Paschar rubbed his arm.

  “Truth doesn’t always inspire peace, dude. So, if you can’t say something positive, just chill.”

  But as three lights flowed together under the surface of the water on Celeste’s side of the boat, she stood. “They’re coming up!”

  Chapter 19

  Bent over the side of the boat, her heart beating a mile a minute, expectation mixed with adrenaline, Celeste held her breath. The wind had kicked up, blowing the first cool breeze she’d felt since they’d arrived in Egypt. But the hair also stood up on the back of her neck.

  As the wind kicked up behind her, she glanced over her shoulder at the same time Gavreel, Paschar, and Aziza turned. In the distance small sand dervishes had begun to form on the steps of the temple, and an unnatural wind moved the lush palms and thick green foliage on the bank.

  Gavreel and Paschar went to the opposite side of the boat, straining to see, causing the others to divide their attention between the brothers coming up from beneath the water’s surface and the riverbank.

  “This happens all the time,” Muneer assured them. “Small sandstorms. This is the holy island of Philae, the Pearl of Egypt, and it is why Daoud chose this place.”

  “But the original island is the one that was holy. That one was flooded when they put in Aswan Dam. This one wasn’t the site of thousands of years of sacred prayers, so they must have had to put down prayers to protect it,” Ka-deem said quickly, glancing between the angel brothers and his friend Muneer. “The government dismantled the entire temple and rebuilt it here. If my brother dropped his chest here because he thought prayer of the land and water protected it, that barrier had been disturbed years ago. Tell me he consecrated the grounds again.”

  Gavreel and Paschar took one look at each other and then shouted in unison, “Incoming!”

  “Down, down, everybody get down!” Gavreel shouted, taking to the air with his nine-millimeter drawn.

  Paschar went up on the top of the boat’s pilothouse roof, guarding the human passengers with his gun and Bath Kol’s in his hands. But as soon as he had, a huge tail slammed against the side of the vessel and sent everyone sprawling.

  A massive croc with red, gleaming eyes and twice the size of the boat disappeared under the surface as Muneer scrambled to his feet and grabbed his weapon to begin squeezing off rounds. Suddenly the air was filled with leather-winged gargoyles that screeched and dove at Gavreel as he fired at them, using two hands, to blow them out of the air.

  Beasts with clenched, yellowed teeth swooped down, eyes gleaming red in contorted, flesh-ravaged faces. The smell of sulfur polluted the air in their wake, as gray-green bodies tried to slash and grab at the boat’s inhabitants with razor-sharp claws and bull-whipping spaded tails.

  Using both hands, Celeste, Maggie, and Aziza popped off rounds, splattering demon gook everywhere and making it rain black and green.

  “That thing in the water!” Melissa screamed, then blindly squeezed off rounds at it over the side of the vessel. “How can that be? It’s holy water!”

  “Natural beast with something inside it,” Paschar said, then looked at Muneer. “It can die from normal bullets—stay on it!” Then he joined Gavreel in the aerial offensive, trying to keep the mass of gargoyles from reaching the boat.

  An army of hooded demons bearing scythes and blades erupted from the sand and shore. Nothing was in the hoods but dark, skeletal faces and red, gleaming eyes. Their haggard hands were weathered gray-green skin that peeled away to expose claws and bones. Kadeem pushed Muneer down just in time to miss a whirling scythe that would have taken both of the
ir heads, as Celeste and her sisters flattened themselves to the deck and kept their heads down.

  To Celeste’s horror, she saw a chest rise to the edge of the boat above her. She would know the hands that held it anywhere. Risking it all, she lifted her head and scrambled toward the surfacing Azrael and leaned over the side. He came up with Bath Kol and Isda and sucked in a huge inhale.

  “We’re under attack!” she shouted, trying to help drag the chest over the edge of the boat so they could get out of the water to fight.

  It only took a second, and with a powerful upward thrust, all three brothers were out of the water and standing on the deck, wings spread, water cascading from their hair and over their heaving chests. Azrael dropped the heavy metal box that was crusted with river sediment and took three running steps to go airborne, battle-axes in his fists. Isda swooped in, relieving Muneer of his AK-47, and was right behind Bath Kol, who’d picked up Azrael’s nine-millimeter on the run.

  But the huge beast in the water slammed the vessel again, sending the passengers sprawling and the chest sliding. Up and running toward it, Celeste went after the box, grabbed one of the heavy metal handles, then felt something slam into her back with such force her vision went black.

  Agonizing current traveled swiftly up her spine and terminated at the top of her skull, making it feel as if the top of her head would explode. Something icy had wrapped around her entire body, burning her and freezing her at the same time. It was as though she’d been lassoed by a dark-energy current that had a paralyzing effect. No matter how hard she fought against it, she couldn’t move—just felt the painful electric shock convulsing her body and limbs. Then she was moving so fast that it stripped the air from her lungs. In the distance reaches of her mind she heard her sisters screaming no. Could see Azrael turn in the air in the midst of battle and throw a battle-ax while yelling her name.