Reawakened (The Reawakened Series)

by Colleen Houck

  Regardless, I’d been granted a temporary reprieve from planning an entire future for myself, and I’d always be grateful to him for that. I hadn’t realized how heavy the weight of my structured life was until it was gone. Being with Amon made me feel like anything was possible. I no longer felt like the person called Miss Young, or Lilliana. With him, I was just Lily, or Young Lily. I liked being Lily much better.

  There was a light knock at the door, so I set aside my reflections and opened it, allowing the server to bring in a new cart. He handed me a slip of paper to sign and then he was on his way. Amon woke as I was setting the food on the table.

  “Are you coming?” I asked with a smile. “I have to confess, I think I’m ready for a feast.”

  Cocking his head, he studied me with wide green eyes. “And what are you celebrating, Young Lily?”

  Lifting a glass full of orange juice toward him, I said, “Possibilities. Let’s celebrate the unknown.”

  Amon came forward and took a glass, filling it from the carafe. “To the unknown, then,” he said, clinking his glass against mine.

  With relish, I filled my plate and didn’t even allow myself to think about the fat, carbs, or calories. If something was delicious, I made sure Amon tasted it. As he exclaimed over the chocolate cake I’d asked him to try, he nudged a plateful of an Egyptian dish he loved toward me and encouraged me to eat it with my fingers. Another dish we scooped up with sections of a thin, flavorful bread. When we’d tried everything, feeding each other bite after bite, Amon got on the phone and ordered everything else on the menu we hadn’t sampled yet.

  We tried pizza together for the first time, and he loved the Margherita style the most. I introduced him to lobster and linguini, ice cream and Italian meatballs, steak tartare and spring rolls, and he had me taste a variety of local dishes. Some were similar to things he’d once eaten, while others were new creations.

  Tasting every dish with Amon was an exhilarating experience. It felt decadent, adventurous, and, in a way, intimate. But above all else, it was fun. I realized then that I’d never actually feasted before in my life. Amon’s passion for food and for giving himself over to the simple pleasures of taste and textures was a big departure for me. I found myself wishing I’d done it sooner.

  By the time we were finished, I groaned, having never in my life eaten so much. It was just after midnight, and I wasn’t sure if I should try to go back to sleep or watch a movie. I’d started to gather our dishes and place them back on the cart, when Amon gently wrapped his hand around my wrist.

  Sliding his hand up my arm to my face, he pressed his palm against my cheek and said, “Hakenew, Lily.”

  “That means ‘thank you,’ right?”

  “It means a bit more than a simple thank-you. It is a term implying a deep sense of gratitude for another person. It is an expression of thankfulness for the enduring warmth and comfort one feels when in the presence of someone special. I do not thank you, Lily. I am thankful for you.”

  “Oh.”

  He continued “I have feasted many times, but I have never enjoyed it as much as this. My heart is lightened by being with you.”

  Blushing, I murmured, “I enjoyed it, too.” Amon’s green eyes studied my face and then dropped to my lips as he came a step closer. I thought he was going to kiss me, but instead, he pressed his forehead against mine. Our noses touched, but unfortunately his extremely kissable lips were nowhere near mine.

  Drawing back, I sensed his regret as he took a few steps away from me. “Please rest a bit longer, Lily. I will return soon.”

  With that, he was out the door and gone.

  What did I do? I wondered. Maybe he wasn’t attracted to me in the same way I was to him. Maybe he just needed me and when he was done, he’d have no problem setting me aside.

  Feeling insecure, an emotion I despised, and about a boy, a situation I’d never allowed myself to be in before, I berated myself for acting like a lovesick teen with an unrequited crush, reminded myself that I was above such things, and then headed to the bathroom to see if I had something stuck in my teeth. My teeth were fine, which left me vacillating between wondering why Amon wasn’t attracted to me and telling myself that I was too confident in my own skin to care.

  Picking up my hairbrush, I noticed that my hair was different. On each side of my face, there were two streaks that were no longer the same color as the rest of my hair. I inspected the strands. It looked like I’d gotten chunky blond highlights. Starting at the roots, I trailed my fingers down the highlighted locks and then gasped when I realized that Amon had touched my hair in the exact place where the highlights were.

  The fact that my new highlights were most likely due to Amon’s sun-god touch actually made me like them. My hair was now unique, very different from the Lilliana who lived in a penthouse suite in New York City.

  This was a Lily with an adventurous streak, literally. This was a Lily who snuck out of the house. This was a Lily who ate things that tasted good instead of things that were good for her. I squared my shoulders and came to a realization. This was a Lily who deferred college for a year or two and traveled. And this was the kind of Lily who just might look like she deserved a hot Egyptian sun god for a boyfriend. I wet my hair again, applied some product, and scrunched it while I blew it out. With a curling iron, I twisted sections of my hair into loose curls, creating a bohemian style that reflected my mood. I was working on my makeup when I heard the room door open.

  “Amon?” I called out.

  “I am here, Lily.”

  He entered the room with a man in a business suit who was obviously under his thrall. They both carried a bunch of shopping bags on each arm. After depositing them all on the bed, Amon thanked the gentleman, murmured a few words, and he left, happy as could be despite the fact that I was sure he hadn’t received payment for any of the items Amon was pulling from the bags. As he left, I spied the glint of gold on his name tag, and I jerked my thumb over my shoulder at his departing form. “You put a spell on the vice president of the hotel and made him schlep bags up here?”

  Amon shrugged. “The store with women’s clothing was closed and he was the only one who could open it.”

  Folding my arms across my chest, I gave him a look, but Amon ignored me and began plowing through the bags.

  “I did not know which clothes would fit the best, so there are several different styles and sizes,” he explained.

  “You know, even if the security cameras didn’t see you, he could get into a lot of trouble with his boss. He could even go to jail.”

  Amon waved a dismissive hand. “Since you explained the camera on your phone to me, I have discovered how to disable them wherever we go. They are quite simple machines.”

  “Okay, I’m just saying it might be best to lie low sometimes.”

  Twisting to look at me, Amon asked with a puzzled expression, “You wish for me to lie down on the floor?”

  “No. Never mind,” I said with a sigh.

  Rifling through one of the bags, I found a button-down shirt and a pair of jeans much too large. Yanking the jeans from the bag, I held them up and raised my eyebrows with a smirk. “Wow, you really are a bad guesser.”

  Amon looked up. “Those are not for you. They are mine.”

  “Ah.” I handed him the jeans. After gathering a few more items, he started to leave, but then stopped and turned around.

  “Your hair is different.”

  “Yes, I noticed. Thanks for the highlights, by the way.” I pulled a blond curl away from my face and let it go. Dropping the bags with a heavy thud, Amon came closer and tentatively reached out his hand, but then he paused as if asking for permission. “It’s okay,” I said. “You can touch it. I like the streaks.”

  Amon twisted a curl around his finger and gently pulled it straight. The tip of his finger brightened as he drew the curl out and I could actually see sunlit ripples travel down to the ends of my hair.

  “It seems like where you touch my hai
r, it changes color.”

  “Yes.” He watched the transformation with curiosity. “But I did not make it curl.”

  “No. I did that myself.”

  Amon let the newly blond strand go and then backed away a step. “I am sorry,” he said.

  “Don’t be. Like I said, I like the color.” He said nothing and just stared at me, so I asked, “Do you hate it? Is that the problem?”

  “No. I find it…beautiful.”

  “Then what is it? What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” Amon shook his head, turned, and said, “Dress in something comfortable. We will be journeying through what you call a sandstorm.”

  “Will we be coming back to the hotel?”

  “Yes. We can return.”

  “Okay. I’ll pack light, then.”

  Amon left, closing the door quietly behind him.

  I couldn’t get a sense of what was going on with Amon, and that bothered me. He was upset about something, but I couldn’t tell what that something was.

  Since I wasn’t sure exactly what we’d be doing, I dressed in a pair of skinny jeans, boots, and a black tee. Just in case we ended up going someplace nicer, I threw a flowing black skirt with a handkerchief hem into my bag, along with my notebook, a few water bottles, a pair of sandals, and my wallet. Amon would likely take care of any fees, but I wanted to keep my wallet on me just in case.

  Emerging from the bedroom, I found Amon dressed in a similar fashion. He’d slicked back and finger-combed his brown hair, which made it look almost black, and he wore a pair of dark jeans with a thick black belt and a gray shirt, unbuttoned so the white tee beneath it peeped through. His muscular physique was visible despite the double layer of shirts. My goodness, I thought. Not bad, Lily. Not bad.

  Swallowing and clearing my throat noisily, I asked, “So, sandblast, huh?”

  “Yes.”

  Amon had a falcon-like stare that made me feel vulnerable and powerful at the same time. My heart began hammering as I neared him, his eyes seeming to take in my every move at once. I got the impression that he could sense not only the rate of my heartbeat but also the pulse of blood through my veins, my sharp intake of breath as he slid his hands up my arms, and the way my skin tingled where he touched me. “Are you ready?” he whispered against the delicate skin beneath my ear, and when I answered, “Yes,” my mind wasn’t even on the place where we were going. I took a step closer and wrapped my arms around his waist. As the sand began to fly, I closed my eyes and buried my face against his chest. I sensed his surprise at the gesture but couldn’t tell if it was a happy surprise or if he’d rather I kept my distance.

  My ears filled with the buzz of the storm as sand licked my bare arms and wind lifted my hair. I experienced a moment of panic as the prickles of sensation numbed me, but Amon somehow spoke to me in my mind, soothing me with soft words in a language I couldn’t comprehend. His hand slid up my back and cupped my neck and I had all of a few seconds to enjoy it before I could feel nothing and we sank into darkness.

  The sand coalesced and we appeared in an alley between two buildings.

  “Where are we?” I asked as I turned in circles.

  “Itjtawy,” he answered softly.

  “Itjtawy as in…”

  “My home.”

  “Oh.” Amon’s “home” was apparently now an industrial district on the outskirts of the vast city of Cairo. He began walking and I followed, not entirely sure it was safe to be walking there at that time of night. Within a few moments, Amon was able to find the Nile, and we walked along its banks as he studied the area. He stopped once and played with the top of a reed growing near the water.

  “Papyrus,” he explained, without me having asked.

  I would never have guessed that the clump of tall green stems with dust-mop-style heads could have been used to make paper.

  A bit farther down, Amon paused, backed up carefully, and counted off steps. “It should be right about here,” he finally announced.

  “What? Your home? How do you know?”

  “No. My home would have been up on that crest. Can you see it?”

  “That hill there? Yes, I see it. So what was here?”

  “The temple. The one we would have prayed to Anubis in. I know where we are because this was the site of my first death, an experience I shall never forget. Even if I had, the Eye of Horus would show me what I was seeking.”

  “Oh, I see.” I was itching to ask more questions, but I could see he was focused on the task at hand. “So what do we do?”

  “Be still for a moment so that I may concentrate.”

  Amon sank to his knees, closed his eyes, and lifted his hands skyward, palms up. I wasn’t sure what to do, but getting on my knees felt like the right thing, so I did. He began chanting, and after a moment, I felt the ground rumble.

  Turning to me, Amon reached out a hand. “Lily!”

  He pulled me up, crushing me tightly to his chest. Amon kept us both upright as the ground rolled beneath us. The dirt directly in front of where we stood rose as if something or—and I sincerely hoped not—someone was emerging from it. A horn pierced the surface and I worried that it was attached to an underground monster, but then the rumbling stopped and whatever it was that was sticking out of the ground remained motionless.

  Cautiously, Amon stepped forward and reached out, pulling the object from the earth. It looked like a large ice cream cone, the sugar kind, but it was made of clay. Its sides were smooth except for the dirt that covered it, and on the top were Egyptian glyphs.

  “What is it?” I asked as I moved closer.

  “A funerary cone.”

  “What’s a funerary cone? Is it used to nail the sarcophagus closed? Seems like it would break.”

  Amon shook his head. “No. They line the entrance of a tomb. These carvings here are a prayer meant for the deceased. And here, we find his name.”

  “So who is the deceased?”

  Reverently, Amon dusted the surface and ran his finger over a portion, reading it out loud in Egyptian. He paused and looked at me before translating. “Me. This cone comes from the tomb of my last resting place. It is a message that I will find what I am seeking there.”

  “So your last resting place was—”

  “Thebes. Not in Thebes exactly, but likely in the tombs near the Theban hills.”

  “Wait a second. On the box with all the artifacts in the museum there was a marker that said the mummy”—I shifted uncomfortably— “I mean, you, were discovered in the Valley of the Kings.” I pulled out my smartphone and looked up the site.

  “It’s near where Thebes once was,” I explained. “The city is now called Luxor. I hate to tell you this, Amon, but the Valley of the Kings is the archaeological capital of the world. Oh, uh, ‘archaeological’ means the digging up of buried relics.”

  Amon frowned. “Like me.”

  I winced, but said, “Yes. The point is that there are probably guards everywhere, and they haven’t even discovered all the tombs in there yet. They find new stuff all the time. It’s going to be like looking for a needle in a sand dune, not to mention you’re going to have to do mind control on a lot of people for us to even get in there.”

  Amon was methodically dusting off the cone artifact as I spoke. When I finished, he lifted his eyes and said, “I have to try, Lily. If I cannot succeed, then all will be lost. Will you still accompany me on this journey?”

  Stepping closer, I placed my hand on his arm and said, “Of course. Now hand me the ice cream cone thing and I’ll put it in my bag for safekeeping.”

  Once the relic was stowed, I expected to leave immediately for the Valley of the Kings, but Amon wanted to wait until tomorrow so he could renew himself in the sun before attempting the journey. He wanted to walk around the area that used to be his home. He held out a hand to me, and together we explored the land that was once supposed to belong to him.

  As he talked, explaining to me what his home had looked like, the drab gray buildings
disappeared and were replaced with a golden palace, fields of grain, and herds of cattle. I could envision Amon walking proudly among his people, riding a boat down the Nile, or feasting in celebration.

  Soon we came upon a building that had been made over into a club. Techno music blasted and beautiful young people lined up, waiting their turn to get in.

  “What is this?” Amon asked.

  “It looks like a club. A place where people dance and celebrate,” I added.

  “My people dance?”

  “Well, yes. People dance all over the world.”

  “Then, come, Lily. We will celebrate with them.”

  “I don’t think I’m really in the mood.”

  “What do you mean? What is a mood?”

  “Mood is a feeling…like when…Ugh, it’s too hard to explain.”

  Amon peered at me in the darkness, his eyes flashing. He tilted his head, then said, “You do not enjoy dancing.”

  “As a rule, no.”

  He continued to focus on me, quickly discerning more than I was willing to show outwardly.

  “You believe it is a poor use of your time and you are…embarrassed.”

  He’d pretty much hit the nail on the head. It was strange to have someone pick up on every little thing I was thinking. “Quit analyzing me, Sigmund Freud. I have my reasons, and you don’t need to know every little thing.”

  Ignoring my statement, Amon continued to address the issue. “Lily, first, there is no possibility that your lovely, soft limbs could move in any way that would cause you shame. Second, there is enough work in the world, Nehabet. What good does it do to excel if you don’t revel in your achievements? There must be a balance. Even a king celebrates. If he did not, how could he rule effectively?

  “You must allow yourself to feel…joy, Young Lily. You must take pleasure”—Amon pressed his lips to one of my hands and then the other—“in just being alive.”

  The irony was that I’d never in my entire life felt more alive than I did the moment Amon kissed my hands. He’d kissed my forehead before, but when he touched his lips to my hands, electricity shot through me. Even though I knew his passion was more about enjoying life than about me, it was still powerful, and there was a part of me that wanted to latch on to that. “All right,” I acquiesced softly. “We’ll dance.”