by Jackie Ivie
Sokar started moving through the line of sentinel-like statues. They looked alert. Ready. He guided her toward the next room. The lights were getting brighter. She could clearly make out the horses and chariots in this room. As well as the lines of archer statues. Rows of weaponry. Stacks of what could be feed bags, although these didn’t look like they’d ever been used. The next room contained furniture. All kinds of furniture lined every wall. Low couches, the ends carved into various animals shapes. Tables inset with more gems.
“My father had three sons. One with his Great Wife. Two from lesser wives. I was first-born. I was the heir. Had I lived, I would have been his co-regent, and then I would have become Pharaoh Senusret the Fourth. Instead, the reign was left to my youngest brother. He was not strong. He died as a youth. That left Amenemhet the Fourth with no male heirs. The dynasty died out. We have reached the treasury room.”
He took her through another arched doorway. Geena’s heart thumped oddly. She stopped for a moment. Sokar stopped with her. Everything in the room looked like it was made of gold. Or the alloy called electrum.
Everything.
There were hammered room divider screens. All sizes of platters. A large throne chair. It was solid gold. Geena noticed something. The walls in this room weren’t painted with huge depictions of the gods. They were festooned with cartoon-looking characters. It looked like King Tuthmosis the Third’s tomb. In the Valley of the Kings. From the nineteenth dynasty. And...wait. She looked back. The furniture room was covered in hieroglyphic symbols. Floor to ceiling. In rows. She’d seen this before, too. King Unas from the fifth dynasty had his tomb decorated with spells from the book of the dead.
“Sokar?”
As if she’d asked it, he answered.
“It was my hand behind this tomb. I excavated the rock. Carved out the rooms and pillars. I removed every speck of dust to spread it throughout the desert. I would not let construction debris be a marker. And then I moved everything. I didn’t decorate until everything from my father’s tomb was safely in place. I started with the burial chamber. It has an astrological ceiling, the match to that of Seti the First. I couldn’t decide what tomb decorations had the most power, which were the most beautiful, so I decided to incorporate them all. And I had a lot of time.”
“Is he...here?”
“Yes. My father’s mummy still rests in his own solid gold sarcophagus. It should be nestled within a wooden coffin, and then a stone one. They are in the gold room. Within his shrine. I moved the stone sarcophagus intact. Reassembled and then resealed his shrine. I didn’t check his mummy when I moved it. We can open it now if you wish.”
“Um. No. I wouldn’t...want to disturb him.”
He smiled. “Exactly as I wished at the time. Come. We have so much more to see.”
“There’s more?”
“Yes. You have not seen his ba statues. Nor the ushabtis. My father has over five hundred of them. Life-sized. And rows of amphora, containing sacred oils. Carved from alabaster.”
“I can hardly believe this.”
“It is all real, I assure you.”
“Sokar? Can I ask you something?”
“Of course. Have I not answered everything you have asked thus far?”
“Why didn’t you go back?”
“Back?”
“To your father? Amenemhet the Fourth?”
“I did. I just told you of it.”
“No. I mean...when it mattered. While he lived. Why didn’t you go back then?”
“I could not.”
“Aren’t you immortal?”
“Yes.”
“Then, you achieved what every Egyptian wanted. You had immortal life! You could have changed everything. You’d have been the most amazing pharaoh Egypt had ever seen.”
He shook his head.
“No? Why not?”
“I did not have eternal life, habibi.”
“Oh...now, the truth comes out.”
“What truth?”
“You aren’t a vampire. You aren’t three thousand eight hundred and some odd years old. And I am having a very strange dream.”
He grinned. He still had fangs.
“I am definitely a vampire, darling. And I am immortal. But, I must explain. I am searching for words. You must give me a moment.”
“Oh. Take your time. It’s on your side, or so you keep saying.”
“Yes. I am a vampire. And yes, I am immortal. But it is not eternal life.”
“What on earth do you call it, then?”
“Eternal death. Endless existence. The ceaseless passage of time.”
“Forgive me if I sound skeptical, but you are definitely not remotely dead. Undead. Whatever. Dead things don’t...uh. Yeah. You know.” She was blushing, but just blazed ahead as if he wasn’t looking at her with a tender expression on his features. He looked like he was watching a little kitten playing. “Dead things don’t make love like we did. Okay? We had sex last night, Sokar. Pretty heavy sex. And you were a lively participant. I suppose you can explain that?”
“You are so young.”
“That again?”
“So innocent. So...contrary. And yet, so...perfect.”
“Come on, Sokar. Please? Just explain.”
“Very well. I shall try. Egypt is the land of the sun. It controlled destiny. The ancients considered the sun to represent life. Night equals death. There is even a myth involving the sky goddess, Nut. She swallowed the sun every night and gave birth to it the next morning.”
“Wow. Your explanations are all over the place. Let’s rope this one in a little quicker this time. How does this relate to you and immortality?”
“I could not be pharaoh of such a land. I could not be seen in the day. I was a creature of the night. I was dead. When you become a vampire, you will learn this. You become dead to the living. You cannot join with them. Because you are dead.”
“I sure hope we’re speaking metaphorically. Otherwise, this sounds like something I don’t want to hear. When I become a vampire?”
“It was immensely enjoyable at first. I could do anything. Fight anyone. If I received a wound, it disappeared before my eyes. And then, there was the lust.”
“Oh. Crap. Here comes the confession. How many women are we talking?”
“I don’t know! Many. I had a lust that was almost unquenchable.”
“I’m going to have to get tested, aren’t I? There’s probably a really nice appointment with a doctor and some antibiotics in my future, too. Thanks, Sokar. Thanks a lot.”
“I had many victims, habibi. Every night. I didn’t kill, but I drank. And drank. I thirsted and nothing seemed to quench it. You wish a number? I cannot say. There were too many.”
“You...drank?”
“Yes.”
“What are we talking about?”
“I am a vampire. I drink blood. I require it. I am telling you how it is at first. The lust that rules us.”
She turned away suddenly. “Sokar. Please. I can’t handle this. I can’t.”
“You are going to force me to tell you, aren’t you? Right now. Right here.”
“That’s funny. I’m going to force you? In what century and on what planet is that likely to happen? Let me see...”
He took a deep breath. Glared down at her. “Vampires are undead creatures. They walk the earth with one objective. Find and secure blood. They have no compassion. No emotion. No physical reactions. No pulse. No heartbeat. Nothing. Because they are dead.”
“Your heart is beating. I specifically remember you telling me—”
He put a hand up, and for some reason, it stopped her words.
“Please. You must let me finish. This is...difficult for me. I have never faced such...odds. I am the eldest son of a powerful pharaoh. I would have been pharaoh. A god among mortals. I never questioned my birthright. My role as king. My right to rule. My status among men. And right now...I am afraid. Look at me. I am shaking.”
She looked. He hel
d out a muscled arm. He was definitely shaking.
“I have been without the ability to feel emotion for so many years. I forgot all of it. And now—? Will you...give me your hand?”
He turned his hand over, offering his palm. Geena hesitated a moment and then placed her hand on his. He immediately closed his fingers around hers. Stepped close. His breath touched her, starting all kinds of goose bumps. And then he brought their entwined hands to the center of his chest.
“Being a vampire is a curse. There is but one thing that can alter it. One thing can take an eternity of undeath and change it. The heart starts beating again. The ability to breathe returns. Emotions and sensations and passions return. It is a mighty force, this one thing. It has the power to reanimate.”
He dropped to his knees.
“Oh, Sokar, no. No. Please?”
“The thing I speak of is a mate. There is one being in the world that can work this miracle. Transcend time. You. You are my mate, Geena Bauman. You are my love. Enta habibi. You are my life. Enta hayati.”
He bowed his head. Held his breath.
“Sokar?”
His head lifted. She’d never seen such raw emotion as was exhibited deep in his eyes. They were awash with tears. Looking exactly like burnished gold. Her eyes filled in response.
“I...can’t handle this. I...have to leave. I’m...going to need...some time.”
“No!”
The word was wrenched from him. He dropped his head. Lifted an arm as if to ward off a blow. It shielded his face. And he wasn’t just shaking. He was making the items closest to him rattle. Something should happen. The pillars should crack. Statues fall. The light fail. Something should keep it from touching on his shiny black mass of hair hovering at her waist level.
Anything.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Thieves broke through at seven thirty-seven in the evening.
Exactly.
Sokar didn’t need a timepiece to tell time. He’d been accurate enough before their invention. Hearing the tick of a mechanical device as each moment passed wouldn’t matter. He was without his mate. He knew every hour that went by. Endured every minute. Suffered each and every accursed second. He had no other choice. He was powerless to stop them.
Nearly eight days had passed since he’d somehow gotten them back through the maze of walls and empty chambers. Soared through and exited his tomb. Traversed the six kilometers of hallway. Found the shaft leading to the cave entrance. Somehow reached the hangar. Awakened the pilot, Stanislaw, from a heavy sleep. Given the order to take Geena wherever she wished to go.
And actually allowed it.
Allow?
He could understand why she disliked that word. He decided he hated it. He had all kinds of time to decide any number of things during these seven days, twenty-one hours. Things...such as the passage of time. It was definitely not on his side. Not anymore.
The plug he’d used on the wall opening was giving the thieves trouble. Sounds of cursing and grunting accompanied their work. They were using a sledge hammer. A shovel. No. Two shovels. Scraping noises alerted him to their use of pick, too. From the sounds of it, he had several men breaking through this time. Maybe he’d be lucky and it would be a large gang. If they had numbers, they’d be braver. Especially when they opened the seal on this shrine and saw not a mummy...
But him.
The golden sarcophagus was deep. The sides shadowed him. He’d padded the bottom with fabric, but it didn’t lift him far. He was resting well beneath the rim. He’d be difficult to see at first. He was dressed as he had been that night. He’d added golden sandals, a Pharaonic headdress, and a breast collar featuring Nekhbet, the vulture goddess. It was fashioned of gold and studded with polished stones. He hadn’t put the lids to his sarcophagus on. The golden one was propped beside the stone one at his side. The wooden lid was on its end behind his head. That was fortuitous, now that he thought of it. Humans would take several hours to break through, otherwise. Maybe even days.
If he’d left the lids on, he’d have to endure even more time. But leaving his resting place uncovered hadn’t been foresight. It was lack of energy. A dearth of strength. He hadn’t cared. He couldn’t seem to drum up the will to do anything. He didn’t feed. He didn’t move. He didn’t do anything except try to forget and wonder why it wasn’t possible to perish of such pain.
Sokar inhaled a slight bit of air. Held it. Heard the heavy thump of another heartbeat deep in his chest. Exhaled slowly. And choked back a sob. It would never do for the gang of thieves to hear him. They might believe the curse. And run away.
Seconds passed. Became a minute. More seconds.
A tear slid from one eye and into the hair above his ear. A shuddered breath accompanied it. He watched the ceiling of his shrine as the tear was followed by another one. He didn’t blot at them. The moisture would disappear into the fabric of his headdress. And he didn’t want to smear his appearance. He’d outlined his eyes heavily with kohl. Applied blue eye paint. And gold.
Another minute passed.
Slowly
Inexorably.
Excruciatingly.
Honoring his promise to Geena was the hardest thing he’d ever done. It eclipsed every battle. Every test. Any injury. Sokar had called on every facet of strength in his possession just to rise from his knees in his father’s tomb and face her. Nausea had punched him in the gut. Sweat had broken out along his hairline. Pain had sapped his strength. It required every fiber of integrity in his body to take her back. And it necessitated every inch of honor that he claimed to let her go.
He didn’t know how he’d managed to do it.
He still didn’t.
The thieves were being hasty. Causing a lot of damage. An ushabtis statue rattled on a shelf and then fell. He heard it break. He must have failed in his quest earlier. He may have missed one of the previous thieves. They’d remembered where the tomb was. And now they’d returned. They’d breached one of the middle rooms. A store room. And what did any of that that matter? Everything in these two tombs – everything he’d owned and protected – was worthless! Chunks of matter. Inanimate objects. Material possessions with no real value. He knew that now.
The only thing that mattered was Geena.
And she’d left him.
189 hours ago.
113448 minutes.
680650 seconds...and counting
Time just kept passing. Nothing stopped it. He hadn’t known heartbreak was a real affliction. The pain came swiftly. Unbidden. It could start with a memory. He remembered her scent. Every gesture. Each argumentative, yet infinitely precious word she’d said. The pain was tangible. Many times it became unbearable. Nothing muted it. There was no unguent to salve it. No magical spell that would relieve it.
He’d even sobbed. It should be mortifying. He told himself he shamed his legacy. His soldiers would have been shocked and horrified. His father disgusted. His mother embarrassed and saddened. And none of that did a thing against agony of a level he hadn’t known existed.
Death was the only release he could think of.
He would welcome it.
Rustling sounds reached his ear. Someone shouted in jubilation. Finally! His shrine had been spotted. Along with the intact seal. Someone made a shushing sound. They were speaking Arabic. He wondered why they whispered, and then set every thought aside as immaterial. He needed to concentrate. Prepare. He begged the gods silently for an assist. He needed to be still. Immobile. Completely unemotional.
And his prayers were answered.
His heart responded first. Wonder of wonders! It ceased sending pain with every beat. The rhythm gradually slowed. Dimmed. His breathing followed, becoming the slightest motion of his chest. And then he closed his eyes.
The gilded wood shrine creaked as they broke the seal. Pulled open the door. He smelled them instantly. Unwashed bodies. Oil burning in their lamps. Sokar almost scrunched his nose. He cracked an eye open. It looked like a cadre of thieves, seve
ral holding aloft oil lamps. His canines tingled and then responded, lengthening despite everything. Several men loomed over him and each had a ludicrously shocked and horrified look on their face. He nearly smiled.
“Aiee!”
Someone screamed. A lamp dropped. Cracked. If they started a fire, he was really going to be angered.
“Stop, you fool! You’ll burn us alive!”
He could burn? Was that a possibility? Or would he simply rejuvenate after everything finished smoldering?
“Idiot!”
“Come back here!
“It is the curse!”
“Wait a moment! All of you!”
An old man peered into his sarcophagus. He had his lips pursed as he gingerly reached forward and prodded Sokar’s side with his pick. Sokar caught the flinch before it happened.
“This place is cursed! I tell you!”
“Hush!”
The old man poked Sokar again. This time, there was a sting as his pick opened skin. There was a concerted gasp as it drew blood. Sokar felt it welling and then it trickled down his side and into the layers of linen padding beneath him. And he actually kept any reaction from happening.
“Aiee!”
The screamer yelled again. Sokar’s jump was disguised by everyone else’s reaction.
“It is the curse! We must go!”
“And leave all this gold? Are you insane?”
“I will not stay and—!”
A burly-looking fellow smacked the screamer. He hit one side of the shrine. There was a distinct cracking noise.
”Stop that, you two! You damage what cannot be replaced! Fools!”
The old man shuffled along the side of Sokar’s coffin. Toward his head. He lost sight of him. A moment later, the fellow put a finger beneath Sokar’s upper lip and lifted it. There was a concerted gasp through the chamber. The old man’s voice shook.
“I...have seen this once before.”
“You have?”
“Yes. When I was a little boy.”
