She had to stop this. The cooling of her body could kill her, and, even if it didn’t, it would keep her from being able to help. She took a deep breath, reaching into her own core, building the tiny spark inside. The ice would not destroy her, nor would she allow Ramose to handle Amunkha alone. She had talents, and, with every passing moment, they surged forward at her command. Drug or no drug, Amunkha had made a big mistake.
* * * *
Ramose glared at Amunkha. A man he’d known almost since birth stared back at him, a cocky grin on his lips. A man who’d attempted to take his Kha-Ib from him. Fierce, protective anger surged inside him. No matter what, it was time to make the choice.
“Release her, or die,” he snarled. He’d intended to hold Amunkha off until Mereruka arrived. Mereruka, one of the few security men he’d ever met who was also a doctor. The man could fight like the wind, and, with the two of them, they could take Amunkha down.
Then he’d seen Tamara’s blood. A small trail snaked behind her and around the corner into the mastaba’s burial chamber. He couldn’t tell how much she’d lost, but as he’d formed the crystalline ice chamber over her body, she’d not moved, though he’d heard her whispered denial.
His protection. It was the only thing he could offer her until Amunkha was dead. The one thing he should have known she would need all along. The ice cocoon would keep her from losing too much blood, but it wouldn’t save her life.
“No, I think, Ramose, I’m going to let her die. I do so love her fear. It’s feeding me, even now. Keeping me strong. I can’t wait to see what happens to you when her life finally seeps away.”
Ramose exploded. Ice shot from his fingertips and like a spear, it flew across the room, targeting Amunkha’s chest.
Amunkha waved a hand, and an invisible shield formed between him and the ice spear. It crashed into the wall of energy, shattering beneath the impact. With a straightening of his arm, energy shot from Amunkha’s fingers, like a bolt of electricity.
Ramose rolled, ducking the electrical beam, and it burned harmlessly in the dust beside him. Who the hell was this? Amunkha couldn’t shoot electricity. Amunkha couldn’t create energy shields.
Ramose drew on his own energies, fighting to make himself blend in with his background while drawing strength from the sands beneath him. He needed more energy, more power to encase Amunkha as he had Tamara. The ice seeped from his body, webbing through the sands, moving toward his nemesis.
As the web moved forward, Amunkha struck, using his telekinesis. Statue after statue pummeled in Ramose’s direction, and he ducked, interfering with his concentration.
This was taking too long. For the first time since the day the boy king died, fear settled into Ramose’s heart. He had to get Tamara out of here. He took a deep breath, and, from the palms of his hands, shot layer after layer of ice toward the man. As hard as stone, the wall slammed into Amunkha, who rolled himself onto the ground.
“You will die, Ramose. Prepare yourself. Like Kiya, I will not allow you to live any longer.”
Moving to the offensive, Ramose shot the ice forward again, shocked when Amunkha merely raised his hand. The energy reversed, and in mere seconds, Ramose found himself in his own cocoon of ice. The walls rose high, coming into a point, completely entrapping him in a tomb of his own making. He growled in frustration and slammed his fist into the wall.
Nothing.
He turned and studied the sides. He could make ice, but he couldn’t melt it. His only hope was to find a weakness. Luckily, Amunkha didn’t understand the mechanics of a full shield such as this, and Ramose glimpsed the spider webbing where the back joined together.
A seam. A weakness.
He slammed his fist hard into it, all the while praying. The shield shattered like glass, the echo of a thousand shards of ice clattering to the floor rung in the cavern.
Ramose spun, and caught a glimpse of movement from behind Amunkha. Tamara was free. Her eyes were so big and afraid in her delicate, pale face. Somehow, she had found the energy to melt the ice he’d surrounded her in.
“No, Tamara,” he shouted. She ignored him, rolling to her belly. With a side arm pitch, her hand shot forward. Fire flared from her fingertips, slamming into Amunkha’s back. He erupted into hot orange and red flames. The bright fire hurt Ramose’s eyes, and he lifted an arm to block the glare.
In the next instant, the flames doused.
It was then Mereruka arrived, throwing stars at the ready. The bigger man tossed several stars, but they hit only air, passing through Amunkha, their sharp points causing no damage as the misty view of the man faded from sight.
He was gone.
Only the sound of their heavy breathing and the falling of sand filled the room.
“Ramose?” The orange glow returned, and soft, warm flames ate at his ice until he was able to break through. He wasted no time and rushed toward Tamara, who now lay face down in her blood.
“Tamara,”
“Ramose,” she whispered.
He drew her into his lap, searching for her wound.
“Ramose, I—”
“Don’t talk, Kha-Ib. Please. Mereruka, get over here.”
“I.have.to.say…” Blood trickled from her lips.
“Shh, later. Mereruka will help.”
He traced the blood on her side until he found the wound. “She’s been stabbed.”
Mereruka, one of the more powerful warriors of their kind, dropped to his knees. With gentle hands, he pulled back the white blouse, the slice in her side puckered and bloody. “It’s not that bad. In fact, it looks like it’s had some healing already.”
Mereruka laid his hands over the wound. Ramose didn’t know how the healing worked, and he didn’t care. All he knew was his friend was saving his KhaIb’s life. He would forever owe the man a debt he could never fully repay.
Energy passed from his friend to his woman. Her body arched as though searching for more of the healing power.
The wound slowly closed, from the inside out, until the only remaining sign was a thin white scar. The furrow on her brow eased, and Tamara passed from unconsciousness to sleep.
Ramose let out the breath he hadn’t known he held and gathered her close in his arms.
“Where did Amunkha go?” asked Mereruka. “He was here. I swear I saw him, but, by the time I got all the way down the steps, he was gone.”
“He transported out.”
“But he doesn’t have the ability to transport.”
“Apparently,” said Ramose, not looking away from the woman he lifted in his arms, “he does now.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Ramose leaned in and brushed the hair from Tamara’s cheek as she lay sleeping in his bed. Mereruka had insisted she would be fine, that she would awaken healthy and rested in a few hours. The medic had somehow convinced her body to not only heal but to get the rest she needed to recover fully from the damage she’d received.
Even so, he didn’t want to leave her side. She looked so fragile and delicate, her face so childlike in her sleep, yet her strength was what had saved his life. Ignoring the pain of the knife wound, she’d not only escaped the safe cocoon he’d built around her, but had pounded Amunkha with fireballs until the man had disappeared.
She rolled to her side. With her eyes closed, and, with her body relaxed, she looked no older than a child. Ramose dropped his head to his hands. He’d let her down. It didn’t matter how or why. For thousands of years, he’d been protecting his own from Amunkha. True, there had been setbacks, but none so close to home. He should have killed the man thousands of years ago.
It was time he re-evaluated how he handled his brother.
And, when she awoke, it was time for truth. Gods, he hoped she was as strong there as she had been today. She claimed Mandisa was wrong, but would she still believe the same once she understood what he was?
Her body lay so inviting. The sweet scent of lilies tugging at his senses. No matter what her choice, he would protect her
, now and forever more. When she awoke, she might never want him to touch her again.
Her kisses had been so sweet. So innocent. Just thinking of them sent him into a rush of hunger for more.
He slid a hand over her soft shoulder. She didn’t pull away. Instead, she moved toward him, as though searching for him. He ached to let her find him, to hold her in his arms forever more.
He wanted to curl up around her, to protect her, and keep her safe from everything.
Maybe he could. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to offer her comfort while she slept. He crawled into the bed. Before he even touched her, his mind eased. This isn’t for me.
Before he could move again, she rolled toward him.
Ramose held his breath, waiting, afraid to touch. His body hardened to the point of pain, as he lay there, staring into the most beautiful face he’d ever seen. Today, he’d learned more about her. Oh, he knew where she lived, and what gifts she held, but today had shown him the depth of her love.
Love. She’d whispered that in his mind. She loved him. The soft warmth with the thought had settled in his soul and made him even more determined to save her. She knew almost nothing about him, and yet she’d told him she loved him.
He swallowed the growl rolling up his throat. Hunger, and the need to protect her fought inside of him. She was tired. And she’d been afraid when he’d kissed her in the market.
He dragged a pillow and slid it between them. Now wasn’t the time to give in to his hunger. Now was the time to let them sleep.
The decision made, he forced himself to snuggle the pillow instead of Tamara. The dark fingers of sleep seeped into his mind, and he relaxed into them.
* * * *
Ramose jerked from his sleep. His heart raced until he found Tamara, still sleeping peacefully. Protect me.
He dragged a trembling hand through his hair. He’d failed her. No matter how he looked at it, he’d failed her. He’d dreamt the scene before. Years ago, when he’d believed he’d never see anther dream about his Kha-Ib. This time, it was different. He’d been there, staring in horror as that bastard had raped her, unable to stop it. He should have been there. He should have paid attention to his dreams all those years ago and gone to find her, protected her through her life. Instead, she’d suffered.
Just like yesterday.
When he’d failed her again.
He tapped his clenched fist. It would not happen again. Amunkha would have no chance to hurt her again. He would worry later about why Horus was condoning the rapes of children in America. First, he had to stop his own brother.
* * * *
In the corner of the room, veiled in darkness, Amunkha watched. He couldn’t wait to smell Ramose’s fear and anger. Already, he could feel the twisting, turning, deep abiding hunger for pain as he waited. Nothing could be more perfect. The Other would sense it, cringe, and die a little more.
He bit back a cackle of laughter.
Earlier, he’d stood by while Ramose dreamed. If only he could reach inside Ramose’s head and see what had frightened and angered the man so. That would be such a delicacy, to see Ramose’s true pain. It had to be the woman. Tamara. Amunkha narrowed his gaze and looked across the darkness at the woman. She dreamed, too, but it must have been one she’d had many times. Her fear didn’t hold the sharp taste of terror. Instead, he caught the much lighter flavor of grief.
But not Ramose. Ramose had railed in his sleep. His emotions flying between rage and horror.
The Other stirred, angered by his use of Ramose’s fear. This time, a soft chuckle did slip from his throat. He so enjoyed taunting the Other. Soon, he would be alone. Soon, he would be so powerful he wouldn’t need the Other.
This time, he didn’t hold back his mirth.
* * * *
Ramose stilled at the sound of the soft laughter. The sound had come from the other side of the room. Laughter linked with the rippling sensation of his brother’s presence. He narrowed his eyes, concentrating on the darkness. The soft sound of breathing echoed through the small space.
Damn. When had Amunkha learned invisibility?
He shouldn’t be surprised. Amunkha didn’t know how much Ramose’s talents had grown either. Ramose glanced at his white knuckled grip on the pillow he’d tucked between himself and Tamara. He should pretend he hadn’t seen him. To battle him here, in this place, with Tamara sleeping beside him wouldn’t be safe. First, he needed backup. Amunkha had grown powerful in the centuries. More powerful than the brother he grew up with had a right to be.
Even with the need to not fight in this place, he would not be caught unawares. Ramose fisted his hands and tightened his muscles, ready to spring if needed.
A flash of light erupted from across the room. The energy ripple subsided.
Evil had departed.
How had it come to this? Brother against brother? As children, he and Amunkha had been as close as some twins. When this trip had come along, it was Amunkha Ramose was first to ask to join him, excited to discover new worlds at his brother’s side.
Then, something had happened. Something had to have happened, but his brother refused to share. At first, there were the moments his brother pretended to not remember, bouts of fury and aggression. The sensation of evil.
There was no longer a choice. Old relationships didn’t matter. Before, his brother had targeted only the seedier side of Egypt. Now, he’d stepped closer. A tiny part of Ramose’s heart gave up the seed of love for his brother.
The image of his Kha-Ib, unconscious and bleeding on the floor of the tomb, flashed in his mind. Anger burned into white-hot fury.
Amunkha would have to die.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Tamara awoke slowly, the darkness edging away as though the sun was stealing its shadows. The scent of lilies filled her senses, washing over her like a healing balm to her soul. She sank deeper into the comfortable mattress, enjoying the beautiful smell. She loved lilies. They reminded her of hot summer days and sweet-smelling nights. She let the warm memory curve on her lips.
Then, more recent memories invaded.
The cold, gray tomb where Amunkha had taken her.
The pain.
The fear.
Tamara lay perfectly still, taking stock. Her energy was back, and her stomach was settled, so she knew she’d been sleeping quite a while. And there was no pain.
The sound of breathing whispered beside the bed. She took a quiet breath of her own. Filtering through the fragrance of the lilies was another scent, spicy and masculine.
Ramose.
Her eyes flew open. He sat in large leather chair beside the bed.
One large hand scrubbed his face. On the last pass, he let the hand drop into his lap, his head forward on his shoulders. He looked utterly dejected.
Where was she? She scanned the room. The bed, the chest of drawers, and even the wood frame of Ramose’s chair was made of cherry. Beautiful, yet dark and masculine. Ramose had once mentioned an apartment. This must be it. Why hadn’t he taken her to a hospital? Or to Selket’s?
She grimaced. Maybe he sensed her jealousy of Selket. That thought alone made her want to cringe. She was acting like a lovesick teen jealous of his friends. She rolled her eyes at herself before turning to look around.
Ramose sat with his eyes closed, his hands now dropped into his lap. For the first time, she saw stress, the cold, hard lines of stress across his forehead. He too had suffered this day.
Tamara drew herself upright. “You know,” she said, “my mother always said if you wear a frown too long, your face’ll freeze that way.”
He jerked his head up, his green eyes filled with concern. In a flash, he was beside her, his strong hands on her shoulders.
“Are you okay? How do you feel? Maybe you should lie back down.”
The words slammed into her like orders more than questions. Typical Ramose.
“Take it easy, I’m fine.” She pushed gently at the strong hands trying to force her back down. “On second
thought, if you’ll quit manhandling me, I’ll be fine.”
He blanched at the rebuke. “I’m sorry, I—”
“Shh. I’m fine,” she said, placing her fingers across his lips. God, it was good to see him. When last she’d seen him, he’d been fighting Amunkha, and Amunkha was winning. Her last ditch effort at sending fire at the man had been just that. Last ditch. “Are you okay?”
“Of course, I am, Kha-Ib. I told you, Amunkha will never kill me. But you, gods, I never thought he would come after you like that. I am so sorry.”
Tamara extricated herself from his arms and glanced around the room. Candles burned every few feet. The heavy, luscious scent of the lilies was from them. “It’s not your fault, but…” But she wanted answers.
She slid to the edge of the bed, getting her bearings. This room was so much like Ramose. Masculine. Meticulously so. The furniture polished to a bright shine, the dresser in perfect organization. Yet the portraits above showed the wildness of the desert with images of battles before distant pyramids.
Tamara let out a sigh. Her mind was rested, and it was time to make sense of things, only from what she knew, the picture wasn’t complete. It was like working a puzzle with a few of the center pieces missing.
Ramose pulled back, sliding back to his chair. “You want answers.”
His eyes drilled into hers, and she nodded. “Yes. It’s time, don’t you think? What I saw in that tomb… it was more than anything my family could do. Ramose, you encased me in ice. You froze the entire cavern, and, still, it wasn’t enough to stop that man. What is he?” She pulled up the edge of her shirt, noticing she now wore a long white T-shirt as opposed to the white blouse she’d worn before. And sweats. She hated sweats, no matter how comfortable they were. She glanced where the knife blade had slashed her skin. A fine white line was the only hint she’d ever been injured. She ran a finger over the tiny scar. “And how is it I’m even alive?”
Ramose sighed. “You are healed because Mereruka, a friend of mine, is a healer.” He moved toward her, his hand rubbing over the newly grow skin. She flinched at his touch, and he pulled his hand back. “He told me the knife missed vital organs, and he needed to only seal the wound. It might be tender for a while.”
Visions of Fire and Ice (The Petiri) Page 18
