Ascending Passion, page 9
part #4 of Heaven's Heart Series
Woman likes her coffee.
If Rowan had three cups before noon, she was jittery for the rest of the day. Kayla had three cups before she left for site.
Standing in front of the small buffet, Rowan eyed the offerings. At the start, she had enjoyed the Egyptian cuisine, but after three weeks she longed for a bowl of granola. Grabbing some bread and eggs, she figured that would do.
“That’s all you’re eating? No wonder you’re so skinny.” Yael gestured at her plate, then proceeded to heap a bit of everything on his.
“I’m not skinny.” She didn’t think she was overweight; but she wasn’t model-thin. And she was okay with that. Plus, she didn’t have much of an appetite after her dream this morning. She still felt embarrassed to look at her bodyguard.
“Fine. You do you. Means more for me.”
“Like you were going to leave anything, anyway,” Rowan muttered, heading over to Kayla’s table.
“Ah, you know me too well.” The familiar smirk was back.
She was so grumpy that she wanted to smack it off his face. Instead, she dug into her eggs and pita.
“What are you two bickering about this time?” Kayla downed the last of her coffee.
“Food.” Yael jerked his chin in her direction. “She doesn’t eat enough.”
“What are you, my dad?” Rowan snapped.
He appeared horrified at the suggestion.
Kayla snort-laughed. “You guys crack me up. You’re like an old married couple.”
“Glad someone enjoys it,” Rowan growled then quickly shoved her mouth full of food so she couldn’t say anything else stupid.
Old married couple? The idea wasn’t quite as horrifying as it should be.
“Colin reckons we’re about to find the entrance to the tomb in his trench,” Kayla said, then glanced at the bottom of her coffee cup, amazed it was empty.
“Do you run on that stuff?” Yael asked, pointing at the cup with his fork.
Kayla slapped his utensil away. “Don’t they teach you manners in He—wherever you’re from?”
He bared his teeth. “No.”
Rowan finished her mouthful, ignoring their exchange. “Well, since we couldn’t find the entrance with the other three trenches, let’s hope he’s right.”
The G.P.R. had shown that the tomb terminated at each of the four trenches. The only problem? It didn’t show where the door was. G.P.R. only indicated changes in soil that occurred from voids, or the presence of stone, and since most of the tombs had stairwells leading into them, well, it showed up simply as a room.
I still think we’re digging in the wrong spot.
She couldn’t pinpoint the exact cause of her doubt, just that she knew this new tomb wasn’t Twosret’s. But it shouldn’t matter. Discovering a new tomb in the Valley of the Kings was an immense achievement, regardless of whether it was the ‘right one’.
“I went through the sieve finds yesterday from Colin’s trench,” Kayla said, turning the empty coffee cup in her hands. “There were a number of small gold objects, even a broken ushabti.”
Ushabtis were small figurines said to come to life to serve the tomb’s owner—it meant that actual servants didn’t have to be killed and buried with their former masters. The figurines weren’t left outside tombs, not unless they had been dumped there by grave robbers. “That isn’t a good sign that the tomb is intact.”
“No. Colin seems to think it could be debris left over from KV15.”
Rowan made a non-committal sound, while Yael finished his mound of food.
“Let’s go.”
#
Four dusty hours later, they unearthed a staircase.
KV64, here we go!
“This is it!” Dr. Murdoch rubbed his hands together in glee, while Dr. Mustafa and Dr. Campbell stood stone-faced at the top of the stairs. Rowan crouched down four stairs away, using her trowel to scrape at the compact alluvial soil that covered the remainder of the staircase. The shiny golden back of an ornamental scarab appeared, and her heart sank. As she worked, broken shards of pottery also emerged.
Dr. Mustafa came to crouch down next to her. “What is it?”
“There are artifacts all through this. I don’t think it bodes well.”
While the pottery fragments and scarab should have been left in situ—so they could be recorded first—Dr. Mustafa pried up the scarab with care. He flipped it over, the dusky skin of his palm contrasting against the warm gold. His hand clenched on the item. “Maatkare.”
Excitement made Rowan’s skin tingle and she fought the urge to pry apart his fingers and steal the object. “Can I see?”
Slowly, he opened his hand, letting her pick up the scarab. There, on its back, was 𓊹 𓄤𓇳𓁦 𓂓. Neter Nefer Maatkare. Translated, it meant the God Good Maatkare. This referred to Hatshepsut, one of the other female pharaohs form the Eighteenth Dynasty.
“They’ve found her body,” Rowan murmured. It had been the talk of the community a few years ago. Her mummy had been identified from D.N.A.—all from a tooth found in a box labelled with her name. Like Twosret, her mummy had been moved from the original burial chamber. Unlike Twosret, they’d found Hatshepsut’s body—on the floor of her wet-nurse’s tomb.
“So they think.” Mustafa squinted down at the sand that buried the remainder of the stairs. “But this could be her daughter’s tomb.”
“Neferure? I thought Howard Carter found that.”
“It was mostly empty. She was the only daughter of Maatkare. She would have been entitled to a grand tomb.”
“Let’s see if any of the other finds mention her cartouche.” Rowan placed the scarab back where it had been found and motioned to Kayla to record the artifacts. She then climbed the exposed stairs and headed to the marquee, where all the washed artifacts had been left out for cataloguing, a task assigned to some of the university students.
There was nothing that referenced any other pharaohs.
“This could have just been coincidence then,” Rowan said to Dr. Mustafa. Over the past three weeks, he had warmed to her slightly.
“Possibly. Or maybe Twosret had kept artifacts from the other female kings.”
It was feasible, she supposed. The Eighteenth Dynasty had boasted Hatshepsut and Nefertiti as pharaohs, with the possibility that Smenkhkare had also been a woman. Excellent precedents for someone who wanted to rule without a male king by their side.
When she didn’t say any more, Dr. Mustafa turned back to the towering spoil mound and Colin’s trench. “We shall keep digging through the night. Now we are close, we cannot leave the site unattended. Even the security guards will not be enough; we need as many people on site as possible, to prevent thieves from taking advantage. I will tell Mr. Starre that KV64 will be ready for opening tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?”
So soon?
She didn’t think she was ready.
Chapter 17
Casa de los Condenados, Sheol
Raze was a patient man. In fact, he felt like he’d spent his entire life waiting for something. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was waiting for, but that didn’t seem to bother him, and he was beginning to find that strange. At first, almost a millennia ago, he’d believed it was because he was going to be the Head Scholar at the Celestial Library. Then, four hundred years later, when the silver had bloomed in his wings, he’d thought he would become leader of the Darts.
Now, he was thankful it had been neither of those things.
It meant that he still had potential. That losing his wings wasn’t the end of his achievements, that he would still live on to become someone to remember.
What he was to be remembered for…well, the fun was in learning that.
He’d always been a believer that it wasn’t about the finish line, it was about the race.
“Hey, you want another drink?” One of the Casa de los Condenados bartenders, a Foraci demon, had come up to his shady corner. Most of the bar was open space, filled with tables, and with a counter running the length of one wall. A staircase was located behind him, and he guessed that’s where the offices and accommodation were located.
As the Foraci turned to shout something back at the bar, her cheek tattoos became visible. She had the markings of a Scryer, indicating she was one of the most powerful of their kind. It was rare to see one outside the Foraci sects.
Why is she working in a bar?
Then again, why had he decided to open a mercenary business in the Human Realm?
Maybe she just likes mixing drinks.
And maybe I don’t collect other people’s secrets as a hobby.
Realizing he had been quiet a little too long, he said, “I’ll have a Dark and Stormy, please.”
“Sure thing.” She paused, taking in the books on his table. He’d brought a couple of tomes with him to read until Z arrived. “You waiting for anyone?”
“Actually, yes.”
She nodded and headed back to the bar.
Z had wanted to meet him here, rather than back at the house. Raze had thought about dissuading him but had decided it would be good to leave the mansion. He spent most of his time holed up in the library—or any other library he could get access to—trying to find a hint about the remaining two pieces of Heaven’s Heart.
Getting some ‘fresh air’ was good for him.
Plus, he enjoyed visiting Hell—not that he’d admit that to the others. Despite the sulfuric stink, it was so…alive. Vibrant. Hungry.
And chock-full of secrets to be pried open and studied.
A moment later, the reason Z picked this meeting place became clear. The angel entered the bar with a male Mortus at his side. The demon had his black hair done up in a ponytail, and his cold gray gaze surveyed the room. At the sight of his olive-green skin, half the bar stampeded to get out of his way.
One stroke of a Mortus’ skin would result in death.
And a painful one at that.
There was no known cure to their toxin. You were either immune, or you were dead. And if you were immune, well, that either meant you were an angel, or you were said Mortus’ mate. Most people probably wouldn’t be too happy to learn they were the latter.
Raze allowed a small smile to lift the corners of his mouth at the sight of the scattering demons. Too bad the patrons didn’t realize that Z’s wings were just as fatal as the Mortus’ skin. The poisonous green filaments had appeared soon after Z had become the mate of the Mortus Queen. Forever changed, his future was now with his lover, not Heaven.
In a way, Raze envied him: to know your place in the realms, to understand your purpose.
That would be idyllic.
Z spotted Raze and made a beeline for him, with the Mortus following in his wake. By the time they arrived, half the patrons had either left the bar, or were huddling together on the opposite side, whispering among themselves. As if that would save them from the Mortus, should he decide to attack.
They weren’t the most feared of all demons for no reason.
Raze studied the newcomer, tilting his head in welcome. “You are Dru’s cousin, yes?”
The Mortus’ chilly eyes widened a fraction. “And you are?”
“This is Raze,” Z said. “We used to work together in Heaven.”
“Ah, you are one of the fallen.” The Mortus sneered slightly.
Raze wasn’t offended; he had the feeling this expression was normal for the demon.
Z sighed, as if the demon’s lack of manners was a personal affront. “Raze, this is Godric.”
“Why have you brought a Mortus demon to Sheol?” Raze asked.
He, too, lacked manners.
Z pulled out a chair, spun it around, and sat. “We’re meeting Seraphina here after.”
He frowned. “Why?”
“Trick organized with Peony for one of the Mortus to work at the Halcyon Guild. As the new Guild Master, she has inherited the agreement.”
The Mortus were highly insular—for one to go and work for a mercenary guild was almost a miracle. The Mortus only served the Mortus.
“You wish to be an assassin?” Raze asked.
Godric lifted an eyebrow. “You could say I have a natural talent for it.”
“Indeed.”
The Foraci bartender returned, clunking his beverage on the table so that some of the liquid spilled. She jerked her head at Godric. “That going to stay long?”
Raze shrugged. “He isn’t my guest.”
She turned slit-pupiled eyes on Z. “Yo, wing-man, he staying long?”
“You could ask me yourself,” Godric murmured.
“Unless you’re ordering a drink, I don’t have to talk to you.”
Challenge burst to life on the Mortus’ face. “In that case, I’ll have a glass of wine.”
“Wine.” Disbelief turned the Foraci demon’s mouth slack.
“Yes. Do you have any red?”
The Foraci walked back to the bar, Godric close behind her.
“He is a top-level psychopath,” Z murmured.
Raze gave a dry chuckle. “He will fit in perfectly with some of Seraphina’s employees, then.”
With Dru a former Halcyon Guild member, Raze thought the male Mortus would fit in perfectly. She wasn’t exactly the welcoming—or completely sane—kind.
“I have these for you.” Z reached into his leather jacket and withdrew a yellow envelope.
Raze took it, opened it. He pulled out some photos, flicked through them.
“You didn’t say those pictures were for him.” Godric had returned, a glass of red wine in his hand. The smell of rust caught the air currents. Blood wine.
“He is the scholar I was referring to,” Z replied.
“Hmph.”
Raze turned the prints so they caught the light. His pulse sped up. “This is ancient angelic.” He scanned the document. It spoke of an amazing hubris on behalf of the author: they claimed sole responsibility for the creation of Hell.
“Peony says that the Mortus were formed from a union between an angel and Satan,” Z said. “The walls of the den are covered in ancient angelic writings. I think this section may be what you’re looking for.”
“Thank you.” There were dozens of pictures here.
“This is just the first batch. We can give you more.”
“Thank you.”
At that moment, Seraphina appeared behind Z, tapping him on the shoulder, careful to avoid his wings. Z spun around and gave her a careful hug. Raze ignored them, focused on the photographs.
I am the Angel of Death and Doom. I will bring about the End of Days, and my Children will be the most Feared in all the Realms…
Chapter 18
Valley of the Kings, Egypt
“Wait, we have to stay here all night?” Yael gazed out over the archaeological dig. A group of students and workers were huddled in the discovered stairwell, arguing over the best way to remove the soil that still clogged the tomb.
Funny that the tomb went down into the cliff wall, while the others around it were straight in or upward. These grave diggers were a bit smarter.
Rowan stood beside him under the marquee, which was growing darker from the setting sun. “We’re so close now, Dr. Mustafa says we can’t leave. Too risky for grave robbers.”
Fucking Hell.
Yael had been awake for three weeks straight. Sure, he pretended to sleep when he was trapped in the room with Rowan, because he didn’t want her to think he was a creeper, staring at her all night long. Which he only sometimes did.
Yeah, you’re a creep. But she was so innocent when she slept.
Yael hadn’t felt innocent ever.
Even as a child, he’d known he was a failure. Doomed to forever disappoint his parents. As an adult, he’d tried to carve out his own future, but see where he’d ended up?
He plucked his cell from a pocket and stared at the screen.
You said you’d ask for help.
With a sigh, he sent a text message to Azrael. He could go a month without sleep if he had to, but why do it if it wasn’t necessary? He was already beginning to feel the effects of heightened tension, and he was worried he’d miss something as a result.
“So, are you looking forward to Luke’s arrival tomorrow?” Kayla sidled up to him.
“I’ve already met him. There’s not much to anticipate.”
Her neon-green eyes widened. He’d taken to wearing the Clear Sight spell constantly. Better to be prepared and all that. When it wore off, it was almost strange to see her in her human face.
“But you’re…” She flapped her hands at him.
“You just indicated all of me.”
“Exactly.”
He grimaced.
She stood on her tiptoes and whispered, “You’re a fallen angel, wouldn’t you want to meet the first one of your kind?”
Astonishment kept him quiet. For the past few weeks, he and the archaeologists had very carefully avoided discussing the fact that he was an angel and they were demons. It was like they had politely agreed they were all going to pretend everyone was human.
“Well?” Kayla demanded, settling back onto her feet.
“He’s your lord and master. You really think I’m going to give you my honest opinion?”
“You can’t lie.”
He leaned down, his mouth so close he could see her hair flutter when he spoke. “That’s where you’re wrong. Angels can lie, it just doesn’t feel good when we do.”
Shock made her eyes flare.
“But Lucifer always said—”
“He is the King of Liars. Don’t forget that.”
“That’s Satan.”
“Satan is the King of Deceit. They aren’t the same thing.”
The demon pursed her lips. “What about Hades, then?”
Yael straightened. “We never gave him a title. He is just Hades, God of Death. Dude apparently doesn’t like nicknames, and he’s someone you don’t want to fuck with.”
“Yeah, my kind learned that the hard way.” Her expression turned somber.
What kind of Succubus was she?
“Look, for a demon, you’re not too bad. Try not to get too mixed up in the Hell-lord’s shit and you should survive.”
