So - it's official! You would rather be chased by a creepy mummy than flesh-eating beetles. Geez, what a bunch of masochists I have reading this story! You must be if you're enduring my evil cliffhangers - bwahahaha! So I have to admit, I would probably have to choose the mummy too, although my ingenious plan is to step on the end of the cloth wrapping and unwind it like toilet paper, then take an Indiana Jones-worthy torch and light the thing on fire!
So something new today. I am uploading a painting of the Grandparent's village Hamin, so check it out in the media box. It is an older village, so not very modern like Cairo and other parts of Egypt.
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And that's precisely what happened.
Nothing.
They looked at each other. Liam shrugged.
Kami checked the door. It was unlocked. She twisted the knob and stepped inside.
"Hello?" she called. "Is anyone there?"
She was answered by silence.
Liam called out in Arabic, but still no answer.
A rush of exotic yet pleasant fragrances swirled around them as they stepped inside the foyer. She walked down the dimly lit hallway with Liam at her heels, their feet tapping loudly against the terra cotta tiles on the floor.
The hallway opened into a large brightly lit kitchen with an adjoining living room. Richly hued honey-colored cabinets spanned the walls, which were painted a deep eggplant color. An island in the middle of the room was covered with a thick slab of maple butcher block.
Here was the source of the smell. She recognized some of the spices—sweet cinnamon, spicy cloves, citrus peel. If that were the only scent, she could be back in Rosa's kitchen during her Christmas baking marathon. But there were other smells too, a heavy exotic fragrance that hung in the air, like incense. Maybe it was incense.
White couches and chairs combined to make several cozy seating areas around the living room. A built-in brick fireplace sat silent in one corner. Framed pictures hung on the wall, and Kami stepped closer to look at them. Most featured a girl in various stages of growth: as a toddler holding a doll, as a chubby little girl posing with her father at an archeological dig, as a teenager dressed in an elaborate dress, and finally with her husband and two little girls. Kami realized with a jolt that this woman was probably her aunt, which meant the two little girls were cousins. She hadn't even realized she had cousins.
She saw only one picture of her father, which probably shouldn't be surprising considering the circumstances. The happy boy posing with his family, the one with the mischievous face and gangly legs that were outgrowing his pants had to be him. He was holding his father's hand tightly. He was probably only five or six in the picture, around the age she'd been when he died. Innocence still clung to him. For all she knew it was a wonder that his face was permitted in the house, even if he was only a boy, long before he had wounded his father by having the audacity to go against his wishes.
"She's pretty. I see the family resemblance," Liam said, looking at another set of pictures, then over at Kami, then back at the image. "Funny. She looks familiar. I'm trying to remember where I've seen her."
Kami walked over. These pictures were more modern. The girl looked a little like her aunt, but clearly it wasn't her. This must be her cousin. She was more than pretty; she was stunning.
"Shall we explore?" Liam asked.
She nodded.
They walked down another hallway and peered into the first room. It was one of the most charming bedrooms she had ever seen. The walls were stucco, washed in pale yellow paint giving the room a bright, cheery feel. An embroidered duvet cover with an intricate flower design covered the bed. A white glazed pitcher and basin sat on a little gray-blue dressing table, and a pretty little woven rug in yellow and cream shades lay on the floor.
The next bedroom was painted white, and the quilt and the windows were clothed in varying shades of blue. She wondered if it was her father's room. She sat down on the bed as Liam moved on to the next room. She touched the squares of fabric. She imagined the little boy from the picture sprawled on the bed reading a book or playing with his toys in the corner. It would have been a pleasant place to grow up.
"Kami?" Liam called.
"Coming."
She stroked the bed one last time, then left the room. She found Liam in a room with an enormous mahogany king-sized bed that was clearly the master suite. She guessed it must be her grandparents' room. The sun streamed through a pair of glass doors that led to a terrace with a swimming pool and a gorgeous garden. One of the doors was open, at least she thought it was open until she stepped closer and saw it had been ripped off its hinges and was leaning against the wall.
"I don't like it," Liam said. "The front door was unlocked, and now this. Look—that chair in the corner has been knocked over too. And the bedding is a mess. Considering how tidy the rest of the house is, it's hard to believe your grandmother would forget to make the bed."
"Or feel the need to rip out a door. Should we call the police to report them missing?" Kami asked.
"Maybe."
She felt sick to her stomach and light headed. Her stomach growled, and she realized she hadn't eaten anything since the granola bar.
"I know this sounds terrible considering the circumstances, but I think I'd better eat something before I get too sick. I'm going to find some food," she said. "You coming?"
"In a minute."
She went back to the kitchen, opened the cupboard door and found the breakfast cereals. The first couple of boxes didn't look too promising. One featured a bowl of cereal that looked like sticks and the second resembled kitty litter. She pulled out the second box and sniffed it, which didn't help convince her it wasn't kitty litter. She put the box back. She couldn't read the Arabic words, and she wasn't sure she'd want to know what was in the cereal if she could.
But then she spied a familiar yellow box and almost cried as she pulled out a beloved box of Cheerios. She felt silly having such an emotional reaction to something as mundane as breakfast cereal, but the familiarity of it calmed her somehow and softened the culture shock. Culture shock exacerbated, no doubt, by the fact that there had been no one to meet her at the airport.
Kami filled a bowl with cereal and opened the refrigerator for a gallon of milk. She couldn't find the plastic container and was about to close the door when she noticed a box with a white liquid on the label. She couldn't understand the writing, but she opened it and smelled it. It might be milk.
It felt strange, rummaging through someone else's kitchen like this. She felt almost guilty, like she was breaking and entering. She had to remind herself she'd been invited.
Liam walked into the kitchen. Kami held up the box.
"Can I use this on my cereal?"
"Only if you want to be in the loo all day. That's very potent medicine."
"Oops," she said, opening the fridge door to return it.
"Just kidding. It's milk."
Kami rolled her eyes, pulled out the milk, and shut the door.
Liam grabbed his own bowl and filled it.
Kami downed the cereal and poured a second bowl. She had only eaten her second bite when she heard a door open and close and footsteps coming their way. Her hand froze. Was it her grandparents? What would they think of finding her here, eating their food?
She heard a young female voice call out in Arabic; then she heard a thump. The intruder must have dropped something on the ground. There was no way this could be her grandmother. The voice was too young. She knew she had locked the door. How had someone gotten in? Her heart pounded. She looked around for something she could use as a weapon.
Her eyes caught Liam's; his worried look mimicked her own. He set down the cereal and stood up. She wondered if he was looking for a weapon too. Maybe it would be best to hide.
The voice came closer and closer. It was too late to hide. A slender girl with long black corkscrew curls stepped into the kitchen, saw them, and halted. Her eyes went wide. She rubbed her hands nervously on her jeans and folded her arms in front of her. Her eyes were radiating something. Fear. That was it.
"You're not supposed to be here," she said in English.
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This dedication goes out to one of my favorite writers here on Wattpad - _Ahna_! She is one of the most kind, considerate and talented writers I know. It's been a delight to have her as a reader and I appreciate her enthusiasm for my story. She has two works available here (be warned they are written for a mature audience): The Fates and The Will. Thanks _Ahna_!