Clouds sailed across bright blue skies only partially hidden by the bushy palm fronds above Trueth's hammock. It swayed in the breeze, yet the movement failed to relax her.
She was so lucky to be alive, should be so happy her search for fellow magical beings had ended... .
But she was not and her anxiety was not owed to Metjen's constant sniping. At least that was not the only reason. There was something else she ought to remember, something that kept niggling at the back of her mind. The buzzing of the bees and the distant rush of the traffic made her drowsy, her worries submerged and she dozed off.
'Dinner!' A shout pierced her thoughts, she catapulted from the hammock, a fire bolt exploding from her hand. It slammed into the basin of the fountain with a resounding gong, shocking the sparrows. They flew up, shrilling with disgust.
Metjen's mother stuck her head out of the kitchen window accompanied by the smell of fried garlic. 'Oh, sorry dear, did I disturb you?'
Trueth patted earth from the seat of her shorts. The grass stains remained. 'Nothing to worry about, Mrs. Al-Nour, I intended to get up anyway.' She returned to the living room where Metjen was fiddling knobs on a wall safe previously hidden behind one of the paintings.
'Are those real?' Trueth raised her chin at the impressionist water lilies now leaning against a bookshelf brimming with gilded tomes.
Metjen opened the safe, donned a pair of cotton gloves, lifted out two objects and lovingly placed them on a white cloth spread on the table. 'What do you mean by real, woman? They're painted.'
Heat flushed Trueth's cheeks. There was the other reason for her unease. The Al-Nours outclassed her by far. Better not to engage. She counted to five, then gave up. 'My mother might be on the dole and I might have a job that pays crap, but I'm still capable of recognising a valuable masterpiece.'
'Good for you,' Metjen responded. 'I'm referring to your cognitive skills, not your employment situation.'
Trueth balled her fists and Metjen cocked an eyebrow then raised his palms in a placatory fashion. 'Peace, okay? I told you, you need to relax. I wanted to show you something few people outside our family get to see. You are fellow magical flotsam on this sea of humanity, so I wondered if you might not appreciate this.'
He gently nudged a gold ring resembling the exhibits on display at the Egyptian museum, then tapped a hairy mess interspersed with glittery bits that probably was as ancient as the jewellery, just less attractive.
'What's that thing? Cleopatra's shrunken head?'
'Wrong period, my dear,' Metjen said. 'These are from the Old Kingdom.'
'Old is an understatement. The ring is pretty that other thing—is not. Why do you keep this and the rest of all that stuff in your house? Why not in the museum?' Trueth asked. 'You mentioned the other day that historical finds belong to the Egyptian people.'
'They're not a find, they've always been in my mother's family.' Metjen gave her a dirty look.
Trueth wondered whether this was the right moment to ask about tomb robbers but decided against it.
Metjen tapped the weird hairball again. 'These two items are by far the oldest of all the artefacts we own. There also is an instruction that has been passed down in mum's line. None of this is helpful at all.'
Metjen sighed and placed his heirlooms back in the safe. 'Your inklings concerning your heritage are so much clearer.'
Trueth snorted. 'You must be joking.'
At that moment, Rani-Ra and Ranofer entered the living room almost simultaneously, but only Rani-Ra spoke. 'Don't forget, your line only dates back about five hundred years or so. We're talking five thousand.'
'Yeah, our ancestors were running this country a long time before your witchy great-grandparents climbed from their trees,' Ranofer added. He winked, most likely he assumed he was being funny.
Metjen visibly cringed, but Trueth had got used to Ranofer's teasing by now, he was harmless compared to his older brother.
Rani-Ra said, 'There's a person who could tell us more, but I'm not sure she would willingly do so. She's enigmatic by profession... .'
She twitched, shot an annoyed look at her older brother and stopped talking. Metjen looked suspiciously innocent.
What is going on here? Trueth decided she need to know more. 'Why?'
Ranofer nodded eagerly. 'Well, she's the high priestess of Hathor, and it's her job to be mysterious, only she seems to overdo it recently.'
This time Metjen's eyes flashed once and he pointed at his brother. Ranofer did not react, instead he smiled at Trueth.
High priestess of an ancient goddess? In this day and age? Had that loonie been hitting the booze or was he trying to pull one of his stunts?
More nodding. 'Yes, has Metjen not told you? He's one of the last servants of Ra—Chief Lector Priest actually, second only to Her Wisdom herself. Rani and I will also join eventually, but don't worry about our parents, they're only believers, not initiated or even Blessed by Ra...Ouch, bro are you nuts?' Ranofer doubled up and pressed his hands to his stomach, most likely Metjen had mind-kicked him.
But Trueth had heard enough. The reason for her buried unease came back with a vengeance, and whether she had forgotten or Metjen had cast another spell on her, Trueth was not aware—nor did she care.
There had been that golden sheen coming for her. She had survived that attack. Instead, she got blasted by a firestorm erupting from the eyes of the man who pretended to have saved her life. Well, he had, but why was unclear. She recalled her thoughts at the time, the impression she was dealing with an ancient being not born of her times.
Blessed by Ra? No wonder these people were different, they were mummies; risen from their tombs to threaten the living with their power! The heat exploded inside her with a roar and the flash shot out—only to fizzle into a myriad of sizzling sapphire embers when it crossed the golden ray fired by the horror that called itself Metjen.
It was too much.
Trueth shrieked, burst through the bug screen and raced through the garden, escaping through the back door that led to the garage. She stopped in the street, where to go from here? Frantic thoughts zipped through her mind. Have to get out of here before they come after me! Remembering the road they had taken into town, Trueth dashed through the shaded streets of Maadi at a speed born of desperation. People stared after her as she streaked past, rushing for safety until she reached the Nile. There she stopped, panting. She had to get into town, to the British Embassy, they had passed it on one of their trips, the twins had pointed it out.
As if on cue a car stopped next to her. It displayed diplomatic number plates on the outside and conveyed a bunch of friendly French ladies inside.
'Can we 'elp you?' The driver asked her. Trueth nodded, still gasping. 'I've been...hijacked. I need to...get to my Embassy. I hope you can take me there?'
They could and even drove a detour to drop her as close as possible to her destination. The Frenchies pressed a map and water into Trueth's hands together with an emergency phone number should she meet with trouble. At least this time she had lost only her wallet, not the smart phone. Trueth clambered out the car, waved at its retreating back and received a reassuring honk of the horn in response.
The traffic roared past her as she got her bearings. The madame was right. Only a couple of streets and she would be safe...out of the corner of her eye she noticed a flicker of movement. Her stomach knotted into a lump. That could only be the mummies. This time they would surely kill her.
Her heartbeat pounding, Trueth raced along the street, checking back over her shoulder, hoping she had been mistaken... . But no, she had been only too right. A stocky form in a galabiya seemed to melt away every time she checked. Maybe it was not the mummies? But they camouflaged as mere mortals...?
Stop this, run.
Trueth turned and spurted across the traffic accompanied by the squealing of brakes and the screaming of angry Arabic voices. A horn blared and the huge grille of a tour bus grew an instant wall on her right. As she jumped away from the vehicle, she spotted wriggly golden letters spelling 'Anubis Experience' under the windscreen.
Another trip from hell.
Up front, a narrow alleyway beckoned. I she could hide fast enough she might get rid of her shadow. Trueth sprinted into a gloom that reeked of rotten vegetables, urine and other unspeakable things.Twilight made it hard to see her surroundings, she checked back towards the entrance, saw nothing, slipped on what she hoped was nothing worse than a squished melon and slowed down. Still panting, she tried to listen but all she heard was the sound of another rush-hour in Cairo washing into the alley.
Trueth turned around to see whether there was another exit —and faced a priest from ancient Egypt. The decoration dangling from his neck threw an unsuitably gentle gleam on the man, enough for Trueth to take in a shaven head and a long sheet around his paunch. And a striped garment at his feet. His night-dark eyes were lined in black and lethal embers were stirring their depths as he started to mumble, ripped an object from his collar, and raised his hands over his head.
Trueth tried to raise her heat in response. It never came when she needed it most, and the pepper spray was still in the Maadi House of Horrors. The pockets of her jeans were empty...her fingers got hold of a sticky object which she flung at the attacking monster.
A half dissolved pack of chewing gum hit the thing on the forehead, with a grunt it jerked backwards and dropped the object which exploded in a huff of black. Tiny scarab beetles scuttled towards the safety offered by the garbage.
The monster seemed puzzled, shook its head and ripped another miniature piece from the ornaments it was wearing. Trueth rummaged in her pockets. No weapons—and she had lost the water.
Her mouth dry and her stomach suddenly responding to the pull of gravity she had no choice but watch the spectre launch the thing in her direction. She saw it morph into a yellowish wave rolling towards her, causing her world to spin as she felt herself falling. This time her mistake was fatal.
***
Again, she was awake. But this time Trueth indeed found herself underground. Even if it was impossible to move her head—or any other part of her body—what she could see looked suspiciously like a burial chamber. A chamber unlike any of the tombs she had been forced to visit.
The pictures on the ceiling were so fresh; they might have been applied yesterday. The cobalt of the skies mixed with little five-pointed yellow stars that glimmered in the soft light emanating from nowhere. Across these subterranean heavens the elongated figure of a woman was engaged in a frozen stretching exercise that could only be decidedly painful.
And she did it in the nude.
Rolling her eyes, Trueth recognised the heads of what seemed to be a procession of ancient Egyptian gods circling the walls. Hieroglyphs ran between the individual figures and disappeared from her line of sight. The wall in front of her displayed an oversized sun disc supported by a gigantic scarab beetle that dwarfed the other gods. An aromatic haze hung in the room and she smelled something burning.
This did not make her feel any better.
She wondered whether the ancient Egyptians engaged in human sacrifices, maybe the mummies were storing her in this place until they cut her heart out. Upon second thought, she believed it had been Mexico where they did that.
She noticed a draught and some source of light next to the place where she lay flickered and puffed.
You're a real nuisance. You've got us all into a real scrape. Metjen's cool voice materialised in her head.
Unseen pressure disappeared from her chest, and Trueth found she was able sit up. She had been placed on what appeared from above to be a stone bench, reminding her of those she had seen in the Necropolis. Only, it was much smaller, and the top was covered with a silk mattress decorated with cute tassels on the edges.
A movement on her left brought Metjen into view, and Trueth wished he had remained invisible. He wore a long white sheet around his midriff and the regalia of an ancient priest. With a small gold band encircling his forehead he looked like the menace he was. Trueth wanted to speak but found this to be impossible.
No, you'll listen, I've had enough. I realised in the desert that you seemed to have watched too many bad films... . So I held back and did not tell you about the temple or what my family believes in. But do you really think one can bring back dead people to lurch around, frightening the living? What will you think of next? That vampires exist on Earth, sucking you dry? This is preposterous!
Trueth felt dazed. She was not sure what was worse--the fact that Metjen had read her thoughts or the potential existence of vampires. If bloodsuckers existed, they were likely to team up with the mummies. Or was there only one species of monsters? Who or what was that guy?
I'm 25 years old and not 2500, get that in your idiotic head, will you? Everything I told you is the truth and we've shown you more of our family than anybody else has ever seen. I was so happy I'd found you, and you needed our help. Instead, you behaved like the cretin you are. And now we have a problem as Iseret, our high priestess, believes you can't be trusted. You are to appear before her, and she will appeal to the Lady Maat for judgement.
Nausea rose. One of the mummy vampires would pass judgement on her. That was...bad.
Metjen stood with his back to her and continued his mental diatribe. My only relief is telling Iseret about you. Had she discovered what was going on by accident she would have turned Sakhmet in her wrath. It's bad enough as it is, I promised I was able to keep you under control, but you had to prove me wrong, didn't you?
By now, Metjen's voice was acid eating through her brain. Trueth raised her hand and pointed to her mouth. Metjen whisked around, glared and hissed under his breath. Experimental tongue-waggling revealed that Trueth had regained her power of speech.
'Look—I'm sorry. I was just so scared when you...when you did what you did in the desert. First, I forgot all about it. But I knew there was something I should have remembered. When Ranofer made that comment it all came rushing back, and I haven't been myself recently. I haven't been myself for a long time. I don't even know what or who I am?' As usual she was not making much sense.
'You forced me to veil your mind,' Metjen said. He had stopped opposite the plinth where he blocked out the over-dimensioned scarab, his arms straight down his sides, hands balled into fists. 'I was searching for an opportunity to explain things to you. It's clear that servant of Ra is not a profession they would offer you at the job centre.'
'I've had a problem with religion ever since I learned what the Holy Inquisition did to my people,' Trueth said, not convinced it was a good idea to tell a priest in his natural habitat about one's issues with faith.
'We're not the Inquisition!' Metjen snapped. He turned around to examine the procession of gods on the walls forever walking into eternity.
Trueth said, 'Can you please take this—whatever it is off me so that I can move? I promise I'll do nothing stupid—unless there is anything else I should know?'
Metjen snorted. 'You know more than enough. I will remove the Feet of Ptah but beware—if you make one more hasty movement you'll regret it and I'll give you the Hands of Osiris!'
Trueth blinked. She was not surprised to learn that mummiform gods were involved after all. And she regretted ever listening to the professor when he had delivered his detailed lecture on all this stuff back at the garden palace.
Her lower limbs prickled with renewed sensation, so she lowered herself from the stone plinth with care. Habit forced her to check her watch. It had stopped. She must have been down here quite a while.
'Know that we believe in the Maat, the eternal balance of justice and you have disturbed it by risking our exposure. We can't let this happen. Fortunately, my friend Khafa was in the area. If I had been forced to knock you out from afar, I'm not sure about the repercussions,' Metjen said.
'You could've done that—get me at the Embassy when you are down at your place?' Trueth stared at that blast from the past who dipped his head once.
'This is not your main concern,' Metjen said. 'Iseret wants to see you to decide your fate. Listen to me: When you enter the chamber, you prostrate yourself on the floor. You're not required to do so, but it will help. Don't rise before she tells you. Don't raise your head until she asks you. Don't speak until spoken to. If you think I'm scary, you'll be surprised. This is serious—do you understand?'
Metjen grabbed the sleeve of her T-shirt and nearly ripped it off. Trueth nodded as her throat went dry. 'But how am I going to defend myself?' she asked.
'You don't. I will. Follow me.'
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I hope you liked this chapter. If you did, please let me have your feedback - and votes. Thank you!
This chapter is dedicated to @DawnWiens Thank you for reading and voting on 'Cursed Times - Only Yesterday' Sorry, this was the only free chapter I currently have available!! XD