The Ka E-Book

Mary Deal

• Herausgeber: Next Chapter
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

Archaeology student Chione has vivid dreams about the discovery of an opulent tomb. After the founder of the Institute of Archaeology learns that Chione's dreams might be connected to events in Egypt, he accepts an offer to examine a mysterious site in the Valley of the Queens.

When they discover a burial chamber, ancient spells transport Chione and her ex-boyfriend, archaeologist Aaron Ashby, 3,500 years into the past. There, they learn of Tutankhamon and Tauret, a priestess in Pharaoh's Court.

Soon, Chione and Aaron discover that they have been chosen to play a crucial part in Tauret's plan.

Leseprobe

The Ka

The portion of the spirit of the deadthat remains inside the tomb.

Mary Deal

Copyright (C) 2017 Mary Deal

Layout design and Copyright (C) 2019 by Next Chapter

Published 2019 by Next Chapter

Cover art by CoverMint

Edited by Amanda Williams

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the author's permission.

Titles by Mary Deal

Fiction

The Ka, a paranormal Egyptian suspense

River Bones, the original Sara Mason Mystery

The Howling Cliffs, 1st sequel to River Bones

Legacy of the Tropics, adventure/suspense

Down to The Needle, a thriller

Collections

Off Center in the Attic – Over the Top Stories

Nonfiction

Write It Right – Tips for Authors – The Big Book

Write It Right – Tips For Author – Vol. I - 2nd Ed.

Writer It Right – Tips for Authors – Vol II

Hypno-Scripts: Life-Changing Techniques Using

Self-Hypnosis and Meditation

For Ron Holte

…who had more faith in me than I had in myself in the beginning. His encouragement has had a profound effect on my writing life.

Acknowledgements

My son, Dean Alan Deal, for his unending encouragement and support, having read and critiqued every major book manuscript I've written.

Elizabeth English, Founder & Executive Director, Moondance International Film Festival; for her continued advice, expertise, encouragement, and friendship.

Lori Kikumoto, whose keen-eyed scrutiny helped polish the manuscript.

The late Richard D. Robbins, MD and Writer, for constantly exchanging roles of student and mentor with me during the all too brief time we wrote together.

Letisha Teserak, Librarian, who pushed me to get this manuscript started, and who supplied me with every book and video about Egypt found in Hawaii's libraries across the Islands.

Magda Batstone, who shipped nearly her entire private Egyptian library from California to Hawaii, and who allowed me to retain it for research for over a year.

Author photo by Faces Studio and Salon, Honolulu, Hawaii.

1

“Witch!” Randy Osborne said as he strode around the room wearing a contemptible smirk. “You're an out 'n out witch.”

“Your choice of labels defines your ignorance,” Chione said, not backing down from his stare. Witch was his mother's terminology. He always listened to her. Randy seemed unable to form his own opinions. If pressed, he always quoted his mother.

“Here, here,” Clifford Rawlings said in her support as he threw a fist into the air.

Others in the group expressed mixed reactions, but Chione Ini-Herit had grown emotionally strong enough to withstand Randy's cruel taunting. Shortly after they met, and she learned of interning with him, she decided that anything Randy said would not tear at her equilibrium. Her passive attitude, till now, kept him in line.

This was the first time Chione had a chance to see all the members of the archaeological team together in one room. They were older and, at times, a little intimidating. Her own demeanor was quiet, meditative; maybe passive-aggressive, and she sometimes became overwhelmed with their high-spirited personalities. Yet, being allowed to accompany these professionals to the dig site in Egypt was the chance of a lifetime. Presently, she would be happy to sit back and watch the team members goad one another. Information came at her so quickly it numbed her senses. With the whole team together, their voices assaulted her eardrums in round after round of quips and retorts that would send the meek fleeing. Getting to know these people could not wait until they arrived at the dig site when work would proceed at full speed. The only way to get to know them as a team began here. Now.

Aaron Ashby stepped up behind her. “You don't know the meaning of witch, Randy.” Chione felt Aaron's hand touch her shoulder, but he removed it right away, minding his manners. “What gives you the right to label anyone?”

“Because she predicted our discovery,” Randy said, “and danger near some small tombs. What did she say… that the bone yard is haunted, and that our find could change history? Ha!” He rocked back on his heels. “Sounds like a typical psychic reading.” He glared at her again. “Even your Egyptian looks spook me. Why don't you crop that black hair of yours about ear length like the Egyptians used to—?”

“If Chione's appearance spooks you, Randy,” Kendra Laker said succinctly. “Maybe you need to scrutinize your own image.”

Chione became flustered and wondered why they stood up for her. She could hold her own in her quiet way. The group seemed too willing in their zeal to pounce on Randy. During the planning stages of the expedition, envy among some of the lesser staff at the California Institute of Archaeology predicted the team would not hold together. It would not be because of the diverse backgrounds of each in the field of archaeology, but due to the clash of personalities and ego opposites.

“Excuse me, Mr. Osborne,” Aaron said. “Any learned archaeologist knows that in Egypt those small tombs are mastabas.”

“And what you so unprofessionally label the boneyard,” Clifford said, “is a necropolis.”

Eager anticipation, as well as irritability, hung heavy in the small conference room at the five-star Re-Harakhty Hotel in Cairo. Jet lag had gripped them all. Despite air conditioning, the crowded conference room was stuffy. The moment for which all had waited was upon them. The small group of colleagues milled around impatiently awaiting the arrival of Dr. Sterling Withers. Before the team made their way south along the Nile to Valley of the Queens, he was to deliver one final briefing on this, the first advantageous opportunity to befall the Institute and that tempted to be the find of a lifetime.

Archaeologist Dr. Sterling Withers inherited a fortune in croplands in the California Central Valley. Yet his interest had never been in what grew from the soil but what lay buried beneath it. He quickly leased out most of the land to crop farmers but retained the residential portion to manifest his lifelong dream of a privately held archaeological institute. The Institute's monstrous old Victorian main building, with its attendant, renovated and new smaller structures that comprised the facility, sat off the main road. Situated on a verdant patch of green acreage, the cluster of buildings was canopied and sheltered from the heat and dust by decades-old shade trees. Perfectly timed, the Institute opened its doors with the New Millennium. Lathrop, California became a bigger dot on the map. After several years of hoping to find a new dig site, the Institute's exploration team auspiciously happened upon a tomb that had remained sealed for how long, no one yet knew with certainty.

Chione glanced out the window of the top floor hotel conference room and over the resort grounds, replete with monstrous swimming pools and lavish amenities. Though she detested commercialism, just being in Cairo, or anywhere in Egypt, made everything right. Still, she could not shed the luxury fast enough. Something had taken hold of her. She yearned to get to the dig site and down into that hole in the ground.

Off in the distance, clouds of sand blew on air currents. They reminded her how summer lingered in the California Central Valley. The late fall season had not been the traditional mild Indian summer like many others. There was no escape. Everyone suffered. Any place in the world would have offered a reprieve from the antagonizing heat, but traveling to the Egyptian desert was not where anyone would seek respite from the sizzle of the California Central Valley. Now that they had finally arrived in Egypt, having to wait to learn last minute details of the project fueled impatience and made tempers flare.

Randy's snicker brought her thoughts back into the room.

Aaron sighed. “You don't get it, do you, Randy?”

“What's to get?”

“That's what makes Chione so gifted. She has no skeletons dancing in her closets.”

“You mean because everyone knows her secrets?”

Chione felt pangs of anger at being taunted by Randy and freely talked about. She harbored no illusions about the condition of her life. She glanced at Kendra with a wry smile. They were aware of the fact that her reproductive organs were underdeveloped leaving her unable to bear children. She did not care who knew and because of that, in her mind, she felt free. One day, Randy would get his comeuppance. Now, she intended to let the scene play out, partly to get to know the team, and because Randy could make a fool of himself without any help from her. Randy's inclusion in the project deterred any emotional high the team might experience. Intolerance would be tempered by the work.

Tall, muscular Aaron passed a handkerchief over his forehead, then over the back of his neck as he paced at the rear of the room. Finally, he took a chair at the end of the conference table. Chione knew Aaron had to force himself to bite his tongue as he watched the mixture of amused grins and disapproving frowns exchanged among the others. She watched Aaron vent anger as he slashed random crosshatch lines on a notepad. This was not the first time Randy tried to trash another person's reputation to enhance his own. He was trying to discredit her into losing her place on the team. She lacking a Ph.D. like the others, Randy voiced disbelief at her being chosen to work on the most significant archaeological exploration in recent history.

“The fact that Chione's so open about her private life,” Bebe Hutton said from across the room, “doesn't give anyone permission to make a mockery of it.” Bebe's habit was to remain quiet and observe, saying only enough to quell a situation or incite further interest when needed. She would hold her composure and watch the turning of events.

“You belittle her because she happens to outdistance you in practical intelligence,” Clifford Rawlings said as he stared at Randy with disgust. When the mature and learned Egyptologist Dr. Rawlings spoke, everyone respected and listened, despite frequent lapses into the satirical. To look upon the man offered a view of a person approaching old age with a stately posture and whose clothes were always trendy and fresh. He had gray at his temples and a demeanor sculpted by time. Except when in one of his frequent comical moods. Then it was difficult at best to take him seriously. People said he turned over the management of his Napa Valley winery to a management team because he did not need the bottle to enhance his humor. In reality, the winery was only a tax shelter.

“I agree,” Kendra said. The natural sparkle of her green eyes teased. “Chione does have a special sense of intuition.” Kendra's wiry energy resonated on every word, driving a point home.

“But—”

“Leave it alone, Randy,” Clifford said.

Randy stood supported with a hand on the back of a chair, flagging a leg back and forth as if his underwear might be caught in the wrong place. Then he lifted the leg a couple of times in a last-ditch effort to end his discomfort. His personal habits were reason for a good snicker among the team, who could politely ridicule one another, then laugh. At times, criticism from any of them seemed in jest, a way this group of high-strung colleagues dealt with stress. At other times, Randy's behavior was repulsive. He seemed to take great comfort in eating all the time and, thanks to his mother packing his lunch, he always had an ample supply of food nearby to pick at. His continual weight gain and lack of personal hygiene turned people off. He always looked sweaty and wrinkled, with matted hair. No one relished the idea of sharing a tent with him in the heat of the desert. Finally, he reached behind himself and gave the seat of his pants a tug. Not the kind of professional posture one would expect from a Physical Anthropologist who worked with genetics and biochemistry.

Chione wished Randy would get the point that his taunting could not discredit her accomplishments. She tried to be exacting in anything she did and had no plans to change her ways. He probably found that intimidating.

Aaron glanced at her and smiled secretly at the comments tossed on her behalf. Chione was well aware that Aaron still loved her, yet contained his feelings, sometimes behind indifference, which she easily read because she had always understood him. Aaron, too, hoped Randy would not be included in their upcoming expedition.

Kendra persisted. Her love of limelight would not allow her to turn her back on anything as attention-grabbing as a paranormal prediction come true. “Chione's dreams predicted this tomb would be found,” she said, “predicted that mournful sound would lead our exploratory team to it.”

“Similar to the singing Colossi of Memnon at Thebes,” Bebe said, referring to the two north statues which some thought to be Amenhotep's mother, Mutemuia, and Queen Tyi. She had learned to rattle off the Egyptian names as easily as she spoke English. “Tyi's statue was the one thought to emit the singing. Our tomb was discovered because of similar noises emitting from it.” Bebe was old-fashioned and skeptical of the paranormal, even as she talked about the recent incontestable events. She would be eager to put her knowledge of Egyptian history to work. Her professionalism as a historian was reputed to be unequaled. She looked the part, serious and educated, but with a matronly figure. Her brown hair would erase years if lightened and styled otherwise. Yet, she was the epitome of today's professionally groomed middle-aged businesswoman.

“You see?” Randy asked, seizing the moment and raising his voice. “Only a witch could prognosticate finding a hidden tomb.”

“Or someone with a sixth sense finely tuned to what she's doing,” Aaron said, standing again.

“But to predict? Tell me, did she forecast this tomb dating to the 18th Dynasty before those first relics were unearthed?”

“Does it really matter?” Clifford asked. “Fact is, Chione dreamed it all, from the mournful sounds to someone stumbling over a stone and falling into a hole.”

“A hole that led to the passageway of a tomb,” Aaron said. His smile was smug and showed he was thoroughly pleased about her extrasensory abilities. With Aaron partially in command, he would not let Randy's personality throw the proverbial wrench into the mechanism every time he opened his mouth.

She was glad she had not told anyone but Aaron that she had caught strange flu-like symptoms a couple months back, about the time she began having those revealing dreams. She thought that, perhaps, the dreams had a deep psychological effect on her nervous system and hoped her unpredictably queasy stomach and other symptoms would pass. Luckily, Aaron was trustworthy and had not told anyone. Knowing that someone in the group understood her and how she received her extrasensory information was helpful too. Her occasional nausea was gradually diminishing. Had Randy learned about the lingering malaise, he would have seen to it that she was prevented from accompanying the team anywhere.

Chione discreetly glanced at Aaron, and then quickly looked away. She needed to hide the fact that she remained quite taken with him. The desire for some degree of intimacy recently returned. His promotion to becoming Dr. Withers' understudy and second in command meant they would now work side by side. That was all she could allow. Somehow, she knew that while working closely he would try to gain back what they shared and try to convince her to give him another chance. He was a decent guy; the only one to comprehend what she was all about. Not only that, she had shown him that with a little more study and self-knowledge he could develop his own unique abilities. The possibilities fascinated him.

As an adopted child, she endured an unfulfilled need to know who she was and clung to her adoptive mother and father. Their divorce left her devastated. Then came her second adoptive father, an Egyptian, whom she adored and whose name she took. Yet, his nurturing only made her more dependent.

Soon after she and Aaron met came the most disparaging news of all. How devastated she felt after learning she would never bear children. She interpreted it as an omen to share her life with no one, and to find strength in being alone. When she and Aaron parted, she made it clear that she could not cling to anyone any longer. Perhaps her consolation did come with solitude. After all, self-imposed seclusion perfected her special mental gifts. No one truly understood those peculiar qualities and that cinched the concept of separatism in her mind.

The fact that Aaron had been open-minded and made a gigantic effort to broaden his understanding of alternate realities offered hope, especially since his own awareness expanded with the experiences. She believed it wise that his and her lives remain separate. He might fall in love with someone else and have the family he desired. However, the thought of him loving someone other than her created a confused sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Recently, she began to yearn again for him and that was forcing her to confront her feelings. Clearly, Aaron seemed not about to give up on her, or on the development of his extrasensory abilities. She felt rushed to sort things out.

“This whole paranormal thing baffles me,” Bebe said. “Can we run through it again to help me understand?”

Kendra eagerly picked up the momentum and described how Chione first had a dream about mournful sounds connected to a tomb in Egypt. Chione had not told Dr. Withers, but told his wife, Marlowe, who later related it to him. Dr. Withers thought nothing of it. About the same time, Clifford heard from a friend at the Madu Museum in Cairo relating that a grave robber looking for tombs to plunder heard a sound like whimpering near some mastabas.

“Coincidence,” Randy said, drumming his fingers against the backrest of a chair.

“Lucky for us,” Clifford said. “The grave robber claiming the necropolis was haunted scared people out of the area.”

“Gimme a break,” Randy said.

Clifford continued, saying the people from the Antiquities Society of Egypt thought something had shifted or been unearthed which caused the sounds to be made by the wind. His friend at Antiquities knew he was looking to organize some work in Egypt and suggested the Institute send an exploratory team. “Which we did,” Clifford said. “But I, myself, hadn't heard about Chione's dream. And I didn't tell our illustrious leader about the mournful sounds, only about the possibility of a new dig site.”

Clifford helped himself to a drinking glass and bottle of water kept cool in a small tub on the credenza against the wall. He poured himself a drink but passed the water to Bebe holding out her hand. Chione produced her pocket flask and poured a drink of Egyptian Karkade, a scarlet tea made from the hibiscus flower, which could be drunk hot or cold.

Aaron explained that after Dr. Withers sent the exploratory team, Chione told Marlowe of her second dream about a guy stumbling over a block and falling into a hole that led to finding a tomb. A few days later, Clifford heard that one of the men on the exploratory team stumbled over a block and fell into a hole. “When Dr. Withers was told—confirming Chione's dream that none of us had heard,” Aaron said, “Dr. Withers and Ginny rushed here to Egypt to be with the exploratory team.”

“Ginny McLain got to see before any of us?” Randy asked.

“She's our photographer,” Clifford said, smiling his most ridiculous grin as if sticking a pin into Randy's inflated self-worth.

“I'm glad Dr. Withers was present when they discovered the entrance,” Kendra said. “He himself was down on knees in that hole scraping away rubble with his bare hands.”

Bebe listened intently. “As I understand it,” she said. “Chione knew none of the details happening at the site, or even about an exploratory team being sent.”

Randy sighed pathetically and looked out a window. “We'd have found the tomb without Chione's dreams. If she's such a great seer, why does she need any of us?”

Again, Chione only rolled her eyes at the others and caught a glimpse of Aaron hurting for her. Someone would surely comment, so she decided to withhold and simply watch the fireworks.

“If Chione's senses are so keenly honed that she dreams what we're about,” Kendra said in her no-nonsense way. “It's we who need her.”

“She's obsessed with things Egyptian,” Randy said, flagging a hand as if he could not be bothered. “She kept her lunch under that shiny black diorite pyramid on her office credenza instead of in the fridge like the rest of us.”

“If I remember correctly,” Clifford said. “You used to store your lunch with hers when she interned with you.”

Randy smiled sheepishly. “It was novel.”

“Sure it was,” Kendra said. “But you claimed the mayonnaise in your sandwich never melted and that your salad stayed crisp.”

“The salad wasn't cold, though.”

“I wouldn't take pyramid power lightly,” Bebe said, surprising everyone. “Truth is, weren't all our knife edges keenly honed when Chione brought in her glass pyramid and demonstrated its effect?”

“That convinced me,” Clifford said. Good hearted Clifford would give anyone the benefit of the doubt.

“Aaron changed when he met you,” Randy said, turning and finally addressing her directly. “And the birthday party for Rita. Were you trying to cast spells with that party you threw for Clifford's wife? Even your tiny place is cluttered Egyptian.”

“I'm Egyptian,” Chione said, though she wasn't born Egyptian.

“Egypt appeals to her, Randy,” Kendra said quickly. “She grew up with Egyptian history and culture—”

“Because her mother loved Egypt and gave her an Egyptian name that means Daughter of the Nile,” Randy said. “How is it that American woman adopts an American child who grows up looking like Nefertiti's sister? Chione even uses her stepfather's name.”

“Chione Grant Ini-Herit,” Bebe said, enunciating. “She's never given up her first father's name.”

By now, Kendra and Bebe had moved to stand beside her, opposite Randy on the other side of the conference table. She was beginning to feel claustrophobic. She did not need anyone standing up for her and would have to do something about Randy, and soon. He was getting out of hand.

“At least she claims her roots,” Kendra said, pointedly reminding Randy how he openly blamed his shortcomings on a domineering mother.

“Chione wishes she were Egyptian,” Randy said. “Heaven knows if she could have a baby, it would probably look like that heretic Akhenaten.”

Aaron slammed a scratchpad onto the tabletop. “Wrong again, Randolph. Chione's too beautiful. The child would probably more resemble Nefertiti or even King Tut. Certainly not your mentor.”

“That's right,” Randy said. “It's been said you resemble the Boy King.”

Aaron lunged, clutched Randy's shirtfront and drew back a fist.

Clifford grabbed Aaron's wrist. “Enough!” he said as he stepped in between. “Here comes Sterling.”

2

Dr. Withers walked through the doorway in a huff. His average build was slightly stooped. His suit jacket flapped open at his sides. “Good morning, everyone,” he said in a voice that took command and stopped cold anything that might be going on. He dropped his briefcase onto the tabletop and motioned for Chione to sit in the seat closest to him. Then he took his seat opposite Aaron at the other end of the long table.

No one spoke. They waited eagerly to hear about the excavation site. Due to flight delays and other snafus, he had not had time to deliver a final briefing before the team departed to Egypt. Dr. Withers pulled at his mustache and made eye contact with each person over bifocals. He took a good look at Randy who sat sweating profusely. Aaron glared at Randy and gritted his teeth as the muscles in his jowls tightened.

“Aaron,” Dr. Withers said suddenly. “Give me a recap of things on your end.”

Aaron flipped through a few sheets of his notepad. The margins of the pages were covered with random crosshatches. When had the articulate Aaron Ashby begun the messy habit of doodling? “Only a recap?” he asked.

“That's all I've got time for. I want to hear your report and mentally,” he said, motioning toward his temple, “put the pieces together.”

“Well,” Aaron said. “If our find had garnered the type of publicity we anticipated, we'd have been assured of additional grants to help fund this project.” Others in the group could not contain their disappointment and slipped snide glances in Randy's direction. “Other than those already on board,” Aaron said, looking doubtful, “most professionals in our field have voiced an unequivocal disinterest.”

“Disinterest?” Dr. Withers asked, grabbing the edge of the table with both hands. “Dis… interest? Even the biggies back east?”

“Especially the biggies. The rumors, sir. They don't like the rumors about Chione's dreams, let alone believe in her abilities overall.”

“When the hell did that get out?”

Aaron stared straight into Dr. Withers' eyes and would not disclose the rest. It would not be his style to inform on Randy regardless of personal disgust for the man. Finally, Aaron shrugged. “After Clifford and his contacts managed to pull this find in our direction, we were getting flooded with offers for funding.” He shook his head. “However, the upside is that after the leak, the ones who are with us now, regardless of rumor, will be unequivocally supportive.”

Dr. Withers' lips tightened. His deflated expression changed to that of a person conjuring retribution. “The press, what are they saying?”

“Making light of the paranormal, I'm afraid.”

Just then the lights flickered. They flickered again then went out, leaving the room strangely lit from sunlight filtering through the window curtains.

“Good ol' predictable Cairo,” Clifford said.

The lights flickered on and off several times. Dr. Withers lips pinched together again. While he had a sense of humor, he also detested interruptions.

Clifford leaned back in his chair and raised both arms up toward the ceiling lights. “Dah-dah-h-h!” he said. They flicked on again and stayed.

“Magic,” Kendra said.

Randy's head flopped from side to side with an expression indicating he could not tolerate another allusion to anything paranormal.

“Aaron,” Dr. Withers said, calling everyone to attention again. “Anything better than that?”

“We've awarded first news release rights to the San Francisco Sentinel,” Aaron said as he flipped through pages. “Besides showing positive interest, they will vindicate us even if our find turns up empty.”

“What leads you to that conclusion?”

“We're giving them first rights. They wanted exclusive coverage, but they won't refuse any deal. They're already on their way to the site and will probably accept whatever we offer. This is a biggie for them. It's usually the East Coast or international papers that get handed this type of privilege.”

“How do they feel about Chione's influence?” Kendra asked.

Aaron smiled. “They'll take it all in stride. After all, one of their journalists plays the stock market…using numerology.”

Dr. Withers settled back and twitched his mustache, a sure sign he was thinking. “Would be nice if we had a Lord Carnarvon.” Finally, after another silence, which meant he had shifted mental gears, he adjusted his glasses and began again. “I want you all to prepare yourselves for one of two events.” Everyone leaned forward. “Either we're about to unearth a barren tomb long ago plundered of its riches—”

“Or?” Kendra and Bebe asked in unison.

“Or… hopefully, we stand to unearth the greatest Egyptian find since Howard Carter's time.”

Pandemonium broke loose. Dr. Withers sat patiently waiting till their reactions calmed.

“Just how far into the dig are we?” Clifford asked finally.

“We dug out the hole that our guy fell into. We suctioned out and strained the backfill from inside the entrance passageway,” Dr. Withers said, relating in his methodical way. “Farther in, we discovered a portcullis, which we left in place. I made sure the tomb was sealed before I left. In the interim, workers are setting up yurts for our use.”

“And those first artifacts?” Clifford asked.

“The day we left, Ginny was filming those few relics found buried inside the entrance. She also shot the entire area before we so much as lifted a shovel.”

“What tantalizes you into believing this could be a rich discovery?” Kendra asked.

Dr. Withers thought a moment and then leaned up close over the table as if he did not wish anyone else to hear. “Because those few 18th Dynasty artifacts hint… at a royal tomb.”

Everyone had something to say. How well they knew the feeling of digging till disappointed or excavating into pay dirt. Suddenly the atmosphere was charged again.

“What more, Dr. Withers?” Bebe asked.

“We all stand to make history,” he said, barely able to contain his excitement. “The fact that those first menial relics were not already plundered, and that the portcullis is intact, tells me the tomb beyond has remained sealed for thousands of years. Till now, till someone tripped.”

Aaron rocked back in his chair smiling at the whims of fate, something he always claimed had a powerful force all its own. This was the news everyone needed to hear. Confirmation of Chione's premonition dreams was the reason Dr. Withers rushed to join the exploratory team, but gloating was not her style. This was reality for her and her ego had nothing to do with it.

“Sterling?” Bebe asked, prompting him.

“Oh, excuse me,” Dr. Withers said. “When I heard about the mysterious sounds, like you, Bebe, I fixated on the Singing Colossi.” He shook his head thoughtfully. “One thing we don't explore is the wind.” He chuckled. “I'll bet that guy who first heard those sounds got scared right out of his turban.” He threw a fist into the air. “I'll bet that put an end to one grave robber's career.” Everyone cheered, but Dr. Withers quieted and leaned forward over the tabletop with a pensive gleam in his eyes. “When I was down on my hands and knees in that hole,” he said, “I had a déjà vu experience.”

“Really?” Kendra asked.

“I felt like we had just finished sealing that tomb and here I was opening it again.”

Hearing his paranormal experience left the others speechless. Quiet filled the room. Chione hoped no one resented the importance Dr. Withers placed on her presence. She was being used for some sort of channeling. She, too, felt overwhelmed.

Dr. Withers again broke the silence. “Let's not forget Clifford's part in all this,” he said. “Without his affiliation with the Madu Museum and that inspector buddy, Paki Rashad from the Antiquities Society, this exploration could have been bequeathed to some big university.”

“Or to a well-known museum,” Aaron said. “Because they have financial clout.”

“Or to some wealthy patron who cares not one iota about digging in the hot sun,” Bebe said. “Unless there's a reward for personal coffers.”

“Wish we had a filthy rich patron on our side,” Dr. Withers said.

“Let's hear it for Clifford and his contacts,” Kendra said. “Here, here.”

They toasted, raising water glasses. Randy only smiled.

“You gonna be a part of this group or what?” Aaron asked, prodding Randy to toast.

After taking a sip, Clifford waved his hand to be heard. “You may not understand what I'm going to say,” he said, looking around the group. “But listen up. The negotiations went too easily, just fell into our laps, like this was meant to be—like there's another reason it's all happening specifically to us.”

“Uh-oh,” Randy said. “Chione's mumbo-jumbo's gotten through to you.”

Clifford nearly choked. “Until you learn how to read your own gut,” he said. “Don't condemn others who do.”

Chione stared at the tabletop. From her dreams, she gleaned other reasons why each of them may have been chosen. They came from varied backgrounds and had reputable experiences. Having ended up together at the new and unproven California Institute of Archaeology did not feel coincidental. Until the visions provided clearer answers, she would not disclose any fragments of information and risk sounding like a fortuneteller. She would watch each in the group deftly play out their parts as events unfolded in the days and weeks to come.

“Even the funding obtained, Dr. Withers,” Aaron said. “The donors just about dumped the cash on the table.”

“Still,” Dr. Withers said. “It's only enough to get in, do the job, and get out.”

“What about delays?” Bebe asked. “Unforeseen events, cost overruns, things like that?”

“Our benefactors aren't that wealthy. It's all we have now, considering the leaks that got out,” Dr. Withers said, shaking his head again. “Our Institute's too new, still got a reputation to prove.”

“Wish we had a bigger cushion,” Clifford said, shaking his head thoughtfully.

“Regardless,” Dr. Withers said. “As a professional group, this is our expedition to what might well be the most intriguing Egyptian find since Howard Carter persisted.”

“If not now, we'll at least be poised for future grants,” Bebe said.

“So, let's get on with our meeting. I need to count heads.” Dr. Withers flipped through his paperwork. “Let's go around the table. Bebe Hutton, you've decided to postpone your surgery for the duration of our stay here? You're very much needed, but let me stress,” he said, pointing into the air again. “You'd better consider your health.”

“It wasn't I who chose to delay the surgery,” Bebe said. “My new gynecologist insists my symptoms will diminish with natural remedies.” She rolled her eyes. “Wish they'd hurry.”

Bebe could be so reserved, yet at times, curiously open about her female problems that caused many absences from work. The entire group knew of Bebe's post-menopausal malaise. In fact, they all knew one another on fairly personal levels. Understanding each other was what made them bond together as a tight-knit team despite the bickering. They could not help themselves. Or, according to Chione's dream fragments, these particular people might simply be acting out predestined scripts.

“Okay, so you're on board. Did Kenneth come along?”

“He had hoped I'd slow down after our years in South America,” Bebe said. “His back's been acting up, but he never let a little bullet stop him.”

“Next, Clifford Rawlings, with your wife?”

“Need you ask? I should have retired five years ago, but Egypt again?” His grin stretched ear to ear. “Rita says when I do retire, we should just move here and buy our burial plots in Garden City.”

“Aaron Ashby? Did you bring a friend?”

Aaron glanced quickly at Chione, and she pretended not to see. “Just me, and raring to go.”

“Oh, yes. I learned something about you before you joined the Institute,” Dr. Withers said. “You've been through the Holy Land, so the Nile should be right up your alley.”

“Yes, sir. The Holy Land was totally a spiritual experience. I'm eager to see Egypt as well.”

“Next, Randy Osborne?”

Randy puffed up his chest and pulled back his chin. “I'm also rarin' to learn how much of Chione's so-called predictions come true.”

“Randy,” Dr. Withers said. “What I'm attempting to learn is who brought a significant other and who didn't. That's all.”

Randy looked sheepish again. “Just me,” he said. “I work better alone.”

Dr. Withers raised an eyebrow then continued. “Kendra Laker?”

“Royce wouldn't miss this either. It's like coming home again.”

“How many times does this make you?”

“We've already logged a dozen trips along the Nile. This is lucky thirteen.”

“Well now,” Dr. Withers said. “With Chione, that makes eleven of us, counting Marlowe and me—”

“Why was Chione allowed to come?” Randy asked, blurting it out too forcefully.

Chione's ire had been triggered. Before she could respond for herself, Dr. Withers dropped a fist onto the tabletop. She had never known anyone as belligerent as Randy. No one said a word as Dr. Withers struggled to maintain his composure. Randy had overstepped his bounds and the only person to take the situation in hand would be Dr. Withers, who stood and leaned on his knuckles as he glared at Randy. “To those who know her,” he said, “Chione… is… Egypt. Period.”

Kendra turned and smiled at Aaron as she always did as if to confirm they had gotten the best of Randy again. She always looked to Aaron for assurance. Stranger still was how people said he and Kendra resembled one another. No one would guess Kendra was nearly forty. Aaron once asked if that made him look older than his thirty-three years. He and Kendra both had pale green eyes and wavy brownish-blonde hair, but he saw no resemblance and wished Kendra would consider changing her hair color. Luckily, his pastimes enabled him to spend time outdoors where the sun streaked red through his.

Dr. Withers sat down again. “I've heard enough,” he said in a tone that left Randy to stew in his despicable attitude. He looked up from his notes and pursed his lips as he studied the group. Finally, he said, “As much as I hesitate to delay, I want all of us to take a few days' vacation—”

“First?” Randy said, blurting again. “Let's just get into the dig.”

“First,” Dr. Withers said as he glared at Randy over the top of his glasses. “You'll allow me to finish.” He took a moment then smiled again at the others. “I propose we spend a few days touring Cairo or other points of interest. You've all been working just as hard on this project back in California as anyone at the site. Those of you who have not been to Egypt, Bebe and Kenneth, and you, Aaron—”

“And me,” Randy said, waving a hand.

“And you, Randy,” Dr. Withers said, rolling his eyes, “will have a chance to experience some of the Nile Valley with the rest of us. During this time, you can put jet lag behind you and become acclimated to the drastic change in climate. October in the desert may be a little warm but cold at night.”

“Are you proposing we take some excursions along the Nile together?” Kendra asked. Her excitement was infectious.

“That's if we can stand one another,” Dr. Withers said, almost laughing. “This morning, though, we're scheduled to go to the Madu Museum to meet the curators and see where our tomb's relics will be housed. After that, you're on your own.” Despite his business as usual attitude, it was known that he, too, enjoyed the camaraderie of a finely tuned group. He had a reputation for being fair and fun around the campfire when the day was over. He shot a finger into the air, and raising his voice said, “Lastly, there's a crucial little matter on which we must come together.”

3

Conversation ended abruptly. Dr. Withers looked at her again. He had the kindest eyes. She could read him well. He was about to discuss her and his eyes begged for patience. “At issue here is whether or not some of you can work with Chione Ini-Herit without letting personal resentments get in the way.” He stared straight at Randy.

She knew that Dr. Withers had grown fond of her and her abilities, especially since her premonitions had provided the chance to validate his dream of a private institute that held its own. He had toyed with the idea of retiring but changed his mind at the first sign of opportunity. Then too, his wife, Marlowe, who held a lifelong interest in the paranormal, had been fascinated and befriended her a couple of years earlier.

Dr. Withers waited. Finally, he said, “I don't have time to hear any of you privately. If you don't care to comment out in the open right now, after today you can put a lid on personal grievances.”

There was a moment of silence but then Bebe raised her hand. “I don't have a grievance,” she said. “I used to see Chione as excess, even felt intimidated by her knowledge. But the more I learned about her, the more I realized she's a self-taught historian. Egypt is new to me, and she's fluent in hieroglyphs. I could learn from her.” Her smile seemed sincere and, for the first time, Chione felt a rapport with Bebe.

Dr. Withers seemed pleased to hear something positive. “Your exceptional reputation as a historian precedes you, Bebe. I'm glad you feel that way.”

“So? We already have one historian,” Randy said. “Chione's assignments can be covered by any of us.”

Kendra shook her head as if she could not believe what she had just heard. “What exactly do you see as being her assignments?”

“So far as this trip is concerned, she's assigned to hieroglyph interpretation and to transcribe Bebe's manuscripts which will document our work. And logging, secretarial stuff with you, Kendra, as conservator of artifacts and inventories.”

“A valuable person indeed,” Clifford said.

“Minor stuff,” Randy said.

“Is that your grievance, Randy?” Dr. Withers asked.

He reached over and took hold of her hand. The moment their hands met, a shot of energy assaulted her nervous system. “Oh!” Chione said as she pulled her hand away. She had just received a psychometric impression from the touch. That was one way her extrasensory perceptions occurred, unexpected, spontaneous, in the middle of a thought or conversation. Vivid or vague, suddenly there, quickly gone.

“What happened?” Kendra asked.

The others looked inquisitive. Except Aaron. He understood all her token expressions. They had been close once. He refused to accept the reason she needed to be independent. He still studied her as if he might further learn to emulate her abilities. With what she knew of him, his paranormal awakening was about to explode without direction from her. Aaron knew her well, knew when she perceived things in her extraordinary ways. Others in the room had no inkling about what made her tick. Now Aaron would not take his eyes off her for fear of missing something. The others noticed them staring at one another.

“Chione, you received something, didn't you?” Kendra asked again.

“Yes,” she said, feeling embarrassed at having to explain to the entire group. “I've seen myself at the excavation site.”

Randy let out a coarse burst of laughter that the others ignored.

“I don't know how you intuit all that information,” Clifford said.

All but Randy seemed sincerely interested. “Try to grasp this concept,” she said, ignoring him. “Everything that's ever happened, that's happening now or yet to occur, happens all at once.”

“I'll never get it,” Bebe said.

“On different planes of existence,” Chione said. “Practice mentally changing planes. It's like this. Imagine playing all the notes of the scale at the same time, then focusing on hearing the sound of only one note while hearing all the others simultaneously.”

Everyone quieted as if practicing the technique. At least they tried.

Aaron doodled, drawing grids on a note pad. He must have begun the habit to keep his hands busy when he felt nervous. He, too, was eager to get to the site.

“I get it,” Clifford said. “Then we try to hear other notes separately.”

“Each note is like a different plane of existence,” Chione said. “Happening along with all the others.”

“Like the quality of your jokes,” Bebe said, teasing Clifford.

Offering extraneous information was a bold stance on her part. She shared her inner self with a trusted few. But something new had been happening since she began dreaming of the tomb. The team being part of those dreams, she felt the need to make them aware of certain facts and knew, in time, she would have to divulge more. She wondered how much Aaron might perceive. When they had been close, at times they shared virtually the same dreams. Now she was growing, rapidly developing her skills. She introduced him to strange and enticing realms, then as he put it, deprived him. She could tell he both loved and abhorred her. Yet, if they dreamed the same dreams in the past, could he know that she was aware of the erotic dreams he recently began to experience? Dreams of her? And who was the other woman who recently began appearing in those dreams?

Silence filled the room as the others noticed Aaron and her avoiding one another. Finally, Bebe said, “Tell us more about the tomb.”

Chione looked to Dr. Withers who made a gesture of approval and said, “Far be it from me to discredit anything you've seen in that mind of yours.”

“Is it a rich find?” Kendra asked. “Beyond our wildest dreams?” Kendra would like nothing less than to have the discovery turn up lavish rewards and for her to be known as having been a major part of it all.

“Go ahead, Chione,” Dr. Withers said. “I'm sure none of us so much as dabbled in altered states before meeting you, but your gifts have done right by us. We're believers now, at least in you, and willing to listen. Tell them what you told me on the phone.”

“Something new?” Kendra asked, leaning forward.

Chione hesitated. Why was she being given this information if not to share with them in the discovery? She had difficulty believing the strange new scenes. What if she told them something that did not come true? She had no recourse but to continue, though carefully. She took a deep breath then quietly said, “This find affects each of us.” Excitement broke out again with everyone begging to hear more. For a group of professionals who had been trained to control their emotions regarding their work, they were certainly an expressive bunch. “I've received only fragments,” she said, elevating her voice above the others.

“We'll take 'em,” Clifford said eagerly.

She began again. “There is… much gold.”

“Yeah,” Randy yelled.

“Incredible artifacts and jewels.”

By this time, Randy was standing and leaning over the tabletop excitedly banging a fist. Dr. Withers suddenly redirecting his attention forced Randy back into his chair in a spell of regret.

Chione moved her eyes upward from side to side, something that came naturally to do as if reading messages in the highest corners of her mind. When she did this, information flowed in. “A strange pyramid,” she said. “Some danger averted, some not.” Then she looked at the group again and forced a weak smile and flinched.

“What is it?” Kendra asked.

“An eerie feeling, like we're being watched.”

“Watched? Here?” Bebe asked. “By whom?”

“Not here,” Chione said. “In my mind, I'm already at the site. There's a sense of foreboding like we're being watched.”

Randy sighed heavily. “Oh, sure. A curse, like at King Tut's tomb.”

“Will you shut up,” Clifford said sharply across the table. Then he turned to the others. “Excu-use me,” he said, affectedly teasing and knowing he had done something the others lacked the courage to do.

Dr. Withers pinched back a smile.

Sensing herself in Egypt, Chione gasped. She had just received more extrasensory input. As was her habit, she looked in the direction from which the thought or vision appeared in her mind.

“Is there more?” Bebe asked from the edge of her chair. “How will history be changed?”

Chione blinked slowly then gazed downward. She did not want anyone to try to guess anything from her expression. “Better to let it play out,” she said, averting full disclosure of more incredible clues that were, as yet, only fragments. She could not disclose all the bits and pieces of events she might receive. Doing so would force her to admit that even she did not understand how they fit together. The others would lose faith in her. “Each one of us plays a part,” she said, nonchalantly smiling at Aaron as Randy squirmed again from want of attention. To Dr. Withers, she added, “We won't need sensors, however, to locate the new pyramid.”

“Radar, sensors?” Randy asked, cutting in. “They're standard modus operandi for finding formations beneath the sand. We, of course, will need sensors.”

“Not even a simple magnetometer will find this pyramid,” Chione said.

“A pyramid,” Randy said. “How does she know?”

Everyone quieted, this time giving her the opportunity to speak. “My dreams have given us this find, Randy,” she said quietly. “This information comes from the same source.”

“You don't have the kind of knowledge needed to aid in the dig,” Randy said. “Sensors certainly are not your area of expertise.” He turned to the others. “It's ludicrous. How does Chione know we will or will not need a magnetometer or seismic devices?”

“First of all,” Chione said, answering despite Randy not addressing her directly. “A magnetometer has proved most effective in the dry limestone cliffs of the Valley of the Kings, primarily used for locating tomb entrances near the surface.”

“We aren't digging in Valley of the Kings,” Randy said, sounding like a know-it-all.

Aaron smiled, knew what she was about to say.

“Exactly. And we've already found our entrance,” she said. “We won't need to be measuring magnetism for gaps in rock formations.”

“If there's another pyramid buried some place,” Randy said. “You can bet we'll need sensors.”

“Radar and seismic devices,” Chione said, continuing undaunted, “are used for locating greater rock formations below the surface.”

“That's my point.”

“But you didn't get mine,” she said, watching the others reacting to Randy's insistence. “I said we'd find another pyramid. You assumed I meant one like the Great Pyramid at Giza and that it would be buried.”

“How do you know what I was thinking?”

“Need you ask?” Aaron almost laughed at Randy's refusal to recognize Chione's abilities. Her talents never surprised or intimidated him, but she wished he would soon find someone else to dote upon.

“The pyramid will not be found near the surface,” Chione said, innocently digging into Randy's flagging self-confidence. “This tomb, representing one unique breath of history, contains all kinds of inconsistencies.”

“We're looking for something different now?” Randy asked, whining. “Haven't you heard? We're already inside the burial complex.”

“Unless we remain open to unusual possibilities,” Chione said to the others, “we'll miss the most important hidden chambers.”

Everyone snapped to attention after becoming distracted by Randy's fear of being supplanted. Except Randy who sighed, disgusted, as he tipped back in his chair. “Sure, hidden,” he said and then snickered.

“You mean,” Dr. Withers said, pausing to raise fingers signaling quotes, “you've seen something else?”

“Unless we heed the messages of this tomb, we could be forced to abandon the dig.”

“No!” Aaron said. “This is too important.”

“Agreed,” Chione said. “But much beyond our present stage of entry, sensors won't help.”

“If you think we're going to have difficulty finding something unusual buried in the desert,” Randy said. “Leave that to the seismographers, the engineers, okay Chione? That's their job.”

No one paid further attention to Randy. Voices hummed again. Dr. Withers reached into his briefcase. “That's it for our meeting. Here are some tour brochures.” He flung packets across the tabletop and Bebe tore into hers. Dr. Withers began to rise, then paused. “Uh…there is one last thing I need to make clear here and now.” Everyone came to attention and his jovial expression turned dead serious. “Ladies—and that includes the ones not present,” he said. “Make no unnecessary eye contact with the locals. Do not become friendly with the local men.”

“But eye contact is a sign of integrity,” Bebe said.

“Not in this country,” Clifford said.

“Especially from women,” Dr. Withers said, enunciating every word. “Women stay subdued in this culture. You do the same. If you don't heed this warning, it could cost you your life.” He pointed into the air. “No woman from our group is to walk the streets of Cairo alone—night or day—or leave our camp at the dig site without at least one male escort. You hear?” He sighed, sounded tired, then said; “I'd appreciate if you who know Egypt would make yourselves available for those who don't.”

“Why can't we just have a private reading from Chione?” Randy asked.

Dr. Withers gathered his papers and closed his briefcase, snapping the clasps loudly. Then he looked directly at Randy over the top of his glasses. “I want to see you privately,” he said, thumbing backwards.

Everyone gathered their materials and began to leave. Aaron delayed, pouring over his notes. Chione's heart quickened. Recently, with the prospect of working in Egypt, people began teasing saying he resembled Pharaoh Tutankhamon, except that Aaron's teeth were straight and pearly white. Since beginning to dream of Egypt, every time their eyes met or when they touched, she perceived recurring dreams that he must have been having. The fantasy changed little, always him making love to a woman on a woven cot among soft tapestry pillows and red ornate paneling; or under the full moon at a cool oasis; or floating on a barge on the Nile. Why had she felt such rapport with the woman in those dreams? Recently she began seeing the woman as herself.

Sensuality suggested by the visions made her woozy. The dreams, him loving her, and she burning with equal fire, were always the same, but fantasy it was. Dreams acting as a pressure release valve. Who was the new woman who recently began appearing, usurping the place she thought of as her own? How was it so easy for her to also feel like she was the new woman as well?

The woman in the first few dreams dressed in the Egyptian style clothing Chione sewed for herself. She wore subtle modern-day makeup that made her look Egyptian. She wore the same golden ankh that dangled on a chain around her throat. In the latest dreams, she became the other woman wearing a golden scarab. Aaron, too, became someone else. They had made love with unbridled passion, each appearing as the foreign other, returning to themselves before the dream faded. The glorious Egyptian man in the dreams worshipped her slender body and lithe legs. The dreams were why she felt renewed interest in Aaron. If they were his erotic dreams, she needed to allow him privacy and block them out of her mind. Each time she caught him dreamily staring at her, were those dreams permeating his daytime fantasies as well? She was not sure she wanted to renew the relationship with Aaron. The dreams were his, and she was simply psychically tapping into them.

She and Aaron once loved one another, nearly committed all. He departed, thwarted by her decision to remain single so that he might find someone else and have a family. Yet, she could tell by his actions that he would try again to win her. It would be subtle. He was not one to appear as a love-struck puppy. He would wait and keep his erotic secrets. If her dreams came true, why wouldn't his as well? The thought made her both want him and wish to repel his interest.

After the others left the room, and Chione began to leave, Aaron hastily gathered up his things and caught up with her. “Your eyes are black as onyx gleaming,” he said. His voice contained a hint of an accent most peculiar. His gaze was piercing.

The golden ankh at her throat caught the glint of the sun through the window and beamed brilliantly across his face. He seemed caught in a spell. “Aaron,” she said.

“Uh… yeah?” he asked, blinking. He seemed to have difficulty coming back into the moment.

“When the going gets rough, don't let them give up, okay?”

“Okay….”

“Promise?” She had to make sure he understood.

“You've seen more than you let on,” he said. “What else do you know?”

“I couldn't mention it to the others. You understand? It seemed as if there was too much happening. I couldn't see it all, as if there was a haze right in front of my face.” She passed her hand back and forth in front of her eyes.

“Like a premonition that didn't quite come in?”

“More like a haze, that I couldn't see through. Don't know how else to describe it. A feeling of near defeat.”

“That doesn't sound promising.”

“It's one of those pieces of the puzzle that will eventually fit,” she said. “But it would frighten the others to know. Promise, Aaron? Don't let them give up.”

He reached to touch her shoulder then caught himself. After a moment of them staring into each other's eyes, he said, “I promise, Chione. I'm good at that. There'll be no giving up.”

4

A young boy strolled along the road at the periphery of the camp. He rang a bell that called the Islamic faithful to morning prayers in an area set up for the purpose lower down the hill. “Good morning,” he said, yelling up to her and waving.

Chione waved in return, curiously surprised that a young Egyptian child's mannerisms could seem so western. Something about him was gregarious and cute. He disappeared beyond the large airtight mud-brick shack that had been erected for the electronic equipment. She saw him again as he entered a portable toilet. It was also curious that he took such liberties using their facility.

Dr. Withers referred to the mud brick structure as the tech shack. He had paid a fortune to have a single phone line stretched from the small Theban village down on the flats to the south. The ancient village had sprung back to life due to the hundreds of Egyptian workers and families helping to restore various dig sites. Some of the line simply lay stretched across the rocky dunes. It was hoped no mangy jackals, starving dogs, or other animals might chew the line and knock out phone and fax capability at the CIA site. However, the FAX line transmitted only intermittently, if you had patience to keep trying. The single telephone might be used for emergencies since the connection was nearly nonexistent. The tech shack would also house the developing of film on site and save valuable monies and time wasted on outside film developing when still shots were immediately needed. Ginny McLain's cameras would electronically capture most of what they needed to document during their entire stay, no matter how long it took. The tech shack housed its own generator solely for the purposes of keeping her equipment charged and keeping the FAX machine running. Cellular phones were stored there as well, the team having learned that connections in the desert, and inside a tomb, to be non-existent.

A gigantic colorful Egyptian tent had been rounded up to house the artifacts brought out of the tomb and readied for shipment to Cairo. The inventory tent was erected nearest the tomb entrance and in front of the tech shack to shelter it from dust from the road. The dust and grit threatened to be uncontrollable. The cook tent and dining area, also used as their meeting room, sat in sight of the tomb entrance. The portable toilets and shower tents sat between the business area and the personal yurts where the team slept. They were also positioned according to which way the wind blew.