Vampire Sheikh (16 page)

Besides, Seth needed Rhys here to protect Josslyn—which his former master steward would do with his life. Of that Seth had no doubt. Rhys had been his best friend for more than a century and knew him better than anyone, save Nephtys. Rhys would not have missed seeing Seth's true feelings for the oldest Haliday sister, despite the necessity he'd felt to reject and distance himself from her. Seth's growing feelings of love and respect for Josslyn had even shone through the miasma
of his spell-induced depression. Rhys would know he must do anything required to protect her.

But thinking of Josslyn, Seth could not help himself. Before he left, he desperately needed to see her one last time. Just in case he wasn't granted the opportunity again. And he had to know that she and the others were safe. They would not be affected by his element of chaos, but that didn't mean they weren't in danger from Haru-Re or his warrior guards.

On gossamer wings he flew straight through the palace to Rhys and Gillian's quarters, where he assumed they'd taken her.

She wasn't there.

No one was. The rooms were empty.

His heartbeat sped. Where had she gone? Had Ray taken her as a hostage against the coming battle?

Shahin's voice cut through his worry.
My lord, where are you? The army awaits your arrival. We mustn't delay much longer to keep our advantage.

Seth groaned inwardly.
I'm on my way. Five minutes.

He had to find her!

He shot through the grand corridors, where a tumult of disorder still reigned, and on to the palace temple where Nephtys's quarters would be located. He did a hurried search and again found no one in their rooms. The priestesses and acolytes of Re-Horakhti were all in the inner courtyard running around like wild-women, feeling the bite of his chaos and the disturbing energy of his armies gathering outside the walls.

At last he found Nephtys.

She was kneeling quietly before a large scrying bowl,
peering into the water with a look of utter concentration. He circled her head twice to get her attention. She finally looked up. He stopped to hover like a tiny helicopter in front of her face. He didn't have time to shift back and forth to speak to her. He just wanted her to understand what was happening.

After the briefest moment of puzzlement at the sudden appearance of a dragonfly in her room, her brow cleared and she smiled.

“Seth!” She raised her hand and he alighted for three heartbeats on her upturned palm. “Oh, thank the goddess! I knew you'd come back to yourself,” she said in a hushed, joyful voice. “Go now. Escape this place before Ray discovers you've gone! Somehow I'll get Josslyn to you at Khepesh. I promise.”

He let out a silent curse. Nephtys seemed utterly clueless to the danger that surrounded her!

How had his sister not felt the electric tension in the air and the impending clash of armies? How did she not sense the life-and-death battle that loomed on the horizon, which must surely spell the final end to either Ray or himself?

He swiftly cast a spell to allow his voice to be heard by her. “Nephtys! We are on the brink of war! You must protect yourself!”

Her face refused to cloud. She lifted her hand and spoke softly to him, her eyes dancing with a happiness that was surely destined to turn to profound grief in just a few short hours. “It's okay. Ray told me he loves me! I am to be his true wife, the high priestess of Petru. Oh,
hadu,
I'm so happy! And I swear I'll get your Josslyn
to you soon, so you can feel the same joy in your heart as I.”

Stunned, all Seth's heart could feel at that news was profound distress.

“You don't understand! I am on my way to join with the warriors of Khepesh, to—” He halted. He could not say it aloud. To tell her that he would do everything in his power to kill Haru-Re in the coming fight.

Though, it wasn't at all certain that he would succeed….

If Seth were to die, what would happen to Josslyn? If he and Shahin and Rhys were all killed, and she was left with no one to defend her against the harsh despotism of Haru-Re, would Nephtys still honor her promise to protect her?

And what if Seth did succeed in killing Haru-Re? Nephtys had carried her bitter need for revenge against her perceived betrayer for five thousand years before this sudden reversal. If, come morning, the man she had never stopped loving was dead, would she feel a need to retaliate against the brother who'd killed him, taking it out on the woman Seth had so unwillingly come to love?

My lord.
Shahin's voice reached out to him urgently.
We are about to ride.

Damnation!

“Find Josslyn,” Seth ordered Nephtys. “Get out of Petru and hide yourselves somewhere safe until the outcome of this battle is decided. Please, my sister. I would not have either of you come to harm.”

“No!” Nephtys said in alarm. “You mustn't fight!
There is no need for this war now! Ray has changed. He'll listen to me, I swear!”

Seth let out a string of oaths. How could she be so damn naïve? Haru-Re was a man obsessed, and nothing less than total domination over Khepesh would satisfy him.

Seth-Aziz! My lord! The enemy is gathering to charge. You must come now or be left behind!

He didn't have time for arguing with Nephtys!

And he still hadn't found Josslyn, curse the blood of Sekhmet! There was nothing for it. He must trust Rhys to take care of her.

“Nephtys, I beg you, find Josslyn and flee this place,” he urged. “Before it's too late.” Then he regretfully took wing and flew out through the open window.

“
Hadu,
come back! Don't do this!” Nephtys's voice shouted after him. “He loves me!
He loves me!
”

With his sister's desperate admonishments ringing in his ears, Seth shot past the garden, soaring over the outer wall of Petru and out into the vast burning desert where his faithful followers awaited him.

I'm here,
Seth told Shahin as he approached the host.

Silently he recited the incantation to turn his dragonfly body back to human. Without slowing, he conjured a massive warhorse the color of midnight to carry him into the ranks of his men. Robing himself in the magical black tunic and breeches and flowing scarlet
bisht
of the high priest of Khepesh, he wanted to look every inch the powerful demigod of Set-Sutekh, God of Darkness and Lord of Chaos, Ruler of the Hot Winds
and Guardian of the Night Sky as he galloped into the heart of his army.

At long last, he would fight the final battle for supremacy between darkness and light in the land of Egypt.

And Seth-Aziz intended to win.

T
he sun was just setting as the Khepesh warriors of Set-Sutekh drew their rearing mounts into long ranks along the western horizon on the dunes above the palace of Petru.

Fingers of the blackest blackness stretched greedily over their silver-helmeted heads, painting over the ever-darkening indigo sky as though reaching out to snuff the remnants of light that still glowed over the palace of their enemy. It was like the hand of the god squeezing the life from his rival, sending the earth below to float unconscious into the calm tranquility of perpetual night.

Were they to prevail in the coming battle, Seth-Aziz wondered if that would really have happened—perpetual darkness—had the ancient gods still made Earth their abode. Somehow, he doubted even winning this endless war in the name of Set-Sutekh would turn the light to
dark. Not now, living as they all were in the age of technology, logic and one God.

Was that blasphemy?

As Set-Sutekh's high priest, charged with keeping the rituals of the
per netjer
alive and well in Egypt down through the ages, Seth had never before doubted the god he had served so faithfully for so long. Indeed, he did not doubt him now.

Darkness and chaos were the great rulers of the universe. How could anyone dispute that? In the absence of all else, of any kind of control or imposition of an outside force or order, darkness and chaos prevailed. Always.

Seth loved the darkness, reveled in its mystery, wrapped himself in its anonymity, was comforted by its constancy.

Chaos, however, was a more difficult taskmaster. Seth had a deep, instinctive need to control the chaos of life on earth. To outward appearances, Khepesh might give the illusion of anarchy, its
shemsu
free to do anything they wanted, pursue any lifestyle they wished, so long as they served the god in the way they had promised when joining the
per netjer.
But in fact, Seth-Aziz ruled the palace with an iron hand. He did not tolerate any behavior that fell outside their long-established—albeit very liberal—set of rules.

No. Not blasphemy. Not at all.

Egypt had always been a land of contradictions. Of duality. Of opposites. She embraced them. As did Seth-Aziz.

As a native of this land, those things had never bothered him. Nor the
shemsu
he ruled. Those immortals who'd
not been born here had chosen this place and this life, often because of those very qualities. Many worshipped other gods, or believed in the One. It mattered not, for darkness and chaos were part of them all. All but the force of pure light they had come to battle.

But Seth wondered now, for the very first time, what would happen to this world when this war was over and a single side—one dark, one light—had claimed victory over the other. Would one aspect come to dominate the world, plunging it into a time of monochromatic political ideals and imposed philosophical conformity? Was that really a good thing?

It was a dilemma to ponder.

He was roused from his thoughts by the approach of a pair of riders. In the falling light of dusk, he couldn't see their features.

Unlike Petru's camel-mounted army, Seth and Shahin's warriors had chosen to go into battle on horseback. Their conjured warhorses were huge and powerful, black as obsidian with glowing red eyes, muscles rippling under their glistening coats, tails flicking, nostrils snorting and hooves prancing in anticipation of the coming action. Magical glyphs and symbols of their god adorned their hides, drawn in shining silver paint that reflected the beams of the moon, making them glow like ancient ghostly apparitions, which he supposed they were.

When the riders approached, he saw the front man was Shahin. The captain galloped up to Seth, lifting his gloved hand in greeting.

Seth returned the salute, and they grasped each other's arms in a warrior's clasp of brotherhood and good luck. Seth saw that the other rider still shadowed Shahin, the
smaller horse prancing at Shahin's side in excitement. To his shock, he realized the second rider was Gemma Haliday, dressed as the rest of the
shemsu,
both male and female, in black tunics and loose Bedouin trousers. She gripped a lethal sword in her fist, her expression conveying that she meant business.

Still stunned, Seth looked from her to Shahin. “Is this wise?” he asked, loathe to question the presence of anyone who wished to fight for Khepesh. But if she were to fall in battle, Josslyn would never forgive him, regardless of the outcome.

“I stand by my man, and my lord Seth-Aziz,” she said, her back straight and her eyes shiny.

“But you are mortal,” he reminded her. “You could so easily die.”

Her lower lip trembled. “The fate of Shahin and Khepesh is my own. I've no wish to live without him.”

Seth's heart swelled, and for the first time in a long, long time he felt a true stab of envy, for his captain and the devotion he had found in this woman's love. How he longed for a love as true and pure!

You are a very lucky man, my friend.

Though Shahin gave no outward sign, Seth felt his friend's soul overflow with love.
Don't think I am unaware of that, my lord.

To Gemma, Seth said aloud, “Your loyalty does you proud, Gemma Haliday. I fervently hope I can return the favor one day.”

Just then, against the setting sun, another two riders galloped up, their stallions snorting and lathered from
a run. Seth recognized them at once. It was Lord Rhys. And with him—

“Gillian!” Gemma cried out, joy mingled with dismay.

“Gem,” Gillian returned with a brave but tremulous smile. “Thought I'd find you here.”

The two sisters hugged fiercely, tears brimming onto their lashes.

“Oh, Jelly Bean, it's too dangerous!” her sister said, dread and concern running rampant in the words. “You shouldn't have come!”

Gillian swallowed. “And let you have this adventure all by yourself? Not a chance.” Only the slight quavering of the young woman's voice betrayed her fear.

Seth's heart was humbled by the faith he was witnessing. Not just in each other and their chosen men, but in him and Khepesh, too. Neither woman had had to show up here to do battle on this day. He would not have blamed them for a single second for staying away.

He turned to Rhys and gave his best friend a smile that made his soul ache. Past the growing lump in his throat, he said, “My loyal Englishman, come to watch my back as always.”

Rhys returned his smile, his eyes touched by a century of steadfast friendship. “I am your humble servant, my lord.”

Seth answered as he had a thousand times before. “You are neither servant nor particularly humble, Lord Rhys, yet it pleases me to hear you say so.” He clasped his master steward's arm as he had his captain's and added, “It pleases me even more to have you by my side on this final day of reckoning.”

“Try and keep me away,” the Englishman returned somberly. And as if reading Seth's unspoken fears, he said, “Lady Josslyn is safe, my lord. The Lady Nephtys came to fetch her and said she'd seen you. That you had instructed her to keep Josslyn safe from harm.”

Seth nodded with a measure of relief. Still, an unbidden trickle of foreboding seeped through his bones. He trusted his sister. He did. She had never let him down. Not once in over five-thousand years. But…if Haru-Re forced her to make a choice, with whom would Nephtys throw in her lot? Her adopted brother or the only man she had ever truly loved? Seth feared he knew the answer.

Would Josslyn be caught in the crossfire?

Pain razored through his chest.

And at last he understood the truth.

Seeing Gemma and Gillian's devotion to his two friends, and their loyalty to a world in which they had only recently landed and embraced as their new home, Seth knew what was desperately missing from his life.

He loved Josslyn. He didn't ever want to lose her.

He'd been a fool to reject her and send her away. She would have been as true a companion and soul mate as her sisters had proven to be to Shahin and Rhys. Given half a chance, Josslyn Haliday would have been here, right by his side, sword in hand. He knew that as surely as he now knew he didn't want to live on this earth without her, either.

He prayed to the gods that he would survive this day and have the chance to tell her so and beg her forgiveness.

He thought uneasily of her, left on her own in the palace of his enemy with no protector but a priestess with mixed loyalties and unable to do magic on her own. He sent a powerful guardian spell hurtling toward her and hoped it would penetrate the warded walls of Petru.

Then he lifted his hand and swirled a double spell of protection around her two brave sisters, weaving them together with the invisible shields he felt Shahin and Rhys had already cast around them. The magic would not save the women from killing sword blows in the coming fight, but the combined protection was strong and would cause stray slices to glance harmlessly off them. He prayed it would be enough to keep them both alive.

The oranges and reds of the dying sun threw ribbons of vivid color against the darkening backdrop of the night sky. There were no stars out yet, just a kaleidoscope of the ever-changing palette of sunset over the desert.

It was a beautiful thing to behold.

If one must die, it should be on a night like this.

And Seth was ready to die if he must. Haru-Re's tyranny aside, he could not live in a world of perpetual light even if only in metaphor. He would go mad if there were no shadows to step into when he needed a place to disappear. No endless void of black space with which to fill the universe of his imagination. No mysterious night in which to feed the banquet of his senses.

“It is time, my lord,” Shahin said, gesturing to the walls of Petru, where scores of golden warriors swarmed like huge glowing fireflies in the light of sunset, lining up, brandishing weapons, preparing for their attack. It
would take at least fifteen minutes of hard riding from their gathering point to reach the palace walls. Shahin had waited until the last gasp of the waning sun, for the symbolic effect, and for the practical advantage of the glare in their enemies' eyes. “By the time we get there it will be full darkness.”

Darkness was their world. They would take every advantage they could get.

Seth nodded. Together, the five of them—Seth-Aziz, Sheikh Shahin, Lord Rhys Kilpatrick, and Gemma and Gillian Haliday—cantered their mounts to the front of the ranks of Khepesh warriors.

Seth's majestic stallion reared up and pawed the air, claiming his place as the alpha in the order of the magical beasts, somehow knowing it was the natural place of his master.

There was a hum of tension in the air, thick and electric. The drugging, spicy smell of preternatural energy wafted on the breeze that teased above the army as from a field of opium poppies in full blossom. Magical power ebbed and flowed from the
shemsu
in rivers of energy, raising the hairs on even Seth's arms and buzzing through his brain like a horde of locusts. He'd never felt the like in all his days.

The warrior guardians of Khepesh were as committed as he.

Tonight it was all or nothing.

Live, and rule the whole world.

Or lose, and perish from the earth forever.

At his nod, Sheikh Shahin gave a signal, and as one the
shemsu
raised their scimitars. They all looked to Seth-Aziz.

Pride swelled his chest to bursting.

“All praise to Set-Sutekh!” he shouted, raising his own weapon above his head. “We fight!”

“For the glory of good!” the men shouted back as one.

With a heart filled with love for his people, but scant hope for a future, Seth-Aziz gave his final order.
“To the death!”

The men let out a roar of approval. The horses reared, eyes wild.

The last sliver of the sun went down behind them.

And the immortal followers of Set-Sutekh charged toward the stronghold of the enemy, prepared to meet their destiny.