Shadow of the Sheikh Read online

  “This is insane,” Josslyn said. “Our mother is not alive. It’s impossible.”

  Gemma agreed. It was impossible.

  And yet…

  “They never found her body,” Gemma pointed out. “What if she didn’t die? What if she was kidnapped, or has had amnesia all this time, or…”

  “Or nothing.” Josslyn took an angry pace away. “Dad searched for almost twenty years and didn’t find a trace of her. You know I wish it were true, Gem, but it’s not. This is just Gillian being Gillian, still trying to fix things so everything will go back to being perfect, like it was before Mom died. But some things can never be fixed.”

  “You’re probably right,” Gemma conceded. “Especially now, if what she says about this new man of hers is true. The stars and the moon? A wedding? Jeez, she must really be serious about this guy.”

  Josslyn made a noise of disbelief. “After only a week? Sounds to me like the guy is angling for an American passport.” Joss was ever the skeptic of the family.

  “Didn’t she tell us on the phone that he was an expatriate British lord?”

  Josslyn snorted again. “And if you believe that load of bull, I’ve got a couple of pyramids I could sell you, too.” She handed Gemma back the note and shouldered the shotgun, glancing back at the gebel. “In any case, why don’t we pack it in for the day. I could definitely use a drink after all this bizarreness.”

  “Yeah. Me, too,” Gemma heartily agreed.

  They gathered their things and climbed into the Land Rover, making their way back to the small villa they’d rented for the season, each lost in thought.

  Later, after dinner, sitting on the verandah sipping a cocktail together, they watched dusk settle over the valley. The view was spectacular. It never failed to fill Gemma with peace and a feeling of home. In the near distance, the Nile River was a broad, winding ribbon of silver green, reflecting the oranges and pinks of the setting sun. A flock of birds, hundreds of them, dipped and soared across the sky, all turning as one, their white feathers flashing in the fading rays of the day’s light, their calls echoing off the water. The smell of the river and the surrounding cultivation fields was earthy and fecund under the spicy scent of an exotic vine that blossomed profusely along an overhead trellis, and rustled gently in the evening breeze.

  She caught one of the flowers in her fingers and brought it to her nose, taking a deep breath.

  It reminded her of…

  Of him. The mysterious man on the camel. The scent of him.

  She closed her eyes, shivering at the memory of his face, his penetrating gaze. The terror and the attraction she’d felt for him.

  Then she thought about Gillian’s note and all the shocking news it had contained in its few short lines.

  How had such a man gotten hold of it? Of all people, why had Gillian chosen him to deliver the note? Was he a friend of her sister’s new boyfriend? If so, what kind of dangerous people was she hanging out with?

  “Are you worried about Gillian?” Gemma asked her sister abruptly.

  Joss thought about it for a moment. “No, not really. Are you?”

  “No,” she admitted. Puzzled.

  A moment later she asked, “Don’t you think that’s strange?”

  Josslyn turned her head to peer at her. “How so?”

  “Both our parents vanished here in Egypt, and now Gillian has, too.”

  “But she didn’t vanish. She phoned us,” Joss pointed out reasonably. “And now she sent the note. It’s been only a week. She’s probably spent the whole time in bed with this new guy, and would not appreciate our charging to her rescue.”

  “We couldn’t anyway,” Gemma returned. “We have no idea what her boyfriend’s name is or where he lives. I think that should be worrying us, don’t you?”

  “What are you trying to say? You think she’s in danger?”

  “I’m not sure,” Gemma said. “It just feels…well, like we should be more worried.”

  “So let me get this straight. You’re worried about not being worried?”

  Gemma pushed out a breath. “I guess that sounds nuts.”

  “You could say that,” Joss said with a wry smile.

  “Okay, I was just checking.”

  But the more Gemma sat there and thought about it, the more it started to feel…wrong. She couldn’t explain it. She wasn’t worried about Gillian. And yet, something at the edge of her mind told her she should be worried.

  One thing Isobelle Haliday, their true child-of-the-sixties mother, had taught them—at least Gemma—was never to ignore any signs the universe was trying to send you.

  “We should try to find Gillian,” Gemma said.

  “Just to make sure.”

  Josslyn’s drink halted halfway to her lips. “And how do you propose we do that?”

  “The nomads,” Gemma said. “That group of riders who delivered the message.”

  “Not the British lord? He might be easier.”

  She shook her head. “If she is in trouble, if this guy is bad news, we don’t want to alert him by asking people where he lives. I can ask about the nomads because of my work. Those men today, they have to know where she is, too.”

  “Uh. Yeah. But we have no idea where they are either.”

  “I can find them,” she said. “I have informants in every village on the west bank within a thirty-mile radius. Someone’s bound to know who they are.”

  Joss just stared at her.

  “You think I’m losing it.”

  “The thought did occur to me.”

  “Humor me, then.”

  “Gem, even if you find these men and manage to survive a second encounter with them—which I have grave doubts about, by the way—who’s to say they’d tell you anything?”

  “Why wouldn’t they?”

  “Earth to Gemma! Did you see those guys? They didn’t strike me as the talkative type.”

  She sighed. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

  She left it at that and dropped the subject.

  But at the end of the evening’s contemplation, she decided she was going to try anyway. She just couldn’t ignore the niggling voice in her head telling her to pursue this.

  Or the excitement in other parts of her body at the thought of seeing the sexy, mysterious stranger one more time.

  She smiled. Two birds with one stone. Perfect.

  Chapter 2

  Sheikh Shahin Aswadi strode along the main corridor of Khepesh Palace, dwelling place of the followers of Set-Sutekh, God of the Hot Winds and Chaos, Lord of the Night Sky and God of Darkness. He was heading for the private audience chamber of its high priest, his lord and leader, the vampire demigod Seth-Aziz. As always, the luxury and opulence of Khepesh Palace dazzled Shahin’s eyes.

  Ever-burning torch sconces illuminated gleaming marble floors, soaring silver-clad columns, and elaborate carved reliefs. Gorgeous painted murals depicting scenes of the ancient gods graced every stone wall. Normally the sight was awe-inspiring. But today the glitter of silver and precious jewels just made him wish for a pair of sunglasses.

  Still, compared to the blistering heat and blinding summer sun of the scorching desert above, the cool, torch-lit halls of the underground palace were soothing to Shahin’s aching head.

  It was all the fault of that damn woman. The mortal from yesterday. He could not seem to banish her from his mind.

  Which was absurd. She had been a minor incident, a bit-part in the epic play that was unfolding all around him at the moment. A means to an end, nothing more. Sekhmet’s teeth, she hadn’t even been the object of the exercise in delivering that blasted note. That had been her sister, the blonde. This woman’s hair was long and auburn, curling over her shoulders in a thick cascade of autumn fire. Clearly not the one planned for capture.

  And yet, here she was, stuck in Shahin’s mind, her beautiful hair shimmering like a dying fire, her blue eyes burning with reluctant attraction for him, driving out all thoughts other than how he might posse
ss her.

  A dangerous state for a man in his position.

  Shahin reached the portal of the high priest’s audience chamber, took a deep breath to quell his inappropriate thoughts, knocked and strode in.

  “There you are! Come in!” Seth said, turning from where he was pacing the room waiting for him.

  Shahin sketched a courtly bow to the high priest. “My lord.” He nodded as well to Seth’s sister, the priestess Nephtys, who smiled at him from the sideboard where she was pouring three goblets of wine. “My lady.”

  “What news do you bring?” Seth asked. “Any word of our enemy?”

  “Things are quiet above, for now, but there is some small movement along the border. I fear Haru-Re may be slowly gathering his forces, as he’d threatened.”

  Seth’s face betrayed neither anger nor surprise. “So you think it’s to be war.”

  The animosity between the only two remaining ancient cults, or per netjer as they were called, led by the only two remaining vampire demigods, Seth-Aziz and his perpetual enemy Haru-Re, had been going strong for five millennia. It was an ongoing battle, an extension of the original war for supremacy begun at the dawn of Egyptian civilization between Set-Sutekh and Re-Horakhti, the two rival gods whom the high priests served. The ancient gods were gone now, but ever in hope of their return, the fight was carried on by their immortal followers, the shemsu. Although immortal was a bit of a misnomer. Under certain circumstances it was possible for all human immortals, even the demigods, to succumb to death permanently.

  But for Shahin, the battle he fought was not one of religion. His interest was far more personal. There was just one thing he hoped to gain from this war with the vampire Haru-Re.

  Revenge.

  “I think the Englishman must have betrayed us,” Shahin told his leader. “Why else would Haru-Re’s warriors be gathering at our weakest frontier?”

  “Lord Kilpatrick will not betray us,” Seth-Aziz said evenly.

  Nephtys handed each of the men a goblet of wine. Shahin exchanged a worried look with her as he took his. “I truly hope your faith in him is rewarded,” he said. “But we must proceed on the assumption that it is not.”

  “Yes,” Seth said, his jaw tightening slightly. “I suppose you’re right.”

  “And what of your other errand?” Nephtys asked Shahin. “Did you see this Josslyn Haliday, Lady Gillian’s sister?”

  Shahin raised a brow at her use of the woman’s title. Gillian Haliday and her lover, Rhys Kilpatrick, were traitors, deserters who’d betrayed the per netjer. A gifted seer, Nephtys had prophesied a union between Seth-Aziz and Gillian. But the woman had refused and chosen Rhys, Seth’s master steward, and fled to the enemy rather than marry the demigod. Which was another reason Shahin must rid himself of his unwelcome obsession with the redhead. He had no desire to involve himself in any way with the sister of a traitor, unless it be to teach her a lesson in obedience.

  He couldn’t fathom why Seth was actually contemplating bringing Josslyn Haliday into Khepesh. Shahin understood revenge better than most, but this was an invitation to disaster, if you asked him.

  “Yes, I saw Josslyn Haliday,” he told the priestess. “She looks…remarkably like her sister Gillian.” Not a high recommendation in his book, but Seth would be pleased.

  Nephtys’s wine goblet paused in midair. “Indeed?”

  Seth asked, “How did she strike you otherwise? Suitable as my consort, do you think?”

  “Depends on your definition. She tried to kill me,” Shahin replied drily. “With a shotgun.”

  Seth’s lips curved and his eyes lit in interest. “So, a bit more spirited than the Lady Gillian. That is good.”

  Shahin barely resisted a snort. “You want my advice? Watch your back. Your immortality does not protect against a sharp blade to the neck or the right kind of poison. The woman is trouble. Mark my words.”

  Seth drank down his wine and set the goblet on the table with a clack. “I appreciate your concern. But I plan to rule this sister with an iron hand from the start. My erotic powers should keep the woman content and submissive in her role as my consort.”

  Shahin had his doubts. He’d seen the look on the blonde’s face as she wielded that shotgun. He didn’t think submissive was in her vocabulary. And as for Seth’s powers, she had to consent before he could use them on her. Good luck with that.

  “In any case, you delivered the note?” Nephtys asked, looking oddly distracted.

  “I did,” Shahin confirmed and told them of the brief encounter. Minus his attraction to the redhead, of course.

  “Good,” Seth said. “That should keep them from making a fuss about Gillian’s disappearance long enough for you to fetch Josslyn here to Khepesh. When do you plan to take her captive?”

  Shahin knew Seth-Aziz had need of a blood sacrifice fairly quickly. He’d been cheated of his annual Ritual of Transformation the night Gillian and Kilpatrick fled to the enemy. That was a week ago. The vampire needed to feed soon, or he would begin to weaken.

  “I have a rendezvous on the borderlands with a couple of my spies tomorrow,” Shahin said. “Will two days hence be soon enough? I can push the meeting to the next day if you need me to.”

  “Two days will be fine. I’m not fading quite yet,” Seth assured him.

  “The sooner the better, my brother,” Nephtys said, and kissed him on the cheek with a concerned frown. “You’ll need all your strength for the coming battle with our enemy if Shahin is right about Haru-Re’s movements.”

  Seth smiled affectionately at her, then jetted out a breath. “We must also deal with the third sister.”

  “Gemma?” Shahin asked, his focus sharpening. “You plan to take her as well?”

  Seth’s mouth thinned. “I have no choice. Even though she is bespelled not to be concerned, leaving one sister free would eventually attract attention to the fact the others are gone. People would start asking questions, even if she doesn’t. We cannot bespell the entire world.”

  A low hum started deep in Shahin’s belly, recalling the lushness of the redhead’s body and the hot glint of desire in her eyes as she’d looked at him.

  “Let me have the other one,” he said. The request was out of his mouth before he realized he’d spoken aloud. He regrouped. “I’ll take care of her, so she causes no trouble for you or for Khepesh.”

  Seth regarded him with a mild look. “You wish to have her?”

  No, Shahin did not wish to have the woman.

  He wished to have the woman’s body. A not-so-subtle difference. But no sense mincing words.

  “Yes,” he answered.

  “Why?”

  Shahin hesitated slightly. Lord Kilpatrick had been Seth’s best friend before his defection, and it had been the Englishman’s most fervent cause to stop the age-old tradition of taking sexual slaves. Seth had listened to him, and long since put a stop to the practice at Khepesh.

  But Lord Kilpatrick was gone now, his opinions as worthless as smoke in the wind.

  “I wish to use her,” Shahin said forthrightly.

  Nephtys’s lips turned down and she darted a glance at her brother, whose brow rose slightly. Nephtys agreed with Kilpatrick. She had once been a slave herself, forced to endure the bidding of their ruthless enemy, Haru-Re.

  Hell, Shahin also agreed. His own sister had suffered a terrible fate at the hands of that same enemy. It was one of the reasons Shahin was so bent on revenge.

  The difference was, Shahin was man of honor, not a brute who would abuse a woman. He had never owned slaves, or even shabti—human servants—nor had he ever in his life forced a woman against her will, and he never would. But if he read Gemma Haliday correctly, permission would not be an issue. She plainly wanted him. Persuading her to come to him shouldn’t be a problem.

  “I could keep her at my camp,” Shahin suggested, “until Josslyn accepts her position as your consort.”

  Seth paced consideringly. “Hmm, it would tie up that loose end quite nicely
.”

  “You may rely on it, my lord,” Shahin promised.

  “Very well,” Seth said, coming to his decision and turning. “You may have the sister to amuse yourself. But take care you treat her well. I am trusting in your honor.”

  “She shall have no complaint,” Shahin assured him. “I only hope I can say the same for myself, when all is said and done.”

  Chapter 3

  The priestess Nephtys had made a huge mistake. And she wasn’t quite sure what to do about it.

  Slowly she walked through the silver gate of Khepesh Temple into the first courtyard. A large, rectangular room with silver papyrus-shaped columns rimming the walls, this was the Festival Chamber where the high priest led the immortals of the palace in feasting and celebrating their god.

  She glanced around, remembering the day so long ago when she had been initiated into the per netjer of the followers of Set-Sutekh, becoming an immortal. How happy she had been on that day! Finally, there had been somewhere she truly belonged. She still felt that way, all these years later. Her adopted brother Seth-Aziz was the high priest, and Khepesh was her home. She would gladly die for it…and for Seth.

  She’d been a young woman back then, her heart still aching from the betrayal of the man she loved—a man who had traded her away without a second thought to her love, because at the time she’d been a lowly slave, unworthy of a high priest’s serious attentions. A quick sip of her blood, a thorough fucking, then instantly forgotten. She’d been a sensual curiosity, no more, mainly due to her pale skin and exotic cloud of wavy red hair.

  But no longer.

  Joining the per netjer of Set-Sutekh, Haru-Re’s arch-rival, had been her first step toward a revenge she’d been desperate to wreak. And now, after so many, many years, that revenge was finally in sight.