As Long As (11 page)

Anything.

Thieves broke through at seven thirty-seven in the evening.

Exactly.

Sokar didn’t need a timepiece to tell time. He’d been accurate enough before their invention. Hearing the tick of a mechanical device as each moment passed wouldn’t matter. He was without his mate. He knew every hour that went by. Endured every minute. Suffered each and every accursed second. He had no other choice. He was powerless to stop them.

Nearly eight days had passed since he’d somehow gotten them back through the maze of walls and empty chambers. Soared through and exited his tomb. Traversed the six kilometers of hallway. Found the shaft leading to the cave entrance. Somehow reached the hangar. Awakened the pilot, Stanislaw, from a heavy sleep. Given the order to take Geena wherever she wished to go.

And actually allowed it.

Allow?

He could understand why she disliked that word. He decided he hated it. He had all kinds of time to decide any number of things during these seven days, twenty-one hours. Things...such as the passage of time. It was definitely not on his side. Not anymore.

The plug he’d used on the wall opening was giving the thieves trouble. Sounds of cursing and grunting accompanied their work. They were using a sledge hammer. A shovel.
No.
Two shovels. Scraping noises alerted him to their use of pick, too. From the sounds of it, he had several men breaking through this time. Maybe he’d be lucky and it would be a large gang. If they had numbers, they’d be braver. Especially when they opened the seal on this shrine and saw not a mummy...

But him.

The golden sarcophagus was deep. The sides shadowed him. He’d padded the bottom with fabric, but it didn’t lift him far. He was resting well beneath the rim. He’d be difficult to see at first. He was dressed as he had been that night. He’d added golden sandals, a Pharaonic headdress, and a breast collar featuring
Nekhbet,
the vulture goddess. It was fashioned of gold and studded with polished stones. He hadn’t put the lids to his sarcophagus on. The golden one was propped beside the stone one at his side. The wooden lid was on its end behind his head. That was fortuitous, now that he thought of it. Humans would take several hours to break through, otherwise. Maybe even days.

If he’d left the lids on, he’d have to endure even more time. But leaving his resting place uncovered hadn’t been foresight. It was lack of energy. A dearth of strength. He hadn’t cared. He couldn’t seem to drum up the will to do anything. He didn’t feed. He didn’t move. He didn’t do anything except try to forget and wonder why it wasn’t possible to perish of such pain.

Sokar inhaled a slight bit of air. Held it. Heard the heavy thump of another heartbeat deep in his chest. Exhaled slowly. And choked back a sob. It would never do for the gang of thieves to hear him. They might believe the curse. And run away.

Seconds passed. Became a minute. More seconds.

A tear slid from one eye and into the hair above his ear. A shuddered breath accompanied it. He watched the ceiling of his shrine as the tear was followed by another one. He didn’t blot at them. The moisture would disappear into the fabric of his headdress. And he didn’t want to smear his appearance. He’d outlined his eyes heavily with kohl. Applied blue eye paint. And gold.

Another minute passed.

Slowly

Inexorably.

Excruciatingly.

Honoring his promise to Geena was the hardest thing he’d ever done. It eclipsed every battle. Every test. Any injury. Sokar had called on every facet of strength in his possession just to rise from his knees in his father’s tomb and face her. Nausea had punched him in the gut. Sweat had broken out along his hairline. Pain had sapped his strength. It required every fiber of integrity in his body to take her back. And it necessitated every inch of honor that he claimed to let her go.

He didn’t know how he’d managed to do it.

He still didn’t.

The thieves were being hasty. Causing a lot of damage. An
ushabtis
statue rattled on a shelf and then fell. He heard it break. He must have failed in his quest earlier. He may have missed one of the previous thieves. They’d remembered where the tomb was. And now they’d returned. They’d breached one of the middle rooms. A store room. And what did any of that that matter? Everything in these two tombs – everything he’d owned and protected – was worthless! Chunks of matter. Inanimate objects. Material possessions with no real value. He knew that now.

The only thing that mattered was Geena.

And she’d left him.

189 hours ago.

113448 minutes.

680650 seconds...and counting

Time just kept passing. Nothing stopped it. He hadn’t known heartbreak was a real affliction. The pain came swiftly. Unbidden. It could start with a memory. He remembered her scent. Every gesture. Each argumentative, yet infinitely precious word she’d said. The pain was tangible. Many times it became unbearable. Nothing muted it. There was no unguent to salve it. No magical spell that would relieve it.

He’d even sobbed. It should be mortifying. He told himself he shamed his legacy. His soldiers would have been shocked and horrified. His father disgusted. His mother embarrassed and saddened. And none of that did a thing against agony of a level he hadn’t known existed.

Death was the only release he could think of.

He would welcome it.

Rustling sounds reached his ear. Someone shouted in jubilation. Finally! His shrine had been spotted. Along with the intact seal. Someone made a shushing sound. They were speaking Arabic. He wondered why they whispered, and then set every thought aside as immaterial. He needed to concentrate. Prepare. He begged the gods silently for an assist. He needed to be still. Immobile. Completely unemotional.

And his prayers were answered.

His heart responded first. Wonder of wonders! It ceased sending pain with every beat. The rhythm gradually slowed. Dimmed. His breathing followed, becoming the slightest motion of his chest. And then he closed his eyes.

The gilded wood shrine creaked as they broke the seal. Pulled open the door. He smelled them instantly. Unwashed bodies. Oil burning in their lamps. Sokar almost scrunched his nose. He cracked an eye open. It looked like a cadre of thieves, several holding aloft oil lamps. His canines tingled and then responded, lengthening despite everything. Several men loomed over him and each had a ludicrously shocked and horrified look on their face. He nearly smiled.

“Aiee!”

Someone screamed. A lamp dropped. Cracked. If they started a fire, he was really going to be angered.

“Stop, you fool! You’ll burn us alive!”

He could burn?
Was that a possibility? Or would he simply rejuvenate after everything finished smoldering?

“Idiot!”

“Come back here!

“It is the curse!”

“Wait a moment! All of you!”

An old man peered into his sarcophagus. He had his lips pursed as he gingerly reached forward and prodded Sokar’s side with his pick. Sokar caught the flinch before it happened.

“This place is cursed! I tell you!”

“Hush!”

The old man poked Sokar again. This time, there was a sting as his pick opened skin. There was a concerted gasp as it drew blood. Sokar felt it welling and then it trickled down his side and into the layers of linen padding beneath him. And he actually kept any reaction from happening.

“Aiee!”

The screamer yelled again. Sokar’s jump was disguised by everyone else’s reaction.

“It is the curse! We must go!”

“And leave all this gold? Are you insane?”

“I will not stay and—!”

A burly-looking fellow smacked the screamer. He hit one side of the shrine. There was a distinct cracking noise.

”Stop that, you two! You damage what cannot be replaced! Fools!”

The old man shuffled along the side of Sokar’s coffin. Toward his head. He lost sight of him. A moment later, the fellow put a finger beneath Sokar’s upper lip and lifted it. There was a concerted gasp through the chamber. The old man’s voice shook.

“I...have seen this once before.”

“You have?”

“Yes. When I was a little boy.”

“You were never a little boy, Meni.”

Ah. The elderly one is named Meni.

“Silence! This is no laughing matter. The men had to go the cemetery to handle it.”

“Handle...what?”

“A
khafash
.”

“A what?!” someone expostulated.

“This is a vampire. I’m almost certain.”

The screamer was speaking again, so quickly it sounded like gibberish. “I told you—! ...no good! I told you! There is—! It is cursed! I told—!” Unintelligible strings of shrieks interspersed his words.

“Someone silence Haffid,” the old man spoke from the area above Sokar’s head.

It sounded like a shovel hit the fellow, but it could have been anything. The body sagged onto the bottom of his sarcophagus, leaned headfirst into the enclosure, and started dripping blood onto Sokar’s sandals. He fought the instant hunger even as his fangs reacted, lengthening further. His mouth watered. The muscles in his shoulders tightened. Those in his chest were next. The golden collar lifted. He couldn’t seem to prevent any of it.

“He’s damaging the goods!”

Someone pulled the screamer off and dropped the body out of sight. It made a rustling sound. Sokar swallowed surreptitiously. No one noticed.

“What do we do, Meni? What?”

“What do we do? We kill it.”

Oh! Thank the gods! Meni knew what to do.

“...and then we take everything,” the old man continued. “Do you see this coffin he’s in? The innermost one?”

Someone lifted a lamp, sending light into the corners. Every shadow disappeared. Someone gasped.

“Is that...gold?” The words were gasped.

“Looks like it.”

“Real gold?” The gasped voice had become a shriek.

“Yep.”

“Solid gold?”

Somebody whistled.

“Anybody want to run now?” Someone else spoke up.

“Not me. That coffin is worth millions!”

“Maybe billions,” someone added.

“Okay, then! Let’s do this. Let’s kill it and get moving!”

“But, how, Meni?”

“Yes? How?”

“Beheading is one way. Anyone have a sword?”

“I have a dagger.”

Sokar stiffened. He wondered if he’d actually be able to lie still while someone sawed at his neck.

“Too dull. We’d need a sharp blade. One swipe. Maybe two. How about wood? We can use wood. Sharpened. To make a stake.”

“Nobody brought wood.”

“Is there any wood out there?”

“Don’t know. Nobody checked.”

There is a lot of wood. The couches are fashioned of wood. The chariots. Most of the chests...

“Well? What are you waiting for? Go! Find something! Quickly! Before the sun sinks and the thing awakens!”

Several of them left the enclosure. Not Meni. Sokar watched through barely open eye slits as the old man went down one side of the sarcophagus and back up the other. His fingers trailed the edge as he moved.

“You are a very large fellow, aren’t you? Very fit. You would have made a fine pharaoh, I think. One, I would have readily followed. I do not know my history that well, but you have a very impressive collection of goods. Are those your chariots out there? Your
ushabtis
? Your jewelry? And this...”

His fingers lifted the vulture collar. Tested the weight before dropping it back onto Sokar’s upper chest and throat.

“The goddess,
Nekhbet.
Very fine gold-work. Extremely impressive. This alone is worth more than I will ever make.”

What was keeping the others?

“I wonder who you are,” Meni pondered aloud.

Sokar didn’t move. Not a twitch betrayed him. And then, it no longer mattered what the fellow thought or what he said. It was enough that he was there. Handling what needed to be handled. Sokar closed his eyes. Searched his memory. Concentrated. Brought Geena’s face to mind. Her beautiful dark eyes. Lush lips. Soft skin. So dear. So...priceless.

Soon now. It will all be over.

“We found something!”

The enclosure filled with men again. Sokar didn’t open his eyes to check. He felt them. They surrounded his coffin.

“You brought a chariot spoke? You fool! It’s covered in gold! A complete golden chariot is worth a fortune to an antique dealer!”

Meni’s voice broke through Sokar’s reverie. Sokar actually felt a hint of anger at the destruction they’d done, and then he relaxed again. What did a chariot matter anymore? What did any worldly good matter? There was only one thing of value in the world.

And he had lost it.

If any had looked at his face they’d have seen the wayward tear he couldn’t control as it snuck from beneath his lashes. They might spot the shiver that accompanied it, running along his skin, lifting goose bumps in its wake. But, no one was looking. They were too busy arguing over possessions.