Visions of Fire and Ice (The Petiri) (22 page)

Her body was shoved hard into the brick, slicing into her flesh, ripping her shirt over her breasts. Her cheek slammed into the wall, her tender skin scraping against the rough stone.

The smell of unwashed flesh burned her nostrils and turned her stomach, and he leaned in to her. “So, my pretty, are you ready for some fun?”

The icy tendrils of fear crawled up Tamara’s spine, stiffening it for what was to come. She raised her leg and slammed her heel into his foot. He groaned, but only held on tighter. His breath was heavy and disgusting in her ear. “So, you want to play rough, do you?”

He spun her around to face him then slapped her hard across the face. She let out a scream and tried to run, but he grabbed her arm and threw her back, striking her head against the reddened stone. A knife blade shimmered in the weak light, clenched in his fist.

He slid it along her face, the cold metal pressing against

her flesh.

A whimper of fear escaped her throat.

“Excellent.” His breath hissed through his teeth. “I love it when you’re scared. When I finish with you, you’ll be more terrified than scared, my pretty.”

“Please, stop” she whispered, but he merely laughed. The blade trailed down her neck to her blouse. As though it were butter, the sharp edge of the blade sliced through the threads holding the top button in place. She heard it ping to the ground.

Tamara twisted from his arms, desperate to escape, fighting the icy claws of terror now clutching her wildly beating heart. He laughed again, but one hand closed over her neck, squeezing her throat, blocking the precious flow of oxygen to her lungs. Tamara froze instantly, begging him with her eyes to release her.

“Such a sweet morsel you are, child. Keep fighting for me.” The knife flicked another button. Her fingers clawed at his hand, and spots flickered before her eyes. The pressure eased on her throat, and Tamara gasped for breath, only to feel another button sliced from her blouse. The man slipped the blade to his mouth, holding it in his teeth, then reached beneath her wide skirt, and ripped her panties away.

She tried to scream, but the instant she took a deep breath, he squeezed her throat again, strangling any chance for a call for help. Tears poured from her eyes, wetting her cheek. She fought him with all she had, but he was too strong for her. His meaty fist grabbed the knife again and cut open her bra, and the warm, damp breeze rushed in on her.

Amunkha’s laugh echoed through the chamber. He let go of her body as suddenly as he’d taken hold.

Her legs buckled, and her limp body dropped to the cold hard floor, her eyes wide as she stared up at him.

“Get up,” he said his voice hard and flat, his eyes icy black, a sneer on his lips. “We’ll have more time for this later, my dear. Do not be so disappointed. I will have you before I kill you.”

Her body shook. Her sanity slowly returned. “No.” The word came out as a croak. The past was over. An image of Ramose unfolded in her mind. A man whose warmth and comfort, despite the cold he commanded, would save her. Or she would save herself.

She swallowed hard and said it again, stronger this time, “
NO
.” She dug inside in search of the heat. She could feel it, she could sense it, but she couldn’t grasp hold of it. Whatever drug he’d given her seemed to hinder her skills. She tried to reach her fire, but all she found were embers.

Surprised, he arched an eyebrow at her.

“No?” He sneered, his lips curling. “It is already decided, my dear, the time is the only variable. Now,
get up
,” he ordered. When she hesitated, he grabbed her arm again, his fingers tight, bruising her as he lifted her with one hand.

Tamara swung. Her fist collided hard with his nose, and she spun about, kicking outward. Her foot contacted his thigh, missing the all-important spot. She didn’t care. She wasn’t going to be used. “Never again,” she cried.

White-hot fury erupted from the man before her. His energy spiked, and his dark, evil aura grew, as though circling and building strength. Tamara’s eyes widened, and she turned to run, but not before the cold steel of his blade sliced into her belly.

She screamed, grabbing for her stomach, as though trying to hold her insides within. She struggled for strength, but it eluded her, seeping out of her body even as her blood oozed between her fingers. Her knees buckled, and she collapsed to the floor. She didn’t feel the pain. Not really. Cold washed over. Not the cold of Ramose’s hands, but the bone chilling cold that stole her reason and threatened her life.

His laughter twisted through the darkness, digging into her body, shoving the chill from her spine to her heart. She wanted to be brave, but his evil was even worse than what she’d experienced as a child. She could see it as clearly as if it were a physical entity, a black blanket of evil wrapped around him, cocooned him in its cold reality.

Time would not stand still and await Ramose’s return.

She glanced at her hands. Blood dripped from each finger. The droplets traveled across the floor, searching out the crevices and seams of the stones beneath her feet. Her eyes fluttered, and her hand dropped to her side. Darkness seeped into the edges of her consciousness.

“Oh, no, you don’t,” he said. He put his hand over the wound. Heat burned in her side at his touch. “Not yet. You will not die until Ramose gets here.” The bleeding slowed, but did not stop. Her eyes fluttered open. He hadn’t saved her, merely slowed the inevitable.

“You’re going to die for this.” Her words were weak, but, inside, strength rushed through her remaining blood.

“Ramose has wanted to kill me for thousands of years, my dear. I have been here since before time and shall be here long after you are gone. I told you, you are no more than a pawn in our little cat and mouse game.”

Tamara’s ears were ringing, but she’d sworn he’d said thousands of years.

“
I am here, Kha-Ib. Be patient. Just a moment more.”

Tamara’s eyes jerked open. Had she really heard Ramose in her head?

Amunkha grabbed her wrist, dragging her into the next room, where he deposited her on the floor, her blood a sedentary red like the Nile. She wanted to fight, wanted to struggle, but the blood loss had weakened her. A spark of flame fluttered in her body. Whatever he’d done to heal her had awakened her talents. Maybe it had even cleansed the drug he’d given her. Now, if she could just stay alive long enough to use them.

“
Hurry
,” she whispered in her mind, hoping he could hear her. “
I’m hurt
.”

Explosive fury shot through the connection between them before he yanked it back. “
Hold on
,” he whispered. Not once had the Ramose of the past lost control when fighting for his life. In all her dreams, he’d always been cool and controlled, even when facing his brothers-in-law. Yet, now, she could sense the precipice to which he clung.

Cold seeped into her bones, at such odds with the flame growing in her chest. She fought to control her breathing. She wasn’t afraid anymore. No matter what happened, she knew one important thing. Even if he hadn’t admitted it, Ramose cared for her. His attraction wasn’t just physical.

The soft smile on her lips caused Amunkha to growl in response. Too bad. If she was to lose her life now, at least, she had Ramose’s love.
I love you
. She didn’t know if he could hear her, but she pinned her hopes that he could.

A soft hissing reached her ears. Sand trickled from above them, rushing toward the floor of the mastaba tomb. Or maybe it was her soul preparing to leave her body, for even her breathing was loud, reverberating around the room.

“Ahh, our guest is arriving. I can’t wait to see how he takes your impending death.” Amunkha’s voice was cold, an edge of steel beneath the casually spoken words.

Tears stung her eyes. She would not die. She couldn’t. Not now. She’d found him. Dreams or no dreams, he lived. Whoever he was, a man, always alone, he was hers.

Energy exploded through the room, ice forming on the already cold edges of stone. Tamara fought back a sob. Relief? Sadness? She wasn’t even sure she knew.

Ramose.

“Amunkha!” The force of her soul mate’s anger shook the foundation of the ancient tomb. Like tiny spider webs, ice crackled and weaved its way around the room, searching. For her?

Ramose stormed inside. Like her own avenging angel, he stalked, his body surging with the power which clung to his every tense muscle.

He halted directly in front of Amunkha, his face hard as stone, fury the only emotion that burned in his dark eyes.

He glowered at his nemesis, his hands balled into fists at his side. “Let. Her. Go.” Anger filled the room like an icy wind, chilling the air they breathed.

“Must you be so prosaic?” Amunkha stood, evil confidence wrapped around him. “Besides, I find your attachment to her amusing. A new toy. And I love to play with new toys. All these years, I thought you emotionless and boring. Imagine my surprise.”

“I will not allow you to drag innocents into our battle. You have severely miscalculated.” His voice was edged with steel. He took a step forward.

“I would not be so sure of yourself.” Amunkha’s teeth snapped, reminding Tamara of the image of a jackal as it stalked its prey.

Ramose caught her gaze, though his expression didn’t change. The tiniest of caresses brushed against her cheek. The small touch of power was warm, and she was so cold. Her fingers trembled, and she looked down her body, shocked to see ice forming and encircling her. It built upward, a clear wall of ice separating her from the men.

“No,” she croaked. She didn’t want protection. She didn’t want the cold. She needed to help. But the men ignored her. With lightning speed, the crystals formed above her, around her, encircling her. Protecting her from what she knew would be an intense battle.

She had to stop this. The cooling of her body could kill her, and, even if it didn’t, it would keep her from being able to help. She took a deep breath, reaching into her own core, building the tiny spark inside. The ice would not destroy her, nor would she allow Ramose to handle Amunkha alone. She had talents, and, with every passing moment, they surged forward at her command. Drug or no drug, Amunkha had made a big mistake.

* * * *

Ramose glared at Amunkha. A man he’d known almost since birth stared back at him, a cocky grin on his lips. A man who’d attempted to take his
Kha-Ib
from him. Fierce, protective anger surged inside him. No matter what, it was time to make the choice.

“Release her, or die,” he snarled. He’d intended to hold Amunkha off until Mereruka arrived. Mereruka, one of the few security men he’d ever met who was also a doctor. The man could fight like the wind, and, with the two of them, they could take Amunkha down.

Then he’d seen Tamara’s blood. A small trail snaked behind her and around the corner into the mastaba’s burial chamber. He couldn’t tell how much she’d lost, but as he’d formed the crystalline ice chamber over her body, she’d not moved, though he’d heard her whispered denial.

His protection. It was the only thing he could offer her until Amunkha was dead. The one thing he should have known she would need all along. The ice cocoon would keep her from losing too much blood, but it wouldn’t save her life.

“No, I think, Ramose, I’m going to let her die. I do so love her fear. It’s feeding me, even now. Keeping me strong. I can’t wait to see what happens to you when her life finally seeps away.”

Ramose exploded. Ice shot from his fingertips and like a spear, it flew across the room, targeting Amunkha’s chest.

Amunkha waved a hand, and an invisible shield formed between him and the ice spear. It crashed into the wall of energy, shattering beneath the impact. With a straightening of his arm, energy shot from Amunkha’s fingers, like a bolt of electricity.

Ramose rolled, ducking the electrical beam, and it burned harmlessly in the dust beside him. Who the hell was this? Amunkha couldn’t shoot electricity. Amunkha couldn’t create energy shields.

Ramose drew on his own energies, fighting to make himself blend in with his background while drawing strength from the sands beneath him. He needed more energy, more power to encase Amunkha as he had Tamara. The ice seeped from his body, webbing through the sands, moving toward his nemesis.

As the web moved forward, Amunkha struck, using his telekinesis. Statue after statue pummeled in Ramose’s direction, and he ducked, interfering with his concentration.

This was taking too long. For the first time since the day the boy king died, fear settled into Ramose’s heart. He had to get Tamara out of here. He took a deep breath, and, from the palms of his hands, shot layer after layer of ice toward the man. As hard as stone, the wall slammed into Amunkha, who rolled himself onto the ground.

“You will die, Ramose. Prepare yourself. Like Kiya, I will not allow you to live any longer.”

Moving to the offensive, Ramose shot the ice forward again, shocked when Amunkha merely raised his hand. The energy reversed, and in mere seconds, Ramose found himself in his own cocoon of ice. The walls rose high, coming into a point, completely entrapping him in a tomb of his own making. He growled in frustration and slammed his fist into the wall.

Nothing.

He turned and studied the sides. He could make ice, but he couldn’t melt it. His only hope was to find a weakness. Luckily, Amunkha didn’t understand the mechanics of a full shield such as this, and Ramose glimpsed the spider webbing where the back joined together.

A seam. A weakness.

He slammed his fist hard into it, all the while praying. The shield shattered like glass, the echo of a thousand shards of ice clattering to the floor rung in the cavern.

Ramose spun, and caught a glimpse of movement from behind Amunkha. Tamara was free. Her eyes were so big and afraid in her delicate, pale face. Somehow, she had found the energy to melt the ice he’d surrounded her in.

“No, Tamara,” he shouted. She ignored him, rolling to her belly. With a side arm pitch, her hand shot forward. Fire flared from her fingertips, slamming into Amunkha’s back. He erupted into hot orange and red flames. The bright fire hurt Ramose’s eyes, and he lifted an arm to block the glare.