❝death is only the beginning.❞
Mara El-Masri's fascination with the long-ago world of ancient Egypt started with the stories her stepfather would tell her when she was a child. Her brother Talib El-Masri is missing, left after their mother's funera...
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THE BRISK AIR swept across Talib's skin, bit at his ears until he woke. Caught in a state of disorientation, like waking up from a mid-afternoon nap, the world was a blur around him—and his memories along with it—as his vision adjusted to the darkness of the room. He took a few moments to collect himself, to try and remember where he was and what had happened, and pushed himself up on the soft surface he'd fallen asleep on. A pillow fell onto the floor, landing next to an open book.
Ah, yes, his sister's couch. He recognized the living room of the Carnahan home, then remembered that he'd insisted on staying the night in order to let them have some much needed rest after the past few days they'd had. He was better off here than at the museum trying to answer ancient riddles. He'd watch out for Sarah and take care of anything that came up that needed taking care of, he'd said to Mara and Jonathan.
Sarah—she'd come downstairs when he was reading, hadn't she? Around ten or eleven, he recalled. Said something about feeling bad he would be awake all night because of her. Wanted to make some tea for him, said the specific kind would help keep him awake (almond-flavored? it hadn't tasted very almond-like), and the last thing he wanted to do was make her feel bad and make things more difficult for her than they were already. So, he accepted the offer, they talked about his book whilst the tea was being made, and she went back upstairs as quiet as a mouse when it was ready. He settled back on the couch with his book and the cup of tea. But that was the last thing he remembered.
The cup sat empty on the table, only traces of the tea he'd drank left inside. He moved to pick up the pillow he'd knocked off when he woke up and saw that his book was lying open on the floor, like he'd fallen asleep reading it. Add that to the fact that he'd woken up aching in one of the most uncomfortable positions he had ever been in (and he had once been shot in the shoulder, and the scar still pulled at him), his neck sore and his arm numb, there was a pretty good chance he had been out like a light. He shouldn't have fallen asleep so easily—it was stupid and foolish and his sister was absolutely going to kill him when she found out. Probably. Maybe.
He had one job, given to him by himself and no one else: stay awake. He failed—his sister, her family, himself. But the thing was, it was cold in this house. Cairo wasn't cold.
When Talib stood, picked up his book from the floor and tossed it onto the coffee table, he heard it. The sound of wind chimes ringing, a whisper in the wind. His father's words about Hamunaptra echoed through his thoughts. How was it that simple sentence seemed to be about everything? The breezes whisper as if you are not alone. The hair on his arms stood on end as he stepped forward to where the sounds were coming from, hoping he was just being paranoid. But moonlight was coming into the house from the open front door, and a small body laid just outside, and everything turned upside down.
