The Grants Artefacts

10 The Temple of the Snake Eyed King

The temple of the Snake Eyed King

Once he was gone Arundel did cry, through frustration and anger at herself, and then she had an overwhelming need to be alone. She couldn't spend another night with Severus, as he gently probed her for reasons why she was so cold, and in finding none would find fault in himself. She wished their relationship was a decade old and they were more comforted by a cup of tea and a crossword than each others bodies, she wished it wasn't so hard to constantly have to preempt or second guess what somebody was thinking. That's why she learned to read minds in the first place; because she was too lazy to guess. She dried her hair, pulled on her old clothes and decided to leave Snape a message. It was hard to compose, and in her head, the first three attempts were overly long or sounded needy and made her feel more disgusting than she already did. Eventually, she settled for. I'll be back before Tuesday. Which was ok, wasn't it? Nothing there to upset, or over think. No apology or explanation too and perhaps Snape needed that, but she didn't want to give it. She couldn't, not yet at least.

In her own room, deep in her travel case she stood in front of the only picture hanging on the wall and tapped the frame. "Amber," she called. "Amber?" The picture, which was a blank background, filled with the face of a younger girl with beautiful green-black eyes and long black hair. She was wearing a dark dress, and she smiled.

"It's late here," the girl said.

"Amber where's here?" Arundel asked, her voice exasperated.

"Thebes."

"Really?" Arun sighed.

"Oh yes," the portrait smiled. "Are you coming to see us?"

"I want to, but only if it's safe to."

"It's never safe."

"Can I come anyway?"

The painting shrugged. "I'll ask," she disappeared. Arun passed back and forth, packing clothes into a bag along with money. She kept checking, kept glancing at the picture, and realised as she paced she chewed her lip. She'd never felt so desperate.

"Ok." Arun looked up, the painting was back. "But be quick about it," and the girl in the picture turned and walked away, a tunnel formed and grew until Arun could follow her. As she walked in this dark corridor she had a sensation like her stomach was falling away from her body but over and over and then a blast of hot air shrunk her skin and she looked around at the inside of a very lavishly decorated bedouin tent, hung with lanterns which cast green and purple light around the room. "Amber?" Arundel called, and from a mass of blankets a black-haired woman, older than her portrait and five years senior to Arundel sat up.

"Hello, sis."

"Thank you for letting me stay," she said and then burst into tears.

"That time of the month is it?" her sister sniggered, which didn't help, but she did get up and pull Arundel into a tight hug. "Hi," she said again and held Arundel at arm's length. "What's up?"

Arundel shrugged, her big sister turned from her and waved her wand to get water heating for a cup of tea. "You've caught me on the move," she said. "I'm actually on the outskirts of Thebes, last night I was attacked at my hotel by James Deacon and his people. Whatever I do to keep one step ahead, they are always there," she rolled her eyes. "They won't find me here. This tent's hidden inside a rock in the middle of the desert. Come on. Sit down." Amber motioned for Arun to take a round puff of a seat, and she poured loose leaf tea for her and sat opposite. "So you're in trouble of your own then?" Amber asked.

"I'm just.... Yeah." Arun puffed out her cheeks, "Why do you always assume if I'm upset it's 'that time of the month'"

"Because," her sister pushed a long lock of hair behind her shoulder, "it usually is. Four weeks out of every five you're a stone-cold killer."