Get out your popcorn, tourists beware, here comes a paranormal adventure with a historical twist, set in Egypt--and Britain.
From Chapter 29 'Darkness': 'Did I just try to dive into that goo to get at a dead guy?' Trueth asked.
Define dead,' Me...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
'And now?' Trueth placed her mug on the disgusting tea table and traced swirls in the dust covering its surface. She was observing him from behind the curtain of her frizzy mane and Metjen noticed she was even paler than usual, the freckles standing out like bruises. She had also lost weight, reminding him of one of these skinny fashion models he so despised. Minus the looks, of course.
You are being unfair, he thought. She's your friend, and she's in real trouble. She just tried to hug a train.
He sipped at his tea, then placed his mug next to hers. The brew tasted funny, as if Trueth had rinsed it, but not got rid of the washing up liquid. The perfect hostess she was not, but there were extenuating circumstances. And he should at least try to offer priestly support. Only, the how was tricky, as she had never appreciated any of his ministrations. He chose his words with care.
'Now be a sensible witch and come to Egypt with me,' he said. 'Iseret tells me she will pardon you a final time. You must atone for ignoring her orders, but it will not be too bad. Give us a chance. Give yourself a chance. You've learned a lot onboard 'Selket', but there's much more to you than meets the eye.'
Trueth snorted, but he had seen the brief smile on her face.
From what he had glimpsed of her life, Iseret must be a soft option. But there were more points they needed to discuss. He fought with the sofa and only won through unfair means as he mind-lifted himself out of its mouldy embrace. He went into the bathroom and turned on the cold tap.
'What are you doing?' Trueth called from the livingroom.
'I've filled your bathtub with water,' he shouted. He turned off the tap, washed his hands and wiped them on his jeans. Back in the living room he chose one of the ladder-back chairs next to the dining table. At least he would have no problems getting up. 'You now have water for venting. And you should clean the tub more often. The rest of your sanitary arrangements also could do with some TLC.'
'My fridge is clean,' Trueth said.
'Glad to hear that, I hadn't dared to venture into your kitchen.'
'If I return to Egypt with you—and I say if... .'
Metjen had to stop himself from banging on the table with relief. He did not want to damage the furniture even further. Or get unidentifiable substances on his fingers.
'... then I need to be sure I'm not turning my back on things that are there, and I just don't see them.'
'You mean your people, let's call them witches?'
She nodded.
'I searched for them, in Britain, in Germany and a few other places,' he said. 'No witches anywhere. I know you tried to find them, but I suspect you used the wrong approach. As Iseret said, magical talent developed way before the witch hunts.'
