Author's note : I'm hoping to be able to draw Pity to a conclusion sometime soon, though I'm not quite sure. My thanks to those who answered my previous plea with the good advice I so pleasantly asked for. ^_^
The real Chapter Seven, for your enjoyment:
It was impossible. Some demon had intruded into his mind and fed to him those lascivious thoughts. Never before had he likened his wonderful goddess to a seductress. In truth, she kept him on his toes so much, he had begun to think of her more as his current pharaoh.
As a natural human reaction, Imhotep's consciousness sought to blame Amaya for everything. What did she think? Was she trying to do this to him? Did she not realize that if she was irresistible to other men, she would be irresistible to him as well? Then again, these feelings had not plagued him before.
Before what? Before he had begun to realize that he, a mortal cursed by Anubis and shunned by Osiris, had fallen in love with a goddess whom he had no right to even glance upon in the least corrupt manner.
Even as he unglued his feet from the sidewalk and continued on his way to the Cafe at which he still planned to dine, questions plagued him. Everything he had queried over in the past months. All of them were unanswerable by him. Maybe one day in the future, before his time on the mortal Earth was over, he would gather enough courage to ask Amaya.
Would Azana even realize he was gone? Damnation! Sorrow always struck at the most inopportune times, as it did now. His beautiful daughter had begun to mean everything to him, and he could no longer deny it to himself.
And his wife, and home, and friends. They were his entire life now. Not only had he grown dependant on their love, but they had subtly changed his personality. He was much more social now than he had been when he had first become Marcus Lunderman. As Amaya had so blatantly explained to him one evening during their meal, he had grown in popularity because he retained all the traits that present-day mortals were attracted to: he was pleasing to look at and pleasing to listen to; he had an excellent sense of humor, when he chose to use it, and a striking charm that was rarely found in humans. He was very intelligent, and was on his way to being downright friendly.
None of those words had been his. They had passed through Amaya's lips, and despite his disbelief in both the fact that she felt this of him and that it was true, he was hardly in a state to deny her anything.
He continued to make new acquaintances -- which gradually grew into friends. Close friends with whom he and Amaya had shared countless hours of talking and laughing and joking.
Gods, he hadn't had so many friends in Egypt. He had had servants, a deity, and a master and that was that. Friends in court stabbed you in the back, and friends on the street and in the palace sought only to further their own status or wealth. But the friends he had in this world had their own share, and didn't care for nor try to take anything that belonged to him by right unless he offered it to them.
Maybe Amaya had something to do with that. Perhaps she had influenced only the most reputable of persons to become his comrades.
But were not the O'Connells a respectable family? Why then, delay Imhotep's meeting with them unless to make sure that Imhotep would not lunge for Rick and rip his heart out given first chance?
Subconsciously, Imhotep felt his fingers flex in his pockets. That wouldn't be a bad idea, actually. But, of course, Amaya would surely send him straight to the Underworld for such savage behavior. And how would that have helped anything? He wasn't looking to be damned for eternity; he just wanted to give Rick a piece of what he deserved, what for ruining Imhotep's plans of world domination and all.
Laughter bubbled up inside him, but only a smile made its way to the surface. That smile was both grim and amused. Of course he wouldn't mind being ruler of the Earth, but he had a strong hunch that Amaya wouldn't let him keep Azana if he tried to take over again, and no worse punishment could be given to Imhotep than the deficiency of wife and daughter.
By the time Imhotep reached the Cafe, he had lost his appetite, but since he enjoyed the location so much, he decided to stay and have a drink. He quickly found an empty table and made himself comfortable in the cushioned wicker chair. A paperboy wandered by and Imhotep exchanged a few more coins for a slightly damp newspaper.
A trick he had learned while sitting at that spot, his favorite seat in the entire restaurant, was that he could see every single thing that went on around him with a few simple glances. With the sun out, the umbrellas that usually stretched over the tables had been taken down to let guests enjoy the warmth while it lasted, thus improving the expansive view.
The Cafe Indigo was set in the corner of a park just north of Imhotep's office, and a short brick wall separated the park from the street that circled it. Throughout the commons, children frolicked through the eternally green grass, while many of their parents enjoyed the coffee and magnificent wine that the Cafe served on weekdays at lunch. Chairs and tables were spread wide and open in order to allow guests and waiters easy access to every table. Lovers and groups of friends loitered at the elegant fountains that sparkled in the now proudly beaming noonday sun.
Everything seemed more beautiful when he was dwelling on Anubis and the agony that most certainly waited for Imhotep at the end of this Egyptian year. Though not an easy subject to approach, Imhotep still wondered what sort of torture Anubis had in store for him. Unlike almost all mortals, Imhotep knew what kinds of games his gods played with the humans they were displeased with, and how they liked to play them. Sadism was a word that was most commonly used to describe it.
Despite the fact that it was rather quiet, Imhotep was still surprised when a hand clapped down over his shoulder. He sat up quickly and turned in his chair to confront his visitor. He was nearly eye level with the man who stood at his back, with a curly mustache and cheerful blue eyes that seemed to squint out from his pudgy face.
It had come as a shock when this man had first laid a finger on Imhotep in a good-humored attempt to startle. That was several days into Imhotep's new life, and he had not yet had the chance to rein in his split-second instincts. Unfortunately, those instincts were, at the time, to whirl around, grab his assailant by the neck, and lock him in such a position that one movement to the left or right would crack the spine in two.
After Amaya had managed to pry Imhotep from his deadly stance, she had properly introduced the two, and they had been friends ever since.
"Good afternoon, Arthur." Said Imhotep in an amused voice. The jovial man grinned and sat down in an opposite chair, crossing his right foot onto his left knee and reaching for one of the discarded newspaper sections to scan over.
"Wonderful day, Marcus. Absolutely beautiful." Arthur replied in that paradoxical way he had of speaking. "I trust you've been going along alright?"
Imhotep smiled and leaned forward, shifting position as he, too, reached for a different segment in the paper. "Well, I'm not dead yet," He countered softly. Arthur chuckled, but his eyes met Imhotep's and something along the lines of understanding passed between them in secret. Here were two men who truly respected life, and both for very different reasons.
Arthur had lost his wife, brother-in-law, and three daughters to a slow, rare, painful and chronic illness a little over seven years earlier. He had suffered through every attorney, doctor, and medical examiner in England who had traveled miles at a time to question him about everything that had happened during the last days of his families' lives. How could one go through so much pain and not realize the true frailty of life?
And of course, Imhotep had maybe seven months, tops, of his own existence left until...eternal torment. But after being faced with that sentence for weeks already, Imhotep had become a master of shoving it into the back of his mind and moving on to different subjects.
"Have you heard of the new showcase at the museum?" Arthur snorted at this, but not rudely, and continued to examine an article about shipping delays in London due to storms off the coast.
"Of course I have. Evelyn's spoken of nothing more ever since those fossils were transported here last month." Unlike Imhotep, Arthur was very engaged with the O'Connells, and often stopped by at Imhotep's home to say hello after an evening of entertainment at Evelyn and Rick's mansion. "Nothing but a few boxes of melted sand and brittle seashells, if you ask me." He muttered. Imhotep nodded in compliance, but said nothing.
Arthur held no interest at all in the past, for it had brought him only pain. He often avoided it as much as possible, so it came as a wonder that he was such good friends with the relic-loving, grave-robbing, tomb-plundering O'Connells.
Two cups of steaming hot coffee were set gently onto the table by a young man in a black long-sleeved shirt and dark brown slacks. He smiled at the two men and indicated that the coffee had been ordered under Arthur's tab. Imhotep nodded and took the cup.
If there was one thing the gods had truly blessed the mortals with, it wasn't coffee. Imhotep still hadn't developed a taste for it, but Amaya had indicated very clearly that he was to drink it, and so he did, without quarrel.
"You should take Amaya to see it." Arthur peered at his comrade from over the lid of his mug, the creases in the corners of his eyes indicating very clearly his mischievous smile. "She enjoys that sort of thing, eh?" Arthur was just that kind of friend. To him, there was never enough love in a friend's relationship. But Imhotep tolerated it because on other subjects, Arthur was a fascinating debater.
"She does." Imhotep replied, with a grin he could only hope was casual. Arthur let the thought hover in the air for several moments, despite Imhotep's semi-obvious discomfort. Finally, he cleared his throat and sat up straighter, indicating a change of subject matter.
"Evelyn took the day off. Could be around here somewhere. She's been talking about another trip to Egypt next month." He paused, frowned, and raised an eyebrow at Imhotep. "Might as well move there. I don't see the good in keeping a home in England other than to keep citizenship in England. And even that is cheaper in America." They both laughed softly. Imhotep had yet to see America, which was maybe third on the list he had created in his mind, of things to do and see while he still had the chance.
But Egypt was a different story. To see his beloved temples in ruins had saddened him enough the last two times he'd been there. No doubt, the ancient gods were displeased. No wonder Amaya was so bitter.
He glanced at his watch and stood up with an apologetic smile. Azana would be arriving home from school in several minutes. He wanted to be there today, to see her.
"If you would excuse me Arthur, I shall be off to see my daughter home from school." Arthur smiled heartily and stood as well, extending his hand to grasp Imhotep's with a strength that many, though not Imhotep, wouldn't expect of the portly man.
"A lucky man, he that can spend half an hour and work and then be able to enjoy the rest of this fine, fair day without a care." Imhotep tilted his head at the muted jealous tone he heard in his friend's voice. Arthur shook it off with a kind smile. "Give your wife my regards."
"Certainly." Imhotep hesitated, fighting the urge to say the same to him. But of course, this was impossible. Arthur's wife was dead. "Good day, Arthur." They nodded in farewell, and went their separate ways.
