See disclaimers in chapter 1.
In the desert outside Cairo
Strong arms caught the priestess as she swayed, lowering her gently to sit on the floor of the tent. There was rustling of clothing and then a warm cloak was spread over her shoulders. Naked but for the body paint and beginning to feel the chill of the night time desert now that she wasn't in a trance anymore, she drew it around her and accepted the mug of hot coffee offered her. Warming her cold fingers by pressing them against the mug the priestess waited for her breathing to slow down and her head to stop pounding. She could feel the tension emanating from the man who sat next to her, his daily escalating impatience held in check by his will; that same will keeping him from pacing the tent up and down, or raining her with questions she didn't have answers to. It was that very will that had enabled him to survive a nightmarish childhood and brought him out the streets of Athens, gotten him educated and made him someone to reckon with. Sometimes his will power seemed limitless.
That very will was the thing that had first attracted DaHak's attention . What had sealed his fate, however, had been the second thing DaHak had seen. Fear. Fear of returning back to who he had been - a child growing up on the demon infested streets of Athens, Fear of losing control, of himself and his circumstances... a fear buried so deep that he most likely wasn't aware it of even now, or if he were, would vehemently deny it if anyone asked. It had been the fear that had allowed the priestess seduce him to the dark side, to serve DaHak, but it was his will that kept him loyal to the Master.
And because they served DaHak, they were now sitting here in the middle of the desert and her head felt like it would explode. She had tried to cut the connection to the k'tginka before it died but hadn't been fast enough, strong enough. It had nearly taken her with it to the Other Side. It was the price she paid for being far away from a Holy Ground: her powers were only a fraction of what she was used to, making the simplest task a strain. But at least she'd learned something through the k'tginka.
"It is not the slayer who is soul-protecting the sixth one... It is someone else."
David Kyriakides jumped up and stormed out of the tent, letting loose a violent stream of obscenities in his native tongue. The priestess smirked; so his will did have limits. Then she got up and followed him outside. The six acolytes were sitting or standing around or near the camp fire, dressed in their regular clothes as they had not been needed for tonight's session. She repeated to them what she had said to Kyriakides. In the darkness outside the camp they could hear a string of Greek expletives grind to a halt and a few moments later Kyriakides walked back in, in control of himself again. He voiced the questions that were uppermost in their minds:
"So it's not the slayer sister, or anyone else from the Covenant, it's not the husband, or anyone else she has come into contact with during the last six months - and we've been through everyone, even the bloody milkman she's never spoken to. So who the hell is it?! Who is protecting Cordelia Alverton Purdy?!"
"Well, basically it could be anyone she has ever come into contact with. That person might be protecting her and not even be aware of it... but he, or she, must be aware that we exist... must know that there is a world beyond their own."
When they had acquired the Eye of Light six months ago, and subsequently performed the rite that began the process of returning their Master into this world, none of them had dreamed that one of the six was soul-protected. That had thrown their time table; the other five chosen ones had come to them a long time ago and were at the place of Rebirth even now, but Cordelia Alverton Purdy had somehow managed to resist the binding. Indeed, upon going to England to investigate, it seemed at first that she didn't even see the dreams... Then they had discovered that she was soul-protected, and that together with her dislike of Egypt had enabled her to resist their efforts.
It enraged the priestess to know that now that the sixth one was finally here, it wasn't because of their efforts, but because of the meddling sister. But it didn't matter. The sixth one was here, and their next problem was to figure out a way to get her to the place of Rebirth, preferably killing the sister and the Covenant people in the process... but not getting themselves killed or exposed - they were outnumbered and too vulnerable, her powers being too weak here, this far from a Holy Ground. That meant the direct approach - simply kidnapping her - was out of question at the moment.
The priestess tuned back in time to hear Kyriakides go on:
"Oh great, what with the Med-jai and the legends of this bloody country, that makes it only what, half of the population that we need to worry about! How are we supposed to find that someone? You're not exactly on your strongest in this blasted country." Kyriakides' tirade rippled through her, only one word remaining with her.
The Med-jai. The guardians of Hamunaptra, City Of The Dead. Many people had forfeited their lives in search of that place; purred on by stories of treasures beyond measure. But what interested the priestess was that, according to Covenant knowledge as handed down through generations, the site where Hamunaptra had been built had been a place of worship for the Ancients back when the Covenant was till new, making it one of the rare Holy Grounds in Egypt... and that meant her powers would work there.
So, if grabbing the chosen one in Cairo was out of the question... then get them out to the desert, to a certain fabled city, guarded by equally fabled but very real and, if the stories and legends were true, deadly warriors. Between the Med-jai and herself, the slayer and her friends would not have a chance. They would have to be careful of course, and grab the chosen one not too early, or too late. The timing would have to be just right, but it could work.
Oh yes, it would work...
The clock was five minutes to ten by the time Christina and Douglas finally entered the hotel's lobby. It had taken them fifteen minutes to walk there from the alley, and Christina had spent every minute regretting that they hadn't taken a car. Because the hotel was only an half an hours walk from the Covenant safe house, and because she and Douglas had just spent the better part of the day cramped up in a crowded train neither of them had even thought of driving over, too eager for a brisk walk in open air. So now they were almost an hour late from the meeting, and although being attacked by demons was as good a reason as any and better than most, it wasn't one she could tell Cordelia.
Christina stopped for a moment to let her eyes sweep the lobby, hoping to spot Cordelia as well as taking in and memorizing the faces and the places; the sweeping stairway leading upstairs and the doorways to the restaurant, the garden and other parts of the hotel, the type and placement of the furniture. She took note of a group of four Europeans, two men and two women in their thirties and forties, chatting and laughing while - from snippets of their talk she heard - waiting for their carriage to arrive. There was another European man, more or less inebriated, who was being scolded by a woman on their way upstairs.
She took note of hiding places, possible and probable routes and hide-outs that an attacker might use, or that would aid escaping if necessary. She knew that beside her Douglas was doing the same; it was part of who they were and what they did. You never knew where the next attack would come from. Be prepared was a motto of anyone who served the Covenant.
Too bad the Circle had not been prepared, she thought. If they had been, the Eye would not have been stolen and they would not be in this mess right now, and Cordelia would be safe in her home in England where she belonged. But crying over spilled milk didn't do any good, and she resolutely pushed these thoughts from her mind. What is, is, and she had to deal with reality.
Not seeing Cordelia she briskly strode through the lobby to the front desk with Douglas in tow. Younger of the two Egyptian receptionists greeted them in fluent English which bore nearly no trace of an accent as he spoke:
"Good evening, Madame, Sir. How may I help you?"
"We're here to meet Lady Purdy, but I don't see her here... Do you know where she is?"
"Ah yes, Lady Purdy said to tell you that she is in the garden, Madame."
"Very well. Thank you."
Christina saw her sister immediately upon reaching the garden doors, her protective instinct homing in on Cordelia with unerring accuracy. Her sister was sitting in a chair lost deep in her thoughts, not noticing the lush garden around her or paying attention to other people in there. Christina and Douglas stopped beside her.
"Cordelia?"
Cordelia looked up, startled, then a relieved smile spread on her face when she saw who it was. She jumped up and hugged her sister tightly.
"Christina! You're here!"
Unbidden, the words the demon had spoken not long ago, came back to Christina.
She'll be one of us...
What had the demon meant by that? What exactly was needed to resurrect DaHak, a demon-god, and how exactly did her sister figure in it? Hugging Cordelia fiercely back, Christina swore silently that nothing would happen to her sister. She wouldn't allow it.