THE MORNING AFTER

The air around Ardeth was cool and a light breeze was blowing over his body, tousling his hair very gently. For a moment, he lay completely still and didn't immediately open his eyes. Perhaps yesterday was a horrible dream and he would awaken in his time dealing with matters he better understood. However, his unconscious mind was beaten down by realism. He lay beneath cool linens soft to the touch. It was nothing of which he was accustomed. They enveloped him with a lovely floral scent. He didn't want to open his eyes and deal with the reality of his situation. He wanted to lie here for all eternity, never moving another muscle. It would be more than easy. Something about this bed and its smell seemed familiar. He felt more than comfortable here, as if he had known this place all his life.

Leven entered the bedroom from the living room. She had given the dehydrated stranger her bed and she had taken the couch. He needed it more than her. She stepped up to the foot of the bed and watched the man curiously. He lay sprawled beneath the sheets flat on his back. He had pushed the sheets almost past his navel, but not quite. Although she wasn't sure he would remember, she had drawn him a tepid bath to help alleviate the dehydration and muscle cramps that had seized him as a result. He stood before her, completely exhausted, and literally nodding on his feet. She had helped him undress and he even had the strength to argue with her. His modesty overwhelmed her. She had never been around a man like that in her life. After leaving him with a gigantic insulated mug of water, she stepped outside as he shed the rest of his clothing and sank his body into the tub of water. He stayed in the bathroom so long, she became concerned and cracked open the door. He had fallen asleep in the tub, his head leaned back against the wall, and one arm hanging over the edge as the other rested wearily on a knee he had drawn up close to his body. She noticed that he had completely drained the mug and drops of water on the floor indicated that he had refilled it at the sink. Unable to help herself, she crept into the bathroom and drew closer to him. The florescent light accentuated dozens of small scars scattered near his neck and over his shoulders. There were a few here and there on his arms. She wondered what happened to this man, what his job was, where he was from. He wasn't from the US that was easy to see. The tattoos disturbed her. They felt like mental pokes. When he began to stir, she backed out of the bathroom. He emerged after twenty minutes and had donned the thick terry cloth robe she laid out for him. He had trouble meeting her gaze. She tried to tell him that she hadn't seen anything [just your scars, your dark skin, the hint of the thick hair that would lead…never mind]. She had no idea who this man was, and she was already thinking dirty thoughts. She said nothing to him, only directed him toward the bed. He was too tired to argue about the sleeping arrangements and literally fell face first onto the bed. Leven had then removed the robe and laid it aside. He was naked underneath and she had to look at his naked ass. He was a beautiful, beautiful man, and she knew nothing about him. For all she knew, he could be a psychopathic ax murderer.

Ardeth opened his eyes slowly, finally convinced that he must face reality regardless of the temptation not to. When he looked around the strange room, he realized he hadn't been dreaming at all. He groaned a little and pushed his body into a sitting position with his elbows. He didn't know that he was being watched until the sheets began pulling away from his lower body. The woman in the room gasped aloud and turned around quickly. Startled, Ardeth instinctively reached for a scimitar that was not there. His robes were not there! As modest as an old maid virgin, he quickly covered his body from sight. Who was she? Why was she gazing upon his flesh? He didn't understand anything anymore. After the shock wore off, his breathing slowed down and he didn't seem to feel quite so perplexed. Leven had never felt so flustered in her life. She had been caught gazing upon his nude body as if she were some love starved pervert. Without a word, without a glance back, she left him. Ardeth chuckled a little and shook his head. What an unexpectedly bizarre start to his day. He glanced about the room, searching for something with which to cover his body. His eyes spied the thick garment she had provided last night. He remembered very little about coming in with her, laying his trust at a total stranger's feet. A tad on the weak side, he grabbed the robe and slipped into it, securing it about his waist. He would take time out to thank his hostess, find his own clothing, and then make his way onward. He had to admit that he was reluctant to leave, but he knew he could not linger.

Before he could begin his search, a tentative voice called out, "Are you decent?" He said that he was and she pushed open the door. Her peach-toned skin had reddened the slightest bit. "I'm so sorry I did that," she began nervously. "I came in to check on you. You were so messed up last night and I was worried. I didn't… didn't mean-"

"No. You do not have to apologize. This is your home; you are free to roam wherever you please. I am the intruder."

Lucid and well hydrated, Leven realized that his voice was deep, but mellow. There was a definite accent and a slight rolling of the R's in his speech. Oddly, he sounded like Caldo. In fact, he looked like Caldo. The only exceptions were the tattoos, the beard, and mustache. An image of her dream came sharply into focus only to fade. Leven Medlem was a realist, she didn't believe in prophecies, psychic dreams, or any of that shit. Vaguely, she wondered if this man was Caldo donning a different look. Was he toying with her? Although she had made it through the night without being afraid, she suddenly began to fear this stranger, to fear his interruption in her complicated life. She didn't know what to say or do. "Who are you," she asked, her lip trembling. "Who are you and what are you doing here?"

Ardeth immediately noticed the change in her demeanor. She had begun to act like the guard and the police officers. She feared him. How could he tell her who he was without needlessly drawing her into this strange mission of his? There was no way. Yet, he couldn't lie to her, either. He didn't enjoy misleading people or toying with their minds. "Do you know Egypt?" She nodded without speaking and he continued, "I came from Egypt. I have lost something valuable and I must find it. I appreciate your kindness, but if you will tell me where to find my robes, I will be on my way."

She took in a shocked breath. The man had begun to sound as if he were imbalanced. Perhaps she could give him back his weird outfit and shove him out the door, her good deed done for the day. She couldn't move or think. Her eyes were locked on him, unwavering. A spark, a very small cerebral spark nudged her, prompted her. It was telling her she knew this man, telling her that she needed to help him more. Yet, she fought it back. She couldn't allow his sexy dark good looks to seduce her. She had made one mistake with Caldo. She wouldn't make another. Suddenly, she felt as dirty as her Grandpa Q had accused. "Okay," she said. "I'll get your things." She turned away and left him.

Ardeth watched her several moments. Even when she was completely out of sight, he continued to gaze after her. He had a distinct impression that he had hurt her, but he didn't know how. After all, he didn't know her. She was nothing to him [oh, but she is]. Where did that through come from? He dismissed it as the aftereffects of his exhaustion and dehydration. He turned away from the door and moved back toward the bed. He had every intention of plopping heavily upon it, but hesitated. Something caught his eye. He didn't understand how he had missed it earlier. It was a small photo of a woman and her child. It was an older photo indicating that the woman in it was not the one who helped him last night. Yet, it caught his eye and he couldn't look away. Actually, he couldn't move. He was completely stunned and incredulous. It can't be. It cannot be. Carefully, he picked up the small frame and gazed down at the photograph. His finger traced a gentle line over the face of the child. She looked to be no more than five or six years old. The skin tone was different, as was the hair color, but the sweet, cherubic face haunted him, and pricked every sense he possessed. He had ingrained the image in his heart and had carried it with him four long years. The child gazing up at him, her smile eternally frozen in time, was Sharîk, but not she. The child, this young girl, was his malak [angel]. She had found him and gave him shelter. She was the woman who invaded his dreams and thoughts. No. He couldn't accept it despite knowing it was true. He had come to her, knowing that she was someone he needed, someone he wanted. His feet had led him here when his mind did not know why. He placed the frame back onto the small bed stand, unable to look at the photograph a moment longer. Believing she had a role to play, he knew he must tell her about the curse. In his heart, he denied that this woman would become his lover, denied it with every ounce of strength within him. Yet, fate had led him to her and she was a part of this. Hazz had been wrong. Hazz had been wrong about a lot of things, about everything. He looked up when she called out softly again. He had been distracted. How long had he sat here, gazing at that photograph? How would he go about telling her without her thinking he was mad? He even knew her name now. It was an odd name, one he had only heard in his dreams. Leven.

When he didn't immediately answer, Leven cleared her throat to make her presence known again. He sat on the side of the bed in a strange daze. She grew frightened again and hoped she hadn't made a grave mistake by inviting him inside. She checked her wristwatch. Oh great. She was late for work and couldn't leave until the stranger left her. She could tell he sensed her presence, but he refused to look at her. He was troubled and disturbed. She stood with his clothing draped over her arm. It felt alien and heavy. How he had survived in these robes she would never know. After he passed out last night, she had literally picked through his clothing, gazing at it, marveling. It was like nothing she had ever seen before. It didn't seem to be from this time. It had spooked her incredibly and she had discarded the garments, afraid to touch them again. She snapped out of her own daze and noticed that he had yet to acknowledge her. Gone was the gentle nature. It had been replaced by stoicism and shock. Was he in the throes of an episode? No. This man isn't insane. He's someone you know. Go to him. Touch him. When you touch him, you'll know. What the fuck? Where had that come from?

"Excuse me," she said, "Your clothes?"

Ardeth looked up at her and an image zapped him, nearly knocking him back with its force. She was naked before him, her body shivering with the fright of a new experience, but one also so very unexpected and sweet. No. I will not. This is wrong. He sought her out and now he must tell her. He fought the image of her, fought the visions. She was to be some type of guide, an aide, but she would not become his lover. She had some tie to Sharîk, but he didn't know what it was. Why had the Gods and Goddesses decided to be so cruel to lead him to a descendent of his lost love? You don't know that, the rational part of his brain stated. Yet, his life and experiences were never rational, never normal. Why did he expect it to be now? He wanted nothing more than to take what she offered him and make his leave. He couldn't. If he left her, some great disaster would befall her. He stood and began to approach her. She expected him to take his things and disappear, but he didn't reach for them. He stood before her and gazed at her. His eyes were lovely but piercing. For a moment, it felt as if he were reading her soul. Oddly, he was inside her mind, touching her brain. Another image came clear and she almost had it, almost knew who he was.

"Leven, we must talk," he began.

She gasped audibly and dropped his things on the floor. How the fuck did he know her name? She had never told him. There was nothing anywhere in the apartment that would give it away. "How the hell did you know my name," she demanded. "Who are you? Who the fuck are you? If you don't start spilling your guts, I'm going to kick your ass!"

He reached out to her as an act of attrition and she stepped back, hooking her feet in the pile of robes she had created on the floor. She fell down hard on her ass. The jolting pain was more of a shock than his knowing her name. She was clearly frightened of him now. He could see it all over her. He took hold of her arm and she struggled to free it, but he held fast. "Please," he said. "I want to help you." She stopped struggling and allowed him to help her to her feet. Her golden eyes were flashing and angry. He watched as she made a wide berth between him and his discarded clothing. She moved like a mortally wounded animal. In fact, the look in her eyes screamed he has me trapped. He didn't make a move toward her. She was terrified of him now, and he felt low for scaring her so badly. "What I have to tell you is not sane. It does not make sense, but you must trust me." She said nothing. She continued to stare at him cautiously. "I am Ardeth Bay and I have come to your world from the past, from 1931. Calling to Isis and Osiris sent me here. I must find the amulet I was wearing when I crossed into your time. It is more of a key. I have to take this key to a great pyramid to close the gateway that brought me here. If I do not succeed, Set will release his minions and destroy my past, your present, and the future. I believe I was sent to you. I think that you are here to help. I know your name because I heard it in a vision I had."

Dear fucking God, he is insane. He's insane and I'm fucking trapped. The solid wall of his body obstructed her escape. It was the oldest trick in the book and she had fallen for it. Why hadn't he freaked out on her last night? Damn it. Her fucking phone was nowhere near where she stood. She decided to take another approach. "Look, dude, I don't know who you are or why you're here, but I'll do whatever you ask as long as you don't hurt me. People know me; they expect me to be at work. Whatever you want to do won't get you anywhere."

"I mean you no harm," he said calmly. He wanted to go to her, but he hesitated. If he were to touch her, she would strike out. If he had been sent to her, it was obvious she was needed to stop the curse. If he couldn't convince her, he would fail. "You must believe me. I have very little time and I believe you are vital for this curse to be lifted." He made a step toward her and she stepped back. Sighing, he stopped.

"Take your shit and get out," she said shakily. "I don't want you here."

Her plea was one he couldn't deny, but he couldn't leave. From the banks of his memory, he heard words whispered to him by this woman. Perhaps if he were to repeat them, she would know he was legitimate. She couldn't send him away. Feeling as if he were tricking her, he sighed sadly and said, "You can't cast out what was meant to be."

Leven completely lost control of her muscles. Her legs felt like nothing more than boneless pieces of flesh. She fell backward, plopping down on the end of the bed, plopping on her already sore ass. However, the bed was much kinder to her backside. She reviewed the cobwebs of her mind as if it were a complex tape recorder. She had heard those words, hadn't she? Where had she heard them? Hadn't they come to her in a dream? Hadn't she uttered them? Dear God. Am I alive? Am I dead? Has he somehow taken my life and I'm on this weird plane between heaven and hell? Is he God or Satan or… Blessed blackness took her down into a deep pit, holding onto her for dear life.

* * *

"MaHbûb, maHbûb malak. IstayqaZa. MaftûH inti 'uyûn." ["Dear, dear angel. Wake up. Open your eyes."]

"Lâ. Mâ byimkinni." ["No. I cannot."]

"Aiwa, mâ lâzim. IstayqaZa. Ana shaHad inti." ["Yes, you must. Wake up. I beg you."]

A small pained moan exited the depths of Leven's throat. She heard the whispered commands, heard herself answering. What more proof did either of them need now? There was still so much she didn't understand. She had no real knowledge that the man was her dream lover, but he had touched her. He had set something off inside her, and she couldn't turn way from it now. The crazed story he told was true. She opened her eyes slowly, feeling her eyelids fluttering weakly. Ardeth had apparently lifted her body and placed her gently onto her bed. He had kneeled beside her and was running his hand through her hair. When he realized she was regaining consciousness, he withdrew and leaned back away from her. She noticed that he had yet to remove the pristine white robe. It contrasted beautifully against his dark skin and hair.

"Oh shit," she moaned. "Oh shitty shit. I am so fired."

She tried to sit up, but Ardeth's hands settled on her shoulders, and he laid her back down. "You can't go, not like this. You have had quite a shock. I think you should stay here."

"You don't understand," she said. "I have to work. I have a job. I can't get fired." She shrugged his hands off her shoulders and sat up. Jesus. She had yet to shower. There was no time. No time for anything.

Determined not to look at him, not to accept what had just happened between them, she stood up and began digging crazily through her closet. Ardeth stood back and watched her. She was trying to deny her fate and it wasn't possible. He could tell her this, but he knew she wouldn't listen. She wanted to go about her daily life as if nothing had changed. "Everything is different now, Leven. If you continue to deny your fate, what you are scurrying after will not matter. You will have no life. No future. Do you understand? I need your help. I need you to stay."

"I don't know what your life is like wherever you came from, but in this world, without a paycheck I can't live. I'll help you, but I have to work."

He gazed at her incredulously. "You still do not believe me?"

She sighed angrily and moved toward a chest near her bed. She flipped open the lid and began to dig around inside it. Impatiently, she threw a button-down shirt and a pair of blue jeans onto the bed. She stood and pointed at the pile of clothing. "I have to survive. To do that, I have to work. I'll help you save the world between shifts. In the meantime, you should put on those clothes I laid out on the bed. You can't go walking around the streets of Memphis wearing that getup over there," she spat, nodding toward his crumpled robes. "You'll have to go with me. That's the only way I can help you."

He nodded. "All right. I will do as you ask."

"Fine," she said huffily before tearing off into the bathroom.

Once the door was closed behind her, she leaned weakly against the door. This couldn't be happening. This couldn't really be happening. But it was.