A/N: I'm back! I'm sorry for the delay, life happened. I also had a lot of trouble writing this chapter - let me know what you think of it. I always love to get comments, especially the things that you liked as well as constructive criticism to help me become a better writer.
The song for this chapter is "death bed (coffee for your head)" by Powfu.
Chapter Twenty-Two - Coffee For Your Head
May
Marc listened through a groggy daze as Dara's phone alarm buzzed on the nightstand beside her.
Blinking a few times to try to dispel the sleepiness in his eyes, Marc realized that he had managed to sleep through the night without having a nightmare. It had happened a few times lately but it still surprised him. He noticed he only managed to avoid the dark dreams when he slept with Dara by his side.
Marc rolled over to look at the lump of blankets that Dara currently nested in. He smiled as he thought of all their shared mornings and her failed attempts to silence her alarm - she usually tried for at least a minute or two. "I'm sure you'll get it first try this time," he said as he propped himself up on one arm to watch her usual wake-up routine.
But she didn't move. The lump of blankets sat suspiciously still through the noisy alarm.
"Did we really tire you out that much last night?" Marc asked as he pulled the blanket away, revealing her peaceful face. But she was too peaceful. Her eyes remained closed and nothing about her implied that she had even heard the alarm go off. "Dara?" Marc asked again, bringing a gentle hand to her cheek. She was warm, and breathing. Why wasn't she waking up? "Dara," Marc insisted with rising fear. He placed a hand on her collarbone and gave a gentle shake.
Only then did she finally stir, her eyes fluttering open before quickly scrunching against the afternoon light. Marc released the breath he didn't realize he was holding.
"You okay? You were sleeping like the dead just now." Marc hated the words as soon as they came out. He hated thinking about her death, and how she might look just as peaceful as when she slept.
"Mmmmm," was all she managed at first as she began her normal flailing to turn off her phone. Marc smiled - at least that hadn't changed. "M'sorry…" She yawned as she wiped at her sleep-crusted eyes. "Didn't realize it was summer already," she murmured sleepily.
Marc frowned as he pulled himself closer, wrapping an arm around her as she continued to stretch herself awake. "What do you mean?"
She finally seemed to dispel the last of her drowsiness as she said, "I've always been more tired in the summer. Ma thinks it's allergies or something," she said as she curled into Marc's arms. He smiled as he adjusted so that he was leaning against the headboard with her resting on his sternum.
"I'm sorry," he said as she made herself comfortable against him. "That sucks."
She shrugged. "It's fine. I'll just have an extra cup of coffee for a few months."
"It is not 'allergies' that ail you." Wind suddenly swept through the apartment as Khonshu appeared at the foot of their bed. Dara yelped in surprise and pulled the covers up so that they covered her and Marc's bare chests.
Marc fixed Khonshu with a cold but curious stare. "What are you talking about?"
The god looked from Marc to Dara, then pointed toward the afternoon Sun outside their window. "Last night was the final time that Sirius will be seen in the sky until its heliacal rising. It will rise as the morning star on the dawn of her thirtieth year."
Dara had gone from shocked to annoyed at Khonshu's presence. "Does he do this a lot? Breaking and entering?"
But Marc was focused on the old bird. "What does Sirius have to do with anything?"
Khonshu fixed his gaze back on the pair. "Just as your power as the Moon Knight wanes with the moon, so, too, does her life force wane with the absence of Sopdet's light." Khonshu was looking at Dara with… Pity? Remorse? Whatever it was, Marc didn't like it. "She will remain afflicted until the night she dies."
A foreboding chill swept through the room and Marc held Dara more firmly in his arms. As if his protection was enough to keep her safe. Every time Khonshu spoke of her demise with such certainty, Marc felt the same sort of panic as he had in that cave with the water rising, when Randall had… This wouldn't be like that. Marc had enough time to do something about it this time. He just didn't know what yet.
Before the ominous silence could stretch much longer, Dara chucked a pillow at Khonshu.
The god was unfazed of course, but the act caused a surprised chuckle to fall from Marc's lips. Khonshu, on the other hand, was not amused. "I am unaffected by your mortal objects." And then she threw a second pillow that similarly ghosted through his spectral form. The old god sighed. "I sense it is time that I depart." And then he disappeared in a gust of wind as quickly as he had arrived.
"And stay out," Dara grumbled as she settled back against Marc. He couldn't help but smile down at her, and she met his gaze with a warm smile of her own. Despite Khonshu's disturbing interruption, Dara maintained her ability to be a ray of sunshine. "He's being dramatic, you know."
Marc chuckled again. "Khonshu? Dramatic? I can't believe it," he said with a deadpan that made Dara laugh.
"I mean it. He's talking like I'm on my deathbed," she said. Although she kept her voice purposefully light, Marc didn't miss the undertone of anxiety. "But it's been this way my whole life. Every summer I'm just a little more tired than usual. I mean, I competed in the Summer Olympics for goodness' sake. It's not like I'm even that bad." Her eyes drifted up to his. "So don't worry about me. I'm fine. I promise."
Marc managed to smile at her, but it didn't reach his heart. He was still filled with worry and dread. But he'd keep a brave face on for Dara. "Okay," he said instead. "Ready to get out of bed then?"
Dara looked back at him with a mischievous grin. "Well, I never said that," she said before yanking the covers over both of their heads and showering his face and chest with feather-light kisses.
"Hey, that tickles," he complained playfully which caused her to giggle like a schoolgirl.
They spent so much time under the covers that Dara barely made it to work on time. But every moment they spent together was more than worth the tardiness.
Dara stifled a yawn as Nicky handed her a cup of steaming hot coffee from the pot he'd just brewed in the Security office.
"Thanks," she said before eagerly gulping down a few sips. She realized too late that the coffee was still hot enough to scald her tongue and throat.
"No problem," he said as he handed one to Reginald, then took a much smaller sip of his own. "Did you go to a party yesterday or something? You seem wiped."
"Nah, just usual-tired," she said casually. And it was true. No matter what the damned undead bird said.
"If you say so," Nicky said with a shrug as he checked his phone. "Ah, Dad's here, I'm gonna go let him in," he said to the pair before practically bouncing out of the office.
"He's really excited," Dara observed with a grin.
"He is," Reginald said. "He gets that way whenever Larry comes to visit at night. I think it reminds him of when he was a child."
Dara nodded before turning her attention to the whiteboard. "Do you really think we'll be able to fit all of these games in tonight?"
Reginald looked at her with a knowing gleam in his eye. "I'm sure we'll manage."
Tonight would be the soccer tournament the night guard team had been planning for weeks. And it was going to be huge - nearly twice as big as the last one. Many residents had watched the previous tournaments and had gotten interested in the sport, which meant most of the museum was involved in some way.
Dara looked over the list of teams again. There were the classics, like Sacagawea and the Explorers, and Attila and the Huns. (Although the Vikings no longer played with them - due to a recent expansion in their exhibit, they now had enough players to form their own team.) Ahk had also agreed to captain the civil war guys again. Dara was glad about that. Hopefully playing would help to keep his mind off of… Well, everything.
And there would be some new teams, too. Joan of Arc captained the team of "Legendary Figures", which included Lancelot and some residents from the mythology exhibit. Dara was particularly interested to see how the merfolk did. And Lancelot was a loyal (if a little overbearing) vice-captain of the team. The residents from the "Haunted Mansion" exhibit had also managed to form a team with their eloquent Mr. Gracey at their head. He was still a more reserved member of the museum family, but so many of his people had been interested that he, being the empathetic leader that he was, couldn't help but try to usher them to victory.
And they'd even invited Larry to be a guest referee alongside Reginald. That had gotten the residents really excited, so Dara was sure that everyone was going to put their best foot forward tonight. They would just barely have enough time for all the games, though, so Dara and Nicky would be on standby to jump in for anyone that needed a substitute.
As she reviewed the list of teams, Reginald asked from her side, "Where did Steven run off to?"
"Oh, he's down in the Archives. He wanted to look into something and McPhee said it was fine," she said, a little unsure if Reginald was comfortable with that. But he accepted it easily.
"That's fine. As long as he's back up for the main event."
Dara laughed. "I made him promise to come up when we make the announcement."
The door clicked open and Nicky was back with Larry in tow. "Hey guys," Larry greeted in his casual (yet somehow endearingly awkward) way.
"Hey Larry, it's great to see you," Dara said genuinely as she abandoned the whiteboard in favor of giving him a hug.
"You've finally stopped calling me 'Professor Daley'," he noted with a satisfied smile.
"Well, I did pass your class. So you're not really my professor anymore."
"True. But I'll be teaching another one next semester if you're interested," he said with a persuasive lift of his eyebrows. "It's called 'Museums and Storytelling: Making History Come Alive'. It's gonna be a real winner."
A fond smile grew on Dara's face. "It sounds wonderful. I'll have to check it out."
They spent a while longer getting the details of the tournament straightened out, then wheeled everything out to the lobby where they set up the temporary court. Just as they finished up, Dara felt the familiar cool wave wash over her, and with it an undeniable relief from the tired fog that had been clinging to her. The magic must help with that, she realized gratefully.
And good thing too, because they had a long night ahead of them. She couldn't wait.
Dara set off at an excited jog to collect all the team captains before the opening match.
Steven swiped a palm through messy hair as he tried to find anything useful in the vast expanse of texts laid out before him.
"I haven't seen mention of these 'Acolytes of the Moon' anywhere," he complained as he shut another book. It produced a spray of dust that caused him to cough and sputter, only making him more irritable.
Jake shrugged from one of the two small mirrors that Steven had perched on the desk. "I didn't say it'd be easy to find. That's just what the guys said when I asked who they worked for."
Steven sighed frustratedly. "But surely one of these books must mention it, especially if it's a group that's still around several bloody millennia after it was founded."
"How do you know it's been around that long?" Marc asked from the other mirror.
Steven raised his shoulders lopsidedly. "Just a hunch."
They'd been at it for hours. Jake and Marc had appointed Steven as their head of fact-finding for this endeavor since he was the most studious of the trio, but he didn't realize how flipping hard it would be to find this group. The "Acolytes of the Moon"...
"And Khonshu didn't know anything?" Steven asked again, and the old god appeared annoyingly on cue. (And, in the process, scattered Steven's already haphazard papers across the desk. Great.)
"I am not familiar with them," Khonshu confirmed.
"Well, why bloody not? Given their name, they're bound to be worshipping you after all."
Khonshu fixed Steven with an unfeeling stare. "If I had acknowledged every individual or group that worshipped me, I would have had no time to attend to more important matters."
Steven rolled his eyes. "Full of yourself, aren't you?" He murmured.
Khonshu did not acknowledge the jab and instead disappeared in a puff of brisk air. Which sent the papers flapping around. Again. Steven let his forehead slump soundlessly against the desk.
"We're getting nowhere," he said to his brothers.
"It's only been a few days. We'll get there, kid," Marc promised. Steven fought against the urge to point out that they weren't doing any of the reading, so they couldn't realize how sodding impossible this task would be.
"What about the pharaoh?" Jake asked.
Steven raised his head just enough to furrow a confused brow at Jake. "Pardon?"
"The pharaoh. Why don't we ask him?"
Why hadn't Steven thought of that? It was so simple. They had an absolute wealth of a primary source walking around, and he was practically a captive audience since he couldn't leave the museum. "Jake, you're brilliant," Steven decided. "I could kiss you."
"I'm glad you can't," Jake noted with a mixed look of disgust and embarrassment.
But Marc looked less certain. "We're not exactly on his good side. I'm not sure he'll want to help us."
"He might not help us, but he will help Dara," Steven pointed out, and he was absolutely sure that he was right on this. And from Marc's middle-distance stare and curt nod, Steven guessed that he agreed.
The announcement system suddenly crackled to life as Professor Daley's voice filled the room. "Hey, guys! It's Larry. I'm here tonight because I heard you've got something special planned." Steven smiled - he was glad that the kind professor had made a full recovery after his heart attack and was now back to his lively self. "So I decided to stop by. So you know what that means..." Larry paused for dramatic effect, and Steven swore he could hear someone slapping a hard surface in the background to mimic the sound of a drumroll. "Let's get ready to RUMBLEEEE!"
Rallying cries from throughout the museum made their way through the PA system and even through the thick doors of the Archives themselves. It sounded like the tournament was just about to get started.
"Right," Steven said as he shoved himself away from the table. "I promised Dara we'd make our way up. Maybe we can catch Ahkmenrah, too."
His brothers nodded. Steven grabbed the reflective handheld mirrors (which they now used to ensure communication was easy in any location) and shoved them in his jacket pocket. He also gave a quick attempt at tidying the papers and books so that the daytime archivist wouldn't be too cross with him, but he decided to leave most of it undisturbed for fear of losing his place when he returned.
As soon as he opened the door to the Archives he could feel the anticipation of the residents as they raced past him toward the lobby.
The whistle rang out across the lobby and Ahkmenrah felt a triumphant swell of pride.
His team, the civil war mannequins, had performed admirably - they had managed to win a close game against the residents of the "Haunted Mansion" exhibit. The pharaoh wiped the collected sweat from his bow before offering Mister Gracey his hand in a show of sportsmanship. "Well done," he praised. "You and your house played as well as professionals. You nearly had us at the end."
Mister Gracey took his hand with the grace of a practiced politician, but the man's wide smile betrayed his genuine delight. "Thank you. You led your team like a general into battle. We will have to practice before facing you again." Ahkmenrah returned the smile and dipped his head in grateful acknowledgment of the compliment. It was a joy to see Mister Gracey smiling - it was a rare sight, and one that seemed to spread contagiously to everyone that witnessed it. The collected museum audience broke out into cheers to celebrate the two teams as they retreated from the makeshift field.
As Ahk left the field, Dara raised her hand in the universal request for a "high five." He met it gladly and was graced with her pleased smile. "You did great, as always," she noted. "You must've been an athlete in a past life."
Ahkmenrah couldn't help but laugh. "That is high praise coming from the former Olympian," he said, although he immediately wanted to shove his foot in his mouth. It was insensitive for him to bring up her past so lightly.
But she surprised him with a sly grin. "Don't get too excited yet. You've still got a lot of stiff competition tonight."
Steven peered around from Dara's other side. "How do you think the merpeople will fair?" He leaned in conspiratorially and added, "I'll be honest, I've no idea how they'll pull it off. I'm quite curious."
They didn't have to wait long, since Joan of Arc's team of Legendary Figures was up next against Sacagawea's Explorers. To the crowd's surprise, the merfolk played skillfully, sliding around as if the floor was oiled. The team's goalie was the merman with the largest tail fin, and it was nigh impossible to get a ball past him.
But try as they might, they were still no match for Sacagawea and her rag-tag team of frontiermen. Teddy and Sacagawea played in tandem, never a step out of sync, and the other explorers seemed to understand and adapt to their calculating playstyle. They read the field like a map and managed to eek several balls through, albeit barely. (It also helped that Columbus was their defender, and no one was able to just use brute force to get past him - he was likely the heaviest player in the tournament due to his metallic innards.)
So the match ended with the teams meeting amicably in the middle, Sacagawea and Joan sharing a good-natured handshake. Teddy extended the same to Lancelot, and the knight returned in kind, although he seemed begrudged and mumbled something about couples being banned from playing together.
With the much-anticipated match over, Ahk's team was back in play. "Alright," Larry announced as Ahk stood and stretched his now-cold muscles. "Up next we have Ahk and the Civil War Dummies- People! I meant people. The Civil War, uh, people... Sorry." He winced and threw an apologetic glance over at the mannequins, who just waved it off. "And they'll be going up against Attila and the Huns."
That was Attila's cue to let out a raging war cry, which was quickly matched by his men. They raced to the field. Ahk led his charges to the field as well and shared a strong-fisted shake with Attila before the match started. They moved into their places and the whistle blew to announce the beginning of play.
Ahk immediately darted for the ball, swiping it expertly from Attila's foot that stomped heavily mere toe-lengths from the Pharaoh's bare feet. Ahk and his men were no strangers to Attila's strong-arm tactics - the man was relentless and was not above playing dirty to secure his victory.
And that was no different this game - before two minutes had passed, one of the Huns had tackled one of the soldiers of the North and ripped the cloth man clean in half.
"Subutai!" Larry called the attacking Hun's name angrily, and the warrior raised his hands in mock innocence. "Uh-uh, we all saw that. That's a penalty for your team. You're benched." The Hun dipped his chin to his chest in disappointment and started walking off the field, but not before grabbing the two halves of the Northern soldier. "Get him fixed up and then you can join back in," Larry told the Hun with a pat on the back. Ahk smiled at Larry's natural fatherly tendencies toward the museum inhabitants.
Ahk gave a respectful bow to his injured player, who saluted in return. The soldiers were nothing if not loyal. "Larry, could we ask for a sub to replace him for the time being?"
Larry nodded. "Yup." The man locked eyes with Nicky before nodding toward the field. "You're up."
Nicky popped up energetically and clapped as he jogged to Ahk's side. "Just like old times, eh?" Nicky asked as he moved to replace the fallen soldier's position.
The pharaoh smiled at him fondly. "Indeed." Ahk could not even guess how many times he and Nicky had played together in Nicky's youth. As the whistle sounded to resume play, it was clear that they had played together enough to be just as in sync as Sacagawea and Teddy, if not more. The two danced effortlessly around the Huns, passing the balls between them easily as the battle-hardened warriors stumbled to keep up.
Attila growled angrily when Ahkmenrah slipped the ball through the Hun's legs as easily as a summer breeze through the reeds. "You!" Attila barked in his native tongue as he pointed to one of his men. "Stop this cocky king!" The man responded with a blood-curdling war cry as he launched toward Ahkmenrah.
And in that moment Ahk was infinitely grateful that he had learned their language because it was just enough warning for him to duck.
The man sailed above Ahk's head with enough speed that the wind ruffled the young king's hair. The war cry quickly turned into a yelp of surprise, and then a jumble of pained noises as the man crashed into one of his own teammates. When Ahk arose, he saw that the two men had fallen into a tangled, dazed heap on the floor. They were clearly unable to continue to play.
"Hold it!" Larry called as Reginald blew the whistle, both seeming to come to the same conclusion. "Attila, get your guys off the field. They need a break." Attila yelled in frustration as a response before roughly grabbing both of his men by their feet and dragging them to the side of the field. Larry looked at Dara and said, "Guess you're up."
Dara nodded and shot a look of sympathy toward the unconscious warriors. "But that still leaves us down one," she noted.
"Hmm..." Larry's brow creased as he thought about the conundrum. But a voice chimed in before he could ponder it too long.
"I'll play," Steven said as he stood from the bench. Or... Was it Steven? Ahk noted with some surprise that the man's accent was gone. His voice seemed more gruff than usual. "I'm always up for a game of fútbol."
"Jake." Dara's voice was sharp. A warning. "Steven has already said that he didn't want to play." Ahk looked at the man that Dara now called "Jake". So this is one of his... alters? Ahkmenrah thought. The man certainly held himself differently than Steven. If Steven was a timid mouse, Jake was a scrappy street cat.
Jake shrugged. "He changed his mind," the man hedged.
But then Steven's English-accented voice cried out, "I abso-bloody-lutely did not!" Ahk wasn't the only one surprised by the sudden switch. Nicky and Larry, as well as several of the players and spectators, had wide eyes and open jaws. But Steven continued regardless of the curious stares he was receiving. "Last time Attila tackled me and I could hardly stand comfortably for three days!"
Steven's body suddenly relaxed and shrugged languidly. Or... Was this Jake now? Ahk had trouble keeping up with the sudden changes. "Hermano, you've no need to worry. We'll be on Attila's team. There's no danger if he's on our side."
But Steven was clearly back and fuming with barely-contained outrage. "Two of his players just tackled each other so hard that they knocked each other out!"
When the man's body relaxed and gave a knowing smirk, Ahk could only assume it was Jake again. "And you want to let Dara play on that team alone? Some boyfriend you are..."
Steven's stiff posture revealed that Jake had hit him at a weak point in his armor. He threw up his hands in defeat. "Fine! Fine. But don't expect any help from me," he grumbled. And then Jake's relaxed posture returned as he threw Dara a coy smile.
"See? The kid is in," he said with the innocence of a child with their hand stuck in a jar of sweets.
Dara rolled her eyes but gave him a playful smile in return. "Fine. You're on offense with me."
And that is how Nicky and Ahkmenrah came to play opposite Dara and Jake.
The whistle rang out and Ahkmenrah was the first to the ball, but he was quickly shoved out of the way by Jake. Ahk grunted in surprise as he was pushed into Nicky.
"Jake," Dara warned again.
"What? I'm just playing how our Captain would want us to play," he yelled back. Attila gave an affirmative shout of approval. Dara raced to his side and soon the two were passing the ball between themselves as they made their way toward Ahkmenrah's goalie. Jake had no qualms with well-placed elbows to aid his defense, although he generally avoided being as rough as the Huns. And Dara, for her part, kept herself open so that he had somewhere to pass if he could not force his way through. The two worked in surprisingly harmonious tandem and both were grinning ear-to-ear from the fiery passion of their competitive spirits.
But they were no match for Ahk and Nicky's teamwork and expertise - Nicky snatched the ball and had soon passed it to Ahkmenrah to take it to the other side of the field.
The pharaoh made it nearly to the opposing goal when Dara, ever the speed Queen, dashed in front of him to halt his approach. While he was distracted with her, Jake plucked the ball from beneath him with the skill of a practiced thief.
But the pair were surrounded - Ahkmenrah's loyal team of faceless mannequins had raced to aid their captain. Jake growled in frustration. Then he chuckled mischievously - Ahkmenrah felt an anxious knot form in his stomach at the sound.
"Well, guess you're up kid!" And suddenly Jake's impish smirk changed into a face of utter terror.
"Jake, you bloody bastard! I was a fool for agreeing to this-" Steven's declaration was caught off with a yelp as the Englishman dodged one of the incoming mannequins. And then they all barreled toward him at once, trying to claim the ball for themselves. The Huns joined in the fray until Steven and the others were surrounded by a cacophonous symphony of bodies crashing into each other to fight for possession of the ball.
Against all odds, Steven dodged and stumbled his way through the onslaught with the ball barely contained between his feet. He turned wildly until Dara caught his attention with a shout. "Steven, this way!" And so Steven somehow navigated toward Dara's voice while slipping through the worst of the carnage untouched. Ahkmenrah followed but had trouble keeping up. How did he manage to evade them so effortlessly? But Ahk amended his thought when he caught sight of Steven's ragged breathing and the sweat on his brow. It was not without effort - it was with a great deal of skill that Steven avoided the conflict.
When Steven popped out on the other side, Dara was there to greet him with a bright smile. Steven returned it readily - Ahk wondered if he had started to have fun after all, or if he was just relieved to see her. Ahk suspected it was a mix of both.
The pair made their way toward Ahkmenrah's goalie - the crowd of Civil War mannequins and Huns had not noticed that the ball had escaped them, so there was no one defending. Ahkmenrah cursed himself inwardly for being so careless.
But then Nicky launched in front of Steven to save the day. "Hi Steven," he greeted cheerily as he moved a deft foot toward the ball.
Steven protected the ball easily, routing it around Nicky's lunge and back to safety.
Ahk paused - how had he done that? Just a moment ago Steven had struggled to even keep the ball between his feet, but now he moved it as naturally as an extension of his leg.
"Marc!" Dara called excitedly. "Don't let them get the ball!"
The man that Ahk now recognized as Marc Spector met Dara's excitement with a brisk nod as he started to extricate himself from Nicky.
But Ahk had no intention of letting the ball stay under enemy occupation. The pharaoh slid behind Marc and swiped the ball quickly. Marc, with just a glance over his shoulder, managed to kick his leg out behind and stop the ball from going further. Marc managed to turn around to face Ahk and the two began a struggle for control of the ball.
"You have some practice with this," Ahk admitted reluctantly as their dance caused beads of sweat to roll onto his brow.
"You're not bad, either. For a mummy," Marc offered with a strained breath.
Ahk grunted in annoyance as they both tugged unsuccessfully against the ball. Their struggle continued for a few seconds longer before Marc sighed.
"Alright, get ready," he murmured. Ahk raised a confused brow - it was as if Marc had just finished a conversation with someone, but Ahk was sure that no one had said anything.
Marc did something unexpected - he looped his foot under the ball so that it launched straight into the air. As it reached its peak, Marc's mouth turned from a determined line to a wicked grin.
"Jake, over here!" Dara's call echoed across the room as all eyes turned to the ball in the air.
Jake? Ahk wondered as he turned to the man with the now-impish eyes. How does she know so quickly?
Suddenly Jake's hands were on Ahk's shoulders. Before Ahk could react, Jake pushed down on Ahk to launch himself into the air. He twisted and head-butted the ball in Dara's direction.
When Jake landed, he smirked at Ahk and said, "Gracias, mi amigo!" Then he leaped into a run to join Dara.
But frankly, no one could catch Dara - once she had the ball, she sprinted toward Ahk's goal. She reeled back and hit the ball with a mighty kick. The projectile swept past the goalie and into the net in the same length of time it took Ahk to release a defeated huff.
The crowd erupted into cheers. Dara burst into a fit of happy laughter, and suddenly Ahk's momentary defeat turned into a victory. He was never at a loss as long as she was happy.
Jake turned to face the crowd and gave a dramatic bow from the waist.
The game continued in much the same way - Steven, Marc, and Jake would all take turns playing which kept Ahk's team annoyingly on their toes. Dara, though, seemed to mesh with each man instantly and completely, without any hesitation about who she was playing with. It was such an incredible advantage that, in the end, Attila's team managed to achieve victory.
The teams met in the middle of the field to share handshakes as the crowd clapped appreciatively. Jake reached his hand out to Nicky and Ahk in turn and said, "You both played well. Just not as well as us, of course." He added a wink to deepen the wound.
"You cocky bastard," Nicky said through a laugh as he returned the handshake roughly.
"I think you meant handsome cocky bastard." That earned a light elbow from Dara, but she was grinning playfully.
Larry called the next teams to the field, and before long Dara and Nicky were called in as subs again. Ahk and Marc, the latter of whom was surprisingly making several appearances this night, sat together in silence.
Until Marc broke it. "…We need your help."
Ahk was intrigued. Marc had hardly spoken to him at all since the revelation in the Egyptian exhibit. The two had maintained a somewhat tense relationship since then. "With what?"
Marc leaned forward so his elbows rested on his knees. His expression darkened as he said, "The guys that hurt Dara. They were from a group called 'The Acolytes of the Moon' or something like that. Heard of 'em?"
Ahkmenrah blinked as he searched the depth of his memory and translated the modern meaning to its ancient Egyptian counterpart. And then it came to him suddenly, like a hot desert wind. "I have." Marc turned his head to fix the pharaoh with a look mixed of trepidation and hope. "If they are the same group as I knew in my lifetime, then…" Ahk shook his head.
"If they're the same group then what?" Mark would not let Ahk get by without explaining.
Ahk just shook his head. "It is not possible."
"Why?"
"They were led by our High Priest, Isidorus. The group surely would have disbanded upon his death."
Marc's stare challenged Ahkmenrah's. "Are you sure?"
And suddenly Ahk was not as sure as he thought. But why would the priest's group behave so savagely? Isidorus was always peaceful and kind. The Acolytes of the Moon were meant to serve Khonshu and to promote His will to protect the travelers of the night. Surely Isidorus would not have directed them to pass such hate down through generations.
Unable to come to a conclusion, Ahk decided, "I will aid you in your search for knowledge." Ahk tore his gaze from Marc, the man that he still felt an unexplainable rivalry toward. "For Dara," he clarified.
"For Dara," Marc confirmed.
The two returned to their amicable silence as they watched the remainder of the tournament.
