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“Lauren, dear.” Dr. Fatima Badr opened the door, reaching for her as soon as she saw her. “Welcome. Come in. Come in. How are you, dear?”
The older woman rattled when she moved. Dozens of gold bracelets lined her arms. She embraced Lauren, hugging her firmly. She always smelled of frankincense and patchouli. It made Lauren’s stomach churn. She backed away quickly. “Dr. Badr.” She hadn’t known the woman all that long, but Rowan’s professor had taken a liking to his family. She was extremely affectionate, and always hugged, touched, or rubbed everyone within arm’s reach of her. Lauren didn’t mind much, usually, but lately she was extremely sensitive to being touched. She wasn’t sure why but her whole body ached from recent waves of nausea that had taken over her life. She’d never been sick with Henry or John Carter.
“Don’t be ridiculous, dear. You know you may call me Tima.” She patted Lauren’s cheek, then bent over to pick up John Carter, hugging the toddler fiercely. Henry waited patiently for his turn. “How are the sweetest boys today?”
“Wearing me out, if truth be told,” Lauren groused. “Have you talked to Rowan this afternoon?”
“You know his class went out with Dr. Aziz on a dig, right?” She carried John Carter into the living room and sat down so she could hold Henry, too. Lauren followed and took a seat, unbidden. “They probably won’t be back until late. Didn’t he tell you?”
“He told me he’d be home for dinner,” Lauren said.
Tima glanced at the clock and smiled. “He must have meant Egyptian dinner, Lauren, dear.”
Lauren sank back in her chair. “Oh.” She deflated. “I’ll never get used to eating so late.”
“Are you hungry? I can make you a snack.”
“I am. I’m hungry,” Henry said brightly.
“Me too,” John Carter chirped.
“Auntie Tima will make you a snack. Would you like a ful sandwich?” A mischievous smile crossed her face. Both the boys recoiled. “Maybe some hummus or some kibbeh?” Henry’s face lit up. John Carter looked to his brother, then reacted similarly. “I’ll make both.” She kissed each of them on the cheek before she sat them down. “Lauren, dear?”
She looked up. “Sure.” She rose and fell in behind her husband’s professor.
In the kitchen the two women went to work while the boys went to find one of Tima’s daughters to play with. Tima set out everything to make a’aish baladi. It was the first thing Tima had taught Lauren to make after they moved here. The recipe made a simple bread. Lauren had it down pat. She measured out the whole-meal and all-purpose flours, then added a portion of dried yeast. She tossed in a generous pinch of salt and a drizzle of olive oil. Lauren mixed it by hand in a flat wooden bowl while Tima started on the other dishes.
Kneading dough was cathartic, Lauren decided. She thought about making this bread while out camping, trying to decide if she could bake it in a cast iron skillet or griddle, maybe even on the grill. She missed camping. She missed pine forests and aspen trees; she missed mountains. Egypt was hot, arid, and crowded. But the people were lovely, and generous. She smiled, glancing at Tima as she started cutting lemons and chopping herbs. The fragrance of the citrus blended with mint was comforting and it seemed to settle Lauren’s stomach.
Working the dough took Lauren’s mind off Rowan. She wasn’t even sure why she was worried. Over the past year, he’d gone on numerous digs with his professors and classmates. Soon, he would have his master’s degree and then, they’d re-evaluate their future. The hiatus had been good for their family. It was growing much faster than she’d ever expected, and Rowan was a straight A student.
Lauren had busied herself with caring for two little boys under the age of five, but she’d also been reading everything she could get her hands on, in any language she could find. She needed some form of occupation to keep her sanity. It wasn’t that she didn’t like being a wife and a mother. She loved it. She just felt a need to use her own education, and the gift given to her by the ancient gods, to the fullest of her ability. After her experiences working with her brother, Michael, several years before, they had gone on to put together an amazing season for the Escape Channel that allowed them to research not just Rowan’s family tree, but several other members of the team, and even a few of the Escape Channel stars.
John Carter had been born during that time, while they were working in Virginia. Lauren had decided she needed a break. About that same time, Rowan got his acceptance letter from the University of Cairo.
After first contact with the alien race, Michael’s girlfriend, Dr. Kitty Donovan, had gone on to facilitate a major peace treaty, even as the worlds’ governments denied or remained silent on the topic of extraterrestrial life. The United States Government had declassified some of the records on unidentified aerial phenomena. It had been a nine page report that came down to little more than a statement saying, “We don’t know what we don’t know.” Lauren could have written tomes on what she knew about extraterrestrial life, but as usual, it was a secret she couldn’t tell.
Kitty’s job wasn’t easy. In some regions, like South Korea, the peace that had been brokered was tentative at best. Middle Eastern Countries had been the most affected. Taking advantage of the improved relations in the Middle East, the Pierce family had packed up and moved to Egypt to be closer to Rowan while he worked on his education.
The Network had been less than pleased when the Pierces didn’t renew their long-time contract. Rowan assured them they needed to take a temporary break, and the additional education would give him better insight into some of the mysteries they wanted to research next.
Henry was almost old enough to start school, but with two studious parents, he’d been homeschooled, practically since he was born. Having a biological anthropologist for a mother, and a soon-to-be archaeologist as a father, the boy would have been out of place in a traditional school setting. He was already reading books at the fourth grade level and was excelling in math. He loved history and geography too. John Carter hadn’t been left out of the studies around the kitchen table. Though he wouldn’t turn three until spring, he already knew his ABCs and could count to fifty without help. He was just learning to read and knew a few easy words.
Lauren used this respite for her own personal edification too. At Tima’s insistence, over the past year she’d read everything she could get her hands on in Latin, Greek, Hebrew, Egyptian, Farsi; anything to challenge her abilities and hone her skills. Tima had been impressed with her knack for languages and encouraged her to continue her education with another degree in ancient languages. She’d seriously considered taking classes herself, but between raising two boys and Rowan’s busy schedule, she’d convinced herself there was no way she could make it work.
Of course, the dire warning of a coming galactic war, and the need to prepare had not gone forgotten. Lauren’s reading of early tomes spanned the entire breadth of ancient Sumerian history before she moved on to apocryphal texts from the Dead Sea scrolls and beyond. She didn’t know what she was looking for, but the thirst for knowledge was all-consuming. She knew when the time came, she’d have found wisdom in those ancient writings that would serve her well.
“What do you think about coming to lecture at the college some time?” Tima asked.
Lauren looked at her blankly. Sometimes she wondered if Tima had gifts of her own. She seemed to read her mind and usually knew what Lauren needed. She seemed to know of Lauren’s pregnancy, even before Lauren suspected it herself.
Tima was the best friend Lauren could have in Egypt. Without Bahati, Egypt was a lonely place. Tima made it somewhat better, but she missed her long-time friends and co-workers. Their sudden departure from The Veritas Codex hadn’t been without drama. Feelings had been hurt.
Bahati and Jean-René had returned to San Diego where Network was keeping them busy. Jean-René was doing freelance photography, taking jobs as they came. As a result, he’d been nominated for a dozen or more awards for some of his photos that had been published in National Geographic. He’d earned several cover spots and as his credentials grew, so did his price tag.
Bahati’s daughter had been born just a week before John Carter. Now, Bahati was writing and doing research for other shows, when and if she wanted to. Lauren had been heartbroken by how their decision had impacted the Toussaints. The Network hadn’t been happy about their sudden departure, and as a result, had cancelled their contracts; all of them, including the contract Rowan had negotiated for Jean-René and Bahati. It had been a slap in the face, but when a competing network got wind of the turn of events, and began pursuing the couple, the Network circled back around and made them a decent offer, and a bidding war broke out. Last Lauren heard negotiations were still underway. It had been a strange turn of events when she heard the hot-headed Bahati was prepared to walk away from the Network altogether; but Jean-René was still trying to get Jacob to reconsider.
“Lauren?” Tima nudged her as she moved past her to get the chickpeas from the pantry.
“That might be nice,” Lauren said, still working the dough under the heel of her hand.
“I think that’s probably enough,” Tima said. She put her hand on Lauren’s arm and slid the bowl of dough out from under her. Lauren let go of it, realizing the dough would go tough if she continued. “Are you troubled, dear?”
“No,” Lauren said. “Yes. Maybe.”
“Well, which is it, Lauren, dear?”
“I’m not sure what it is,” she wiped the flour from her fingers.
“Tell me,” Tima said.
“It’s nothing.” She started cleaning up her mess. She’d gotten flour all over the counter and the front of her black t-shirt. “Maybe it’s just being ...” she glanced down at John Carter as he ran through the room with a rocket over his head. He made sound effects as he ran on down the hall. “You know.”
“Maybe.” Tima knew what she meant. She handed Lauren a can of garbanzo beans to open and drain. “Save some of the aqua fava.”
“Aqua fava? Bean water?” Lauren scowled.
“Yes, when you drain the beans, save some of the water. The starch will help smooth out the hummus.”
Lauren nodded and did as instructed. Tima took out the food processor and set it up. Soon, the tantalizing bouquet of baking bread and spices filled the home. The children came to the table and were waiting for the bread to come out of the tagine. They could barely wait for it to cool enough to tear off pieces and dip them into the spread. Lauren realized she was starving too. She made a plate for herself, including a few kibbeh, which were fried patties of bulgur wheat stuffed with minced lamb and pine nuts.
“What are you reading now, Lauren, dear?” Tima asked when the women sat down to eat at the kitchen table. The children sat on stools at the high counter, feasting on their Auntie Tima’s cooking.
“Huh?” Lauren was caught yawning as she ran a piece of bread through the bowl of hummus beside her plate. “Oh, I started the Curse of Agade this morning before the boys woke up.”
Tima considered her for a moment. “Have you been sleeping well, dear?”
“Huh? Why do you ask?”
“You’ve been yawning since you got here.” Tima observed. “And, if I may be so bold, you look exhausted.”
“The curses of being ... you know.” Lauren leaned back in her chair. She felt as tired as she thought she looked. “I’ve been having bizarre dreams.”
Tima gazed into her eyes sympathetically. “Sweet girl,” she reached forward and ran her hand along Lauren’s cheek. “Hormones will do that, you know.” She lowered her voice.
“I have heard that,” Lauren said. She didn’t want to share details of the bizarre dream with Tima. She couldn’t even tell Rowan.
She’d dreamt of the godchild she’d found in Peru so many years ago. But it wasn’t a vision of the headless corpse that had been abandoned deep within a cavern. These dreams showed the life of the alien being among the people of the region before it had been killed; before the gods had punished them for its death. She had a vivid image of what the child might have looked like, before the ancient men took its head. It reminded her of a smaller version of the alien being she’d met working with Michael. But this was just a dream—a disturbing one—but still, just a dream.
“Why don’t you let the boys stay with me over the weekend?” Tima said, bringing her back to the moment. “Shemi and I will spoil them and take them to the museum or the park. You need to rest. I know what it’s like to chase a two- and four-year-old around.”
“Damn near impossible to rest.” Lauren yawned again.
“You need to take care of yourself, dear. Finish your food. I will pack a meal for you to take to Rowan. He will be hungry when he comes home. You should take a warm bath and go to bed early.”
Lauren hesitated to say yes. It seemed too great of a favor. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”
“Please. I miss having the giggles of little ones in the house,” she said. “Until my older children make me a grandmother, I will be content to be khala to your boys ... if you will permit me.”
Khala ... aunt. Tima was the closest thing they had to family in Egypt. Why not? Lauren glanced over at the boys who’d stopped what they were doing in anticipation of their mother’s answer. “Do you want to stay here with Khala Tima and the girls this weekend?”
“I do,” Henry said. “I do!”
“Me too,” John Carter added.
“Is that all you can say, John Carter?” Tima asked.
“Uh huh.” The dark-haired boy stuck a piece of bread in his mouth, clearly enjoying the meal.
“Can we, Momma?” Henry asked.
“Will you behave yourself?” Lauren asked. “And will you keep an eye on your little brother?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said.
Lauren looked back to Tima. Expectation and excitement was written on the woman’s round face. “Okay,” she said, resigning herself. Lauren knew Tima was right, but she hated to admit she needed help. “But only if you’re sure it’s no trouble. And only if you’ll promise to call if they’ve outstayed their welcome.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Lauren, dear.” Tima laughed. “They are wonderful boys.”
“Thank you, Tima.”
“Think nothing of it, sweet girl.” Tima beamed. “It’s nothing at all.”
* * *
Rowan hadn’t expected to find Lauren asleep on the sofa when he crept into the house much later than he’d intended. She stirred, then startled awake. “You’re home ...”
“Sorry I didn’t call. The battery on my phone died.” He came over and pulled her into his arms. “And our truck broke down.”
“Are you sunburnt?” He was sure she could feel the heat radiating off of his arms. He’d had his hat on while they’d milled around waiting for the air monitoring equipment to arrive. He’d put sunscreen on, but it hadn’t survived the day. It was the curse of his Anglo-Saxon heritage; his kryptonite.
“Yeah.” He winced at her touch on his forearm. “Just a little.”
“Let me get the Maui Vera.” She started for the stairs. He caught her hand and pulled her back into him. Rowan enveloped her in his arms. She melted into him, even though he smelled of sweat, sand and ancient mysteries. “Find anything good?”
“The burial of a Priestess of Seshat,” he said, with exhausted exuberance. “The canopic jars were even intact.” He sighed as she rested her head on his shoulder. “I got video of the hieroglyphs for you to look at later.”
“Lucky you,” she said. “And lucky me. I look forward to seeing them.”
“I about got kicked out of the archeology program today.”
“What? Tima wouldn’t let that happen.” She leaned back.
“It’s a long story, and I’m too tired to tell it tonight.”
“It can wait ‘til tomorrow.”
“I take it the boys are asleep?”
“The boys are at Tima’s,” she said, as his hands moved lower down her back.
“Oh really?”
“I was so tired I could barely get through the evening. She offered to keep them over the weekend.”
“Still tired?”
“Exhausted,” she said, lifting a brow. He had something in mind, she could tell.
“Well then,” Rowan said. “Let’s get you tucked in.”
“How about a shower first?”
“Capital idea, my dear.”
* * *
Lauren was kneeling with her head over the toilet when Rowan found her the next morning. “Again?” He knelt beside her, pulling her braid back out of the way. Her hair had grown so long. It almost came to her knees, even when braided.
She gagged again. Her whole body tensed as she barfed. Rowan winced and reached over for a washcloth. He ran cool water and soaked it. He wrung it out and pressed it to the base of her skull. She reached up and toggled to flush the toilet, then sat back on her heels. “Ugh.” She groaned as he mopped her face. “I was never sick like this with either of the boys,” she added.
“Go back to bed. I’ll get you some tea and crackers.”
Lauren held out her arm so he could help her up. She barely took three steps before she turned abruptly and puked again. “God, this sucks,” she gasped, turning to the sink. She flipped on the water and collected a hand full of it, bringing it to her lips. She swished it then spit.
“Think you need to see the doctor?” Rowan asked.
She shook her head. “No.” She curled up and he pulled the cool white sheet up over her shoulders. “I don’t think so. I ate too much at Tima’s last night.”
“Well, rest and I’ll be right back to check on you.”
* * *
It was noon before she was able to get out of bed. Lauren dragged herself downstairs looking for her husband. The house was empty. She went to the kitchen, knowing it was a futile endeavor. Even if she could eat something, it probably wouldn’t stay with her long. Looking around, she had the distinct impression something was wrong, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. Then she realized, the coffee pot was missing. She turned and went to the door and opened it. Lauren found him sitting at the table in their gated patio, which served as the entrance to their home. It was the only outdoor space they had in the multi-family housing unit they rented in the heart of the city. Lauren was a patient gardener and planted the decorative pots with colorful flowers; a palm tree in a large container provided greenery. The gurgling fountain on the wall, cooled the entire space.
Rowan had half a pot of coffee, an empty cup, and a stack of textbooks on the table beside him. He looked up when she came out. “Feeling better?”
“Eh,” Lauren said as she shrugged. “Isn’t it a little hot out here?”
“It wasn’t when I started,” he said. “I was afraid the smell of the coffee would trigger your morning sickness.”
“I think I’m okay. Why don’t you come back inside?” Lauren suggested. “Did you find the leftovers Tima sent home with me?”
“I had them last night after you fell asleep,” Rowan said, gathering up the coffee pot and his dishes. She collected his books. He followed her into the house. “Have you eaten?”
“Ugh.” Lauren rolled her eyes as she set his books on the bar. “I may never eat again.”
“You need to eat,” he said, his voice heavy with concern. “Maybe some toast?”
“Maybe.”
She started to go back to the patio to get his laptop and the rest of his things, but as she reached for the doorknob, a knock nearly made her jump from her skin. She opened the door.
A tall man with distinct vampiric features greeted her. “I’m looking for Dr. Pierce,” the man said in a thick Slavic accent.
“I’m Dr. Pierce,” she said, swallowing hard. “How may I help you?”
Rowan came up behind her. “What’s up?”
“Dr. Pierce, my name is Dr. Masa. I am from the Antiquities Department at the Museum at the University in Prague.” He nodded politely. His accent matched his appearance; his voice rich and melodious. Bela Lugosi had nothing on this guy. His hair was as black as his coat and his skin as white as his teeth. Lauren caught herself looking to see if he had fangs. He didn’t. “Please forgive the intrusion. You are not an easy woman to track down. I have been looking for you everywhere.”
“You found me,” Lauren said impatiently.
“How can we help you?” Rowan moved closer behind her. His hand went around her waist protectively.
“Dr. Pierce, have you ever heard of the Codex Gigas?” he asked.
“The Devil’s Bible?” She recoiled.
“Yes,” he said.
Lauren swallowed hard. The hair on her arms stood on end. “I’ve heard of it.”
“You have heard the legends of how the Codex was created, yes?”
“I vaguely recall something about it,” she said. The Devil’s Codex was allegedly written in one night by a monk who’d been condemned to be walled up and forgotten. He prayed, not to God, but to the Devil to help him finish a book containing all of mankind’s knowledge in one night. As a thanks to Lucifer for his aid, a full page sketch of the Devil had been included in the grand grimoire. “I hate to be blunt, but if there’s a purpose for your visit, I do wish you’d get to it.”
He reached into his satchel and produced an 8x10 glossy. “Some months ago, a man came into our museum and presented himself as a retired police detective who had come into the possession of the document. He said the artifact had been evidence in a murder case, the murder of his partner. He wanted to get rid of it, saying it was cursed. He feared it was placing him in great risk to keep it, that it needed to be protected from dark forces. He begged us to take it. We received it but had no reason to believe the man’s claim. We never even asked his name. After several months of study, we have reason to believe the page may be lost from the Codex Gigas. There’s only two things we haven’t been able to comprehend.”
“What’s that?” Rowan asked before Lauren could.
“Firstly, there is a section that had been added into the margins in a font we do not recognize. The language is something we haven’t been able to identify. The original Codex Gigas was written entirely in Latin, so this initially made us question its authenticity,” Masa said. “Secondly, Dr. Pierce,” he addressed her directly. “We are at a loss as to why or how your name was inscribed onto a page from one of the most significant books in the history of the world.”