Alek’s hand on my thigh woke me up to some delicious thoughts. I eased around, letting his hand travel across my body, coming to rest on my stomach, and stared at him. Damn, he was a beautiful man. His dark hair lay fanned across his pillow; his thick, long lashes rested on his lower lids, creating a small shadow underneath them. And his lips. My god, his lips. They alone could send me over the edge.
His hand slid up my abdomen. “If you keep staring at me like that, I might have to do something about it,” he said, his eyes opening.
I didn’t respond. He pulled me over, sliding me underneath him. He stared down at me out of those dark blue eyes filled with heat and I forgot myself. Yanking him down, I pressed my lips to his as I wrapped my legs around his waist. All that mattered in this moment was me and him—and this seductive dance we had been playing for weeks. It was time for us to do something about it.
Something akin to a growl escaped him as he devoured my mouth. I rocked forward, savoring the delicious feel of him between my legs. When I squeezed him tighter, he rose up and snatched off my shirt. He grabbed my arms and pinned them above my head. I arched up, seeking, and he brought his mouth down on my breast, sucking my sensitive nipple into his mouth. I groaned as wave after wave of pleasure rode through me.
And while his mouth continued to do some amazing things, some soon to be dead person knocked at the door.
“Can you please break their mind?” I said, my voice ragged.
He chuckled, his mouth still on my breast. “Oh, please do that again,” I said.
To my complete and utter devastation, he rose up. “We will finish this,” he growled.
“I vote we finish it now.”
He leaned down and kissed me. “Later.”
“Fine. But not here. Because I will kill the next person who interrupts us.”
He laughed and slid off the bed.
He actually thought I was kidding.
After taking a cold shower, I joined the rest of the team in the kitchen. I might have glared at everyone as I ate my eggs and toast, but it couldn’t be helped. The cold shower did not help worth a damn. And the heated looks Alek kept giving me weren’t helping, either.
Once Marta arrived, Jonah and I headed out.
While he drove, I went over a bit of island history. It was a great way to take my mind off my unfulfilled need. And Jonah didn’t stop me—even though he knew all of the information I was going over already.
There was a small settlement of Cherokee Indians already occupying the island when the first wagons travelled across the land bridge connected to Georgia in 1871. When they attempted to set up settlements, the Indians forced them back off the land and warned them never to return.
Since it had never been written down or discovered, a lot of speculation was used to explain how they were able to defend the island when they were so few in number. One of the stories told was that the land did not want the settlers there and gave the Indians power to cast them away.
Only years later, they did settle on Tulare and broke the island up into six settlements: Tulare, Dulean, Pleasanton, Brunswood, Perry, and Alice.
After reading Louis Badet’s publication again, we discovered that Coeur d’ Alene, Sandpoint, and the Cherokee Nation—referred to in the document as The People—at the northern part of the island, made up a triumvirate of protection that was said to help keep Set from escaping the island. It also said that The People had been tasked with guarding the Ark, keeping it out of the hands of man.
So, how had The People lost the Ark in the first place?
“What do you believe happened?” Jonah asked after I finished.
“I’m thinking that if there is a mastermind, then that person or being is the one who freed Set. And also the one who stole the Ark from The People.”
He nodded.
“But how?” he asked.
I glanced out the window. “Don’t know. But we better find out soon.”
Jonah passed by the sign announcing we were entering the town of Sandpoint. Light traffic occupied the two-lane road. I stared out at the mom-and-pop businesses lining the road on both sides. A few outdoor restaurants were wedged in between. Smoke filled the air from the large outdoor grills. I inhaled the savory scents of meat and spices.
Unlike Coeur d’Alene, Sandpoint resembled the rest of the island, with modern family homes and schools.
“Did you ride through Sandpoint as well on your recon mission of Tulare?” I asked.
Jonah laughed. “Yes, I even stopped for some sauteed shrimp and okra.” He smiled. “Reminded me of the okra my grandma used to make when we visited her in Georgia.”
“You have Gullah roots?” I asked.
“No. But my grandma dated a man who did. They loved to cook together.” He chuckled. “My mama said they loved to compete, always trying to outdo one another.”
I smiled. “My family in New Orleans is like that. Always congregating around food.” I looked out the window. “I miss them.”
“When’s the last time you’ve seen them?”
“When they helped me get away from a woman who I believed was my aunt.” I pulled air into my lungs, fighting the sudden tears threatening to fall. “She thought she could heal me by tying me to an altar in the bayou and having a charlatan…” I trailed off. I had no idea what Pastor Jeremiah’s plans had been.
Jonah took my hand and squeezed it. “Is this what upset you at church on Sunday?”
I turned to him. “Yeah. And you are the first person I’ve ever talked to about it.”
“You should tell Alek. And the rest of the team.”
“I will.” It felt freeing, finally telling someone about the past. And somehow healing as well. Why had I waited so long to talk about it?
A short while later, Jonah pulled up to a small white house with yellow shutters. Three small children ran around the yard, stopping when we climbed out of the car. The youngest—a little girl with dark skin and long hair—came running over to us. She smiled up at me as she rubbed her head. I’d say she was maybe three years old. She reminded me of Maria with her wide-open friendliness that was often found in children her age.
“Erila, you’re not supposed to talk to strangers,” the older of the children said. A young boy of no more than ten who watched Jonah and me out of wary eyes.
“Hi,” Erila said, still staring at me. “I’m Erila.”
I knelt and smiled at her. “I’m Nicole. I love your braids.”
She stepped forward and touched my hair. “Mama has hair like you.”
An old man stepped onto the porch wearing jean shorts and a light green t shirt. The wooden screen door thumped as he let it close behind him. “Hello,” he called as he shielded his eyes from the sun. “Can I help you?” A note of concern laced his voice.
Jonah went up the path toward him, a smile stretched across his face. “Hi, Professor Shukuma.”
Even though the professor shook Jonah’s hand, his gaze remained fixed on me. I didn’t blame him; a stranger was close to his grandchildren. I patted Erila’s head and joined Jonah at the porch.
“I was just meeting your…grandchildren?” I said, making the statement a question as I extended my hand to him. He smiled, the skin crinkling around his dark brown eyes, as he shook my hand.
“Yes, Erila can be too friendly sometimes. But her brother, Jelani, keeps watch.” He turned to the kids, eyes narrowing. “Stay in the yard. And keep your sister away from the road.”
“Yes, Grandpa,” Jelani said. He walked over and put a protective arm around Erila. She continued to beam at me. I hoped nothing would ever steal that joy from her heart.
“I can watch, too,” the other little girl said.
Professor Shukuma smiled. “I know that Zalika.” His attention returned to us. “What can I help you with?”
I pulled his book from my purse and handed it to him. “We wanted to ask you about what you wrote here.”
He nodded and took the book from my hands. Rubbing a hand over the cover, he took a step backward, stopping before he got to the door. “The Old Ones,” he said on a sigh. “Why don’t you two come inside out the heat? I can offer you some lemonade.” He opened the screen door, moving to the side and signaling us to enter.
I stepped inside, Jonah following directly behind me. Light filtered into the dark living-room from the large bay window. A wicker ceiling fan circled overhead, pushing a cool breeze around the room. All the furniture was dark. A large plush couch sat against the far wall with a coloring book sitting on top. Crayons lay scattered on the floor. Three small colorful plastic cups sat on a dark wood coffee table, along with paper towels covered in crumbs.
“I meant to clean this up,” the professor said, picking up the paper towels and cups. “But the phone rang before I could. Please.” He moved the coloring book, and I bent down and grabbed the crayons. “Thank you,” he said, taking them from me. “Now, sit. I’ll go get that lemonade.”
“Thank you, professor.”
“Please, call me Izsaka,” he said.
“I’m Jonah and this is Nicole. And sir, my mama would be really disappointed if I called you by your first name.”
The professor laughed. “Then your mama raised you right. But for now, in my home, I insist.” He stared at us, waiting.
“Yes, sir,” I said, also uncomfortable calling him by his first name.
He nodded and continued toward the back of the house. When I turned to Jonah, he was busy studying the framed photographs on the walls of desert scenes with glimpses of the pyramids. Some of the pictures had people in them—locals mixed with archeologists, all smiling into the camera. It must have been from one of the excavations he went on with his wife.
The professor returned, carrying two sweating glasses filled with ice and lemonade. “I used to make the trip to the motherland twice a year.” He handed us the glasses and napkins and sat down in the worn easy chair near the front door. “Ayanna, my late wife, and I used to take our students to Egypt for field research. Classroom learning is fine, but nothing beats seeing the places you’re studying.” He leaned back. “It was on one of those trips we found one of the three Arks.”
“Three?” I asked. All this time, I’d thought there was only one. How had we missed this?
He nodded. “Yes. Most of man’s religious history is based on the trinity. Even magick is based on the trinity. Air encompasses both mind and elemental magick. Earth has its own. And water, it represents the divine. Faith.”
“Baptism,” Jonah said.
“Correct,” the professor said.
I’d seen this representation in his book and the other books Luisah had let me study when I was trying to decide if I should stay at Tribec Insurance. “Tribec,” I said aloud.
“What?” the professor asked.
“Sorry. I just wondered if you’d seen the exhibits displayed at Tribec Insurance.”
His face grew hard. “I’ve seen them. Lisa Stewart had contacted me about them some time ago.” He shook his head and took a sip of his lemonade. “Didn’t much care for the likes of that woman. She wanted to look through my records for information on the other Arks. Told her I couldn’t help her.” He laughed, but there wasn’t any humor in it. “She threw a fit when I expressed the importance of having their collection behind lock and key. She wouldn’t see reason and didn’t take to kindly to the word no.” He frowned. “I understand she and her brother were found dead some weeks ago.”
Jonah and I both told him yes, but didn’t elaborate.
The professor gave me a quizzical look. “How do you know about their exhibits?”
I smiled. “I had the misfortune of working there for a short while.”
He nodded.
“It’s not important. I’m sorry for interrupting.”
He waved off my apology then sighed deeply. “The Ark we found contained two tablets with hieroglyphs on them. The students swore we had found the Ten Commandments.” He laughed. “Ayanna wondered the same thing and asked one of the people from the village to send over a curator from the museum.” He smiled at us. “Just in case. We were able to decipher the text. Only, later, as we reported our findings, we discovered what we’d translated was wrong.” He picked up the book from the coffee table and flipped through the pages. “It wasn’t the Ten Commandments. Nor was it a list of rules to live by. It was a sequence of events that led to the creation of The Old Ones. There wasn’t a word for blood magick, but one of my students was familiar enough with the practice to understand the meaning behind the phrase, Of the blood.”
A chill ran down my back as I thought of what Set had said to me in the field as he dug into my chest. “You are of the blood…” He believed, because of this, I would be able to free him.
“What does of the blood mean?” I asked.
He cut his gaze toward me. “Best guess—because that is all it would be—is it relates to a race of people or beings who were mentioned briefly in some of the writings we found later. Beings of fire. Again, the translation was off. Which, given our understanding of even the spoken languages, is possible. No one would truly know if the translations of the hieroglyphs are accurate. There is no point of reference, only guessing and assumptions.”
“What was really written on the tablets?” Jonah asked.
“A list of thirteen names. Or their sounds. All The Old Ones and the families they came from.”
I sat back, letting the glass cool my suddenly feverish hands. A race of people referred to as beings of fire. Mentioned in the same context with people of the blood. Could they be one and the same?
“Was magick ever mentioned?” I asked when there was a lull in the conversation.
The professor nodded. “Both before and after Christianity. In one text, the people who had magick in their blood were referred to as mages.”
So, all this time, we were referring to our abilities based on Christian ideals.
“Were there any other religions referenced in what you found?” Jonah asked.
“Yes,” he nodded. “Most of the well-known were mentioned. Buddhism, Christianity, Hinduism, Islam, Judaism, and even a few passages about Shintoism.” He sat back. “You have to understand, in Egypt, before religion, hundreds of gods have been referenced in both myth and faith magick. These same gods had counterparts in every civilization around the world. When Christianity came on the scene, all of them were demonized, and from them, the one true god was born.” He shook his head. “What they didn’t realize was that the one true god had always existed, and The Old Ones were once human beings. Religions have always borrowed from one another: building, changing, corrupting. Until the truth is so deeply buried that, if ever found, it will sound like fiction.”
“Maybe that was the point,” I said.
“Yes, as with all men and women who seek power, corrupting the beliefs of others is the best way.” He paused, staring at us. “What religion are you most curious about?”
“A sex magick cult that worships Shezmu.”
“On Tulare?” He laughed. “People are more familiar with Bacchus. But yes, at one time in ancient Egypt, Shezmu was worshiped. Mostly by women who believed he bestowed power on them.”
I shifted at the mention of power being given. Jordin had told me he shared some of his power with me.
“But I believe the practice has died out.”
I started to tell him about Gavina but thought better of it. No need to involve anyone else in this.
“Does this help?” the professor asked.
“Yes,” Jonah said. “Can you tell us anything about the other Arks?”
He grew solemn, as if something painful were weighing on him. “Knowledge, life, and death. One to give knowledge. One to give life. And one to kill. On our last dig, after our kids were older, we found the Ark to kill. When we returned to the States, my wife…she went insane. I had to put her in the hospital to protect myself and our family.” He clasped his hands in front of him. “She died three days after she was admitted.”
“I am so sorry,” I said, Jonah echoing my sentiment.
The professor nodded.
“What did you do with the Ark?” Jonah asked.
“Buried it. We originally found it using a map. My wife had magick in her blood. Not strong, mind you, but enough of it to recognize what we’d uncovered. She stopped me from touching that cursed thing. But not before she had laid her hands on it. She made me promise never to tell anyone where the Ark was again. I do, however, remember the inscription written on it. A single word: harbinger.”
“What was written on the Ark with the tablets inside?” I asked.
“Historian. And the Ark of life, sometimes referred to as the Ark of Horus, had been removed from Egypt thousands of years ago.” He leaned in. “It’s rumored to have been hidden on this very island.”
He had no idea that those rumors were actually true.
After thanking the professor, we said goodbye to his grandkids and left. We’d learned some things, but not nearly enough. Up until now, we’d believed there had only been one Ark. From what Professor Shukuma said, there were three. Could that be the reason Andrew Snow had been collecting information not only on his employers, the Stewart family, but the other families as well? Did he believe they had information on the other two Arks? Because if the Ark that had been hidden with The People could be found, then I had no doubt the other two had been found as well. Which made me wonder…who had the Ark of death?