As Long As: Vampire Assassin League, #28

By Jackie Ivie

POWER AND DOMINATION

Sokar had been atop the world.  Heir to a powerful pharaoh of the Middle Kingdom.   Commander-in-Chief of the army.  Hieroglyphs adorned temple walls with his many victories.  Supremacy was his birthright.  Wearing the double crown as ruler of Upper and Lower Egypt, his future. 

But betrayal took it all away. 

SMART AND DEADLY

Geena Bauman doesn’t have a life.  She has a mission:  Finding and eliminating threats to her nation’s security.  She’s well-trained for whatever the job requires.  Death is a viable option, even hers.  She doesn’t need anyone, especially a man.  She’s perfect for the job.  Unemotional.  No friends.  No close family.  No ties.  No heart.    

PHARAOH’S CURSE

Tracking down terrorist cells gets Geena involved in black market dealings.  Potentially stolen artifacts.  Ancient Egyptian origin.  Perfect condition.  And carrying a curse.  Geena’s not too concerned.  She’ll do anything necessary.  Besides, she isn’t superstitious.  She doesn’t believe in curses.

Until a god of the dead shows up… 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jackie Ivie
• Release date: Oct 29, 2015
• ISBN: 9781939820679

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

He was named for a god of the dead.

It fit.

The moment he opened his eyes, Sokar knew.

The tomb had been violated.

Something taken.

Thieves had breached this sacred place. That hadn’t happened in centuries. They mustn’t have paid attention to the inscriptions, if they could even read them. This tomb was special. It carried a curse – a real one. Every person coming into contact with any artifact was going to die. It would be a gruesome death, too. Nothing that would be attributed to natural causes. The deaths would be punishment. Painful. Torturous. Brutal.

The thought gave him great pleasure.

Sokar pushed the stone lid to one side, listening as stone grated against stone. And then he sat. Pitch black greeted him. Air, weighted with the scent of ancient wood, statuary, jewels, and precious metal surrounded him. Cloying. Suffocating. Nothing seemed out of place. Sokar cocked his head to one side and listened. Silence greeted him. It was an intense quiet. Vast. The kind that made a human’s ears ring. Sokar blinked and waited. Blinked again. Sight gradually returned. Despite the darkness, he could delineate the interior of a gilded shrine. And then his vision sharpened to include the inscriptions. The structure enclosed him, protecting his sepulcher on all four sides with hieroglyphs. He had a book of the dead beside him. It contained magical spells for the journey to the afterlife. He rested in a solid gold sarcophagus. It nestled inside a much larger, stone one. Made from Aswan granite. The golden one was inscribed with coffin texts. It was anthropomorphic. Hewn for an immense man.

His great grandfather.

Pharaoh Senusret III had stood four cubits, three palms, and two finger lengths in height; a modern equivalent of six foot six. His heir and son, Amenemhet III had been shorter, but two of Pharaoh Senusret’s great-grandsons inherited his height. Sokar was the largest. He was six foot five. Anyone seeing him immediately recognized him. He’d cleared streets with his passage. Gained shocked respect. Earned many victories that added breadth to his presence. He’d been in the full bloom of manhood. Lean. Muscled. Twenty-five. Commander-in-chief of the army for almost seven years. His father’s pride.

He was afraid of nothing. Little could harm him.

...except a knife blade slipped between his ribs one evening.

The inner coffin in his tomb was beautifully made...yet overly large. Perhaps it was because they’d used the one prepared for his father. It might also be that the embalmer counted on the linen. Yards of linen strips were supposed to be swathing his body, torn from special-woven material. Tacked into place with resin. That would have made the fit almost perfect. Then again...the sarcophagus could be too large because they’d been mummifying his newly-deceased half-brother’s body and placing it within these sarcophagi.

Not his.

A pebble chased another one somewhere in the pitch-black tomb. The sound echoed and re-echoed through the passages. Was it possible the robbers were still here? Still gathering grave objects? Completely unaware of the threat?

Could he really be that lucky?

Sokar eased from the nest of coffins. Bent his neck to keep from grazing the roof of the shrine. The enclosure was made of gilded wood. It had been sealed by a priest of Anubis in 1805 BC. That clay seal was still in place. Intact. Sokar approached the back wall. One side was off its pegs, making it easy to swing it open. That’s how he’d accessed it the first time. He’d removed his half-brother’s mummy, emptied the canopic jars. Took them into the desert and let time do its work. Sokar wasn’t allowing any part of his murderous brother to survive and reach the afterlife.

The panel was well-used, and quiet. The wood barely whispered as he moved it. And then he heard someone speak.

~ ~ ~

I don’t like this.

"Why not? It’s an ushabti. A servant statue. King Tut had over 400 of them."

Did you look that up on the internet?

It is authentic. In perfect condition and available for purchase.

Well...I don’t traffic in stolen grave goods, and you know it. Geena looked over the top of her magnifying glasses. The look was meant to convey disgust and distrust. It didn’t seem to work.

Stolen? Oh no. Never. I am working for a Scandinavian family, one who wishes to remain anonymous. This was in their family collection. It is worth top dollar. It’s Middle Kingdom. Dynasty thirteen. Maybe fourteen.

Twelfth dynasty. If it’s real.

Geena’s tone belied her real emotions. She sounded bored. Disinterested. Disdainful. She managed to control any tremor as she cradled the forearm-sized statue with both hands. It wasn’t possible. This piece was too good. In perfect condition. The statue was a single piece of alabaster, carved to represent a mummy, hands across the chest, each holding implements. From the waist down, it was covered with inscriptions. She tipped it slightly to look at the shoulder. Wow. It even had the impression of a seed pack carved across a back shoulder. This was incredibly rare. Unbelievably priceless. And Armand had ten of them?

I have the entire set of ten, he spoke as if she’d asked it aloud. They are in a large chest from the same period. I also have the overseer.

Really? Good. Her voice held just a hint of interest.

"Every ten ushabtis had an overseer. You can tell because it is wearing a starched kilt."

Armand sent a swift glance to the only door before returning his attention to her. He colored slightly at her scrutiny. That was interesting. And something more. She could swear he was on edge. Wary. She waited a few seconds more before replying.

More internet searching? she asked.

Does it matter where I get my information?

Not really.

Geena set the statue carefully back into the mass of burlap that had enwrapped it. Then she stood to place it onto the boardroom table, right beside the large leather satchel they’d used to transport it. She took her glasses off next, folded them, and replaced them in the case before putting it in her shirt pocket. Refastened the button. She backed a step, pushing her chair out of the way, the move gaining space. Maneuvering room. The room didn’t have much in the way of furnishings. This table ran down the center. Twelve executive-style chairs framed the table. A sink and countertop delineated one wall. A display stand holding a large pad of paper occupied one corner. It was a small conference room. Private. Secure. Easy to defend. She’d booked it for that very reason.

And the fact it was soundproofed.

I still don’t like it.

Are you insane? I could get thousands for this at auction. Hundreds of thousands. Maybe more.

Then why don’t you?

Because it belongs with you. In a museum. Not some rich man’s collection.

Come on, Armand. We’ve known each other a little too long. You’re offering it to me because if you tried to sell it at auction, it would have to be authenticated. Your source verified. You can’t take that kind of risk. You’d get caught.

Now...why would you say that?

Armand stood as well. He was of Middle Eastern descent. Dark-haired. He wore a linen tunic shirt and dark slacks. He was a little over average height. Geena was an inch shorter. He would be easy. Not his bodyguards. The three men he’d brought with him each took a step away from the walls. They were large, imposing individuals. They might even have weapons. Geena looked at each one before turning her attention back to Armand.

How did you get this out of Egypt? she asked.

What makes you say I got it there?

He sent another glance to the door to her right. Geena forced back an impulse to do the same.

Because an artifact of this size, condition, and antiquity doesn’t just appear. And you say you have an entire set? If this was in a collection you’d recently acquired, it would have created all kinds of attention. Everywhere. You’d be besieged with offers. And you’d have more than three, iffy-looking security personnel with you.

The bodyguards each stood straighter at her remark. Geena’s lips twitched. She caught the smile.

Are you interested in purchasing or not?

Geena watched him scoop the ushabti up and repack it into the satchel. He didn’t use the care she would have. He also appeared to be shaking.

You never gave me a price.

I was waiting for your reaction. I believe I will need to recalculate. You are not the lone buyer I can approach.

Damn. Armand was smart. She’d given it away with her last remarks. He checked the door again. Geena’s glance went there, too. Weird. She experienced the slightest shiver along her arms and then down her spine. But there was nothing to see except a large wooden door. She returned her attention to Armand and spoke.

Two-hundred and fifty thousand.

Per statue?

Geena huffed the amusement.

Reviews for As Long As

[LunaMoody · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

It was cute. I liked the characters. It had action, humor, witty dialogue and more. I enjoyed reading it