is a jackal now. One of us. I trust her. But I don’t trust the other priestesses. While it’s true none of them have done anything suspicious while they’ve been here, I’m not going to relax the guards watching them. I’m not going to trust them. Any of them.”
* * *
Rana leaned against the wall outside the office, her hands pressed to her mouth. Hector’s words shouldn’t have hurt her, especially after the way he’d acted with her in the infirmary. Still, his lack of trust, especially after she had been so intimate, so stripped bare with him, sliced through her. After all their time together, how could he still not trust her?
How can you expect him to trust you when you haven’t been honest with him? a sly voice whispered through her. Why haven’t you told him you’re her granddaughter?
Because she was afraid.
She closed her eyes, trying to absorb that simple truth. In her three hundred years, she’d traveled the world, done things, seen many more. She’d been in countless dangerous situations in the quest to grow her skills and her craft. She shouldn’t have been afraid, but she was.
This was home. Here she had purpose, direction, a place. The Daughters had a number of healers in the circle, some as good as she at their craft, a couple better. She wasn’t needed there and, if she was honest with herself, had preferred to spend more time away from the circle than be an integral part of it. The jackals needed her, and being needed felt good. If they discovered the truth...
If they discovered the truth, her short stay here at the jackal stronghold would be over. No one would want the direct descendant of their mortal enemy tending them at their most vulnerable. Her relationship with Hector would be over.
Hector. How would he react? Rana’s stomach cramped with uncertainty. No, not uncertainty. Given the rant she’d just overheard, she had a good idea of what Hector’s reaction to her confession would be, and it wasn’t pretty.
It was time to face reality. What she and Hector had was a wild fantasy, passionate and so very satisfying. It was also a fling, transient, temporary. It had never been about forever. It had never been about falling in love, joining as mates, having children. Even if she’d found herself dreaming of just that.
Stress clawed at her insides as she rubbed a hand over her forehead. Fatigue beat at her, making it difficult to think, and she desperately needed to think. She needed rest. She needed time to build up her emotional defenses. She needed time to plan what she would say, how she would say it and when. She’d hope to have time to use the results of her experiments to come up with a charm that would make the jackals impervious to the Lost Ones, an amulet that would help them defeat Amansuanan. Success would have secured her place with the clan, and perhaps they would have even forgiven her for her bloodline. She just needed more time. Unfortunately, time had run out.
“Rana.”
She froze at the order implicit in Markus’s tone. Belatedly she realized that he’d probably scented her, if he hadn’t heard her approach. She still wore her surgical scrubs, streaked here and there with jackal blood. She could only hope that he hadn’t realized how long she’d stood in the hallway, and that her eavesdropping had been unintentional.
Squaring her shoulders, she stepped into the office. The hallway on the lower level of the community house was decorated with scenes of Anubis guiding a soul through Duat, a soul she’d discovered was Sekhanu, the founder of their clan. Though parts of the underworld were scary, especially if one didn’t have the proper spells to safely maneuver, the images had been painted to comfort, to show that Lord Anubis was in control and those in his care safe.
Here, Anubis was not only in control, but also in a place of power. In a recess against the back wall, two columns carved with hieroglyphs of praises to Anubis flanked a life-size statue
* * *
Rana leaned against the wall outside the office, her hands pressed to her mouth. Hector’s words shouldn’t have hurt her, especially after the way he’d acted with her in the infirmary. Still, his lack of trust, especially after she had been so intimate, so stripped bare with him, sliced through her. After all their time together, how could he still not trust her?
How can you expect him to trust you when you haven’t been honest with him? a sly voice whispered through her. Why haven’t you told him you’re her granddaughter?
Because she was afraid.
She closed her eyes, trying to absorb that simple truth. In her three hundred years, she’d traveled the world, done things, seen many more. She’d been in countless dangerous situations in the quest to grow her skills and her craft. She shouldn’t have been afraid, but she was.
This was home. Here she had purpose, direction, a place. The Daughters had a number of healers in the circle, some as good as she at their craft, a couple better. She wasn’t needed there and, if she was honest with herself, had preferred to spend more time away from the circle than be an integral part of it. The jackals needed her, and being needed felt good. If they discovered the truth...
If they discovered the truth, her short stay here at the jackal stronghold would be over. No one would want the direct descendant of their mortal enemy tending them at their most vulnerable. Her relationship with Hector would be over.
Hector. How would he react? Rana’s stomach cramped with uncertainty. No, not uncertainty. Given the rant she’d just overheard, she had a good idea of what Hector’s reaction to her confession would be, and it wasn’t pretty.
It was time to face reality. What she and Hector had was a wild fantasy, passionate and so very satisfying. It was also a fling, transient, temporary. It had never been about forever. It had never been about falling in love, joining as mates, having children. Even if she’d found herself dreaming of just that.
Stress clawed at her insides as she rubbed a hand over her forehead. Fatigue beat at her, making it difficult to think, and she desperately needed to think. She needed rest. She needed time to build up her emotional defenses. She needed time to plan what she would say, how she would say it and when. She’d hope to have time to use the results of her experiments to come up with a charm that would make the jackals impervious to the Lost Ones, an amulet that would help them defeat Amansuanan. Success would have secured her place with the clan, and perhaps they would have even forgiven her for her bloodline. She just needed more time. Unfortunately, time had run out.
“Rana.”
She froze at the order implicit in Markus’s tone. Belatedly she realized that he’d probably scented her, if he hadn’t heard her approach. She still wore her surgical scrubs, streaked here and there with jackal blood. She could only hope that he hadn’t realized how long she’d stood in the hallway, and that her eavesdropping had been unintentional.
Squaring her shoulders, she stepped into the office. The hallway on the lower level of the community house was decorated with scenes of Anubis guiding a soul through Duat, a soul she’d discovered was Sekhanu, the founder of their clan. Though parts of the underworld were scary, especially if one didn’t have the proper spells to safely maneuver, the images had been painted to comfort, to show that Lord Anubis was in control and those in his care safe.
Here, Anubis was not only in control, but also in a place of power. In a recess against the back wall, two columns carved with hieroglyphs of praises to Anubis flanked a life-size statue
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