Lovers' Victory (PAPERBACK)

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THE ENTRANCE TO THE ancient Egyptian compound of Saqqara was simultaneously claustrophobic and overwhelming. It was narrower than Amy had pictured, but the fluted stone columns rising on either side of her loomed like giants in the shadows. She hoisted her backpack more comfortably on her shoulders and slanted a glance at Elijah, feeling a sudden bout of nervousness.

“I can’t believe you used to come here for work every day,” she said. “Why on earth did you give it up?”

Both she and her husband boasted the title of ‘Doctor’ before their names, but in Elijah’s case, it was a PhD in Archaeology to go along with his Master’s in Cultural Anthropology. To say that Amy’s doctorate was a little more mundane was putting it mildly.

Elijah shot her a sideways glance, his mahogany eyes flat and expressionless, as they so often seemed to be these days. “It’s a pile of dusty rocks and sand, Ames. When you’ve picked through a few dozen places like this for weeks at a time under the desert sun, they start to lose their appeal,” he said. His jaw worked, a tendon standing out under his dark skin. “Which isn’t to say I’m thrilled about a bunch of hippies camping here and destroying the place. The regular tourist crowds are hard enough on historical sites.”

Back home in Pennsylvania, Elijah was a professor at West Parklands University. For the first few years of their relationship, he had been passionate about going on digs all over the world, and he’d been part of the team working on the restoration of the very site they were walking through. These days, Amy was lucky to get her husband to take her out for dinner and a movie.

She suspected he was suffering from clinical depression and had been for some time, but on the handful of occasions she’d brought it up, Elijah had brushed her off. And lately, things in the world at large were becoming so hopelessly whacked that the idea of badgering someone into therapy because they no longer felt fulfilled by their job seemed… shallow, somehow.

Not to mention the fact that if he did submit to getting help, any psychologist worth his or her salt would want to drag Amy in as well for joint counseling. Which… wasn’t something she was in much of a hurry to do.

Hypocrisy for the win.

So, instead, here they were—half a world away from home, hanging out with the hippies while rioting and border wars flared in countries around the globe. She ran a hand over her belly absently.

“Let’s just get inside the complex and check things out,” she said, painfully aware that Elijah had only agreed to this trip to humor her. From the look of things, he was regretting the decision more and more by the minute.

“Yeah. Okay.” His tone was flat, but a moment later, his fingers brushed hers. She tangled their hands together gratefully, the creamy white of her skin contrasting with the rich dark brown of his.

They’d always been a study in opposites. Amy’s genes came straight from Ireland—she was pale and freckled with curly red hair and green eyes. Elijah was more than a head taller than her, a devastatingly handsome black man with close-cropped hair and an athlete’s build. Indeed, he’d been a marathon runner when she’d first met him—another passion of his that had fallen by the wayside over the years.

Coming here to Saqqara had become a strange obsession for Amy. In the last few weeks, reports had started appearing on the internet—communes spontaneously popping up at spiritual and cultural sites across the world. She couldn’t really explain her desire to come to this place; certainly, there were several other sites closer to their home. Maybe it was because Saqqara had been the first such enclave to appear. Maybe it was because Elijah had been here before.

Whatever the case, something about the gathering of people at Saqqara called to her. It was totally irrational, but a part of her mind insisted that here, she and Elijah might find the part of their lives that had been missing. The part that was slowly destroying them with its absence.

She stifled a snort. She could almost hear Elijah saying, “Don’t be ridiculous. All you’ll find here is an increased risk of skin cancer and, if you’re not careful, a bout of gastroenteritis.”

Bright light made Amy’s eyes water as they reached the end of the claustrophobic stone corridor and stepped into a massive, open esplanade.

Amy’s eyes widened at the sight beyond. It was completely different than what she had expected. Overwhelming, like the first time she saw the ocean as a child. Seeing places like this on television or in books simply couldn’t convey the awe-inspiring size of them.

“This is… wow. Amazing.” She placed her hand above her eyes, shielding them from the glare of the unforgiving desert sun. Her gaze took in the wall of the southern tomb, a row of cobra heads carved along the top as though standing guard over the space below. To their right, some distance away, stood the step pyramid. “Oh, my god. This is so damned cool. How tall is that thing?”

“Sixty-two meters. About two hundred feet,” Elijah said. His attention wasn’t on the pyramid or the cobra head wall, however. It was on the incredible bustle of human activity filling this ancient place. “So many people,” he whispered, shaking his head. “This was a terrible idea.”

Amy winced, and tried to cover it. Who knew five words could hurt so much?

She whirled on her husband and pulled her hand free from his, schooling her voice to stay low and even. “You said you’d try. Thanks so much for the ten minutes of effort you just expended. It must have been excruciating to endure.”

A frown drew his brows together. “I didn’t mean coming here. I meant… this.” He gestured at the space filled with tents and portaloos and solar panels and power cables and people. “Look at it! These idiots could ruin all the work archaeologists put into restoring this place.”

Relief combined with a momentary feeling of sheepishness deflated her bubble of anger. Damned if she’d show it, though.

“Well, it doesn’t look like they’re ruining it to me,” Amy said stubbornly. She returned her gaze to the crowd of people gathered in the shadow of the pyramid. The atmosphere was peaceful as they chatted amiably or rested against the rough stone. “Besides, I think it’s wonderful, all these people coming together. Standing up for something.”

“Couldn’t they have stood up for something while staying at—I don’t know—a convention center, or a hotel or something?” Elijah muttered. “They could have gone to the Luxor in Vegas if they thought the whole ‘pyramid’ vibe was so important.”

“No, it wouldn’t be the same,” Amy said, taking in the aura of peace that covered the ancient site like a comforting blanket. “There’s something about this place, don’t you think? It feels… powerful, yet calm.”

Elijah blew out a breath. “Sorry—I don’t feel anything but annoyed. They’re turning this site into a joke. I mean, come on. Portable toilets at the base of the oldest pyramid in Egypt?”

She stopped herself from asking if he’d rather the people here used the sand dunes as a great big human litter box instead. Bickering wouldn’t help the situation. It never did. God knew they’d tested that theory often enough over the past few years.

“There’s still something about it,” she insisted. “Something I can’t quite put my finger on.” She took a deep breath of the hot dry air and let it out slowly, closing her eyes. “It feels like… like a weight’s been lifted from me. Like something inside me is lighter. Everything just seems… familiar. You have to at least admit that.”

She opened her eyes to find Elijah looking down at her with a raised eyebrow. “Yes, I admit—it’s familiar. That’s probably because I’ve been here before.”

Amy wrinkled her nose at him, coming to terms with the fact that this trip wouldn’t be as smooth and easy a feat as she might have hoped. Please, let this excursion not have been the stupidest idea I’ve ever had, she prayed to whatever ancient gods might be lingering around this place.