Blood Lines

and before another high ranking official took the Inspector's place. Zottie was merely mortal and could be quickly dealt with. As for the mummy-if Tawfik was the mummy-it had proven itself to be a taker of innocent lives. Henry didn't particularly care what its reasons were. The time for it to die was millennia past.
    From where he stood, he could see Cantree's gaze flicking constantly over the room, observing, noting, remembering.
    It was apparently a habit all police officers acquired, for Henry had seen both Vicki and Celluci perform variations on the theme.
    Then Tawfik began to talk, his voice low and intense. To Henry it sounded like law and order generalities, but obviously Cantree heard something more. The movement of his gaze began to slow until it locked on the man-on the creature-in the chair. Certain words began to be repeated and after each the Inspector nodded and his expression grew blank. A rivulet of sweat-the library was at least ten degrees warmer than the rest of the house-ran unnoticed down his face.
    Unease danced icy fingers along Henry's spine as Tawfik's cadence grew more and more hypnotic and the key words occurred more and more frequently. It was magic, Henry could sense that, however much it looked like something less arcane, but magic completely outside his understanding. A working for good or evil he could have sensed, but this was neither. It just was.
    When all three hearts beat to an identical rhythm, Tawfik paused, then said, "His ka is open.
    'Frank Cantree. Can you hear me?"
    'Yes."
    'From this moment on, your primary concern is to obey me. Do you understand?"
    'Yes."

    'You will protect my interests above all else. Do you understand?"
    'Yes."
    'You will protect me. Do you understand?"
    'Yes." But this time after the single syllable of assent, Cantree's mouth continued to work.
    'What is it?"
    Although independent movement should have been impossible under the conditions of the spell, Cantree's lips curled slightly as he answered. "There is someone standing behind the curtains behind your chair."
    For a heartbeat, the scene hung in limbo, then Henry threw the curtains aside, charged forward, came face-to-face with the creature rising from the chair, and froze.
    He got a jumbled impression of gold leather sandals, a linen kilt, a wide belt, a necklace of heavy beads that half covered a naked chest, hair too thick and black to be real, and then the kohl-circled eyes under the wig caught his and all he saw was a great golden sun centered in an azure sky.
    In blind panic, he wrenched his gaze away, turned, and dove through the window.
    Although she knew it was impossible, that the night for her was as dark as it would ever get, Vicki suddenly felt that it had grown darker still; as if a cloud had covered the moon she couldn't see and the shadows had thickened. Senses straining, she slowly got out of the car, allowing the door to close but not to latch. A quick tug would turn on the interior light and enable her to at least find her way back again.
    They pay high enough taxes in this neighborhood, you'd think they could manage a few more streetlights .
    The night seemed to be waiting, so Vicki waited with it. Then, from not so far away, came the sound of breaking glass, the violent snapping of small branches, and, approaching more quickly than possible, leather soles slapping out a panicked flight against concrete.
    There was no time to think, to weigh her move. Vicki stepped away from the car directly into the path of the sound.
    They both went down.
    The impact drove the breath out of her lungs and her jaw slammed up with enough force so every tooth in her head shuddered with the impact. She took a moment to thank any gods who might be listening that her tongue had been tucked safely out of the way even as she grabbed onto what felt like expensive lapels. During the landing, her head bounced off the pavement, the glancing blow creating an impressive fireworks display on the inside of her lids.
    Somehow she managed to keep her grip. Not until cold hands grabbed her wrists and yanked them effortlessly away did she realize who she held. Or more accurately, had held. "Henry? Damnit, it's me, Vicki!"
    Sanctuary. The sun was rising. He must reach sanctuary.
    Vicki twisted and, barely in time, wrapped herself around Henry's right leg. If she couldn't stop him, maybe she could slow him down.
    'Henry!"
    A weight clung to his leg, impeding his flight. He bent to rip it free and a familiar scent