Chapter Four
If the goddess Amunet was awakened, the hatred on the planet would find a home within her. Like Pandora’s box, it would be contained once more. Religious, racial, and sexual intolerance, war, terrorism, rape, random acts of insane violence… they would come to an eventual end. Amunet would act as an antenna for the negative emotions of an entire world, and she would refocus them. That’s what the Entity had told Arach. That’s what he’d told Evangeline. That’s what he’d told everyone he’d pulled into his grasp. Of course, he’d also promised Arach a queen. The Dragon Queen.
But that was another matter.
Apparently Entities couldn’t lie. If that were true – ironically – it meant everything the Entity had promised concerning an end to hatred and violence must come to fruition.
So, what happened that afternoon was admittedly surprising. For everyone involved.
It started with a vial of Evangeline’s blood. The Entity had one for every individual who had ever “worked” for him, willingly or not. None of them ever saw it coming, and magic prevented the Entity’s former employees from warning the newbies. It simply happened. The new recruit would agree to help the Entity – and then BAM! There was some open wound sliced into the new guy’s body, always at a random location. And it always hurt. And it never healed, not entirely.
The Entity then kept the blood that was magically extracted from this wound. But Evangeline’s was special. She’d recently become a queen.
None of them had foreseen this eventuality. None of them had known that the very same head-strong, violet-eyed woman who was sometimes doing her job under the Entity’s employ was none other than the next queen at the Table of the Thirteen. Fortunately, they’d just happened to unwittingly plan for it.
It took the blood of a queen to awaken the sleeping goddess. Whether or not Evangeline had yet accepted her new position at the renowned Table was immaterial. She was a queen, born into the role, and seated on the throne by fate. Sooner or later, she would have to accept it.
That was what mattered where Amunet was concerned.
Evangeline’s blood shimmered in the crystal container the Entity held between his thumb and forefinger. He swirled it like one would swirl wine in a glass and held it up to the beams of sunlight streaming through the holes in the rafters overhead. It glittered like dark red goldstone.
The building, or what remained of it, had been abandoned for hundreds of years. Made of stone and history, it lay crumbling around them. At some point in the near past, someone had attempted to protect what was left of it from the elements, but it was a half-hearted attempt, and only the stone foundation and pillars remained. The wood was crumbling along with everything else.
The smell of fog, of dew and mist, and of wayward vegetation filled the air, mixing with the salt from the nearby sea. They were in Northern California, somewhere between San Francisco and Portland. Arach realized there was a lot of space there. But the truth was, he had stopped trying to figure out exactly where the Entity teleported him. When he needed or wanted to leave, it was simply easier to back-track and go on from his previous location. The Entity’s magic was very powerful and very shielded. Tracking it or tracing it was draining.
“You may wish to stand back, dragon,” said the Entity as the ancient evil approached the sarcophagus at the center of the weathered room. Arach took a step back. Then another. They were awakening a goddess, after all.
The Entity was now dressed as a human. In fact, this was the most human-looking Arach had ever seen him. He had black hair, black eyes, and his skin was a touch pale. But his height, his build, and his movements were those of a handsome, graceful young man. For once, there was no strange, too-wide smile. His clothing was dark, as usual, but it was that of a wealthy man, finely bracked and expertly tailored. He was looking his best for his love, Arach supposed.
The Entity came to stand directly beside the stone coffin, held the vial up in his right hand, and raised his left hand palm-down over the bas relief in the sarcophagus lid. A second passed before the lid slid slowly open, scraping noisily. Arach nearly jumped at the sound. He was on edge.
Without glancing at him, the Entity smiled, obviously amused by Arach’s wariness. But it was clear the bulk of his attention was focused on the long-slumbered queen resting like Snow White before them. She wore a serene expression, and her long black hair cascaded over her shoulders in shining rivulets. Her lashes were thick, resting peacefully on her sculpted cheek bones. Despite her sleep, there was color in her pallor. Arach was struck with the impression that the goddess was merely napping. All it would take was a nudge or a loud noise and she would awaken.
But the scraping of the lid had been plenty of noise, and rest she still did, dead to the waking world and all who moved within it.
The Entity closed his black eyes and began to speak. Then Arach watched the man tip the vial in his right hand. A single drop of Evangeline’s blood fell from the rim of the vial as if in slow motion. It shimmered in a shaft of light before it landed on Amunet’s lips and slipped into her mouth. Arach found he was holding his breath.
The Entity continued to speak. His words were incomprehensible, even to one as old as Arach, and despite the numerous languages he could speak. At first, the words were whispers, inflected with a slight voice that barely carried to Arach. But little by little, the whispers grew. They seemed to stretch, filling up the corners of the ruined building to meld with the shadows. They gained dimension, and Arach not only heard them clearly now, but felt them. Like static along the skin.
The hairs on his arms lifted, and the back of his neck pricked. Warning bells went off in his head. But the Entity’s words were in there now too, and they drowned out the warning sounds. They were bigger. They were more powerful.
It took a moment for Arach to realize that the ground beneath his feet was vibrating. Either northern California was once more experiencing a mild earthquake – or this was the Entity’s doing.
Now Arach’s mind told him firmly: Leave.
Get out.
But he was held rapt, his attention glued to the sleeping figure in the sarcophagus as a second drop of blood slipped into the waiting goddess’s mouth. The ground shook with more fervor. Evil was a shaky thing.
Pieces of the already crumbling edifice around him broke free from the walls and tumbled to the ground. The whispers began to spin, to swim in the air, now as visible as spirits or restless ghosts.
Arach gazed, transfixed in terror and fascination, as Amunet’s eyes opened.