Blood of the Nile

  Evernight Publishing

  www.evernightpublishing.com

  Copyright© 2013 Annalynne Russo

  ISBN: 978-1-77130-578-5

  Cover Artist: Sour Cherry Designs

  Editor: JS Cook

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  BLOOD OF THE NILE

  Tales from the Vampire Scribe, 4

  Annalynne Russo

  Copyright © 2013

  Chapter One

  The Homecoming

  Maliyah sat glued to the cushion of her first-class seat. She pierced the fine leather with her newly manicured fingernails. Her head pounded as if she’d been beaten with a sledgehammer and her stomach lurched at the slightest hint of turbulence. Ever since 9/11, she’d been terrified of flying. That was the one of the reasons Maliyah Aziz had kept her civilian job working for the U.S. government in Italy for more than a decade. Even while her mother and close friends in Miami begged her to move back home, she just couldn’t quite muster up the nerve to fly again.

  It had always been Maliyah’s dream to live and work in Europe. Ever since she spent a semester in Rome as a high school exchange student, it was the only thing she could think about. She graduated at age sixteen. Then she completed her computer science degree at MIT in four years, and took the position at Naval Air Station Sigonella as a technical analyst without a second thought. But shortly after she accepted the job off the coast of Sicily, the twin towers of the World Trade Center crumbled into a monstrous heap of twisted iron and rubble. Mailyah vowed never to travel via airplane again.

  That promise hadn’t been too hard to keep. A self-described workaholic, Sigonella’s captivating seascapes and warm-hearted hospitality left her with little idle time on her hands. There was only one unfortunate drawback. Maliyah missed her family and friends terribly, especially her mother Celeste. But the stubborn woman refused to pack up and move to the tiny Sicilian town even though she lived alone in South Florida.

  Celeste D’Agostino al Aziz could be the most pig-headed person on earth when she wanted to be. Unequivocally beautiful and fiercely independent, Mrs. D’Agostino al Aziz had the power to turn heads and make strangers listen to whatever she had to say. She’d had her choice of suitors. In fact, those close to her were stunned by her decision to elope with a virtual stranger, a foreigner at that. No one could believe the gusty girl from the Bronx would marry an affluent Egyptian businessman who was accustomed to subservient females falling at his feet.

  While Celeste enjoyed her role as wife and mother, she refused to let her job as a freelance journalist take a backseat, a fact that remained a thorn in her husband’s side. Her work took her to the farthest regions of the world. She covered everything from the Olympic Games in Barcelona to Operation Desert Storm in Afghanistan. Such an itinerant lifestyle made Maliyah’s fear of flying seem all the more ridiculous. Still, she couldn’t quite calm the ominous tension in her shoulders or the knot in the pit of her belly during the entire two hour and thirty-nine minute flight to Cairo.

  It if wasn’t for her father’s sudden heart attack and subsequent death, Maliyah would never have gotten on an airplane to begin with. Nonetheless, she popped a Xanax exactly as her doctor instructed and boarded the flight without putting up too much of a fuss.

  It’d been more than twenty years since she last stepped foot on Egyptian soil. Too long. Still, she could remember quite clearly the picturesque beauty of its desert landscape. Rolling hills of honey-hued sand. Elaborate figurines intricately carved into rock and marble. Yet it was the overwhelming sense of love and acceptance she’d experienced from communing with her father’s people that remained etched permanently into her subconscious. They held the most significance to her.

  Maliyah’s first and only visit to the city nestled along the Nile River took place two decades past, a year before her parents’ bitter divorce. She had turned nine years old a few months prior. She could scarcely recall a more happy and carefree time in her life. Maybe that’s because the next summer, her content existence shattered into a million irretrievable pieces.

  Maliyah adored her mother. But their relationship was nothing like the unbreakable bond she shared with her father, Anwar al Aziz. They were like two peas in a pod – kindred spirits who could practically read each other’s thoughts. As an only child, Maliyah was the apple of her father’s eye. His whole world wrapped up in an adorable brown-haired, green-eyed, freckle-faced angel.

  Divorce can be tough on any child, but Maliyah took it especially hard. Anwar al Aziz, the man she worshipped and adored was gone – ejected from her life like a soccer star who had received more than his fair share of penalties on the playing field. Unfortunately, Maliyah had been too young to comprehend the rules of the game. Although her mother retained primary physical custody, Anwar visited several times a year during business trips to the United States. While the love Maliyah felt for her father remained unconditional, the once-unflappable father-daughter bond they shared became somewhat strained.

  Over the years, Maliyah turned sympathetic to her mother’s plight, and more and more detached from her father. She loved them both, but came to understand Celeste’s reason for filing for divorce. The male-dominated Egyptian culture could be rather unfair to women. In addition to differences in upbringing, their careers took a toll on the marriage, too. With her mother’s work and Anwar’s import/export business headquartered in Egypt, they took turns caring for their only daughter. When one of them left on business, the other would stay home and serve as Maliyah’s primary caretaker. They never spent much time together as a couple. No wonder their romance eventually fizzled out.

  “Ma’am. Please lift up your tray table. The captain has turned on the seat belt sign.” The straight-laced flight attendant with the perfectly coiffed hairdo and tailored navy-blue suit smiled down at her, jostling her from her errant thoughts.

  Maliyah nodded, then collected the array of fashion magazines she’d brought along to keep her occupied on the trip and tucked them neatly into her carry-on bag. As the aircraft began to descend, Maliyah’s heart beat wildly in her chest. Her palms grew moist with perspiration. Sweat drizzled down the sides of her face.

  Freakin’ Xanax isn’t even taking off the edge.

  She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and exhaled as the wheels of the plane hit the concrete runway. While her back and shoulders gave her tightly coiled muscles a slight reprieve, Maliyah’s stomach nearly tossed up the pasta salad she’d eaten for lunch. Thank goodness she sat in first class. Otherwise she might not have made it out of the plane in time to get to the lavatory.

  “Pardon me,” Maliyah said as she rushed past the throng of impatient travelers trying to exit the airplane. Quickly, she ran to the restroom and frowned at her pale, lifeless reflection in the mirror. Her hair looked like a rat’s nest. Dark circles masked the area around her eyes. She splashed cold water on her cheeks and sighed as her stomach slowly calmed.

  How in the hell am I supposed to meet Salma and Husani looking like this?

  What would her Egyptian cousins think of her when she arrived looking like death warmed over? Would they even recognize her? Maliyah smoothed the wrinkles out of her yellow cotton frock and headed toward the baggage claim.

  As she passed the luggage carousel, she spotted a couple that peered eagerly over
the towering heads of several foreign dignitaries. The woman swiveled her head sideways. Her silky, blue-black tresses slightly obscured her classical features from view. She had a sharp, patrician nose, high cheek bones and the intelligent, yellow-green gaze of an alley cat. Maliyah would recognize that face anywhere. A year younger, her cousin Salma’s radiant beauty remained unsurpassed.

  Dogging closely on Salma’s heels was her older brother Husani. His intense brown eyes bored into her. He was a tall, broad-shouldered brute sporting an overgrown five o’clock shadow. His abrasive demeanor matched his gruff exterior. He stood behind his sister, arms folded tersely across the wide expanse of his chest. An impenetrable force. But Maliyah knew better than to be fooled by his appearance. Husani may have grown into the tall, handsome man that stood a few yards away. Nonetheless, he was still the boy she ran to when life led her astray. He’d been her confidant ever since she could remember.

  Maliyah squared her shoulders and plastered a fake smile on her face before she waved her hand in the air to get their attention. Her mind swam with heartfelt reminders of her long-forgotten childhood trip to Cairo, and the countless hours spent aimlessly roaming the desert hills with her cousins. Yet coming home to the land of her father’s people left a metallic taste in her mouth. It also let other bittersweet memories of her childhood rise to the surface. Reopened like a fresh wound.

  “Maliyah!” Salma shouted. Her bright eyes and caramel complexion beamed from across the expansive airport. She ran to Maliyah and wrapped her slender arms around her shoulders in a tight squeeze. “It seems like an eternity since I’ve seen you.”

  “I know. I’ve missed you so much. I’m sorry I stayed away for so long.” The unsteady cadence of Maliyah’s voice as she whispered the words revealed her unbridled emotion. She’d somehow been able to keep it together until that moment.

  In her peripheral vision, she noted Husani’s sympathetic gaze. He came up from behind to comfort both women in his warm embrace. Maliyah turned to look at him and she lost it. Her eyes flooded with tears, too many to hold back. It was the first time she’d cried since hearing the news of her father’s death.

  “It’s okay, honey. Let it out.” Husani breathed the words into Maliyah’s hair. “You’re home now.” For the first time in years, she felt like it, too. Safe. Familiar. Accepted unconditionally.

  Maliyah didn’t know why she’d waited until that instant to fall apart. Maybe it was because her cousins understood a thing or two about loss. After all, her father’s brother, Shahad, had abandoned them as mere infants. He’d left their young, destitute mother to fend for herself with two small children. If it hadn’t been for the kind generosity of Maliyah’s father, who knew what would have befallen them? Unfortunately, that wasn’t the end of their suffering. Years later their mother Aunt Fatima drowned, a casualty of the floods that devastated the Nile River Valley in the late nineties.

  “Let’s get you back to the house. You must be famished.” Salma grabbed her by the hand and led them to the limousine stationed outside. That’s another thing she’d missed. Her father’s family had plenty of money to go around. Still, they weren’t flashy about it unless it was absolutely necessary. After battling her nerves the entire flight from Italy, Maliyah needed the comfort and luxury their wealth afforded her. She sank back into the seat and let its cushion encase her in soft, pliable fabric.

  “I’m just going to close my eyes for a few minutes. I don’t know why, but I’m totally exhausted,” Maliyah said, not wanting to appear rude. Jet lag began to sink in. But more than that, she wasn’t ready to talk about father’s death.

  After a while, Husani nudged Maliyah awake. The limousine skidded to a halt in front of a modern stucco-clad home on a tree-lined street in the Cairo suburbs. She turned and leaned into the seat, still drowsy.

  “Salma, bring Maliyah inside and show her to her room. I think she needs to rest a bit longer. I’ll have her bags brought up momentarily.” Her cousin obliged and helped her out of the car. As she stepped out, the fierce desert heat hit her. The sand swirled around as she lifted a hand to cover her face from its harsh abrasiveness. In the distance, there was a building. It looked like an apartment complex. Funny, she hadn’t remembered seeing it during her last trip, but then again, a lot could change in twenty years. She could have sworn she saw a man peering down at her from the balcony of the three-story structure. Nonetheless, Maliyah shrugged off the feeling of uneasiness that crept up inside her and turned toward the house.

  Her father’s home remained exactly as it had been the last time she’d visited. Rarely one to flaunt his wealth, the simple elegance of its muted stucco exterior made Maliyah smile. Her dad was a modest man from humble beginnings. He’d had never forgotten that fact. As Maliyah passed the iron gates and crossed the threshold of the house, she was inundated with the familiar aromas of her homeland. The spread waiting for them on the dining table looked like a feast fit for a king. Savory lamb kabobs garnished with baba ghannoug made her mouth water. The smell of fresh baked eish masri, or pita bread as it was called back in the States, wafted through the air. An array of ripe figs and dates were laid out on the table in a festive arrangement, too.

  “I think my nap can wait. The food smells wonderful.” Maliyah’s stomach growled in anticipation. She hadn’t had a home-cooked Egyptian meal since her father visited her in Italy last spring.

  Salma called to Anat, the nanny who had been a constant presence in the Aziz household for years. The short, stout woman with the sun-weathered countenance came into the room carrying a handful of plates and cutlery. She saw Maliyah and quickly set the items down on the dining table.

  “Maliyah, my sweet child. You look exactly as I envisioned.” The old woman smiled as she caressed Maliyah’s cheek with her wrinkled hand. Then, her expression changed. Her soft brown eyes appeared sad as she lowered her voice so only Maliyah could hear. “Your father loved you with all his heart and soul. He was so very proud of you.” Her father. She still couldn’t believe he was gone. Maliyah gave Anat a firm hug and shook off her melancholy thoughts before she sat down to eat.

  The three cousins enjoyed the delicious home-cooked meal in mere minutes and before long, Maliyah had no choice but to acknowledge the elephant in the room. She peered up into Husani’s eyes and waited for him to break the silence.

  He swallowed the last bite of food and cleared his throat. “I know you only just arrived. But we need to discuss the details of your father’s burial.” Maliyah nodded, gesturing for him to proceed. “Tomorrow we travel by car to the sacred pool of Amun. There Uncle Anwar’s body will be washed and prepared for entombment in the family crypt.”

  “Thank you for taking care of the details, cousin. I’m not sure I could handle it all by myself. Even though I attended his mother, our teta’s funeral when I was a child, I’m certainly no expert on Egyptian burial practices.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Salma’s lips move. She seemed to silently mouth words to her brother from her spot at the table. Maliyah stared back and forth between them. The hairs on the back of her neck rose as a peculiar sensation washed over her. There was something they weren’t telling her. They held back vital information.

  “What are you keeping from me?” Maliyah asked. She loved and trusted her cousins without question. So why did she suddenly feel like an outsider looking in?

  Salma pressed her mouth closed and let her gaze fall to the floor. Husani cocked his head and shot Maliyah a half-hearted grin. “I don’t want you to worry. It’s probably nothing.”

  “What is it, Husani? Is it about my father’s death?”

  Salma, who was seated between the two of them at the kitchen table, took hold of Maliyah’s hand and squeezed it in reassurance. After a terse moment of silence, she turned her attention back to her brother.

  “She has a right to know.”

  Using two fingers, he massaged his temples and let out an audible sigh. Then he stood and moved around to Maliyah’s ot
her side. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder. Before he spoke, he glanced around the corner, making sure the maid had disappeared out of sight.

  “Maliyah, don’t be alarmed. But as a precaution, I ordered an autopsy on your father’s body.”

  “But why? He had a heart attack. End of story.” She wanted to believe that was the case, although deep down her subconscious didn’t fully comprehend the possibility. Bile rose up in her throat and she tasted the bitter flavor of death and betrayal regurgitate in her mouth.

  “Yes, that’s what Salma and I were told as well. However, we have to be sure. Uncle Anwar was a wealthy and powerful man. He had quite a few enemies in the business world. Men that would have profited from his death.” Husani’s voice remained slow and steady, his posture unchanged as if he was trying not to show any undue emotion.

  “So you’re saying that someone might have murdered my father?”

  Chapter Two

  The Stalker

  Ramses Shakir stood on the balcony of the third-story apartment overlooking the serenity of the Nile Delta. He could hear the gentle ebb and flow of its rushing waters as he peered in through the window of the quaint, tan-stucco home across the street. Luckily, he’d brought along a pair of military-grade binoculars to make the task a bit easier. It was after sunset. Still, a drop of sweat slid down his forehead and fell into his eyes, clouding his vision even through the high-powered lenses. Perspiration formed between the shoulder blades of his bare, muscular torso. Dark, wavy locks clung to his scalp and hung in damp ringlets down his half-naked frame. In the scorching heat of the Sahara desert, most days shirts were optional. Today proved no exception.