Ifza pushed off the surgical suite’s door and closed the short distance between it and the adjacent examination room. It was where her brother had set up shop. He had spent the last day, since arriving from Cairo with Baahir, preparing for his part in the transition.
Ifza took a deep breath and turned the doorknob. It quietly opened to reveal a low-lit space beyond. The only light within the room was a ring of candles encircling her brother.
He was kneeling in the center of the circle, wearing nothing except a traditional shendyt. The kilt-like garment was standard attire for a wide variety of social classes from ancient times but was typically worn by nobles or those from the upper class.
Khaliq’s was constructed out of the finest silk, instead of linen, as was the custom, and was incredibly soft to the touch. He wore a crown on his bald head that featured the jackal head of Anubis, and his neck and wrists were adorned with jewelry made of pure gold. He certainly did look like a Egyptian pharaoh.
And every king had an enforcer. That was Ifza’s calling. When her brother needed something special done, she went out and did it personally. She loved being involved and getting her hands dirty. Ifza didn’t know anything else. She had been trained in the art of warfare since the day she could walk.
“Ifza,” Khaliq said, motioning to the floor next to him, “come, sit beside me.”
The stoic killer straightened her posture and marched forward. The air in the room was unnerving. Heat radiated from a small, electric stovetop. Resting atop it was a familiar stone bowl. The two-thousand-year-old, hand-cut artifact had been the oldest heirloom in the Ayad family tree until the canopic jar resurfaced.
Ifza took her place on her brother’s right hand and settled in on her knees like him. Khaliq raised a sack similar to the one she had used on Grant and handed it to her. But instead of it housing a man’s head, this one contained something infinitely more valuable. Carefully, she procured the Anubian jar and admired it in the light. Just holding it gave her the chills, despite the warmth of the room.
“I give you the honors,” Khaliq said, holding open the sack. “Tonight, we see if what our family has stood for is true, or not.”
Ifza slipped the irreplaceable piece of antiquity back into the sack and stood. She tied the open end shut with a simple leather strap and looked to her brother for confirmation.
Khaliq nodded once.
She stepped away from the stove and lifted the jar above her head, picturing it in all its glory. Then, with a savage growl, she slammed the precious artifact onto the floor, picking it up and doing it again and again until it was damaged beyond repair. Eyes wide and out of breath, she presented the ruined jar back to her brother, who gleefully accepted the offer.
Khaliq set the bag down and untied it. He reached in and picked out a piece no larger than a Ping-Pong ball. The chunk went into a second, larger stone bowl, and the thickly built Scales of Anubis leader went about grinding it into a fine powder with nothing more than his strength and will and a cylindrical grinding stone. He placed the second bowl between his knees to hold it in place and then got to work.
Ifza was amazed by how quickly he got into a rhythm. She silently watched, biting her lip as he got closer and closer to completing the millennia-old task. Neither one of them knew exactly what would cause the transition to take place. To the naked eye, it was just another piece of volcanic rock. Even Anubis’ teachings didn’t properly describe it.
Dripping sweat and panting like a dog, Khaliq set down the grinding stone and lifted the larger of the two bowls above his head. In between heavy breaths, he said a prayer to Anubis and to their ancestors to guide them on their next journey. If this worked, it would only be the beginning.
Khaliq poured the powdered stone into the boiling water within the Ayad family bowl. The liquid within it instantly turned to an inky black, and it swirled with a shimmer that typically came from precious metals. There was definitely something else in the igneous rock besides solidified magma.
Khaliq lifted the bowl above his head and said one last prayer before bringing the steaming bowl to his lips. With wild, untamable eyes, Khaliq took a sip and closed his eyes. According to the legend, the deadly concoction would begin its work within seconds of entering the human body.
He offered the bowl to Ifza. She swallowed her rising fear and accepted it.
“Do not be afraid, sister,” Khaliq said. “We were born for this.”
Ifza always loved the idea of being immune to a deadly plague, but now, here, with it right in front of her… She shut up her mind and followed in her brother’s footsteps and drank.
“Come.” Khaliq stood. “We need more blood.”
“I have the perfect test subject.” She frowned and picked up a piece of the broken jar. “We also need more hellstone.”
Khaliq smiled. “Yes, our subject will help with that too.”
