Reawakened by Houck Colleen

Author:Houck, Colleen [Houck, Colleen]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9780385376563
Publisher: Random House Children's Books
Published: 2015-08-11T05:00:00+00:00

The emotions I sensed coming from him were confusing. Regret mixed with a deep-seated yearning was paired with frustration. I couldn’t even form a response to a statement as touching as his. Men didn’t talk like that. Not real, flesh-and-blood men, anyway.

What he’d just said to me was swashbuckling-guy-gets-the-girl, ride-off-into-the-sunset-together level of charm. I didn’t think it was possible for him to actually mean what he said.

“Where’d you get that one? Off the inside of a sarcophagus?”

Amon shrugged but wouldn’t look at me. “Those feelings are the truth,” he finally admitted.

I studied his face, but there was not even a hint of humor in his expression.

“Oh,” I said lamely. “Well, thank you.”

Amon grunted, leaning back against the seat as he closed his eyes. Before too long the driver pulled over and pointed to a nice stucco house. We got out, and Amon’s fingers clung to mine as he leaned in the window to talk with the taxi driver. Because Amon seemed to be taking his time conversing, I wriggled my fingers out of his and pried the keys from his other hand. He gave me a brief look that said Don’t wander too far and turned back to his conversation.

I walked up the short drive to the house, grateful for the trees shading the path. The large sycamores provided a respite not only from the heat but also from the glare of the sun. Osahar Hassan’s home was a small two-story, each floor with an overhang of interlocking red tiles.

Finding the right key, I unlocked the door and stepped inside. Despite the many large windows, the sun wasn’t too intense, so the house wasn’t too hot. Upon closer inspection, I saw that the windows were covered with a dark film that probably deflected the sun’s rays.

Though the outside of the home appeared clean and pristine, all boxy lines and sun-swept tile, the interior was completely different. Every surface was cluttered with Egyptian treasures, from crackling parchment covered in colorful brushstrokes to large carvings. The knickknacks and collectibles were scattered haphazardly, with no design aesthetic whatsoever, and most of them needed a serious dusting. I wasn’t able to tell if they were replicas or the real thing, but I suspected that a man given the responsibility of grand vizier over a centuries-old group of priests might have access to things others did not.

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