Page 53 of Edge of Darkness (Night Prowler 4)
“Okay,” he said, “ten minutes.” Then there was another pause as if he were gathering his thoughts. Finally he said, “Do you know the story behind the Sphinx?”
“You mean the statue in Egypt?”
“Yes.”
“Well…not really, no.”
“It’s one of the world’s largest and oldest statues, its origins lost in the mists of time. Popular theory has it the Sphinx was built in approximately 2500 BC by the pharaoh Khafra as part of the funerary complex of the great pyramids at Giza. The commonly used name ‘Sphinx’ was given to it in antiquity—long after it was built—in reference to the Greek mythological beast with a lion’s body, a woman’s head and the wings of an eagle. Its real name has never been discovered because it was built so long ago, but the modern Egyptian Arabic name for the statue is The Terrifying One.”
Though she didn’t know why, that struck Ember as important: The Terrifying One. A little shiver went up her spine.
As Christian continued, his voice dropped to a spare, lilting murmur. “But that statue wasn’t built by Khafra in 2500 BC. And though it was named the Sphinx, it doesn’t have the body of a lion.”
The air seemed suddenly to crackle with static. “No?” Ember whispered.
“No. It was built a thousand years before, by worshippers of a queen the humans at that time considered a divinity who lived among them. And like the divinity they worshipped, the statue is part human…and part panther.”
The breath left Ember’s body in a small, soundless rush. He went on, and all the tiny hairs on her body began, one by one, to stand on end.
“My kind has been here since the beginning of everything. Native to the darkest heart of the African rainforest, we were predators who excelled at that most necessary of animal survival techniques: camouflage. We could change form to match any environment or mimic any prey, we could even dissolve completely into the mist that was a constant of the rainforest. We lived in a perfect, peaceful bubble for thousands upon thousands of years, co-existing with all the other creatures of the land.”
His voice darkened. “Until one day a different sort of creature appeared. It crawled from the mud, gasping air into amphibious lungs. That little muddy fish would change our fates forever.”
Ember had a moment of confusion, then in a flash of clarity realized he was talking about people. “Fish?” she repeated, disgusted. “You’re telling me I’m descended from a fish?”
“You’d rather it was a monkey?” he asked, his voice dry. “And if it makes you feel better, you’re not descended from a fish—your ancient ancestors were.”
Neither of those answers seemed satisfactory, so Ember remained silent. Christian’s arm tightened around her, and he began to speak again.
“The new arrivals evolved quickly. Once they’d advanced to the point where they had fire, stone tools, and the first, raw grasp of language, we made ourselves known to them. Which turned out to be a colossal mistake.”
Ember whispered, “Why?”
“Think about it. Even now the human world is a hard place to live if you’re different. Think about your friend Asher. What do you think life has been like for him?”
Hard. His life—until he learned to accept himself and found a soulmate in Sebastian—had been hard. And then after Sebastian had died—harder. Ember knew it was part of the reason the two of them got along so well; they had both suffered for years.
Misery loves company.
“So we were hunted. Because humans bred like rabbits, there were many, many more of them than there were of us, and we were almost driven extinct. That’s when we learned our most clever disguise of all.”
Ember turned her head and looked at him over her shoulder. Christian smiled down at her, dazzling in all his perfection. He touched a finger to her nose. “We learned how to look like you.”
Her mouth dropped open.
“We built human homes, raised human crops, hunted with human spears, and kept very quietly to ourselves. Eventually, after lifetimes of hiding and pretending, there was a truce. And lifetimes after that, we were once again living in the open with humans. So successfully it looked as if we might actually be able to live in the open, forever.” His voice grew dry. “Until Cleopatra, of course.”
Ember blinked, confused. “What—the Cleopatra?”
“The very same. She was one of us, one of the most powerful Queens our kind has ever seen. Cunning, too, that one. And, unfortunately, ambitious.”
He sighed, and Ember waited breathlessly.
“Well, you probably know the story. When Cleopatra seduced Mark Antony, she eventually managed to turn him against Caesar Augustus, the ruler of Rome, which was, at that time, the epicenter of the civilized world. She wanted to rule the entire planet, you see. She wanted the Ikati back on top of the food chain, so to speak. But the coup failed. The Queen and her lover died. And her Ikati kin—who by that time were being outright worshipped all over Egypt as gods—were hunted once again. We were declared witches, enemies of Caesar, and enemies of the state. We were driven from our homeland, nearly all of us were killed.
“The few who remained formed small, hidden colonies in wooded places around the world, places cloaked in silence and secrecy. We retreated to the old ways of pretending and lying, of keeping to ourselves. And that’s how it has remained…” His voice grew bitter. “Until one of us decided it was time to return to being worshipped by humans, instead of hiding from them.”
With that, Ember remembered in startling detail the video she’d seen, the scary, black-eyed man/not-man who’d killed all those people at the Vatican. Who’d killed the pope himself.
