Now the ceremonial beetle was in her possession and she could almost feel it burning through her sleeve. She cursed under her breath. Olive hadn’t spent ten years getting her Ph.D. to become a tomb raider. She loved her father but she hated him for putting her in the position where she had to ignore her moral compass. This would be the first and last time she compromised her integrity.
The cab ride back to the hotel passed in silence; the driver had barely given her a second glance. Olive waited until she was safely in her room to let the scarab fall from her sleeve. It was small enough to fit in her palm. She didn’t really understand why Xavier wanted to possess something he would have to keep a secret. He’d never be able to display it.
While slipping off her shoes, she dialed her father’s number. As expected, the call went to voicemail. His cheery prompt requested her to leave a message and that he’d get back to her at his most early convenience.
“Call me.” There was no way she’d leave a detailed voicemail, but he would know by the tone of her voice that his request had been fulfilled.
The heart scarab had been intricately carved from obsidian, and tiny flecks of gold gave the oval object a slight sparkle in the lamplight. Olive traced her finger over the perfect shape of the wings and the beetle’s head. Great care and effort were put into the gifts that would travel into the afterlife with the dead; that made it all the more deplorable that she’d taken it.
The bottom of the scarab bore hieroglyphs, a message from The Book of the Dead instructing the deceased not to confess to any wrongdoing when facing the weighing of the heart ceremony. The ancient Egyptians believed that knowledge of their doings, both good and bad, were stored in the heart after death. The amulet was intended to weigh heavy on the chest and keep the organ silent during judgment by the tribunal of gods, particularly Osiris; it was also a symbol of resurrection. Despite her father’s belief that it was a small relic, it was significant.
The superstitions surrounding the burial and mummification undertaking were what had drawn Olive into archeology; the history and mysticism kept her interested. Taking such a precious and important relic weighed heavily on her conscience, and went against the respect she had for the process. Although the fallacies had never taken root with her, the person buried there had believed in them and desecrating someone’s sacred belief didn’t feel right.
Olive studied the beetle for a few minutes before she stowed it inside a tissue in the top drawer of her nightstand. The heart scarab seemed less valuable than the other grave goods. There had been gold jewelry and animals carved of jade and feldspar. Perfectly glazed pottery was scattered about the tomb. To be honest, all the items were priceless. Why had Wells asked for that one in particular?
The long hot shower did wonders for the sticky grime on her skin, but she still felt dirty when she slipped between the sheets. She would keep the scarab safe for the next two days until Xavier Wells arrived in Egypt.
Sleep came easily due to sheer exhaustion from the heat and long hours in the dark, but the slumber wasn’t peaceful. Olive dreamed of men dressed in ancient battle gear. White linen against dark skin. She’d been stripped naked and laid out on a stone table, and the people babbled in a dead language as they formed a circle around her. Dark kohl lined their eyes as they all stared at her in judgment.
The green face of Osiris appeared over her as if he were standing on a tall stool. His eyes bore the same kohl liner as the others, and his beard was wrapped in black ribbon. Despite his strange complexion, he was beautiful with flawless skin and bright eyes.
Next to Osiris, the long, dark snout of a jackal loomed. Blood dripped from the still-beating heart Anubis held. Olive was being subjected to the weighing of the heart ceremony and hers was heavier than a brick.
Tears burned her eyes, but she remained quiet under the steady gazes of the judge and the jury. Admitting what she’d done would result in harsh punishment. The Egyptian gods weren’t known for their mercy.
A loud ringing echoed in the chamber and bounced off the stone walls. Anubis looked over his shoulder and squeezed the heart so that a drop of blood landed on Olive’s chest. She watched as a green beetle crawled over her breast. The ringing grew louder and she snapped open her eyes. Her breathing was labored and she touched her chest, grateful to feel the soft cotton of her pajamas. After a moment, she realized the ringing was her phone on the nightstand. She picked it up and saw her dad’s face on the screen.
“Hello.” Olive’s mouth was dry and she licked her lips.
“Hello, darling.” Casper Prentiss had a voice as smooth as silk. Olive suspected it was that voice and his good looks that helped him sell million dollar paintings to elderly women with money to burn. Her father was an opportunist. In light of the current predicament, she wondered how many forgeries he’d gotten away with selling. Had a shady deal funded her college education? That was a question she didn’t want to know the answer to.
“Hi, Daddy.”
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Yes. I’m fine.”
“You sound winded.”