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BLOOD CHASED
THE HALF BLOODS
BOOK 2
MILLY TAIDEN
 CONTENTS

About the Book

Blood Chased

1. Valentine
2. Nero
3. Valentine
4. Nero
5. Valentine
6. Nero
7. Valentine
8. Nero
9. Valentine
10. Nero
11. Valentine
12. Nero
13. Valentine
14. Nero
15. Valentine
16. Nero
17. Valentine
18. Nero
19. Valentine
20. Valentine
21. Nero
22. Valentine
23. Nero
24. Valentine
25. Nero
26. Valentine
27. Nero
28. Valentine

About the Author

Also by Milly Taiden
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are fictitious or have been used fictitiously, and are not to be
construed as real in any way. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental.

Published By
Latin Goddess Press
Winter Springs, FL 32708
http://millytaiden.com
Blood Chased
Copyright © 2023 by Milly Taiden

All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except
in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Property of Milly Taiden
October 2023

Created with Vellum

 ABOUT THE BOOK

Alpha wolf Nero Greenlee is a busy sheriff. He doesn’t have time to do a daily wellness check on
Valentine Longborn. The Half-Blood locked herself in a cabin. The moment he lays eyes on her, he
understands what Valentine is to him. The beautiful half-blood is not what he expected for a mate.
Celestine needs help finding her sister. She’s willing to do anything to find her. Even partner with
an alpha shifter hotter than sin. A shifter who makes her question everything in her life, including
being alone. Nero might be the most irritatingly handsome wolf she’s ever met, but she needs
him.
Nero has no clue why, but he can’t keep away from Valentine. Fate might have sent him a mate,
but before he can convince her they belong together, Nero agrees to help Valentine save her sister.
Between a rogue sibling and an angry vampire council, Nero has his work cut out for him, but no
one ever said falling for a Half-Blood was easy.
BLOOD CHASED
 THE HALF BLOODS 2

NEW YORK TIMES and USA TODAY BESTSELLING AUTHOR

MILLY TAIDEN
 —For my readers.

Thank you for your support!

ONE
 VALENTINE

“I ’ve never been angrier. In my whole life, I have never been this angry. CALL. ME. NOW!”
Valentine smashed her phone down as she ended the call.
It wasn’t the first message she’d left for her sister, Lilliane, and honestly, it wouldn’t be the last.
Even though a full month had passed since Lilliane had willingly … actually, chosen … to leave with
the remaining members of the vampire council, Valentine was still pissed.
Angry. Pissed. Reeling. Enter the rage emotion here, and she was feeling it with no end in sight.
Every time she thought the anger could pass or at least let her do something other than mope, she
would have a memory of Lil doing something dumb or silly to make her laugh, and then Valentine
would be mad all over again.
She couldn’t stand herself anymore. She was sure no one else wanted to be around her either.
She’d stopped answering the phone … though if Lil called, she would pick up. The issue was that
Lilliane hadn’t called her. Her older sister, Celestine, hadn’t stopped calling.
She hadn’t stopped dropping by either.
Ceecee was there every day. Always with some lame-ass reason that made Valentine angry. If
Celestine came by with waffles from Tails and Syrup, Val didn’t answer. If her sister left a box of
goodies on the front porch, Val waited until it was dark to drag the thing inside.
Celestine had even brought a lawn chair … leaving Val her preferred seat of the rocking chair …
and sat on the porch for a full morning, but Val hadn’t joined her.
It was too hard.
She couldn’t imagine sitting out there with Ceecee when Lil wouldn’t be there.
By her own choice …
Who chose to leave their sisters for insane vampires who would marry you off to whichever loser
vamp who wanted to make an alliance with the father? Who did that?
No one who Valentine knew of.
Lilliane and Valentine had always understood each other. Sure, the three sisters were close, but
there was always a special bond between Val and Lil. Maybe it was because Celestine took the role
of big sister really seriously, and she always said that she had to protect them.
It left Val and Lil feeling like a bit of a burden.
They would chat and giggle all night long together until Celestine would come into their bedroom
and give them crap for being up too late … and for keeping her up.
Their late-night chatter wasn’t always logical or even useful. Sometimes, they would spend hours
thinking up their perfect dream relationships and the dream guys they would have them with.
At the time, falling in love was an impossible thing they would never be able to do since they
were Half-Bloods who weren’t even supposed to exist.
Maybe in their conversations, Valentine should have seen the start of Lilliane’s trouble. Because
if Val was honest, those conversations were all her. Lil didn’t much believe in love. She thought it
was a complication.
“You only say that because you think your mom was in love with Sylvester, and that’s what ruined
her life,” Valentine always said like she was chiding her beloved little sister.
Knowing what she knew now, perhaps she would have used a different tone to deliver that
message. Maybe she wouldn’t even have said it at all.
Maybe Valentine had pushed Lilliane right into the vampire council’s arms with all her talk of
impossible romance.
“Love didn’t just ruin my mother’s life,” Lil would insist. “It ruined hers and mine. Yours and
Celestine’s, too.”
“That wasn’t love. That was a vampire looking to get his jollies off with a human with no regard
for human life.”
“Do you even know what love is?” Lil would ask like they were talking about a mythical creature.
“Sure I do. It’s a powerful thing that makes you feel good even when life is stupid-hard.”
“And how are you supposed to recognize it?”
“The first kiss is always the most important,” Valentine had said with all the authority of a big
sister. “The first kiss has to take you by surprise. The guy is just so blown away by how beautiful and
sweet and perfect you are that he cannot help himself. He just kisses you, and then that’s it. You’re
done.”
“Don’t be smart,” Lil had snorted. “No one should lose their minds over a single kiss. That is
stupid-stupid. And that’s what makes life stupid-hard. Keep your wits about you.”
It was the thing they disagreed on. The only thing. It was the only thing between the two sisters
that wasn’t understood. And that’s why Lilliane had left.
She didn’t think she could be in love. She didn’t think it was important, and so she was okay with
being married off to a vamp for power.
Was that real?
Maybe.
Was Valentine making up stories because she didn’t know what else to think?
Absolutely.
What else could she think? Lilliane had left without a word or any sort of explanation that made
sense. There was very little Val could do but stew in her misery and try to find the reason for her
sister’s insanity.
There was nothing else to do because Valentine was short on options. She couldn’t chase after
Lilliane because she didn’t know where her sister was. She might still be in the country, seeing as
how none of the Longborn sisters were allowed to have a passport.
Valentine could’ve driven to every Longborn estate in the country, but then what was she
supposed to do? Force her sister into the car and drive away? It had taken a full wolf pack with two
more waiting in the background to get rid of the vampire council the first time.
Val was a lone Half-Blood.
Her resources were limited, and no one else seemed too interested in saving Lilliane from
herself.
So Val moped. She moped like it was the only thing she could do, and she hoped that the more ice
cream and sulking she did, the perfect rescue idea would present itself.
Val had to believe that love … real and true sisterly love … would bring her sister back.
TWO
 NERO

N ero’s favorite place in the whole world was his front porch. He sat there in the wooden swing
or the wicker rocking chair every morning with a cup of coffee, looking out at the woods that
were his.
The forest was his to protect and defend, and every member of the Greenlee pack was also his
responsibility. He took that role seriously.
In the last month, that role had been tested by the arrival of a vampire council in the next town
over, and Nero and his wolves had helped another pack protect what was theirs. It made him proud,
which, in turn, made his morning contemplation on the front porch that much sweeter.
The silence was blissful. Though there wasn’t actually any silence. The forest was too busy to
actually be quiet.
Birds chirped, and little critters scampered around for food. There was also the sound of the
flowing creek and the trees brushing together in the breeze.
It wasn’t quiet, but it might as well be for all the peace it gave him.
The sound of cracking branches made him smile. He only needed to sniff the air to know that
someone was about to disrupt his peaceful morning, and he already knew who it would be.
“Morning, Reece,” he called out.
“Good morning,” the alpha of the Blackwood pack called out as he left the thick line of trees.
Reece sat beside Nero in a wicker chair and sighed heavily.
“That’s a hell of a sentiment for so early in the morning. Don’t tell me the vampire council is
coming back to town.”
“No, thank fuck,” Reece hissed. “I don’t think Celestine would be okay if that were happening.”
“And how is the new Blackwood Alpha Mate? Is she settling into pack life all right?”
His friend grinned. “Yeah, she’s settling in. She’s already buried under a mountain of work. Every
business in Blackwood has commissioned a new logo for their signs. She doesn’t know how long it’ll
take her to get everyone. Years, she figures.”
Nero chuckled. “Has she guessed that it’s the town wolves' way of keeping her in town? And
happy?”
“It took her about two seconds to put that together, but she isn’t going anywhere.”
“That’s good. Keep her happy. You don’t want to deal with an unhappy mate.”
Reece nodded, not needing Nero to explain further. Every wolf for a hundred miles in every
cardinal direction knew what Nero meant. The story was legendary in these parts, though not as
legendary as what had happened to Reece’s parents. Nero’s own parentage was a tad less
complicated, if not just as painful.
 “Actually, the happiness of mates kind of has something to do with why I’m here,” Reece said.
“Shocker,” Nero laughed before sipping his coffee.
“Celestine is happy, but she is very worried about her sister.”
“The one who left?”
“Yeah. Of course, but more immediately, she is concerned for Valentine. She lives in that small
cottage a short walk from here.”
“The border cottage,” Nero nodded. “Is she settling in okay?”
“I have no clue. That’s the problem. Can you do me a favor?” Reece asked.
Nero threw his head back with a laugh. “Another? Didn’t I just help you and your mate with the
whole vampire council thing?”
Reece pursed his lips and shook his head. “Really?”
“Ah, come on, man. I can tease you, can’t I? Now, tell me. What’s this favor you want?”
“Can you check on Valentine? She hasn’t been quite herself since Lilliane agreed to leave with the
vampire council. She won’t even open the door to her sister anymore.”
“What makes you think she’ll talk to me if she doesn’t talk to Celestine?”
“I don’t know. We’ve got to try something. The longer Valentine ignores Celestine, the sadder she
gets. I’ve got to think outside the box here.”
Nero considered it. “I guess it wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility for the sheriff to stop by
and welcome her to town.”
“So you’ll do it.” Not a question. A certainty. A favor between two alphas.
“I’ll do it,” Nero said. “But don’t expect anything.”
“I owe you one, man. I really do.”
He waved off his friend. “No one keeps track of favors around here.”

NERO PARKED his Sheriff’s truck beside the little black sports car and hopped out. He adjusted his
belt, using the car’s window as a reflective surface. The small backseat was littered with wrappers
and empty bottles of water. He grinned at the mess.
This Valentine lady didn’t treat her car with the respect it deserved. He could use that. Maybe
tease her about it.
He slowly climbed up the steps, careful not to tread too loudly and terrify the poor girl. She was,
after all, the daughter of a vampire. She had nearly been kidnapped by a band of idiot vamps.
Nero knocked on the door with a single knuckle and waited.
There was no answer.
His grin turned into a full smile. Reece had warned him that Valentine was being stubbornly
solitary. Nero liked a challenge. It was probably why Reece had asked for Nero’s help.
He knocked again, this time using all his knuckles. The sound was louder and made the screen
door rattle.
He waited.
Nothing.
Huh.
He knocked again, this time with more insistence, but he wasn’t surprised when no one opened the
door. With a sigh, he opened the screen door and tried the main door’s handle. It was locked.
Obviously.
This time, when he knocked, he used his deepest and most authoritative voice. “Ma’am, this is the
sheriff. Open the door.”
The sound of soft footsteps caught his shifter ears, but a lesser … human … man would’ve missed
the hushed tones. He smiled. At least he had her attention now.
“I’ve been asked to do a wellness check. There are some people who are really concerned about
you, ma’am. All you need to do is open the door. Give me a sign of life.” He waited.
In the silence, he could almost imagine Valentine standing on the other side, her head pressed
against the door, wishing him to go away.
Of course, Nero had no clue what Valentine looked like. He wondered if she looked anything like
Celestine, but he decided that Valentine wouldn’t be blonde.
Any woman who was this stubborn was probably a redhead with a fiery temper. Just his type.
Nero leaned against the door frame and took off his hat. “Ma’am, I do have all day.”
“Call me ma’am one more time!” a clear and musical voice called out.
Nero chuckled. “All right, miss. If you don’t open up, I’ll have to huff and puff and blow the door
down.”
“A sheriff shouldn’t be threatening his wolf powers on a member of the public.”
This time, his laughter was a full-belly one. “Funny,” he said through the door. “You’re funny. No
one mentioned you’d be funny.”
“Oh, yeah. I’m a ball of kittens. I’m all kinds of fun. I am not opening the door, so you might as
well just take this inane exchange as a sign of life. And tell my sister she can’t make this better by
sending the law to my door.”
“Celestine didn’t send me. Reece did. Your sister is worried, and that makes him worry. And that
means he comes by my house at dawn when I’m trying to enjoy a peaceful cup of coffee to complain
that his mate is worried.”
“Ha. So you’re not here for a wellness check at all. You’re here because you are being personally
impacted by my personal tragedy. How nice for me that the only reason why anyone cares is because
it cuts into their quiet time.”
He shrugged. The gesture caught him by surprise. Why in the hell was he shrugging as if she could
see him? And why did talking to this woman through a door feel more exciting than any other
exchange with a member of the opposite sex?
“Open the door, Valentine.”
“No. The wellness check is incomplete because I am not well. Tell that to Reece.”
“You leave me no choice but to come back again tomorrow.”
“Whatever. I still won’t answer.”
Nero nodded and skipped down the steps. “We’ll talk soon, Valentine.”
He only walked to his truck when he heard her stomp away, grumbling to herself. He smiled at the
closed door.
He loved a challenge, and this was shaping up to be the good kind.
THREE
 VALENTINE

W hat was a girl supposed to do to get a little peace in this town? It was maddening. Her sister
came by every morning to knock on the door, hoping to see her. Valentine wasn’t ready to talk
to her.
But that was the least of her problems.
At least Celestine had the decency to come by at the same time every day.
It meant Valentine could hang out on her porch, drinking her coffee until she knew her sister was
about to show up.
The sheriff was another story.
There was no way to tell when he would stop by.
Sometimes, it was early in the morning. Other times, it was just before lunch. Sometimes, it was
in the late afternoon.
But the most annoying times were when the sheriff stopped by at dusk. It was never dark enough to
be night, but the setting sun burned the last light hours. It was Valentine’s favorite time to sit on the
porch, and the sheriff robbed her of that.
It made her hate him a little bit. Didn’t he know how annoying he was? Why did he care if she
never left her house again, or if she never saw another human … or wolf or Half-Blood … ever
again?
The only thing that made it better was that he had stopped knocking. He would just call out to her.
“Hey, Valentine. This is a wellness check.” He would then sit on her rocking chair, on her porch,
watching her sunset.
Once he had enough, he would stand, stretch, and say, “See ya tomorrow, Valentine.”
He would drive off, and she would sit on the porch in the seat he had warmed for her. After a
couple of weeks of this, Valentine knew that the sheriff’s name was Nero Greenlee.
He was the Greenlee sheriff and the alpha of his pack. He smelled like strawberries for no
apparent reason. He liked coffee with way too much sugar, judging by the cup he had left for her once.
She also knew that he wouldn’t stop until she opened the door.
It would have been very easy to open the door, show him she was fine, and then never see him
again.
In fact, it was exactly what Valentine should do.
But, somehow, she didn’t want to.
She would never admit this to anyone, but there was something definitely comforting about the
sheriff’s presence. She liked that he hadn’t given up. Surely, he wasn’t coming just for Celestine and
Reece anymore.
 Maybe he had his own reasons for not giving up.
And those reasons gave Valentine plenty to think about. It was a nice break from the things she
had to think about.
Her thoughts weren’t only about Lilliane and why her little sister had lost her mind and decided to
live with a bunch of stuffy old vampires.
Now, she could cut those thoughts with something a little bit more fun.
Maybe the sheriff was lonely because his mate had abandoned him. Maybe he had a broken heart,
and sitting on her porch made him feel like he had a friend. Maybe he was secretly not a wolf, and
while he pretended to go on rounds, he sat on her porch looking at the sun setting.
There were more fanciful things roaming in her mind, but she only let those exist for seconds at a
time. A girl could be a tad insane, but she couldn’t fully lean into the madness.
A man couldn’t fall in love through a door.
Neither could a girl, for that matter.
As if on cue, the sound of tires crunching gravel made her jump. It was the sheriff’s truck pulling
up next to her car. She didn’t dare peek out of the window in case he would spot her. If he did, she
had a feeling he would do the big, bad wolf thing and blow down her front door.
Valentine didn’t have a clue what Sheriff Nero Greenlee looked like, but that didn’t mean she
hadn’t stopped to imagine it a bunch of times. She had spent more than one night in the dark, picturing
the contours of his face, the length of his legs, the color of his hair and eyes.
“Evenin’, Valentine,” he called out before sitting in her rocking chair. “Brought you a bit of a
treat. Well, it’s for me, really. Since you never opened your door, I figured that I’d eat it all by
myself.” He laughed alone. To himself. As if she couldn’t hear him.
Maybe he was insane. Maybe it was a better idea to stay on her side of the door.
“Though I did forget a spoon. Think you could hand me one? Not sure how I’m going to eat this
cookie dough crunch ice cream without a spoon. I guess I could lick it, but eventually, that’s gonna
pose a problem.”
Valentine shook her head in disbelief. Her sister was a traitor. And not the sister who had
abandoned her to go be a vampire bride.
Celestine had told the sheriff her favorite kind of ice cream.
It also happened to be the one snack Valentine could not resist. She would have to, though,
because there was no way she would open the door. Not even for cookie dough crunch ice cream.
“Damn!” the sheriff cried. “I’m making a mess out here. Take pity on a man, would ya? If you
won’t open the door, at least toss a spoon out the window.”
“You could just drive back to your place and eat your ice cream with your own spoon on your
own porch in your own chair. You’re ruining my night.”
“Hey! She can talk! A spoon would be appreciated.”
“So would peace and quiet.”
“Can’t do that.”
“You’re stubborn.”
“Of course I am. I’m a sheriff and a wolf. Stubbornness is just par for the course. How do you
think I’m a good authority figure? I don’t relent. I am gonna sit on your front porch every day until you
open that door. You could always call your sister or just give her a sign of life.”
“Then you’d stop coming?” she called out.
“I’d stop coming,” he promised.
“Fine.” Valentine grabbed her phone and dialed Celestine’s number. “Girl, you need to call off the
dogs.”
“What?” Celestine asked, confused. “Val? Is that you? Are you okay? Can I come by and see you?
I miss you. We should talk.”
“No. I am fine, and I don’t want any company. That’s why I’m calling. Tell your puppy to go
home.”
“My puppy?” Ceecee asked.
“The Greenlee Sheriff. He’s on my porch again. Make him go away.”
“Oh. I didn’t know he was out there.” A hushed conversation between Celestine and Reece was
heard before Ceecee spoke to her again. “Reece asked him to check on you. He’ll text him and tell
him to stop.”
“Good. Thanks.” She hung up and knocked on the closed door like an idiot. She was inside. She
shouldn’t be knocking at all. “You out there?” she called out.
“With my melting ice cream, yeah. Have you decided to take pity on me and give me a spoon?”
“Nope. But you’re about to get a text that will ask you to leave me alone.”
“Yeah, that won’t work.”
She huffed in fury. “What do you mean? Why wouldn’t it work?”
“Because now that someone has asked for a proof of life, it’s not just wolf business. It’s Sheriff's
business, and I can’t let it go.”
“Oh, my fucking god. You are the most impossible man I have ever not met.” She stalked off to the
kitchen, threw the drawer open, grabbed a spoon, and stalked right back to the front door.
Valentine didn’t even hesitate.
She threw the door open and handed a spoon to the sheriff.
Sheriff Nero Greenlee was the very last thing she expected.
He wasn’t just tall. He was massive. Tall and muscular with longish, rich brown hair and the
crispest brown eyes she had ever seen.
He was also the hottest man she had ever seen in her life.
He had no right to be that good-looking. And because he had broken all the rules being that hot,
Valentine decided he needed to be punished.
She pulled the spoon out of his reach and reached for the tub of ice cream instead … right out of
his damn hands. She took a big spoonful, stuffed it into her mouth, and with the ice cream melting on
her tongue, she said, “Thanks.”
She unceremoniously slammed the door in his handsome face, taking the ice cream with her.
FOUR
 NERO

M uch to his surprise, the door flew open.

Nero had been waiting for this moment for days and days. He had only wanted a glimpse
of the Half-Blood Valentine to make sure she was alive and well. It was his job as the sheriff,
but he also wanted to confirm that she hadn’t gone and finished the transition into a full vampire … or
an agoraphobic hermit.
She hadn’t.
Valentine Longborn was not a vampire.
She was, however, the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She wasn’t exactly petite, but she
was still on the short side with just the right amount of curves. Curves he wanted to get his hands on.
But it was her hair that outdid him completely.
The long locks were auburn. The very same color as the sunset burning the sky.
He was so stunned he barely realized she had taken the tub of ice cream out of his hands. He was
mesmerized by her as she took a spoonful of the sweet treat.
And then she slammed the door in his face.
Nero blinked at the closed door and shook his head.
That’s when he heard it. The howling in his head was so loud he couldn’t believe he hadn’t heard
it before.
Maaate! Mate, mate, mate! Maaaaaate!
His jaw was on the floor. His limbs refused to move. He was glued to the spot as his mind spun
with the realization that he had just met his mate. A Half-Blood. A redhead with a desire to be a
hermit. A curvy little number with an attitude.
An ice cream thief and spoon-hog.
“Why are you still here? You saw me. I’m alive and well. And now that I’ve got ice cream, I’m
even better. Thanks for the visit. Now, kindly never come back again,” Valentine shouted from beyond
the door.
Nero blinked at the closed door, his mouth still gaping. How had this happened? How had he been
sitting on this woman’s porch for weeks without realizing she was his mate? Why had it taken seeing
her to catch on?
He had to be the dumbest wolf in the world.
“You’re still out there. Drive away, little wolf.” She spoke with a mouthful of ice cream.
“I’m not leaving,” he called out.
“What? Yeah, you are. You have to. You said all you needed was to see me. Well, now you’ve
seen me.”
 “I need to confirm your identity.”
She snorted and maybe stomped her foot. He couldn’t tell what the little thump had been. “You’ve
got to be shitting me.”
“Nope. Afraid not.” Really, he just wanted to make sure he hadn’t lost his mind. He wanted to
make sure he had indeed just seen his mate.
The door flew open again, and there she stood.
His mate.
She glared at him as she took another bite of his ice cream snack. “I’m Valentine Longborn. I’m
alive and as well as one can be when their best friend and sister abandons them. Is that enough? Do
you need to see my ID? You can …”
Nero would never know what … or how … it happened.
One second, he was standing on the front porch, gaping at the mate he had given up on finding.
The next, he was holding Valentine in his arms, the tub of ice cream smooshed and leaking between
them.
But most importantly, he was kissing her.
Her mouth was sweet and cold from the dessert, but he kissed her. He delved his tongue into her
mouth to taste her. Not the sweet snack.
If Valentine took any offense to being kissed, she didn’t make it obvious. She kissed him right
back.
Until she didn’t.
She shoved hard against his chest, sending the melting ice cream everywhere. “What the hell do
you think you’re doing?”
He shrugged. “You stole my snack. I was trying to get a taste.”
She blinked at him before shaking her head. “You’re nuts. Do you know that? You’re what passes
for a sheriff in this town? Do you usually go around kissing women?”
“It’s a great way to check if they’re alive and well. You are, in case you were wondering. Alive
and well. A hell of a kisser, too.” He grinned at her in the hopes of erasing the anger on her beautiful
face.
It didn’t work.
She continued to glare at him. “You’ve got some nerve.”
“You kissed me right back,” he said.
“Of course I did! You took me by surprise. What was I supposed to do?”
Nero shrugged again. “Not kiss back?”
“You need to leave.”
“What kind of man would I be if I didn’t help you clean the mess you made?” He motioned to the
now spilled tub of ice cream.
“The mess you made,” she shot back. “I did not do this. You came in here and squished my ice
cream! And! And you KISSED ME!”
Nero didn’t bother waiting for an invitation. He walked right to the kitchen and grabbed a wet rag
before kneeling on the porch to wipe away the puddle of ice cream. Valentine was either too shocked
to stop him, or she wanted to see him on his knees. He didn’t care.
“Oh, my god. I think you might be insane. You stalk me. Kiss me. Now you clean up a mess? Have
you seen a doctor lately?”
“I don’t need a doctor. I feel just fine,” he assured her with the best smile he could conjure.
“Do you? Is that how you behave with everyone?”
 “Nah,” he drawled. “That’s only happened once. With you. Today. Right now.”
“Great. I feel so special.”
“You kissed me back,” he pointed out, looking up at her with a smile. “So, that’s something. We
can kiss again if you like. Maybe on purpose this time.”
Valentine’s jaw dropped down in shock.
“All right then.” He shouldn’t have kissed her, and before things escalated to a full incident, he
decided to do the rational thing and not kiss her again.
He wouldn’t apologize, however.
There was no reason to apologize for a kiss like that. It had been the best of his life, and he wasn’t
about to forget how good it was.
Once the puddle was gone and the rag was in the sink, he leaned against the door frame. “See ya
tomorrow, Valentine.”
He didn’t wait for her answer. He skipped down the steps, got in his truck, and drove away. He
didn’t stop driving until he got to Reece’s place.
FIVE
 VALENTINE

V alentine watched the sheriff drive away in his truck, but she couldn’t move to close the door.
She was too shocked. Part of it was because he’d cleaned up the mess he made.
But the most important reason she stood there in shock was because of the kiss itself.
Nero had been right.
She had kissed him back.
It was the kind of kiss you saw in movies or read about in books. It wasn’t the kind of kiss you
had with a stranger.
It was the kiss of long-time lovers and passionate ones at that.
Val wanted to call Lilliane and tell her all about it. That’s when she remembered she couldn’t call
her sister. Lil wouldn’t pick up anyway.
There was always Celestine. Her older sister would probably understand what it was like to kiss
a wolf shifter, but Ceecee had her own life now. She was an alpha mate with a whole town who
looked to her for counsel and advice.
Valentine had never been so alone … or felt so alone … in her whole life. True, she was choosing
to isolate herself in the cabin, but she was still waiting for that idea to pop into her head to fix
everything. To bring Lil back.
She didn’t have time to think of the sheriff and his kiss.

VALENTINE WAS UP and out of bed as soon as the sun started to rise. She hadn’t been able to get
a single moment of sleep, and she only had one person to blame for her sleeplessness.
Sheriff Nero Greenlee.
And his mouth. And his taste in ice cream. And his muscular arms. And his sexy brown eyes.
She poured herself the biggest cup of coffee she could find and sat on her rocking chair, looking at
the sun rise over the line of trees. It was peaceful and beautiful. The kind of morning that made her
really happy her Half-Blood life didn’t make her burst into flames in the sun.
Sure, direct sunlight didn’t feel great, but at least she could enjoy these quiet mornings. She turned
her face toward the sun and basked in the warm glow.
The sound of crunching tires on gravel made her pop her eyes open. She frowned and blinked
against the glare. It was too early for Celestine’s visit.
The truck parked beside her car, and she swore a blue streak.
 It wasn’t her sister.
Nero leaped out of his truck with all the grace of a canine predator. He wasn’t wearing his
sheriff’s uniform, but she wished he was. It would have been easier on her libido if he was.
His jeans were too well-fitting to be fair, and his Henley tee should’ve been downright illegal.
And that mouth!
It was curled into a silly smile she wanted to smack … better that than to kiss it again.
“What are you doing here?” she called out. “Didn’t I chase you away yesterday?”
“Nope,” he called out.
“Don’t come any closer,” she ordered with all the authority she could muster. “I will snack on
your blood.”
He chuckled. “I know you don’t drink human blood. That threat won’t work with me.”
“I will call the cops.”
He arched a brow at her. “Already here, babe.”
“Well, surely, someone would like to know that you’re going around stealing kisses.”
“Like I said yesterday. I’ve only ever done that with you, and you kissed me back. Not sure why,
though. I’m here to figure it out. We can sit together and have some waffles and figure out why we
kissed.”
“No.”
“No?”
“No. I refuse to sit with you and dissect the momentary insanity that overtook us. It’s probably all
this forest air. It’s not good for you, you know.”
“Fresh air?”
“Apparently. It goes straight to your brain and makes you do crazy things like kiss sheriffs.”
“We haven’t officially met, but let me just say that it’s a pleasure.” He held out his hand as his
eyes sent sparks of interest up her spine. “Nero Greenlee.”
She looked at his hand as if it were a snake ready to strike. “You already know my name. And I
am never touching you again.”
He shrugged like he didn’t care, but instead of leaving like she wanted him to, he sat in the chair
beside her. With his leg, he hooked another chair and brought it in front of him. He placed a brown
paper bag on it that had the Tails and Syrup logo on it.
“You’re not serious,” she said.
He pulled out two big Styrofoam to-go boxes and handed her one. She was too shocked to refuse.
She took it, and there he was, digging into the bag again. He pulled out plastic cutlery with a
triumphant smile. “I didn’t forget this time.”
He placed a fork and knife on her container before opening his own. And just like that, the man
was making himself at home on her porch. He ate his eggs, bacon, sausages, and pancakes like it was
the most normal thing in the world.
“Don’t worry,” he said between mouthfuls. “I got you the waffles. Your sister warned me. No
pancakes.”
“Pancakes are insane. They’re terrible.”
He chuckled. “Agree to disagree.”
“Are you going to explain why you’re here with breakfast?”
“I’m not here to apologize,” he finally said. “I know I probably should, but I won’t. I can’t.”
“Why? Because then you would have to admit guilt?”
“There is zero guilt about the kiss. It was way too good to be guilty. But I will admit it wasn’t my
best moment. You just took me by surprise, that’s all.”
She arched a brow at him. She contemplated dumping the breakfast into his lap before returning to
her house and locking the door behind him, but something in the glimmer of his brown eyes gave her
pause.
“How could I surprise you?”
He shrugged. “Not sure, to be honest. I didn’t even realize what I was doing. I just had to know
what it would be like to kiss you.”
“And?” she asked.
“And it was amazing. Like I said, you’re a great kisser.”
She rolled her eyes. “That’s not what I was asking … I was asking why would you wonder what it
would be like to kiss me?”
“Because you’re a beautiful woman.”
“Do you go around kissing all the beautiful women you see?”
“Told ya. Only ever done that with you.”
“I am not the first beautiful woman you have seen.”
“How would you know?”
She threw her hands up in defeat. “Seriously? I’ve walked around Greenlee. All the women here
are stone-cold foxes.”
“Wolves,” he said. “Stone-cold wolves.”
“Whatever. You know what I mean. You can’t throw a rock without hitting a beautiful woman out
here. It’s like you all got blessed with hotness.”
“It’s a shifter thing.”
“So, see. You admit it.” She pointed to herself. “Not the first beautiful woman you’ve seen.”
“Yup.”
“You’re impossible.”
“Never said otherwise. It’s the color of your hair,” he said. “I’ve never seen that shade before.
Then there’s your eyes. Amazing shade of hazel. It makes for a really irresistible package.”
“You still can’t go around kissing women without permission.”
“Fine. I won’t kiss you again unless you give me permission. But you did kiss back.”
She snorted. “I won’t give you permission. Ever again. There’s just no way that can happen
again.”
“Why not?”
She huffed. “Because I am not free. I can’t …” She pushed away her untouched breakfast.
“Because I have a sister to save.”
“Lilliane. Right. You think she wants to be saved?”
“Oh, of course, she wants to be saved. What a thing to ask.”
“Well, from what Reece told me, she chose to leave. The vampire council would have probably
left her alone, but she said she wanted to go. So she went. That doesn’t sound like she was taken
against her will.”
“You don’t know her.”
“Then explain it to me.”
“Why would you even care?”
“Just humor me. I’m not going anywhere, so you might as well make conversation.” He took
another mouthful of his meal to demonstrate just how comfortable he was on her front porch.
“Lilliane is a people pleaser. She would have gone to make sure our father was okay. She would
have gone to make sure he got the seat on the council like he wanted.”
“That’s a hell of a sacrifice to make.”
“I know. That’s why I’m sure she didn’t want to go.”
“Have you spoken to her?”
She shook her head. “She isn’t answering my calls.”
“Ah. Maybe she doesn’t know how to explain her choice to you.”
Valentine smacked his shoulder. “Don’t do that. Don’t pretend like you know her. If she isn’t
answering, there is only one reason, and it’s because she is being held against her will somewhere.”
“So go get her.”
Valentine clicked her tongue. “Like I haven’t thought of that. Do you know what you need to leave
the country? A passport. Money. I have neither.”
“You don’t have a passport?” he asked, frowning.
She shook her head. “We had passports when we were kids and were summoned to the council,
but Sylvester, our father, never let us renew them.”
“How come?”
“Because that would have made it too easy for us to run away.”
“Ah. Right. That makes sense.”
“Does it?”
“Sure. In a vampire psycho kind of way.”
She laughed despite herself. “That’s exactly what my father is. A vampire psycho. That’s why I
know Lil isn’t in her right mind.”
“I’ve gone to the estate. There is no one there. Not even a staff member. No one knows where
your father is. But now, you know your sister has to be in the country.”
“How could that be true? The vampire council is in Italy.”
Nero smiled at her victoriously. “You said she doesn’t have a passport.”
“Oh. Well. The council could have some fucked up connections. She might not have needed one.”
“A good place to start might be your father’s other properties.”
“I thought of that!” she cried. “But what am I supposed to do? Waltz up to all of my father’s
estates and hope I don’t get killed the second they see me coming?”
“I am obviously not suggesting you go alone.”
Val arched a brow at him. “What are you suggesting?”
“That we go find her. Together.”
SIX
 NERO

N o sooner were the words out of his mouth that Nero knew it was a terrible idea.
A great fucking idea.
But a bad one.
He was an alpha and a sheriff. He couldn’t just take off to go chasing after a Half-Blood who
wasn’t even missing.
It was too late, though.
As soon as he made the suggestion, he could see how excited Valentine was about the idea. He
wasn’t so silly as to think she was excited about the prospect of spending time with him. But a man
could still feel good about himself.
“You would do that?” she whispered in disbelief.
Nero would always be a little bit proud that he had somehow managed to make Valentine
speechless and breathless with more than his kiss. She blinked at him like he had the answer to life,
and it made him feel about twenty feet tall.
He shrugged. “I don’t have any jurisdiction beyond the city limits, but I do know some people
who could help us. Other wolf packs. We can try to find her.” And then, with a grin, he added, “Do a
wellness check.”
Valentine jumped to her feet. “Let’s go!”
He pulled her back down into her seat. “Not yet, Red.”
“Don’t ever call me that.”
“Fine,” he grinned. “But you need to eat something. You also need to give me the chance to set
something up for my pack and my town.”
She clapped her hands and stood again. She took a full waffle and stuffed it into her mouth. It was
insane and adorable, and he was pretty sure he fell in love with her right there. “What are you waiting
for? Go make your plans,” she said around a mouthful of waffle. “We’ve got a sister to save. Be ready
to go in an hour.”
It was impossible to keep from smiling all the time with this woman. And not just because she
was his mate.
There was just something sweet about Val underneath all the bolster and anger.
“I’m going to need a day. We can leave tomorrow at dawn.”
“You’re a tease,” she grumbled around another mouthful. “I thought we could leave now.”
“Well, had I known before that this idea would pop into my head, I might have been more
prepared.”
“Remember that for next time,” she called out as she went into the cabin. “We leave at dawn. Not
a second after.”
Nero watched her go, and it was only then he realized his suggestion might not have been the
wisest. He shook his head and said to the wolf in his mind, “I blame you for this.”

NERO COULD BARELY STAND on Atlas Silver’s front porch as he told his friend what he was
about to do. He had saved this conversation for last as he paced nervously.
Reece, as a newly mated wolf, could understand.
Atlas was a different story. This wolf was not one that was easily swayed by emotions … not
even the kind that could be evoked by the mate sense.
To Atlas’s credit, he listened to Nero’s whole story … and half-baked plan … before he shook his
head. “No. Don’t do this. This is a bad idea,” Atlas said, crossing his arms. “Like, a really bad idea.”
“I know,” Nero replied truthfully. “Don’t think I don’t know the risks. Of course I do. But,
honestly, man, it’s too late now.”
“Are you seriously telling me that the Half-Blood has enough power over you already? What did
she do? Hypnotize you with her crotch?”
Nero rolled his eyes. “She isn’t a full vamp. She doesn’t have that kind of power.”
His friend lifted an eyebrow in doubt. “You sure about that?”
“No. I am not, but I also know this has nothing to do with her being a Half-Blood. She’s my mate.”
Atlas whistled low. “That’s two Longborn sisters and two wolf alphas.”
“Better watch yourself, then,” Nero joked.
“Don’t even go there,” Atlas snapped. “This is a really bad idea, man. You’re going around the
country, traipsing in all of these vampire strongholds, and you think they won’t come after you? That it
won’t be seen as an act of aggression? A vampire council member was killed, and we are still
waiting for the fallout from that. Do not go on this trip. Not with the Half-Blood. Don’t try to rescue
her sister.”
“I can’t not go.”
“Have you told her she’s your mate?”
Nero shook his head. “I thought it would be a bad idea. We’ve only just met.” He chose to keep
the details of his kiss to himself. That wouldn’t be the way to get Atlas on his side.
“So ditch her. Tell her you’re the fucking sheriff and the alpha. Tell her you don’t have time to
play superhero.”
“I haven’t taken a holiday in years. A decade, actually. So I think I am due for some time off.
Besides, with you and Reece, I have all the backup I need for my beta. Jaymes can handle this. He can
also step in at the office, given that he is my highest-ranking deputy.”
“When this falls to shit, remember this moment. When the vamps attack your home while you are
too far to defend it, I want you to look back and remember this.” Atlas slapped him across the face.
“Anything? Did that snap you out of it?”
Nero shook his head. “Nah, man. I’m done for. I made a promise to my mate, and there is no
breaking that.”
Atlas shook his head. “Fine. I did what I could to talk you out of it.”
He grinned and rubbed his cheek. “You’ve got one hell of a bitchslap.”
“Only because you are being a bitch right now. Whipped by your mate, and she doesn’t even know
what she is to you yet.”
“I don’t think that matters. One day, if you’re lucky, you’ll meet yours, and you’ll be willing to do
anything to help her. To make her smile.”
Atlas waved him off. “Nope. You should know better than to think that. Never. Gonna. Happen.”
Nero shrugged and waved to his friend. “We’ll see.”
And that’s how, a sleepless night later, Nero was parked in front of Valentine’s cabin at dawn.
SEVEN
 VALENTINE

U ntil Valentine spotted Nero’s truck in front of the cabin at dawn, she almost convinced herself
that she had hallucinated the whole conversation.
The kiss, however, she was not thinking about.
No. Nope. Nooopie!
What mattered more than anything in the world right now was that someone … an alpha with
resources out the wazoo and enough strength to kill a bear … was helping her.
Val was going to find Lilliane and drag her back home, kicking and screaming if that’s what it
took. Nero might not be quite okay with that part of the plan, but she would deal with that when it
came.
She wasn’t an idiot.
There would be a limit to what this wolf alpha would do for her.
He wouldn’t put his town or his pack … or his job, for that matter … in danger for her. She was
nothing but a woman who sort of lived in his town, at least on the border of it.
There was every chance he was only doing this because Reece and Celestine were making him.
Not that Valentine understood how or why one alpha could order another one around, but she
didn’t pretend to understand how packs worked.
Shit, she barely understood how the vampire council worked. Probably because, as a Half-Blood,
she wasn’t exactly allowed to know everything. Or anything, to be honest. She was too much of a
vampire for the humans and, tragically, too human for the vampires.
Maybe the answer, she thought wildly, was to be with a bunch of wolves. It nearly made her laugh
manically, but she stopped herself just in time as Nero made his way up the cabin’s steps.
“Good morning,” Nero called out to her. He looked way too good for so early in the morning. He
had obviously just showered, and his hair was still a bit damp. He smelled like body wash and the
forest, and it made her mouth water. She would have liked to kiss him again.
That was wild.
She wouldn’t kiss him. Ever. Never. Not again.
She had a sister to save, and if that was going to work, she needed to stay focused. More than that,
she had to make sure Nero didn’t ditch her halfway through this little mission she had given herself.
If they kissed again, and Val refused to go further than a couple of kisses, he might change his
mind about helping her.
Men were fickle. Wolves probably even more so because they had that whole wild animal thing
going on. Valentine wasn’t taking that chance. She was smarter than to fall for a man. Any man.
Including the sexy sheriff with the irresistible mouth and warm brown eyes.
 “You ready, Red?” he asked as he reached to grab her duffel bag.
She pulled it out of his reach and glared at him. If he kept calling her that, it would be so much
easier to keep her distance from the man.
And his kisses.
Why. Just why did he have to be such a good kisser?
More to the point, why in the hell had he kissed her?
Valentine hadn’t let herself think about it too much because every thought that popped into her
mind when she wondered was insane. He wants me kind of insane. We are a compatible kind of
madness.
It was much better to focus on the terrible nickname he had decided to give her. “I told you not to
call me that,” she said. “It’s not even original. I have auburn hair. It’s close to red. I get it. You’re not
colorblind like a puppy.”
Nero chuckled, and as always, the sound of his laugh made her belly do a little flip-flop. Man.
She loved that sound. It was warm and rich and collided with her hopes of a fun-loving boyfriend.
But that wouldn’t happen.
She was not going to date Nero.
Not only was he a wolf, but one day, he would find his mate and go off into the forest to howl at
the moon with a perfect little wolf lady.
“If not Red, then what should I call you?”
“Umm, how about my name? It’s Valentine, in case you had forgotten.”
“Hard to forget a redhead named Valentine,” he drawled as he swung her bag over his shoulder.
He even winked at her.
“Huh?”
“You know. Valentine. Red hearts.”
“And a baby in a diaper flying around,” she snapped. Was the irony lost on her that she was
obsessed with love and her name was Valentine? No. It wasn’t.
“It was my grandmother’s name,” she explained. “So my mother named me after her.”
“It’s beautiful.”
“Can we get going?” she asked, trying … and failing … to ignore the compliment.
He nodded. “We just need to make a stop before.”
She pursed her lips at him. “I thought we were supposed to leave at the crack of dawn.” She
pointed to the rising sun. “It’s dawn. We’re burning daylight. We should be driving to our first
destination.”
“And we will. But first, we need to make a plan. Strategize. Make a list of all the places we need
to check. And,” he added as he made his way back to his truck. “I am starving. I really need to eat.”
“Couldn’t you do that before like a normal human?”
“Nah,” he replied, swinging her duffel bag into the back of the truck. “Besides, I figured you
would be too anxious to eat, and I can’t have a hungry vamp sitting beside me on a cross-country
drive.”
“Half-Blood,” she said.
He smiled at her. “Still. I am a bit scared of your hunger.” He winked again to show he was just
joking, but she didn’t find it funny.
Not if he was going to keep winking at her.
“A good road trip always starts with a plate of pancakes.” He opened the passenger door for her
and waited for her to hop in. “Or waffles,” he added with another wink that burned up her cheeks
faster than the sun ever could
“Fine. But you better eat as fast as you can.”
He chuckled as he settled in his seat beside her. “I will eat fast and drive faster if you want.”
She sighed and nodded. “If you want to speed, that’s on you, but I will call the cops on you.”
“I’m the cops, Valentine,” he reminded her. He flashed his badge and a full smile.
“In your jurisdiction,” she said. “It’s not international. It’s not even national. It is, in fact, the very
definition of local. Not even regional.”
Nero threw his head back with a laugh. She didn’t think she was that funny, but he continued to
chuckle as he said, “I have my ways. We’ll make up time so we don’t …” He leaned close to her.
“Burn daylight hours.” His minty breath fanned across her face, and Valentine lost her damn mind.
Lost. Her. Mind.
It was the only explanation for what happened.
Because there she was in the sheriff’s truck, kissing Nero as if her life depended on it.
EIGHT
 NERO

A t least, Nero thought, he wasn’t the only one having a hard time with self-control.
There he sat in his truck, teasing Valentine because he couldn’t help himself, and the next
thing he knew, she was kissing him.
Hard. Deep.
Like she had been thinking of nothing else since he had kissed her the day before.
His tongue explored her mouth as he gently gripped her hip.
“Shit,” she gasped as she pulled away, putting her hands over her mouth as if that would erase
what she had just done. “Shit!” she squeaked. “Shiiit, shit, SHIT!” She shook her head while rubbing
at her mouth.
“It wasn’t that bad,” he chuckled, pushing her hair over her shoulder, ready to kiss her again.
“It wasn’t bad at all,” she cried, covering her face.
“Then why do you look like you’re going to be sick?”
“Because!”
“Because?” he asked once she had been quiet for a bit too long.
“This is bad. We cannot kiss.”
“I don’t think it was bad at all.”
She snorted and glared at him. “Not the kiss. The situation. I cannot kiss you. And you cannot kiss
me. There can be no kissing.”
“Sure. No kissing.” That wasn’t going to happen. “Wanna tell me why?”
“Because!”
“We’ve been here before,” he teased. “Because?”
“You offered to help me find my sister. You are the only person who offered, and what do I do?
Fuck it up because you kissed me and scrambled my brain.”
“I scrambled your brain?” he asked, unable to kill his smile.
“Yes. You scrambled my brain yesterday. No more. We need to find Lilliane, and if we start to
argue about kissing and the things that go with kissing, we will get distracted and never find her. Or
you’ll lose interest and dump me somewhere without my sister or a way back home. Not that I have a
home. But you get what I mean.”
He didn’t. “Huh,” he said simply.
“Huh? That’s it? That’s all you have to say?”
“Well, sounds like you have it all figured out. So, no, I don’t have anything to add. I would like to
defend myself against those insane accusations, however.” He turned in his seat to get a better look at
her.
 Her nostrils flared with real concern, and he decided that the time for teasing was over. “Just so
we are clear, I would never leave you stranded anywhere with or without your sister. I kissed you
because you looked like you needed to be kissed. And I kissed you back just now because that is what
I wanted to do. But if you don’t want any more kissing, then we won’t. That easy.”
Only he was a fucking liar.
If they were going to be locked in the cab of his truck for twelve hours a day, not kissing her
would be the hardest thing he would ever do.
He wanted to kiss her right there even though his mouth still tasted of her.
As it turned out, a mate’s kisses were definitely something he could get addicted to. He held up
his hands as if he needed to be on the defensive. “I will keep my mouth and all other parts of myself
on this side of the truck.”
She heaved a big sigh of relief. “Okay. Good. We can go for breakfast now.”
“Okay,” he grinned because he couldn’t help himself. She was just way too cute.
Yeah.
Not kissing her was going to break him.

TAILS AND SYRUP wasn’t exactly busy at four in the morning. There weren’t many people up at
that time, but Nero had asked the owner to open early for him.
It was a testament to the number of times Nero ate there that Inez opened her place, cutting into her
crucial sleepy time.
“You owe me,” she called out as he entered the restaurant. As soon as Inez caught a glimpse of
Valentine, she grinned, and her anger vanished. “I see how it is. Pancake breakfast coming up,” she
called out.
Valentine grumbled something about waffles, making Nero chuckle.
Soon enough, Inez brought over a plate full of pancakes. The white porcelain plate nearly buckled
under the weight of the immense stack.
Of course, Inez wasn’t really a subtle woman. That much was obvious by the shape of the
pancakes.
“Hearts,” Valentine gasped, her eyes finding his. “Why are these pancakes hearts? What did you
tell her?” she hissed once Inez was back in the kitchen.
He shrugged. “Nothing. I’ve known Inez a long time, and since I asked her to open early and then
brought a lady with me, she must figure we’re together.”
“We’re not.”
“You’ve made that clear.”
“You should tell her. We should send them back.”
He was already piling pancakes on his plate and slathering them in syrup. “No way. That would
only piss her off, and the last person anyone should want to piss off this early in the morning is Inez.
Just pretend the pancakes aren’t hearts.”
“But they are!”
He cut the pile with his knife. “Not anymore. Now they are a weird V and boobs.”
Her mouth dropped down. “Boobs,” she repeated.
“A man has things on his mind,” he grumbled between mouthfuls of pancakes.
 “If you can’t kiss me, you can’t think of my boobs.”
Slowly … so slowly it made him ache … Nero looked up at her. His eyes caught the curve of her
breasts, and he was suddenly very hungry for something else.
For her.
For his mate.
He’d done it to himself.
Why was he sitting there thinking about boobs? What was he? Twelve? With a sigh, he shook his
head. “Eat your pancakes. We’re burning daylight.”
As he expected, using her words against her worked wonders.
Valentine started to eat her meal. “Waffles would be better.”
Nero tried not to be amused by just how adorable his mate was. They ate in silence, and Valentine
didn’t speak to him again until they were back in the truck and heading toward the interstate.
Of course, that meant they hadn’t done much planning. “So,” he said. “I figured we should start
with the nearest property your father owns.”
“New Orleans,” she said. “But honestly, I think we should go to his favorite spot. Not the
closest.”
“And why is that?”
“Because I know the council has a place there. In New York. They don’t have anything in New
Orleans.”
He frowned. “You’d think it would be the vampire capital of the world.”
“It sort of is, but that’s why they don’t have a place there. Vamps go there to blow off steam or
live their lives. If the council ever had a spot there, all they would ever do is have exposure
hearings.”
“Exposure hearings?”
“They summon you and give you shit for exposing, or almost exposing, the existence of vampires
to humans. The vamp population is so dense that everyone there just assumes vamps are real.”
“Right,” he nodded. “Note to self: never go there.”
“I think we need to go to New York City,” she said as if he weren’t in the truck with her.
His jaw dropped down. “That’s going to take forever.”
“Maybe you should’ve thought of that before you offered to take me.”
Despite himself, he laughed. What else was there to do but chuckle because she was right?
Just like Atlas had been.
NINE
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old Mr. Tankerville alone knew how to paint before our delighted
schoolboy eyes, when he spoke of the temples of Khefren, the
sphinxes of Kheops, of the mysterious Neit-akrit, and the beautiful
land over which a pall of oblivion had lain for so long. Here it was
new and fresh, alive as ever, and we two prosy Britishers were here
to enjoy its beauties. The crescent-shaped boats, with bright-
coloured sails, the naked boatmen, whose skins shone beneath the
sun like pieces of yellow marble, their scarlet tight-fitting caps, their
metal collars, the life, the movement, the beauty, the colour,
intoxicated me and made me feel as if this were, at last, life and
beauty indeed.
I looked at Hugh: he had thrown back his head, and, raised on his
elbow, was looking out upon the land he had so daringly decided to
rule and which he found so fair. As for the Queen, there was in the
midst of all this beauty, this gorgeousness, but one sight which to her
eyes was worth the seeing, and which gave a singular softness to
her fine voluptuous face, and that was the sight of the mystic
stranger who had demanded to share her throne with her, the envoy
of Osiris and of Ra, the beloved of the gods.
The invalid Pharaoh had been taken onto one of the boats, and
was already being rowed along the canal, followed by his gorgeous
retinue; the Queen’s litter had also stopped at the foot of the temple
steps, and Hugh helped her to alight and to step into her own boat.
She seemed very unwilling to part from him, and prolonged her
“sweet sorrow” with many whisperings, which my imperfect
knowledge of the language prevented me from catching. At last she
waved us a last adieu, the eight oarsmen dropped their sculls into
the water, and with slow and rhythmic movement the royal craft,
draped in the Queen’s favourite black hangings, and glittering with
ornaments of gold, disappeared down the canal, and I at last was,
comparatively speaking, alone with Hugh.
A boat was evidently waiting for us, for, prostrate on the ground,
eight swarthy-looking men seemed to be waiting for us and to be
requesting us to step into it, which we did. From the temple the
stream of people had poured out, and stood in dense and
picturesque masses on the tall steps, watching from a respectful
distance every movement of the beloved of the gods.
 “Perhaps you will tell me, old man, how all this is going to end,” I
remarked as soon as we, in our turn, were being rowed down the
canal some half a dozen lengths behind the Queen’s boat, and I felt
that, at last, I was alone with Hugh.
He turned round to me, and the sunniest of smiles drove all the
solemnity from his face.
“I don’t know, old chap, and I don’t care,” he said with a merry
laugh. “Tell me if this isn’t the most glorious, the most beautiful thing
mortal man can conceive?”
“It certainly is the most magnificent picture I have ever set eyes
on, Girlie; but tell me what on earth you propose to do.”
“Do? old chap!” he said, in his quiet, convinced way. “Why! rule
over this gorgeous country, with you as my prime minister.”
“I know your wants are modest, old man,” I laughed, “but I should
like to know how you propose to accomplish this laudable object,
and whether the fund of deception from which you drew the
wondrous history of your origin is inexhaustible, for you will need
plenty of it.”
“That was a capital idea of mine, now, wasn’t it, old fellow?
Another moment and we were bound to be found out, and you can
guess as well as I what would have been the summary proceeding
by which we should have made our forcible exit from this beautiful
land.”
“It was a bold stroke, Girlie; worthy of you. But I want to know
where it will all lead to.”
“To the most glorious discoveries the world of antiquity has ever
dreamed of,” he replied enthusiastically, his eyes literally glowing
with buoyancy of spirit. “Discoveries of which my dear father used to
dream, over which he broke his heart when he realised that they
would be made by other eyes, other hands than his. I mean to rule
over these people, Mark, study them, know them, love them,
conquer them; then, having learned all their secrets, go back to
England and set the world gaping with the treasures which I shall
place before its wondering eyes.”
“Go back to England, Girlie,” I said with a laugh; “that sounds
feasible, doesn’t it? You forget that Hammersmith lies some
considerable distance from this picturesque Elysium, that the last
’bus to the Broadway has gone, and the tramway service is
interrupted for the present. There is only one exit from this fairyland,
and that is the one through which malefactors are cast out, without
food or water, into the desert wilderness; unless you propose to
cross those hills over there in a balloon.”
“Propose? I propose nothing at present, old Mark, but to enjoy
ourselves to our hearts’ content. I as king-regent of this land, and
you as my guide, philosopher, etc. After that—presently—a long time
ahead, I hope, when you and I are tired of this place, and are ready
to let the world know some of these wondrous secrets, then…”
“Yes? then?” I said, for he had paused a while, letting his gaze
roam over the distant pyramids far away.
“Oh, well, then, old chap,” he said with his sublime self-reliance,
“then something will happen, I am sure—something wonderful—
stupendous—I don’t yet know what. The upheaval of those rocks,
perhaps—a general chaos somewhere—to allow me to pass. What
does it matter? Is not the present glorious enough that you want
already to think of a future?”
How could I help admiring him, with his grand belief in himself and
all the world, his enthusiasm, his faith, ready to kick aside a
mountain if it happened to stand in his way, his set purpose, which
defied alike earth and sky, atmosphere, sun and universe?
“In any case,” I said with a smile, “the present for you has one
additional charm: you are already provided with a very beautiful
bride.”
“Yes, she is beautiful,” he said quietly, “though I should say she
was somewhat unpleasant at times.”
“A genuine Cleopatra, Girlie; in looks at any rate.”
“And probably in character. Think of it, Mark! Cleopatra alive to-
day! The Cleopatra we all read of, all fell in love with, when we were
in our teens, actually alive! and the Pharaoh, Kheops! Khefren! Mena
himself! and these people still building to-day tombs which rival the
pyramids of Ghizeh, and carve sphinxes and mammoth gods beside
which the figures at Abu-Simnel are mere students’ work!”
“And think of a real Pharaoh, Girlie, who is a real direct enemy.”
Hugh frowned a little, then he laughed.
 “Yes; he is no friend. He was the only one who did not believe the
story of my interesting origin.”
“He may be scientifically inclined, or perhaps his illness has made
him more sharp-witted than his fellow-men. I wonder what the high
priest thought of it all?”
“It is difficult to say. We shall find it out by-and-by; but in any case
he has burned his boats, since he solemnly declared at the foot of
his own god, to a very large crowd of people, that I was indeed the
envoy and beloved of the gods. He cannot go back on that now
without proclaiming himself a liar.”
“I wonder what his position is in the government of the country?”
“Paramount, I should say. If you remember he practically forbade
Queen Maat-kha to wed one of her own subjects, and she was quite
prepared to obey, when I, the beloved of Osiris, appeared upon the
scene.”
His eyes twinkled with the humour of the situation, and he added:
“What do you think Aunt Charlotte would say, old Mark, if she saw
you in your new character as a defunct Egyptian come to life again,
to gladden the hearts of the great people of Kamt? How do you feel,
eh?”
“About the same as you do, Girlie, in your character of usurper of
some one else’s property. Now you can’t get away from the fact that
by your assumption of a semi-divine rôle you have helped to defraud
a lady of her just rights, and she, to judge from the enthusiastic
eulogies of that old rip, the high priest, is young and beautiful.”
“And moreover is called Neit-akrit,” added Hugh, musingly, “a
name which to you and me is associated with the most cherished
memories of childhood, with the dear old Chestnuts, the museum,
where the shade of the mysterious queen used to wander before our
excited fancy, conjured into life by the picturesque story told by my
father, and rendered glowing by the fitful light of the great log fire as
it flickered on the old-fashioned hearth. Perhaps, after all, old Mark,
this is all a dream; you and I are not really here, and presently I for
one shall wake up and find myself sitting beside that hearth, trying to
decipher by those dying embers the last few lines of a sneering
article vilifying the memory of mad Tankerville and his hobby.”
 We had left the temple of Ra far behind us now, and our boat, as
Hugh was talking, turned into a wider canal, on each side of which
the houses were more imposing, more luxurious than heretofore.
Beneath the peristyles of massive columns, and in the gateways, we
caught sight of groups of people, richly dressed, who followed our
boat with eager gaze as it glided swiftly by. Evidently the great and
mystic news had spread throughout the city, and in the houses of
rich and poor alike all were anxious to be among the first to set eyes
on the emissary of Ra.
We passed an island which was evidently a market-place, for
gigantic piles of pomegranates, melons and dates stood everywhere,
together with mountains of golden mimosa, snow-white acacia,
spotted orange and flame-coloured lilies and pink aloes, behind
which sat enthroned women in gay draperies, and striped kerchiefs
floating over their dark hair; while between this wealth of fruit and
blossom busy figures flitted to and fro. But at sight of the royal boats
pomegranates and dates, aloes and palms were abandoned and an
excited throng rushed to the water’s edge. Presently one little
maiden, more venturesome than her elders, took up a bunch of
mimosa, and, with wonderful dexterity, flung it with all her might
towards our boat, where it alighted right on Hugh’s shoulder,
deluging us both with a sweet-scented shower of golden dust. Then
a loud shout of delight rent the air, and in a moment we, the boat and
the boatmen, nearly came to grief beneath a veritable avalanche of
blossoms—lotus flowers and honeysuckle, branches of papyrus and
bouquets of iris, penetrating tuberoses and sprays of orange
blossom—till we had much to do to keep up a dignified appearance
under this persistent and uncomfortable shower.
“No doubt, Girlie, that this is no dream,” I said as soon as we had
left the enthusiastic market-square behind, “and no doubt that you
won’t find it difficult to exact veneration and obedience from these
excitable people. They look upon you already as one of their deity.”
“They fascinate me, Mark. They are so intensely picturesque. But
it strikes me there is a terrible vein of cold-blooded cruelty in those
that rule them.”
“Perfect monsters, I should say, remembering the awful doom they
mete out to criminals.”
 “I am going to try my hand at that amount of civilisation, anyhow.
Civilising!” he added, with a laugh. “A strange word indeed to use in
connection with people who build such cities and carve such
temples. But they have yet one thing to learn.”
“Christianity?” I said. “You are bold.”
“Christianity?—No, old chap, you and I are not cut out for
missionary work. I suppose there is a something wanting in our
education for that, something out of tune—perhaps our sense of
humour—but we can pave the way for worthier men than we are,
whose prosy minds will be above the petty scruples which I confess
would stay my hand from destroying these pagan yet gorgeous
temples, these false, yet oh! such picturesque deities. Then,
presently, when the world, guided by us, will have revelled long
enough in the picturesqueness of this great and unknown land, the
Western nations can begin their endless fight as to who shall best
desecrate it.”
There was no time to prolong our chat, for the boat was slowing
towards an island which lay in the middle of the stream. On it, amidst
shady groves of giant fuchsias and drooping clematis, we saw
glistening the gilt and copper roofs of a vast palace, half-hidden in
the bower of many-coloured blooms. Gradually, as we approached,
we saw its noble proportions, its walls and columns of alabaster-like
marble, covered with arabesques and tracings of several tones of
gold. It stood close to the water’s edge, above a flight of marble
steps, up and down which there stalked in stately majesty a number
of pink flamingoes. In the branches of acacias and palms many apes
chattered shrilly, and beneath the shadows of overhanging leaves
we caught sight of a herd of snow-white cows with tall slender horns.
A crowd of tiny girls, in turquoise-blue dresses, lined the long flight of
steps, and as the Queen’s boat was moored below, they all began to
sing a sweet-sounding greeting.
“It seems that we are to be the royal lady’s guests,” I remarked as
our boat also drew to the side. “I don’t know what you feel, old Girlie,
but I, for my part, am ready to collapse if I don’t get some food within
the next hour.”
As soon as we had landed the Queen came up to Hugh and said
some pretty words of welcome to him; then, at last, she deigned to
take notice of me.
“Wilt thou accompany my lord beneath the humble roof which he
will honour with his presence?” she asked.
Now I felt that in reply to this invitation it would have been ill-
mannered to nod, and again, at that moment, I could not for the life
of me recollect a single word of my Egyptian vocabulary. Innate
British shyness, when placed face to face with foreign modes of
speech, had completely paralysed my tongue and my memory, and
all I could do to save appearances was to bow silently and
somewhat clumsily before the lady.
“Is thy counsellor dumb?” she asked, turning to Hugh with
astonishment.
“He speaks but seldom,” he replied with characteristic presence of
mind—impudence I called it, “for his words are pearls of wisdom,
treasures given to him by Horus, the most learned, and as such most
precious.”
She seemed satisfied, for she smiled very sweetly at me as we all
began to mount the steps to the palace, but she did not address her
words directly to me afterwards.
In the inner hall of her palace she parted from us, but not before
she had placed herself and her house, her advisers, ministers and
slaves unreservedly at Hugh’s command. One portion of the palace
was evidently to be given over exclusively for us. A gorgeous
personage, carrying a wand of office and wearing a belt emblazoned
with writing, led us through many rooms, at the threshold of each of
which he solemnly knelt down in front of Hugh, and kissing the
ground before him, bade him welcome. Not the least attractive
among the grand halls we traversed was one in which the marble
floor was sunk some six feet below the level and the basin filled with
sweet-smelling, slightly-steaming water. It suggested the most
delicious vision of a swimming-bath my excited fancy could
conceive, and only the sense of my dignity, as chief counsellor of the
gods, prevented my giving way to the overwhelming temptation of
then and there plunging into that inviting basin. However, the
gorgeous official having welcomed us a few times more, and shown
us our sleeping-apartments, which led one into the other, where he
salaamed again, until I was ready to kick him out of our godly
presence, we were at last left in the hands of some dark-
complexioned attendants, face to face with the sweet-smelling,
steaming water!—and the rest is silence! save for the splash and the
groans of content—silence and infinite bliss!
Then, afterwards, arrayed in wonderful garments, which seemed
to have dropped down from heaven, and the fit of which was
apparently of no consequence, for they consisted mostly of cloaks,
we were solemnly led to another earthly paradise. In the centre of
one of the halls, where a number of solemn personages welcomed
us in various fantastic ways, there stood a low table covered with
everything that could delight nostril and palate of two starving
creatures whose last meal, partaken of some eight hours ago, had
consisted of a piece of raw vulture’s leg. Great baskets of fruit and
olives, bread and cakes of different kinds, and above all, occupying
the centre of the table—a happiness to the eye, a joy to the heart—a
gigantic roast goose, with brown, crisp skin, and a delicious odour of
aromatic, sweet herb stuffing.
And didn’t we enjoy that goose, in spite of the fact that we had to
carve it with blunt bronze knives, and to convey the pieces to our
mouths with a spoon? I should not like to have to state how much of
it there was left by the time we really considered that we had finished
with it. The gorgeous personages had fortunately most discreetly
retired when we began our repast, and our attendants consisted of
the sweetest little army of dark-eyed waitresses I personally have
ever known to hand sauces and fruits. They were very picturesquely
but, I blush to say, very scantily attired in a collar of leather studded
with turquoise, and a deep blue kerchief held round their tiny heads
with a circlet of dull metal; but I am bound to confess that this
unconventional uniform by no means took away our appetites—
even, I thought that it added a very special, piquant flavouring to that
roast goose—and when the pretty maidens poured the wine into our
cups, out of great stone jars, I thought that never had juice of grape
tasted half so sweet.
 CHAPTER IX.
THE MESSENGER OF PRINCESS NEIT-AKRIT

The next day only exists in my mind as a memory of one long and
gorgeous pageant: triumphal processions through the city, shouts of
enthusiastic people, messengers sent flying in every direction
throughout the land, to announce the great news to the inhabitants of
its most outlying corners, with a promise to some of the more
important cities that they should soon in their turn be gladdened by
the sight of the beloved of Ra, the son of Osiris, the messenger of
the Most High. It was a wearying day to us both, who, occupying a
comparatively humble position in our own country, were
unaccustomed to the pomp and glitter of courts, and to the worship
and salaaming of innumerable picturesque people. I, for one, found
my long flowing robes very difficult to manage, and my belt of lapis-
lazuli, on which were engraved sundry characters denoting my
dignity, exceedingly uncomfortable. Hugh seemed to take a keen
delight in wilfully upsetting my gravity at the most solemn moments
by making irreverent remarks about the elderly dignitaries, who
looked for all the world like mummies out of the British Museum
escaped from their glass cases.
In the precincts of the temple of Osiris, raised aloft upon a golden
throne, Hugh Tankerville received the homage of the nobles of the
land, the functionaries, the priests, the scribes and servants of the
court. The “mob,” as the traders and agriculturists were
contemptuously called by the more elevated personages, were not
admitted to this impressive function. They, however, showed their
reverence for the emissary of the gods by making a carpet of
themselves on the temple steps, the terraces and embankments, on
which the beloved of the gods and his wise counsellor were
expected to tread. (A process which I, for one, found exceedingly
uncomfortable, especially when I had to tread on the daintier
portions of this novel carpet; the dark eyes which then peered up at
me in half-awed, half-inquisitive fashion were very disconcerting.)
 Truly reverential and adoring! Good old Hugh! It amused him, I
know, for I could see his eyes twinkling in merriment, but his gravity
was unshakable and his dignity superb. The Pharaoh did not appear
at these solemn processions—perhaps he felt that his own
importance was being put in the shade—but Queen Maat-kha never
left Hugh’s side throughout that long day. I could not of course hear
the sweet whisperings with which she helped to beguile the
gorgeous monotony of the festivals, but when I had an opportunity of
watching Hugh closely, I could not detect the faintest sign of
enthusiasm on his part in response to her blandishments.
There was an official banquet in the latter part of the afternoon, at
which the Pharaoh, sarcastic, ailing and silent, presided. I looked at
him as often as I could during the interminable repast, beginning to
guess the nature of the disease from which he was suffering, and
wondering what physicians there were in this strange land to
alleviate his pains and give him relief. He contemptuously ignored
the obsequious greetings of his entourage, as each in their turn,
having entered the banqueting-hall, knelt down before him and
kissed the ground. He seemed to have but one interest in life, and
that was in his two apes, which never left his side, and which
appeared to cause him endless delight. My still imperfect knowledge
of the language prevented me from venturing on an animated
conversation with my neighbour, a pompous, abnormally fat old man,
who reeked of aromatic pomades, and was fed from a spoon by a
young girl, who tasted of every morsel before handing it to him. Hugh
sat next to me on the other side, and in one of the few intervals of
rest which his interesting bride granted him we contrived to
exchange a few words together.
By this time I had got very tired of my robes and my lapis-lazuli
belt. I longed for a clean shirt, a stiff collar, anything firm about my
body, in place of all the flapping, swathing garments which always
got in my way whenever I tried to cross my legs. Now I always had a
habit of tilting my chair back and crossing my legs in good, honest,
insular manner, and I had not yet realised that, in a sort of Roman
toga and petticoats, this attitude was far from elegant; and when in
addition to this I vainly groped for my trousers pockets in which to
bury my hands, like the true-born Englishman I was, and found that
not only I had no pockets but also no… well! I said “Damn!” loudly
and emphatically.
No sooner was this useful and impressive portion of the English
language out of my mouth than I perceived that in the vast hall a
deathlike silence had succeeded the noise of talk and laughter, and
three hundred pairs of ears were straining to catch the strange word
I had uttered, while the Pharaoh’s keen dark eyes were fixed
mockingly upon me.
But it certainly would take a great deal more than just one good
British “Damn!” spoken in an inopportune moment, to ruffle Hugh
Tankerville’s supreme dignity and composure.
“Ye know not the secrets of the tongue which Osiris teacheth his
beloved to speak,” he said with perfect impudence, “and my
counsellor and I speak many words which it is not meet ye people of
Kamt shall hear, unless indeed the gods do grant you leave. Only
those who lead a just and blameless life, who pardon their enemies
and relieve the oppressed, can hope to understand the veiled
mysteries of Osiris’s tongue.”
I tried not to smile. I tried to imitate Hugh’s dignity, and in a
measure I succeeded; but the idea that the true understanding of a
British swear-word could only be the reward of virtue nearly upset
my utmost endeavours at gravity.
Respectful silence had greeted the wonderful announcement, and
three hundred pairs of eyes gazed with awed superstition at the
expounder thereof. Only from the head of the table there came a low
and sarcastic chuckle. Hugh affected not to notice it, and did not
even glance towards the mighty Pharaoh, but from that moment I
had a strong suspicion that, however ignorant on the subject of the
outer world the people of Kamt might be, their ruler at any rate had
but little belief in our divine origin.
What his attitude in the future towards us might be, it was
impossible to guess; but weak and ill as he was, he evidently for the
present had no intention of breaking into open enmity against the
beloved of the gods, who was also the idol of his people.
However, after this little episode, Hugh and I tacitly decided that it
would be best only to speak English when we were alone.
 The shades of evening were beginning to draw in when at last we
all rose from the table. Queen Maat-kha led us into the gardens,
while the guests followed or still loitered round the tables, drinking
wine or nibbling honey cakes. The Pharaoh’s litter had disappeared
beyond the alleys, and I for one felt much relieved by his absence.
“The evening is young yet, oh, my beloved,” said the Queen,
clinging affectionately to Hugh. “Isis hath not yet risen beyond the
hills, and the hour is still far when thou must leave me to preside
over the court of judgment at Kamt. Wilt stay with me alone and try
to find, in that mysterious language which Osiris hath taught thee,
words which would convey to me the thought that thou dost think me
fair?”
“Fair above all, my Queen,” said Hugh, earnestly.
“Yet thou knowest not how much fairer I will be the day when thou
standest by my side at the foot of the throne of Isis, in Tanis, when
clouds of incense hover round us, hiding us from the gaping
multitude, and the high priest raises his hand over our heads to give
us a supreme benediction.”
“Thou couldst not be fairer than thou art,” he said, with a certain
want of conviction, which no doubt the lady perceived, for she said a
little sadly:
“How silent thou art, oh, my beloved! Already, perchance, the
destinies of Kamt sit heavily upon thy shoulders. The Pharaoh is
sick, he has no will save for rest and peace, and his enemies have
become powerful in the land.”
“The ruler of Kamt should have no enemies, oh, Queen! for his
rule should be merciful and just; justice disarmeth an enemy’s hand.”
“Nay, but there are the jealous, the envious,” she said, with the
sweetest of smiles, “those who stand so near to the Pharaoh that
with a touch of the hand they might easily reach the crown which sits
so lightly upon his head.”
“My place, oh, Queen, will be beside the Pharaoh, to protect his
crown from the hands of the jealous and the envious!”
“Ay! I know! and thy protection is great, oh, beloved of the gods!
But is it not meet,” she added pensively, “that some one who is near
and dear to him should pray to the gods night and day, that their
continued blessing may rest upon his head?”
 I was beginning to wonder why Queen Maat-kha was suddenly
showing such unwonted solicitude for her son; her sweet manners,
her fascinations exercised to the full, led me to think that she was
playing some hidden game. From the first, the fascinating, exotic
queen had deeply interested me. I was always a keen observer and
earnest student of human nature, and the one or two incidents in
which Maat-kha had been the central figure had already shown me
that, in spite of the many thousands of miles that lay between them,
in spite of barriers of desert waste and inaccessible heights, this
radiant product of an ancient civilisation and her Western twentieth-
century sister had the same feminine, capricious, un-understandable
heart.
That she was even at this moment playing some little game of her
own there could be no doubt; that there was some little feminine
cruelty hidden behind her solicitude for her son was clearly shown by
her almond-shaped eyes, which had gradually narrowed until they
were merely two glittering slits, that again brought back to my mind
the two grim guardians of the gates of Kamt.
The same thought had evidently struck Hugh, for he said, with a
smile:
“Art already tired of thy future lord, oh, my Queen, that thou turnest
thy thoughts to daily and nightly prayers?”
“I?” she said, astonished. “Nay, I was not thinking of myself. There
is truly no one more near or dear to the Pharaoh than his mother, but
my mission is greater and more important in the land than that I
should spend my days and nights in prayer. Nay! there are others.”
“I do not understand.”
“Is it not meet,” she said, speaking rapidly and eagerly, “that one
who, besides being kith and kin to the holy Pharaoh, is also young
and pure—a maiden—beloved of Isis—should devote that young
and still blameless life to the service of the Most High? Her prayers,
like the fragrance of the spotted lily, would rise heavenwards, pure
and undefiled by thoughts or memories of the past. Thou, who has
dwelt among the gods, thou knowest that Ra loveth the songs and
worship of a maid. His priestesses are indeed privileged, for they can
sing to him at all times, praise and worship him, and he always
grants their prayers.”
 “Privileged dost thou say? Hast forgotten, oh, Queen! that some
cruel and godless decree of this land doth deprive the priestesses of
Ra of his most precious gift?”
“What is eyesight beside the purity of the soul? The maids of Kamt
vie with each other for the privilege of being among the chosen
priestesses of Ra, who, alone among all women, kneel within the
inner sanctuary of the god. And now when the Pharaoh is sick, when
he hath most need of prayers, there is not one maid of the house of
Memmoun-ra who mingles her song with their song, who kneels with
them, entreating at the foot of the throne of the Most High.”
“Young girls of the royal house, no doubt, have no desire for such
a sacrifice.”
“Girls are thoughtless and selfish,” she said sweetly; “it is for the
older and the wise to counsel them.”
“Dost propose then to counsel one of thy young kinswomen to give
up her life, and what is dearer than life, for the sake of praying for thy
sick son?” asked Hugh, who, I think, as well as I, was beginning to
perceive the subtle game his bride was playing.
“I cannot counsel, I am but a woman, and the Pharaoh’s
kinswoman is wilful and proud,” she said with a sweet smile.
“The Pharaoh’s kinswoman? Art speaking of one young maiden
then?”
“What other being is there in this fair land more worthy of the
honour to be priestess of Ra than my sister’s child, the Princess
Neit-akrit? I cannot counsel her, for, alas! she hath hatred for me, but
thou, oh, son of Ra! canst give her the message which emanates
from the god himself. Thou canst command, and she will not
disobey. Then, when shut off from all temptations, all turmoil and
strife of this world, she will soon forget that she was once young and
fair, and killed the souls of men by her wiles and her beauty; then
she will bless thee for that command, and cherish thy name in her
heart as she would a god’s.”
So that was the hidden game Queen Maat-kha was playing. She
was madly, barbarously jealous of her young kinswoman, and in that
passionate, exotic nature love and hate were absolute, simple and
paramount.
 She had fallen a ready prey to Hugh’s mystic personality; his
handsome presence, his supposed supernatural origin had invested
him with a halo of romance. But she knew that Princess Neit-akrit
was young and beautiful, she scented a probable rival, and being a
woman, a simple, ardent, semi-barbaric creature of flesh and blood,
her instinct was to render that rival helpless, before it was too late.
That her suggestion was cruel and abominable goes without
saying; that it would have no effect upon Hugh I felt, of course, quite
sure; he turned to her and said, with quiet sarcasm:
“Dost hate thy young kinswoman so deeply, then, that thou dost
ask me to formulate so monstrous a command?”
But like a cat who has shown her claws before she is ready to
spring, and hides them again under the velvety paw, Queen Maat-
kha said, with the sweetest of smiles and a look of childish
astonishment:
“Thou makest a mock of thy servant, oh, my beloved! Thy words
are but a jest, I know. I hate no one, least of all my sister’s child.”
“Dost fear her then?”
“Not as long as thou art near me,” she said, throwing, with sudden
impulse, a pair of very beautiful arms round Hugh’s neck. “Wilt tell
me that thou dost love me?”
“I claimed thee as my bride before the throne of Ra,” he answered
quietly.
“Wilt prove thy love for me?”
“It needs no other proof.”
“Wilt bind thyself to grant me a request?”
“Command, oh, queen; I will obey if the gods allow.”
“Stay by my side in the palace,” she pleaded; “go not forth by night
or by day beyond the walls of Men-ne-fer. Men-ne-fer is beautiful and
great; it shall be a feast to thine eyes, until the day when our barges
will bear us to Tanis, there to be made man and wife.”
“Wilt hold me a prisoner of love?” he said, smiling. “I know not if I
can thus bind myself to thy feet, beautiful as thou art. My counsellor
will tell thee that it is meet I shall visit my people and see the cities
wherein dwell my future subjects. Dost begrudge them that, which
already messengers have gone forth to announce?”
 “Ay, I begrudge every moment which takes thee away from me.
Presently, to-night, when Isis has risen to illumine the night, thou wilt
go to sit beside the Pharaoh, in the judgment-hall of Kamt, to
pronounce sentence of life and death on all those who have erred or
sinned against our laws. That hour will be martyrdom to me. Think of
what I should suffer if thou wert absent for a day and a night.”
I could see that Hugh, like myself, was much amused by her
strange persistence and her sudden change of tactics. She was
evidently bent on gaining this point, having apparently lost the other,
for she put forth before him all the charms and artifices which a
woman, loved or loving, alone knows how to use. It was getting very
dark, and in the east a faint streak of greyish light heralded the rise
of the moon, but in the semi-darkness I could see the beautiful
Queen’s eyes fixed with a truly magnetic look upon Hugh, while she
half-offered, half-pleaded for a kiss. I think it would have required a
very adamantine or very worn-out old heart to resist such charming
pleading, or refuse so flattering a request, and I doubt not but that in
spite of her earlier, decidedly unpleasant, tactics Hugh was ready
enough to yield and promise all she asked, but unfortunately at this
moment the poetic little scene was suddenly interrupted by a fanfare
of metal trumpets, and from a distance we heard the cry:
“Make way for the messenger of Princess Neit-akrit!”
Even in the darkness I could see that Queen Maat-kha had
become very pale, and a dark frown appeared between her eyes.
“Thou hast not yet promised,” she whispered hurriedly. “Promise,
my beloved, promise.”
“Make way for the messenger of Princess Neit-akrit!”
The sound of the trumpets, the repeated cries, drowned the words
in Hugh’s mouth.
“Promise thou wilt not go,” she entreated for the last time;
“promise thou wilt not leave my side!”
But it was too late, for the trumpets now sounded quite close in the
garden, and preceded by some of the Queen’s servants, a
messenger, in shining tunic and silver helmet, with winged sandals
on his feet—an emblem of his speed—was rapidly approaching
towards us. Impatiently Maat-kha turned to him.
 “What dost thou want?” she said imperiously. “Who has given thee
leave to intrude on the presence of thy Queen? Thou deservedst a
whipping at the hands of my slaves for thy daring impudence.”
The messenger, however, seemed well accustomed to this
inhospitable greeting, or in any case was very indifferent to it, for he
knelt down and kissed the ground, then rising again, he quietly
waited until the flood of the lady’s wrath had passed over his head.
Then he began, solemnly:
“From the Most High the Princess Neit-akrit, of the house of
Memmoun-ra, to the beloved of the gods, greeting.”
And again he knelt and presented Hugh with a dainty tablet, on
which a few words had been engraved upon a sheet of wax. I
thought for one moment that the Queen would snatch it out of his
hand, but evidently, mindful of her own dignity, she thought better of
it and stood a little on one side, pale and frowning, while a slave
brought a torch close to Hugh and held it over his head to enable
him to read.
“From the humblest of thy worshippers, greeting, oh, well-beloved
of Ra, envoy of Osiris. This is to apprise thee that the dwelling of thy
servant will be ready to receive thee on the day after to-morrow, and
Neit-akrit will be waiting to welcome thee when Isis is high in the
heavens. Wilt honour her and her house by setting thy foot upon its
threshold?”
“Do not go, my beloved,” whispered the Queen, excitedly.
“Tell thy mistress, messenger,” said Hugh, calmly, “that on the day
after to-morrow, when Isis is high in the heavens, I and my
counsellor will lay our homage at her feet, according to her will.”
The messenger salaamed again. Queen Maat-kha, among her
many powers, had evidently not the one of killing with a look, for
probably otherwise the unfortunate messenger would have paid
dearly for the privilege of bringing Princess Neit-akrit’s greeting. As it
was, he was allowed to depart in peace, and a few very
uncomfortable moments followed—uncomfortable, at least, as far as
two of us were concerned, for good old Hugh seemed highly amused
at the episode, and even had the heartless impudence to give me a
nudge, which fortunately the Queen did not see.
 “Wilt thou not bid me farewell, my Queen?” he said, trying to keep
up a sentimental tone. “It is time I went to the judgment-hall, for Isis
will appear anon.”
But without another word she had turned away before Hugh could
stop her, and had disappeared among the trees, while we both heard
a heavy, almost heart-broken sob, which I think ought to have filled
Hugh’s heart with remorse.
 CHAPTER X.
THE JUDGMENT-HALL OF MEN-NE-FER

Half an hour later we were being rowed down the canal by

moonlight on our way to the judgment-hall of Men-ne-fer, and had full
leisure to discuss the funny little incident in the garden.
“It was a damnable idea,” said Hugh, with true British emphasis.
“She must have taken me for a fool to think that I should not see
through her artful game.”
“Queen Maat-kha seems certainly to have vowed deadly hatred to
her royal niece. I wonder why.”
“Feminine jealousy, I suppose. All the more serious as the lady
seems to have very few scruples hidden about her fine person. It
strikes me that I shall have to extend a protecting hand over my
defrauded kinswoman.”
“My dear Girlie, it strikes me that that young woman will need no
protection, and that, for aught you know, she bids fair to be your
most dangerous enemy. She is evidently very beautiful, and a
beautiful woman deprived of her rights, justly or unjustly, always has
a large following.”
“A statement worthy of your best college days, oh, Doctor
Sagacissime. Well! we will not despise an enemy worthy of our steel.
So far we have had nothing but triumph, and easy conquests might
begin to pall. But I’ll tell you what we can do, old chap,” he added
with his merry, infectious laugh, “that which shall disarm our bitterest
foe, if indeed she be one. You shall enter the lists for Princess Neit-
akrit’s hand, marry her, and when presently I leave this fair land to
return to the foot of the throne of Ra, I shall solemnly appoint you
and your heirs my successors to the double crown of Kamt.”
“I’ll tell you what you had better not do,” I rejoined half crossly,
“and that is to fall in love yourself with the fascinating lady. Everyone
seems to be doing it about here.”
“Oh, I?” he said, suddenly becoming serious, and with a touch of
sadness. “I am here with a purpose, altogether besides my own self.
I have to prove to the world that neither my father nor I were fools or
liars. I must study the life, the government, the art of the men; my
heart is crusted over with fragments of papyrus and mummies, it is
impervious even to the beauty of these warm-blooded women.”
“For shame, Girlie! at your age!”
“I have no age, Mark, only a number of wasted years behind me,
and a few on ahead, which I am determined shall be well filled.”
It was a beautiful starlit night, and the crescent moon shone
wonderfully bright over the ancient city, with its marble edifices, its
water-streets, which wound in and out among mimosa and acacia
groves like a bright blue ribbon covered with glistening gems. As
they rowed the boatmen sang a sweet, monotonous barcarolle, and
from east and west, and north and south, at regular intervals,
fanfares of trumpets greeted the crescent moon as she rose.
The great judgment-hall of Men-ne-fer stood—a gigantic circular,
roofless building—high above a flight of dull grey granite steps. Open
to the sky above, it was only lighted by the brilliant yet weird rays of
the moon, which threw into bold relief the semi-circular rows of seats
on which, when we entered, were seated a number of solemn-
looking Egyptians in long flowing robes. They all rose as Hugh’s
figure appeared in the massive, square archway, and he and I
paused a moment to take in the strange picture which lay before our
eyes.
It would be impossible for me to give any definite facts as to the
proportions of this vast coliseum. It looked probably larger than it
really was, owing to the dense shadows into which one-half of it was
plunged and which looked almost limitless. There were several tiers
of stone seats, placed in semi-circle each side of a tall throne, on
which, propped up with cushions, the mighty Pharaoh reclined. On
his left, a foot lower than the kingly throne, sat Ur-tasen, the high
priest of Ra, and at the foot of the throne sat three old men, in one of
whom I recognised my fat neighbour at the banqueting table. They
also rose when Hugh entered, and I noticed that they wore round
their waists heavy belts of lapis-lazuli, on which was engraved the
device: “Justice. Mercy.”
A seat had been placed on the right of the Pharaoh, with a low one
close behind it. These were for the beloved of the gods and his wise