Her Kind of Trouble (38 page)

Catrina had already eased some of my worries about the chalice's safety by shutting and locking the barred gate from the tunnels—passageways where Phil, Khalef, and their followers were still hiding. Rhys seemed to have bribed the camel drivers into making sure someone brought the captives water. I had to hope that was enough.

Grailkeeper or not, champion or not, I'd then concentrated on making sure my lover—and, we quickly established, fiancé—survived this latest attempt on his life. Thankfully, he'd recovered faster and more completely than even Dr. Ken had expected. Only once Lex was discharged and on his way to
London
for more secret meetings, stoically
not
complaining about leaving me behind, did I return to
Alexandria
to learn…

They'd put the cup back
In situ.

And not just Catrina. Rhys had helped!

They'd secretly returned the Isis Grail to the harbor, back into
Isis
's hand, then covered both with sand and a chunk of algae-encrusted rock to hide them. Their plan was to then deliberately avoid the area where the statue lay and let someone else discover her. The clean condition of the chalice could then seem to be a mystery to them as surely as to everyone else.

Not a bad plan, except for the minor detail that
I was collecting goddess grails
! That was what had brought me to
Egypt
in the first place. I'd already learned that a single cup, alone, didn't have the power to protect itself from men like Phil Stuart and his followers. I would need a collection of them before I could risk revealing them to the world and allowing them to work their empowering magic on womankind.

Without the Isis Grail, my collection amounted to
one
.

And yet…

Gliding silently over the sandy harbor floor, past fish and half-veiled statues and columns and sphinxes, I had to admit the bitter truth. My goal of bringing the grails together was, this time at least, in direct opposition to my morals. Damn it, I wasn't just a Grailkeeper—I was an academic.

Further interfering with the integrity of this incredible underwater site went against almost everything I believed in.

We reached the fallen column and, shadowed beneath it, the statue of seated
Isis
, half-covered in a drift of sand. I reached out a gloved hand to stroke her face, worn smooth over the centuries. How many hundreds—thousands? Tens of thousands?—of women had worshipped at the feet of this ancient, all-encompassing goddess? Empresses like Cleopatra. Priestesses. Everyday women—all seeking that interconnectedness, that sacred sense of womanhood.

My eyes burned, behind the shelter of my mask.

Thank you
, I thought.
Thank you for helping me find Lex
. Just because he was no longer in danger didn't mean I hadn't continued to sense where he was—every time the doctors had moved him for tests, I'd known. Even now, I had a vague awareness of him, safe but far, far away. That would be
England
.

The statue's calm expression seemed amused.

And the baby
, I added mentally. Of course I had no absolute proof that I
was
pregnant—the best home pregnancy tests rarely work until two weeks after conception, so I hadn't bothered to find out if kits were even available in
Egypt
.

But part of me knew, all the same. Sacred rituals were powerful things.

Whatever organization Lex was now leading, be they the true Comitatus or a splinter group, would be damned successful, if his fertility really represented his ability to lead.

Thank you for my strength. For this new… magic.

Isis
stared at me, unblinking.

I moved the rock that lay beside her half-hidden torso, then brushed sand away in a brown cloud, until I could see it in the faint green light—the Isis Grail, held in the statue's curled fingers. Worn blue faience. Gold-banded.

So very, very powerful.

And not mine to take. Sometimes, a person does have to make a sacrifice for honor.

Damn it.

So with a heavy heart, I brushed sand back over the hand, over the cup, and replaced the stone. I guessed I'd have to keep looking for goddess grails that I felt I
could
take, or buy, or that needed my immediate protection. But not this one.

This Goddess of Ten Thousand Names, Oldest of the Old, could probably protect her own.

Catrina Dauvergne, to my annoyance, seemed to be smiling. But for once, it wasn't a smile of triumph. She looked… relieved.

With a flip of my swim fins, I rose for the surface, leaving the
Temple
of
Isis
behind.

Or so I thought.

Rhys drove me to the
Cairo
Airport
. It was a long, quiet drive—what was left to say? But not far into it, he rested his hand on the open seat between us, palm up. Gratefully, I gave him my hand, the one that still wore Lex's wedding ring.

We entwined fingers in silent acceptance for the rest of the extended drive. I was okay with him helping Catrina put the chalice back. He was okay with my agreeing to marry Lex Stuart. That's what counted. Being comfortable with each other. "You know what's interesting?" I mused, breaking the silence only as he pulled into the airport and found a parking space. He slid his blue gaze toward me, waiting. "Over the entrance it says
Cairo
Airport
, first in English and then in Arabic. When I first saw that, I thought it was odd that the English version would be first—as if it had more importance. Then I realized something."

Rhys said, "That Arabic is read right to left?"

"Exactly. So the Arabic version is
also
first. It's a classic case of win-win.

"Don't you wish everything could be win-win?" Rhys said, "I'm going to miss you, Maggi Sanger." I unbuckled my seat belt and leaned across to hug him, right there in the too-hot car. His long, lanky arms tightened around me. I think he kissed the top of my head.

"No, you're not," I insisted. "We are friends, and we will stay friends if I have anything to say about it. Let me know if you can come for Christmas."

Then I drew back and grinned at him. "You can bring Catrina."

"Don't even tease about such a thing." But he blushed through his protest. That got my attention…

Except it was no longer any of my business. Damn it.

"Did she ever tell you what she did with the money she got for the Melusine Grail?" I asked, to draw out these last moments.

Rhys replied, "A priest cannot tell."

I was flying to
London
with Jane Fletcher and Kara Rachid.

Since the discovery and identification of Hani's body—ruled an accidental death—Jane was free to take her daughter home with her at long last. I felt honored that they wanted me along, though I asked them to minimize my role when they told their story. The crush of press was even worse at London Heathrow than it had been in
Cairo
. Airport officials hustled us through the customs check and to a private room, reserved for VIPs, until our rides arrived.

Asp made it through with my checked luggage, no problem.

It was great to hear announcements in English again, to be able to read the signs. I might still be six hours from
New York
, but it still felt like home.

As we settled ourselves comfortably, Jane chatting about her plans now that the long ordeal was over, I thought about Lex…and I could sense him, mere miles away, getting closer. Like the way my throat tightened in the presence of danger, this was a goddess gift that might take a while to get used to.

But I felt an almost giddy pleasure at his approach, all the same.
Engaged to be married
. Surely that wasn't in any way contradictory to my Grailkeeper legacy, was it? There couldn't be mothers and daughters without a few fathers along the way.

"Maggi?"

Kara's tentative voice drew me from my reverie, and I smiled at her. She looked as young and innocent as ever, with her dark hair in braids and a fake blue tattoo—an ankh—on her hand. Someday she, too, would grow up and possibly marry. But at least here, without her father's interference, she could do it on her own timetable. This, I decided, was the only victory I needed for this trip. As far as the Isis Grail went…

Well, it had done what needed doing. I couldn't expect more.

"Are you excited to be home, Kara?" I asked.

She nodded solemnly—then handed me a gift-wrapped shape the size of a shoe box. "This is from Grandmother Tala."

I looked at the box. Then I looked at her, confused.

She smiled, pleased with her role as gift giver. "She said to give it to you after we'd gone through customs. She said that it's private property, so she has 'every right to let you have it.'"

Now I looked at Jane, who widened her eyes, equally clueless.

Kara bounced and giggled. "Open it! Open it, open it, open it!"

So I did, tearing the tissue paper rather than keeping the child in suspense. And it
was
a shoe box. But inside that, carefully protected with more tissue and quite a bit of bubble wrap, was the wide-mouthed kylix I'd drunk from at Tala's, that first evening.

A cup?

I caught my breath as I lifted it by one of its two ceramic handles and, on closer inspection, recognized its age. It was in pristine condition but, having been passed down within the family, it might easily be from a time before the
Temple
of
Isis
was swallowed by the
Mediterranean
.

Though smaller than most Kylikes, the cup had the shallow bowl and narrow base of a standard Greek offering vessel. But this time, with no wine in it, I could see the image painted inside the concave surface of the bowl.

A Greek-styled rendition of the goddess Isis.

I felt suddenly light-headed—and it had nothing to do with my likely pregnancy! The force with which multiple realizations hit me was dizzying. After its conquest by Alexander the Great in the fourth century BC,
Egypt
became predominantly Greek. Cleopatra herself had descended from Ptolemaic, aka Greek, ancestors as much as from Pharaonic. This cup was Greek.

"There's more than one Isis Grail," I whispered in amazement. And it made sense. Wouldn't a goddess with ten thousand names and millennia of worship across most of the ancient world have more than one cup?

Just like the rhyme had implied.
Isis
is everywhere, she cannot be contained
.

Look for her where she is honored.

I'd drunk from an Isis Grail my first night in
Egypt
!

Suddenly, so much made sense. The familiarity I'd sensed when I did the ritual in my hotel room. The goddess's indulgent chiding,
You wish
another
gift
?

I'd been given a gift at Tala's house, without even knowing it! And it didn't take long for me to realize what that had been. Tala was a doctor. She'd told me her grandmother had been a midwife. Apparently, medicine ran in her family.

I remembered how sure I'd been that Rhys was badly injured in the cisterns. After I'd inspected his injuries, they seemed less severe. Then there were the accidents in the Alexandrian harbor. Lex's miraculous recovery from the poison.

My limited knowledge of first aid had only helped.

My gift of healing, compliments of the goddess Isis—that was a gift beyond measure.
Magic
.

My eyes burned with gratitude—gratitude toward
Isis
, gratitude toward Tala, gratitude toward Jane and Kara for giving me the chance to earn this chalice. Now I really did have a collection of goddess grails started. A collection of two.

"Don't you like it?" asked Kara, her little brow furrowing. So I put the kylix back in its padded box and gave her slim frame a hug.

"
Yes
," I assured her. "Yes, yes, yes. This may be the best gift anybody has ever given me."

Smiling, she poked a finger at my chalice-well pendant. So I gave it to her. Another convert.

Sensing his nearness deep in my womb, I looked up—and saw Lex in the doorway, neatly pressed and watching us as if he took pleasure simply from the sight of me, and I smiled true welcome.

The cup was perhaps the
second
best gift.

I'd been guarding my emotions with Lex for so long, I'd almost forgotten how blissful just being in love could be. Seeing his smile as our eyes met. Going to him for a welcoming hug… and a long, lingering kiss that seemed to draw us to a place completely outside of time.