Not only is it a good
time to be talking about ghosts, but also I have a new release in my Gods of
Egypt series next week! (The books can be read in any order.)
Here's the story for the award winning GHOST OF THE NILE:
Egypt, 1550 BCE:
Betrayed, murdered, and buried without proper ceremony, Egyptian warrior
Periseneb is doomed to roam the gray deserts of the dead as a ghost for all
eternity.
But then the goddess
of truth offers him a bargain: return to the world of the living as her
champion for 30 days. If he completes his mission, he’ll be guaranteed entry
into Paradise. Periseneb agrees to the bargain but, when he returns to the
living world, two hundred years have passed and nothing is quite as he
expected.
Neithamun is a woman
fighting to hang onto her family’s estate against an unscrupulous nobleman who
desires the land as well as the lady. All seems lost until a mysterious yet
appealing ex-soldier, Periseneb, appears out of nowhere to help her fight off
the noble’s repeated attacks.
Meanwhile, Periseneb’s
thirty days are rushing by, and he’s powerless against the growing attraction
between himself and Neithamun. But their love can never be. For his Fate is to
return to the Afterlife, and Death cannot wed with Life…
And the excerpt:
Periseneb had no idea how many years he’d been wandering in
the gray lands of the Afterlife. Time had no meaning here. For time unending
he’d done battle with monsters and demons, experiencing neither pain nor
emotion, despite the horrific combat, until a startling moment when he felt
pavement underfoot, not shifting gray sand. Raising his head with a rare
flicker of curiosity, Periseneb found himself in a tunnel, walking toward an
illuminated room. Radiance and warmth from a golden light beckoned him onward.
He slowed and then stopped, fighting the tug of the summons bringing him here.
Whatever was about to happen, he wouldn’t go as a supplicant.
I was a
warrior.
He straightened his shoulders.
One of Pharaoh’s own guards.
He tightened the leather straps of his breastplate and drew
his sword, intent on facing this new challenge as he’d lived, with pride.
Jaw
set, eyes focused on the light ahead, Periseneb marched forward resolutely,
braced by the discipline he’d learned in his life as a soldier.
He
crossed the threshold into the chamber, his steps faltering at the sight of the
deity waiting for him. But then, who had he expected? He was too lowly a shade
for Isis or Osiris to bother with. Standing at attention, he saluted. “Lady
Ma’at.”
Calm
smile on her face, the Great One, goddess of truth, nodded to him. Taller than
he, dressed in a finely pleated red sheath, the goddess was imposing. Her
expertly painted face was accented by the towering red ostrich feather in her
hair, and her expression could only be deemed welcoming. Eyebrows raised, eyes
gleaming, she inspected him from head to toe as a commanding officer might.
He
assessed the room with a glance, hope dying as quickly as it had sprung. Ma’at
was alone. Neither of the other two judges, Anubis and Thoth, was present.
Their chairs sat empty. The most dreaded occupant of the judging chamber was,
thankfully, not paying any attention to him. As grotesque as the depictions of
her hinted, the beast Ammit, Destroyer of Souls, slept snoring in a corner.
Claws curled possessively, one hideous cheetah forepaw was draped over a
gleaming human thigh bone. She snuffled, long pink tongue scraping the sharp
crocodile teeth in her jaws, while her hippopotamus hind legs kicked in some
dream. Repressing a shudder, Periseneb averted his eyes.
“I’m
not here for my heart to be judged at long last, am I?” His voice sounded rusty
to his ears.
“No
indeed, Periseneb. The laws of the Afterlife haven’t changed—you can’t receive
judgment, since none did you honor at the time of your death. No one performed
even the tiniest ritual from the Book of the Dead on your behalf. You’ve no
tomb, although your bones do lie in the soil of the Black Lands.” Ma’at’s voice
was soft, her eyes misty with tears, apparently for him. “A paltry blessing, I
know. I’m sorry.”
He knew
she was sincere. Truth was the only utterance Ma’at could make. He rammed his
sword into its sheath and rolled his shoulders. “Why then am I here? I didn’t
seek this place out; I swear to you.” Pride stiffened his spine. He wouldn’t
beg favors, not even when unexpectedly drawn into the presence of a gatekeeper,
someone who could free his ka from ceaseless wandering…sentenced to defending
the green serenity of the blessed duat, never to set foot there himself, banned
for lack of proper ceremonies. The rule was harsh but just. No one deserved
eternal life in the duat without proper judgment from the gods.
“Don’t
concern yourself about misunderstanding, warrior. I summoned you.” The goddess
walked to the ebony table where the scale for weighing the worthiness of human
hearts stood ready. Idly, she tapped the balance beam and the arms swayed, cups
twisting in the air on their thin gold chains.
Periseneb
pushed away a rush of hot jealousy for the souls luckier than he, whose hearts
had been weighed on the scales and obtained passage to the Afterlife for their
owners. A tiny beacon of hope flickered in his mind. There had to be a reason
Ma’at had picked him, of all the lost ones in the hinterlands, to meet with
her.
“You
recognize me as the embodiment of Truth?” She continued to toy with the scale,
then picked up a slate and scanned the hieroglyphics before glancing at him,
eyes gleaming under winged brows.
He
nodded.
“Yet,
I’m also a seeker of justice and balance, one who rights wrongs. I’m the
goddess of second chances for the human race.” She raised her elegant eyebrows.
“Although such chances are few and far between.”
Despite
the warmth of the brightly lit room, a shiver worked its way down Periseneb’s
spine. “You wish to right the wrong of my murder? Bring my murderer to account
for the crime?”
She
shook her head, the golden beads in her wig chiming like little bells. “Your
death is done, past, woven into the fabric of life in the upper world these
two-hundred years and more.”
He
staggered, locking one hand on the edge of the table to steady himself. “So
long?”
“Time
here and time there run differently, warrior. Only the Nile remains
unchanging.” She moved to the black-and-gold chair, seating herself and leaning
against the richly decorated back. “Yet, your death is connected in a way to
events now.” Ma’at nodded her head as if some decision had been reached. “I
need a champion.”
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Here's the pretty cover for my new release:
