Sanah went to intercept the besotted old gentleman. She reached for the glass, but he pulled it back, drained it, and then allowed her to take it.
He looked blearily into her black eyes and wavered on his feet. “Would you care for opium, Sanah?”
“You should lie down, Sir Godfrey.”
There was a knock at the library door and he shouted, “Come in! Why do you knock, damn you! I asked for laudanum hours ago.”
There was another knock, prompting Sir Godfrey to stagger toward the door, which was open, and peer out. “Where are you?”
Sanah heard the knock from another direction, from inside the library. When it came a third time, she moved deeper into the room, her senses leading her to a grand Old Kingdom sarcophagus against the wall.
“Here,” Sanah said as she laid a hand on the gold, bejeweled surface.
“Here what?” Sir Godfrey stomped back into the library, staring at Sanah until a louder rap sounded again from inside the ancient coffin. The old man huffed with annoyance and pushed his age-spotted hand against the jewels. “What’s all this? No one was in the pyramid.”
“Allow me.” Sanah gently pushed his hand aside, and her fingers brushed over a series of gemstones in succession. There was a click.
The lid swung out, and a short, stocky figure in tradesman twill stepped into the library accompanied by a blast of stiff hot air from the passageway that ran to the Great Pyramid. He pulled off his cap and looked up to reveal a bruised, swollen face.
“Mamoru!” Sanah exclaimed, and grabbed him before he fell.
The samurai leaned heavily against the Persian woman as if losing his strength now that he was safe. He still nodded toward the window. “Lower your voice and the shades, if you please. Shut the door as well. The house is being watched by every policeman in Giza.” As Sir Godfrey hurried to comply, Mamoru weaved, with Sanah’s shoulder for support, to the sofa, where he collapsed.
The old man leaned out to scan the hallway for eavesdroppers, and then shut the door and turned back with a great, inebriated grin. “Well, well, it’s lovely to see you, old boy. We thought you were quite dead and the whole game was up, and the vampires had won the day.”
“I am alive. The game has reached its final move, and it will end with every vampire dead,” Mamoru whispered in a rasping voice, his eyes beginning to droop with long-denied sleep.
Long ago Mamoru sat on the edge of a wooden veranda in the courtyard of the largest house in Lincang, a small village in Yunnan Province, China. Above the crumbling edge of the second-story roof, he could see the stars beginning to be blotted out by large whitish grey clouds. Through an overgrown archway on the far side of the courtyard, he saw his soldiers passing. There were no townspeople about, which was just as well. The inhabitants of Lincang had seemed properly cowed by the arrival of the dragon airship yesterday followed by the Japanese troopers marching into their town square and erecting the rising-sun flag.
He adjusted his gun belt and noted a rip in his khaki uniform trousers. He would have his adjutant mend that; he couldn’t afford to look unkempt in front of new subjects of the Japanese Empire. He shoved back a metal mess kit with the remains of tonight’s mediocre meal. The food would get better once his chef settled in and imported quality ingredients. It would be interesting to try local produce, but he would miss the fish so plentiful in Singapore. Such was the price of duty. Mamoru laid a hand on his father’s katana, which rested beside him. He heard the sound of soft footfalls and sat expectantly until a small hand fell on his shoulder.
“It’s cold,” said a woman’s voice. “Would you like your overcoat?”
“No, thank you.” Mamoru removed his officer’s cap and turned to look up at the woman. He touched his light cotton tunic. “It’s warm enough.”
Tomiko was small, just over five feet tall, but she was sturdy and moved with a delightful economy. Her face was flawless, soft and round, framed by cascading jet black hair. Her eyes were comforting and challenging at the same time. Her lithe figure was swathed in a heavy white fur coat. Her breath was visible hanging in the cold air.
Mamoru stood and took the baby from the crook of his wife’s elbow. He hummed with pleasure and touched the tiny wet chin with his oversized finger, and his daughter cooed. Her wriggling sent a shock of affection through him. He plunged his face inches away from her, eliciting giggles from both of them.
He bounced the infant while grunting lightly. He stared at the baby, but said to his wife, “We’ll have a wonderful nursery for Kiyo when I have a proper governor’s palace built.”