Unseen by Nosferatu’s group, the priests, or the Gods, there was a fourth party in the depression, not far from them. A man named Kajilil, covered with a gray cloak that blended with the stone, tucked into a slight crack in the rock wall. He saw the priests, the Gods Isis and Osiris, and the group of six hiding on the opposite side. He was as still as the rock that surrounded him and as patient. He was one of the Wedjat, a Watcher, the fifty-second of his line, sworn to observe the Giza Plateau and the Gods. His line had watched from the very beginning, when the Gods had first arrived with the survivors of Atlantis.
When the priests got stiffly to their feet and shuffled away from the Black Sphinx toward their stone temple near the Nile, the Watcher remained still, eyes on the small group of half-breeds across the way. Only one man remained in the open, the high priest, standing in the entranceway to the Roads of Rostau between the Black Sphinx’s paws, waiting for the last of the supplicants to clear the area. As the high priest turned to follow Isis and Osiris into the depths, the group sprang into action, Nosferatu in the lead.
The high priest was reaching for an emblem around his neck to shut the stone door to the entranceway when Nosferatu leapt at him, dagger point in the lead. The tip of the blade punctured the side of the high priest’s throat, and Nosferatu pulled the handle hard to the side, severing the man’s jugular and preventing him from crying out a warning to the two Gods who were ahead of him.
The blood from the high priest’s still-beating heart sprayed over Nosferatu, drenching his face and chest. Nosferatu’s tongue snaked out, tasting the blood. He blinked, staggered, and felt a new surge of power. He leaned forward, mouth open wide, and drank in the weakening surges of arterial blood until the high priest died and there was no more. The blood coming from a living human was much more exhilarating than what he had always been fed secondhand from a flask, but not quite the same as what Nekhbet had shared with him.
With his free hand Nosferatu removed the emblem from the high priest’s neck.
Etched on it was an image of an eye within a triangle. Nosferatu moved into the tunnel, Nekhbet right behind him, the other four carefully stepping over the body of the high priest.
And behind them, like a shadow, the Watcher followed, keeping low to the ground and moving silently.
Nosferatu ran on the balls of his feet, his bare feet making no sound on the smooth stone. He felt powerful, stronger than he could ever remember feeling. He caught a glimpse of the tall figures of Isis and Osiris as he came around a bend in the tunnel and skidded to a halt, trying to control his breathing, sure the Gods would hear him in pursuit, but they continued around another bend, out of sight. He glanced over his shoulder. Nekhbet was right behind, and at his glance, she reached up and touched his shoulder lightly. He felt a wave of confidence from her touch. If they succeeded tonight, she would be at his side for eternity.
When the other four caught up, Nosferatu continued the pursuit, blood-soaked dagger at the ready. He heard the rumble of a large stone moving and picked up the pace, knowing the Gods had secret passageways that even the high priests knew nothing of. Doors that appeared out of solid rock and disappeared just as quickly.
He dashed around the bend in the tunnel. A stone was beginning to slide down at the end of the corridor twenty feet away. Nosferatu was prepared for this. He dived forward, sliding along the smooth stone, the piece of black metal the strange woman had carried now in his off-dagger hand. He stuck it in the way of the descending door, one end on the floor, the other up. The bottom edge hit the metal and the door shuddered for a moment, pressing hard on the metal, then halted, leaving a gap.
Nosferatu let out a sigh of relief. Looking under the door he could see the two flickering shadows of Osiris and Isis on the left side of the wall. And then they disappeared. He glanced back. Nekhbet was near his feet, the others crowded behind her, daggers grasped tight in their hands.
He knew that it was not the time to hesitate. He slid forward, underneath the door, into the lair of the Gods. Nosferatu got to his feet, peering about. There was light ahead, around a curve to the right, which explained the shadows he had seen. The only sound was the scrape of cloth on stone as Nekhbet slid through, then the others. He waited a minute, letting his eyes adjust as much as possible; but the light hurt, and he kept his eyelids closed to slits to protect his sensitive pupils.
Nosferatu began moving down the corridor, dagger held out in front. He pressed his back against the left-side wall and edged along the corridor, trying to peer around the bend. The stone walls were cut perfectly smooth, the work of the Gods, not human hands.
The priests said the Gods had built the Roads of Rostau in the very beginning after arriving from beyond the Middle Sea. And that there were six duats (chambers) where the Gods lived and kept their secret sources of power. Wondrous things were said to be hidden in the duats of which there were only whispers and vague memories of an earlier time when the Gods walked the Earth openly and flew about in the sky in golden round chariots. Now the Gods hid down here, ruling through the priests, rarely seen, as if they were hiding from something, but what could Gods be hiding from? Nosferatu often wondered. There was only one answer — other, more powerful Gods. As a child, he had heard the stories of the Great Civil War, when God had battled God and Atlantis had been destroyed. To him that meant one thing — they were vulnerable.
None of the six noticed the figure that silently followed them. The Watcher slid under the door, then halted as a hatch on the top of the tunnel slid open. Kajilil froze, covering himself with the gray cloak, and watched with wide eyes what came out of the small space and headed down the corridor in pursuit of the intruders.
Nosferatu came around a corner and bumped into Osiris, Isis being ahead of her partner. It was hard to say who was more startled, but Nosferatu was the quicker to react. He jabbed with the knife, the point puncturing Osiris’s chest. Nosferatu continued his momentum, throwing all his weight behind the shaft of metal.
Osiris grabbed Nosferatu’s throat with his six-fingered hands, squeezing, lifting him off the floor with inhuman strength. Nosferatu twisted the blade in the God’s chest, ripping through flesh, piercing the heart. Red eyes went wide in shock, then life faded from them and Nosferatu was released. Isis finally reacted, jumping to her partner’s defense but she was swarmed by the other five half-breeds, their daggers rising and falling with the deadly blows they rained down on her body. Decades, centuries of imprisonment, spewed forth, and over fifty blows punctured her skin. Blood spattered over all and tongues snaked out, tasting the God’s blood.
They couldn’t help themselves. Their plan disintegrated into a feast of blood as all six lay atop of the two bodies, licking, tasting, and tearing at exposed flesh to get to veins. They even suckled at Osiris’s corpse, drawing the still blood from him as best they could.
And that was when the strange beast Kajilil had seen appear came upon them from behind.
Only Nosferatu had enough awareness. He spun about from Osiris’s body in time to see the thing come around the curve. A glowing gold orb, two feet in diameter with black, pointed legs all around, scuttling along the floor. Mosegi was the last in the party and the first to die as the strange creature reached him. Two metal legs, razor-sharp at the tip, struck, punched into Mosegi’s chest, and came out the back. They scissored together and Mosegi’s body was sliced in half, falling to the ground.