VALLEY OF OBSESSIONS by Betty Gordon

VALLEY OF OBSESSIONS by Betty Gordon

Desiree's passion for ancient Egyptian culture leads her on a dangerous trip down the Nile.

Can Desiree Roberts leave her law career in Texas and become a 1980's Egyptian?

Will the country that has captivated her since childhood embrace her, or will it lead her down dangerous paths fraught with deception and betrayal?

As Desiree follows her dreams and treks through shifting sands, she enters portals of pharaohs long since entombed. Her obsessions lure her into alien territory filled with suspicious characters - where someone wants to end her fantasies.

How far will he go?

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Excerpt:

Desiree’s dreams climaxed as she stood in front of her love, in spite of unnatural fears that played along her spine. Tension gripped her as she felt his hands cradling and caressing her head, threading his fingers through her hair. Gentle sensations drifted down her arms that she met with quick agility. She backed away, waving her hands in fan-like motions before rushing into open air.


In minutes, Sandy was by her side. “Have you lost your friggin’ mind, Desiree Roberts? What’s wrong with you?”

She whispered a weak apology, touching her palm to her heart. “You’re going to think I’m crazy, and maybe I am, but he touched me. He actually caressed me.”

“You’re certifiable. That’s absolutely impossible. Understand? Impossible. Now, relax a few minutes if you can in this horrendous heat—then we’re going back.”

“Don’t think so.”

“You may not think so, but you’ve waited a long time to see this man. Pull yourself together—we’re going back.”

Desiree felt Sandy squeeze her arm. She jerked free, watching tourists plod through the sand, exploring tombs in one of the most visited valleys in the world—the Valley of the Kings. In less than five minutes, she sensed Sandy pushing her toward the dark passageway, nudging her forward. The narrow path forced them to walk single file, but Sandy’s hand remained on her shoulder.

“You don’t have to hold me. I’m not going to run away.”

“Making sure. Go on—right behind you.”

When they were halfway down the tunnel, the women paused, laboring to breathe alien air. In minutes they once again faced the magnificence of Tutankhamen. Desiree’s eyes locked onto his black ones that promised nothing yet everything, eyes rimmed in cobalt, laid to rest in gold. Desiree whispered, “I can’t believe I’m finally looking into your face. You’re no longer just in my dreams.”

Her mother’s words echoed in her ears, “I swear, if I believed in other lives, which I don’t, you had to be an Egyptian princess.” Oh, mother, she thought, if I didn’t believe in other lives before, I would now.

She stole a glance at her friend. Sandy, who had agreed to come on this trip after a promise of her first and last child as well as anything else she wanted. When they were seven, they swore to be together forever and never refuse each other anything. Unfortunately, Sandy didn’t share her fondness for anything and everything Egyptian—in fact, quite the opposite. Desiree smiled, wondering how someone like Sandy, who thought mummies were spooky, felt now in the presence of this young king. If her friend were honest, as she stood looking at the sarcophagus, the magnificent sarcophagus of King Tutankhamen before her, she couldn’t deny the mysticism surrounding them. Even so, Desiree decided to handle her friend carefully. She knew she had experienced something supernatural, but she didn’t need to put this on her—at least not now.

Desiree whispered, “Thanks for making me come back, or maybe I should say forcing me to come back. I’m glad you did. It means so much that you’re sharing this dream with me. You know better than anyone how long I’ve fantasized about all this.”

“C’mon, don’t get sappy. Besides, you don’t have to thank me because this is one of the most inspiring sights I’ve ever seen.”

Des beamed, “I knew you’d come around.” Excitement quickened her voice. “Loosen up and think about how much time has passed since Tut died in, what was it? 1352 BC, I believe, yet this pharaoh continues to capture people’s imagination all over the world. Think how many make this journey to the Valley of the Kings every year to look at his golden image as we’re doing now. I don’t think the thirst for anything and everything new about his life will ever stop.”

Not waiting for a comment, Des continued. “I know you have to be impressed by the wall paintings. They are magnificent. Say, maybe you could paint something like that when we get home.”

Sandy chuckled. “That’s the spunky monkey I know and love. As for painting something like we’re looking at, I’m just a Sunday painter—you know that. It’s remarkable though these pigments have endured, or at least partially endured, for centuries.” Taking a breath, she went on, “I may not know a lot about all this, but it makes me mad as hell that people touch the tomb walls and leave their brands of destruction—not so different from the grave robbers if you ask me.” Not getting a response, she glanced at Desiree.

“Okay, I’ll get off my soapbox now.” Her comments went unanswered.

“What I’d give to see the tomb as Howard Carter saw it in 1922. Can you imagine his exhilaration?” Sandy started to reply, but Des held up her hand, “I know, I know. We can see the treasures in the Cairo Museum, but it’s not the same as actually seeing them in the original tomb.”

Sandy released a sigh. “What I was going to say, if you’d give me a chance, there’s something eerie about the dead confronting the living like this, or suppose you could say the living confronting the dead.”

“In a way, but if you had read more about the Egyptians’ beliefs before we came…”

“So I should have read more—too late now.”

Des finally managed to tear her eyes from the glorious vision before her and noticed she and Sandy were alone.

“Hey, we’re by our lonesome. How about that?”

“Didn’t notice—too caught up in this.”

They smiled, enjoying a special moment. Des whispered, “Absolutely wondrous! This is by far the most glorious sight I’ve ever seen.”

Sandy didn’t answer but rubbed her arm reassuringly. “Hey, your arm is cold as ice and you’re trembling. It’s hot as H-E-double L in here. What’s going on?”

Des returned her question with her own. “I don’t know. How could I be cold in a hundred plus degrees?” Her knuckles turned white from gripping the metal fence separating her from the regal coffin before a razor-like sharpness invaded her head.

“I don’t know what’s happening, but I have to get out of here.”

“Out? You want out? Not again.” Sandy’s words echoed in the burial chamber. “We’ve only been back a few minutes. You’ve waited all your life to get here, not to mention that we had to pay extra bucks to get in this tomb, little princess. The tour bus will leave before we get another chance. Calm down and look a little more.”

Des’ face paled. “I mean it. I have to leave.”

They rushed into open air once again.

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HIEROGLYPHS by Kit Wylde

HIEROGLYPHS by Kit Wylde

When a new hieroglyphic alphabet is discovered on an ancient Egyptian scroll, expert archaeologist Joslyn Wetherly is called in to decipher it. Joslyn is obsessed with the scroll, and that obsession threatens her marriage.

But soon her life is threatened as the secrets of the scroll prove dangerous. Before Joslyn realizes what is happening, she is embroiled in a rivalry between two long-dead pharaohs, their Egyptian gods, and past life karmas.

Will Joslyn survive the secrets revealed in the scroll? Or will she be the next victim of the ancient feud?

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An Excerpt from: Hieroglyphs
Copyright © 2001 Kit Wylde

All rights reserved, Wild Child Publishing.

Joslyn shivered in the oppressive, summer heat. The taxi, an old Mercedes, conveyed Sam and her to the university. It darted in and out of traffic, narrowly missing pedestrians and other vehicles on the packed roads. Her stomach churned as she clutched the safety strap.

When she’d come to Egypt for her thesis, its exotic culture, people and energy had enthralled her. The massive entrance building to Cairo University, with its white marble dome and beautiful Arabic architecture, never failed to humble her. It bespoke a veneration of learning seldom seen in the West. But the looming university’s white marble façade looked soiled from smog at a distance, and a mantle of foreboding settled over her.

Sam leaned forward, pointing to the entrance steps. “Right here.”

The taxi bumped up the curb and stopped partly in the walkway. Mistrusting, black eyes flicked over Joslyn’s blond hair before focusing on Sam. In heavily accented English, the driver demanded, “Forty pounds.”

“But you said thirty at the hotel,” Joslyn protested.

The man shrugged and smiled. “Forty pounds.”

“But....”

Sam cut her off. “Here.”

They climbed out of the taxi and started up the steps with Joslyn still objecting, “Sam, he said thirty.”

“So he did, but ten pounds is less than three dollars. Besides, I’d rather not waste time in an argument that wouldn’t have changed his mind.”

In companionable silence, Sam and Joslyn entered the university. The huge, marble columns beckoned. She wanted to lean against one and absorb its soothing coolness. Instead, she turned to Sam.

“Why meet here? I thought you and Dr. Yousef were friends.”

“We are, but Ali thought you might feel more comfortable in a more formal setting than his house...at least for the first meeting.”

“I don’t foresee us needing a second, Sam.”

“You never know.”

She studied him, not trusting his enigmatic reply. “Sam....”

“Ah, there you are, Sam.” A beautifully modulated voice broke in using perfect English. “And you must be the Miss Wetherly that Sam talks so much about.” Keen, dark eyes swept over her in an appraising manner. “It is a pleasure to meet such a lovely colleague.”

He said the words with such honesty she couldn’t take offense. “Thank you, Dr. Yousef.”

“Please call me Ali, and I will call you Joslyn. We do not stand on ceremony here, do we, Sam?”

“No, we don’t.”

“Now that we have that out of the way, why don’t we adjourn to my office so we can begin. Do you have the scroll?”

“Yes, of course,” Joslyn replied. She had to lengthen her stride to keep up with his quick pace.

“Have you been to Cairo before?”

“Yes. I came here for six months while I finished my Master’s thesis.”

“I don’t remember you.”

“You were on sabbatical that semester.”

“Ah.” Ali turned to Sam. “How long will you be staying?”

Sam glanced surreptitiously at Joslyn before answering. “A few days.”

“A few days?” Ali looked at Sam.

“Unless we have to stay a little longer.”

Joslyn eyed the two men. An undercurrent ran between them. Sam wasn’t telling her everything, but she couldn’t decipher his reasons for withholding any information. Any questions would have to wait until they returned to the hotel, if she read Sam right. “Well, I am expected back on Friday, but I will do everything I can to see that this is completed by then.”

“Here we are.” Ali held the door open for them to enter.

Bookcases covered nearly every inch of wall space. Books and journals filled approximately half of the shelves. She recognized most of the titles. Many were Ali’s, but there were a few by other noted Egyptologists. A large number of the archeological journals had reputations for publishing his work. The other half of the bookcase held translations of ancient scrolls. Having spent hours of research pouring over such documents, Joslyn knew with a glance which translation belonged to which Egyptologist. Again, he had a mixture of his and other experts’, including herself. He had placed a few artifacts in precise positions that displayed them to their best advantage. And the replica of.... A replica? She moved closer to get a better look.

“Ah, I see you have caught me.” A smile warmed his voice. His proximity unnerved her. Reaching around her, he gently picked up the miniature, gold Tutankhamen mask. “Yes, it is an original. It was a ‘gift’ from the government. I only hold it in stewardship.” Abruptly, he replaced it and moved away, taking a seat behind his desk. “Come. Sit. Show me the scroll.”

Reverently, Joslyn removed the scroll from its protective waterproof container and laid it out on Ali’s massive, mahogany desk. They leaned closer to examine the ancient papyrus. The sunlight pouring in from the tall window behind them cast an ethereal glow on the scroll. Before her stunned gaze, the scroll gathered the sunlight into the hieroglyphs. The faded ink lines emitted the luminous, golden radiance of the sun. With each passing second, the light grew brighter. A whirring sound, like the flapping wings of thousands of ibises rising from the Nile, crescendoed to a deafening roar. With a loud clap, the roar softened to a hum that faded away to absolute silence. Golden points of light danced around Joslyn like a halo in a mystical painting, as if she was touched by the gods.

Everything melded into one, then split into tiny molecules that bounced and cavorted in the sparkling light. It seemed to have a will of its own, swirling as if in a kaleidoscope. Joslyn tottered and struggled to remain erect. Gripping the table, she blinked several times, futilely trying to clear her vision. The light coalesced into recognizable objects, and her legs collapsed. She clawed at the table as she slipped to the floor under the weight of nearly 4,000 years of waiting. Unable to move and terrified, she watched in fascinated horror while a gold mask materialized above her and floated down to lightly rest upon her face. The mask seeped into her pores, and a surge of energy jolted through her. Her body convulsed with the impact. It was then that she knew Hatchepsut had joined them.

“Joslyn?”

Sam’s voice barely penetrated the haze surrounding Joslyn’s consciousness. His face swam in front of her. She attempted to respond, but her lips wouldn’t move. Again, she tried. Nothing happened. She felt pasted to the floor for a split second, and then her soul slipped free to hover just below the ceiling. The silver strand of energy seemed far too fragile to keep her displaced soul attached to her possessed body. In disbelief, she watched the scene unfold.

“Joslyn?” Sam crouched down next to her.

“I am Maatkare.” The thready whisper of ancient Egyptian slithered past Joslyn’s lips.

“But there was only one Maatkare...Hatchepsut.” Ali’s eyebrows rose. “Sam, what is this—hocus pocus?”

With a jerk, her body stood and faced Ali. A fiery, angry, orange circle formed around her, pulsing. Heavily accented English grated out. “You doubt me?”

Both men physically flinched. The voice sounded like sandpaper on metal.

“I....” Ali scrambled in retreat.

“So, you are an unbeliever.” Scornful eyes raked Ali’s slim frame. “Perhaps the gods were mistaken.”

Ali visibly trembled under Hatchepsut’s menacing glare. “N-no. I am the one you seek.”

“Then prostrate yourself before your pharaoh.” Hatchepsut turned chilly eyes to Sam. One eyebrow raised in question.

“I am American. We don’t have a pharaoh.”

Her nostrils twitched in irritation.

He quickly added, “But I didn’t say that I didn’t believe you.”

Her gaze flicked back to Ali. “Up. Show me the scroll.”

Ali pointed to the desk.

Hatchepsut caressed the papyrus. A small smile flickered on her face, lighting it with affection before she returned her gaze to the quaking Ali. “Merit will translate this for you tomorrow. Listen carefully.” With a sigh, Hatchepsut left Joslyn’s body.

Joslyn’s soul snapped back into her body, and she slumped over the desk, exhausted. Painfully lifting herself from the table, she said, “Sam…can we return to the hotel now, please?”

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