behind Marissa’s windows. A snap of his fingers brought Sargent to his heel. The dog took his position and gazed up at him, tongue lolling out of his mouth as he panted from his exertions and his excitement.
“Wow, Jacks, that dog’s a beast,” Officer Carl Manheim panted as he came toddling and hopping up to them, the bite suit he was wearing too bulky to allow for any grace and even less dignity. There were better made suits these days, but their tiny little department with only two K-9 units in training didn’t rate such costly equipment. They had to make do with ancient leftovers inherited from the Albany police department.
Jackson pulled his cap down to shade his face, his sunglasses protecting his burning eyes from the sunlight. He felt heavy and tired, as though he were slogging through a marshland full of thick, sucking mud. He would be glad when training was finally complete. This weakness to sunlight he’d inherited along with a certain Egyptian monarch was beating the Christ out of him. And from what he had come to understand, he was lucky to be moving at all. According to Ram and to Menes himself, the only reason he was able to move at all was because Menes was slowing down the Blending process to an infinitesimal rate and because Menes himself was incredibly powerful and had the strength necessary to buck the one weakness that dogged a Bodywalker’s heels.
This was perhaps why Menes was pharaoh over all the other Bodywalkers. Even above powerful, dominant men in their own right like Menes’s best friend Ramses.
Ramses II.
Holy hell. It had been three weeks since Jackson had nearly died, only to be saved by making a strange deal in order to save his own life. He remembered every single detail of everything that had happened. He remembered the agony of being hit with a searing blast of power known as the Curse of Ra. He remembered the force of it propelling him back through yards of air, and he very clearly recalled the feeling of crashing violently into a car windshield.
Then there had been nothing. A world of floating, disembodied nothingness. The Ether, they called it. A dimension of foggy clouds and barely existent beings you could feel rather than see. But then he had seen Menes, a tall, dark-skinned warrior, a tower of strength and well-defined musculature and very little in the way of clothing.
Then he remembered the proposition.
Die now … or live as host to me. We will share your body; Blend our spirits. One man made of two souls. I am a king, a powerful central figure in a world beyond anything you have comprehended before this. With this position comes not only heavy responsibility, but also very persistent enemies. Enemies who will want us dead.
It had not been a prettied-up offer, had not been glorified, and Menes had made him no promises save one …
Join with me and I will show you many things you never would have expected to understand … but most of all, I will show you a love like no other. I will introduce you to the most perfect woman in all known history. You will know a love that will transcend anything you can conjure in your mind.
There had been many factors that had intrigu; line-height:1.4em; } div.toc_. ied him into agreeing, but he secretly admitted to himself that this particular one had held a curious amount of appeal to him.
“Thanks, Manheim,” he said absently as he bent to scrub at Sargent’s ruff. The dog grunted and groaned happily.
This would be the last safe day in the sun for Jackson. It had been three weeks since that bargain had been struck. Tonight the Blending would become complete, according to Menes, and daylight would be taken from him for the rest of his life. It had surprised Landon, his boss, when he had volunteered for third watch. Usually night watch was for rookies who hadn’t earned enough seniority to get the day shift. But it was the only option open to Jackson if he wanted to continue at his job.
Oh, he understood he would have to give up his position in the Saugerties, New York, police department eventually. Perhaps sooner than later. The Bodywalker seat of government was somewhere in New Mexico, the desert apparently feeling very much like home to these ancient Egyptians.
But he had some unfinished business that needed taking care of, and Menes was inclined to agree. Together, he