Gold Silence

me.

Prologue: The Oasis

He had to be alive. There was no way the coward would have given up his life, his immortality. The man barked orders at his accomplices over his shoulder. They exchanged hesitant glances atop their horses.

The day was hot, the sun extra cruel, and, every so often, a gust of wind blew sand into their faces, gritty grains somehow finding their way between their teeth, tasting like some kind of bitter seasoning on a bland meal.

Five men riding five Arabian steeds that seemed as anxious as the group's leader.

I think this is the spot, he called after a few seconds more. He halted his horse in front of an ancient crumbling building that sat in front of a background of distant desert mountains. The other four men lingered, sitting and watching as their leader dismounted. Two of the horses pawed the sand and jingled their bits. Another pranced on the spot. They'd been riding for a while, yet, the horses acted as if they'd barely warmed up. Though Arabians were known for their stamina, the accomplices couldn't help wondering whether or not the horses had somehow been exposed to immortality too.

The group's leader muttered something in Arabic under his breath, then faced the men and shouted in English, What are you waiting for?

Each accomplice sighed and dismounted. Though they understood and even sympathized with their leader's motives, they wondered every day how much longer they'd have to search. Would fate soon send them what they sought, or would they spend eternity wandering and looking under rocks that hid nothing, not even insects?

What if he's not here? one of the accomplices asked as they walked up to the building. What do we do then?

We wait as long as it takes, he growled. He's bound to come back here sooner or later. I have a good feeling this time. Fate is beginning to notice us.

The accomplices said nothing else but knew what each other was thinking. If they found him this time, they would be loyal and see the plan carried through. If not... Even immortals had a limit on patience, their own lives to live.

What should we do with the horses? one of the men asked.

Leave their saddles and bridles here and turn them loose, replied the leader. This is an oasis. Water isn't far away, and they'll be nearby when we return. We'll need them then.

If we return, one of the accomplices muttered.

Still, the four men did as instructed, then followed their leader into the gaping, decrepit building.

After a few minutes of looking around, a glass case caught their attention. Engraved with writing for tourists' benefits, the display housed two embracing skeletons.

This is the spot, the leader said. It has to be.

Sure enough, when he made an attempt, a bright portal formed and appeared. He almost smiled at that, but not quite; there was still a lot to be accomplished.

After you, he began, turning to his accomplices, or should I do the honors?

He spoke again before any of them could answer. Never mind. You gentlemen first. I don't trust you.

The men looked back at the bright, wavering desert oasis and saw a couple of the horses galloping out of sight, streaking across the sand like wild unreachable creatures.

Then, one by one, each of the accomplices stepped into the new light their leader had created.

I'll find you, he muttered. If I have to wait one or thousands of years more, I'll find you. And then, you'll suffer for what you did.

He followed his men into the light, ready to search and, if that proved unsuccessful, to take position and wait like a hunter nestled into a vantage point. Patience, poise, precision... It was time to stop looking. Yes, if he waited in the right place carefully and long enough, his prey would come to him.

Site 1: Snow Hill, Maryland

Chapter 1: Fewer Interruptions

Love, laughter, and lavender dances. If only this moment could have lasted forever. No worries whatsoever. I didn't know my blood would spill soon, didn't know the next dress I touched would be deadly. But only I could fix my problems. Problems, as of now, I didn't know existed.

Every boxer in the room, me included, was a terrible dancer. But Martha didn't care, as long as she was in Cliff's arms. And I didn't care, as long as I was in Whistler's.

Whistler, love of my life. I closed my eyes and rested my chin on his shoulder as a new slow song started, probably getting makeup all over his tux. Only rare occasions warranted lipstick and foundation, and my ex-boxing/kickboxing instructor marrying my mom's fiancé's daughter was definitely a special occasion.

This is going to be us one day, he murmured.

It's us now, I teased, pulling back to look at his face.

He smiled that dry smile that had twisted my heart infinite times. "We're going to be dancing at our wedding one day."

I smoothed a strand of messy dirty-blond hair from his eyes, those green, green eyes...

Even after a year and a half, I found myself marveling at how we'd come together. Incredibly long story short: fate and magic. Cliff, still my trainer then, had taken me to a local secret boxing joint called Man Cave to interview a boxer for my senior project (I was still in high school then, too). I'd been drawn to Whistler after he'd started a fight in the crowd on his way to the boxing ring, so I'd tracked him down in the men's locker him to interview him.

From there, things had escalated, until my absent-my-whole-life dad, Zahid, whom I looked more like than Mom, had shown up and told me we were descendants of the Egyptian goddess Selket and needed to return an amulet to an alternate Egypt called Post World at the risk of dropping dead without warning. Bonus, Whistler carried some of the amulet's power after my vengeful also-absent-my-whole-life grandparents, Fadila and Naim, had tricked him into absorbing it. Mind blown again, they'd been his foster parents when he was a child somewhere in Nebraska.

After hearing about that whole mess, Cliff and Sheridan, a very tall trainer for advanced fighters at the gym (not to mention exceptional flirt), had volunteered to absorb power too so they could buy us more time before dropping dead and help us return the artifact. But my grandparents wanted revenge on Zahid because they blamed him for my aunt's death, who'd died in Post World years before, and so she tried to take his daughter away, me, by sending me and the guys into Post World without a guidebook that had been passed down from generation to generation.

And then, when we finally got into Post World, an anonymous thief stole the amulet. We had to chase after him through mummies that tried to claw my guts out and crocodiles that swam in a pool of poison and venom and all kinds of terrible weird stuff. We even had to pause when Cliff totally blindsided me by admitting he loved me. He kissed me, so I had to hurt him, but the awkwardness dissipated when he caught up to the thief and had our minds blown all over again.

Of anyone possible, Tut, as in Tutankhamen, had stolen the amulet. But not the Tut everyone knows from history books. No, this Tut had been made an immortal by Selket. This Tut had faked his own death with his brother's body with Selket's help, walked away from his responsibilities, and, after wandering aimlessly for who knew how long, had met and fallen in love with Drusilla of Mauretania, Cleopatra's granddaughter. And he'd been trapped in Selket's Post World looking for her after losing her a long time before and, after I'd found her trapped in a crocodile's sarcophagus (yes, a crocodile's sarcophagus), he'd expressed his gratitude. Safe to say, after that, I could have believed anything.

Except when, during the chaos involved in leaving a Post World, a crocodile had taken Whistler between his teeth, keeping him there while Cliff yanked me through the portal back to Earth, away from danger.

I'd sobbed for a month.

But on my eighteenth birthday, Zahid had brought him back to me, where he'd explained Tut and Drusilla had saved him, and we'd gone happily ever after off to college in Tennessee.

And now, at Cliff's wedding, things were still blissfully danger free.

Sheridan, his milk-chocolate shoulder-length hair slicked back for the occasion, chatted up a bridesmaid at the open bar. I put my head back on Whistler's shoulder and watched Sheridan spill a little red wine and stain her pale-purple dress, the same one I wore. She just laughed it off and kept on talking. Sheridan handed her a napkin. She thanked him.

And now, I'd like to invite everyone onto the floor for a faster beat.

I grinned when Mom accepted a chivalrous hand offered by Mack, her fiancé, father of the bride, and jolly owner of everyone's favorite local restaurant in Snow Hill, Mack's Shack.

Taking a couple of steps away from Whistler, I pretended to scan the room for a dance partner. Hmm. Let's see if I can find a guy to sweep me off my feet. I yelped. I didn't mean literally! I fought to get down as he carried me onto the dance floor but eventually gave up, like when he'd carried me after I'd gotten dizzy from a second concussion in Post World.

As much as I'd enjoyed seeing everyone in Snow Hill again, I was ready to go back to Tennessee, back to the gym, where we liked to spar flirtatiously after our last students left. AKA, throwing a couple of halfhearted punches before making out.

Your mom looks happy, Whistler said when she and Mack smiled and waved to us from across the dance floor.

Yeah, she does.

"How does Zahid feel about her and Mack?

I shrugged. He understands. I watched Mack excuse himself to steal Martha away from Cliff. Before either of us could say anything else, Cliff surprised me by heading in our direction, strands of his gelled black hair starting to fly rogue from all the dancing. Your mom's man stole my bride, he said, smiling at me, then looked at Whistler. Mind if I steal your girl for the rest of the dance, Whistler? Even now, Cliff and Whistler's friendship was weird to me.

If you must, Whistler said, setting me down. Bring her back fast, okay?

He squeezed my hand before joining Sheridan, who'd apparently scared off the bridesmaid he'd been talking to. Why wasn't I surprised?

I put the same on Cliff's shoulder, and we attempted to dance without stepping on each other's feet. It took a few tries before we eventually settled for swaying on the spot. So, you have a Mrs. now. I kicked my heels off. Cliff was like six-foot-something, around Whistler's height, but wearing them brought my face too close to his. Without them, I was still tall, but at least I had a couple more inches of space now. We'd had no awkwardness since he'd started dating and gotten engaged to Martha, but I wanted to keep it that way.

That I do.

I smiled. How does it feel to be married?

Weird. He paused. What about you and Whistler? You guys thinking of tying the knot anytime soon?

Unable to help myself, I teased, No, we're too young. Marriage is for old people. Grinning, I added, Maybe in a couple of years.

You do realize that if Mack and Cvijeta get married, I'll be your stepbrother-in-law.

And you would make the best step-brother-in-law ever.

Whistler came back when the dance ended. When the announcer declared that the last dance of the night, Cliff said, I need to go retrieve my bride for our honeymoon. Glancing at Whistler, he said, Take care of Selk in Tennessee, dude.

Whistler nodded, and Cliff squeezed my hand. But instead of walking away, he pulled me in for a hug, a tight hug. I hugged him back.

Maybe the next time Whistler and I visit, we can help you and Sheridan teach Martha how to throw a punch.

Definitely, he said, pulling back. Then, without looking me in the eye, he walked away.

We all lined up outside of the reception room to see Cliff and Martha off, her face glowing along with the jewels in her dress and hair in the reception lights. Vaguely, I remembered hoping Cliff would find someone else when he was sulking over me, and I'd pictured him with a tall pretty blonde. It was weird, thinking about that. The girl I'd pictured had had that same glow Martha did now as she clung to Cliff's arm. Had that been fate? Intuition? I smiled, wanting to think so.

Sheridan pounded them with rice as they ran to their cab. After Cliff helped Martha in, he caught my gaze. I smiled at him encouragingly.

But before he could get into the cab himself, my smile faded, turned into a gasp. Several gasps. Struck dumb by the pain, I was barely aware of myself doubling over.

Selk? Selk! Whistler caught me by the waist, keeping me from sinking to my knees. I heard several murmurs and footsteps, but could only concentrate on the inexplicable, breathtaking pain that spread from my chest to my stomach.

Whistler and Cliff's terrified faces were the last things I saw before blacking out.

*~*~*~*

But there has to be a reason. Mom's voice, far away. You don't think it's a serious issue, do you? One that goes beyond standard tests?

It's difficult to say. A strange male voice. All I know is that every test we've done so far has produced negative results. She's in perfect health. Healthier than most patients I see for routine checkups, in fact.

So we can see her now? Whistler.

Yes. Go on in. But not too many at once. She doesn't need to be overwhelmed.

I'll stay here with Martha. Mack? You three go.

When I opened my eyes, I saw that I was closed off from the world by a large curtain. When it slid back, I was blinking heavily, trying to make sense of what had happened.

Mom rushed to my bedside, her pale-blonde head cutting in front of Whistler. Her face was streaked with tears, and she looked like she could burst into a fresh round of sobs at any moment. Mom, what happened? I looked at Whistler, then Cliff. You're supposed to be on a plane.

Not with you in the hospital. He walked to the other side of my bed. You okay?

Yeah. I don't know what happened. Mom broke down then, choking on a stampede of sobs. Mom, it's all right. I'm fine. She opened her mouth to say something, but hugged me instead before leaving the room, all but wailing.

I met Whistler's concerned gaze. Why is she acting like that? I just heard the doctor say he couldn't find anything wrong. And I felt normal, almost as good as new, like I'd just woken up from a full peaceful night's sleep.

That's why, Cliff explained. Before Post World, she probably spent your whole life afraid that you'd drop dead without warning any moment despite being in perfect health. She must have never gotten over that.

Well, tell her not to worry, I said. The amulet was the last artifact, and it's tucked away in Tut's sarcophagus. No one is going to drop dead. Plus, that was definitely a warning.

Whistler sat on my bedside, still in his groomsman getup. But that was still strange. Scary strange. It was scary strange. But I didn't want to dwell on it. Maybe it had just been some one-time inexplicable freak thing.

But what would I do if it happened again and the doctors still couldn't find anything?

You really should go, Cliff, I said. I'll be fine. He opened his mouth to protest, but I cut him off. Seriously. Go. It's not fair to Martha.

Cliff nodded as if suddenly remembering his bride. You're sure? GO!

He walked to the other side of my bed and gave me a hug. Take care of her, Whistler.

You don't have to keep reminding me.

His face grim, Cliff glanced back at me as he left the room,