Sneak Peek
AT ROSLYN ST. CLAIR’S
TYING THE KNOT WITH ANUBIS: A Monster Brides Romance
Anubis
Present Day, Chapel Hill, NC
“Seriously, Ramu? You’re getting tears in my tea. Again.” Disgusted, I push the cup away before I look up at the quietly sobbing mummy.
Drat. My tone hit him with the velocity of swung baseball bat, and his flinch in response just makes me feel like the worst sort of god imaginable.
“Sorry, Anubis. I’ll go cry in the closet.” The mummy turns away and heads for the nearest enclosed space, empty silver tray dragging along the polished onyx floor.
Since the tray is his, a remnant of his married life, purchased in 1890, I can’t snipe at him about the damage he’s doing to the metal. But damned if he isn’t ruining my stone. I can complain about that.
But before I do, I take a deep breath, something I’ve learned to do from reading self-help books.
Good thing they were invented, too, since the seventies were particularly trying years, what with Ramu caterwauling through all the nice sit-ins we attended.
Cat would have loved this. Cat would have loved that.
Every peaceful protest another memory of his dead wife to be endured.
And the misery… by Ra’s barque, the misery.
Only once I’ve sufficiently steadied my nerves do I apologize through gritted teeth. “I’m sorry to snap, Ramu. I understand your pain.”
And I do. Mostly. Unfortunately, nothing, certainly not an apology, can arrest the fountain of misery that’s him once he begins to flow.
And honestly, he’s dampening his bandages.
They’re going to stink of mildew. Again.
I’ll have to send him out to sunbathe on the rooftop to dry out and kill whatever bacteria grows.
Again. Wash, rinse, repeat. How many times must we replay this scene?
Be more compassionate. You risk following in your father’s footsteps, my brain—or is it my heart?—whatever… something reminds me.
Wouldn’t want to turn into a chip off that old block, would we?
I rub the fur between my upright ears, trying to silence the pang of headache forming there. In my defense, having listened to the mummy wail about the loss of his beloved for over a hundred and fifty years, which has to be counted as too obsessive even for a reformed rake, my nerves jangle.
Yes, it was my idea to make Ramu my… well, why put too fine a point on it?
Slave. But there’s always a price to be paid for avoiding death, and this is his: eternity on earth, keeping me company.
And there’s also my father in the mix. Even if I wished to grant Ramu’s endless pleas for death, he would be forced to stick around to complete Set’s mission.
Ramu is the dangling ax above my head. And I’m the one who strung him there.
“Look,” I say, forcing a more moderate tone, “I realize you miss Lady Catherine, but the old you, the one I recruited far back in ancient Egypt, could rise above any challenge. That’s the mummy to whom I gifted an eternity in my blessed company.”
“You’re really bad at sarcasm, you know?”
Was I being sarcastic? I wave my hand, erasing the notion. “To my point, I chose you for your deceit and aptitude.” The eternity part came later when I was feeling too much… and too little. “Plus, your love will fade if you’ll only give it half a chance.”
His expression twists. “That’s rich, coming from you. You know nothing of love, God of Death. When you stop wallowing in your unrequited adoration of Bastet, send me a memo.”
His measured words burrow into my chest like pointed arrows. The truth so often cuts deepest.
I tap my fingers on my desk. Deep breath, grit teeth, again. “My point is, you’re never going to see Cat again, no matter how miserable you try to make me. I’m powerless where she’s concerned. Different afterlife, and all that. Furthermore, you knew the risks of eternity when you bargained for it.”
“Bully for me then for serving an all-powerful god. Go Team Anubis.” He lifts his bony hand into the air and makes a fist with a hand and arm seeming almost entirely without muscle. “Yay.”
“That’s the spirit, though with a bit more enthusiasm, if you would.”
He narrows his eyes and points a bone finger at me. “You promised you’d allow me my sorrow.”
“But not being omniscient, how could I have known it would be so unending? A century should have sufficed.”
“I live for your wisdom, oh Great One.”
Tongue-in-cheek, snarky bugger. I take another fortifying breath. “Look, I’m only saying…”
“Whatever.” He holds up his hand just like a nasty teenager, cutting me off.
“I was just settling into my misery. Getting used to it. But then you had to go buy this place.” He gestures around my office.
“‘Let’s all go into the mortuary business,’ you said.
‘It will occupy our days,’ you said. And let me tell you what a kick to my funny bone it’s been, being around mourners all day who miss their others like I miss my wife.
” With an enormous sigh powerful enough to blow a ship down the Nile, he adds, “Will there be anything else, you sanctimonious prick?”
“You…” I take a deep, deep breath as I tamp down my emotions until my lungs threaten to fall out of my feet. “Yes, as a matter of fact, there is something. I’ve got an important errand this afternoon…”
“Is it on the calendar?”
“No, I only just decided...”
“But you always have me put everything on the calendar.” His expression creases with puzzlement. At least the tears have subsided. Nothing like a rousing verbal assault and lambasting of the god who employs him to set things right. For the moment.
“At any rate, we’ll need to delay Mrs. Hodges’s appointment to view caskets by an hour to allow me to make my appointment.
My appointment… I don’t know if I’m moving too fast or too slow, or what she’ll think once I’ve made my first official move. We’ve been dancing around us for months from a comfortable distance. But I can’t take it anymore. I want her, I’m fairly certain she wants me, and…
And anyway, it will be an hour away from Ramu and his contagious grief, even if I should fail with Roxy. Silver linings, and all that.
“Schedule shouldn’t be a problem. Bob’s already downstairs having breakfast in the kitchen. He can take Hodges if you’re not around. Anything else?”
I force my mind back on business. “The bus crash victims need to be slotted somewhere. Six funerals. The arrangements are going to be a bit hairy. Ask Wep if he can help Bob with sales and planning. If Wep has too much on his plate, you’ll need to jump in.
And give me a reminder in a few days to see about hiring new help.
We’re growing too fast. Oh, and did I mention I’ll be teaching the make-up class on Monday, so you’ll have to clear my morning calendar? ”
“I’ll get on it.” Ramu straightens his spine.
He may have lived his first life as a ne’er-do-well, but in his second, he’s learned the value of organization.
“And Wep already volunteered last night when he got wind of the accident.” He looks down at the shendyt he wears over his exposed flesh and black bandages.
It’s casual dress for all of us before we open for clients.
“I’ll change into a suit right away. We’ll get it done. ”
He's a good man, for a depressive mummy.
When he’s gone, I wave the first tear-dripped tea into the ethers and pour myself a new cup from the pot before I set my attention on the class I’m teaching at the local university.
Before I lose my idiotic students to Spring Break, I need a visual to reinforce the concepts I’ve been trying to drill into their thick skulls.
A trip to the local museum to view the exhibit on ancient Egyptian funerary practices should do the trick.
I’ll set it for the weekend before Spring Break.
It will be one additional chance to see Roxy, a needed zhuzh to our weekly exchange of heated glances, and another opportunity to woo her if she declines my invitation today.
When her car mysteriously fails to start after the trip, I’ll offer her a ride home.
Dinner first, of course. I’m not a savage.
Unless she stops auditing my class, which is possible if I don’t play matters correctly today. Too strong, and I’ll lose her. She’s the independent sort. Not strong enough, and she won’t realize how much I want her in my bed. She might mistake my interest for friendship.
The biggest trouble is that she might not be into a professor as old as dirt, and if I make my move while on CHU campus grounds, she’ll either feel obligated to go to the Dean of Students and complain, or she’ll feel compelled to give in to me. Either course would be troubling.
Ramu grumbles through the door again and throws the scheduling binder onto my desk. “Bob says he’s got a headache and you should do the bus thing with me.”
The problem with human employees is that they can be tiresome. And lazy. And they’ve unfortunately come to appreciate that I’m unlikely to kill them for giving me sass, backtalk, and irreverence.
“Can’t kill him, but I offer myself up as willing tribute in his place,” Ramu says, intuiting my thoughts. His gaze latches onto the sheet of paper upon which I’ve doodled while I drank my tea. “Who’s Roxy?”
“None of your business.” I slip the page under the sheaf of papers, and only after do I realize my mistake.
“Really.” His eyes brighten with sudden interest, which I’d appreciate except for the direction of his newfound inquisitiveness. “Someone to warm your bed? Future employee? Or both?”
A spark of joy wings through me as the mummy gives me the perfect idea to solve my dilemma. Of course—I’ll offer her a job!
I jump to my feet, stopping only to clap Ramu on the shoulder as I move to exit my office at Anpu Funerary. “You deserve a raise, Ramu. How much do I pay you now?”
“Nothing. I just steal whatever’s in your wallet every night.”
Hmm. “That strikes me as being inefficient, but it will have to suffice for the moment. I’ll try to carry more cash in lieu of a raise. Good man. And tell Bob he’ll work the bus accident, or he’ll wish to have been a victim of it.”
But before I leave the office, I shift into my full jackal form, the better to employ my senses, as well as to walk stealthily among humans who’ll only see a great, mindless dog.
Peering through the ethers, I lock onto Roxy.
She’s the first female who’s made me feel this excited since my fearful union with Bastet.
Maybe it’s because the two of them look so similar, with their dark auburn hair, pointed chins, high cheekbones, and green tilted eyes.
The similarities end there, though. While Bastet nearly matched me in height, Roxy is a foot shorter. Bastet was long and sleek as a cat. Roxy is curved and soft, like…
Well. Like she’s forged to pillow me as I pump into her.
And… now I’m salivating, the worst problem with being in jackal form. I turn through the ethers anyway. I’ve got some scouting to do before I approach Roxy, and if great ropes of saliva hang from my teeth, no one will want to pet me.
Rainbows and silver linings in clouds, everywhere.