Cleopatra's Secret: Keepers of the LIght

Praise for Lydia Storm

“Storm has written a book brimming with twists and turns.”

–
Romantic Times Book Reviews

“
Embrace of the Vampire
plays the vampire/victim dynamic to the hilt and packs a substantial erotic punch!”

–
Entertainment Weekly

“This is a book you will not be able to put down.”

–
You Gotta Read Reviews

“
Moonlight on Diamonds
is a pleasure to read, with layers of mystery that will keep you guessing to the end.”

–
Long and Short Reviews

“Anyone who loves a good thriller involving jewel thieves and romance would LOVE this book.”

–
Between the Lines

“I couldn’t wait to find out who would end up with the Hope Diamond, so I eagerly turned the pages, and I didn’t put the book down until the end.”

–
Nights&Weekend Review.com

“
Moonlight on Diamonds
was like an interactive game of Clue…full of surprises all around.”

–
Romance Junkies

“If you like humorous characters, impossible odds, and a twisted plot, you will find lots to love in
Moonlight on Diamonds!
”

–
Manic Readers

THE KEEPERS OF THE LIGHT

by

Lydia Storm

Smashwords Edition

COPYRIGHT © 2011 by Nicole Coady

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Cleopatra's Secret: The Keepers of the Light

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

Contact Information: [email protected]

Cover Art by Thomas A. Padovan

Baby's First Shakespeare

11 Mcmaster Street

Ballston Spa, NY 12020

Publishing History

First Edition, 2011

ebook ISBN:

Published in the United States of America

“
The difference between history and mythology is that mythology is true. History gets re-written by every generation
.”

–– Guru Singh

INSCRIPTION ON THE TOMB OF CLEOPATRA VII, THEA PHILOPATER

I am the daughter of Isis, Mistress of Magic. I hold the power of worlds between my jeweled fingers. I am keeper of the Mysteries of Egypt. I call up the ocean tempests and calm the shining sea. I am Beauty. I stir agonies of rapture in the night between women and men. No man can resist the rose-petal softness of my dusky skin, the lure of my honey-toned call, or the seduction of delights to be found behind the veil of incense in my dark chamber. I am sister and wife of Osiris. Mother of immortal Horus. I am the Lady of Dreams. I pass like moonbeams through men’s souls revealing the divine light within. I am Lady of Fate. Even the Gods bend to my will. My secrets, like pearls in deep ocean vaults, lie hidden beneath lapping waves––safe from the uninitiated. I am Isis, I am Mother, I am Cleopatra, last Pharaoh of Egypt. The wisdom I hold in my watery tomb shall be revealed again, when Fate will have it so
.

Unnatural, this quiet.

Cleopatra’s jade eyes glittered in the moonlight, her long copper limbs twisted uncomfortably in the fine linen sheets and a faint glow of perspiration covered her softly curved body. She glanced at her infant son, Caesarion, snuggled at her side. His fluttery breath tickled her neck, his chubby hand resting on her collarbone. Her attendants, Iris and Charmion, lay at the foot of her bed peacefully dreaming on silken pallets carried from Alexandria along with the perfumes and incense Cleopatra had brought with her as tokens of her cherished Egypt.

Although this was the most spacious chamber in the villa Caesar had provided for her stay in Rome, it was cramped and crude compared with the fabulous palace she left behind. But then, she expected no more from the Romans, who dedicated their skill and expertise more to the art of destruction than to the fashioning of beautiful homes.

Tonight, however, she had little thought for Roman artistry––or lack of it. With the intense focus of a priestess of Isis, she concentrated on the strange moon which spilled its sickly light across the floor. Only the last quarter remained. Soon the nights would be dark and Black Isis would have her reign.

Carefully rolling her son from her warm breast, Cleopatra placed him in the cradle at her bedside. She walked to the balcony and looked out across the sprawling city below. Not an insect's chirp disrupted the unearthly silence which hung over the capital. In the Field of Mars, no midnight breeze stirred the laurel wreath crowning the brow of Caesar's statue. The Senate’s marble stones gleamed like polished old bones in the waning moonlight and a low fog lay heavy over the Tiber. Her eyes swept across the stone houses that lined the streets. They might almost have been mistaken for tombs of the Necropolis, so silent and mysterious were the sleeping citizens of Rome.

Isis, why this fear?

She gazed up at the cold moon. A cloud drifted across the silvery face of the Goddess and the light softened and diffused. Cleopatra’s limbs were suddenly too heavy. She grasped her forehead as pinpricks of pain surged through her third eye. Blinking back tears, she watched the clouds slowly whirl around the dying moon, swirling faster and faster, until she stood hypnotized by the spinning tunnel of stardust tearing a void in the sky.

With a sharp rush of breath, she lurched back as an intense pressure built in her chest. She grasped the railing for support. But her numbed fingers slipped across the metal as her heart center opened and her immortal
ka
was violently sucked from her chest into the shimmering tornado, leaving her crumpled body on the balcony floor.

She was spinning now, flying, airy as the feather of Ma’at. The light seared her eyes as she hit the whiteness, and for a moment was one with it, before she broke through and entered the Time Out of Time.

She was falling again, falling through billows of storm-gray fog. She reached out and tried to find something solid to grasp, tried to discern some shape or light, but everything was covered by heavy swirling mists. Taking a deep breath, she forced her mind to calm.

This was not, after all, her first time in this place.

As her mind grew steadier, the falling sensation began to still. She floated in the fog, a disembodied form lost in the Time Out of Time.

A familiar odor rose up from somewhere below. It was moist and filled with the aroma of damp fertile earth and soggy green things. Her feet touched muddy ground and she found herself walking along the banks of the Nile through the marshy Land of the Reeds––gateway to the Land of the Dead.

As the mists thinned, a black sarcophagus became visible floating in the murky water. Dread rose up from the pit of her stomach.

What lay in there?

Cleopatra splashed into the river, the warm currents dragging at her linen skirts, impeding her progress. She reached out to touch the coffin, but just as her fingertips brushed the smooth granite, it floated farther downstream. Diving into the water, she swam up to the side of the sarcophagus, determined this time to reach it, but once more the Nile carried it just beyond her grasp.