THE GOD'S WIFE Read Free Page B

few minutes until Rebecca touched his chin and lifted his face.
    “What’s wrong?” she said.
    “You’re going to be gone so far away. I don’t want to sound clingy, but Paris, London. That’s a lot of traveling ...”
    “Don’t worry. We have the Internet. I’ll chat with you every day. And Skype. I’ll call. It won’t last so very long. Maybe you can even force that magazine to give you a vacation and meet me in Paris.”
    He brightened for a moment. “Maybe ...” His voice was doubtful, but his eyes glittered with hope.
    She hesitated before continuing about her tour. She’d left out so much. Did he know how terrified she felt about blanking out? She danced well, she knew that. But what about the chance of wandering in a void on stage? Losing time in a performance? She’d been having these mysterious reality slips too long now, and she worried it could happen again. Look what just happened in Buckley’s class. She straightened up and took a deep, cleansing breath.
    “Let’s go to Tut’s and party,” she said, determined to vanquish her negative self-talk. She finished her wine, put her feet on the ground and took Jonas’ hand. They whirled onto the street again, jumped into his red Audi and peeled off to Tut’s Dance Club on the North Side.
    As she watched the skyline whiz by, she wondered if someone who had seen her space out in class would sabotage her in the role. Or what if a dancer more talented — impossible! — could take it all away? Those freakish moments of nothingness? What were they? How could she defeat them? Did she dare tell Jonas without worrying him to death?
    A choice stood before her as solid as the skyscrapers they passed. Accept the dream of her life or remain trapped by a psychological problem she couldn’t even name. There was no possible way to hang on to them both. But, because secrets lived so deep in her heart, she wondered if she could let anything go.

Chapter Two
    Treading so her student’s braided papyrus sandals would not bruise a pebble on the massive sandstone steps at the entrance to Karnak temple, Neferet grabbed one of the great entrance pylons and felt her entire body trembling. Of all the times she had been here, she’d never entered via the glorious, flag-bedecked front door. Its enormous presence, guarded by sphinxes, carved depictions of storied battles and tablets detailing exploits of the gods, left her reeling.
    A massive guard stalked over her way to ask her business, and she produced a scroll with Maya’s name. It was far too soon for Maya’s funeral, for the embalming process would take forty to seventy days, depending on how elaborate Pharaoh wanted to arrange it. So the community created a memorial ceremony to remember Maya’s life in the interim. It broke temple rules, but the sudden death of a God’s Wife was not the norm. Neferet, as a temple student, was invited.
    “Get in there,” the beefy, smelly sentry growled, unable to read the hieroglyphs but able to see Neferet had a temple pass. “It’s already started.”
    She skittered inside, unsure of where to go in the massive building, drawn by the thrumming of male voices, all pitched at a mournful key. She plunged through the mighty temple, past the tall columns painted to look like lotus flowers, past the usual chapels and niches where she studied the stories of the gods or learned hieroglyphs. She drew farther into the areas that often stood off limits to mere priestesses-in-training, slowing her steps. All the while, her senses filled with dirge-like singing and her head swam in a billow of sickly-sweet incense.
    A whisk of white linen announced the end of her trek. There stood a few classmates, all with heads bowed, listening to the ceremony that celebrated Maya’s life. Neferet tried to blend in, but several students looked askance at her tardiness and shuffled away. She ended up against a wall, somewhat near the crowd but also near a group of civilian men who had gathered —