The Tour Guide
Well, this is one hell of a reason to come out of hiding.
The other gods wouldn’t be looking, surely. She was just one face in a crowd, in the hundreds of people who probably flooded the museum every day. None of them would be lurking here. Well, none except one – but he had no reason to think anyone else was on his side.
Khonshu is insolent, the voice in her head had told her, the only voice that wasn’t her own. He is disrespectful, completely lacking in tact or strategy. But about this, he is right.
Khonshu. Her benefactor had no real love for the god of the moon, and Zara could see why. He’d gotten himself banished, which was presumably why his avatar was now working in this museum, under an alias. Marc Spector had taken to calling himself Steven Grant, of all things – a remarkably familiar-sounding name to most, so much so that Zara often wondered why no-one he knew questioned it. Maybe there just weren’t that many Captain America fans here. It was London, after all.
And there he was, seeming to make a point of avoiding managerial detection as he wandered near the exhibits. Head down, walking slowly down the hall, completely engrossed in whatever he was reading. Well, no time to waste. Zara pointedly turned her attention a little further down the corridor, stepping back at just the right moment –
“Oh!” The gasp that left her mouth sounded forced, even to her, as she stumbled backward, straight into him. Marc – or Steven, if you believed his name tag – grunted as she collided with him, arms shooting out instantly to stop her fall. Her eyes widened in surprise as he caught her, forcing herself upright in pretend embarrassment. “Oh my god, I’m so – ”
“Sorry!” Steven blurted, staggering back from her, arms stiffly at his sides. “Oh my days, I didn’t see you at all, too busy reading and I just – ”
“No, no, it was all my fault,” Zara replied quickly, the British accent flowing off her tongue with surprising ease, despite years of neglect. “I guess I got a bit too into reading as well.”
Steven was staring at her, and for a split-second, she thought he’d seen right through her. Then he shook his head, seeming to break himself out of a trance. “You were reading this?” He gestured behind him, eyebrows raised. She nodded. “Ah…” Steven seemed to light up as he turned to the exhibit. He lowered his voice slightly, as if confiding. “Would you like to know a little more?”
“If you’re offering, of course.”
A completely giddy grin traced his face, and instantly the words began to flow out of him like a river. “The Rosetta Stone was what actually allowed the Egyptian hieroglyphs to be deciphered, you see, because it has a version of the hieroglyphic script in Greek…”
He rambled on, and Zara couldn’t help but find herself a little entranced. Marc Spector, she had been told, was a mercenary – ruthless, cut-throat, calculating – nothing she hadn’t worked with before. But the man before her betrayed none of that, engrossed as he was in Egyptology, grinning like a little kid. His English accent was flawless, and would’ve been enough to throw her off balance if she hadn’t already known his history and nationality. It was also a little disarming, which in and of itself was a danger – his current demeanour was so non-threatening, so warm, that she felt he was a completely different person to the man whom she’d expected to meet. She’d been at this long enough to know that if this man was this convincing, he was going to be more dangerous than an average mercenary. But she needed to get closer to him. He had what she wanted.
“Stevie! What are you doing over there?” The voice made them both jump, the short blonde woman seeming to materialise out of nowhere. “How many times do I have to tell you, Stevie, you are not a tour guide?”
Steven ducked his head in embarrassment, his words suddenly fading to a mutter. “It’s Steven. Not Stevie.”
The blonde woman – Donna – stared daggers at him for a moment, before turning to Zara with an award-winning, please-don’t-rate-the-museum-badly-for-this smile. “So sorry, love. I would be happy to organise a tour guide for you, to take you through our exhibits today. Free of charge, of course.”
Zara glanced at Steven, who looked like he wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole. Well, she thought. Might as well use my customer-powers for a good cause. “Steven isn’t a tour guide?” she asked, feigning shock.
“No,” Donna spoke through gritted teeth, as though forcing words down. “No, he isn’t. But I’d be more than happy to arrange someone for you who is more…qualified.” Her glance flicked to Steven, causing him to flinch.
“Actually, if it’s alright, do you mind if I keep him?” Zara queried. “I was learning quite a lot.”
Steven looked up at her suddenly, hope illuminating his features. Donna shook her head slightly. “Oh, no, we actually – ”
“Steven made everything so interesting,” Zara gushed. “I really must insist you let me keep him for a bit. I’ll be sure to leave a cracking review.”
“Oh, um,” Donna stammered, before re-plastering that winning smile across her face. “Of course. Keep him for as long as you like!” She cast a glance toward Steven, taut with warning. “Make sure our guest is well-looked after, Steven.”
He nodded, avoiding her icy gaze. “Will do, Donna.”
Donna turned suddenly and sauntered off, leaving the two of them in awkward silence. Zara let out a giggle, turning back to him. “She’s a lot of fun, isn’t she?”
Steven seemed to relax slightly, chuckling a little. “You have no idea.”
He held her gaze for a moment, before shaking his head, as if shaking off his thoughts like cobwebs. “So, shall we continue your tour?”
Zara grinned, gesturing down the corridor. “Lead the way, tour guide.”
* * *
“I cannot believe you’re not a tour guide,” Zara exclaimed, causing Steven to blush. “I mean, you know so much. That’s practically a criminal offense.”
Steven laughed, walking in-step with her as they reached the end of the Egyptian section of the museum. “You’re too kind.”
“No, really – I think you should be.” Zara insisted, and he met her eyes. “You’re clearly so passionate about Egypt. And the way you talk about it – anyone would think you know the gods personally.”
His face lit up again, but not with the recognition she’d been hoping for. No indication that she’d hit a nerve. Just pure, golden retriever-like bashfulness. “I do hope I didn’t bore you to death with all my rambling.”
“Not at all.”
Steven nodded, seemingly unable to stop the smile pulling at his lips. “Well, I’m glad you enjoyed your tour. Though to be honest, I’m sorry to see it come to an end.”
He was watching her with a kind of uncertainty, like there were words on his tongue he couldn’t quite make himself say. An idea sprang into her mind. Why not? I need to keep tabs on him anyway. At least until I find what I need.
Zara rocked forward on her feet, surprised to find the slight pang of nerves at what she was about to do, like a butterfly taking off in her chest. Come on, then, the voice in her head, the one that wasn’t hers, asserted. We need to find that scarab. And we know who has it.
“Look,” Zara took a step forward. “I don’t usually do this, but you’ve been so lovely and interesting to talk to, and…I’d like to see you again.”
Steven flushed, looking suddenly as if someone had slapped him. “Wait – really?” She smiled. “Could I give you my number?”
“Oh my days, of course – yes,” Steven stammered, fumbling around in his pocket for his phone. “Sorry, that was the absolute last thing I thought you were going to say. Here, put it in.”
She laughed as she typed, handing him back his phone. “I guess I’ll see you around, then?”
“Yes, indeed – definitely,” he blurted, then seemed to right himself. “It was lovely meeting you – ”
“Zara,” she said, and his smile only seemed to get warmer.
“Lovely name, Zara,” he murmured. She wasn’t sure if he was saying it to her, or himself. Either way, it was disarmingly sweet. Too sweet, she reminded herself. Too sweet.
She smiled, and his blush ran deeper. “Bye, Steven.”
He gave a little wave as she made for the exit, calling after her. “Laters, gators.”
* * *
That went surprisingly well.
The voice of her patron had filled her head as she’d walked back to her flat, thus Zara was not at all surprised to find the deity waiting for her when she opened the door. She nodded as she came in. “I’ll be able to get close to him. I’ll find the scarab.”
Well, you were chosen for your skill set, Zara Fathi. I would hope you would know how to use it.
“I know what I’m doing,” she snapped, then corrected her tone. This was no deity to snap at, even if her role as avatar was essential to the goddess’ cause. “He’s convincing under that alias, but he’s still a mercenary. They tend to be cut from the same cloth.”
Don’t underestimate Marc Spector. Khonshu may not show god-like judgement at all times, but he still would’ve been chosen as his avatar for a reason. The unsaid words simmered in the air – just as I chose you.
Still, something wasn’t quite right. She could feel it in her bones. Zara trusted her intuition like nothing else, and it was screaming at her that there was something different about this situation. Steven – Marc, she reminded herself, had been convincing…a little too convincing. But it didn’t matter, not really – so long as she could get the scarab, so long as she could stop the rise of Ammit before it began. So long as she could protect the world she’d once helped pull apart at the seams.
The memories flooded up and she forced them back, the mental wall she’d spent so many years building holding the images back like a dam. The lioness-headed goddess towered before her, her golden eyes boring into Zara, reading her every thought.
I know what you are, Zara Fathi. It is why I chose you. It is why I know you will not fail me. The goddess stepped forward, and Zara fought the urge to step back. She gazed up, straight into the lioness’s eyes. But the other gods cannot know of my involvement. Not until it can be proven beyond any doubt that there is a conspiracy to raise Ammit from her imprisonment.
“I know.” Zara replied, finally averting her eyes. She could never look at the goddess for too long. It was like trying to stare at the sun. “I will not fail.”
Of course you will not. The goddess stated. For you are the avatar of the Lioness, the Protector of Ma’at.
The sun seemed to shine brighter through the window, the goddess’ form shimmering in front of her, almost blinding.
For you are the avatar of Sekhmet, the Eye of Ra.