“Touch it.”
The words were so faint, Hattie wasn’t sureshe’d actually heard them.
“Who’s there?” she asked, though she didn’texpect to get a response. The room was too small to hideanyone.
“Touch the necklace.”
Hattie spun around, searching for the sourceof the barely audible words. “Tom, is that you? If it’s you, Idon’t think this is funny! Open the door right now.” She thumped itwith her fist for emphasis.
There was no response.
Hattie turned back to the exquisitelyfashioned falcon. Maybe it was her overworked imagination playing atrick on her, but the advice seemed sound. Perhaps if she touchedthe necklace, she could make a connection—psychic, empathic?—withthe long-dead monarch. The necklace was strangely compelling, likea long forgotten yet treasured memory.
She reached out slowly, cautiously. As herfingertips gently grazed the golden bird, an electric shock pulsedthrough her and a sudden wave of dizziness sapped her strength.
“Come to me,” the ghostly voice whispered,stronger now. “Come to me. I have need of you.”
The sweet, cloying scent of incense filledHattie’s nostrils, and flashes of light exploded behind her eyes.Her vision blurred; she felt as if she were reeling, falling down along, dark tunnel. Gasping, she reached out blindly for something,anything, to steady herself. Her fingers skimmed across the surfaceof the table and fastened around the necklace. Clutching it, shefell heavily to the floor as everything went black.
* * *
Hattie opened her eyes, but she saw nothing.Everything was still as black as midnight. Her heart leapt to herthroat. Was she blind? Had someone overpowered her and locked herin a dark, eerie cell?
Suddenly, a cooling breath of comfortfiltered through her and she relaxed, sighing. She felt the ghostlypresence again, but she was no longer afraid. She turned and saw,glowing like a lamp in the darkness, a lovely, slender womanwearing a diaphanous white gown and an array of glittering jewels.Her reddish-gold hair was braided intricately, and her slim feetwere encased in delicate sandals. She looked like Hattie, and yetshe didn’t. She exuded an aura of graciousness, elegance—andantiquity. It was as though Hattie stared at the portrait of along-dead ancestor.
“Who…who are you?” Hattie whispered. “Do Iknow you?”
“Yes—and no,” the woman responded.
It was the same voice she’d heard in thestorage room of the museum. Hattie was sure of it. She felt thewoman’s words in her head more than she heard them with her ears.“What do you mean, yes and no?” she asked.
“I am your past, and your future.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”Hattie shook her head. “Where am I? Why am I here? Did you bring mehere?”
“I have searched for you for millennia,” themysterious woman responded. “I have waited many ages for the onewho could fulfill my destiny and my life, which was unjustly cutshort so long ago.”
Hattie shuddered. This woman was definitelyout to lunch. “Listen, I don’t know who you are or what you want,but I suggest you let me go at once. Tom will be looking for me,you know.”
The woman shrugged slightly as the glowaround her diminished and brightened, like a star twinkling in thedark night sky. “I am sorry, but I have need of you. The thread ofmy life was severed before its time, and you must finish what Istarted.”
Hattie tried to edge away. Hadn’t she readsomewhere it was important not to challenge the delusions of acrazy person? “Why me? I have a life of my own. I don’t want tofulfill your destiny.” As an afterthought, she added, “I’msorry.”
“Ah…but my destiny is your destiny. You arefated to perform the task stolen from me. Only then can you resumeyour own life.”
“And what is that task?” Hattie askedsuspiciously. “Do you want me to bring you the broomstick of theWicked Witch of the West?”
The woman laughed, a sparkling sound likewater splashing in a fountain. “Some have called me witch, but nonecould truthfully claim I was wicked. Nay, the task you must fulfillis to protect the heir to the throne, my stepson, Prince Tuthmosis.You must determine the identity of the betrayer who cut short mylife and who also threatens the young prince. I was close todiscovering the name of the traitor, but he learned I was a dangerto him and had me killed.” She smiled grimly. “I knew the necklacewould bring you to me. Now, you must find him. Only then can Iresume the path of my life as the gods intended, and you can returnto yours.”
“Tuthmosis? Traitors?” Hattie backed upanother step, giving up all hope of going along with the crazywoman. The conversation was so ridiculous, it was difficult toparticipate in. “Even if what you say is true, why me? Why am I theone who has to go back and solve your problems?”
“Because you are of my blood. You sprang frommy stock. Though the link is distant, my blood runs truer in yourveins than in any who came before you.” The woman stepped closer.“Only you can right this grave injustice. You must protectTuthmosis. He is but a boy, and without me to protect him, he ishelpless.”
“Now you’re saying I’m Egyptian? You must becrazy! I’m as American as they come. Just who are you anyway?”
“I am King’s Great Wife, God’s Wife of Amun,Lady of the Two Lands—Hatshepsut.” Hatshepsut reached out andtouched Hattie’s cheek with a feather-light touch, but Hattie feltit in every fiber of her being, like an electric shock.
A gasp died in Hattie’s throat. Her headswam, her heart pounded; blackness rushed up to engulf her, and shesurrendered to a force she didn’t understand and couldn’tovercome.
CHAPTER 2
Hattie awoke with regret. Her head poundedfiercely, the potent scent of incense still lingering in hernostrils. She groaned, but hesitated to open her eyes. She didn’tknow if the crazy woman was still there—and if she were, what shemight do to Hattie next.
“Amun be praised! She lives!” A heartfelt,deep male voice broke the stillness of the room. “Are you allright, Majesty? Do you know your name?”
“H…Hattie,” she croaked, her eyes stillsqueezed tightly shut. The deep voice sounded nothing like theghostly woman who’d claimed to be Hatshepsut.
“Open your
