“This happens often?” I tilt my head, holding back a smile.
Crazy Guy rolls his eyes. “No, but that sphinx was…” He pauses, as if thinking about how to say what he’s about to say. “… found among the ruins of the Temple of Amun in San El-Hagar, Egypt. So that’s where it will probably return.”
My eyes go wide, and I hold up a hand. “Wait. San El-Hagar?”
Crazy Guy goes still. “You know it?”
“Ancient Egyptians called it Djanet, the Bible refers to the city as Zoan, but it originally went by Tanis.” My voice rises, and I rub my ring.
Crazy Guy stares back with a blank expression.
“1866.” I laugh as lightness fills my chest.
“Excuse me?”
“In 1866, Karl Richard Lepsius discovered the Decree of Canopus at Tanis.” I beam.
Crazy Guy furrows his brow, brings a hand up and begins tapping his lips with a finger.
He’s not getting it, doesn’t matter.
“The Decree of Canopus is similar to the Rosetta Stone. Its text was written in both Egyptian hieroglyphs and demotic as well as Greek and contributed significantly to figuring out how to decipher hieroglyphics.”
Crazy Guy’s expression remains slack.
“See this ring?” I hold it so he can see it. “I taught myself hieroglyphics so I could read the inscription.”
His silver and gold eyes go wide. “You taught yourself? I’m impressed.”
I dip my head and smile. “Thank you.”
Helene interrupts as she sets two foamy beers down.
“Thank you,” I tell her, reverting briefly to Greek again.
“My pleasure, dear, enjoy.” She winks again as she turns, and I cough, then grab the ice-cold stein and take a quick sip.
Crazy Guy chuckles and takes a drink of his own. “Mmm, not bad.” He’s back to English.
“It’s a local favorite.” I set my mug on the table.
“Um, you…” Crazy Guy stares at my lips, then waves a finger.
I’m the one with a blank expression, now.
My heart accelerates as he reaches over and runs a finger across the corner of my mouth. “You had foam…” He smiles as wipes it on his napkin.
“Th… Thank you.” I look down before he can see my warming cheeks.
“So, Tanis,” he says, sitting back.
“Yes, Tanis.” I rub a thigh beneath the table.
“You’d enjoy seeing it?”
I’ve never visited most of the places I study… only the Louvre, but that hardly matters at the moment.
He’s dangerous, wild, and untamed, I remind myself.
But what if he is telling the truth? I shift my feet.
Crazy Guy watches me as he takes another swallow.
“People will die.” His words run through my head, and I start jiggling a knee as a lump forms in my throat.
The notion is still crazy… reanimated, granite statues? But Crazy Guy’s definitely real… different, but very real. Which means the scrolls are, too. It’s why he’s here, or so he says.
I rub my arm.
Can I live with myself if I really did what he says? No, I’d never intentionally hurt anyone.
Crazy Guy looks out the window as I sort out my thoughts. His Adam’s apple bobs as he takes another swallow.
Adam’s apple, I chuckle to myself. I still don’t know him from Adam, not even his name. And he’s got some really weird abilities. The clean carpet and my de-souped desk; like-new boots; my cleaned and warmed jacket; that door locking trick; and his anti-ugly-weather bubble, all cases in point. He’s right, he’s unlike anyone I’ve ever met.
Dinner arrives and I force back my melancholy.
Crazy Guy grins as I turn perky, moving things around to make all three dishes plus our plates fit the small table.
“I hope you’re hungry,” I say, setting more than half the moussaka on his plate, then adding spanakopita and finally divvying up the dolmades.
He raises his stein.
“What are we toasting?” I ask, raising mine.
“You, of course.”
My insides tense.
“Why me?” I smile uncomfortably.
“Aside from your beauty, you have a sharp mind and a good heart.” His voice is even.
My face, neck, and ears turn impossibly hot, yet I sense he’s speaking sincerely; it makes me blush all the harder.
“You don’t even know me,” I protest, shifting in my seat, then jiggling my legs.
“I’ve a good sense of character.” He holds my gaze, making my pulse race.
I’m hard on myself and have never been good at accepting compliments so this…
Pell, you’re losing it.
You’re telling me?
He clinks my glass, and I take a gulp of beer, making myself cough.
A corner of his mouth hitches up, but he doesn’t comment.
I hope he doesn’t notice my hand trembling when I pick up my fork and quickly shove a bite of moussaka in my mouth.
“Mmm. This is good, very good,” he says, chewing as if nothing has happened.
For him nothing has, clearly. But he’s just rocked my world… again, this time with a compliment. Who is this man? I hate feeling out of control, but it seems it’s natural for him to upend my reality.
I still haven’t said anything several bites later as my heart slows to its normal rhythm and, thank god, my face cools.
We eat in silence and my mind starts mulling more over what he warns.
“These flavors are amazing, Pell,” he says.
I look up. He’s practically licked his plate clean while I wool gather, staring at my plate. “What? Oh, sorry. Good, I’m glad you like it. I told you it was good.” My tone’s flat.
“A woman of your word.” He gives me an easy nod.
I bob my head.
“So, about that baklava.” He grins.
“Did that sphinx statue really come to life?”
He doesn’t take offense at my question this time, his earnest expression tells me as much, he just pulls the paper napkin from his lap and places
