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Harley flipped open the book, tracing a passage. “Okay, here it is. Blah, blah, blah. ‘Antony is a glorious sight with soldiers at his back and his mighty sword of rubies arcing through the air, smiting his enemy.’” She glanced at Indigo. “Maybe Cleo entrusted the blade to her lover.”
Harley read silently for a while. “That’s it. He won, but more men deserted. Failing to get on a ship, he stabbed himself, believing Cleopatra had committed suicide.”
“With the ruby sword?” asked Roark.
“It doesn’t say. But the guy didn’t die right away. When he found out Cleo was still alive, his men carried him to her mausoleum where she was hiding. He died in her arms.” Harley brushed a tear off her cheek. “How romantic.”
One side of Roark’s mouth quirked. “Not very. He killed himself. The idiot.”
“The Egyptian queen begged Octavian for mercy. Not finding any, she killed herself for real in August.” Harley shoved the tome toward Indigo, who shrugged, unable to translate the text.
Indigo leaned into her chair, lacing her fingers behind her head. “So Alexander the Great had Blood’s Kiss. His friend Ptolemy Soter I, ruler of Egypt, took it off his body and passed it down the line to Cleopatra. She gave it to her lover Mark Antony. End of story. Where are they buried?”
“Dunno.” Harley returned to skimming the books and documents on the table, shoving them aside when they didn’t prove useful. After another few hours, she rose, stretching from side to side before she opened the door to call out, “Amani.”
The curator jumped from her desk chair, rushing into the room.
“I’m finished with this stuff. What do you have on Antony and Cleopatra’s burial site?”
When Amani hesitated, Indigo twisted toward her, wiggling fingers, sending a cool breeze across Harley’s skin, a sure sign the historian was on the receiving end of a spell to make her more amenable to a search through ancient files.
A silly smile curved Amani’s lips. “Lots. Many archaeologists and historians have had theories, though nobody has found the definitive site. Let me send someone in to return this material while I search for what you need.” She spun on her heel but glanced over her shoulder before racing out. “This is so exciting.”
Indigo shrugged when Harley arched a brow in her direction. “It’s a tiny spell. No harm. No foul.”
“We might as well take a break while they set up for this afternoon. I saw an outdoor cafe when we came in this morning. How about that?” asked Brak. “My witch needs to eat to keep up her strength. She has demands on her.”
Harley touched fingers to her cheek. Yep. Warm. She was blushing.
He cast her an unrepentant grin. “What makes you think of me? I meant your job here.”
She slugged his arm while he pretended she hurt him. “Ouch.”
Enjoying the fresh air of the cafe along with the strong aroma of spiced Egyptian coffee, Harley dug a fork into her falafel. “Hmm.” She shoved her glasses onto her nose. “This is wonderful.” She glanced at Brak’s plate of kushari, her fork hovering above it. “May I?”
“What’s mine is yours, Harley babe.” With his olive skin and black hair, curling slightly at his neck and slicked off his face, he could be one of the locals.
Her tongue swept over her lower lip when she set the fork back onto the table. “That’s good, too.”
The big carnal demon’s eyes glowed as they traced the path of her tongue.
Roark sipped on an Egyptian whiskey, an ankle crossed over his knee while he studied the lunchtime crowd. His gaze returned to linger on Indigo.
The quirky witch was about to dig into her sandwich, a shawarma, her open mouth hovering near it. “As soon as you ID possible burial sites, you and Brak can head out.”
Harley swiped her napkin. “I’m finished and ready to keep going all afternoon.”
Roark signaled for the bill, paid, and led the group back to the museum where Amani had set them up to search for info on the tomb of Antony and Cleopatra.
Harley scanned hundreds of scientific journals as well as less reputable magazines and books, both ancient and new. She also skimmed newspaper clippings before she checked her watch. It had been three hours since lunch. She closed the last document, stretched out in her chair, and removed her glasses to rub her eyes. Brak pulled up behind her, his rough hands massaging her shoulders. She angled her head to glance at him. “That feels so good.”
Roark joined the women at the table while Harley summarized. “Here’s what I’ve found. Best scholarly guess is they are near Alexandria. Octavian permitted them to be buried together. Suetonius and Plutarch both wrote the same thing about that. Cleo killed herself at her palace, but that part of the city is now under the sea. If her grave and Antony’s is on the property, your search is fruitless. But historians and archaeologists have speculated on other places.”
“Like?” Indigo shifted in her chair, her energy telling Harley she was ready to start the search.
“I’ll jot down the names of a few sites, but the most talked about is Taposiris Magna. The place has extensive catacombs, and artifacts point to it as a possibility. I’d start there.”
After Harley noted other possibilities, Indigo and Roark huddled in the corner, probably planning their next move.
