Page 6 of Shai

I opened my eyes and turned my head to the side. In a chair next to the bed sat an old woman, the sound coming from a frantically moving pair of knitting needles, their ends almost a blur. She looked to be in her eighties, her hair white and her face so lined that there was little in the way of smooth skin between the pronounced wrinkles. She spoke without taking her eyes off her knitting. “You’re awake.”

There was a rasp in her voice equivalent to someone who’d smoked at least twenty cigarettes daily for the past fifty years. I tried to speak, the dryness of my throat meaning that it took several attempts before I was able to force words out.

“Where am I?”

“Where are you?” She paused from her knitting, brown eyes fastening on me for a few seconds before skittering away. “The best place in the world, that’s where.”

As her answer was no answer at all, I changed tack. “Could I possibly

have some water?”

She shook her head, tendrils of hair whipping her cheeks with the

movement. “No water. Only blood.”

What the fuck! I struggled to a seated position, casting an eye around the

room in the hope it would offer some sort of clue on how I’d gone from drowning in the river one moment to lying in a bed. Not just any bed either, but a sumptuous four-poster, the likes of which I’d never even seen before, never mind slept in. The rest of the room was decorated to an equally high standard, velvet curtains hanging at the window, and intricately carved wooden furniture dotted around the room. It reeked of opulence.

Wherever I was, I’d apparently landed on my feet. I had an urge to

laugh. That fucker, McIntyre, had tried to drown me, and I’d not only survived, I was lounging around on silken sheets with my own nursemaid.

She might not be all there given her response, but she was obviously

watching over me. I just needed to convince her to give me some water without the doom-laden mutterings about blood. Plans for the future raced through my head. I’d stay for a few days until I felt better and then I’d get the fuck out of the city. McIntyre would assume I was dead, so I didn’t have to worry about him coming after me. Within a few weeks, I’d be able to consign my time in Deadwood to nothing more than a bad dream.

“Shai will look after you now.”

The feeling of elation withered in my chest, my head turning so sharply

toward her that I had to fight a wave of dizziness. She carried on knitting, seemingly oblivious to the turmoil she’d created with a few chosen words. “What did you say?”

She didn’t lift her head. “Shai. He’s my special boy. Did you know he

was a miracle baby? I was fifty-five when I gave birth to him. Didn’t go through menopause until four years later. God needed me to fulfil a special task first. He nearly pulled my insides out, but it would have been worth it even if I’d died. Do you know why I called him Shai?”

I shook my head, not trusting myself to be able to speak. She smiled, dropping the knitting needles to her lap and staring down at

them. “Because as soon as I looked into his face, I could see it, could see him in his eyes.”

“Him?” The word slipped out, even though I was beginning to think I

didn’t want to know the answer.

She lifted her head, something manic shining in her eyes. “The first Shai. The Egyptian God. I was chosen to be the vessel for his reincarnation. And just like the original, he controls everyone’s fate. Mine, all the men that live under this roof. And now yours too.”

She picked her knitting back up, returning to it as if she hadn’t just spouted some of the craziest shit I’d ever heard. “You think your son is the reincarnation of an Egyptian God?”

Her eyes narrowed, something malicious glinting in their depths that made me think I’d insulted her. “I don’t think, I know. He has waited a long time to return, but now that he’s back, he’s ready to fulfil his destiny.”

I knew I shouldn’t ask, but it was like I couldn’t stop my lips from forming the words anyway, like someone unable to tear their eyes away from a horrific car crash. “What’s his destiny?”

She dropped her knitting needles and clapped her hands together as if she was delighted with my question. Her moods seemed to change in the blink of an eye. “To have everything he wants, to own this city, to own the entire world if he wants it.”

Ask a madwoman a question, and I guessed I should expect a mad answer. What were the chances of escaping from McIntyre, only to fall into the clutches of the only man who might be worse? The décor made sense now. McIntyre and Shai were the two richest men in the city. McIntyre hadn’t seemed inclined to spend his ill-gotten gains on home comforts, but apparently Shai had no such qualms. No expense spared, apparently, for the reincarnated Egyptian God.

A bubble of hysteria rose up in my throat and I was forced to push it down. I needed to think. I needed to stay calm and rational. Time was of the essence if I was going to get out of here.