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His lips quirked. “That, too. But it helped to have some other basis as well, or else the next person with an army could come in and have just as much legitimacy as you. In Europe, that basis was normally a particular bloodline: the British royal house still claims the throne by right of descent from William the Conqueror, for instance. In China, it was the Mandate of Heaven, the idea that the ruler was divinely appointed and, as long as he ruled well, the people were required to obey. Whereas in Egypt . . .”
Hassani, usually so loquacious, suddenly trailed off.
“In Egypt?” I prompted.
He had been staring up at the huge statue of Ra, which did tend to draw the eye. But now he shook himself slightly, and glanced at me. And his gaze was strange, almost . . . searching.
“They combined the two ideas,” he said, after a moment. “In pharaonic Egypt, it was said that the queen was visited by the god Ra, who impersonated her husband. And that her child was therefore a demigod, divinely appointed to rule over the population.”
“Divine right of kings taken to the next level,” I said dryly. “Not just appointed by a god, but sired by one.”
“Exactly so. Although in Egypt’s case, it wasn’t mere propaganda. The creature who ruled these lands before me was such a man.”
I blinked a little at that, wondering if I was being had. But it had been said so matter-of-factly that I doubted it. “You mean, a demigod?”
“You sound skeptical.”
“A little.” I knew a supposed demigod—although I had my misgivings. Poo emoji earrings do not inspire a lot of confidence. But even assuming that she was the real deal, the bastard kids of ancient gods were not exactly thick on the ground these days.
But Hassani was nodding. “Understandable, but true, I assure you. An Egyptian of the lower classes, he was cast out of his family and would almost certainly have died had he not been taken by the god Ra to be experimented upon. He was infused with some godly DNA in a process that he once described to me as a rebirth, and in a way, he was right.”
“In what way?”
“Why, the same way that our Children are reborn, after the Change. He became the world’s first vampire.”
I went another yard before what he’d said sunk in. I turned around to see Hassani standing there, in the middle of the puddle of lantern light, waiting for me to catch up. He was gonna need to wait a little longer.
“I—what?”
He smiled at me, and this time, there was a glint in those too-innocent eyes. “Oh. Would you like to see him?”
Chapter Ten
Dory, Cairo
The entrance to the tomb was on the dais, through a small door situated directly behind the throne. The reception chamber was even more impressive from this angle, with the procession of glittering gods flickering in the firelight, giving them the illusion of movement. All those jeweled eyes gleamed knowingly at me, as if to say: “We were here before you, and we will be here when you are dust.”
Yeah, but I can leave, I thought back, and damned if that didn’t sound like a good idea right about now.
> And, for a moment, I thought we’d have to. Despite vampire strength, it took Hassani putting a shoulder to the wooden door to move it, which was painted to blend in with the stone and seemed almost as heavy. And when it did finally burst inward, it let out a breath of stale air like, well, like a tomb.
After a brief hesitation, caused by what was left of my good sense, I followed the consul inside. And immediately regretted it. I stopped abruptly, staring around at a cave full of bodies, all of which seemed to be staring back.
Okay . . . not expecting that.
There were dozens of them, maybe more because I couldn’t see well in here. The torchlight from outside was little more than a thin veneer on the darkness, and Lantern Boy wasn’t helping. I glanced over my shoulder and saw him hanging back, just outside the door, looking unhappy.
Vamps used glamouries so much that I’d almost stopped paying attention to their appearance whenever I met a new one. It was easier—and safer—to go by feel: how much power were they putting out? How much of an atmospheric disturbance did they cause? If it felt like a gravity well had opened up beneath my feet when I approached them, or like a couple extra atmospheres had suddenly descended onto my shoulders, then yeah. They were old.
But this kid didn’t have a presence at all. He wouldn’t even have registered as a vamp except for the fangs he kept forgetting to hide. And, yes, there were vamps so good at concealing their power signature that they could fool anyone, including me. But I didn’t think he was one of them.
He kept cutting his own lip on the aforementioned fangs, which were growing because he was nervous and sensed danger, and then being retracted because he was with his master and was supposed to show some decorum. Out in; out in. The result was a polka dotted lip that didn’t scream “ancient vamp” to me.
Hassani shot him a longsuffering glance, but didn’t comment. Except to me. “Prisoners,” he said, before I could ask.
“Prisoners?” I glanced at the bodies again. I thought that was a strange word to use for dead men.
“At one time. In our court, as in most, serious offenders are left out for the sun or staked, at the consul’s pleasure. But my predecessor . . . preferred a different solution.”
