Shadows on the Aegean Read Online Free PDF Page B

feeling its sting burn in her breast. Above, stars hung like
     grapes from the arbor of the sky, and Sibylla felt tears in her eyes.
    Why in the name of Kela would she be weeping? Her sense of loneliness and despair was so great, so engulfing, that she could
     not keep the sobs from rising. Her crying was loud, harsh in the still night. Sibylla had no idea how long she wept, how many
     times she wiped her face and hugged herself, desperate to feel the concern of one other person. An unknown, unnamed person.
    Finally exhausted, she stumbled back to the cave’s entrance. Malevolence hit her in the face like a stench. Recoiling, Sibylla
     looked into the shadows.
Skia
awaited her. Breathing deeply, she forced herself deeper into the cave. The
skia
surrounded her, pummeling her mind with anger, betrayal, pain, fury, whipping her into a pulpy emotional mass.
    Sibylla ran the last steps to her shelf bed and huddled beneath her cloak. The very night seemed to whisper to her: she had
     never desired to see the dawn more. The flickering lamp went out, and she screamed, quaking.
    Skeletal fingers poked her, prodded her, and Sibylla retreated in fear to a corner of her mind. Another part of her, a stronger,
     more adaptable
psyche
, stepped forward.
    Chloe pulled the cloak off her head and stared into the darkness.
    Holy shit!
Once again, she was sharing someone’s body. Was she sure of that? Who am I? she asked herself quickly. Chloe Bennett Kingsley,
     second lieutenant, serial number 044–65-2089. Born December 23, 1970. Middle child of an American diplomat and an English
     archaeologist. Older sister Camille, an Egyptologist. Younger brother Caius, a professional black sheep. Grandmother Mimi,
     deceased. Degree in communications art. She lived at 767 Amber Lane, Dallas, Texas 75007.
    Chloe swallowed. Those were the facts of her life. So far, so good.
    So where was she? She wasn’t in her own skin—she didn’t have black hair. So who was the host body? Her vision of this current
     world seemed to be viewed through rippling water. Nothing was clear. Nothing was recognizable. The other
psyche
in this body, Sibylla, treated her as if she weren’t here most of the time. Definitely not welcome, Chloe realized. It was
     one of the few clear thoughts she’d managed to have over the past—how long had it been?
How can I figure anything out when I can’t even see to “drive”! We need to negotiate a body lease agreement. Living in this
     body is like moving a puppet; I am a breathing Punch & Judy show. Oh God
.
    Where was Cheftu? The pain of his loss was so crippling that she whimpered in the darkness. They’d had such a short time.
     If she hadn’t returned to the modern world, and she was guessing that she hadn’t—caves were rather outmoded accommodations—then
     where was she? Where was he? Had he stayed in ancient Egypt? Had he moved forward in time? Did he truly understand she’d not
     wanted to leave? Had he, oh God, was he alive? Chloe shut her
eyes
tightly, holding back more tears. Did he know she was alive? Did he know where she was? Did
she
know where she was? Where was here?
    The vision, Sibylla’s vision of destruction, rose behind Chloe’s eyelids. Because it had not been “her” seeing it, the edges
     were torn and it was faded: a mental daguerreotype. Waves, fire, earthquakes … was she here because of her emergency management
     training? Not to mention her emergency management
experience
. When the going got tough, the tough ate locusts.
    Oh Cheftu, oh dear God I miss you…
.
    Chloe shook her head, the intention taking a few moments to result in action. She didn’t feel quite settled in this body.
I sound like the next guest on Jerry Springer, “Modern Women and the Ancient Bodies They Inhabit.”
    “I’m really losing it.” Even her voice was a little different—not to mention the language!
    If I am here, sharing Sibylla’s body, then where is the body of RaEm—my former hostess—where is my