I stood in my walk-in closet, surveying my meager clothing choices. My "date" with James was in a few hours, and I couldn't decide between my two best dresses. The first one I pulled out was red, tight-fitting, and stopped at the knee. It was short-sleeved and the neckline hit my collarbone. Dress number two was purple, strapless, and the hem hit my mid-thigh. The multiple shades of purple in it mixed in a subtle way, and the gathering ran side to side down the entire length of the dress. It was also tight, but tended to fall down a little, so I planned to wear it if I ever wanted to be super-sexy.

                I figured that since I was meeting James' sister, I wouldn't want to appear as anything weird, so I went with the red one. I stripped, picking out a push-up bra and pantyhose to wear underneath. Once I was dressed, I stood in front of the mirror, scrutinizing my appearance.

                "Firea, you look hot. You should be doing this for Ahk, you know," I scolded myself, turning this way and that to see myself from all angles. Should I have to storm off for any reason, at least my ass would look fantastic. Then I sighed. Of course I should be doing this for Ahkmenrah...or I should have at least told him. Guilt hit me in the chest, knocking the wind out of me and leaving me heaving for air. I glanced at the clock: still two hours until I met James.

                I took a while to pick out shoes; my vintage 1940's heels won over, matching the dress just enough to make it classy. Then I did my make-up: the step I dreaded. I made it simple, doing the mascara thing and adding a little eyeliner. When I finished I stepped back to look again, feeling that I had yet again failed but felt too frustrated to redo it.

                I went over to the mirror again, putting on my shoes and looking at my entire image. The last time I had put on this dress, these shoes – my life had fallen apart. Leaving Canada had done wonders for me, helping me get away from him. I wouldn't mention his name, or even think about it. He was abusive; not physically, but verbally. He hated everything I did, but assured me that he loved my body. Eventually, I couldn't take it. I knew that if I left him and stayed around the same town, he would track me down and possibly become physically violent. So I left everything, moving from British Columbia, Canada, to New York; as far as I possibly could from my entire life. Yes, I felt alone, but more than that...I felt free. But my heart was afraid it would happen again.

                The walk to the restaurant was short, and I could see James standing outside waiting for me. He was stunning. Dressed in ironed slacks and a crisp white shirt, he was quite the image to behold. Sleeves rolled up, he had opened the top couple of buttons on his shirt to the warm night air. I tried not to notice, but it was very...apparent.

                "Firea," James walked towards me, his smile warming. "I'm glad you could make it. My sister is quite the questioner, if you catch my meaning." Leading me inside, we joined a young beauty at a quiet table in the back.

                "James, who ­is this friend of yours?" The women stood, reaching out to shake my hand.

                "Firea," I said, smiling and taking my seat.

                "I am Catriona. Please, feel free to call me Cat." Cat smiled, sipping her wine. She was quite metropolitan, and stunningly beautiful. Sitting across from her, I felt mediocre – average, even.

                "Alright, Cat it is." I gave a small smile. I had already put on a mask, and had begun retreating into myself. The atmosphere shifted, making it impossible for me not to feel awkward. My shoulders dropped ever so slightly as I drew back into myself.

                "So," she began, glancing at James before turning her full attention to me. "James tells me that you're in his Ancient Civilizations class. Does it have anything to do with your major, or is it just an extra course?"

                "I think just an extra, or a minor. My major is English Literature."

                "That'll be interesting. What do you plan on doing with such a degree?"

                "Teaching, maybe? Or journalism? I really want to travel, so I may focus my next step around that plan," I fidgeted nervously, reciting what I knew all too well.

                "Sounds like you have it all figured out. James here doesn't even know what he wants to do," Cat laughed, light and gorgeous. I smiled. Cat glanced around for a waiter – they hadn't ordered either, it would seem.

                My gaze swept the room before landing on a familiar trio of girls, one of which was glaring straight back – the girls from the museum. The ones that had beat me.

                Heart racing, I looked back down at my plate. Please, I thought, let her look away. Don't let her see me with James.

                "Are you alright?" James laid a hand on my arm, concern in his eyes. "You didn't have to come, Firea, you could have said no."

                "No, I'll be alright. It's just..." I glanced over at them again, but James followed my gaze.

                "Those girls are in our class, yes? Did something happen to you?"

                Cat leaned in, unsure of how to gauge to situation.

                "When we went to the Museum of Natural History...they cornered me after you left. I woke up there after closing, and the Night guard let me out. I still have bruises..." I whispered, not wanting James' eyes to flash as dangerously as they did.

                "Did they say why?" He said through tight lips.

                "Because of you," I choked out, fear constricting my words.

                "Then we need to leave," Cat said, standing gracefully. James nodded to her, silently telling Cat to go ahead. She took my hand, dragging me suddenly away from him. We stopped at the door.

                "How could you, you mean son-of-a-bitch? She never even loved you!" Cat screamed, pulling me out the door and around the block. Breathing hard, James appeared a few moments later.

                "How was that, lass? Think they'll threaten you again?" James smiled tightly.

                "Probably not...thank you so much. Both of you," I turned and gave Cat a hug, before James wrapped his arms around me. It felt good, to have his body against mine, but I couldn't stop thinking of a certain young Pharaoh.

                "James," I pulled away. "I ruined your dinner. I am so sorry," my head drooped.

                "Don't be. We'll walk you home, and then James and I will have a dinner I can actually question him at." Cat smiled evilly, wrapping an arm around my waist. "I would invite you, but I know why James invited you in the first place. Now I can ask him all about America without offering him an out – if that's alright, of course."

                "It sure is. I'm okay with going home now," I answered, smiling at the pale colour James had turned. "Actually, you guys only need to walk me to the Museum. I live right across the road," I explained.

                "Of course: and lo! We are here," James took my hand, leading me to the steps. Cat looked on, seriously scrutinizing me. Weird.

                "Thanks for getting me out of my house, at least. And for helping me with those girls," I smiled, sitting down to watch them walk away.

                The second they rounded the corner, I sprinted up the stairs and banged on the doors. Larry answered immediately.

                "I saw you guys arrive. Does Ahkmenrah know where you were?" Larry asked, handing me a bag full of clothes.

                "No. Thanks for holding on to this for me, though. Where is he?" I walked fast to the washroom, eager to change my clothes.

                "Hall of Miniatures: we'll head there when you're done."

                Changing my clothes in record time, I stuffed my dress and heels into the bag and hid it under the counter in the washroom. Before I left on my date, I had dropped off the bag at the loading dock, knowing Larry would eventually find it for me. Finding him outside, we walked casually to where the Egyptian Pharaoh was waiting for me.

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                "Firea."

                The young Pharaoh's face lit up when he saw me, and he strode over to me...and pulled me with him around the corner and towards his tomb.

                "Your work didn't take you very long, did it? Doesn't matter," Ahk smiled at me widely. "I want to show you the Tablet."

                "Great, Ahk. Is there a story behind it?"

                "Yes, but Father never told it to me. You'll have to settle with that for now."

                It was colder in the exhibit, but Ahkmenrah's excitement kept me warm. He brought me over to the Tablet, the one I had seen hanging on this wall a dozen or more times. Taking it down from the wall, he held it out to me.

                "This is my Tablet; and with it, I rule as Fourth King of the Fourth King over the land of my Fathers. Also, it glows when it uses its magic. You can take it, you know," he smiled sweeter, nodding to it.

                Its weight reminded me of a book, but the pieces looked to turn. Instead of being as cold as the air around it, heat seeped from it to my hands. My eyes looked over the inscriptions, the hieroglyphics seeming to glow. And then it did glow – a lot.

                Searing pain ripped up my arms, my head screaming and my body shaking. Ahkmenrah looked at me with fear disbelief. I glanced down at the Tablet – but my arms were more interesting. The same hieroglyphics from the Tablet were appearing on my arms like ghost tattoos – except that they burned me. The pain grew to astonishing heights before I fell, my head not quite missing a collision with the sarcophagus.