Queen Aset

Instead of driving through the front gates, he cut around the side and was promptly let in because of the disguise of her car. He pulled into the garage, parking next to the Maserati, and quickly ducked out of the car to drag Danielle from the back seat.

He carried her over his shoulder into the house, walking up to the master suite that was previously only occupied by dust.

The moon poured into the room through a window, illuminating brushed gold accents as though they were on display at a museum. The room was stale and possessed a harshness unlike the remainder of the house. It was fitting, the man thought as he dropped Danielle onto the bed, securing her wrists and ankles to the bedposts before pulling up a chair to wait for the woman to wake.

Exactly seventy-two minutes later, Danielle’s eyes opened – her eyelids peeling apart groggily. It felt as though she was submerged in a tank of water waiting for her lungs to fail. The only sensations to which she was privy were dull vibrations near her ears.

The woman’s head fell to the side, her cheek meeting a frigid pillow. Cerulean irises adjusted to the darkness, attempting to discern the figure sitting mere feet from her. When she did not recognize the face, Danielle moved to sit, but was promptly cut off by the restraints. Her breath quickened.

“Ah, ah, ah. Don’t try it.” The man’s voice pierced through the heavy, black air. “You’ll never get out of there.” Danielle suppressed a terrified cry as she continued twisting her wrists in an attempt to escape.

“And even if you did,” he continued, “you wouldn’t make it off the bed.”

Danielle focused her energy on the restraints, slowly turning them to ice.

“You know me.” The man replied with a grin, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

Danielle’s brow furrowed at his response, but she had finally garnered enough strength to break the restraints. Ice splintered into her wrists and ankles, drawing blood as the ties shattered. She immediately pushed herself up, the drugs still weighing on her, but she couldn’t move fast enough. The man appeared at once behind her as she stepped off of the bed, grabbing her wrists and pulling her arms out of their sockets as he swung her around and pressed her face into the mattress, twisting her arms behind her back. Danielle screamed in agony, but layers of blankets muffled her pain.

“I told you,” he said angrily, shoving her dress up onto her back unforgivingly. “I warned you.” His tone was has as his grip. His hand cracked the bones in her wrist as he removed the last bit of fabric from her flesh.

Aset struggled to aid Danielle with magic, but the man knew how to keep the goddess restrained. She could not breathe out any assistance as her lungs continued to collapse from lack of oxygen and her wrists were nearly shattered, halting any flow of magic therein. But how?

Tearing at his own pants, the man leaned over Danielle’s back and growled against her neck. He twisted her wrists more, coaxing another cry and a flood of tears. The sound pulled an insidious grin from his lips and pressed it against her neck as she attempted to crawl into herself to get away.

She could feel every inch of him against her and the sensation filled her eyes with tears as he rested his cheek against the base of her neck to speak.

“I’ll tell you my name if you tell me yours.” He growled into her hair. Aset knew at once he was not human and, more than likely, he was Egyptian. She shook her head and regretted it at once. The man thrust himself upon his victim, pressing her further into the mattress in anger. His nails dug harshly into the flesh of her thigh as he drove every inch of himself inside the goddess. His dark magic slid along the woman’s side and coiled around her throat paralyzing every limb, daring her to breathe refusal again. His grunts became fervent with every sick thrust of his hips.

“Tell me,” he commanded, digging his hand into her hair and snatching her neck back with more force than any mortal could withstand. Aset begged Danielle to remain silent – to refuse – but the woman was shaking now, unable to endure much more.

“Ἶσις” Danielle finally choked.

The man groaned satisfaction into the base of her neck while sliding a drop-point into her ribs and tossing the petite frame of a once great woman away from him and into the middle of the bed. He felt the magic resonate deep within his bones with each step he took from the bed. His broad shoulders narrowed, his waist slimmed, and his hair began cascading in waterfalls of sunlight over his back. In moments the behemoth of a man became a tall, regal, golden-haired woman.

She took tentative steps toward Danielle’s closet to find clothing that suited her frame. Minutes later, Kara emerged from the closet, a black gown painted to her slim frame – dark eyes gazing over the stilled body on bloodied sheets.

“Amun,” she said in a yawn, as she channeled the woman’s energy, turning into a mirror image of the Councilor. “Thanks for the boost, I needed it.” A shrug accompanied her words as Kara tossed the ring on the bed near Danielle. 

No moonlight was visible from where the exposed, porcelain skin lie upon tattered and bloodied sheets. It would take a few moments to determine if the moon was in the sky at all, but upon entry into the unnaturally humid bedroom, one might catch the glint of light on broken glass - as though Checkov, himself, directed the scene. Faint moonlight reflected up onto a lifeless arm draped over the edge of a crimson-stained mattress. Her body lie still on the bed - defiled and drained. Danielle Alford was only a memory.