I blushed. I felt naked in the linen robe, even with my modern underthings still on beneath. My bare arms and feet were exposed in a shocking manner. Mala had not allowed me to replace my boots and stockings and had consented to my keeping the camisole and petticoats only after I begged her.

The afternoon had grown late, and the sun was beginning to set far to the west. I began to smell a heavy perfume in the air. Danilo had lit the frankincense at the altar.

Mala nodded. “It is time.”

Danilo had said this ritual would somehow aid us in finding the Morning Star and would ready him to face Papus. But I could not help thinking that any ritual requiring such elaborate preparations must be for something much darker than merely seeking a lost object. Or merely for seeking protection from a foe. Disturbing ancient gods was not something even a lich tsar would undertake lightly, I would hope.

The sanctuary holding the altar of Osiris was a small square chamber supported by four enormous columns. Each column had carvings of Osiris and Isis and hieroglyphics begging for the deities’ intercessions. The room was dark except for the two gas lanterns Danilo had lit. A tiny skylight high above us let in fresh air but little light, as the sun was sinking fast. I worried for our two young guides waiting by the animals outside.

Mala turned to leave the sacred chamber, but Danilo stopped her. “Your assistance is needed as well, my dear,” he told her. As his gaze flickered over me briefly, I caught disapproval or possibly even disappointment in his eyes. Now what have I done? I wondered.

Mala looked surprised but pleased. She took the place he indicated behind the altar, opposite him. He motioned for me to stand to the left of the altar. I saw a carved panel on the wall behind me that looked as if a doorway had been sealed. The paint on the figures could still be seen, the dark brown of the people’s skin and the blue and reds of their clothing. Two jackals stood guard patiently behind them. The guides had said that Seti’s successor, Ramses the Second, had blocked off several doorways in the temple following Seti’s death. I wondered what had been behind the panel.

The fragrance of the incense was making me dizzy, and I remembered it had been hours since I’d had any food and days since I’d had anything substantial. All I’d been given on the caravan out to the temples had been water. I stood in my ceremonial robe, barefoot on a dusty stone floor, dreaming about a nice roast game hen or a lamb steak.

The lich tsar had translated the ritual in his neat handwriting from the ancient Egyptian into Russian. He rubbed a sweet-smelling oil on my forehead, then handed me the new scrolls. “Begin reading, Katerina. The ritual will explain what must be done.”

I took a deep breath. Perhaps we would not be raising anyone from the dead, for once, since there was no tomb here. This room was the alleged burial place of the god Osiris, but the sarcophagus had long since been removed. Still, I could feel the power in the space. The air was charged with magic. I hoped the talisman would protect me from any evil that we might conjure.

“Hurry up!” Mala said, eager to see the ritual completed.

Danilo merely smiled but used his thumb to rub the oil on Mala’s forehead as well as his own.

I glanced down at the scroll and began.

30

“ ‘Hail, Power of Heaven, opener of the way for those who have before,’ ” I read. “ ‘We have brought you cakes and ale and joints of meat. Hear the pleas of the departed.’ ”

Danilo placed a small red stone on the altar. It was carved in the shape of a scarab beetle.

I felt my cold light rise as I continued to read. The hair stood on the back of my neck as the energy in the room rose higher and higher.

“ ‘Hail, Power of Heaven, who rises in the east and sets in the west. Restore the beloved into this vessel before you.’ ”

The red scarab on the altar began to move. It looked as if something were inside it, trying to get out. Mala’s eyes grew big with fear. I wasn’t sure if she’d ever witnessed a formal ritual before. Unfortunately, I was becoming an expert at them. Did Danilo expect something or someone to be drawn into the scarab, or were we coaxing something out? Perhaps we would see a ghostly presence above the altar. I read on.

“ ‘Hail, Power of Heaven, who art exalted above the stars, I have come to you in a purified state. Restore the beloved into the vessel before you.’ ” It seemed strange to me to use the term “beloved.” I wondered if there was something wrong with Danilo’s translation. But I saw a sliver of cold light rising up out of the scarab.

Danilo smiled triumphantly. Without warning, he reached forward and grabbed Mala, twisting her as he dragged her across the altar. There was a golden flash as his other hand came up to her heart.

Mala screamed. And then she was silenced and became still. Her blood dripped onto the altar, bathing the scarab. As Danilo’s dagger fell to the floor with a clatter, he gently laid Mala’s body across the stone altar. He placed the bloodied scarab on her chest.

“Continue!” he shouted to me.

“What have you done?” I said, not believing what had just happened.

“We needed a vessel for the spirit. Mala seemed the perfect choice. She will make an attractive vessel, don’t you think?”

“A vessel for whose spirit?”

He picked the dagger back up and pointed it at me. “There is no time to explain. Continue the ritual or you will die with the dancer.”

My throat was dry, and my hands were shaking. I could not believe he had killed Mala in such a cold manner. All for a sword. Danilo grabbed me, the bloodied knife shoved up against my heart. But it was the lich tsar’s cold eyes staring at me. “Do not think you are safe, my dear. If you refuse to read the ritual, I will kill you and hunt you down in the Graylands and kill you again.”

The cold light rising up from the scarab hung in the air like a silver thread. It was waiting for me. Just like Danilo. I could feel my own cold light rising up inside as well. It was surging forward dangerously. If I did not complete the ritual, what would happen to my own light? I felt as if I were losing control. “ ‘Hail, Power of Heaven, who journeys beyond time and space, restore the beloved into this vessel.’ ”

The silver thread of cold light began to move toward Mala’s mouth. It glided through the air like a serpent. It made my skin crawl with revulsion. The cold light of this person was stealing Mala’s body. I could not see Mala’s cold light. Where had it gone? I wondered if I could travel to the Graylands after the ritual and find her. This was a horrible way to die.

As the cold light of the beloved slid into Mala’s mouth, her corpse seemed to take a deep breath. And she opened her eyes.

With a sickening feeling, I realized who the beloved was.

She sat up with a wicked, gleaming smile. Blood was still drying on the front of her black gown, but it did not seem to affect her. The lich tsar picked up her hand and kissed it. “I have longed for this day, Johanna.”

“As have I,” she said. Then Princess Cantacuzene turned to me. “I have wanted to kill this young necromancer for a long time.”

“Why?” I whispered. The evil vampire had been a sort of mentor to me, helping me discover my dark powers. She’d given me her copy of A Necromancer’s Companion. And she’d tried to protect me from the Montenegrins.

Or had she? “You planned all of this long ago, didn’t you?” I said, backing away from the altar. “You made sure that Danilo used the Talisman of Isis for his ascension. You wanted Konstantin to have a powerful sorcerer’s body to possess.”

“And I would have picked your body to return in, if you hadn’t been protected.” She reached over and tore my linen gown, revealing the Talisman of Isis. “Fortunately, Konstantin had a second plan waiting in the wings.”

I glanced at the lich tsar, whose eyes were shining a bright green now. I had no idea if any part of Danilo still existed in there. “You had her soul hidden in the scarab all this time?” I asked him. “I thought vampires did not have souls.”

“There’s much that you do not know, silly girl. Most of us do have souls, and I performed the ritual myself when I realized what Militza had done to me,” Princess Cantacuzene said. “I would have returned to my own body if you and the tsar’s son had not destroyed it.”

It made me sick to think of that day. George had to cut her head off when she’d killed my friend Dr. Kruglevski. “When I find the Morning Star, I will sever your head again,” I said, my voice deadly calm.

Her cruel laugh echoed in the tiny crypt.

I looked from her to the crown prince, still attempting to piece everything together. “How did Danilo even know the scarab existed?”

“Mala has kept the scarab safe with her all this time,” Princess Cantacuzene said. She stretched out her arms and examined her hands—Mala’s hands—as if she were trying on a new pair of gloves. “She sought out the crown prince when she saw signs of Konstantin’s return. She has always been faithful to me.”

“And this is how you repay her!” I exclaimed.

“The greatest gift,” the princess said with a smile, “is immortality.”

“Where is her soul now?” I demanded. If it was the last thing I did, I would make sure Mala’s soul was at peace. Even if it damned my own soul in the process.

“Do you wish to join her?” Princess Cantacuzene’s sharp fangs looked odd in Mala’s mouth. “That is part of this new plan, isn’t it, my love?” She held out her hand, and Danilo placed the bloody dagger in it. As graceful as a cat, the princess drew herself up and slid down from the bloody altar.