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Siya’s reaction was more than Atticus could have dared to hope. The look that passed her eyes and the fluid sway of her body made his demonic nature roar inside of him, and he let an involuntary growl gurgle in his throat. The characters of his tattooed tapestry were now writhing in tormented combat, with the angels trying to restrain the demons as they bucked and howled in response to Atticus’ sudden flush of desire.

He tried to force the thoughts from his mind, blinking away the flare in red color from his eyes and slowing the pulse of his demon heart. What Siya brought out in him was unlike anything any other creature had ever done, and that very knowledge almost pushed him to the edge of lustful control. The tender touch of her hand to his thankfully helped bring his inner demon back from the brink. 

Atticus reached back to her, and gently squeezed the small vampire’s fingers and followed Siya’s gaze to where Veti sat, half-hidden and downhearted. His elation from just moments before fell now as he looked at the once proud and vivacious werewolf. Guilt crept into his thoughts, and once again the image of make being swallowed by the death’s murky waves flashed before him. 

The thought of talking to Veti for the first time in so many long months was a daunting one, but the prospect also allowed him the chance to explain to her more about what he had discovered in Egypt. 

He gave Siya’s hand a final squeeze. “Yes, later. And alone is even better.”

With a parting smile, he left Siya’s side and stepped towards Veti. Henry beat him to the werewolf, and in that instant he decided that it was best if everything was explained all at once, and to all those who had answered his call.

Atticus looked about, silently counting the faces in the now crowded stone circle. They were all here, though some less clothed then others he noticed. Such instances no longer phased the demon. He had long ago forgotten how to be surprised by the strange happenings of the Veiled World. 

Pushing his way through the crowd, Atticus pulled himself up onto one of the stones, and whistled for attention. It took a moment for everyone gathered to face him, but soon enough there was quiet in the growing Irish gloom. 

“Welcome, and thank you for coming. It means a lot to me, and more importantly, Reginald Hoyle, that you have shown such initiative to be here. Unfortunately, Mr. Hoyle could not be with us this evening to explain the situation himself. On the other hand, his absence gives me the opportunity to pursue another matter, one that is very near and dear to me, and one that is completely out of the hands of the Bain & Hoyle Company.”

Atticus scanned the group, gauging the reactions to his proclamation. He continued, undeterred. “First, before I continue to Hoyle’s mission, we will begin with my own. Many of you knew Max, and others have only heard of the sacrifice he made to save our world.” 

His eyes dimmed as he spoke of Max, his gaze falling to Veti. “He was a man that laid down his life with the hope and faith that he would one day return to those he loved. We failed him. When he came back to deliver us Decima’s soul, we could not transfer his own soul back to the realm of the living in time. He was swept away, back into death.”

“The last eleven months since Decima’s defeat I’ve spent my time roaming the world for a means to right that wrong.” His expression grew more hopeful, more confident then, “I think I have found it, locked away deep in the lost archives of the Library of Alexandria.”

Atticus reached into his back pocket and withdrew a folded piece of copy paper. He flattened it, straightened the edges, and held it up for all to see. Even in the dim light the picture was clear and distinct. It showed a sandstone tablet of hieroglyphs transposed over a rough oblong shape with many radiating lines running from a center triangular marker. 

“This,” he said, “is an ancient map that marks the location of the god Osiris’ ankh. Literally, this object was the key of life, the very ankh that was forged when Isis brought the pieces of the dead Osiris back together, allowing him to ultimately be resurrected as the god of the underworld.”

Atticus handed down the page to Henry so the Siren could pass the map around. “I have confirmed the existence of this artifact through several sources. The challenge lies in actually finding it after thousands of years of it being lost to the world. It is our best hope of at last being able to pull Max from the realm of the dead.”

He jumped down from the stone, and moved easily into a slow walk. His steps took him amongst the crowd once more, and he turned to look towards each individual gathered. “I will say that I cannot carry out this journey personally. I owe my life to Reginald Hoyle, and I have already pledged my service to him. So, I must know, before I tell you of Hoyle’s mission, who will volunteer to find the ankh, and bring Max back to where he belongs?”

As he said this, Atticus leaned to Henry, his voice dropping to a whisper so only his friend could hear. “Henry, I know I just asked for volunteers, but I need you with me. You’ll understand soon enough why.”