Endless Bindings @endlessbindings - Tumblr Blog

The Headline is 80% of the Message

According to “The Father of Advertising,” David Oglivy, five times as many people are likely to read the headline of an article or advertisement than the content it introduces. This was true during Oglivy’s “Mad Men”-era of advertising, and is even more relevant today, with publishers and content marketers competing in digital environments where an abundance of material is always present.

The power of the headline is enough to make any marketer scurry after the latest trends and hottest buzzwords. But while overly sensationalist headlines may initiate clicks, such tactics do little to drive your broader marketing goals, and can immediately undermine any foothold of trust with consumers.

Content marketing is a way to build your brand’s reputation, so think of headlines as a means by which to make a first impression to your readers – and making that first impression a good one requires catching readers’ interests. Headlines should make consumers curious about topics or introduce them to new ones.

So, how can you generate successful headlines while maintaining the trust and respect of your market?

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Championing the Colorado River: Grand Canyon Trust and American Rivers

In March our focus is #MooreWater and #MooreRivers, paying tribute to those tributaries and main arteries that connect communities within states and across borders through commerce, culture, livelihood, recreation and love of nature. We start with the Colorado River in the Grand Canyon and our visionary partners who protect it: Grand Canyon Trust and American Rivers.

Carving its way 1,450 miles from its start in the Rocky Mountains, through canyons, high plains and low deserts until it empties into the Sea of Cortez in Mexico, the Colorado River holds significance in America’s environmental, political and artistic history. Not only does this vast river tumble and flow through the states of Colorado, Utah, New Mexico, Arizona, Nevada, Wyoming, and California, providing resources to 30 million people in the Southwest, major cities such as Los Angeles, Phoenix, Las Vegas, Denver, and San Diego also depend upon the river for drinking water, landscaping and hydroelectric power.

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Epic snow puppy....

Merlin's Pawns

“MEREBETH!!”

“Gah!” I dropped the pestle that had been dangling precariously from the tips of my fingers, as I poured over the large grimoire below me, onto the thin leather of my booted foot.

“Ahhhhh!” Grabbing the throbbing foot, I hopped around, muttering a quick healing spell, as the copper horn in the corner of the room vibrated with my name in a high pitched voice.

“I am coming my lady!” I shouted back into the horn, before slamming the large tome before me with a resounding “thunk.” The Siamese cat on the other side of the book, whose silver gray body was wrapped around my hour-glass, peered up at me with her bright green eyes in annoyance.

“Oh don’t give me that look, Tasha!” I hurriedly fumbled with my apron strings knotted behind my back as I eventually pulled the stained cloth away, hanging it on the corner of the closest bookshelf, overflowing with large dusty tomes like the one on the table before me.

“You were supposed to tell me when the time ran out so that I would not be late!” I grabbed fistfuls of potion bottles and scraps of trash, scurrying around the room in a hasty attempt to right my grandfather’s lab. “Now, the Queen is hungry, and you know how she gets when she is hungry. Ohhh!” I lovingly flicked the naughty kitty’s ear as I passed once more to grab the hefty book, “I just hope she doesn’t drain one of her maids, they can be so hard to replace, and you,” I pointed a wagging finger at the kitty’s pink nose, as she settled her little face against her paws in an effort to continue her nap, “you are a terrible familiar, perhaps I should trade you in for an owl, or a dove? What do you think of that?” Tasha’s only answer was to open her mouth in a wide toothy yawn, her pink tongue curling in the process, as she stretched her paws before her, splaying them wide before curling herself more comfortably around my hourglass.

“Wretched cat,” I muttered before pulling a thin dagger out of my wrist sheath and grabbing a jeweled goblet from its tray. Walking over to the tall iron cage nestled in the corner of the room, I reached through the bars, grabbed an arm, and dragged the huddled pile of rags, bones, and flesh towards me until the limp arm was almost fully extended outside the bars. Curling the dirty fingers of the hand into a fist, I tied a thick scrap of fabric around the upper arm before I punctured the vein in the center of the inner elbow. No sound came from the pile of rags inside the cage, as the head of stringy brown hair, lolled against the bars, eyes closed in its sun-lined face. As the blood spilled forth from the wound, I lifted the arm over the goblet, letting the dark liquid fill the cup to the brim. Whispering another healing spell over the wound, I untied the fabric and folded the arm back in. Placing the goblet back upon its tray, I tried to ignore the vibrating horn on the wall where my name, mixed with a few other choice words, was still issuing forth.

Surveying the room, to make sure I had cleaned up enough, I asked Tasha to keep watch over the room, and made my way into the already crowded hall of the very busy castle. Despite the cat preferring her naps to helping me stay on time, she was otherwise a very good familiar and a great comfort. Guarding my grandfather’s lab, and everything in it was only one of her many tasks. Even though our prisoner was almost to the end of his life, and would soon be returned to his origins of dirt, there were many valuable things in Merlin’s lab. As his granddaughter, he was teaching me everything he knew, and had just given me that new book to work on last night, and I had spent the entire night pouring over it, trying to get a head start on the spell he expected me to have mastered by the end of the week.

As I carefully dodged servants in the hall scurrying about on their daily tasks, mingled with merchants and men on business to the court, I continued to go over the finer points of the spell in my mind. Most of the books my grandfather had me work through had been all too easy, and although I had begged for something harder, it wasn’t until my seventeenth birthday last week that he finally agreed to let me try something more challenging, a spell that could affect a group of people rather than just one or two.

Rounding a corner, I came to an abrupt halt into a little alcove on the west side of the castle that held a statue of Apollo chasing after the nymph Daphne. The statue was placed conveniently in front of a tapestry depicting one of Arthur’s many great battles, and also hid a private door leading to the Queen’s chambers known by a select few. Unfortunately the secluded nature of this alcove also encouraged amorous liaisons like the one before me now, causing me to nearly spill the Queen’s breakfast. The tangle of limbs, hair, and bunched fabric, made it hard to be certain who was involved and when my very loud throat clearing still did not separate the couple, I did the next best thing. Picking up the goblet in one hand, where my body heat would hopefully keep its contents warm, I place the tray between me and the moaning writhing mass of limbs, shoving them out of the way, where they tumbled from their perch on the wide ledge of the statue’s base, onto the floor.

“Ugh, get a room!” I stuck my tongue out at them before quickly shimmying behind the heavy fabric of the tapestry, pushing open the thick oak door I came upon next with my shoulder. Shoving the slab closed with my foot, I quickly strode down the short hallway, placing the goblet back on its tray before entering the queen’s chamber via another thick door.

“Merebeth!” she exclaimed, the minute my figure darkened her doorway. She was getting the finishing touches placed on her dark hair and dress by her ladies’ maids, and even though they were still fussing over her, she shooed them away, barking at them to move faster. The moment the last slippered foot disappeared around the corner, I was by her side, and the goblet was in her outstretched hands. She gulped the contents greedily, as I pulled a handkerchief out of the basket of linen set on her wardrobe table. When she finished she snatched the cloth from my hands, with bared red teeth, and proceeded to blot her stained lips and chin. Tossing the cloth in my face she turned once more toward the mirror, twisting her body back and forth as she examined her reflection, smoothing the velvet of her dress down across her already flat stomach as she sucked it in further and tugged the edges of her lace bodice lower exposing the mounds of her tiny bosom.

“What took you so long?” She didn’t wait for my answer, as she continued in her nagging sulky voice, “You should have been here first thing this morning, before my maids got here. I could have killed one of them! Ugh!” she stomped her tiny foot, as I handed her goblet back to her, now refilled with freshly poured water. She swished the water about in her mouth, before tilting her head back with a gurgle. I knew any response I had would be useless, so I did not even bother attempting to come up with one, as I waited patiently for her to finish cleansing her mouth so I could take the goblet back to Merlin’s lab.

Queen Guinevere was a vampire, of our making. Arthur did not always listen to Merlin’s council, and my grandfather needed to have a permanent bee in his ear. So, when he heard that he pined for the daughter of King Ryon of Ireland, he set his plan in motion. With help from a vampire friend from Rome, and me, he inflicted the young princess with a deadly illness before her wedding. He then told her father, that he could cure the young girl, but that the cure came with a price. She would be immortal, but would need to survive off the blood of humans. Valuing an alliance with England’s new warrior king more than his daughter’s happiness Ryon made the deal, and Merlin’s friend made the change. Now, Queen Guinevere, counts on my grandfather and I to keep her steadily supplied with blood from the worst criminals that can be found in the dungeon and we keep her secrets. In return, she provides the seduction and advice needed to prompt Arthur into taking the right paths of kingship. So, far it was a win-win. Well, almost…

The Queen was in the middle of her third swish and spit, when another figure emerged quietly through the secret door that was well hidden behind some decorative wall silks. The Queen gave a muffled squeal of delight through her puffed water filled cheeks before spitting the contents out in her wash basin, running the back of her hand across her still red lips, and jumping in the strong arms of the tall black haired young man before her. Their lips quickly met and amid a series of giggles, shrieks and the slapping of roving hands were well on their way to resembling the couple in the alcove when another voice followed by a loud knock sounded at the large front door, used by most, that served as entry into her chamber. The Queen and the young man flew apart, as her husband proceeded to ask for entry into her chamber from the other side of the door. I was already halfway through the secret door, attempting to avoid watching the tonsil match, when the voice of the king had me casting a quick glance over my shoulder to see the beseeching gestures of the Queen as she attempted to shoo the reluctant Lancelot toward the secret door. He had obviously too much wine before he came because his flush face had erupted into giggles behind his hand, and he moved with the languid grace of man half asleep. Rolling my eyes as the Queen’s face turned from beseeching to murderous, I grabbed Lancelot by the collar, slapped him with a silence spell and all but dragged him through the door into the narrow hallway, where it took much fumbling and whispered curses on my end to free my skirts from under his feet, as his too warm body pressed rigidly against my own. Once I managed to pull him by his sweaty palm out the other door back into the alcove, that was fortunately now vacant, I removed the silence spell from him, where he promptly burst into a fierce volley of curses, his good humor now gone. Kicking the door we had just passed through, he paced in front of the statue, running fingers through his thick black curls, anger snapping in his dark green eyes.

“Damn it! Why must I always run? She said she had told him about us!”

He then stopped before me; nose inches from my brow as his massive frame hovered over me,

“You can do magic, why can you not take care of this for us? Give Arthur a spell so that he will understand and let us go?”

My fingertips tingled with energy as I had the sudden urge to dig them in his chest, giving his heart a good jolt of well-deserved pain, “Have you not thought, perhaps that she does not want to go?”

I knew in that moment that I had probably pressed my luck too far, as I smelled the sharp tang of wine on his breath. Knights were sensitive creatures, making them volatile under drink, and often unpredictable. Fortunately, Lancelot knew what I was capable of because whatever was written on my face, caused him to take a step back, dipping his head to look at the tops of his boots. A few dark curls fell across his brow, reminding me that he was only a few years older than me, despite the many horrors of life he had witnessed, and battles he had fought.

“Ah little witch,” his voice was not unkind as he shook his head in sorrow, “you know not what love is.”

With that he turned on his heel, disappearing into the throng of people clogging the hallway. I stood there a moment, hands on hips, lips twisted as I wondered what could be done about this predicament. The affair between Lancelot and Guinevere was getting out of control.

A warm furry body, pressed against my calf, and the rumble of a purr pulled me from my thoughts as I looked into Tasha’s bright green eyes peering up at me.

I sighed, “Where to, love?” and followed her flicking tail as she led me through halls and up staircases until I reached another chamber door. Gazing at the familiar iron filigree as it wound across the door before me I looked down at the feline sitting patiently at my feet.

“Are you sure?”

She nodded her head, before rubbing her body across the bottom of the door. Calming my ratcheting heart, I knocked softly a few times before turning to walk away.

“No one home,” I breathed in relief, but my steps were quickly halted by the bristling, yowling ball of fur in my way. “Oh, all right!” I groaned, stomping back to the door and giving it a firmer knock.

“Enter!”

Pushing the door open, I stepped into the warm comfortable space that was the King’s study. The young monarch was standing next to his desk, riffling through a stack of parchments when I approached him. His head remained bent, fair golden shoulder length locks, forming a soft curtain around his face. Finding his quarry, he straightened up holding out a folded bit of parchment in my direction.

I didn’t manage to quell the gasp that escaped my lips when his face finally came into view, for he had a large red imprint of a hand across his cheek. Despite now having an explanation for why he had returned to his chambers so quickly, I couldn’t help but ask, “Sire, would you like, um…for me…to ah…”

I pointed to the mark on his cheekbone, right above his fair beard, my finger aching to reach its desired destination despite my self-control.

“Oh, this?” he waved a hand toward the red mark, “sure, if you want.”

I nodded, nervously licking my lips, as I pressed three fingers to his cheek, unable to take my eyes of his piercing blue ones as I muttered the incantation. It was a wonder I remembered the words at all, amid my drowning, and I quickly withdrew my fingers from his face, stuffing them in the folds of my skirt.

He smiled softly at my behavior before thrusting the folded parchment between us once more.

“Here,” his voice sounded unusually shaky, “your grandfather asked for me to find this and send it to him as soon as I could. Please tell him I would have gotten it to him sooner, but could not find him. Fortunately I spotted Tasha in the hall, and asked her to find him for me.”

I nodded, my mouth felt dry, as though it was filled with sand. I should have explained that as my familiar, Tasha would only know where to find me, but I couldn’t unhinge my jaw enough to speak.

Swallowing thickly, I tugged the parchment out of the King’s reluctant fingers, shivering as I felt his crystal blue eyes on my back when I left the room. He was till staring after me, as I glanced over my shoulder before closing his door behind me, a ghost of a smile playing with the edges of his full lips.

Gasping for air, I finally gathered my wits about me, closing my eyes; I concentrated on my grandfather’s whereabouts. Feeling his energy, I followed the thread of magic, back down to his lab.

Upon entering I handed him the folded parchment that was now stained with my nervous sweat before collapsing on the large chair, hiding under silks and furs, in the corner of the room.

“Ah, there you are my child! How has your morning gone? I see you have been eagerly working on the new spell?”

I gazed lovingly at the grizzled man standing over a small boiling cauldron, lit from below with witch fire. The same kind face, with the wisdom of the ages lining his face, peered at me through the steam of his new potion, waiting my answer.

I offered him a weak smile, before resting my head against the tall back of the chair beneath me.

“Fine,” I groaned.

“Come, come Merebeth, what troubles you?” He stuck a long-handled copper ladle into the mixture stirring it about before pouring it carefully into some empty vials. I instantly recognized the metallic scent of the formula that was given to our special prisoners that kept their blood supply up for the Queen.

“The lovely triangle going on between Lancelot, Guinevere, and the King, is getting out of hand, Grand-pere, and I do not know how much longer I can stand covering up for that little wench!”

Merlin gave me a stern glance before returning to his project, but he was nodding his head, “Yes, I have noticed that matters have worsened over the past few months, Lancelot is growing bold, and Guinevere careless.”

“I just wish we could do something about it! Can we not make a potion to force Guinevere to hate Lancelot, but love Arthur, more? You know be the Queen he actually deserves?”

“You mean like you, ma Cherie? I felt the heat creep across my cheeks at his words. I knew that I could not hide my regard for the King from my grandfather for long, but I did my best to try. It seemed as if I had not succeeded for long.

“Well,” Merlin placed the final stopper in the last vial, before opening the King’s note, and read it with a furrowed brow that soon smoothed across his alabaster skin, as he smiled in satisfaction. Muttering a few words the paper was consumed in flames, its ashes promptly scattered by Merlin’s breath. “Fortunately, I have a plan.”

“You do?”

He smiled kindly before pulling forth a fresh sheet of paper, scribbling a quick note on it, folding it, and then placing it in the capable beak of his hawk familiar, Percival. The elegant bird quickly disappeared out the window, into the bright cloudless day.

“I had Arthur send me a list of Lancelot’s gaming debts. Apparently there are many, and he has become so destitute and frivolous in his spending that he has become an embarrassment to his peers.”

I was barely aware of my body leaning forward, eager for Merlin’s plan.

“I have just sent in a favor to an old fey friend of mine. If she accepts the request then she will provide Lancelot with a love he can be proud of and the money he needs to earn back his honor among his friends.”

“So, that’s it?” The disgust was thick in my tone, “he threatens to ruin everything we have worked for and you are going to reward him?”

Merlin smiled fondly at me, as he gathered his dark green robes about his sturdy old body, sinking into the chair opposite mine. He patted my hand tenderly with his gnarled one, before removing a pipe from the small table between us and stuffing it with his favorite grass. “My dear, Lancelot needs a distraction, and Guinevere needs to learn a lesson. This is for the best.”

“Hmph,” I eyed him warily as I tugged a book off the precariously tipping pile next to my chair, settling it my lap, as I tucked my feet beneath me, “what he needs is his head removed.”

Merlin smiled around his billowing pipe, “Perhaps later, my dear.”

The next day, word arrived from Merlin’s friend, agreeing to his request, and the next month became almost unbearable. Lancelot had become the laughingstock of the Round Table, so he left to sulk in the woods where he was miraculously approached by three beautiful maidens who bid him come dine at their mistress’ table. True to her word, the beautiful fey, seduced the brash knight, vowing to love him, and showering him in gifts of coin, clothes, and food. As soon as the Queen caught wind of Lancelot’s fortune that left her bed cold she went on a slight rampage, draining no less than ten of her maidens, and a few other servants as well. Despite keeping her supplied with double the amount of blood, Merlin and I had to inflict the castle with a mild plague to cover her tracks. One hot afternoon, after disposing of yet another body, I collapsed into my favorite chair, too tired to clean the blood from my hands.

“Grand-pere?” I yawned, struggling to keep my heavy lids open, as they fought against two nights of lost sleep. “Will this be over soon?”

Merlin’s grey head was bent over another piece of parchment, his dark blue eyes, darted across the page, soaking in its message with a smile.

“I believe so,” the paper crumbled once more to ash in his palm before he looked up, “Merebeth, make haste to the Queen’s room. Lancelot is on his way to break the news of his engagement to Guinevere. I need to you be sure she does not try to drain him as well.”

“Great,” I groaned, rising to my throbbing feet, and rubbing my gritty eyes. Hastening to the Queen’s chambers, muttering a healing, cleaning, and energy spell, I made no pretense at secrecy as I barged into the room, for the screaming had started when I was still quite far down the hall.

“Please my lady!” I came up behind the screaming Queen, her quivering naked back was to me, her fair skin flushed with splotches of rage, as I wrapped my arms around her waist, pining her arms to her side.

She barely paid me any mind, as Lancelot, backed out of the secret door, one hand holding up his torn tunic, another raised in defense against the heat of the words she hurled his way. As soon as the door closed behind him, I spun her around, shaking her by the shoulders.

“My Queen, what is the meaning of this? Do you want the entire castle to come running?”

I looked into her brimming hazel eyes, as tears streaked down her cheeks. Blood trickled down her chin where her sharp fangs had undoubtedly extended during her rampage, and she had bitten her lip. The unabashed pain in her eyes melted my heart slightly, as I wrapped her robe around her shaking shoulders. I quickly realized from her scented room that she had been attempting to seduce her lover back.

Rolling my eyes at the absurdity of the situation, I coaxed her to the couch where I sat next to her, placing her head in my lap, I pierced my wrist with the sharp edge of my nail, letting her feed from my wrist as I smoothed her hair, and dried her tears. She whimpered like a child as she sucked greedily from my wrist, and once I felt her heart beat calm, I gently pried my arm out of her grasp, rubbing her temples in soothing strokes.

“Do not worry, my Queen, you still have a husband who adores you. Lancelot is nothing.”

She sniffled loudly before sitting up, her eyes raking over my face in sincerity.

“You are right,” she said through hic-upped breaths, as she ran her fingers along the silk edges of her robe. “He will pay for his disrespect to me.”

Grimacing, at her words I pondered where to push, but realized that this was all a part of Merlin’s plan. Guinevere had been hurt, but she had not yet learned her lesson. Leaving her to her sulking thoughts, I made my way back to my room, thinking only of my soft pillow, when I nearly ran into the King, leaning against the wall halfway down the hall from his chamber to the Queen’s.

“My lord!” I quickly hid my embarrassment in a low curtsey, which Arthur waved away with a hand.

“No, please, Merebeth, don’t.” His hand, gently cradling my elbow sent heat coursing through my veins, until it settled into a dull ache in the pit of my stomach. Rising from my curtsey, I offered a nervous grimace before continuing on my way.

“Merebeth,” I froze, realizing that he had just used my name twice, and my heart leapt with excitement, soon quelled by his next words. “Will she forget him soon?”

I turned back to look at the King, hope etched across his fine features as he pushed off from the wall and took a few steps towards me. I nodded dumbly, licking my lips free of their usual fear at what his heady musk scent that radiated from him, often did to melt my bones.

“I believe she will, sir.”

He offered a soft smile, his right cheek dimpling in a boyish way as he nodded, “Good.”

“Wait, you knew about her and---“

“Lancelot?” he finished for me.

I gulped, wondering how much damage her little tryst had done, and how we were going to fix it.

“I’ve known for a while,” he clasped his hands behind his back, rocking back on his heels as he cocked his head at me thoughtfully.

“What are you going to do?” I kicked myself inwardly at my sudden rash outburst, and held my breath for his answer.

“Nothing,” he shrugged, his curls brushing against the soft velvet of his tunic, “she loved me once, and I have faith in Merlin that,” he sighed deeply, “all will be well in the end.”

“Oh,” I mumbled, looking down at my foot as I made circles on the stone floor, “right.”

“But, you Merebeth, are an invaluable jewel,” I looked up quickly and was face to face with the hollow of his neck, pulsing slightly from waves of his heartbeat, “I would be lost without you.”

I stood wide-eyed staring dumbly as the silky threads of his beard lowered into my view, and he brushed a tickle of a kiss across my cheek.

Somehow, although, I later do not remember doing so, I managed to drop another courtesy, mumble my gratitude and flee to my room, where I laid curled in my bed, holding my cheek, worried that the mark of his lips would suddenly dissolve if I did not hold it in place.

The next few days happened in a blur that I still barely remember. Guinevere accused Lancelot of dishonor by seduction, and a trial was held. Lancelot, maintained his innocence by calling on his new consort, who before the noose was tightened around the knight’s neck, finally came parading with her stunningly gorgeous handmaidens down the street. She vouched for his honor, Lancelot was set free, and Guinevere was publicly humiliated and had finally learned her lesson. Knowing that she was no longer the most desirable maiden in the land, was a large piece of humble pie for her to consume.

Things have not been the same between her and Arthur since, and he still does not know that she is a vampire, or that she is under our control. She is learning to control her urges more, and there have been fewer accidents, but she is still short tempered. There also seems to be another issue that even the great Merlin was not able to predict. She has not been able to conceive, and the kingdom of Camelot will soon need an heir. Before rumors spread and other women come to dethrone our Queen to take her place, my grandfather and I have our work cut out for us.

Merlin’s friend from Rome, who turned Guinevere, arrives tomorrow, and as I clean the lab in anticipation for his arrival I have my usual chat with Tasha.

“Please, feline, for the love of all that is holy, don’t mess things up for us. I see what you have been up to, lately. Finding me and taking me to the King when he has not asked for me. It has been making things very awkward as of late, and wherever you have hidden those fertility spells, you best find them quick. We have a royal baby to make.”

Blinking up at me with her bright green eyes, Tasha let out a throaty meow, that sounded more like a chuckle, before curling herself around my hourglass, and tucking her nose under her tail for a nice long nap.

The Book of Thoth

The pounding in Richard’s head was incessant. With a groan, he felt something hit his forehead. It only took a moment for him to realize that it was his own hand. Working his fingers to massage the delicate skin of his brow, he mentally berated himself for having that last shot of Jaeger last night. Or was it technically this morning? That was a big mistake.

Coffee, he needed coffee and he needed it now. He wasn’t quite sure how he managed to untangle himself from his sheets and the limbs of the girl sleeping next to him. Stacy, Sheila, Shannon? His groggy mind tossed around names as he stumbled into his kitchen. Ugh, it was too early to try and remember her name. He knew it started with an “s,” or at least he was pretty sure it did. Scratching his bare chest, he blinked the sleep out of his eyes. The grains felt like large pebbles instead of the tiny pieces they were, and he popped a k-cup into his Keurig. Just as the rich aroma of his favorite blonde roast filled his post party cluttered kitchen, the banging in his head seemed to somehow transfer to his front door.

“Alright, alright! Owwww!” Richard somehow made it to the door, swinging it open, “Do ya mind? It’s---“ he blinked into the fluorescent light of his building’s hallway before focusing on the two people standing in front of him. He actually had no idea what hour it was, or even the day. “Well, there’s never any good time to bang on anyone’s door.”

“Christ Almighty,” gasped a female voice that echoed in the hall.

“Nope, you just missed him, ‘bout 2,015 years ago, but thanks for calling, ‘bye.” Richard moved to slam the door in the wide eyed face of the petite woman in front of him, but the man beside her slapped his palm against the particle board wood, preventing it from closing.

“Mr. Mason, we’re with the FBI—“ both the man and woman quickly flipped open badges in Richard’s face, “---I’m Special Agent Wilson and this is my partner, Special Agent Carney. May we come in and have a few words?”

Richard sighed, letting the door swing open before he turned to head for the kitchen as he scratched his bare bottom, “I guess.”

Agent Carney cleared her throat as her heeled steps clattered on the floor behind him. “Um, do you think you could, ahem, cover yourself?”

Richard pulled his full mug from the machine and threw a few spoonfuls of sugar in it. Swirling the spoon around in the mug, he turned to look at the woman who was standing awkwardly in the furthest corner of his tiny kitchen, staring pointedly at a brown water stain on the ceiling.

“Well, Agent Carney---“ Richard leaned back against his counter, crossing his feet at the ankles as he blew on his coffee, “you’re in my house invading my personal time. I think I should be able to dress however I see fit. Or not.” He issued a tight smile in her direction that she barely caught when she lowered her eyes a fraction before lifting them once more to the spot on the ceiling. From the looks of her ill-fitting suit, dirty blonde hair pulled back into a severe pony-tail and sensible black shoes, she probably didn’t get to see many naked 22 year olds. He thought about making his pecs dance for her but considered that might be going too far. He didn’t need a woman swooning in his kitchen, he already had one in his bed.

“Hey, hot stuff, just cover up a bit so my partner can do her job, ok?” Agent Wilson was staring at Richard disapprovingly, his hands hiked up on his hips. Richard was instantly reminded of his father and a corner of his upper lip curled slightly in a snarl. His dad used to stand in the same manner, with the same look of condescension clouding his brown eyes and wrinkling his brow.

Richard grabbed a dish towel and draped it across his hips. Despite his lean 6 foot 3 frame, the towel didn’t quite wrap around, but some careful tucking would keep it in place if he didn’t move.

“Happy?”

Agent Carney’s grey eyes flickered in his direction once again, while shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot. “You only have one?”

“That’s clean, yeah, there’s a whole roll of paper towels on that shelf behind you if you’d care to wrap me up. But really doll, I’m not into the whole mummy fantasy.” He quickly hid his smirk in his mug as he took another sip.

A large sigh from Agent Wilson as he shook his bald head gave the blushing Carney a good distraction. “Look can we just get on with it?”

Agent Carney nodded to her exasperated partner as she bit her bottom lip, steeling herself to the task at hand. Richard wondered at her age. She didn’t look fresh from the academy, but she didn’t look more than 27, either. He was unsettling her. At one point, the thought would have thrilled him, but unsettling people, especially women, was getting a little dull.

“Right.” Agent Carney cleared her throat once more before looking at Richard. “We need your help.”

“That much is certain.” Richard took another sip from his coffee, wiggling his eyebrows at her as he lowered the mug, but this time she powered through her speech.

“When you were at MIT, you and your three best friends formed a hacker ring called ‘The New Kingdom.’ After your group crashed the DOW, stole files from the new database set up to manage the nation’s healthcare and rigged the last presidential election, you disbanded. While we are grateful not to be looking over our backs anymore, it seems as if your friends have become active again.”

“Agent Carney, you’ve been misinf---“

“I’m not done.” Agent Carney shook her head, lips tightening into a thin line as though the worst was yet to come. “Your friends seem to be looking for something, something they can’t find and they are destroying the security of cyber intelligence worldwide in their quest to find it. Their correspondence suggests they think it’s hidden in Egypt somewhere, but what we can’t figure out is why they have been slowly destroying the financial and security systems of small countries in their quest to find it.”

“Egypt?” Richard scoffed, “I’m sorry, but you lost me right after ‘you disbanded.’ I left that group for a reason, I don’t do any of that stuff anymore. I’m sorry, but I can’t help.”

“Son, you mean to tell me that after graduating high school at the age of 12 and MIT at 16 that that brain of yours just stopped working?” Agent Wilson was looking up at him from beneath his bushy grey eyebrows. Once again, an image of Richard’s military father flashed before his eyes. He never could figure out how a man shorter than he was could still look up at him like that.

“I’m sorry guys, but I---“

A shuffling noise and a stifled yawn drew all eyes to the doorway of Richard’s room. His mystery girl from last night appeared wearing one of his white t-shirts, her black hair tumbled past her shoulders in messy waves. Richard’s heart felt tight at the sight of her. He couldn’t believe her name was slipping his mind. Her olive skin seemed to glimmer in the shaft of sunlight pouring in through the tiny window in his kitchen, as her lithe frame padded across the small space toward him.

“Hi Peggy, hi Mike.” She fluttered a few fingers and a bright smile in their direction. Richard’s skin felt hot and prickled with adrenaline. She knew them?

“Setne,” Agent Carney nodded in her direction, a look of relief washing over her face.

“Good morning, ahem, Agent Daher.” Now it was Agent Wilson’s turn to sound uncomfortable.

His red face was soon blocked from Richard’s view by a pair of almond shaped brown eyes looking up into his. She pressed her hips into his groin, kissing him, reminding his body just how much fun last night was. A sputtered cough on the other side of the room broke through the haze in his brain as Setne pulled away. She remained inches from his face, looking imploringly into his eyes.

“You’ll help, right?”

Richard swallowed hard, trying to regain control of his faculties. The more his mind flashed through images of the night before, the more he wondered why he had said “no” to the agents standing awkwardly in his kitchen. Then a gruesome memory followed the images of last night’s fun.

“No” Richard shook his head before planting his hands on Setne’s hips and shoving her to the side. “I left that group for a reason, you’re going to have to figure it out on your own.”

Setne turned from him, nonplussed by his refusal and swept a small group of empty beer bottles off the counter and into the sink. Richard cringed at the crashing, shooting her a glare, as she pulled a loaf of bread forward and proceeded to pop two pieces into the toaster. She seemed completely at home, as if, other than last night, this wasn’t the first time she had been in his home. He realized that it probably wasn’t.

As the tiny space filled with the scent of cooking bread, Setne bustled about getting everything she wanted for her breakfast and asking the other agents if they wanted anything. Richard’s mouth hung open in bemused shock. Just who did this woman think she was?

Once the agents had politely refused her attempts to feed them, she returned to the topic at hand.

“Look, we’re sorry about what happened to your mother, it was unfortunate.” She didn’t even give Richard a chance to respond, not that the topic of his mother’s kidnapping and murder was really breakfast conversation. “Did you guys tell him about Egypt?”

“Well, we started to, but…” Agent Carney’s defense trailed off.

Setne offered a dazzling smile that seemed to calm Carney’s nerves before pressing on.

“Yes,” she turned narrowed eyes at Richard, “we managed to capture one of your old friends and he keeps going on and on about Egypt, sand, pyramids, and sarcophagi….”

She threw an exasperated hand in the air, before grabbing a knife and buttering her toast with a little more energy than necessary. Richard felt a small stab of satisfaction when she ripped a hole in the middle.

Through gritted teeth, Setne continued, “We just can’t figure out what Egypt has to do with this book they seem to be looking for. We’ve been watching them for months now, and neither they nor any of their associates have made any plans to visit the country or make contacts within it. We also don’t see why a bunch of hackers would have a need for a book.”

Richard shrugged a shoulder with an air of carelessness, “Maybe they need a bed time story. Hackers get scared of the dark too, you know.”

Setne leveled the knife in his direction, eying him down the length of the dull blade. He had no doubt she could probably kill him in twenty different ways with that thing. He had a feeling she was more than FBI. Her movements were too sure and controlled as well as graceful. The fun and easy going image she had presented last night had been quickly shed while talking business. “You know what they’re after, don’t you?”

Richard spread his hands wide with another shrug.

“Well, it’s a shame you don’t. I guess we will just have to work on young Morrison a little longer.”

“You’ve got Skitter?” Richard bolted out of his languid slouch, not caring when the towel plummeted to the floor.

Setne licked at the jelly that had dribbled down the side of her palm, her eyes focused on Richard’s now tense frame. Agent Carney and Wilson, who had been leaning forward, swept up in the tete-a-tete before them, now inched closer.

Setne smiled knowingly. All it took was mentioning the group’s youngest member, and Richard would be caught.

“Picked him up last week,” she said with nonchalance, “He doesn’t care much for isolation, does he?

“Oh no,” Richard breathed. He felt the heat of anger spread across his chest. “No, no he doesn’t.”

Jeremy Morrison, or Skitter, as the group had fondly called him was an autistic genius. He didn’t have the best social skills, but his way around computers, especially encryptions was unparalleled.

Richard pushed away from the counter, stalking towards his bedroom, his angry steps reverberating through the thin floors. The downstairs neighbors would be pissed. He’d probably get kicked out if they complained again. Suddenly he didn’t care.

“Where are you going?” Agent Carney asked all eyes were now on him. Setne looked triumphant, Wilson and Carney concerned.

“To change!” Richard called out over his shoulder before slamming the door on them. He yanked open drawers and began angrily struggling into his clothes.

“You’re going to take me to Skitter!” he shouted at the door.

Agent Wilson looked at the girls incredulously, shaking his head at the outburst. “How’s he supposed to change when he wasn’t wearing anything?”

Setne rolled her eyes as she popped the last bite of toast into her mouth while Carney snorted, a smile playing on the edges of her lips.

By the time Richard entered the white-walled holding cell, where Skitter was kept, his blood was positively boiling. The sixteen year old boy was curled into a fetal position on an empty cot, reciting King Richard III.

“…O coward conscience, how dost thou afflict me! The lights burn blue. It is now dead midnight. Cold fearful drops stand on my trembling flesh…”

Shakespeare was the one thing that could soothe Skitter, and he was always partial to the history plays. Richard smirked at the irony before him, shaking his head. Softly, he began reciting the rest of the monologue with Skitter, and together, they finished the rest of the play.

Skitter hadn’t looked at Richard the entire time they spoke, but as the last word fell between them, he finally lifted his pale blue eyes.

“Hiya kiddo. How’re you holding up?” Richard asked from his cross legged position on the floor. In a flash, Skitter launched himself at Richard, flinging his arms around his neck in a bear hug.

A flow of babbling words erupted from the scrawny kid and despite the chaotic message it didn’t take Richard long to figure out what Skitter was saying. When he, Josh, and Celia had first started the group, they had given all of their jobs themes based on lessons in their other classes. If someone overheard them talking about a hack, most would assume they were discussing a school project instead. History was often one of the easiest subjects to use for covering their tracks, but the legends and myths of various cultures made it even easier. After five minutes, Richard knew everything, even the information he had left the group over.

“Skitter,” Richard placed his hands on the boy’s shoulders, pushing him back to look into his child like face, “Ready to get outta here?”

With a loud sniff and a rub of his sleeve across his nose, Skitter nodded.

“Ok then.” Richard popped his head out into the sterile hallway, and with a glance to the guard on duty asked for Agent Daher. He had found out on his drive to the FBI’s New York headquarters that Setne was with the CIA. This was her three ringed circus and she was the master.

By the time she entered the room, now dressed in an expertly cut pantsuit instead of his t-shirt, Skitter had begun repeating random words again.

“The waters of Coptus…kill the mummies, defend the sand, the pyramids hold the keys to the waters. The waters hide the book…the Book of Tho—“

Richard broke in, “Skitter, calm down, shhhhhh…how does Henry IV start?”

As Skitter began a fresh recital, Richard turned to a bemused Setne, his hands on his hips.

“If you want my help, I want three things.”

“Oh, only three?” Setne laughed short and low.

Richard gave her a quelling look. “Yeah. Skitter gets to go and you don’t press charges, I want the murder of my mother re-opened and it needs to stay open until it’s solved, and lastly…” Richard’s lips curled in disdain as he delivered his final ultimatum. “I want immunity from any further technology related activity I conduct.”

Setne frowned as she considered the options. She paced back and forth in the tiny cell, casting glares at both of the men.

“Look,” she took in a deep breath, “I don’t have the power to grant all of those requests. I can meet the first, but your father has already been charged with your mother’s murder, and I can’t promise you the third without getting higher approval.”

Skitter’s recital was getting louder and he was now jumping on the wafer thin mat of his cot. His energy and the repetitive thumping raised the tension in the room.

Richard crossed his arms, “Did I mention we have a 24 hour time limit? Look, my friends stole something from me, and in the process of selling it on the black market got my mother killed. Yeah, my dad was a controlling asshole, but he worshipped my mother. He would never would’ve hurt her. However, if you want the Book of Thoth, then you’ll have to meet my demands. In 24 hours, its contents will be accessible by multiple buyers, and you’ll have utter chaos on your hands.”

Setne stopped in front of Richard, looking him over carefully. “And how, do you propose to get this program back?”

“Skitter told me everything I already need to know. You give me a computer and access to the government’s network, and I do mean the entire network, 12 hours, and I’ll recover the program.”

“Well now,” Setne tilted her face up, her lips hovered before Richard’s. All he had to do was tilt his head forward a fraction of a centimeter and that mouth would once again belong to him. He swallowed thickly, steeling himself against her charms. “That brings your demands up to six.” Her breath smelled like cinnamon, and it was warm across his bottom lip. Richard remained frozen.

“Fine.” Setne stepped back, breaking the spell, and walked toward the door. “Let’s get to work. Gregory…” She motioned to the guard and gave him orders for Skitter’s release. The moment the boy heard the news of his imminent exit he jumped off the cot and, sailing past Richard, followed the guard down the hall.

“And he didn’t even say goodbye.” Setne tsked, “Some friend.”

Richard scowled at her. “Tick-tock Agent Daher.”

Setne motioned him to follow her and they turned to walk down the hall in the opposite direction from Skitter and the guard. They soon came upon a set of heavy oak doors and after swiping a badge and pressing in codes, they were omitted into another long corridor with grey commercial carpeting and closed office doors lining each side of the hall. Another turn spit them out into a large room, partitioned off with cubicles. Setne smiled and greeted various people they passed, but after a few more heavy doors with tighter and tighter security, the number of people they came across waned. Finally, after stopping in a break room for some surprisingly good coffee and a handful of donuts for Richard, they entered into a large room full of computers.

The room was empty and the monitors black, but Setne logged into the nearest one as Richard pulled out the ergonomic chair.

“So,” she leaned over his shoulder as his fingers flew over the keyboard, instantly working his way through every data base the government had. “Are you going to explain to me what we are looking for and what the connection is with Egypt?”

Without his fingers breaking their stride and his eyes continuously scanning the screen, Richard explained how each of their hacks were given themes often rooted in history or mythology.

“Okay,” Setne’s voice held a layer of skepticism, “What are we looking for.”

“I am looking for a program, broken up into pieces and hidden within the United States government’s infrastructure of databases. The program is called The Book of Thoth and is named after an Egyptian god who was believed to have created the first language and wrote the secrets of the cosmos and life in a book.”

Setne leaned forward further, scrutinizing the screen that was now filling with more windows, covered in various codes. “I’m guessing this program doesn’t contain the secrets to the universe.”

Richard felt prickles of irritation erupt across the back of his neck. There was no way he was going to spend the next twelve hours with her hovering over him like that. If what Skitter had said was true, the book had been very well hidden and he was going to need every minute and every ounce of focus he had. He might have achieve god-like status in the world of cyber intelligence, but a hack like this required usually required more than one person.

“You know what I could really kill for right now?”

Setne straightened up, eyeing him carefully, wondering what his next request would be. Richard kept his eyes on his work.

“I could go for some Twizzlers, Red Bull, and beef jerky. Get me the good stuff, though, none of that Slim Jim shit.”

“Sure,” Setne sounded peeved, “Whatever his royal highness requires.” The minute the door closed behind her, he smirked as he pulled out a thin USB from the inside of his shoe. He quickly plugged it into the back of the computer’s hard drive and created a hidden file from it. He needed to make sure his work was copied and saved automatically.

As the rest of the hours progressed, he routinely sent Setne out on errands for her to get him random things. Each time she’d huff away, but when she came back, she peppered him with questions. He was beginning to wish he had feigned not being able to talk while working. But, she eventually got the story out of him.

The Book was a special program that powered a chip which could be surgically inserted into the brain of an individual that would then send signals that could enhance or suppress certain functions of the brain. Richard had created it based on his neurosurgeon mother’s discoveries. After stealing it from him, his friends had apparently hired another hacker to hide it, but he too had been murdered.

“But why would---“

Her question was cut short by a commotion outside the door of their room. She had been leaning back in a chair with her bare feet kicked up on the desk next to Richard as she massaged him for information. She had already uncovered the Egyptian connection and found out that the names of certain pyramids and temples were code for specific databases. The mummies were security in the form of viruses set to protect each database from being mined for the program, and the sand was coding that Richard had to shift through and work in order to bypass the mummies and access the parts of the program held in sarcophagi.

With gun drawn, Setne tip-toed toward the door. Through the haze of his concentration, Richard heard the safety release on her gun. As she slowly turned the knob of the door, shots rang out on the other side, and the double doors were shoved open. Setne was knocked onto her back and tear gas flooded the room. Richard’s eyes began to burn and water as the smoke traveled to his lungs. The irritating chemicals made each breath scraped his insides with the sharp intensity of razors. Gasping, his body doubled over with wracking coughs and he slid out of his chair, falling onto all fours. Shouts could be heard and the swooshing of fabric as agents entered the room, fully armed and wearing gas masks. Richard could hear Setne’s angry threats as another agent explained that Richard was wanted for arrest and her boss had a few words for her. With watery eyes Richard held his breath and crawled under the desk, promptly removing the USB, stashing it back in his shoe. Seeing a small gap of light from the open door, he struggled to hold his coughs in, army crawling toward the opening. Just as his hand extended over the threshold, he was grabbed beneath his arms, a black cloth thrown over his face, his wrists and ankles zip tied. He was immediately lifted and carried off. He choked and sputtered, the cloth getting stuck in his mouth as he struggled for fresh air. Before he knew it, he felt weightless before he landed chest down on a hard surface. His captors had been silent the entire time and after he heard the sound of a van door sliding shut and the felt the ground beneath him jerk and rumble forward, the cloth was lifted from his head.

The faces that entered his view were that of Josh and Celia. Josh was dressed in black combat gear and was clearly one of his captors, Celia was dressed in a blouse and trousers. Since he had never seen her out of her favorite Gap jeans, he knew she must have posed as someone who worked in the building.

“Hiya, Richie! I brought help!” Skitter’s enthusiastic voice rang out from the driver’s seat as the van took a corner sharply. Richard rolled across the floor as Josh and Celia gripped parts of the interior for support.

“Damn it Skitter!” Josh groaned, “Try to be more careful, would ya? We don’t want them following us!”

“They probably already are,” said Richard, hopefully, as Celia cut his bindings.

“Nahhhh, trust me, we’re good. It’s all taken care of,” responded Josh. “And, look.” He handed Richard a laptop with a wifi card protruding from its side. “Now you can finish what you started.”

“Now, why would I do that?” Richard placed his palm down on the laptop, caressing its smooth surface. Despite the day’s events, he was always seduced by the latest in technology and this laptop in particular called to him.

“Well, I’m sure you’d like your program back, wouldn’t ya? And, if you help, I can give you the case file on your mother. It’s under some pretty tight security clearances.” Josh smiled at Richard. This was the second time today he felt had.

“Yeah, and Agent Daher is not as innocent as she looks.” Intoned Celia.

Make that the third.

“Fine.” Richard groaned, opening the lid and getting back to work. “Just one question.”

“Sure.” Offered Josh.

“Who did you sell it to?”

“The Iranians, the Russians, and Syria.”

“All at once?”

Josh nodded his head sheepishly.

“And a few other smaller countries…” Celia’s voice came out in a bit of a squeak.

“Shit, I can’t think of any better countries who need the power of creating custom sociopaths.” Richard disarmed the last mummy virus, “You know that wasn’t the intent of this program.” He pounded the keys, retrieving the sand from the sarcophagus the mummy had been guarding.

The van finally slammed to a halt, causing everyone to pitch forward. Seeing his opportunity, Richard bolted toward the door, flinging it open. The old metal screeched in protest and the sound echoed across the twilight air. Realizing that they had stopped across from the Hudson Pier, Richard sprinted toward the railing, not slowing for the cries of his friends behind him or the pounding of their feet as they chased him. Richard wasn’t as much of an athlete as Josh and it wasn’t long before his footsteps got closer. Still a few feet from the water, Richard chucked the laptop in the river with a satisfying splash. The momentum of his sprint caused him to slam into the railing, the force shoving the air out of his lungs in a loud whoosh.

“Damn it Richard!” Josh’s volley of curses rented the air.

Celia finally caught up with Skitter in tow. “Oh Richard, why?”

“That’s not what it’s for,” replied Skitter, cutting off Richard’s attempted defense.

“You’re right, Skitter,” sighed Richard, staring out into the darkening waters. “That’s not what the water is for.”

Skitter shook his head, “Your Mom would be proud.”

“See,” Richard turned to his old friends before clapping Skitter on the shoulder. “He’s the only one of us who makes sense.”

As the President walked into the room followed by his joint chiefs of staff, Setne was glad the table hid the crossing and uncrossing of her ankles. This was it, her big moment. The disaster of two days ago were a distant memory and paled to her bright future that flashed across her mind. Sure they had lost the hackers, but when a USB had arrived by air express yesterday, containing all of the key strokes from Richard’s work she knew she had been saved. Once the President had settled in his chair, she was called upon to give her presentation. With clamoring heart and sweaty palms, she inserted the USB into the computer connected to the projector. After typing in a password that came with the package, she clicked on the little icon in the corner of the screen.

A window popped up, filling the projected space. Setne frowned, this didn’t look right. As her hand reached for the mouse, noises of an intimate nature spilled through the speakers and a split second later a home film began to play. Images of her and Richard moved across the screen.

Setne froze. Public humiliation in front of the President? She would have preferred death.