“SORRY, ANSON. Your search for the stela ends here!”

The voice of the woman funnelled down the underground passage, the echoes fluttering off the stone like startled bats.Anson Hunter, alternative Egyptologist and theorist, felt a chill as the words reached his ears. It was caused as much by the emotional separation in her voice as by its distance. Her voice was startlingly removed. It was also hard and cold. A few minutes earlier she had been a companionable presence at his shoulder. Now this. She had deserted him, stealing back up the ramp of the passage. Why?

THE IBIS APOCALYPSE - Amazon Kindle