Bound by Blood

Chapter 7

The next morning, Ben and I spent several hours poring over Uncle Theo's old photo albums. The bulk of them were devoted to images of his various expeditions. There were very few of any more intimate nature.

Uncle Theo had never married, preferring to devote himself to his work and to keep his own company. I suspected we were similar in that way, though Uncle Theo dismissed concepts like asexual and aromantic as superfluous—evidence of existential desperation in a culture where identity had become the currency of social worth.

Maybe he was right, but I valued these labels nonetheless. They gave form and substance to a nature that otherwise sometimes seemed as difficult to grasp as air, and that defied the comfort of a binary mindset.

But while I experienced romantic attraction, Uncle Theo seemed indifferent to even that, and as far as I knew, had never had a relationship of that nature. Then again, I was beginning to realize I might not know as much about my uncle as I'd previously thought.

The albums ranged from the late '80s through the early 2000s. After that, Theo had made the reluctant switch from film to digital, and stopped compiling physical albums, which I found unfortunate. There was something about a physical print, set in a book with time and care, that a collection of digital files just couldn't replicate.

By the end of our search, we'd found two more photos that showed possible references to the sphere. One was from an earlier dig than the first, and the second dated from around 2004, as far I as could tell.

The former appeared to have been taken at a site in Egypt. Uncle Theo crouched behind a collection of potsherds spread out on the ground, one of which showed a hieroglyph of a man holding a glowing ball. It might have been a typical depiction of Ra, if not for the odd markings encircling it.

The second was a shot of my uncle in another desert place—Kurdistan, I guessed, from the mountains in the background—holding a small chunk of broken bas relief in the palm of his hand. It showed the figure of a man surrounded by a ring of the unknown script.

"Well," Ben said, closing the last album with a snap. "I don't know what this tells us, but at least it's something. Maybe someone at the University would know more. You should try asking your godmother, for a start."

We were in the sitting area, Ben on the couch and me seated on the floor. We'd removed the three photos from their books, and they now lay spread before me on the coffee table.

"You're right. She hasn't had much contact with Uncle in a while, but they used to be close. If these pictures tell us anything, it's that he was looking for the sphere, and he's been at it for a long time."

Ben glanced at his watch. "I've gotta go. The movers are showing up later with my stuff, and then I've got a meeting in the city tomorrow." He looked up at me. "Will you be all right? I still don't like the idea of you being alone. Especially if that pervert ghost is hanging around."

I laughed. "Pete's not a pervert." Actually, I didn't know that, but it was beside the point. "I'll be fine. And I'll be sure to keep my phone charged. Also I can ward the house against anything paranormal or supernatural—in theory, at least."

"What if the intruder comes back?" Ben asked. "I mean, he's already broken in twice, and he didn't get what he was after. What if he tries again?"

"I'll be on my guard," I said, more confidently than I felt. "I'll be fine."

Ben looked like he wanted to argue, but only nodded. "Okay. Call me right away if something happens."

I promised I would. A short while later, Ben left, and I was alone.