Here it is in all its glory, as a reward to you loyal men and women who’ve watched us struggle through the birthing process.

Shar Summer opened the heavy doors to the storeroom of the Summerville College history department, pulled her reluctant black and gray long-haired dachshund into the dim interior with her, and stopped when she saw five women and their dogs sitting in a semi-circle of chairs around a platform stacked with old file boxes. They looked like they were worshipping some ancient goddess of archives.

Some comedian had put electric tiki torches across the front of the room by the doors which left the back of the room in darkness, but there was enough light that Shar could survey the group with the practice born of twenty-six years of teaching: two giggling teenagers with mixed breed dogs (attention spans of gnats); a pale, thin brown-haired girl with a massive black Newfoundland (needs encouragement to participate); a tiny intense blonde with a notebook and a leaping Jack Russell (wants an A and will probably get it); and a glaring brunette with a glaring Chihuahua on her lap (oh, hell, Mortuary Mina); all eyeing each other warily.

Well, they were inside a windowless room in the center of an ancient stone step temple that had been retrofitted as a college classroom building. That could make anybody edgy, even in Southern Ohio.

Wolfie whined.

“This won’t take long,” Shar told him, and went over to take one of the last two chairs between the over-achieving blonde and Mortuary Mina.

“Hello, Mina,” Shar said as she sat down beside the blonde.

“Hello, Professor Summer.” Mina’s dark protuberant eyes met Shar’s over the last empty chair as her Chihuahua made an asthmatic heh heh heh sound. “There’s something on your jacket.”

Wolfie crawled under Shar’s chair as Shar looked down at her black jacket and picked off several gray hairs, possibly Wolfie’s, probably hers–

“Excuse me.” The little blonde-she couldn’t have been five foot tall-leaned closer to Shar, clicking the pen in her hand twice. “Do you know her?” she whispered, watching Mina. “Because she’s been giving me the crazy eye since I got here.”

“Mina? She’s a grad student here in the history department.”

“Is she always like that?”

Shar nodded. “She specializes in massacres and disasters. If somebody died horribly in history, Mina’s your woman.”

“So it’s not just me.” The blonde leaned back. “Sorry. This room is giving me the creeps and she’s not helping.”

“This room gives me the creeps, and I work in this building,” Shar said.

The blonde smiled at her. “I’m Daisy.” Her Jack Russell leaped again, high enough to meet Shar’s eyes for a nano-second, and Daisy stopped smiling. “And that’s Bailey.”

“Hi, Bailey,” Shar said as the Jack Russell leaped up eye-to-eye again.

“He’s not my dog. My mother developed an allergy, and I got temporary custody.” Daisy clicked her pen once again as she watched him. She looked down at Wolfie, peering out from under Shar’s chair. “Your dog seems really well-behaved.”

“Neither of us gets excited much.” Shar pulled the obedience course flyer out of her bag. “Do you know anything about Kammani Gula?” She pointed to the header on the paper: The Kammani Gula Dog Obedience Course: Learn to Communicate With Your Dog and Find Your Power.

“No,” Daisy said. “But if she keeps Bailey from peeing on my leather couch, I’ll sing her praises everywhere.”

The brown-haired girl with the Newfoundland on Daisy’s other side leaned in. “I want to know who she is, too. I found her name on some papers–”

“Papers?” Shar said, straightening. “Research papers? Something with citations?”

“No,” the girl said. “My grandmother’s papers.”

“Does your grandmother know–”

“She died two weeks ago,” the girl said.

“I’m sorry,” Shar said automatically.

“It’s okay,” the girl said. “I didn’t know her at all, but now she’s left me her coffee house–”

“Bea’s Coffee House?” Daisy clicked her pen, her attention off Bailey now.

“-and Kammani Gula’s name was on some of the papers so I thought I’d come to see what was up.” The girl looked at Daisy. “Yes, Bea’s Coffee House.”

Shar said, “Could I look at those papers?” just as Daisy said, “You’re my new landlady. I’ve got the front apartment on the second floor. Did you just move in to the back apartment, Bea’s old place?”

“I’m staying there for a couple of days,” the girl said, looking as if she wasn’t quite sure what to do with Daisy. Daisy clicked her pen twice, looking back at the brown-haired girl, then glanced down at her pen and smiled.

“Sorry,” she said. “Nervous habit.” And she tucked the pen in her purse.

Then a woman came out from behind the boxes on the platform, and Bailey stopped leaping, and the two teenagers stopped giggling, and everybody else sat a little straighter.

Uh oh, Shar thought, looking at her.

The woman was dark-haired and dark-eyed, full-bodied and wasp-waisted, radiating confidence and power, with a grace that made her flowing dress look elegant instead of costumey and her open-armed gesture of welcome compelling instead of stagy.

The woman on the platform took a step closer into the light and Shar drew in her breath.

Wolfie whined under Shar’s chair.

“I am Kammani-Gula,” the woman said. “Here in my temple, you will find your power.” She smiled at them all, gathering them to her and Shar did her best not to lean forward. “Tonight, you will begin to communicate with your faithful companions, those who serve you with unquestioning loyalty and devotion.” She looked at them all as if they were her faithful companions, and Shar realized that she’d leaned forward after all, and scooted back on her chair.

“Oh, he’s cute,” Daisy said under her breath, and Shar looked past Kammani to the dark-haired man behind her, loose-limbed and relaxed, leaning against the boxes with his arms folded where he smiled crookedly back at Daisy.

“How did you even see him with her standing there?” Shar whispered.

“Her who?” Daisy said, keeping her eyes on the guy.

“And now Noah will show you the Way,” Kammani declared.

“Fine by me,” Daisy said, and Kammani frowned at her.

Okay, enough of this. Shar raised her hand. “I just have one question–”

But Kammani had faded into the darkness behind the boxes.

“Yes?” Noah said to Shar as he came forward.

“Where did you find information on Kammani Gula?” Shar said, holding up the flyer again. “Could you give me the sources?”

Noah shrugged. “As far as I know, it’s Kammani’s real name.” He smiled on the group. “As Kammani said, tonight you’ll learn to communicate with your dogs. But before that-” He turned back to the boxes and picked up a tray with seven large plastic cups on it. “-we have some refreshment.”

Wolfie whined again, and Shar patted him and then straightened as Noah came around with the drinks. She took her cup and put it under her chair with Wolfie. He sniffed it once and then whined again. Don’t worry, Shar thought, looking around the storeroom again for Kammani. I’m not drinking anything she serves.

Noah moved on to give Mina her cup, and Shar stood and went quietly past the semi-circle of chairs and the box-filled platform into the darkness behind the altar where Kammani had disappeared. She had almost reached the back wall when Kammani spoke from behind her, making Wolfie yelp.

“You have left the others.”

“Yes.” Shar faced her in the shadows. “I need some information. Could you tell me where you found the name Kammani-Gula–”

“I am Kammani-Gula,” the woman said, a thrill in her voice. Then she frowned. “You have not drunk your tonic.”

“Tonic?” Shar looked back at the cup of punch under her chair. “I’m not thirsty. Look, I think it’s interesting-” Weird as hell. “-that you took the name of the goddess as your own, but what I need is the source–”

She stopped as the room seemed to go grow colder. Kammani was frowning at something behind her, and Shar turned and saw the two teenagers making kissing noises at two new little dogs Noah was bringing into the center of the circle. Kammani raised her hand, and the two dogs came daintily across the floor and into the darkness to her, leaving the two girls disappointed and Noah dogless. He walked over to Daisy.

“Mind if I demonstrate with Bailey?”

“It’s your funeral,” Daisy said, and handed him the leash.

Shar turned her attention back to Kammani.

“Okay. So what I need to know–” Shar said and then stopped again, distracted as the dogs joined them: even in the dim light, they looked like tiny tan giraffes with fluffy white pompom crowns and little grinning faces, one taller and more slender, the other one shorter with sharper, deeper, smarter eyes. “My god, those are Mesopotamian Temple Dogs. I thought they were extinct.”

“Bikka and Umma,” Kammani said. “They are at my side always, to serve me.”

Bikka and Umma smiled up at Shar, their bizarre little doggy faces alight with intelligence. Well, Umma’s was. Bikka’s bore a striking resemblance to Paris Hilton.

Wolfie grumbled.

“Right,” Shar said. “About Kammani Gula. I’m familiar with Gula, the goddess of healing whose sacred animal was the dog . . .” She looked down at the Temple Dogs again. “. . . but I can’t find anything about Kammani-Gula except for the first chapter of my mother’s book. Could you give me some sources for her?”

“Your mother is writing a book on the goddess?” Kammani said, tilting her head, looking more human now in her curiosity.

“Was,” Shar said. “I promised her I’d finish the citations–”

Kammani faded back into the darkness as Wolfie pressed close to Shar’s leg.

“Hello?” Shar squinted after her, annoyed, and then Kammani returned, holding another cup of whatever Noah had been passing out.

Kammani smiled. “This tonic is a recipe from my family. You will drink my family’s tonic, and I will show you Kammani-Gula for your family’s book.”

“I don’t think . . .”

Kammani’s face went cold and the temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees.

Okay, Shar thought and took the tonic. Holding wasn’t drinking, but maybe Kammani wouldn’t notice.

Kammani nodded once. “I will show you proof of Kammani-Gula and then you will return to Abby and Daisy.”

“Who?” Shar said.

“Bring your cup.” Kammani went to the altar again and came back with a flashlight.

Shar followed her to the center of the wall, and Kammani clicked the flashlight on.

A huge naked goddess sprang into sharp relief.

Wolfie barked, and Shar said, “Oh,” almost spilling her tonic.

“Kammani-Gula and her priestesses,” Kammani said, gesturing to the stone carving. “She inspires great passion in those who follow her. Can you not feel it?”

“I don’t do passion, it interferes with my research.” Shar took a couple steps back to see better, Wolfie still pressing close.

Kammani Gula was a large-eyed, full-breasted, tiny-waisted, winged woman standing on two Mesopotamian Temple Dogs, a whip in her left hand and a knife in her right.

“She’s . . . lovely . . .” Shar said. And armed.

Wolfie whined.

“The inscription is here.” Kammani pointed her flashlight at the cuneiform carved into the wall next to the figure, and Shar leaned closer, trying to remember enough to translate.

Kammani-Gula, Goddess of Love, Goddess of Life, Goddess of Healing.

Well, here was one source. Of course it was in a storeroom in college in Ohio, and it hadn’t been authenticated . . .

Shar frowned. “You know, I’ve been in this room several times, and I’ve never seen this bas relief. This place is always full of file boxes, but still, you’d think somebody would have showed it to me. My grandfather brought this temple back from Turkey, and he never mentioned it.”

“Your grandfather moved this temple,” Kammani said, her voice sounding odd.

Shar nodded. “It’s the only step temple in Ohio. We’re very proud. Look, what I really need–”

“You know nothing, then?” Kammani sounded distressed for the first time, and as her hand dropped, the beam from the light flashed onto the next figure.

Shar sucked in her breath.

The figure next to the goddess was male.

“You remember something?” Kammani said, sounding smug.

“No,” Shar said, staring at the man in the bas relief, tall and broad and–

Kammani sighed and moved the light back to the goddess. “You can see–”

“Give me that.” Shar took the flashlight from Kammani and focused it on the man again, taking in the curls like commas across his forehead, the hooded eyes that stared down at her, the square jaw, the broad shoulders, the slim hips, the massive calves . . .

Shar drank some tonic.

The taste flooded her mouth and filled her senses, biting and sweet, honey and cinnamon and something like the night sky, anise maybe, warm and rich and satisfying, and she sipped again, inhaling the scent, feeling the power of it go into her bones as she looked at the man.

He looked powerful. Skilled. Familiar . . .

She felt herself flush, and Wolfie whined at her feet and pressed closer.

“Passion,” Kammani whispered beside her, sounding amused.

“Who is he?”

“Samu-la-el. God of the Summer, King of Kamesh, Defender of the North, Slayer of Demons.” Kammani had evidently lost interest; she recited the titles as if she were saying, “Plumber of Sinks, Mower of Grass.” She took the light from Shar and moved it back to the goddess and began to talk about the glories of her namesake.

Slayer of demons. Shar took another drink and felt the heat flood her again, and then she saw the knife in the goddess’s hand and realized what it meant.

“He was a dying god-king. She sacrificed him.” She put her hand on Kammani’s and tried to put the light back on the god, but Kammani held firm.

“For the good of the people,” Kammani said, her voice calm. “A good king dies for his people, and then his goddess raises him again. He serves his goddess.”

Shar sipped her tonic again, trying to concentrate on Kammani Gula instead of the god. She had a book to finish, she had a promise to keep, she . . .

She ripped the flashlight out of Kammani’s grasp and put the light back on the god.

Samu-la-el. He was beautiful and Kammani Gula had killed him. Shar stared up into the hooded eyes, empty sockets now because the clay and stone imbedded for eyeballs were long gone. This was clearly a guy who kicked demon ass and took invader names. In cuneiform, of course, but still–

“Daisy and Abby are waiting for you,” Kammani said.

Shar drained her cup, letting the richness of the drink flood her, and then she put the cup on the floor and reached out to touch the cuneiform that spelled the god-king’s name. Samu-la-el. She let her fingers slip to trace the line of his side as it tapered to a flat belly, slim hips–

Wolfie barked, and she jerked her fingers away and turned to say something to distract Kammani from the fact that she’d been feeling up a stone god, but Kammani’s eyes were across the room where the two teenagers were now feeding one of the Temple Dogs something. She yanked the light out of Shar’s hand and turned it off. “Now you go join Abby and Daisy,” she said and walked off toward the teenagers, leaving Shar in the dark.

Wolfie growled, and Shar went back to the circle to sit down, dizzy with tonic and confusion, thinking Slayer of Demons as Noah talked about communicating with dogs.

“You know this punch stuff is good,” Daisy whispered when he’d finished his spiel.

“It’s tonic.” Shar patted Wolfie who was collapsed at her feet, hyperventilating from the stress.

“Well, I like it,” Daisy said. “So what’s the boss like? I saw you go back to talk to her.”

“Kammani?” Shar tried to find the words. “Confident. Controlling. Possibly insane.”

“That’s what I figured.” Daisy pointed at the cup under Shar’s chair. “Are you going to drink that? Because I’m out.”

“I’ll share,” Shar reached under her chair for the cup, suddenly ravenous for more of the stuff.

“It’s really good,” the brown-haired girl said.

Shar poured a third of her cup into Daisy’s and then held out her cup to the other girl. “Hi, I’m Shar.”

“I’m Abby.” She held out her cup and Shar poured another third in, and then lifted her cup with the last third in it, did a dull plastic clink with Abby and Daisy, and knocked it all back.

The stuff hit her hard, warm and exotic and–

“You will take more tonic with you,” Kammani said from behind them, and Shar started as Abby inhaled her tonic in surprise and coughed, and Daisy said, “Crap, you scared me.”

Kammani presented glazed ceramic bottles to them as if she were handing out treasure, and Shar took hers and said, “About those sources–”

“All will be explained when you return on Tuesday,” Kammani said and moved toward the back of the room again.

“What an interesting woman,” Daisy said, in a tone that said, Fruitcake, extra fruit.

Abby squinted at her ceramic glazed bottle. “This tonic is really good.”

“I don’t want to come back Tuesday,” Shar said, feeling annoyed.

“Are you okay?” Daisy said. “You seem a little upset.”

“I’m never upset,” Shar said, wishing she could kick somebody. “Abby, can I come by the coffee house and look at your grandmother’s papers?”

“Sure,” Abby said, and then Daisy straightened as Noah came around the circle with handouts.

“Here’s the class list with phone numbers,” He handed one to Shar while he smiled at Daisy.

“Thanks.” Shar stuck the paper and the bottle in her bag and stood up, catching sight of Kammani in the shadows at the back of the room.

She was watching them.

“I don’t like her,” Wolfie growled, and Shar patted him absentmindedly and said, “I don’t, either. Let’s go home.”

She waved to Abby and Daisy and let Wolfie pull her toward the door, only turning back at the last minute to look into the darkness where the god king was carved.

Slayer of Demons, she thought, and then Wolfie yanked on his leash and they started home.