I yank the fridge open and stick my head inside, waiting for the cool to chase off the heat burning through my veins. What the heck is wrong with this guy? He’s English, dang it. Shouldn’t he be the epitome of a gentleman? And isn’t it enough Marie and her friends are tormenting me at school? Does the universe really think I need a guy like Blaze embarrassing me at home?
“Princess?” Blaze’s husky voice echoes through the kitchen.
Great. Now you see why I don’t believe in gods? If there were some, they’d grant me a dang break.
I grab a six-pack of soda and slam the steel door shut. “What do you want?” I grumble, hardly able to hide the hostility in my voice.
He perches on the counter, half sitting, half standing. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you in there.”
I totally believe him—not. “Why are you here?”
“I was invited,” he says matter-of-factly.
I draw a deep breath. “No, Blaze.” I slam the soda onto the kitchen island. “Why are you really here?”
His gaze roams my face. He says nothing. Irritated, I grab the soda and am about to march back to the living room when he circles my arm and pulls me back. We’re so close I feel his heart beating under his tight black shirt. “Don’t just walk away from me,” he begs.
I’ve read about butterflies in the belly. Heard of hearts doing somersaults caused by a single touch. Up until now, I never thought stuff like that truly happened. I figured it was the invention of talented writers who spend their whole lives advocating real love exists. Oh, how wrong I was.
“You want to know why I’m here?”
I nod, because I doubt I’m able to speak.
His dimple comes out. “I’m here because of you.” He tilts his head to the side, giving me a better look at the tattoo on his jugular notch. It’s a flower. A rose the color of sand. “But you already knew that, didn’t you?”
He’s right. I did. It just doesn’t make any sense. “Why?”
He furrows his brows. “I beg your pardon?”
“Why would you want to be anywhere near me?” I clarify the question.
Blaze’s eyes widen. “Are you serious?” I just stare at him, and he continues. “Why wouldn’t I want to be anywhere near you?”
About a million reasons come to my mind. I opt for the most obvious one. “I’m not your type. In case you haven’t noticed, we play in very different leagues.” He’s Prince Charming, I’m the wicked stepsister. He’s the beauty, I’m the beast. He’s a god, I’m the Angel of Death. I could go on forever.
Something dark clouds his breathtaking eyes. His confident I-own-the-universe body language changes drastically. “Different league you say? Is that due to my looks, my bad-boy image, or the fact we met after I was arrested?”
“You think—” I laugh harder than I have in months.
The muscles in his jaw tense. He’s no longer the same guy who implied I have a dirty mind in front of all my friends. The guy across from me looks hurt and uncomfortable. “Glad you’re amused.”
Choking back the laughter, I sigh. “I’m not amused, Blaze. And when I said we play in different leagues, I didn’t mean I was better than you.”
He moves closer. My heart once again picks up speed. “Then what did you mean, princess?”
I could tell him the truth and watch him flee. If I were in my right mind, I would do exactly that. I should do that. But I’m not in my right mind, and I just can’t get myself to tell him who I really am. I have to give him something, though. “What if it’s not about you, Blaze? What if I’m the bad guy?”
It’s his turn to laugh his butt off. “Did you—” He can’t stop. “Jesus, did you just—” He presses his hands against his knees, taking a few deep breaths. “Okay.” He looks me in the eye. “Did you just give me the Edward Cullen speech?”
“The what?”
He cocks a brow. “Edward Cullen? Twilight? Stalking vampire douche?”
“I know who he is,” I grumble. “But I have no clue what the Edward Cullen speech is.” I’ve seen that movie a dozen times. Can’t recall having ever heard of such a thing.
Blaze’s lips curve up. “Remember that scene in the cafeteria where that Bella chick lays out her theories as to why the douche was able to stop the van with his bare hands?” I nod. “Then you should know what he said when she came up with all the hero theories.”
I rewind the scene in my head. When I get to the point where Edward asks Bella what would happen if he wasn’t the hero, but the bad guy, I’m hit by lightning. “I really did give you the Edward Cullen speech?”
“Yes, princess. You most certainly did.”
Can this get any more embarrassing? “Wait a minute.” I meet his gaze. “How many times have you seen that movie?” Izzy and I are hardcore fans. Yet I needed several moments to remember the scene.
Blaze scrubs his fingers through his ebony hair. “I have four sisters, princess.” He blows out a long breath. “And before you ask, yes, they are a major pain in the arse. And no, I never wished for brothers instead.”
Explains his Twilight expertise.
He grabs the sodas from the counter. “It’s official now.”
“What is?”
His smile makes a Fourth of July firework look dull. “We’re friends.”
“We are?”
“You’re one of the five people on this planet who knows about my Twilight misery.” Blaze rolls his shoulders back. “So, you’re either my friend, or I’ll have to silence you forever.”
I break into a lusty laughter. “You want to kill me?” Someone ought to tell him it would be the other way around.
He shakes his head. “Don’t be stupid, princess. I wouldn’t kill you.” He leans in, gawking at my lips. “There are other ways to silence someone.”
And then, as if nothing happened, he saunters back to the living room, leaving me behind in cardiac arrest.
Ancient + Egypt + Gods. That’s what I see when I look at the search bar of my browser. I entered the words myself, determined to spend my Sunday doing research for Mr. Thornton’s grotesque request of organizing this year’s Halloween Ball. All that’s left to do is hit enter. Easy, right? For me, it really isn’t. The country and its history are a part of who I am—I’m half Egyptian, half American, after all. My childhood has been shaped by the old myths. I adored its rich history once. Devoured every book I could get my hands on. But things changed the night my parents were murdered, the night I suffered from my first hallucinations and had my first encounter with Anubis and—
Don’t go there. You know what your shrink said, the voice in the back of my mind warns. “Don’t feed into the illusion, Nisha. Work through it.” Those were his exact words. Only, I never found a way to see beyond the thing my broken mind had conjured up. I’m not sure I ever will.
My index finger hovers over enter. I draw several deep breaths. You can do this, I assure myself. Just hit the dang key. Eventually, I do. One point seven million results pop up. The one on the very top of the page is a chart of Egyptian gods and goddesses.
Nekhbet: vulture goddess, sister of Wadjet.
Nut: goddess of sky and stars, wife of Geb.
Osiris: god of the afterlife, husband and brother of Isis, brother and mortal enemy of Seth, father to Horus and Anubis.
I’ve heard stories of all of them at one point or another. Two names, however, are especially familiar. Seth, the god my mom told me about. The one who was once human and fell in love with a goddess. And then, of course, Anubis. The creature I frequently hallucinated.
Tension creeps upon me. The muscles in my chest tighten. I lean back in my chair and take deep breaths, struggling to get a grip on the anxiety poisoning my system. When my left arm no longer hurts, I click the first result below the chart: Gods and Goddesses – Ancient Egypt.
I’m directed to a website with images of several gods. They’re in alphabetic order, putting Anubis at the very top. If I were smart, I’d s
tep away from my Mac and forget all about Mr. Thornton. But the truth is, this isn’t just about the Halloween Ball anymore. I’m curious, overcome by a longing to read on, to understand why my brain is conjuring up Anubis out of all the Egyptian gods. Maybe I can stop the hallucinations if I’m able to decipher the message my subconscious is aiming to send. Or maybe they get worse, and I end up in a loony bin. I guess we’ll find out in a minute which one it’ll be. I move the cursor of the mouse on Anubis’s image and click.
Anubis—Man With A Jackal Head.
Anubis is the god of the dead. He watches over the souls, guarding them in the Afterlife. He helped embalm Osiris after he was killed by Seth (see Osiris myth).
Guardian of all dead, huh? Well, I already knew that. And in a weird, totally insane way, it makes sense I see him every time someone dies. Yet it doesn’t explain why I’m suffering from hallucinations in the first place.
I reread the entry and decide to follow the “see Osiris myth” link.
On the top of the website is the scan of an old papyrus. It depicts a man with greenish skin and white clothes, sitting on a golden throne. He wears a tall white conical crown with ostrich feathers on each side. It’s been a while since Dad had lectured me on the meanings of the different crowns, worn by Egypt’s kings, but if I’m not mistaken, this one is called Atef—the crown of Upper Egypt. The god holds the crook and the flail—both symbols of authority—and gazes at a lotus flower. Four people are standing on the flower, looking straight ahead.
The longer I stare at the papyrus, the more captivated I am. Not sure how to explain it, but it’s almost as if I know these people. Kind of like I’m staring at a photograph of relatives I once met but forgot I had.
I scroll farther down.
The Osiris Myth:
After Chaos had overwhelmed Egypt, the great sun god Ra dubbed Osiris and Isis King and Queen of Egypt. They ruled the country with love and brought great prosperity to its people.
His brother Seth—god of the desert, slayer of Chaos—grew increasingly jealous. Believing himself to be the rightful ruler of Upper Egypt, he felt betrayed by Ra. Overwhelmed by hatred and jealousy, the god of the desert killed his brother Osiris, cutting his body in a million pieces and scattering the remains across all of Egypt.
Isis, Osiris’s sister-wife, searched for her husband’s remains and brought him back to life.
That’s an awful myth, and for those who have no clue about ancient Egyptian mythology, it must sound like a story of incest. I mean, sister-wife? Gross. But the term brother and sister didn’t just refer to siblings. According to my mom, the term was used to describe a deeper bond. Similar to today’s perception of soulmates. But as interesting as all of that is, it doesn’t help me solve the hallucination riddle. I’m all set to do some more research when someone knocks.
“Nisha?” Izzy stands in the doorframe. “Can I come in?” She’s not her usual cheerful self. Probably thinks I’m still pissed about last night and the fact she invited Blaze over without telling me.
“Sure.” I’m not really upset anymore. Truth be told, it was pretty awesome to have some company for a change. And Blaze? He wasn’t that bad either. After half an hour of talking me into playing Battlefield, he even let me win. Seeing Shaggy’s perplexed expression—a bookworm had done what the master gamer could not—was the highlight of my week.
She saunters to my bed. “Can we talk?” she asks, flinging herself onto the soft mattress.
I roll my desk-chair away from the screen and closer to the bed. “What’s up?”
“I’m sorry,” she blurts out. “I know I should have told you about Blaze. I just thought you wouldn’t show if I did. It was a mistake. Won’t happen again.” She bats her lashes at me, pleading with her eyes. “Can you stop being mad at me now?”
I look at her long and hard, my face expressionless. For as long as I can remember, Izzy and I have been more like sisters than cousins. We spent every free minute together, talking about boys, music, school, and everything else kids think is important in life. When people around me started to die, she didn’t abandon me. She stood up for me. I could never be mad at her. “Just give me a heads-up next time you invite him over, okay?”
Her eyes light up. “I will,” she cheers, throwing her arms around me. She hugs me so tight, I have a hard time breathing.
“You’re suffocating me,” I choke out.
“Sorry.” She lets go of me. “I’m just glad you don’t hate me.”
I pull my brows up. “You know I could never hate you.” In my seventeen years of life, I’ve had to face a lot of hostility. Marie and her friends are just one example of many. Yet I never felt anything close to hate for anyone. Except—
The thing that killed my parents.
The blurred memories of that night come back to haunt me. My mom’s screams thunder through my ears. I hear the BANG. See the glass shatter, and am faced with an ocean of crimson. I still feel the vicious fire burning through me that night, the rush of energy buzzing through my veins. I wanted to kill the bastard with my bare hands. Rip his ugly head right off his spine.
“Hey.” She squeezes my hand. “Are you okay?”
I don’t need serotonin or endorphins to put a smile on my face. My brain is perfectly capable of commanding my lips to curve up anytime I need to fake it. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
Knowing my cousin, I’m certain she could come up with a dozen reasons. But for once, Izzy gives me a break. “What are you up to?” she asks, pointing at my computer screen.
Right. I never got the chance to fill her in on Mr. Thornton’s absurd idea. “Mr. Thornton wants me to organize this year’s Halloween Ball.”
Her eyes almost pop. “He what?”
I tell her everything Mr. Thornton said about college and reluctantly mention the theme. She stares at me with disbelief. “He used college to blackmail you into doing his bidding?”
“Blackmail is a strong word, Izz.” One I used myself. Gee, I don’t know why I need to defend him, but I do. “He just said it would enhance my chance.”
Izzy purses her lips. “Please tell me you won’t do it.”
I’m a bit surprised. Isn’t she the one who keeps preaching me to get a life beyond the bookstore and my room? “Are you sick?”
She rolls her eyes in typical dramatic Izzy fashion. “Look, I want you to go out and have fun, but I don’t think you should get involved in that. The theme is just too—” She’s struggling to find the right words. “I just think it’s too early to expose yourself to Egypt again.”
My gaze skirts to the screen. I didn’t break down when I read through the stuff. She could be right though. What if I’m not ready to face those demons yet? What if I lose it completely? What if I end up in an asylum?
“Nisha?”
I return my attention to her. “I’ll think about it.” He wants an answer Wednesday, not tomorrow.
Izzy shifts to the edge of my bed. Elbows pressed against her thighs, she stares at the floor. I don’t like that at all. And when she pulls her mouth to one side, I realize trouble is headed my way. “There’s something else I have to tell you.”
My pulse jackknifes against my neck. “That bad?”
She shrugs one shoulder, still not looking me in the eye. “It’s about Mole.”
The blood drains from my face. “Is he okay?”
“Yes,” she mutters, realizing what I must be thinking. “In fact, he’s more than just okay.”
Sometimes I don’t understand my cousin. If he’s more than just okay, then why does she look like the world is about to end? “Izzy,” I snort. “What’s the matter?”
She looks up. “Oz said he’ll be back at school tomorrow.”
And just like that, Izzy’s odd reaction makes total sense. Up until now, I only had to deal with Marie and the Heathers. Tomorrow, I’ll be facing Mole’s wrath, and judging by the hate his father has for me, I’m going to go out on a limb and say it’ll be epic.
“I’m s
orry,” she whispers.
I fake another smile. It barely reaches my eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous. First of all, it’s not your fault. Second, I’m happy he’s better.” I just dread running into him, that’s all.
She hugs me again. This time with greater care. “You don’t have to face him alone. We’re here for you.”
“I know,” I assure her. They always have been.
I look at the desert rose in my palm. It’s small and fragile, yet it weighs down my arm as if I carry the weight of the world in the palm of my hand.
“You belong to me,” he says. I don’t need to see his face. I know it’s him. The conqueror. He’s been haunting my dreams forever and a day.
The sand takes ahold of me, pulling me down into the cold darkness. “What do you want from me? Why are you doing this to me?”
“Because I love you,” he whispers. “I always have, and I always will, my love.”
I’m dreaming. I know I am. I will my eyes open, but it doesn’t work. It never works. Something in this foreign world holds me captive. And it’s not just the sand and the conqueror. It’s a part of me, too. The part that knows it belongs here, belongs with him.
“Nisha.” My mom’s voice echoes through the eerie darkness of the desert. “Run! You have to run.”
I search for her. “Mom, what is happening?”
The sand vanishes. The rose withers. Slices of silvery moonlight float through the blackness. I’m no longer in the desert. The scenery has changed.
I’m running down the stairs, through the hallway, to my dad’s office. The door is ajar. I spot my mom’s terrified face. She’s kneeling on the floor, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Run,” she screams when she sees me.
I can’t run. Instead, I kick the door open farther. My dad is lying on his back a few feet away, his chest covered with blood. “Oh my—”
“Run,” Mom shouts again.
In my peripheral, I spot a pair of black boots. My gaze drifts higher. Garnet eyes stare back at me. Sharp teeth reflect the silvery light of the moon.
Book of Souls (Gods of Egypt 1) Page 8
