Fingers trembling, I take the pendant. A jolt of electricity rushes through my hand as my skin connects with the cold metal. “There is no god but Seth,” I read. “I am the messenger of Seth.”
Petrified, I drop the pendant, stumbling backward. What the heck is happening here? And why does a guy who killed my boss and tried to do the same to Blaze wear a pendant with Seth’s name on it? He’s just a hallucination. He’s not real.
Or is he?
“Nisha.” Blaze pulls me closer. “Are you okay?”
I’m as far from okay as anyone can be. “Call the cops.” I’ll tell them everything. Even at the risk of ending up in the loony bin.
Blaze pulls his phone out and keys in 9-1-1.
BANG.
A gunshot rings through the air.
A body drops.
Anubis gets to claim his soul.
In movies, a gunshot is proceeded by deadly silence and a cut to the next scene. I’ll let you in on a little secret, that’s a whole lot of bull. Writers use stillness to emphasize the loss, to create more drama. In real life, a gun fired in close proximity isn’t accompanied by quiet. It leaves a nasty ringing in your ears and unbearable pressure on your brain. There’s no camera cut. No next scene. Instead, you’re faced with the consequences of what just happened. A gaping hole between brows. A whole lot of crimson, seeping into the hardwood floor. Glazed, wide-open eyes—a clear sign he was dead before he hit the ground.
Anubis approaches the corpse. Numb, I watch as the god wields his golden staff over the lifeless body. Black smoke rises out of the dead man’s chest, merging with the jackal-head sitting on top of the staff. I’d say I’m hallucinating, but after everything I’ve seen today, I’m pretty sure this is real. In a matter of seconds, the smoke is completely gone. Anubis meets my gaze, bows to me, and then, vanishes into thin air.
It’s only now I realize Blaze is standing in front of me like a human shield, guarding me from the killer—a guy whose face is wrapped with a black scarf, showing only his dark eyes. “Who the fuck are you?” he demands to know, murder on his face.
The guy who just shot Soldier-Creature calmly pulls his scarf down and shoves his pistol into his waistband. He’s about forty, has midnight hair, black eyes, and his edgy face somehow looks familiar, but I can’t place it.
Blaze doesn’t appreciate the guy’s tranquil assassin attitude. “I won’t ask again, mate. Who are you?” He sounds less rock star and more heavy-metal front man. I don’t blame him. Within the past thirty minutes, he shared his darkest secret with me, got lost in a kiss, walked into a murder scene, and had a gun pointed at his head. He’s doing well, considering any sane person would have already lost it.
Scarf-Guy gives him the cold shoulder. “Princess,” he addresses me, bowing low. “I need you to come with me.”
Why the heck is everyone bowing and calling me that? And what in the name of rationality makes this guy think I’d go anywhere with him? He just shot a guy in the face, for crying out loud. Granted, the guy he killed was a monster, and while Blaze and I were busy examining the pendant, he somehow got his hands on the gun and was pointing it at Blaze when Scarf-Guy blew his brains out—but still.
He moves a little closer. “Stop,” Blaze warns, drawing to his full height. “Don’t even think about—”
“Relax,” Scarf-Guy says, scrubbing a hand over his stubbles. “I’m not here to hurt her.”
Blaze narrows his eyes. “You just killed a guy in cold blood. Excuse me if I don’t take your word for it, mate.”
The lines on Scarf-Guy’s forehead deepen. He looks a bit offended. “I killed a monster who was seconds away from painting the walls with your blood, mate. I think I’ve earned the benefit of the doubt, don’t you?”
“You earned shit,” Blaze hisses.
Scarf-Guy rolls his eyes, clearly annoyed by Blaze’s behavior. “Any other day I’d be impressed by your balls, but we don’t have time for your Leonidas act, son.” He shifts his head to the left, ogling me. “I’m serious, Princess. We have to go.”
“Are you deaf?” Blaze snorts, close to bashing the guy’s head in. “I said Nisha isn’t going anywhere with you.”
Totally unfazed by the raging MMA champion, Scarf-Guy points to the corpse of Soldier-Creature. “It’s only a matter of time until more of his kind show, and my men won’t be here for another hour. Please”—he meets my gaze—“you have to trust me, Princess.”
I think Scarf-Guy is confusing this situation with a Black Friday deal—slaughter one, get Nisha’s trust for free. Sorry, that isn’t how trust works. You don’t just go around giving it away like a dang Christmas present. It needs to be earned. So, if he wants me to come with, I need a few answers first. “Who are you?”
He eyeballs the door. “My name is Asim.”
Why does that sound so familiar? Asim…Asim…Asim…Oh my gosh, I know. “You’re Amara’s brother, aren’t you?” That’s why he seemed so familiar. I met him when I was a kid. He’d flown in from Cairo the same day my grandmother had visited. The day the man had dropped dead in my lap at the airport. I remember Dad offering him a ride when he’d heard he was Amara’s brother. We sat in the back of the car, playing Battleship.
His gaze skirts to Amara’s mutilated corpse. “I was,” he says, quickly looking away from the gruesome scene.
My head reels. “What are you doing here?” Last thing I heard he was teaching Egyptology at the University of Cairo.
“I’m here to take you to a safe place, Princess.” He glares at the door. “And we must leave, now.”
“For all I care, you could be Jesus.” Blaze crosses his arms. “You’re still not taking her.”
Asim cocks a brow. “Do you really think you can stop me?”
“We’ll just have to see,” Blaze says, flashing him a devilish smile.
Asim gets in Blaze’s face. “I guess we will,” he grumbles, balling his fists at his sides.
Amara is dead, my night terrors are coming true, Soldier-Creature has a bullet between his eyes, and these two think it’s okay to engage in a testosterone battle, making decisions over my head? Sorry, not happening. “Enough,” I shout, stepping between them.
“You don’t understand,” Asim starts.
This is all too much. The frustration building up inside me burns through my veins, igniting a wildfire in the pit of my stomach. “Dang right, I don’t.” I point to Amara. “I have no clue why my boss has been brutally tortured and killed, or why”—I tilt my chin at dead Soldier-Creature—“some dude lured me here with text messages, pretending to be your sister.” The energy buzzing through me amplifies by the second. “Gee, I don’t even understand why the heck everyone is calling me princess. But—”
“Nisha,” Blaze hisses, jaw hanging loosely. “You—”
My head snaps his way. “I’m not done yet.”
He steps back. “Your…”
“My what?” I bark, unable to control the heat intoxicating my system.
He swallows hard. “Your eyes.”
Seriously? He wants to talk about my eyes now?
“They’re glowing,” he says.
I’m so not up for English humor. “If this is some stupid joke—”
“It’s not.” He grabs me by the shoulders, yanking me in front of a small mirror hanging on the wall next to the door. “Look for yourself.”
I’m fairly certain Blaze has lost his mind. Glowing eyes? That’s insane, even by my standards. He’d read One Thousand and One Nights, right? Who knows, maybe he devoured Jennifer L. Armentrout’s Lux series too and is confusing me with a Luxen alien?
“Look,” he whispers, lifting my chin.
A pair of creepy, neon green eyes gazes back at me. The color is so vibrant, the most beautiful emerald couldn’t capture its tone. “What the—” I stumble backward, knocking into the door. Sharp pain jolts through my elbow. I’m too terrified of myself to care. “What is happening to me?”
Blaze rubs his hands down my arm
s. “It’s okay, princess. You’ll be okay.”
Okay? My eyes are radiating, for crying out loud. I felt like a freak before, but this…this is a trip to Halloweentown with a diversion through Hogwarts. A gazillion emotions rush through me—fear, panic, anger—too many to keep track of them. The weird energy grows stronger, shaking my body like a dang earthquake.
Asim’s eyes widen. “Princess,” he says as the ground trembles with me.
Lava courses through me, melting everything in its path. The building shudders—walls crack, the mirror shatters. Blaze and Asim cover their heads, protecting themselves from debris falling down the ceiling.
Stop it, a voice whispers inside me.
Chunks of plaster land on the floor next to Asim’s feet.
“What the hell is happening,” Blaze yells.
“The wrath of the goddess,” Asim shouts, arms above his head. “She’ll destroy everything if she doesn’t calm down.”
I can hear every word they’re saying, can see the terror and panic on their faces. Yet I can’t seem to stop myself. Every feeling I’ve shoved down in the past months wants to be freed. It’s like I’m standing in the center of a tornado, watching as it wreaks havoc around me.
Blaze moves toward me. Unlike Asim, he’s not scared of me, but for me. “Nisha,” he says, reaching for my hand. “Look at me.”
“Run,” I yell at him, terrified of what I might do to him.
He shakes his head. “No.” He laces his fingers through mine. “I won’t leave you, princess.”
The second I hear the words, my vision blurs. Amara’s office fades into oblivion, and I’m standing in—
The Hall of Eternal Life.
I’m lying in Seth’s arms, weakened by the snake’s poison.
Blaze—the Medjay—is behind me. His skin blazes off his flesh, exposing his bones. “You must leave,” I urge him as the toxin of the primeval waters robs me of my life.
“No,” he says, reaching for the dagger next to Seth. “I won’t leave you, Princess.” He pushes the dagger through Seth’s back and into his heart. Then, he drops to his knees.
My gaze skirts from Blaze to Seth. “We belong together,” Seth whispers, exhaling his last breath. “I will find you again, love.”
I have brought death and banishment upon the man I love. I shall not bring the same upon the Medjay. I summon every bit of energy still left and rest my hand on Blaze’s chest. “May you live again,” I whisper.
Blaze wraps his arms around me. “I’m here,” he says over and over. His voice has a soothing ring to it, and the harder I focus on the husky sound, the cooler I get. “It’s okay, Nisha. You’ll be okay. Trust me.”
The energy withdraws from my fingers, crawling back to the pit of my stomach like a scared rattlesnake. My knees give in. Blaze catches me before I fall. “I’ve got you.”
Blaze’s warm and comforting breath beats against the nape of my neck. Eyes closed, I’m leaning against his sharply defined chest, losing myself in the safety of his arms. He’s like a rock in the midst of a stormy sea, unwavering and solid to the core.
“We have to go,” Asim urges, as if nothing else matters.
Blaze’s muscles flex. “You might want to take it easy, mate.” What he really means is: shut up before she causes another dang quake.
I gather my chi. When I’m absolutely certain I’m no longer overpowered by whatever coursed through my veins, I open my eyes. The room resembles the sight of an explosion. Destruction wherever you look. “Did I do this?” Deep down I already know, but I need confirmation.
Blaze kisses my hair. “Maybe we should talk about that later.”
Staying calm is my new top priority. “No,” I say gently. “I need to know what just happened.”
Blaze nods understandingly.
My gaze darts to Asim. “Tell me,” I order.
“Yes, you did,” is his simple reply.
“How?” I ask.
Asim draws a long, exhausted breath. “You were angry,” he explains, pointing at the destruction around us.
Obviously, but normal people don’t cause a dang earthquake when they’re mad. “You’re saying I did that”—I scan the cracked walls, the shattered mirror—“because I was pissed?”
Asim keeps some distance between us, as if he thinks I’m about to go off again. “I’m saying you did this because you haven’t learned how to control your powers yet.”
“What powers?” I’m glad Blaze asks. I’m too tired for a game of hundred questions.
Asim runs his hand through his dusty hair. “The powers of the goddess.” He meets my gaze. “The powers of Nebt-Het.” He makes it sound as if there were two different people living inside me. Not crazy at all, right?
I feel the heat resurfacing and immediately shove it back down. “Are you really expecting me to buy this?”
“It’s true,” he defends his madness. “You are the incarnation of Nebt-Het, youngest daughter of Geb and Nut, Goddess of Protection, and Princess of all Egypt.”
That would explain the whole princess thing, but I’m still pretty sure Asim needs to see my old shrink. Why? Look around. Maybe—
No. I’m no incarnation of whoever. I don’t even believe in that rebirth crap. I’m Nisha Blake, only daughter of Adam and Aaliyah Blake, Angel of Death, and princess only to Blaze and my mom.
But am I sure about that? This wasn’t the first time the ground had shaken when I was in emotional distress.
Bullshit. I push the memories of the night at the Shed away, refusing to accept I’m that Nebt-Het chick. “You’ve got the wrong girl,” I assure Asim. “I’m no goddess.” Gods don’t exist. They are fairytales for grown-ups and fables for children. Nothing more.
Asim sighs. “So, you never saw Anubis?”
“I—”
“You don’t dream about Seth?”
How does he know? I never told anyone, except Blaze and my shrink. “My mind is broken, okay? I see a lot of things that aren’t there. It’s called hallucination.”
The ghost of a smile plays over Asim’s face. “Your mind is just fine, Princess. It’s your soul that needs fixing.”
Blaze has had enough. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Asim locks his eyes on mine. “We have guarded you for centuries, watched every incarnation of you battle her demons. Despite so many lives, so many new beginnings and chances, you’ve never gotten over what you did to Seth.”
I’m back at the river, gazing into Seth’s garnet eyes. Did I kill him? Were all of the things I saw memories of a long-forgotten past? Impossible. Then why does a part of me know it’s the truth? Why is my soul inclined to believe Asim’s madness?
“When you sacrificed your lover to save humanity from Chaos,” Asim goes on, “part of you died with him, Princess. And though the remaining gods of the Ennead preserved you by gifting you rebirth as a human, you never fully lived.”
I can’t speak. Can’t move. Heck, I’m not sure I’m still able to feel anything other than torturous guilt. Blaze, on the other hand, is still very capable of moving his lips. “Am I the only one who understands jack?” When none of us objects, he frowns. “Okay, who is Seth? What do you mean she sacrificed herself? And are we really supposed to buy this rebirth crap?” At least someone hasn’t lost all his marbles yet.
“Before he was killed,” Asim explains. “Seth was the Lord of the Desert, God of Storm, and conqueror of Apep. But after his soul was banished, he became the Ruler of the Underworld, the Commander of the Army of Undead, and the Bringer of Chaos.”
“Undead?” Blaze laughs. “Wait, are we talking Shaun of the Dead undead, or Twilight undead?” He obviously hasn’t lost his humor.
Asim slowly approaches us. “We’re talking end-of-days undead, son.” He’s serious.
So serious, Blaze immediately stops laughing. “You really believe that, don’t you?”
“How can you not?” he shoots back. “You’ve seen what she’s capable of.” His gaze darts to Sold
ier-Creature’s corpse. “And you’ve been face to face with one of Seth’s soldiers.”
“He doesn’t look undead to me,” Blaze argues, clinging to his sanity.
Asim’s shoulders drop. “That’s because he wasn’t undead yet. But he is now.”
Okay, now he lost me. “Can you drop the CIA act and start talking in full, comprehensible sentences? Preferably, starting at the beginning?”
“See that?” Asim asks, referring to the small black flag embroidered on the dead man’s vest. Blaze and I both nod. “That’s the symbol of the Black Flags.”
The what?
Blaze is less clueless than me. “You mean the Islamic terror group?” When Blaze catches a glimpse of my confused expression, he explains, “European politicians are freaking out about them, called them the next Al-Qaeda. They invaded villages in Egypt a couple years back, killed most adults, and abducted the kids. Even beheaded some of our soldiers in front of cameras.”
I sure missed a lot of news. Never heard of any of that.
“They claimed responsibility for the attack on the British Museum recently,” he adds, jogging my memory.
Now that does actually ring a bell. I’ve watched the CNN coverage a dozen times, terrified Amara’s name might flicker across the screen. “Okay, so what’s an Islamic terror group got to do with Seth, and why is this guy undead now that he’s actually dead?” Gee, if someone eavesdrops, they’ll call the loony bin.
Asim rips the flag off the vest and studies it closely. “They aren’t really an Islamic terror group, Princess. They only want people to believe they are. And he’s undead now because I killed him and sent his soul to the underworld, where he will join Seth and become a part of his undead army, opposed to his living army.”
A pounding pain roars through my head. According to Asim, the guy was one of Seth’s soldiers, who’s undead now that he’s dead, and while he pretends to be a terrorist, he’s really not? See how none of this makes any sense? “Okay, so if they’re not really a terror group, then what are they?” I’m tired of getting pieces of an unsolvable jigsaw.
Book of Souls (Gods of Egypt 1) Page 25
