Ash stopped at the pond. Gazing into it, he tried to see past the reflections of the fireworks into its dark depths. He needed stillness. He needed Horus. He breathed in, then out, trying to match the stillness of the water. “Help me,” he whispered. “Guide me.”
Then he returned to the north gate and strode inside. He spotted the guard lying on the ground in the dimness, stepped over him, and continued on.
When he was about halfway through the gopura, three narrow beams of intense light struck him, momentarily blinding him. He blinked rapidly until he could see the three figures wielding the flashlights.
His father. His mother.
Hugh.
Ash struggled to hold on to the stillness. He’d been expecting his parents; M had said they were here. Hugh’s presence threw him. Horus is with me, he thought. Everything I do, everything I did, was for my god. Even betraying my oldest friend.
“I should have known it would be you,” his father spat, his first words to Ash after years apart. For as long as he could remember, he’d felt the man’s disgust. And still his father’s hatred was like a fist to the gut.
“I don’t know what you mean,” Ash replied, pleased to hear his voice coming out flat and calm. The last thing he wanted was for his father to know the effect he’d had.
“You know perfectly well. You’re trying to find the sacred body and keep it from us,” his father shot back. He tightened his grip on the small metal suitcase he held.
“You’re right. I am here to find one of the Set pieces,” Ash said, feeling a strange freedom in finally telling the truth without apology. “And yes, I plan to keep it from you.” His eyes bore into his father’s. This man was no longer in charge of him. “I won’t let you obliterate the earth by allowing the God of Darkness to become incarnate.”
“Blasphemy,” his mother hissed. Ash finally allowed himself to look at her. His mother’s face was pale except for two vivid splotches of red on her cheeks, and her eyes glittered with a zealot’s fervor and revulsion for him, her only child.
Ash struggled to come up with a response. Some small part of himself still wanted to make her see, make her understand he wasn’t evil, that he was using the powers granted to him to do good.
Before he could find the words, Hugh was on him, shoving him backward. “Traitor!” he shouted. “I was happy to see you when you came back. I believed you when you said you were ready to return to Set. I used my influence with the Asim to convince him you were repentant.”
“I’m sorry I lied to you—”
“You said the magic had ruined your life! You said you were done using that filthy power.” Hugh shoved Ash again, slamming him against the granite wall. Ash didn’t fight back. Hugh had been a true friend to him always, and he’d done everything possible to make Ash’s return to Set easy. He had a right to feel betrayed.
“I didn’t want to lie to you. You were the only one with Set I cared about,” Ash said. “But I had no choice.”
“Stop!” his mother cried. “Not one more word.” Ash and Hugh both turned to her. “I can’t listen to you justify what you’ve done. You don’t care about anything. Not your oldest friend. Not your family.” Her voice caught. “We were right to send you away. Your magic is profane, and it corrupted you from the moment you were born. I hate that I brought you into the world.”
Ash had heard this his whole life, how he was tainted, contaminated, evil, bringing shame and dishonor to his parents. How the power from Horus was disgusting, a source of humiliation to them, something that made the other Set devotees mistrust them.
The anger he’d worked so long to banish overcame him, stunning him with its strength. With his back braced against the wall, he kicked out both legs, smashing his feet into Hugh’s chest. Hugh went down and Ash ran. He needed to get them out of the gopura. And he felt as if he’d burst into flame if he allowed himself to stay in their presence another second.
Before he reached the door, he heard footsteps behind him. Ash put on speed, racing around the pond and past the shrine where he knew M was waiting. The farther he lured them from the north gopura, the better.
The sound of drums, trumpets, and cymbals grew louder as he ran alongside the lower wall that surrounded the inner temple. Ash tried to head in the direction of the music. There would be a crowd where he could lose the Set acolytes. It was easier to think of them that way, as acolytes, and nothing more. If he disappeared into a mass of people, they’d have to hunt for him, giving M time. Right now he could still hear them close behind him.
As he wheeled around a curve he saw a line of about fifteen elephants moving through the temple grounds. Men with drums walked beside them, and several men with umbrellas were positioned next to each animal. Ash slipped between two of the drummers and squeezed between two of the immense beasts, putting the procession between him and his pursuers. Muttering an apology, he lay one hand on the closest elephant’s warm, wrinkled hide and released a small jolt of power, just enough to startle but not hurt it.
The elephant jerked its head up and down, its ears slapping against its body with a thunderous clap. The elephant in front let out a sound that was more roar than the usual trumpeting. Another whipped its trunk to the side, hitting one of the drummers and knocking him off his feet. The elephants’ handlers began to shout. The drummers scattered.
Ash ran. He ran until his lungs burned and his legs cramped. As long as he kept moving, they would be coming for him, and M would be safe. Finally, he slowed to a walk, gasping for air. The sky had gone completely dark since he and M entered the temple, and he would be harder to see. The number of men dressed almost identically to him would also help.
He let half an hour pass before taking a circuitous route back to the east gate, constantly checking to make sure he wasn’t followed. Had they given up? It was unlikely. Even after the Asim had allowed him back into the Set cult, his parents had never acknowledged him. They’d been off with M by then, but still, there had been no calls, no emails, nothing to welcome him home to the community he’d been raised in. Nothing to apologize for trying to beat the power of Horus out of him as a child. Nothing to say they’d forgiven him for being a heretic from the moment of his birth.
He hadn’t let himself dwell on their coldness. He was there for Horus. His parents were right. He was a heretic to his birthright. He’d been born to Set, but his gift had come from Horus.
Ash hid under the branches of a huge banyan tree and waited, trying to absorb its peace. This place felt sacred, just as the pond had. Although the temple was dedicated to gods he didn’t believe in, somehow he felt closer to his own god here.
His years of training with Philip kicked in, and his breathing slowed. Soon he was able to return to the state of calm readiness that was his constant as a worshipper of Horus. The chaos and frenzy of the celebration dulled around the edges, fading as he focused his attention on spotting M. As soon as she appeared, he had to get her out of there.
His eyes moved in even sweeps from side to side. He wasn’t sure if she would come from the north or take a less direct route. Occasionally a woman of M’s size in a full sari or a head covering that matched hers would approach the gate, but he dismissed them immediately. It was as if he were attuned to her frequency after being constantly near her.
His heart lurched when he saw her. She was full-on running—and his father, mother, and Hugh were closing in. At some point they must have decided to go back to the north gopura. He should have known. He should have gone back to M once he’d lost them.
Ash sprang out of his hiding place and reached M in seconds. He grabbed her arm and helped propel her to the gate and all the way through.
“Let her go,” he heard his father yell close behind them. “You can’t—”
The sound of a detonation obliterated the rest of his words, louder than the nearly continuous fireworks, louder than the dozens of drums, than the roar of the crowd.
He twisted to see what had happened. His father was gripp
ing the metal suitcase with both hands, and Ash could see the tendons in his arms straining. The sound came again, like a grenade, and it was as if an iron fist had punched the suitcase from the inside, causing it to protrude. When another explosion came, something shiny and black burst partway out of the case.
“It’s a piece of the Set animal!” M cried. He could barely hear her. His ears were throbbing, even his joints were vibrating in the aftermath of the last blast.
His father, mother, and Hugh all leapt for the suitcase, using their bodies to press it to the ground and keep the Set piece inside. Ash tore his eyes away. This was their chance. “Come on!” He grabbed M’s arm again.
“Memphis!” His mother’s shriek cut through the noise.
M turned toward her, one hand reaching for her bo staff.
His mother moved apart from the others, letting them fight to keep the piece in the briefcase. Her face twisted in a sneer as she spoke. “We have your father.”
M hurled herself toward his mother, but Ash grabbed her around the waist, holding her back. “We have to get away. Now,” he barked.
His mother’s eyes met his, then moved back to M. “I’ll give you a week to come to your senses,” she called as he dragged M away. “One week for you to bring me that piece of the Sacred Body. Or else I start taking pieces of your father instead.”
M turned into a wild animal, legs pumping, fists clenched, fighting to get to his mother. He tightened his arms around her and half pulled, half carried her into the crowd, forcing his way between the bodies until the mass of people thinned and he could deal with M.
“I’ll kill her,” M snarled.
“No, she’ll kill you. And me. And your father,” he yelled, pulling her to face him. And with the pieces of Set, they’ll kill everyone else, too, he thought.
“Let me go!” She was sobbing.
“No. It’s not safe.”
She kept fighting, twisting to get away from him as tears streaked down her cheeks. From rage or fear, he couldn’t tell. “Let go.”
“No.” Not knowing what else to do, he wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight. “We have to get away, they probably already called for backup. We’ll figure out what to do. I promise,” he said into her hair.
She became quiet. Then she pulled in a deep breath, stepped back, and wiped her eyes. “Okay. Let’s go.”
She sounded completely normal, as if the past few minutes hadn’t happened at all. He’d never met anyone so self-controlled in his life—he had to call upon Horus to help him find stillness, and she’d done it in about thirty seconds.
“Motorcycle!” M pointed over his shoulder.
Ash ran over to the guy smoking a cigarette next to the bike. He thrust a wad of cash at the man. Without asking if they had a deal, he yanked off the dhoti tied around his waist and jumped on. M shimmied out of her sari and climbed on behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist. A second later, they sped off. He couldn’t go as fast as he wanted, not on the crowded streets, but he headed toward the mountains. As soon as he found a dirt road, they’d be gone, and he was never going to let the cult of Set find them again.
CHAPTER 15
M climbed off the bike and used both hands to comb her fingers through her wind-tangled hair. Don’t think about Liza, she told herself. Don’t think about Dad. Focus on getting out of India.
“They’re going to be checking the airports,” Ash said. His T-shirt was still jammed in his pocket, so he pulled it on. “Maybe we can buy tickets for multiple flights from different airports. That would slow them down. Where are we going, by the way?”
“London,” M told him. “Somewhere in London. We’re going to have to work the rest of the glyphs to figure out the exact place.”
Ash nodded, taking out his cell. “I’ll start booking flights.”
“Wait. I got this.” She called up Joel’s number and typed in a text. She should’ve thought of this earlier. Focus, M, focus, she thought.
“Mike again?” Ash complained. “Does he moonlight as a travel agent?”
At first M hadn’t wanted to tell Ash anything about Mike because she didn’t trust him. But now she kind of enjoyed the little jealous spark he seemed to get whenever the subject came up.
“Mike is multitalented,” she drawled. “But no. I’m texting a guy who pilots a private jet. My dad and I would hitch rides with him sometimes when he had an empty leg.”
Ash raised his eyebrows. “You think this guy just happened to recently drop off clients at Kerala International and also just happens to be flying empty to London for his next pickup?”
M glanced up at him, surprised. She was the one whose family had just been threatened, but he sounded more on edge than she was. “No,” M said. “But Joel knows a ton of pilots. One of them might know somebody who knows somebody who can get us out of here.” She glanced at her cell. “He says he’s on it.” She glanced over at two huge glassed-in tubes that formed the airport terminal. She was thirsty. They’d been running for half the night. “I would kill for an iced latte, or, actually, anything caffeinated. But I guess going in probably isn’t a good idea.”
“Probably not,” Ash agreed. “But I’d almost risk it for a beer.”
“It’s not even six a.m.,” M said.
“And?” Ash said.
“It’s not even six a.m.,” M said.
“You clearly don’t go to the right kind of parties.” Ash grinned tiredly, and again M saw a flash of who he must have been before Horus. When he was just the arty guy who hung out with Baptiste in Paris.
M plopped down next to the motorcycle, and Ash dropped down next to her.
“Bob and Liza. Those people. Those were my guardians, and they’re here. They’re—” She struggled to come up with an appropriate word, then gave up. “Liza wouldn’t even watch The Walking Dead. Too violent, she said. She used to make my lunch sometimes, even though I kept telling her I’d just buy it. And he’d ask about homework.”
Ash rubbed at a streak of dirt on the back of one hand. “Were you … did you feel close to them?”
“No. They tried. But my dad had just died. I thought he had just died,” she corrected. “And I didn’t want to talk about it with strangers. After a while, we kept it to surface stuff. What movie should we stream? Please pass the salt. Need any help with physics? That kind of thing. Sometimes they tried to push it further, but mostly they seemed to accept that I didn’t want anything more.”
“Sounds lonely.” Ash looked over at her.
“It would have been lonely anywhere those first months without my dad,” M said. “He was my person, the one who just got me. I have friends and all. But ever since my mom died, it was just me and Dad.” Her eyes brimmed with tears. She blinked them away. Bad enough she’d let herself freak out instead of just kicking Liza’s ass. She didn’t need to be blubbering.
Ash returned to rubbing his hand, though the streak of dirt was gone. Was he thinking about his own parents?
“Sorry. I know your father—”
Ash put his hand on her wrist, stopping her. “Don’t apologize. It’s not like it would make me happy if you had a family as fucked up as mine.” He slid his hand away.
M sat up straighter. So much had happened in the last few hours that she wasn’t thinking clearly. “Did you know the Set people already had a piece of the artifact?”
“Yes,” Ash said. “They’ve had it for thousands of years. Nobody even knows exactly where they found it anymore. The mouth of Shambhala, wherever that is.”
“Shambhala’s a place where only the pure of heart can live,” she said. “A place with no suffering where people live forever. The most popular theory is that it’s in the Dhauladhar Mountains, way up in the Himalayas.” Why was she giving a history lesson? Who cared where they had found it? “Is there a reason you never told me?” she asked.
“It didn’t seem like it mattered,” Ash said. “Getting the other pieces is what the Set cult cares about. That’s why they have y
our father.”
“It matters. If you know it, I need to know it,” M said, wondering if there was more he wasn’t telling her. She’d started feeling close to him. Too close, maybe. Too comfortable. They didn’t have the same agenda. For now, they needed each other, but it wouldn’t always be true. “Any chance they could have another one of the pieces?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Pretty confident, aren’t you? You said you were just doing grunt work for them. Why’d they tell you anything about the pieces at all?” M studied his face, waiting.
“Most of the information I got from your father,” Ash said. “I was someone he could talk to because I was an outsider. And I overheard things. People weren’t that careful with what they said around me. I was kind of invisible. Just the help.”
“Just the help,” M repeated. “Why did they chase you back there then? You said Liza and Bob weren’t even there when you were skulking around the cult. But they sure seemed to know you weren’t on their side today.”
He hesitated. “The other guy who was with them. He knew me when I worked there. He recognized me.”
M nodded. She got the feeling there was something more. But she didn’t push. Her cell vibrated and she quickly read the text from Joel.
“If he and my so-called guardians hadn’t thrown themselves on the suitcase, we might have ended up with their piece, too,” M went on. “It wanted to join with ours. It was hurling itself toward us, just like the torso did when we released it from the ground in Philae.”
“Except ours came apart,” Ash reminded her.
She frowned, suddenly aware of the deep throbbing that came from the Set animal. It had stopped earlier, but now it was back. M opened her pack, pulling out the leather pouch to check on the pieces. “They’re not separate anymore.” She held up the single, solid shiny black piece.
He gaped. “When did that happen?”
“I’m not sure,” M answered. “I didn’t feel it. But when Liza— Well, I wasn’t paying attention to anything else, I wouldn’t have noticed it. The pack was bouncing around. And when their piece was trying to get out of the suitcase, my whole body felt like it was vibrating.”
I Do Not Trust You: A Novel Page 15
