Seti’s father’s voice rang in the ears of his memory.
“Focus on your target—nothing else matters. Be alert. Your enemy is always poised to attack. You may know not where or when he will strike.”
He remembered the pain of his father’s staff striking his shoulder and the shame that had ripped through him. Seti had not been paying close enough attention, had been daunted by the size of his opponent and distracted by their familial relationship. The blow had brought him to his knees.
“Listen. The largest enemies may make the smallest sounds. Act. React. Do not pause. A heartbeat’s hesitation is enough time for your enemy to cleave your head from your body. Do not doubt your abilities.”
A swift dodge left Seti’s staff striking nothing but air. He had not been fast enough, had given his opponent too much warning of his attack. Another blow, this time to his upper back, threw him facedown in the dirt.
“Breathe. Scent the air for your enemies, let your skin feel for the heat of their bodies on the wind.”
Seti had learned many painful lessons on the training field, but they had left him a warrior to be reckoned with and fully capable of assuming his father’s crown. Added to his magical inheritance, Seti’s training had allowed him to become a force that had blown across the sands of Egypt, conquering everything in his path.
His bearing shifted, and he stood taller, more confident as he plugged along the mucky riverbank. He was still Seti. He was still the fierce warrior he had once been.
A small bubbling sound caught his ear, and he turned to look toward the river. A ripple stirred the water a few feet out from the bank, no more than a small disturbance in the surface but enough to put Seti on guard. His grip tightened on the haft of his dagger, pointing the sharp blade toward the water.
It came quickly, bursting up through the surface of the water in a leap that brought the crocodile nearly to Seti’s feet. Its jaws gaped as it hissed, short, thickly muscled legs quickly closing the distance between it and Seti.
Half again as long as Seti was tall, the beast’s wide jaws were lined with wicked teeth. It snapped at Seti’s legs, angling its head to sink its teeth into Seti’s flesh. One snap would seal Seti’s doom, and he knew it. The crocodile would clamp down tight, dragging him back into the water. Spiraling in a death roll, the creature would keep Seti underwater until his lungs filled with the murky, putrid liquid of the river and he drowned.
Seti was far too familiar with the behavior of crocodiles and reacted with the instinct of one born and raised among them. The Nile had been thick with them, ferocious beasts that preyed on everything and anything they could catch. Birds, wildebeest, camels, men—even lions were not immune to the crocodile’s jaws.
Moving quickly, Seti sidestepped the animal’s attack and straddled the scaly monster. Using all his considerable strength, he plunged his dagger up to the hilt into the top of its broad, flat head.
The crocodile bellowed, its body twisting violently from side to side, jaws snapping in the air, trying to reach the blade that bit deeply into its brain. Eventually its movements grew jerky, then stopped as the great beast slumped into the mud, lying still.
Seti worked the blade out of the crocodile’s skull. If he had still been king, he would have skinned the beast and taken its teeth as trophies of his kill. But now he had no time for such vanities. Leaving the enormous carcass behind for the scavengers, he pressed on.
Seti had no idea of how long he walked. Time had no meaning in the Underworld. Ra would not allow the rays of the sun to touch the fields of the dead. Night and her son, Dusk, ruled the withered plains and foul river. Without the sun there was no way for Seti to mark the passing of the day. There were only varying degrees of darkness. It felt as though he had been walking for days.
His feet blistered, his shoulders and legs ached, but he kept on. To stop, to rest, would leave him open to attack. The scavengers knew he was tiring. They were smart, staying close but just out of reach of his dagger, waiting for Seti to misstep.
A pack of hyenas kept pace with him. He could hear them snuffling in the bush, their mottled coats blending with the dried brown stalks of tall grass.
Vultures circled above him, gliding on the air currents in slow, lazy circles. Seti could feel their sharp eyes watching him, waiting patiently for their chance to tear at his flesh with their cruel hooked beaks.
All around him the hisses and clicks of scarabs and scorpions whirred, heard but unseen in the waist-high grasses.
Doggedly, Seti pushed on, forcing himself to move faster.
Finally, blindingly white domes shimmered into view in the distance, rising from the desolate brown landscape like an oasis in the desert.
The sight of Setekh’s palace gave Seti heart and the strength to redouble his pace. He broke into a jog, his braids beating a rhythmic tattoo against his back with each step. Sweat dripped into his eyes, burning them, but he ignored the sting. He kept his eyes trained on the palace, not daring to look away, praying that it was not a cruel mirage.
He slowed only when the wide steps that led up to Set’s palace loomed into view. Panting, he took a moment to regroup, to catch his breath.
The hesitation nearly cost him everything.
It came from behind him. Perhaps it had been waiting, coiled in the deep black shadows cast by the palace, or perhaps it had tracked Seti unseen from the beginning. In either case, the attack came the moment Seti paused.
A hiss that blew hot air against the skin of his back was all the warning Seti received as a monstrous form struck out at him. Only instinct saved him from being impaled on the creature’s needle-sharp fangs.
He twisted to the side, throwing himself to the ground and rolling, his body responding to the threat even as his mind struggled to process the fact that he was being attacked. A head, triangular, flat, and as large as Seti’s sarcophagus had been, struck so close by that he could feel the rush of air the beast displaced with its startlingly swift movement.
Slowly, arrogantly, as if already assured of its next meal, the cobra lifted its head. Soulless black eyes watched Seti with the crafty gaze of a predator. Rearing, it towered over Seti, its body as thick around as a tree trunk. Mirrorlike scales shimmered with swirls of iridescent green and gold, Seti’s face reflected in them a thousand times over. The snake’s fangs were each as long as Seti’s forearm and razor sharp. Strings of viscous venom dripped from each, its breath reeking of death.
The great cobra’s hood rose, exposing its fierce kohl-lined false eyes, casting dark shadows over the beast’s face. A long, sinewy black tongue flicked out from between its jaws, its forked end tasting Seti’s scent in the air.
Seti squeezed the dagger haft tightly in his fist. He barely had time to take a deep breath before the cobra struck again, its massive head snapping toward him. Again he rolled to the side an instant before the creature’s fangs would have pierced his flesh, this time bringing his arm down in an arc. The blade of the dagger sunk deeply into the cobra’s left eye.
Scrambling up and away, Seti bent low over the stairs, trying to stay out of the way of the cobra’s head as it convulsed, wildly swinging first in one direction then the other. Seti ducked and rolled, trying to keep from being crushed by the weight of the cobra’s mighty head.
As the cobra’s head repeatedly struck at the unyielding cold stone steps, the tip of one of its fangs broke off with a sickening crack. It lay on the step in a small pool of translucent venom.
Arching up off the ground, the cobra twisted away into the tall grass, flattening a large swath in the crisp brown stalks as it slithered away to nurse its wound.
Seti’s heart pounded in his chest as he pulled himself to his feet. His dagger, his only weapon, was gone, still embedded in the eye of the great snake. He turned, looking up at the entrance to Setekh’s temple from over his shoulder. There was no time to chase after the snake, even if the wound he’d inflicted had proven fatal and he was able to retrieve the dagger from the snake’
s carcass. Logan was in there, with Setekh. Seti needed to act now.
Then he spotted the piece of ivory-colored fang lying on the step near his feet. It was as sharp as any dagger and a better weapon than none at all. Carefully, he picked it up, holding it by its blunted, broken end. It was three fingers wide, as long as his hand, and Seti knew that one scratch from the venom-drenched fragment would be more than enough to kill.
Whether one could kill a god was a mystery Seti did not have an answer for, nor did he want to think about the possibility that nothing he did could harm Setekh. All he knew was that he had to do something, anything to get Logan away from him.
Taking a deep breath, Seti ascended the stairs to the archway that led into the palace of Setekh.
Chapter Twenty
“SETEKH!”
Logan struggled to remain conscious, clawing desperately at the fingers that squeezed around his throat. A familiar voice bellowed the name of the god who held him firm, but it sounded far away to Logan. Miles away. No doubt it was just his imagination trying to conjure up the one person who might have been able to save him from Setekh.
Seti.
He hadn’t had enough time to get to know Seti. Logan knew that now. Belatedly, he realized that while he’d blamed Jason’s death on Seti, it really hadn’t been Seti’s fault at all. The only one who could be blamed for his death was the god who belonged to the hand wrapped around Logan’s neck.
As he lost his battle with consciousness, Logan’s last thoughts were a wish and a prayer. A wish that he could have told Seti as much and a prayer that Seti would find his way in the modern world. That he would be happy.
Suddenly Setekh’s fingers loosened their hold, and Logan felt himself fly through the air. His back smacked hard against the wall. Gasping for air, his hands automatically massaging the bruises at his throat, he blinked at the sight of the man who stood framed in the archway that led out of Setekh’s palace.
It couldn’t be. He’d left Seti back in Jason’s apartment. How could he have known where to find Logan? How had he managed to follow him here? And why?
Logan tried to call out, to warn Seti away, but all he could manage with his ruined throat was a weak rasp that even he could barely hear. “Seti! No!” his mind thundered, although his voice was less than a whisper.
“So, you have followed your whore-toy to my demesne,” Setekh growled. Logan watched with wide eyes as Seti squared off against the much larger, omnipotent god. “I suspected that you would be foolish enough to do so. You were always weak when it came to your playthings, Seti. Did the last five thousand years not teach you that what I take, I keep?”
“You will not have him, Setekh!” Seti roared, taking a step into the room. His eyes never left Setekh. His body looked tightly coiled and ready to strike.
“I already have him.” Setekh laughed. “I must compliment you on your choice of whores. He was most… accommodating.” Setekh’s hand slipped to caress his grotesque erection.
Damn, but Logan was getting tired of not only hearing himself referred to as if he were invisible, or not in the same room with them, but of hearing himself called a whore. “Liar!” he managed to cry, still not at full volume but loud enough to be heard. Don’t believe him, Seti, he thought, trying to gather his legs underneath him and stand up. He failed, sliding back down the wall into a heap. His body, exhausted, battered, and bruised, had reached the boundary of its endurance.
Setekh’s head snapped toward him as if suddenly aware that Logan was still in the room.
“Silence! You have reached the limits of your usefulness, human!” He took one angry step toward Logan before Seti bellowed a chilling warrior’s cry and lunged.
Logan gasped as Seti flew across the room, a sharp bone dagger in his upraised fist. “No, Seti!” he screamed, his throat constricting in protest. In horror, he watched Setekh tangle his fingers in Seti’s braids, lifting him in the air and flinging him away in one smooth movement.
Seti hit the floor and skidded across the rush matting, lying facedown and frighteningly still. He didn’t seem to be breathing. Logan felt an icy wave of fear and black desolation sweep over him. “You finally did it, didn’t you?” he spat at Setekh. “You finally killed him. And why? To soothe your fucking ego? Because he bruised your pride? You’re a fucking god—what more do you want? How much of a greedy bastard are you?”
Pushing off the wall, Logan tried to stand again. Failing that, he began to crawl toward Seti’s still form, dragging himself painfully over the floor to his side. Setekh’s shadow loomed over him, and he felt Setekh’s hot, rancid breath on his back before Setekh’s claws dug painfully into his flesh, hauling him to his feet.
“I was going to allow you to live, little human—at least until I had tired of you. Now your fate will be his!” Setekh roared.
Logan frantically pushed at Setekh’s arms, beating on them with his fists, kicking for all he was worth, trying to free himself as Setekh’s jaws opened wide, but it was of no use. Scrunching his eyes shut, he held his breath and stilled, waiting for Setekh’s long jaws and jagged teeth to tear out his throat.
A heartbeat passed, then another. Still another, and yet Logan breathed and his head remained firmly attached to his body. Cracking open one eye, he looked at Setekh, bewildered, not daring to hope for a reprieve from the death sentence Setekh had laid on his head.
The expression on Setekh’s face was one of shock and pain. He dropped Logan, clutching at his shoulder, where Seti had managed to plunge the cobra’s tooth before Setekh had thrown him across the room. Roaring, Setekh spun away from Logan, cursing Seti. His bellows were earsplitting—it was all Logan could do not to cover his ears and scream himself.
Instead, he continued crawling toward Seti. Reaching him, Logan turned him over onto his back. Seti moaned, giving Logan hope.
“Seti? Seti, look at me,” Logan said, laying a hand on Seti’s cheek. His skin felt cold to the touch. “Seti?”
Seti’s eyes blinked open. “Ashai?” he breathed.
Behind them, Setekh continued to scream, his shrieks and howls echoing in the chamber.
“No, it’s me. It’s Logan.” Pulling Seti’s head onto his lap, Logan began to rock. Suddenly it became too much. Everything seemed to catch up at once, and he felt his sanity strain at its moorings. “I can’t do this anymore, Seti. Please, wake up and get us the hell out of here, okay?”
“Failed you.” Seti’s voice was weak, a mere shadow of its former deep, glorious strength.
“No, no you didn’t. Come on, Seti, get us out of here,” Logan said, shaking his head. He couldn’t believe that this was the end. He wouldn’t believe it. He wouldn’t let Seti give up.
“No. Weak. I was weak.”
Before Logan could protest again, he felt something whiz by, perilously close to his ear. The ivory fang, streaked with black gore, quivered in the floor where it had impaled itself. An inch to the left and it would have bitten into Logan’s left thigh.
“I am through with you both!” Setekh roared. “Your very existence is a blight on me, a pestilence, and it ends now!”
Improbable thunder rumbled, the room flashing with electrically charged streaks of lightning as Setekh raised his arms to the ceiling. His eyes glowed a fearsome red, sparking with hate. The thunder built to a crescendo that made Logan’s ears ring painfully.
“Enough.”
The word was softly spoken and yet cut through the din raised by Setekh’s storm. Immediately the thunder ceased and the lightning dissipated, the room falling ominously silent.
Turning his head toward the sound of the new voice, Logan saw a tall, bearded man, his skin an impossible shade of green, standing framed in the doorway. On his head he wore a conical crown flanked by two large black-and-white ostrich feathers, which Logan immediately recognized as the atef crown of Egyptian royalty. He carried a shepherd’s crook in one hand and a leather flail in the other.
“Osiris,” Setekh hissed, snapping his jaws at the new
arrival. “This is none of your concern!”
“Enough,” Osiris repeated. His voice was rich with authority; the air seemed to crackle with its power. “Setekh, you are a total pain in my ass. Dude, you really need to get a life. Metaphorically speaking, of course.”
Logan blinked, staring slack-jawed at Osiris. The contrast between his ancient Egyptian appearance and his use of curiously modern slang was incongruous. Logan liked him on sight.
“Stay out of this!” Setekh bellowed, raising his arms threateningly.
“Bite me,” Osiris snorted, pointing his crook at Setekh. A blindingly bright flash erupted from it, sizzling through the air, hitting Setekh squarely in the chest. “What part of ‘enough’ didn’t you understand?”
Setekh flew backward, his body hitting the wall behind him with such force that he cracked the sandstone. A shower of dust and debris fell with him as he crumpled to the floor. A smoldering black scorch mark marred the skin of his chest where Osiris’s bolt had hit him.
“You need to learn to play nice with the other kiddies,” Osiris chided, shaking his head. He turned his kohl-rimmed eyes toward Logan, smiling. “I’ll just bet you’ve had your fill of our hospitality, huh? Ready to go home?”
Logan grinned in spite of himself. “You can say that again. You’re Osiris, aren’t you? The All-Father, god of the Underworld—”
“Lord of the Sky, god of fertility, yada, yada, yada. I’ve read the press releases, kid.”
“Great Osiris,” Seti moaned, trying to sit up. “I humbly beg you to send Logan back to the mortal realm. He was stolen by Setekh. He did not pass through the Veil willingly.” It was obvious to Logan that speaking was taxing what little strength Seti had left, and that worried him.
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