by Gary Starta
Brahms hadn’t briefed me on this. I thought all we were up against was warm, salt-less water. How does this force relate?
It relates to moving the water. As air moves from high pressure to low pressure, it is deflected. In the northern hemisphere it deflects to the right and in the southern hemisphere to the left. The danger is that it can be manipulated to act oppositely.
Bastet explained this might be a final phase of the water shift or any number of other phenomena the world might have passed off as unexplained or uncontrolled. Except I knew better, so I thought, If we don’t stop it, there isn’t going to be any time for explanations. Is there?
She mewled. I took it as a yes.
I asked in thought, Can’t we stop the ships from doing all this? Brahms believes there something called a cosmic remote controlling matter, specifically dark matter—
But Bastet intervened. That is true but this manipulation isn’t coming from the ships.
Then the Ennead themselves are doing it? I don’t understand. I thought they were weakened… Wait a minute, is it because they’re off-planet?
No, agent. The ultimate manipulation resides in the Labyrinth. It’s why you must arrive there after you effect the necessary changes. Remember, what you do now will only be temporary. Once those responsible find out, they will attempt it again. Now work quickly.
That was easy for Bastet to say; off-world in a nice, toasty warm environment. Even with a ski mask and insulated leggings, my skin tingled from the cold.
Briana nudged me. “Looks like you received bad news, partner.”
“You could say that. We mustn’t worry about that. Please continue—whatever it is you’re doing.” I had no clue as to what they did. Brianna and a witch counterpart held hands and chanted. Reasoning this was keeping the water frigid like Brahm’s clanking glass of ice cubes I assumed we might win this battle to face the war. I was proved incorrect. The currents below us eddied. I could only see the vortex forming in my mind’s eye.
“This isn’t part of the plan?” I shouted to Briana.
She shook her head. “It’s like it’s fighting us. This isn’t good, Caitlin. I warned about using this magic, there are always consequences…”
I witnessed water spurting through holes in glaciers. It was as if giant ice whales were swimming below. One thrust of water nearly reached our ’copter. The pilot started waving his hands, possibly to signal the other choppers. I could only discern faint mumbling from his radio. Meanwhile, a scientist on board kept tapping his laptop. My gaze bored holes through him, demanding a progress update. Eventually, he stopped tapping and his gaze met mine. I saw worry in them. This was a man of science, a pragmatic person; not an individual led around by the nose by emotion. So if this man was worried, what did that say about our mission, our survival?
I changed seats to talk to the man. We skipped introductions. “Are we affecting the water, keeping it cool?”
He shouted in my ear. “That’s not the immediate problem. We’re creating a stationery front with our—I mean their activity.” He nodded towards the witches. “It’s going to create a wind disturbance if not a heavy storm. We may have to exit, if we get the chance.”
He must have read the doom and gloom concealed behind my mirrored shades.
He began tapping his computer again. “I don’t think it’s that critical yet. But it would behoove your witches to move faster.”
I changed seats and nearly crashed into Briana, off balance from the bad news and bulky attire.
“What can I do to help, Briana? We’ve got to hurry.”
She took my gloved hand into hers. “Join me,” she said.
I prepared for what was about to happen. I needed to see into her mind; like I did when I feared for her life on the beach. There was no time to educate me about incantations. If Briana was unsettled about using water magic, I was just as uneasy about mind melds.
I felt nothing at first, then a jolt. As if someone slapped my brain. I began hearing the appropriate words and repeated, mumbling along slowly, zombie-like.
I kept my eyes closed fearing a churning, turning revolt from below.
The chant seemed to continue for eons. Finally, Briana tightened then loosened her grip on my hand.
We both gazed in the direction of our onboard scientist. He was still tapping keys at a furious pace. I couldn’t be sure if we winning or losing.
He spoke unannounced. “Sodium content decreasing and water temp rising back to acceptable norms…”
We all restrained ourselves from cheering. It was good we did, because when we redirected our attention to the pilot he was speaking very rapidly into his mike. It couldn’t be good. And peering over to view his radar screen, I saw green blots representing our choppers, confirming his distressful behavior. From the little I knew about radar, I assumed the worst. The choppers were too close together.
The pilot shouted back to us. “We’re going to be pulled into the currents. We need to abandon this area, pronto.”
I nodded in agreement. We had seemingly completed our task.
But as the pilot engaged the engines to full power; a whining, groaning bleat of defiance deafened us.
I didn’t feel we were going anywhere. And neither did Briana. We still were connected via our minds. I asked her telepathically, what can we do? Briana knew what I meant. What could I do as a human gifted with goddess-like abilities do to save us? The problem was, and we both knew it, was that my abilities weren’t so much as on-demand as sporadic bursts of super-power. I’d saved Charlize with them but only after my body completely shut down to reboot. We didn’t have that kind of time. I’d used telepathy previously but only to move small objects. I couldn’t hold aircraft away from angry, swelling seas; at least not for long. And it didn’t appear the witches were capable because we would already be out of this predicament if they were. Could Bastet send me a tether of energy? I used all my might, all our concentration—because Briana was now mind-linked with all the other witch friends in a collective unison—to dial Bastet. But it didn’t seem the cat goddess could hear us, or worse yet, was incapable of responding. I could still manage to dig my gloved nails into my palms to feel pain. That’s how desperate I was. I scolded myself for not following Briana and Brahms’ advice before. I should have been living a more pure life. Free of processed junk food. I’d purposely dulled my powers.
The wind was gusting below, its whining pitch competing with the strained motors of the choppers. I could feel us dropping. Or at least my stomach was…
Smack.
Another hit to the brain. I was disconnected from the witches. By choice or by accident I don’t know. Now I didn’t even have their magic to help me. So I laughed to myself as I prepped for my departure from this realm. Isis would have already assisted us if capable. What I perceived to be my final thoughts permeated my stubborn brain. This wasn’t about magic. We could only do so much with the telekinetic power of the water witches. Their weakness was because they weren’t tethered to the universe in the way the Ennead were. The Ennead employed all elements of the Earth in addition to the universe’s dark matter. We were so outgunned metaphysically it wasn’t funny. The Ennead, the gods—or whoever they really were—had full access. We didn’t. At least not in this crucial moment…
I felt the chopper swerve. The ocean had cut into our dance with rude abandon. It beckoned us from below. I dared sneak a peek to find pieces of glacier-sized ice bobbing upward, downward and sideways. Terrible moans of ice being sliced apart. Some of that ice became engulfed in eddies, disappearing and reappearing like ice water ghosts of the sea. It was horrible. It was ugly. It was as if the water had died.
The thought hit me with a magnitude of awareness I wasn’t prepared for. Everything became crystal clear as icy winds nipped their way through our apparel, labeling us appetizers before we—people and aircraft alike—were swallowed whole by the ocean that looked so disarming on the Internet. We were going to perish via the back door of our fo
lly, by the source of our destruction, the likes we had never before thought to protect like our children. We ignored their warnings. Maybe because it was so far away from where we lived and worked. Who were we to ask for salvation now? But I had to ask. Because as death beckoned us, this wasn’t about science or magic. It was about life. And the water and the ice were so ugly now; so angry at our ignorance and arrogance for never listening to them. I just had to give one final appeal—
That’s when chopper dipped for its final descent. To either crash in pieces on a glacier or be submersed in the freezing unlivable water temperature we’d engineered.
I recalled the living water in Brahms’ lab. The cracked and ugly water he’d spoke of. So hideous he hadn’t really wanted me to see it. And I recalled the good water, the kind water we’d blessed.
I chanted, out loud or silent, I couldn’t distinguish. My mind flashed, neurons fired, final memories burst like fireworks in succession. But I still prayed for the good of the water and for the good of us all.
I watched everything dip—we moved straight for the ocean. Maybe it didn’t listen. Maybe it didn’t want to. No. Yes. It did listen. We tipped, but now sky was above us. I felt the wind soften. I heard the pilot shout, a victorious wail, a reprieve from what he was sure was to be our final moment.
What could have been moments or an eternity later—I couldn’t be certain—I held hands with Briana counting the choppers on the radar. All accounted for. We survived. The water temp was acceptable, sustainable for the moment. A short-lived victory was all we could enjoy.
I recalled Bastet’s warning. Our next destination must be Egypt, must be the Labyrinth.
I listened to Briana’s concerns. But I disarmed her worries. I reminded her I was a part of Isis and vice versa. And who on this planet could deny The Star of the Sea access to her beloved Nile?
Chapter 19
Admissions
Seals really had no choice but to honor our sojourn to what I now referred to as the Mother Land—Egypt. Especially when I told him I felt my Isis connection growing stronger and that the Star of the Sea requested to visit her Delta Nile. He didn’t have to know that our efforts in Antarctica were temporary so I didn’t offer. I steered clear of the real purpose of our visit—the Labyrinth. I let Seals believe this was more about public relations—keeping nice with the Ennead—than coming one step closer to terminating a plan which would turn the entire planet into one big desert.
I literally bumped into Chuck in the hallway making what might be my final exit from this world’s FBI headquarters. He kept minimum eye contact and offered his “thanks” for Antarctica and “best wishes” for my trip to Egypt. It was the kind of talk you hear when you’re in the pre-relationship stage. The polite banter you spew while you’re both assessing the possibilities of a hookup. Now we were in a reverse relationship. I didn’t need Isis’ assistance or telepathic ability to read it. We had regressed to the point of no return. Funny thing was, a part of me, a voice, not quite my own, not quite Isis’—and certainly not Bastet’s—whispered this melancholy conclusion not only about Chuck but about my entire existence. I’d no idea what I’d be facing in Egypt, or whom.
I chanced a quick call from an airport payphone to reach Stanford. If this was goodbye, I wanted to hear my friend’s voice one more time. I felt him empathically during our chat, and my hand fumbled in the air as if it was seeking to touch him, preferably his kind heart. I promised myself that if this world did continue to spin I’d set aside my fears and doubts about Stanford’s previous hybrid state. I knew that keeping this world safe was paramount but I also needed to return its demon population. If I did that, if that was at all scientifically possible, I might be condemning Stanford back to his demon state. He would again be purple-eyed at times with a hunger for flesh. But I—goddess hybrid or not—would be at his side, damn it. I made this pact silently. I kept the secret about how this Earth’s water might soon be pilfered for the sake of terraforming the moon. I would let Stanford enjoy his and what might be everyone else’s final days in as little terror as possible.
Now, back to the matter at hand; my own terror which had been forming at a pretty good rate during the flight to Cairo.
I really only got the chance to view the Nile from the plane. Briana and I high-tailed it to the car rental booth the moment we landed. The idea of plane travel felt now antiquated and obsolete in comparison with my experience on the Virmana.
I could only hope the the Entourage’s visit to the moon would extend long enough for us to find a way into the Labyrinth. Bastet was certain it would be utilized to continue a plan to transfer Earth’s water to the moon. I didn’t know when I would be hearing from her again. I hoped she would at least warn of us the Entourage’s return.
I didn’t fear interference from the Ennead. Any or all of them could have been here in Cairo with me at the moment. They continued to ignore the Labyrinth’s presence as if it were some unwanted lesion or rash. They were in denial and I was practically in the Nile—ha, ha.
The information booth had the exact coordinates of the Labyrinth along with a flyer containing photos of the protruding Sphinx paw believed to be its access. The tourist visits had dwindled because many found the excruciating heat of the desert too high a price to pay to view what only was thought to be a small lip of the mammoth structure. The guide informed me of this, possibly attempting to discourage our visit. But Briana kept mentioning it was the only reason we were here. I played along. If push came to shove and we were somehow denied access, I would have pulled my Isis trump card. I let the guide ramble a bit more, and he finally succumbed to the idea we’d be taking our sojourn alone. Moments afterward, Briana advised she implanted a distraction spell into the man’s mind. He would be too busy ogling a female ticket taker in his immediate vicinity to care about us.
We purchased some desert-friendly attire in an airport store and changed into it in the bathroom. Decked out in long-brimmed hats, long-sleeved white shirts and convertible pants we scurried to our rental and proceeded to the Fayoum Oasis.
Our dust-covered sedan arrived some hours later, its air-conditioning all but failing, our mouths all but parched and our nerves all but frayed.
Cupping a hand over my shades, I viewed the Sphinx paw up close and personal. Okay. It didn’t look that impressive, but to people who never visited the pyramids before it still produced giddy smiles on our faces.
“So what’s next?” I asked, half-facetiously. I was relying on Briana’s magic to get us in. She knew this. I didn’t have to verbalize it.
She adjusted her hat and observed some stones arranged haphazardly over what appeared to be a map. They sat at the threshold of the sphinx paw. Briana identified this as a geoglyph, thanking the stars it was not a petroglyph which would have involved some sort of excavating of stones. We were so not prepared, with not one tool about our persons. But could you imagine us passing through security with pick and axe? I didn’t think so.
I raised a hand over one stone, which sat atop a beautiful map-like drawing. Muted reds and greens accentuated points of the painting that I not surprisingly couldn’t decipher. Briana scolded me to stop.
She explained the arrangement of stones over the map was in a precise pattern to manipulate both positive and negative energies. I felt a lot of negative energy swelling in my gut. I just wanted to start toying with them, hoping it would unlock the gate or whatever the sphinx paw was protecting. But I resisted.
Several chants and incantations later, I observed the stones floating over the map, trading places with each other as if in a game of chess.
Briana mopped sweat from her brow. “I don’t know, Caitlin. I’m not sure how many patterns there are left to…”
It was at that moment, clicking, clanking sounds protruded from the paw. We both jumped a step back realizing stone claws were protruding from the mammoth paw. After taking stock of our desert wear, both of us unscathed, we assessed the progression. Did we begin to unlock some sec
ret here? After a long pause, Briana attempted to lighten the situation. “Maybe somebody should have declawed this kitty a few millennia ago.” I feigned a smile. “Something knows we’re here. Did we just make our situation worse?” I asked aloud. I welcomed a change in the structure, but claws didn’t exactly equal welcome mat. I wondered if Bast was mocking us if she had a say in gate-keeping.
I dared a peek closer to the structure, gingerly making my way around the stone structure and keeping my intrusion onto the beautiful map at a minimum. It was then I spied a tiny lens, staring straight back at me!
I wanted to squirm, turn and run. But I didn’t, keeping my gaze locked with my BC Peeping Tom. They say it’s not a good strategy to become engaged in a staring contest with a foe. Yet, a few seconds later the strategy apparently paid off. A clicking, groaning sound emanated from the map. And then I literally absorbed its contents, as hieroglyphs melted into liquid, an information dump of lava swam up my legs and towards my mind. I heard Briana gasp but she made no move to aid me. At this moment, we both knew we’d either gained passage or had been bounced by one of the most formidable gate keepers this side of the universe.
We both awoke, moments later. We were…inside.
Scrabbling to our knees and finally to our feet, we peered at the wondrous architecture. And thanks to the map, I somehow knew where to proceed. Light glinted off marble walls. At times, I believed I recognized a shape of a snake or a form of a cat. I didn’t fear the shadows, but allowed them to be our guide to wherever they were taking us.
We walked for quite a bit of time. I had no way to measure as my watch had stopped dead. I tried to call for Bastet but there was no connection. It made me think of Nephthys’ comment about architecture. How walls were made impenetrable to changelings. Would these same walls also block all forms of outside communication as well? I could test my theory but didn’t think this to be the time or place. A sat phone was at my ready in a backpack. I trusted my sleazy PI friend Sweeney to arrange a scrambled feed using the same technology the Knights of the White Temple used to communicate while spying on demons.
