by Lynne Ewing
The kiss was over before she wanted it to be.
He pulled back and opened his eyes. A smile broke out across his face.
“You’re supposed to close your eyes,” he said, playfully shaking her shoulders.
“Of course, I know to close my eyes,” she answered.
“Then why didn’t you?” he asked.
She couldn’t tell him that she had wanted to savor her first kiss.
“You’ve never kissed a guy before,” he said softly. “I forgot that.”
Her mind reeled. “Did Sudi tell you?”
“Of course not,” he said. “Why would I talk to her about us?”
“Us?” she asked; and just as happiness started to buzz through her, another thought intruded. “Was the kiss that bad?” she asked. Then without pausing, she answered her own question. “That’s how you knew it was my first time,” she exclaimed. “Because the kiss was so terrible.”
She pulled away from Abdel and rubbed her temples. She wished now that she had practiced kissing on the back of her hand or with pillows, as her friends had.
“Don’t be upset,” Abdel said. He tried to place his arms around her.
Meri jerked away from him, then fumbled in her skirt pocket, pulled out her key, pushed around Abdel, and unlocked the front door.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
She kept her head down, too embarrassed to look at him, and darted into the house.
“Good night.” She slammed the door.
Abdel knocked. “Meri, at least talk to me. I didn’t mean to upset you. I thought you wanted to kiss me.”
“I do. I did,” she said to the dark living room.
A miserable heaviness settled inside her. She leaned against the door and wiped her tears. She had wanted her first real kiss to be hearts-and-roses beautiful, a moment to remember for the rest of her life.
“Meri,” Abdel called to her through the door.
“Go away,” she said. She couldn’t face him. She headed for the kitchen and opened the cupboard, pulled out a candy bar, tore off the wrapper, and took a big bite. Chocolate melted over her tongue.
She leaned against the counter and started to take off Abdel’s jacket. Something rustled in the right pocket. She felt inside of it and pulled out an envelope. Her name was written across the front.
He hadn’t actually given it to her, so maybe she should just leave it. She hesitated, then opened it anyway.
Divine one,
Isis has sent her burning love fires to me, and all I think about is you. Even with potions and spells I am unable to stop this love that consumes me. What will happen if I make a fatal error because my mind is clouded with love? Worse, I fear that you do not share my feelings, because you act so strangely when I am near. You turn your face away as if you can’t bear the sight of me. I have decided to return to Egypt. A new mentor will be sent.
Fondly,
Abdel
“No,” Meri screamed, surprised at the depth of her emotions.
She ran through the house, opened the front door, and sprinted down the front walk, splashing through the puddles.
At the corner, she stopped and looked both ways.
When she didn’t see Abdel, she yelled into the night, “I love you!”
Her words echoed around her, and she knew he was gone.
On Monday morning, Meri threaded her way among the guys clustered in small groups in front of the academy. She sipped her caffe latte, wishing she had added sugar to the bitter brew, and thought about Abdel. He hadn’t responded to her e-mails or her text messages. Twice she had gone over to his house, but no one had answered the door.
A low snickering made her pause. She looked at the group of guys standing in front of her. Why were they all staring at her with such dreamy smiles?
“Hi, Meri,” Cecil said, and nervously patted his black hair as if he were trying to impress her.
A chorus of hellos followed from the guys standing with him.
“Good morning,” Meri answered, unsure why they were watching her.
They turned and stared at her as she headed up the front steps.
Michelle stood near the door, a stack of newspapers flung over her arm. She handed a copy of the National Enquirer to each student who entered the school. Gray newsprint covered her fingers; the tips of her French-manicured nails were tinged with black.
“Hi, Meri,” she said with too much glee in her voice. She had rimmed her lids with silver, and her sapphire eyes looked brighter.
“What’s up?” Meri asked. “It’s spooky the way everyone looks so happy.”
“You’re front-page news,” Michelle said with a wicked grin and handed Meri a paper.
The cup slipped from Meri’s hand. Hot coffee splattered Michelle’s legs and soaked into Meri’s socks and shoes, but Meri didn’t notice the burn.
“Ouch!” Michelle jumped back and hit the door with a loud bang. “You did that on purpose!”
Meri didn’t answer. She stared down at the paper. Someone had followed her and taken her picture as she had transformed. In the first photo, she was walking in the rain, her wet clothes clinging to her body. In the second, she stood under the tree, completely nude as the change started. A flash of lightning had apparently blurred the third shot and, thankfully, it was impossible to make out her whiskers, tail, and shrinking size.
“What’s up?” Scott asked, tugging the paper from Meri. His spicy cologne filled the brisk morning air.
“Dang.” He glanced at Meri’s boxy school jacket. “You should definitely wear tighter clothes.”
“She probably posed for the picture,” Michelle said. “Can you imagine anyone doing that?”
Scott chuckled. “Michelle, you’re not going to win with this one,” he said. “Meri looks drop-dead gorgeous.”
“She’s naked!” Michelle countered.
“Ye-e-e-a-a-ah,” Scott said, stretching the word out in a slow, easy way as he gazed down at the picture again.
“I hate you, Meri!” Michelle stormed inside, but not before Meri grabbed the remaining newspapers from her.
Meri bundled them up and hurried down the steps, ignoring the comments from the guys. When she was far enough away from school, she pitched the papers in a trash bin, keeping two copies. Then she ran out into the street and hailed a cab, already texting a message to Sudi.
Three hours later, Sudi, Dalila, and Meri sat in Meri’s bedroom puzzling over the photographs in the Enquirer. Sudi had ditched her afternoon classes, and Dalila had had to climb out her bedroom window in order to avoid the bodyguard that her uncle had hired to protect her from the cult.
Dalila kicked off her jeweled thong sandals and leaned against the pillows on Meri’s bed, engrossed in looking at the photos.
“A photographer must have followed you when you left The Jackal,” Sudi said, gazing down at the paper that she and Meri shared. She looked up again and studied Meri. “No wonder the guys were gawking at you. I mean, you always look so tomboy, and you’re really incredible. You should borrow some of my clothes and flaunt yourself a little more. My green—”
“Let’s get back to the problem.” Meri nervously brushed her fingers through her hair.
“Wow,” Sudi said again.
Meri felt a blush rising.
“Your concentration would have been on Apep,” Dalila said, “so it’s possible you didn’t see a photographer.”
“I was looking at Apep,” Meri added, “so whoever took my picture would have seen the snake, too, and should have been too terrified to take my picture.”
“Unless one of the freelance photographers who chases after you has joined the cult,” Sudi said. “Maybe the cameraman was hoping to get a more gruesome photo. You know, ‘Giant D.C. Snake Eats Girl.’”
Meri shuddered. “I don’t like that idea at all.”
Dalila crinkled her copy of the paper, then spread it on top of the one that Meri and Sudi had been studying. “I think we have a bigger problem.” Sh
e pointed to another article on page three. “Tourists are disappearing near the FDR Memorial,” Dalila said. “The memorial is next to the Tidal Basin, and bodies of water have always been entrances to the Netherworld.”
“Do you think that’s the way Apep is going back and forth to his lair?” Meri asked.
“I’m certain it is,” she answered. “We need to find Abdel.”
“That could be a problem,” Meri said and fell back onto her bed. “I have something to confess.”
By the time Meri had finished telling them everything that had happened between her and Abdel, she and her friends had eaten three bags of microwave popcorn and had gone downstairs to the kitchen to start on the chocolate-chip cookies that Georgie had baked before going home.
“We don’t have time to wait for a new mentor to find us,” Dalila said, frowning.
“You’re right,” Sudi agreed. “I think we should destroy Apep before he kills more tourists.”
“Abdel said not to do anything until he found a protective spell,” Meri countered.
“He deserted us,” Dalila said with a flash of anger.
“It’s my fault,” Meri said guiltily.
“He’s the mentor,” Dalila corrected. “He should know better than to leave us, especially now.”
“I agree.” Sudi dipped her cookie in a glass of milk. “So how are we going to stop Apep?”
“According to legend, Apep must be dismembered until each bone in his body is separated from the rest,” Dalila explained.
“Gross.” Sudi set her cookie on a napkin. “That’s disgusting. I can’t do that. I can’t even kill garden snails for my mother. I don’t have the stomach to—” She didn’t finish her sentence and grimaced.
“Can’t we just look in the Book of Thoth?” Meri asked, feeling ill just from imagining getting close enough to Apep to cut through his scales. “Abdel was going to find a spell. So maybe we can.”
“Besides, how can we slaughter something as big as an anaconda?” Sudi asked. “We’ll have a thousand witnesses and probably become the lead story on the local news.”
“We’ll do it on Halloween night,” Dalila said calmly. “Then, if anyone sees what we’re doing, they’ll think it’s only holiday shenanigans.”
“I’ve never heard of anyone cutting up a snake on Halloween,” Sudi answered.
“It’s not exactly a holiday tradition,” Meri agreed unhappily.
“The only problem is that we’ll need to find sacred knives,” Dalila said. She looked at the ceiling as if she were mentally going through museum displays. “Have you seen any in the Smithsonian?”
“You don’t expect us to steal something from the Smithsonian, do you?” Meri asked.
“We’re supposed to stand against evil,” Dalila replied.
“I know we’re supposed to do whatever it takes,” Sudi said, “but we’ll get caught. There’s no way.”
“All right,” Dalila said reluctantly, “I’ll look through my uncle’s catalog of artifacts. Maybe he has something that he’s studying now. Hopefully, he has borrowed a few knives from a museum that we can use.”
“I’ve got to go home,” Sudi said as she started for the front door. “Mom’s planned a family night.” She shook her head. “Abdel chose the wrong person when he picked me over my sisters. They love this kind of weird stuff.”
“He didn’t do the choosing,” Dalila said, correcting her. “Fate did, when the birthmark was given to you.”
Sudi sighed. “Just my luck.” She turned at the door and looked back at Meri. “I’m scared.”
“Me, too,” Meri replied.
Dalila didn’t say anything. Tears rimmed her eyes.
Meri hugged them each good-bye.
After Sudi and Dalila left, Meri went back to the kitchen to rinse out their milk glasses. Washingtonian magazine lay open on the counter.
Fear raced up her spine. The magazine hadn’t been there before. She would have noticed it. She walked over to it and stared down at a full-page advertisement for the Anubis Spa, announcing the opening of a special exhibit of ancient Egyptian relics that included ritual knives.
Meri stood on the street corner, all attitude and tough demeanor, even though her heart was racing. She stared up at the Anubis Building, then lifted the huge sunglasses she had just bought from a vendor and scanned the block behind her to make sure no photographers had spotted her in spite of her disguise.
She had slicked back her hair and redefined her eyebrows—not that anyone was going to see her eyes—but the arch jutting over her brow did not look like her. Neither did the tailored pantsuit that Roxanne had picked out for her. She fiddled with the collar to make sure her pink T-shirt wasn’t showing, and waited.
After a car passed, she crossed the street and prayed that no one saw the outline of the Bermuda shorts she wore under her slacks. She carried a computer case in which she had packed a cotton hat, flip-flops, a moist cloth, and her papyrus from the Book of Thoth. She hoped that anyone who saw her would think she was a college intern who worked in the congressional offices.
Black glass covered the building facade and reflected the line of orange school buses parked at the curb. The front door opened, and children burst outside, running past Meri and shouting to each other about mummies and cat coffins.
Meri hadn’t told Dalila or Sudi about her plan. She sensed that the advertisement so boldly left on her kitchen counter had been more trick than invitation. She was probably heading into a trap. Still, she had to take the risk. They needed the knives to stop Apep.
She stepped into the lobby, clutching the strap of the computer case so no one would see her hands trembling, and walked with purposeful steps through the flow of children still exiting the building.
Moments later, she entered the exhibit hall. The lights were dim, other than those focused on the artifacts in the display cases. She started forward and nearly bumped into a man before she realized he was the spa owner.
Adrenaline shot through her, and her mouth went dry with fear.
She strode past him, her back twitching, and pretended to examine the canopic jars.
The sound of rhythmic clapping startled her. Rattles and drums joined the noise.
She stepped between two large sarcophagi as a parade of eager children marched past her. Some shook sistrums, and others beat on drums. Those who didn’t have instruments clapped and jumped. Their teacher beamed, enjoying their excitement.
Two security guards followed the group into the room. The larger one, with sunburned cheeks, checked his watch.
Meri turned her face away and pretended to read a plaque describing a blue glass headrest.
When the guards passed, she hurried down a hallway to the next exhibit room. She had gone only a few steps when she heard someone behind her. She turned abruptly.
Her sudden movement startled two young boys who had been creeping up behind her, probably bored with the artifacts and playing at being spies. They laughed and ran back to the first room.
Meri walked past more display cases, her urgency building. She sensed she was running out of time, and still she had not found the knives.
Then a distant voice spoke. “…The ancient Egyptians valued tranquility and order.…”
A guide was bringing another group of children through.
Meri needed to steal the knives and leave before the tour caught up to her. She quickened her pace.
In the next row, knives with slashing blades and lotus-flower handles sat in a display, along with jewel-encrusted daggers made from gold, bronze, and lapis lazuli.
She bent closer, studying the hieroglyphs engraved in the metal, until her breath fogged the glass. Then she saw what she wanted. A knife with a long, scalloped blade and an alabaster handle carved in the form of the fierce war goddess Sekhmet. Her name meant “the powerful one,” and her fury was so devastating that other gods had had to intervene to save humankind from her destruction.
Meri looked around the room. She di
dn’t see anyone, not even a security guard. That struck her as odd, but she couldn’t think about it at the moment.
She shut the doors, closing the only entrance into the room other than an emergency exit, and quickly slipped a dead bolt into place.
She raced back to the display, unzipped the computer case, and pulled out the papyrus. Her heart pounded as she stared down at the spell she intended to use.
Both Dalila and Abdel had cautioned her about calling forth the goddess Sekhmet. Invoking her name could unleash terrifying power.
Meri closed her eyes and lifted her arms.
“Now I speak the terrible name Sekhmet,” she whispered, “and call forth her power. Open the seal, that I might have the knives to protect the world from the fiend Apep.”
Then she read from the scroll. “Behen a Sebau, se hetem na Apep,” she intoned. “May I crush the evil one, may I destroy Apep.”
Hot desert winds blew into the room, flapping her suit jacket as the scorching gust whirled around her.
The lioness-headed goddess appeared in a storm of sand, and with uncanny grace she walked over to the knife display and opened it.
The goddess vanished, and someone began screaming.
Meri whipped around.
The two boys who had followed her before stared at her, their faces covered with sand, screeching.
“No one is going to hurt you,” Meri said, trying to reassure them. “Please be quiet.”
When she lifted the knives from the display, an alarm went off. She clenched her jaw, bracing herself against the ear-piercing sound, and dropped the knives into her computer case. Shouting came from the hallway. The locked door shook as people on the other side banged against it, trying to break into the room. The boys ran to the door, sobbing and crying for help.
Meri set the papyrus on top of the knives, closed the case, and hurried across the room. She slammed through the emergency exit and rushed into a narrow passageway between the buildings. The stench of garbage was overwhelming.
She threw off her sunglasses, stepped out of her heels, and tore off her suit as sirens became louder than the alarms. With trembling fingers, she snapped her computer case open, grabbed the cotton sun hat and set it on her head, then yanked out the canvas tote and jammed the knives and papyrus inside it. Quickly she set her flip-flops on the ground, stepped into them, and grabbed the cloth. She left the computer case and ran toward the street, scrubbing off her fake eyebrows. Barely able to breathe, she turned the corner.
