Sick Teen

by Jon Jacks

  She indicates the arrow with a dismissive nod of her head.

  ‘Pagrhat,’ I say, attempting to remain calm and in control, ‘I don’t know why I’m aiming this arrow at you: but then, I don’t know why you attacked me either!’

  ‘I’m not talking to you!’ Pagrhat snarls mockingly. ‘I’m addressing Anat!’

  ‘She’s not here!’ I insist firmly. ‘She’s not controlling me!’

  ‘The bow, the arrows,’ Pagrhat says with a sneer. ‘That’s where she’s been hiding all this time!’

  ‘The Arrows of Life? But that doesn’t make any sense!’ I’m straining all the more to hold back from releasing the powerful bow. ‘They were one of the reasons Anat had to go into hiding!’

  ‘The Bow and – well, most of – the Arrows of Life are still lost! That’s why she’s still so reticent about showing herself. They really did fall into the raging river, didn’t they? Into Yam the River God himself!’

  I fleetingly glance down at the split serpent.

  ‘He’s Yam?’

  ‘One of his servants; seven serpents in all, just as there were seven arrows. One serpent to hide each arrow.’

  ‘None of what you’re saying really makes much sense, you know. I’ve got the arrows here, with me, haven’t I? And if Yam and his serpents are helping Anat, why would she force me to kill Ashtar? And why wouldn’t she know where the arrows are?’

  ‘Ah, I lied, I’m afraid: the serpents are working for my master, Mot.’

  ‘Ahh,’ I say, trying to process this new piece of information, to slot it in amongst all the other puzzling pieces. ‘Then why are they keeping me alive.’

  ‘Oh dear; did I lie there, too? You’re dead, I’m afraid.’

  *

  Dead.

  It hardly seems to make much difference to me, to be honest.

  Here I am, after all.

  I don’t feel dead.

  I’m not acting dead.

  My expression must be one of resignation.

  Pagrhat’s expression though; now that’s completely different.

  It’s one of surprise, of dawning knowledge.

  ‘But…of course!’ she chuckles richly, like she’s just recalled some fabulously funny joke.

  ‘Maybe if you let me in on the joke, I’ll continue holding this arrow back from hitting you,’ I say irately.

  ‘Well, don’t you see?’ she laughs. ‘I led her here! I brought Anat here, to Ashtar! Anat not only knew we’d kill you; she wanted you to be killed!’

  ‘But…Anat isn’t here!’ I persist. ‘She’s not me!’

  ‘Ah, but she is; and fortunately, she revealed herself too early.’

  She moved forward, moved as if readying herself to transform and move into the attack once more.

  ‘Wait!’ I snap, causing her to halt. ‘If what you’re saying is right, that these aren’t the Arrows of Life; then this one will kill you, as it did Ashtar!’

  She laughed, like she’d remembered another fabulous joke.

  ‘My master, Mot; he secretly punished my father for having all that power over him. In the old language, Pagr’ is the word for corpse; I was born dead, I am death! Who better to relieve my father of such a dangerous weapon?’

  She slips yet again into the continuation of her forward movement, transforming the move into a leap, a lifting of her feet up off the floor.

  She instantly morphs into the giant vulture, viciously swooping towards me.

  I release the arrow; what other weapon do I have?

  *

  Chapter 24

  The arrow doesn’t miss; that instinct again.

  It plunges deeply into the vulture’s breast, around where I assume the heart must be.

  It hits her with such a tremendous force that it slows her down, actually throwing her back in mid air, her wings briefly flailing uselessly. She screeches agonisingly, throwing back her long neck as she releases her terrified shriek. Her eyes are bulbous in their shock, their horror; their realisation.

  ‘The Arrow of Life!’ she furiously but exhaustedly wails, her rapidly weakening wings refusing to beat hard to keep her in the air. ‘I threw away the wrong one!’

  She hits the ground hard, heavily, that long neck now limply writhing as if broken and useless. Feathers scatter everywhere, the huge wings crumpling about her like an old, discarded fur coat.

  Once again out of instinct, I jump out of the way as she falls and strikes the floor, fearing that those crumbling great wings might still stretch out and bowl me over even as she dies.

  Then, at last, she’s completely motionless.

  She’s dead.

  Or, if she really was dead, as she claimed, the Arrow of Life has somehow evened things out.

  Is that how it works?

  Who knows?

  My hands are empty; I’m no longer holding the bow.

  But standing beside me now is my mirror image; a girl who could be my twin.

  *

  Anat; it has to be.

  I still have the great sword strapped across my back, I realise as I briefly reach behind me to check what’s there; but the quiver of arrows has gone.

  Anat doesn’t speak to me: she simply steps forward towards the motionless vulture.

  She does have a bow and a quiver of arrows strapped across her back, but it looks to me (the weapons expert again!) like a much simpler version to the one I'd held. Similarly, the great broadsword is also strapped there, but it's a different sword to the one I still have.

  Callously placing a foot upon the dead vulture to keep the body in place, Anat reaches down and effortlessly pulls free the Arrow of Life.

  I notice that her left arm isn’t properly formed, for some reason, as if it has been warped or badly burnt in a battle. Still remaining silent, she raises this arm, pointing off towards the corner of the room where Pagrhat had cast the arrow she had falsely believed was the Arrow of Life.

  The arrow ripples, rises off the ground – and flies towards Anat’s arm. Here it shivers, dissolves, and blends to become part of Anat’s flesh, repairing what I’d thought had been an unnatural warping.

  As she seems unwilling to speak, I presume it’s up to me to open up the conversation.

  ‘You’ve failed, you know?’ I say calmly. ‘I’m already dead; just as your precious Baal couldn’t take over poor Zeb, you can no longer take over me.’

  She turns to look at me with a curious, wry grin.

  ‘Take you over? Now why on earth would I want to do that?’

  ‘Don’t you need to do that? I mean, as Pagrhat said; to take on this Mot, you need a presence on earth to accomplish it.’

  ‘Ahh, so you’re here, what: an hour at most? And already your an expert on everything going on around here?’

  ‘I’m just going by what Pagrhat sa–’

  ‘And you can’t think for yourself? You trust everything everyone tells you, do you?’

  ‘Well no, but when–’

  ‘But when I’m confused, what choice do I have, right? That ancient excuse!’

  ‘Sh*t! I really am you, aren’t I?’

  *

  ‘You used me!’

  I’ve given up on politeness; this b*tch didn’t mind that I was killed, that Zeb was killed – she even counted on me being murdered!

  ‘Ah, big deal,’ she says dismissively. ‘And you’ve never used anybody to get what you want in life, yeah?’

  ‘I haven’t planned on getting them killed!’

  ‘If something’s gonna happen, then you might as well take that into account, right? Use it to your advantage?’

  ‘How…how callous could anyone be?’

  For once, I’m lost for words.

  This girl is just unbelievable!

  I’ve never come across such arrogance, such…

  Oh okay; maybe I have, right?

  ‘Tana! Are you all right?’

  The voice comes from behind me.

  I whirl around.

  It’s Zeb; st
anding in the window.

  *

  Chapter 25

  ‘Zeb!’

  Zeb lithely hops down from the widow ledge onto the floor.

  He rushes towards me; turning, I rush towards him.

  ‘But how did you get here?’ I ask gleefully as we joyfully throw our arms about each other; but before we can turn it into a full-on embrace, I anxiously lean back a little: ‘Are you…?’

  ‘Dead?’ Zeb chuckles. ‘I was dead, after all, wasn’t I? I realised that, thankfully; so I ordered my body to let me go.’

  ‘Oh Zeb!’ I hug him tightly at last, relieved that his spirit has been allowed to come through to here after all.

  We kiss; at last. It’s a cold kiss – but heck, it’s Zeb!

  ‘We can be together here no–’

  He stops: I feel him freeze in my arms.

  He’s looking fearfully over my shoulder.

  When I turn around to follow his gaze, I see he’s staring at Anat.

  And not because he’s startled that she looks just like me.

  He’s startled because she’s crouching on a knee and aiming an arrow over my shoulder; aiming directly at his forehead.

  *

  ‘It’s an Arrow of Life,’ Anat calmly declares.

  ‘Ahh…’ says Zeb, in a way that implies he’s not really sure what’s going on here.

  ‘Anat! No!’ I say, stepping between them, ensuring she no longer has a clear shot of him.

  ‘Zeb means you no harm,’ I continue firmly. ‘He’s the one who you’d intended to use to resurrect Baal. And now he’s dead too, like me. Haven’t we suffered enough for your warped purpose?’

  ‘Suffered?’ Anat snorts derisively. ‘Hahh! I don’t think Mot’s suffered at all throughout all this!’

  ‘Mot?” I frown in bewilderment. ‘Anat, no way is this–’

  ‘Your brother, Baal,’ Zeb yells out nervously over my shoulder, ‘isn’t he really Baal-Zebub?’

  ‘Of course!’ Anat replies proudly.

  ‘Then you are evil!’ I snarl, throwing myself towards Anat, intending to bring this impasse to an end by snatching the bow from her.

  I’m no longer moving as instinctively swiftly as I had been only moments before. Anat, on the other had, is fluid in her moves as she leans slightly to one side.

  She lets the arrow fly, aiming over my shoulder.

  Zeb’s head has been revealed by my slow, cumbersome move.

  Similarly, I can no longer move swiftly enough to prevent the arrow from striking its target.

  *

  I might be moving too slow; but Zeb isn’t.

  He moves with a speed and skill almost on a level with Anat’s litheness.

  He grabs me firmly by the shoulders.

  He pulls me into the path of the arrow.

  Protecting himself.

  Sacrificing me.

  The arrow strikes me hard directly in the middle of my forehead.

  And a frustrated Anat dissolves before my eyes.

  *

  Chapter 26

  The ink has to be mixed incredibly carefully; the ingredients are carefully measured – yes, even my urine, which gives the delicate inkings their potency.

  My urine, Yatpan assures me, is even more efficacious than hers.

  For haven’t I had the rare privilege of being an intended manifestation – an avatar – of the great Goddess Anat?

  I have been dead; I have travelled in the spirit world unencumbered by earthly materials.

  I have visited the Halls of Zafon; I have witnessed the majesty of the Throne, and the boundless knowledge of Arsh.

  I have been a personal victim of Mot, who has held me firmly and even kissed me while in the guise of a friend.

  And yet an Arrow of Life has restored me to life on earth.

  Despite all this, I’m resentful that I failed Zeb; that I failed everyone else here on earth

  If Anat had killed Mot, had killed Death himself, then I would have been restored to life anyway.

  And so would Zeb.

  As it is, Zeb remains dead.

  While Mot remains alive.

  *

  With Yatpan, I now search for another one destined to help Anat defeat Death.

  We look for the birthmark, the bloody purple snail.

  They’re incredibly rare, Yatpan informs me.

  It has been over a thousand years since two appeared together, as they did with myself and Zeb.

  Over thousands of years, there have only ever been three occasions when Baal-Zbl – Lord of the Heavens – has had an opportunity to aid his sister in her task.

  ‘There will be another time!’ Yatpan assures me, almost everyday.

  Meanwhile, I mix the inks, in readiness for the appointed one.

  But at least I now know who I am.

  I’m Tana: a Daughter of Anat.

  End

  If you enjoyed reading this book, you might also enjoy (or you may know someone else who might enjoy) these other books by Jon Jacks.

  The Caught – The Rules – Chapter One – The Changes – Sleeping Ugly

  The Barking Detective Agency – The Healing – The Lost Fairy Tale

  A Horse for a Kingdom – Charity – The Most Beautiful Things (Now includes The Last Train)

  The Dream Swallowers – Nyx; Granddaughter of the Night – Jonah and the Alligator

  Glastonbury Sirens – Dr Jekyll’s Maid – The 500-Year Circus – The Desire: Class of 666

  P – The Endless Game – DoriaN A – Wyrd Girl – The Wicker Slippers – Gorgesque

  Heartache High (Vol I) – Heartache High: The Primer (Vol II) – Heartache High: The Wakening (Vol III)

  Miss Terry Charm, Merry Kris Mouse & The Silver Egg – The Last Angel – Eve of the Serpent

  Seecrets – The Cull – Dragonsapien – The Boy in White Linen – Porcelain Princess – Freaking Freak

  Died Blondes – Queen of all the Knowing World – The Truth About Fairies – Lowlife

  Elm of False Dreams – God of the 4th Sun – A Guide for Young Wytches – Lady of the Wasteland

  The Wendygo House – Americarnie Trash – An Incomparable Pearl – We Three Queens – Cygnet Czarinas

  Memesis – April Queen, May Fool