Shadow Fall
Page 5
He grabbed the curtain panels. “Besides, I wanted to prepare you for this, our pièce de resistance: the Journey Through the Underworld.”
He jerked the curtains open. A sand-colored carpet led to a carved façade that was more theatrical than historically accurate. Four twenty-foot-tall obelisks drenched with hieroglyphs, designed to simulate a limestone façade, flanked a wide entrance with a winged sun disk over the lintel.
“Did you use any particular tomb as a blueprint?” Kira asked.
“We took inspiration from several tombs and papyri so visitors could have a well-rounded idea of what a journey through the underworld is like,” Hammond replied, “with a bit of embellishment for dramatic effect.”
“Meaning not based in reality all that much,” Khefar muttered.
Kira coughed. “Remember, we’re supposed to be nice,” she whispered. “It’s not for us, it’s for the audience.”
That audience seemed appropriately awed as they shuffled between the pillars into the first room. “The oldest of the funerary texts is called the Amduat, literally That Which Is in the Underworld. It recounts the twelve-hour journey that the pharaoh makes through the underworld in his solar boat. A later incarnation is known as the Book of Gates, and the twelve hours have thus become gates guarded by violent serpents. Of course, we won’t make you fine people take half a day to traverse the tomb, though we surely hope we have enough crowds to make it seem as if you’ve waited twelve hours.”
Hammond laughed, though few joined in. Atlanta wasn’t a town known for its patience with lines. “Given that, you can consider what we have here, inscribed on the walls and ceilings around us, to be the highlight reel.”
He guided them along the decorated corridor. “As you progress through, you can hear and see a translation of the text and images, and can simply pass through or have the full immersive experience of going through the gates correctly and battling Apep, the Serpent of Chaos. The pathway is completely wired with audio and video to further enhance the feeling of making a journey far beneath the earth.
“We have a representation of a sarcophagus in the burial chamber just to the west of the corridor, as well as depictions of the burials of some of the more well-known kings of Egypt. At the end of a most perilous journey—which you can experience in full when the exhibit opens tomorrow—we come to a final test, at least for the purposes of this exhibit: The Hall of Two Truths.”
The corridor opened onto a high-ceilinged chamber. This time, when the gathering gasped, Kira gasped with them.
Directly in front of them, a life-sized statue of Osiris sat on a gilded throne, wrapped feet to neck as a mummy. A soft spotlight shone down on the atef crown, the gleaming green skin, and the gilded symbols of kingship held crossed in front of him: the crook and the flail. Standing beside the throne, one hand on her husband’s shoulder, stood Isis, a gilded throne-crown atop her sleek braided hair. Behind them and to the right stood two ornately carved doors, a discreet exit sign lit above them.
A large pair of golden scales stood in front of Osiris. The jackal-headed god Anubis knelt beside it, one hand placing a large scarab, representing the heart, into the left pan. A white ostrich feather balanced in the right pan, the feather of Truth. The heart scarab had to balance perfectly with Ma’at’s feather, which seemed an impossibility.
Thoth, with his impressive ibis beak, stood to the right of the scales, ready to transcribe the outcome of the weighing. If the heart was out of balance with Ma’at’s truth, the person’s soul was doomed to be fed to Ammit the Devourer, removing that person from existence. Gleaming red eyes shone in the darkness behind Thoth, Ammit waiting her chance to feed.
Kira locked her knees, fighting to stay upright and outwardly calm. The scene was too real, too lifelike. She’d been in this place before when the Fallen had killed her in Demoz’s club. When she’d died, she’d gone to the Hall of Justice, stood before Isis and Ma’at, the Divine Tribunal and the forty-two assessor gods, and waited to have her heart weighed.
It was exactly like this.
Fingers wrapped around hers, squeezed hard. She blinked, feeling as if she’d broken through the surface of thickened water, and then glanced at Khefar. He held his jaw clenched so tight she could see the muscles working beneath his skin. So it’s not just me.
Hammond stepped forward, clapping a hand on the Anubis statue’s shoulder. Kira winced. “As you can see, we spared no expense in creating a faithful rendition of the Weighing of the Heart Ceremony from Ani the scribe’s Book of the Dead. What do you think?”
Kira managed to find her voice. “I think visitors are going to be awed.”
Hammond beamed. “We certainly hope so. To complete the public’s experience, visitors will have the opportunity to actively participate in the judging ritual.”
Excited murmurs from the audience. The hairs on Kira’s neck stood on end. “How will they do that?”
“It’s all mechanical,” Hammond explained. “Tomorrow we’re installing a machine that will dispense scarabs for a dollar each. The scarab will fall into the Anubis statue’s hand, and Anubis will drop the scarab into the measuring plate. It will then be weighed against Ma’at’s feather before their very eyes.”
Hammond held up a low-grade amethyst carved into a scarab shape. He offered it to Kira. “Would you like to do the honors?”
“No.” Her gloved hand reached up to touch the tattoo at her throat, the feather of Ma’at etched there. She felt no warming rush, either of warning or reassurance. Perhaps there wasn’t any magic in the tableau before her, but in Kira’s mind it certainly felt like there should have been.
Hammond smiled. “There’s no need to worry, Ms. Solomon. I’m sure your soul isn’t in jeopardy.”
A ripple of amusement swept through the crowd. Kira refused to be pressured. There was no way she’d commit sacrilege in order to amuse Hammond and this monkey-suited crowd. “Why don’t you show us how it’s done, Doctor?”
Very carefully, he placed the heart-stone in the center of the measuring pan opposite the feather. The gilded pans began to rise and lower, slowly swinging as it measured the weights. It seemed that everyone held their collective breath, but the scales finally stopped in perfect balance.
The sudden tension eased. “What happens if the heart doesn’t balance with the feather?” someone asked.
The director paused dramatically. “On those rare occasions, the Ammit creature will slide forward, jaws gnashing and stage-effect ‘steam’ issuing from its mouth, and snatch the soul away.”
Hammond chuckled. “Of course, that won’t really happen. However, we do advise that the young ones bypass this part of the exhibit as it may be too intense for some.” He gestured toward the open doors at the end of the panoramic display. “Shall we?”
They followed him out through the doors, spilling back into the open area near the gift shop entrance. “The gift shop will sell trinkets as souvenirs of the experience, including hard-carved gemstone scarabs. We hope that you’ll come back and journey through the interactive exhibit as it is meant to be experienced, and therefore gain a better understanding of the beliefs of the ancient Egyptians. Thank you all for your generous time—and donations.”
He turned to Kira. “My apologies, Kira. I didn’t mean to put you on the spot back there.”
Kira waved him off. “No worries, Mr. Hammond,” she said. “I suppose I was as surprised as everyone else by the breadth and depth of the display you have there.”
He beamed. “It is genius, isn’t it?”
Kira couldn’t bring herself to agree and settled for “It’s certainly impressive. Who designed it?”
“The production company brought in some set designers who’ve worked on big-budget Hollywood films,” Hammond explained. “We gave them the most exciting portions of the Book of Gates, the Amduat, and the Book of the Dead, and they created sections in each of the tomb rooms.”
With a total disregard for a logical or accurate progression throu
gh the pathway. Then again, the collection of prayers and spells was supposed to protect the dead, not make sense to the living. “I’m sure you’ll thrill lots of visitors, Mr. Hammond.”
“I certainly hope so.” He pulled out a handkerchief, dabbed at his forehead. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m being called over for an interview. Every bit of publicity helps. Please, enjoy the rest of your evening.”
Khefar sidled up next to her. “You know how I’ll enjoy the rest of my evening?”
“Getting the hell out of here?”
“It’s as if you read my mind.”
Chap†er 6
What was that?” Khefar asked as soon as they reached the car.
“I have no idea,” Kira said, pulling off her stilettos and tossing them in the backseat. She wriggled her toes back to life with a sigh. “I worked on acquiring and the display of the artifacts, and I wasn’t here when they installed the papyrus of Ani. I didn’t have the time or inclination to visit the third hall to see what they were developing. Now I wish I had.”
Khefar pulled out of the parking deck, revving the engine more than needed. “It was the way we saw it,” he said, his voice clipped. “The Hall of Judgment. The gods, the scales, and Ammit, all there. Exactly the way we saw it.”
“I know.” Kira shimmied out of her pantyhose, wishing she’d thought to put a pair of sweats in the car. She might freeze her butt off getting into the house, but at least she’d be able to move quickly.
“And you knew nothing about it?”
The tone of his voice stopped her, had her turning to face him. “What are you trying to say? That I decided to re-create the most harrowing and beautiful spiritual experience of my life to become a sideshow amusement for complete strangers? I know you don’t know me that well, but you should know me better than that.”
“You’re right.” Khefar sighed in exasperation. “I apologize. It’s just that—”
“Ma’at wasn’t there,” she cut in irritably. “In the version at the Congress Center, Ma’at wasn’t personified as she was in our vision. The scale had a baboon figurine atop it, not a statuette of Ma’at.”
“And Isis stood behind Osiris, not in front of us near the scales,” Khefar added. “It’s not the same.”
“No, it’s a good representation based on the Book of the Dead buried with the scribe Ani.” Kira rubbed her arms. “But there was something about it. I can’t really explain it, but it was off somehow.”
“Shadow?”
“I don’t know. Since we were all closed in together, I was shielding at maximum. Once I got over my shock of seeing the Hall of Judgment in 3-D, I got the sense of something sleeping, waiting.”
“That doesn’t sound good.”
“No.” She rubbed her arms again, thinking about the dreams she’d been having since Cairo. Dreams of Chaos, of growing Shadow, of making choices that would change everything.
“Are you all right?”
“Yeah. Shielding like that wipes me out.”
“Liar.”
She glanced at him again. “You didn’t even have to think about that, did you?”
He shrugged. “As you say, I don’t know you as well as I will, but I am a good observer.”
“That you are.” She settled back into the seat, her arms folded across her chest. Being in his car no longer bothered her since she’d tried to read it shortly after they’d returned from overseas. She didn’t feel guilty about doing it behind his back either—she had to have some way of learning more about the man she’d let into her home and her bed. Unfortunately all she’d gotten was the impression of miles and miles of asphalt. Boring. “At least now I know why you do it.”
“Do what?”
“Look at me when you think I’m not looking.”
“I like looking at you. You’re good to look at.”
She shook her head, not that he could see it. “It’s not that kind of look.”
“What kind of look do you think it is?”
“The kind that makes you wonder if I’m dangerous. If I’ve gone over to Shadow. The kind where you’re wondering how long it’s going to be before you have to pull your dagger against me.”
“Oh.” He paused. “That look.”
“Yeah. That look.” She fisted her hands. “I’m not in danger of slipping.”
“If you were, would you know?”
“I’d know.” She hoped liked hell that she would, if only so she could choose the way she’d be taken out.
“Would you? You’ve changed, Kira. You can’t deny that. We spent nearly three days behind the Veil. You had to channel Light and Shadow to get us out of Set’s temple alive. It was hard for you to let that power go. I’ve got to believe it was just as hard for the power to let you go too.”
It was. Channeling both Light and Shadow felt the way being thrown into a blender must feel. She’d felt the power, beautiful, delicious power, and was instantly addicted. She wanted more of it. If she allowed herself, she’d go searching for it, taking it wherever she could get it. Reason enough not to think about it.
“You don’t know me well enough to know if I’ve changed. Maybe I’ve always been this bitchy.”
“I didn’t say anything about you being bitchy,” he said in his reasonable tone that was beginning to get on her nerves. Maybe she was PMS-ing. “What I am saying is that power affects people. Everyone, no matter who it is. Gods, hybrids, humans—they’re either scared of it and try to shut it down, or they crave it and want more of it.”
He paused at a stop sign. “You don’t seem afraid.”
The man was too observant for her peace of mind. Not that she’d had a lot of peace in, like, ever, but still … “I can handle it.”
“I never said you couldn’t,” he said, so sincerely it made her wince. “Doesn’t mean that I’m not going to be concerned about you. It’s the least I can do for someone who’s trusting me with their life.”
“When you put it like that, you make it hard to be mad at you.”
He smiled. “I’m sure you’ll find a way.”
“And there it is.”
He slowed the car, his amusement instantly changing to tension. “Looks like we’ve got company,” he said, nodding to the windshield.
They’d pulled into her neighborhood, a collection of storefronts converted into mixed-use developments on the eastern edge of downtown. She saw the figure, swathed in a light-gray all-weather coat, pacing in front of her home, and recognized him as Balm’s assistant.
Something had happened to Balm.
She forced herself to think logically past the sudden tightening in her chest. No, surely she’d know something was wrong with Balm long before anyone showed up to tell her. Section Chief Sanchez had stayed at the gala after Kira and Khefar left, and she wouldn’t have done that if something had happened to the commander in chief of the Gilead Commission.
“Is it trouble?”
“Probably, but nothing that requires knives and guns.”
Khefar pulled to a stop. “You know him?”
“Yeah. That’s Balm’s assistant, Lysander. Since I’ve never seen him without her, and they’re both supposed to be back on Santa Costa, he’s probably not the bearer of good news.”
She retrieved her shoes from the backseat. Reluctantly she shoved her protesting feet back into them before grabbing her Lightblade from the glove compartment and getting out of the car. The biometric scanner mounted on the wall beside the front door read her vitals, raising the garage door in response. Khefar drove through, leaving her in the cold with Balm’s assistant.
With his pale hair and fair skin, Lysander looked to be about her age, mid-twenties. She knew he wasn’t simply because he’d looked much the same when she’d first seen him more than a decade ago. “Lysander.”
“Greetings, Kira Solomon.”
“What are you doing here?”
The man gestured to a small crate sitting on her doorstep. “The Balm of Gilead bade me bring this to you.”
“Our Lady of Light remains on Santa Costa,” the young man said, his breath steaming in the night. The chill air didn’t seem to bother him, which was good, since Kira had no plans to invite him in. Vampires weren’t the only creatures one shouldn’t invite into their homes. “It was decided but a few hours ago to deliver this to you.”
She glanced at the crate again, wary. A few hours ago meant Lysander had to already have been somewhere in North America in Balm’s Gulfstream, or he’d used alternative methods of travel. Either way, it meant that whatever was in the crate was important enough that it required a special delivery, and that didn’t mean UPS.
“What is it?”
“The answers you seek,” Lysander said, surprising her. “And hopefully understanding on your part on why your life is as it is, and why Balm is as she is.”
“Wow. That’s, like, the most you’ve said to me at one time ever. And you’re so nice about it that I don’t even mind that you’re verbally rapping me on my knuckles.”
Lysander gave a graceful incline of his head, adding a ghost of a smile. “I speak when it’s important enough.”
Balm? Kira called out mentally. Lysander’s here. I’ve got the box. Why did you send this to me now?
A wall of silence answered her. Kira tried again, got the same result. She knew Balm was there, but for some reason the head of Gilead wasn’t answering. Yet it felt different from being shut out or ignored.
Kira frowned at Lysander. “Balm’s not answering me. I can barely sense her. What’s going on?”
Lysander’s expression closed. “Balm is indisposed at the moment.”
“Indisposed?” she echoed as Khefar came out of the garage to join them. “Balm’s never indisposed. At least not to me. So I’ll ask you again: What’s going on?”