Painter of the Dead (Shades of Immortality Book 1)

by Catherine Butzen

  “Which ignores the obvious answer,” Seth said. His lips were pressed into a thin line. “What if Zimmer knows what the shabtis can do? He could be after their powers.”

  Aki gave him a “what the hell?” stare, and Theo stiffened in her seat. “Seth,” she said, “you don’t have to talk about that. I think we’re confusing Aki.”

  “No, I think we do.” He sounded resigned. “Theo, if we don’t lay our cards on the table, your friend won’t be able to help us. And I think we…need help.”

  It was a short explanation. At the end of it, Aki turned his disbelieving stare from Seth to Theo, almost waiting for both of them to burst out laughing. “Am I being punked?” he said after a long moment. “Theo, this guy is so full of shit. Tell me it’s a joke.”

  Theo sighed again. “I’m sorry. It’s not,” she said. Her regret was genuine. At least she didn’t have to let her blackmail lie get too far, but that wasn’t much comfort. “I saw him disintegrate, Aki; I told you that. And there was that ‘organic dust’ on the floor of the loft, remember?”

  “Bullshit.” Her friend’s face was pale. “Show me the proof, or I…I don’t know. You have to go.”

  Theo and Seth exchanged glances. Then Seth took a craft knife from the piled-up art supplies on the table. As Aki gawked, he neatly and efficiently slit his own wrist.

  “What the fuck?” Aki yelped. “This guy thinks he’s the Terminator! Theo—”

  But the blood was already drying, the slashed veins closing. Beads of clay broke away from the wound and landed on the carpet.

  Aki took it a lot better than Theo had, she had to admit. He looked at her, then at Seth, then at her, then at Seth again. Color drained out of his face, and his pupils dilated. For a moment he sat frozen, his eyes darting around the room, as if he were trying and failing to process what he’d seen. He nodded.

  Then he grabbed another knife off the table and drove it into Seth’s side.

  Theo leaped to her feet, heart in her mouth, but Seth just grunted a little. As Aki stared, Seth pulled off his jacket and rolled up the edge of his shirt. The handle of the knife stuck out between two ribs, bobbing ever so slightly with each breath he took. After a moment of deliberation, Seth extracted it.

  Two inches of the blade were covered in cadmium-red blood. He held it out to Aki, who shook his head, backing away a few steps. The knife made a dull clunk as Seth dropped it onto the table, and more shards of clay scattered.

  “Good aim.” Seth tucked in his bloodied shirt. “I’ll need to borrow something clean to wear. And if you’re going to stab me again, give me a few seconds of fair warning so I can break your wrist.”

  “Jesus Christ,” Aki said, more out of a need to say something than anything else.

  “Are we finished?” Theo cut in. Her hands trembled, and she crossed her arms, hiding the telltale shaking. “Aki, look, we’re not crazy. Okay? And believe me, Zimmer may be a good guy, but there’re a lot of people who’d pay if they thought they could learn to do that.”

  Aki shook his head, seemingly emerging from a trance. “All right,” he said. “This could be a bad trip, but, whatever, let’s say for argument’s sake that this is happening. And that there’s magic statues that can make guys not die. How the hell would anyone, especially Zimmer, know about it?”

  “Anyone who can read my priest’s script knows part of the story,” Seth said. Clay dust was smeared across his sleeve. “‘This is a vessel for him, and will become as him through his will.’ But it would take a real leap of imagination to guess the whole of it. Even my tomb paintings don’t say everything.”

  “Would they work for Zimmer?” Theo wondered, trying not to worry at the way Aki had winced over “my tomb.” “They look like you—sort of,” she amended, remembering the slender and withered mummy. “And Zimmer’s sure as hell no son of Merenptah.”

  “If you are who you say you are, and that’s a big if,” Aki said, “then your father would have been born at least four thousand years ago. That’s a lot of time for the family to go forth and multiply. If Zimmer is a distant relative, sort of a Farnsworth to your Fry, couldn’t this Egyptian Rare Candy bug work for him?”

  Seth blinked. “What?”

  “Cultural references,” Theo translated. “He wants to know if it’s possible.”

  “It could be. But that hinges on not only knowing him to be a descendant of either myself or my brother, but also on him knowing he was and realizing he could use the shabtis. It’s a long shot.”

  Theo tugged at her braid, thinking. “I don’t know,” she said. “Zimmer…Zimmer’s a good guy. He’s pretty rule-bound, but that’s not a bad thing in the security business. It could’ve been someone else, as long as they worked for the museum.” Both men looked blank at that, and Theo shook her head. “The news said the thief took the stuff in Prep D, remember? Those are the last of the ones that were never LoJacked. There’s no way some random thief would know that particular group would be easiest to move.”

  “Still rules out most of the departments,” Aki put in. “Paleontology couldn’t tell a shabti from a hole in the ground, and they’d probably prefer the hole. Write off anyone from CompTech. Astronomy, head in the clouds. Art History and Library, maybe, but I wouldn’t make book on it—”

  “You’ve made your point,” Seth said. “Now please, stop the puns.”

  “For a guy who says he lived through the craziest periods in history, you sure are uptight,” Aki pointed out. There was something strangely ironic in being catty to an ancient Egyptian, but Theo wasn’t in the mood to appreciate it.

  “Guys,” she said wearily, “don’t. Please. We need a plan.”

  Aki scowled, but Seth picked up a pencil and began making notes on a discarded sketch pad. “We have to assume my legal assets are no longer available to me,” he said, “and I imagine yours are not either. If we’re going to get anything done, we’ll have to reach one of my caches. I’ve been maintaining a storage locker under a fake identity, and it should still be secure. Once we have more in the way of resources, we can make plans.” He glanced up, and the whiskey-brown eyes fixed on Theo. “If you’re…amenable.”

  Theo was torn. There was something between them, something powerful, but she wasn’t sure what it actually was yet. Need for motion had taken her this far, but part of her wished he would vanish and take the next choice out of her hands.

  Even if they did stay together, could she vanish with him? Should she? Life on the lam was no way to go, especially when the longer she stayed gone, the worse it would be when she was eventually caught. What a mess. What a fucking mess.

  “Nobody knows where I am, or if I’m guilty for sure,” she said slowly, out loud. “It’ll be the authorities’ word against mine. And they don’t know the museum as well as I do. We might be able to find more information about the real thief.”

  “And he loses his advantage,” Seth finished. His eyes brightened. “Perfect. We’ll visit my cache first thing in the morning, and then start looking for clues.”

  “Quit planning for her,” Aki growled. “Theo. Look. I’m not gonna turn you in, but this is crazy, even for you. You’re not a PI or something. And this magic stuff, it’s just…kooky,” he finished lamely.

  “It leaves options,” Theo said. “If I turn myself in now, that’s it. But if I help you now, I can still turn myself in later.”

  “And she may not be a PI,” Seth added, “but I know a few things about staying hidden. Get me to my cache, and Theo and I will be safe for at least a few days.”

  “You’re both nuts,” Aki muttered, but he didn’t raise any more objections. Theo could see the questions in his eyes, though. Seth has money, connections, and supposed mystical powers, so why would he want to spend them helping Theo? Sex?

  There’s that, Theo’s level stare replied. But I’m also the one stopping him from running away this time.

  “Both nuts,” Aki repeated, shaking his head. “But at least you’ll have something to talk ab
out. C’mon, Theo; I’ll put you in the guest room. There’s a foldout couch in there for the Mummy here too.” He raised an eyebrow. “Unless you two would prefer to share?”

  Theo’s face flushed. For a moment, a warm ochre tinge colored Seth’s face. “The couch is fine,” he said coolly.

  * * *

  In the morning, Aki gave them a makeover.

  “Are you sure you’re not my gay BFF?” Theo said as he brushed temporary dye into her long blonde hair. Aki’s eye-roll was clearly visible in the bathroom mirror.

  “You’re not funny,” he said. “Stop trying.”

  It somehow didn’t surprise Theo that Seth turned out to be familiar with the art of disguise. She found herself giggling—an unexpected but welcome sensation—as the men discussed age lines and highlights. Immature? Very. But it sure felt good.

  When the work was finished, Theo doubted her own mother would have recognized her. Her skin had an unhealthy yellow cast and her hair was a dull, mousy brown, the kind of color that had to be natural because people rarely chose it on purpose. For extra security, it had been curled badly. “You see someone with a horrible haircut, and that’s all you remember,” as Aki had put it. Tinted eye shadow gave her mutable green eyes a touch of blue.

  After Seth made good on his threat of taking a new shirt, Aki saw it as a challenge. He dug through his closet and the building’s lost-and-found, finally turning up a ripped pair of jeans and a Detroit Tigers warm-up jacket that almost fit. Seth’s expression was priceless, but after an obvious struggle (and a quick rinse cycle) he put them on.

  Aki shook his head again as he looked them both over one final time. “You look like someone’s parents about to hit the bars,” he said frankly. “No one will notice you, at least until Imhotep gets you to his cache.” He shrugged, and his eyes grew distant. “Take care of yourself, Theo.”

  “I will, Aki.” She squeezed his arm. “Thanks for your help. I’ll see you on the flip side.”

  Without another word, the pair slipped out.

  Chapter Twelve

  Gods are bastards.

  – Graffiti at Thebes,

  date unknown

  It was eight o’clock in the morning, but the sun was low and the city remained bathed in purple and orange shadows. The wind came in gusts, sending eddies of fresh snow whirling around their ankles. Beside her, Seth’s head was down, his eyes fixed on the pavement. One does not tread lightly in city slush.

  “So this cache…” she said, breaking the silence of the frozen morning. “It was obvious you didn’t want to elaborate in front of Aki.”

  “He makes my fists itch,” Seth said bluntly. “And we’re better off trusting as few people as possible. This cache isn’t big, but it’s the largest I have in the city, and it has tools and materials that will be helpful.”

  Theo nodded, tugging on the collar of her parka. She’d layered two shirts underneath it for quick changes, but she was starting to think that had been a mistake. Sweat collected quickly in the cheap fabric. “In case you needed to disappear?”

  “When I needed to disappear,” Seth responded. “The original plan was that once I had the…supplies, I wanted to leave town. Go traveling. See more of the world.”

  Supplies. Seth really hadn’t spent a lot of time outside his ivory tower; he sounded like he was talking about drugs.

  Theo wondered what kinds of odds and ends he had seen fit to hide. Probably some of his shabtis, and maybe more of his past-life artifacts that couldn’t go on display in his home. Something, at any rate, that he wasn’t comfortable with anyone seeing. There was a lot of that for him.

  Contemplating this, she didn’t pry when Seth fell silent. The pair of them walked side by side down the street, companionably quiet, their breath clouding in the chilly air.

  Theo didn’t know how much she could help him, but she could see that being on the move might be doing him good. Running had to be a habit formed to protect his secret, and facing a problem rather than avoiding it might speak to his core self. And every time she’d used his real name, his color had risen.

  She didn’t know where she was going, or what would become of her life, and that scared her—but it also warmed her to see him stepping up. She wished she had her sketchbook.

  The city was grudgingly awakening, its cars slow and infrequent, as if the machines themselves didn’t want to get moving. The Sun-Times and Tribune had already been delivered, their weight leaving cracks in the ice they’d landed on. At bus stops, commuters tucked themselves into the corners of the plastic shelters, to get as far from the wind as possible. Seth and Theo joined the crowds under the heat lamps at the Red Line stop, shoulder to shoulder with strangers who gratefully shared the warmth while refusing to make eye contact or say anything. Everyone was lost in their own world.

  The O’Hare airport sprawled on the far edge of town. Seen from the air it was a mix of modern and colorful, skewed buildings surrounded by acres upon acres of dull-gray industrial lots and parkways—a blob of Monet in the center of a Mondrian. Hundreds of businesses lived and died on those lots, serving the vast complex of the airport. It was busy, anonymous, and rarely open to pedestrians.

  The recession of the 2010s had left many buildings vacant, but at least one sector was still going strong: the self-storage lots. People going to or coming from elsewhere always needed to store things, and the competing outfits openly advertised Private Units, No Questions Asked.

  Seth led Theo to one of the many forgettable storage buildings. The units were divided into blocks of six, accessible from either inside or outside, and the guard at the gate accepted Seth’s fake ID without batting an eye. He gave them both a perfunctory looking-over, mumbled the schedule in a rote recitation, and went back into his guard shack to doze.

  Seth threw Theo a small smile and fished out a key on a blue-plastic key chain.

  “Part of the emergency kit?” Theo said quietly once they were out of the guard’s earshot.

  “Never leaves me.”

  He slipped his arm around her and pulled her into the building. Inside, it was all slick tiles, sputtering fluorescent lights, and solid, locked doors—like a high school on a day off, Theo thought wryly. Their footsteps echoed as he led her down the hall and stopped at one of the many doors.

  “It’s more than Kemet,” he whispered in her ear as he unlocked it. “I had to save what I could. I can’t show you everything, not now, but I want… You have to see what I meant.”

  He ushered Theo into a dark, stuffy room and closed the door behind them. It was warm, and Theo immediately began to sweat. “Paid for a heated unit, huh?” she said a little breathlessly as Seth locked the door behind them and fumbled for the light switch.

  “Of course. The things here could be damaged—” A rolling, consonantal curse, hard k’s and slithery s’s, escaped as he banged into what sounded like a metal shelf. “I can never find… Theo, would you… Ah!”

  Light blazed, the joyless yellow-white of more harsh fluorescents. Theo flinched, automatically shading her eyes. Wonderful things, Carter had said when he’d first opened King Tut’s tomb. She half expected to be blinded by the dazzle of gold.

  The unit wasn’t enormous, but Seth had made good use of the space. Against one wall was a low couch, obviously custom-made, with a few cushions sporting an embroidered design of lotus flowers. There was a spindle-legged table and a matching chair that looked almost Greek. Carefully stacked on a low shelf were scrolls of yellow-white paper (onionskin? Not vellum or papyrus, these days) and a writing board shaped for propping up in a cross-legged man’s lap. Several of the scrolls showed wear and would have unrolled completely if not for the shoelaces tied around them. On the walls, though—

  “Jesus Christ,” Theo said involuntarily.

  “Among others.”

  They were gods. Dozens of gods. Gods in every possible style and from every imaginable religion, from gilded figures of Odin and Zeus to ivory Inuit sea goddesses and grimacing Pacific spiri
t masks. A dozen handmade Egyptian gods sat on a special shelf reserved for them, with old and new copies of sacred symbols—the ankh, the knot-of-Isis tyet like the one his mummy had carried, the Eyes of Horus and Ra—arranged in front of them. There was Jesus, all right, looking odd and small amidst the colorful assembly. The gods crowded the walls, and their eyes watched Seth and Theo and gave away nothing.

  Place of honor was given to two-foot-tall twin statues. One was impossible not to recognize: Anubis, on one knee with his hands resting on his thighs. He had been carefully carved from a single piece of wood, smoothed and sanded and lacquered black, and his eyes glinted with gold and mother-of-pearl inlays. The other Theo couldn’t quite place. She wore an elaborate shield-shaped crown and carried a bow and a quiver of gilded arrows. There was a covered metal bowl placed between them, and its edges were blackened from years of fires.

  “Neith,” Seth said reverently, nodding to the goddess. It took Theo a moment to realize that the nod was actually a truncated bow. “Mother of the sun and archers. I named the art trust in her honor. She was my patroness.”

  Theo’s gaze stayed on the other statuettes. Next to that motley crew, Neith and Anubis seemed positively benevolent, though perhaps that was part of the point. “What about them?” she asked quietly. The eyes were making her nervous; she couldn’t shake the feeling that they were judging her. “I didn’t know you worshiped… Is that one Aztec?”

  “Yes, that’s Tlaloc.” Seth inclined his head to the statuette, which had oversized staring eyes and prominent fangs. “And next to him, Itzpapalotl. I don’t worship them, but these are gods whose hospitality I’ve enjoyed over the years. They could have annihilated me any time I crossed their borders, but they didn’t.”