Bonds That Beckon (Daughters of Anubis Book 1)

by Kelli Kimble

  We went upstairs. I propped Mother under her arms, pretending to put my arm around her affectionately so that she wouldn’t notice I was trying to keep her from falling back to the foyer floor. We made it to the landing just as Daddy emerged from their bedroom.

  “Betty.” His brow shuttered over his eyes. “We’ve talked about this.”

  “About what?” she asked, moving from me to lean against his chest.

  “Iris, it’s bedtime. We’ll talk in the morning about your behavior.”

  He grasped Mother by her upper arms and maneuvered her into their bedroom, shutting the door behind him. He doesn’t like it when Mother drinks. Normally I don’t either, but tonight it might have saved me from explaining myself.

  In the morning, Mother was back to her normal self. She was dressed in a pretty housedress; one that I knew she’d shopped for and saved specially for an occasion like this because it showed off her figure and also had a pleasing pattern of roses splashed across it. It was meant to soften Daddy’s attitude towards her transgression, but it never worked.

  I was eating a helping of toast and eggs when he came into the kitchen and sat at the table, pointedly ignoring her.

  “Good morning, Iris. Sleep well?”

  “Yes, sir,” I said.

  “Lovely.” He shook open the newspaper. Mother slipped a cup of coffee in front of him. He automatically picked it up and sipped as he turned the pages.

  “There’s a home football game tomorrow night, right?”

  “Yes, sir.” The tension in the room was too much to stand. I’d finished my eggs and was ready to bolt, but I knew Daddy was going to pursue a line of questioning.

  “Who will you be spending time with after the game, hmm?”

  “Nobody, sir.”

  “What? You’re a cheerleader. Surely there must be a boy who’d like to take you out for a soda or something.”

  “Clark,” Mother said.

  He shook his newspaper, dismissing her concern.

  “You need to get out there,” he motioned towards the window, illustrating the world. “Make some friends. You don’t have to go out with a boy. Why not spend the night at a girlfriend's house and . . . I don’t know, have a pillow fight or do each other’s hair or something.”

  I looked down at my empty plate. Shame or guilt or some bad feeling with a sour taste swelled up from my stomach, causing me to burp up egg-scented air. I wrinkled my nose at the smell of it.

  “Iris,” Daddy said, waving his hand before his nose. “That’s just uncalled for. Betty, I thought you were teaching this girl manners.”

  Mr. Anu’s conversation suddenly pressed on my chest. I’d had dreams of a black dog with even white teeth. Sometime in the night, his argument had started to seem plausible. “Am I different?” I looked back and forth between them. “I’m human, right?” I blurted.

  Mother and Daddy both looked at me as if I’d asked them to stop walking on the ceiling.

  “Of course, you’re normal,” Mother said, rushing to me. She cast a dirty look at Daddy as she put an arm around my shoulders. “It’s okay that you haven’t made any friends. Maybe you just haven’t found the right people yet.”

  I shook her hands away.

  “This isn’t about friends. This is about me being different. Us being different. Haven’t you ever noticed that you could see better, hear better — even smell better than other people?”

  Mother and Daddy exchanged a worried look. I wasn’t sure if that meant they were holding something back, or if it meant they thought I was crazy.

  “It’s not a crime to have more sensitivity to the world,” Daddy said. “It doesn’t make us any different.”

  Frustrated, I pushed back from the table and stood. “I don’t want to be late for school.” I snatched my dishes and dropped them into the sink of soapy water that Mother had ready. I ran up to my room for my school bag, then for the front door.

  But Daddy stood in the way.

  “Listen, Cinnamon Bun. I’m sure the other kids will come round. You’ve just gotta keep your chin up. And smile. People like it when you smile.”

  I offered him a polite — but fake — smile. “Thanks, Daddy,” I said. I stood on my toes to brush a kiss across his cheek then slid around him and out the door. I let out a sigh. I know that my parents worried that I hadn’t adjusted to the move from Georgia. But it wasn’t like I’d had real friends there, either.

  It was like Mr. Anu said; I was different.

  Chapter 5

  After school, I told the cheerleading coach that I had girl problems so that I could go to Mr. Anu’s place. Something scratched at the back of my brain, telling me that I needed to hear more of his story before passing judgment.

  On the way there, I mulled over what I was going to say. In my heart, I believed some of what he’d said. But maybe I only wanted to believe. Who doesn’t want to be special?

  I went round and round, confusing myself. When I got to the end of his gravel drive, I paused. A mental slap was needed. Think. What could he gain by lying?

  I couldn’t think of anything a rational person would hope to gain by tricking another into believing they’re something they're not.

  I pedaled furiously up the drive. I spotted him going into the barn. I made a beeline for him.

  “Tell me the whole story,” I said, jumping off of my bike before it was stopped and dumping it to the ground.

  He wiped his hands on a rag and nodded.

  “Hello to you as well,” he said. The formal way that he clipped his words dug under my skin.

  “Hello,” I said, further irritated. But: manners. “The story you told me about yesterday. I want you to start from the beginning and tell me the whole thing.”

  He shook his head. “It is not a story.”

  I clenched a fist and counted to three in my head. “Yes, sir,” I pulled a deep breath in and let it roll out before continuing. “Would you mind telling me again, about being an Egyptian god?”

  A smirk twisted his lips far to one side, revealing one extra-sharp-looking canine tooth. My tongue shot to the edge of my own correspondingly sharp canines. Once, Mother had taken me to a dentist, who’d accused me of using a tool to sharpen the points. Mother had called him a cad and refused to pay the bill, dragging me behind her with the paper bib still tied around my neck as she stalked out of the office.

  “You see things you haven’t seen before,” he said.

  “I wouldn’t say that. I just want to hear more about it.” I stuffed my hands into the pockets of my skirt and looked at the ground.

  “All right. Let us go inside and have some refreshments.” He held one hand out towards the house and herded me with the other, not touching me but circling it near my back. We went together into the house, and, just like yesterday, he poured me a glass of fresh-squeezed lemonade. We sat at the kitchen table.

  “I implore you to have an open mind, Miss Hond.”

  “I’ll try, Mr. Anu.”

  “There was a time thousands of years ago when I was a god. I reigned over Egypt, and I had a special purpose. I guided the hand of embalmers. Do you know who they were and what they did?”

  “I know what embalming is.”

  “You know of the modern-day process of embalming. What I speak of are those who undertake the mummification process. I assisted them with performing their job, and, when the mummification was complete, I would lead the soul of the deceased to the afterlife.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “You still do not believe me.”

  I shook my head. “Don’t worry about that. Tell me the rest.”

  “I was content in my role. Happy, as you would say. It gave me purpose, and I was worshipped. Wouldn’t you like to be worshipped?”

  “Of course.” I sipped my lemonade. Worshipped would be a much-appreciated change of pace from my current status at school.

  “It made me powerful. Complete. Statues were built and sacrifices were made in my honor, and humans had grea
t respect for me.” He paused and looked off into the distance. His mouth turned downwards gradually, a bitter frown creasing his forehead.

  “You say that in the past tense,” I said. “People don’t worship you anymore?”

  “No.” His tone was sharp, and I flinched.

  “Why not?”

  He stood up and emptied his lemonade into the sink. “I am sorry, Miss Hond. It seems that I am not ready to speak of this, after all.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Then can you tell me what an Anubian is?”

  He crossed his arms and stood with his bare feet planted shoulder-width apart. His face fell into a neutral expression. “I do not believe that you are ready yet, either.”

  “What? But yesterday —”

  “Yesterday, you fainted, and I had to pamper you like a child.”

  “You said that you made me faint. And I am a child, according to you,” I said. “I’m only 17.”

  “Exactly. I do not know what I was thinking. You cannot take this in. You simply are too young.”

  A ripple of anger flooded through me. Here I was, trying to understand what it was he was telling me, trying to make sense of things, and he was pulling the rug out.

  “Fine,” I said, stomping towards the door to put my loafers back on. “If an Egyptian god can mistake me for someone who’s ready to know their fate when I’m not, then I don’t know how I’m supposed to find my way in the world.” I stuffed my feet into my shoes and grabbed the doorknob.

  “Stop,” he said.

  I snorted in disgust but stood still.

  “You are right. I’m a god. I should not doubt myself.” He motioned to my chair. “Please.” He didn’t wait for me to sit.

  “Over time, the Egyptian gods were eclipsed by the rise of other faiths. Temples to my fellow deities and me fell into disrepair, and people stopped worshipping us. I grew listless. I had a wife and children, who were also gods. But even their love could not fulfill me. I began wandering the Earth, looking for my purpose. It was not evident. The lives of men were trivial and short, but I became obsessed with them. I decided to act as if I were a man, and your people accepted that I was. It never crossed their minds that I’d be anything else, though my size makes me obviously different.”

  He paused and left the room, then returned with a small painting. He put it on the table in front of me. “This is Joanna.” His fingers lingered over the edge of the gilt frame, rubbing over it in a caress.

  “You loved her,” I said.

  “Yes. When we met I immediately knew love. And it filled me. It made me feel powerful again.”

  “May I?” I gestured to pick up the frame.

  He nodded his permission, and I pulled it towards me. The paint was thickly applied to the canvas but delicately colored. It was cracked in places, and some of the colors had started to fall away. But it was plain that the woman in the painting had great beauty. A sudden jolt hit me: Was he looking for his next Joanna? Did Mr. Anu . . . love me?

  I chanced a quick glance up at him. He was staring into the middle distance, his arms positioned as if they were around someone, his eyes a million miles away.

  No. That wasn’t what he wanted from me. Embarrassment made my cheeks feel hot.

  I set the frame down, and my motion broke his reverie. He continued.

  “Though I had a wife already, I took Joanna as my human wife. We had many children together. Your ancestors, to be accurate. You are many descendants away from me, my dear Miss Hond. But we are distantly related. All Anubians are.”

  “But that’s . . . eww,” I said. “Are you saying my parents are Anubian? And they’re related?”

  “Certainly. All of man is distantly related since you all draw your origin back to one pair. It is only that you can draw your origin from yet another pair. The human side, provided by Joanna, and the Anubian side, provided by me.”

  I frowned. “That doesn’t make sense.”

  “It doesn’t?”

  “No. If I’m Anubian, why haven't my parents told me?” I lowered my eyes and studied the wood grain of the table. I wanted to look at him, to search his expression for truth. But I couldn’t.

  He began pacing back and forth.

  “Although I loved Joanna, I eventually had to take her to the afterlife,” he said, ignoring my question. “She lived longer than most humans. But I could not save her, nor any of our children. Your humanity made it so. I was broken for many years after her death. Over time, the generations lost knowledge of their origin. I did nothing to impart this knowledge, and, although they instinctively created new generations, they simply no longer know.”

  I laughed. “You’re saying that my parents are related, and they know by instinct to be together?”

  He gave me an affronted look. “There is nothing funny about it. It is the truth.”

  “Mr. Anu.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “My parents fight and bicker. They don’t agree about anything. And you think they came together by instinct?”

  He nodded. “They are unhappy now because they don’t embrace what they are, and they are separated from others like them. They are listless, much as I was when I didn’t serve my purpose. But you know, now. You, Miss Hond. You can embrace what you are and reach your full potential. And I can help you to do that.”

  “How?”

  “I wish to be worshipped once again. I want to serve my purpose and to be happy. I believe that when you’ve reached your full potential, you will be second only to me in your strength. And that you can use that strength to make me powerful.”

  The silence stretched between us. Outside, a cat meowed at the door.

  “This is a lot,” I finally said.

  “Yes. I understand that is so.”

  “What do you need me to do? To make you powerful?”

  His eyes darted away, and he clucked his tongue. “You are getting ahead of yourself. There is so much more that needs to be done before that.”

  “Like what?”

  “We need to find your mate.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “There is another. I can feel him. Together you will produce the power that I need. The power that you need, Miss Hond. I know you wish to be special. I know that you desire acceptance. You don’t want to be mediocre. When you find your other half, you will begin to fully develop.”

  “I —”

  “You need to think about all of this. As I said before, this is a lot to take in. Why don’t I take you home, and we’ll have that dinner with your parents. I shall be charming and respectable, and they will allow you to keep coming here. If that is what you wish.”

  “I can’t promise that’s what I wish,” I said. “Not right now.”

  He nodded. “I understand. Maybe before Saturday we can come to an understanding.”

  “Okay.”

  “Let us go, then.”

  I sat in the truck in silence on the way to my house. We were going to be early for dinner, but Daddy would have a football game on. He would sit with Mr. Anu until it was time to eat.

  Mr. Anu parked his truck on the street in front of my house. “You have a lovely home,” he said.

  “It’s not me you need to convince that you’re charming,” I said.

  He laughed. “That is true.” He was at my door, then, opening it for me. I was going to have to ask him if he had powers. Normal people can’t move at such a speed. Would I be able to do that someday, too?

  He set my bike on the grass, careful not to step on Mother’s mums. The curtain next to the door flicked to one side. Mother was watching. But when I opened the door, she was humming a loud tuneless tune in the kitchen.

  “Mother? I’ve brought Mr. Anu.”

  “Iris,” she said, coming into the foyer. “You’re home a little early. Practice is already over?”

  Mr. Anu slid his eyes at me. I didn’t meet them. “Mr. Anu, this is my mother, Mrs. Hond. Is Daddy home?”

  “It’s lovely to meet you, Mr. Anu. Iris has told us so much
about you.” She put her hand in Mr. Anu’s as if she thought he would kiss it and smiled. He didn’t kiss her hand but returned the smile and bowed slightly.

  “Mrs. Hond.”

  She started to say something, but a timer in the kitchen rang. “Oh. Excuse me, please. Your father is in the living room.”

  Daddy was sitting in his favorite recliner. He held a beer bottle that he was balancing on his stomach, and his eyes were zeroed in on the television.

  “Daddy,” I said, breaking his concentration. “I’d like you to meet Mr. Anu.”

  Daddy started and pushed the chair into its upright position. “Well, hello,” he said jovially. He stood and extended a hand to Mr. Anu. “It’s a pleasure to meet the man who’s teaching my daughter a thing or two about hard work.”

  “The pleasure is mine, Mr. Hond. May I say; you have a lovely home.”

  Daddy grunted. “Call me Clark. And thank you, but the state of our home is all due to Iris’s mother. She’s a terrific homemaker.” He inclined his head towards the television. “Do you like football?”

  “Why, yes, of course. And you may call me Anu,” Mr. Anu said. They sank to a seated position, Daddy back in his chair and Mr. Anu on the sofa, and they locked eyes onto the television as if in a ritualized male trance. “Who is playing tonight?”

  Back in the kitchen, Mother was chopping a cucumber for the salad. “I hope that he likes shepherd’s pie,” she said.

  “He said he usually eats the special at the diner. This should be fine.”

  She fumbled the cucumber and nearly cut into her finger. “Oh, dear.” She set the knife down and took a deep breath. “You didn’t tell me he’s not American, Iris. Where is he from?”

  “Egypt.”

  Her mouth formed a silent ‘oh’. “I wish I’d made something a little fancier.”

  “Mother. It’s fine. He told me his favorite things are hamburgers and meatloaf. He’s not expecting fancy cuisine.”