Felicity turned to Zachariah. “That was brilliant!” she whispered. “Oxford and Cambridge have always had an intense rivalry. But how did you know the Dean’s name?”
Zachariah shrugged. “A plaque in the main foyer.”
Dynah frowned. “I would think that England would be a bit more evolved about the status of women! And here I thought Hawk’s Hollow was old-fashioned.”
“You just probably didn’t have occasion to seek access to something that men like to keep to themselves,” Felicity said. “Plus, out west they are less concerned about rules and propriety. Things are much more difficult in high society. I know from traveling with my parents.”
“Well. That’s just silly.” Dynah crossed her arms over her chest.
“I daresay that becoming a Rider has turned you into quite a rebel,” Felicity said with a small smile. “Not three weeks ago you were waiting to marry Billy the cowboy and make as many babies as possible.”
Dynah harrumphed. “And it’s made you a good bit mouthier.”
They broke into grins but were interrupted a moment later by the return of the librarian, followed by a boy that looked not much older than twelve. He stared at them with wide brown eyes and a mop of mousy brown hair.
“Jacob, take our visitors to the Egyptian section,” the librarian said.
The boy nodded and led them away. They walked across the first floor, and then climbed a set of stairs to the second. Jacob led them to a remote corner with a small table. Books of Egyptian lore surrounded them.
“Do you need anything else?” Jacob asked.
“I wonder if there might be any scholars here at Oxford that specialize in Egypt?” Felicity asked. Seeing Jacob’s confused look, she added, “For my employer to discuss his research, of course.” She gestured toward Zachariah.
“Professor Willoughby would probably be the best,” Jacob said. “I can see if he’s about today.” His eyes shone brightly. “I’m sure he’d be happy to talk to a colleague from Cambridge.”
“Delightful,” Zachariah said. “Much appreciated.”
The boy beamed and headed off. No sooner had he turned away than Zachariah fell into what Felicity had come to realize was his classic scowl. She sat down at the table and pulled out Sekhmet’s book. A shiver moved through her as she touched the cool stone surface. She opened it to the spell that had revealed itself to her in the temple. Dynah came to stand by her shoulder.
“It’s this here, right?” Dynah asked, pointing to the lettering on the page, her fingers brushing over the papyrus. “And you can still read it?”
Felicity nodded. She had worried at first that her strange ability to read the hieroglyphs was merely the result of the magic in Sekhmet’s temple mingling with her own, and that once she left, she’d no longer be able to interpret what it said. But she’d looked at it many times since that night, and as always, when her eyes focused on the symbols, they morphed and rearranged themselves into lettering that she could read.
“Here, I’ll write it down so we can both work on it,” Felicity said.
She found paper, pens, and an ink well at a nearby table, and she began to translate the Egyptian symbols into English. It felt good to pick up a pen again, even if not to write one of her stories.
“There,” she said a few minutes later when she was finished.
Dynah leaned over her, her red hair falling next to Felicity’s cheekbone. Felicity couldn’t help but breathe in the floral scent of it. Dynah stretched a pale finger over the words on the page.
“Spell to Transform Dark to Light,” she murmured. And then she recited the rest of it aloud. “Perform the ritual when the moon is dark and half zenith. Make a circle of stones, half lapis obsidianus and half clear quartz. Burn the oil of the son and the herb of the goddess together, then cover the body of the spellmaker in it from crown to heel. A sacrifice must be made with a malachite athame. The spellmaker then reads the spell aloud.”
Dynah straightened and looked down at Felicity. “Almost none of that makes sense to me. How can a moon be dark? And what’s an athame? And what about the oil and the herb? Also, you didn’t write down the spell itself.”
Felicity sighed. “Now you understand why we’re here.” She moved her hand over to Sekhmet’s book. “As for the spell itself, it cannot be read in English. That’s why I didn’t translate it.”
“But you can say the words aloud?”
“Yes.” Felicity took a breath. “That is, if I’m pronouncing them correctly.”
“If?”
“Pronunciation is crucial in performing spells,” Zachariah added.
Felicity grit her teeth. “Well, we can add that to the list of things we need to figure out.”
“This is impossible!” Dynah said.
“Well, I should hardly think it’s meant to be easy,” Felicity hissed. “It’s a very powerful spell. But worth it if we can reverse the Apocalypse, don’t you think?”
Dynah fell silent, and her cheeks blushed. “Yes. Apologies.”
“We just need to break each of the parts down and figure out what they mean,” Felicity said. “And then how we locate the items.”
“If they still exist,” Zachariah said.
Felicity glared at him. “Are you going to help us, or are you just going to be a negative Nelly?”
Zachariah’s lips pressed into a thin line and he walked off sulkily into the corner of the room. Felicity rolled her eyes. She really didn’t understand why they had to have a Fallen escort at all.
“While we wait for news from Jacob about the professor, let’s start searching for some of these terms,” Felicity said. “Dynah, you work on the dark moon. Half zenith just means it has risen halfway to the high point of the sky.” She frowned. “Though how one is supposed to know exactly the halfway point, I’m not sure. So maybe look for that, too. I’ll work on the oil of the son and the herb of the goddess.”
“So, we just start opening books and looking through them all?” Dynah asked, eyes wide as she scanned the shelves around them.
“Look for titles that discuss ritualistic practices or things like that,” Felicity said. “At least until Jacob comes back, hopefully with good news.”
Felicity got up from the table, carrying Sekhmet’s book with her. She wove between the rows of books, fingers brushing over their spines, eyes roving over titles. Casting a glance behind her, she could see Dynah doing the same. Zachariah still stood in the corner, ignoring them. The library was so hushed that when she turned down a row of shelves and they fell from sight, it almost felt like she was completely alone.
She wandered down a row against the exterior wall. A warmth began to spread through the fingers of her left hand. Felicity looked down. Sekhmet’s book was glowing slightly from within, light seeping out around the edges. Her heart began to pound in her chest. Was the book trying to guide her to others that would help them interpret it? It wasn’t entirely impossible. After all, she shouldn’t have been able to find Sekhmet’s hidden library or read the book at all, but she had done so.
Felicity stopped and leaned against the nearest bookshelf. With trembling hands, she cracked open the cover of the book, very slowly, in case the glow from within came pouring out. The glow did not, however, shoot out of the book.
When she opened it, she saw that the light came from a single shining spark that floated up off the pages. It looked almost like a firefly. It flew up, around and around, hovering before her eyes. Felicity watched it in wonderment, her lips parted in surprise.
That’s when the spark shot directly into her mouth, and everything faded away.
Chapter Ten
Penelope
The sun bled from the sky like an open wound, red and angry. Penelope could relate. She felt raw, darkness pressing in on her. All day they had searched for people who could point them in the direction of Sahkyo’s mountain, but they had only come upon town after town ravaged by the Apocalypse.
“We should stop for the night. Get some re
st,” Arialle said.
“The longer we take, the longer the Apocalypse continues,” Penelope responded. Her voice felt dry and ragged in her throat.
“Agreed,” Willow said, looking over her shoulder at the town they’d most recently visited. Her face was streaked with dust and soot.
“Well,” Arialle said, “I appreciate your steadfastness, but you do have to sleep at some point. Plus, we can’t search for this mountain in the dark, unless you have some magical night vision I’m unaware of.”
Penelope and Willow stayed sullenly silent.
“I didn’t think so.” The Fallen made a gesture. “Let’s head south a bit further and find a place to stop.”
A couple of hours later they had a small camp set up. Rabbit and cactus roasted on spits over a fire, and as a safety precaution Penelope had woven a dome of night around them, so they couldn’t be seen from the outside. Though she couldn’t do anything to keep the smoke from escaping out the top. Arialle had left briefly to check in with Beziel and had brought back grain and water for the horses.
As they began to eat their dinner, Willow leaned back against a rock and examined the pistol she’d found in one of the abandoned towns. It was a Colt Army Model like the one she’d had before. She’d fashioned herself a rugged new blade as well from a scrap piece of metal. After a couple minutes she set them down and looked over at Arialle. “So, what’s your story, Fallen?”
Arialle, who sat across the fire, pulled her spine up even straighter than it already was. “My story?”
“Why did you Fall? And when?”
“Willow!” Penelope exclaimed. “That’s quite personal.”
Willow shrugged and stuck a piece of meat into her mouth. To Penelope’s surprise, Arialle shrugged as well, albeit a significantly more elegant gesture than that of her friend.
“I don’t mind.” The Fallen looked up into the sky for a moment. She wasn’t sharing their meal. Penelope wasn’t sure if it was because the Fallen didn’t eat, or merely because she wasn’t hungry enough to eat something this rustic. “There’s not much to tell.”
Penelope waited, watching the Fallen across the fire. In the dark of night, her golden eyes glowed even brighter, like newly minted coins. Her spear was propped up against one of the horse’s saddles, and it glinted in the light from the flames.
“I didn’t Fall that long ago. Only twenty years now.” She looked across the fire at each of them in turn. “A simple story really: I disobeyed. Just as you four did.”
There was obviously more to the story, but Penelope didn’t want to pry. She was, however, curious about how all of that worked up in Heaven. “So, just one disobedience and you Fall? Just like that?”
“It depends on the seriousness of the insubordination,” Arialle said. “You might get a second chance if your lack of compliance was accidental, or for something minor.”
Willow whistled. “Absolute obedience. I would not make a good angel.” She chuckled and took a swig of water from the canteen Arialle had brought them.
“It really still puzzles me why Heaven chose us in the first place,” Penelope said. She chewed thoughtfully on a piece of cooked cactus, then swallowed.
“Power typically corrupts,” Arialle said. “They never dreamed you’d risk losing it. Risk dying for humanity.”
“I’m not doing this for humanity,” Willow said. “I’m doing this for my sisters. So we can be free.”
She cut her jade gaze over to Penelope for just a moment, then took another pull from the canteen. Penelope felt the hot sting of tears at the corners of her eyes, and her throat tightened. They didn’t say anything further as they finished eating, and then exhaustion tugged them into a deep sleep.
The moon had risen high overhead when Penelope woke abruptly. She wasn’t sure what had awoken her. Willow slept soundly next to her, sprawled flat on her back, hat over her face. Arialle slept, too, her head on the saddle next to her spear. The night was still and quiet.
Except for the sound of approaching footsteps, soft in the sand.
Penelope rose to her feet in an instant, and her mouth opened to cry out a warning to Willow and Arialle, but the sound turned to a strangled gasp as she saw who walked toward her.
Atsa.
He stopped a dozen feet away, bathed in moonlight. High, sharp cheekbones, long ebony hair. He wore a necklace of bone and turquoise over his woven tunic. Penelope’s breath caught in her chest. She’d always thought he was beautiful, but now an aura of magic hummed about him and he almost seemed to glow.
“How are you here?” she asked, her words trembling in the cool night air. “How did you escape from Spider Woman’s realm?”
“I didn’t escape, Haseya,” he said, and his use of her Navajo name sent a shiver up her spine. “I’m dream traveling.”
“Dream traveling?” Penelope went still. “But this—this isn’t a dream. I’m awake.”
“Yes, you are awake.” His brown eyes burned into hers. “Inside my dream.”
She shook her head. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Does magic ever really make sense?”
Penelope thought about this for a moment, then shook her head.
“The realm of dreams is a place that can be traveled just like the earth realm, if you know how,” Atsa explained.
A wind blew from the north and slid across Penelope’s skin. She looked down at Willow, and over at Arialle. She didn’t understand how she could stand here, awake, but inside a dream. Her fingertips tingled in the magic surrounding them, and she wrapped her arms around herself. It was so thick she could taste it. Sage, like Nascha’s hogan, and something else that reminded her of flying in the clouds. Something of water and sky.
“I’ve been planning to rescue you,” she said, looking back up at him. Her lower lip trembled. “But we’re not strong enough yet. We still can’t control our powers very well.”
“I can see that you’ve done something here with the night.” Atsa cast his gaze around, his eyes following the shape of her dome. “That’s not magic from the Riders, is it?”
She shook her head. “No. We’re not sure where we got it.”
“We? It’s not just you? I would have thought it was your Navajo magic.”
“Not unless I can share it.”
“Maybe you can,” he said with a shrug. “You are connected to the others, are you not?”
Penelope felt a ripple of surprise. Could it be as simple as that?
“Listen—I don’t want you to worry about rescuing me,” Atsa said. “You have a world to save. Now that I can travel in the dream realm, it’s not so terrible.”
“I will come for you, Atsa.” Penelope walked closer, so they were only a couple feet apart. “You saved us. You brought us to Spider Woman, and thus back to ourselves. I will never give up until you’re free again.”
He smiled, then reached out and took her hand. His fingers felt cool against her skin, not warm as flesh should be, but she could feel it. Even though they were in a dream. Another shiver moved over her.
“I can teach you how to access this realm, too,” he said. “Until that time comes.”
The wind blew again, and Atsa’s form began to fade, as if he were mist drifting away. Penelope could no longer feel his fingers around hers. “Atsa?!” she asked, breathy and panicked.
“I’m still learning,” he said, and his voice sounded far away, as if he called across a canyon. “I can’t stay in this realm for long.”
He was almost completely gone now. Only the faintest outline of his body remained.
“I understand.” She nodded slowly. “Atsa…” Penelope felt the soft brush of fingers down the side of her cheek. “Come back to me.”
But he was already gone.
Chapter Eleven
Dynah
They’d spent the last few hours combing through books. Jacob had returned after the first hour and told them the professor they needed wasn’t available, which had certainly deflated the mood. Felici
ty, who had been downright jubilant about their research earlier in the day, had lapsed into a strange silence, barely speaking at all. When she did speak, she said only the bare minimum.
Dynah had begun to wonder if she’d done something to offend her. Or maybe—and this was much more likely—Felicity had realized that Dynah was really no good at this kind of thing. She’d come to realize since meeting Felicity that her fellow Rider was quite the scholar. But books just weren’t something Dynah had ever put much care or attention toward. She’d never needed to before. And now she felt woefully out of her depth with the task at hand. It wasn’t just that they needed this spell to reverse their powers and the Apocalypse. She also worried that Felicity might think less of her.
She was chewing the nail of her index finger, hunched over a book titled Ancient Egyptian Celestial Ceremonies, when Jacob returned to tell them that the library was closing for the evening.
“I’m sorry, but you’ll have to return in the morning,” Jacob said.
He ushered them out, as if not trusting that they’d leave on their own. Zachariah followed behind. Between the dark cloud of his mood and Felicity’s own downtrodden attitude, Dynah felt very challenged to remain optimistic about their plan.
Things only got worse when they reached the front desk.
“I happened upon the Dean’s assistant earlier,” said the librarian, “and they don’t recall any visitors from Cambridge on the schedule.” He sneered. “I’m afraid I must revoke your invitation for future visits.”
Dynah looked over to Felicity, expecting something sensible and perhaps feisty to come out of her mouth, but she just looked at the man, her face strangely emotionless. Her eyes seemed almost glassy.
“Well, I’m afraid that just won’t do!” Dynah said, pulling herself up as tall as she could and smacking her hand down on the mahogany desk.
“It certainly will,” Zachariah said. “Apologies for my assistant. She is… passionate I’m afraid.”
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