Afterlife

by Lindsey Fairleigh

  It was Isfet.

  20

  Iusaset bowed its head to me once more, looking exactly like the deity who was the heart and soul of this universe; it had Isfet’s tiny, lithe frame and perfect pixie features, and her featherlight, silver-blonde hair floated around its shoulders and cascaded down its back. Straightening once more, Iusaset turned away from me—away from Carson cowering behind me—and glided around the campfire, toward the First. The mist followed behind Iusaset like the lavish train of a gown.

  I rushed ahead, making a shooing motion at Dom and the others. “Get out of its way,” I told them. “Let it do its thing.”

  Everyone retreated to the cave wall, clearing the way to the First’s bed of furs. Everyone save for Dom. He was staring at Iusaset, his eyes narrowed speculatively.

  I headed straight for my half-brother, and when I reached him, I shoved him toward the others, away from Iusaset. “What are you doing,” I hissed. “Are you nuts?”

  Iusaset might have felt compelled to ally with me, thanks to my connection to Isfet, but none of my companions shared that connection. In fact, I was downright terrified of what would happen if Iusaset got its tentacles—its roots—on Anapa or Re and realized it was their fault that Isfet was trapped in Aaru in the first place.

  Dom didn’t resist as I pushed him around the bed of furs and toward the cave wall beyond it. He also didn’t take his eyes off of Iusaset.

  “What’s your problem?” I asked him, smacking his upper arm with the back of my hand.

  Finally, he broke his one-sided stare with Iusaset and looked at me. There was a haunted cast to his dark eyes. “That is what Isfet looks like?”

  “Yeah . . .” I glanced at Iusaset, brows drawn together. I was at a total loss as to why the illusion of Isfet was throwing him so off-balance.

  But then my eyes widened, and I looked at Dom. Because I got it. I understood.

  Dom was the only one here besides Anapa who’d seen the magical disguise I’d donned weeks ago to go unnoticed at the high school, but Anapa must have seen the resemblance to Isfet from the get-go. Dom was only just now realizing how deep my connection to Isfet truly was. It was impossible to ignore with the illusion of her gliding closer. Because she looked exactly like I had when I’d been hiding behind a stranger’s face. When I’d been hiding behind her face.

  “You alright?” I said to Dom, eyes locked with his. We couldn’t afford for him to lose his shit right now.

  He stared at me, unblinking, for a long moment. But finally, he nodded.

  I returned his nod, then turned my attention back to Iusaset.

  It was closing in on the First, yards—feet—from the bed of furs. Its steps made no sound, and the only noise cutting through the tension was the sound of Carson’s harsh breathing on the far side of the cavern.

  When Iusaset reached the bed, it knelt on the edge of the furs and leaned over the ancient, slumbering man. It reached out one of its delicate hands and placed it on the First’s cheek, then leaned over him, bringing its face close to his.

  “Joju,” it said. This was the first time I’d ever heard it speak, and its sibilant voice was nothing like Isfet’s. The syllables echoed off the cave walls, whispers of the sounds lingering far longer than was natural. It repeated the word, and a memory drifted up from some distant corner of my mind.

  It was his name. Joju was the First’s name.

  I held my breath, my heart pounding in my chest.

  A hush fell over the cave once more as the echo died away. Even Carson was quiet now. He still huddled against the far wall of the cave, but he was as silent as the rest of us.

  Joju’s eyelids fluttered open, and the cavern was filled by the rasp of a collective exhale.

  The First was awake.

  21

  The Beast smiled down at Joju, then stood and took a step backward, looking at me. It bowed its head before retreating into the mist. I was just able to see the illusion of Isfet dissolve into a mass of writhing roots before Iusaset disappeared entirely and the mist pulled back to the stairway.

  I stepped away from the cave wall, cautiously making my way closer to the bed of furs and the disoriented man lying there.

  Joju stared at the mist long after the illusion of Isfet was gone. His face was a mask of confusion, his eyes alight with some strange combination of longing and fear.

  I stopped beside the bed of furs and crouched down, resting my forearms on my thighs. “Joju,” I said quietly.

  Joju started, his attention snapping from the mist to me. His breaths were coming faster now. The fear was winning out.

  I held up my hands, letting him know I was no threat. My lips curved into a tentative smile, and I nodded in greeting. “I’m not going to hurt you,” I said, knowing full well he wouldn’t understand my words. I just hoped he could sense my meaning and feel my sincerity.

  Joju searched my face, his brow furrowing. He stared at me for several long seconds, and then, suddenly, his eyes widened in recognition.

  My eyebrows rose. I hadn’t expected that reaction.

  He propped himself up on his elbows and said something incomprehensible, hand partially upraised and pointing at me.

  I frowned, shaking my head. “I’m sorry,” I said, “I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

  I’d been so focused on the apparently impossible task of waking Joju that, until now, I hadn’t considered the very real communication barrier we would have to work around once he was awake. Getting him to understand what we needed from him—and why—was going to be a massive pain in the ass. It was an effort to keep the annoyance from souring my expression.

  “He says he remembers you,” Re said, moving closer to the foot of the bed of furs.

  I looked at him, eyebrows once again climbing higher. Re could understand Joju. Of course he could, I realized belatedly; Joju was from the first generation of Nejerets, which meant he’d been fathered by Re . . . or by Nuin, the man Re had been possessing at the time. Joju was, more or less, Re’s son.

  Their relationship was an unexpected windfall. All we needed to gain Joju’s trust was for Re to convince him of who he was. Of who, long ago, he had been.

  “He says he saw you in the place of rainbows,” Re continued.

  Duat, I realized—Joju remembered seeing me in Duat. It was both surprising and not. Mine had been the last Nejeret face he’d seen before being sucked into Aaru, but so much time had passed. His memory was nothing short of astounding.

  I flashed Re a grateful smile, relief flooding me. Crisis averted, for once. Good luck wasn’t something I was used to, and it felt somehow impermanent, like the rug might be yanked out from under my feet and this positive turn of events would slip away.

  I turned my smile to Joju. “I remember you, too,” I told him and touched my right hand to my chest. “I’m Kat.” I held my hand out in greeting.

  Joju’s expression turned quizzical, but he pushed up to a sitting position and tentatively placed his hand in mine. The wrong hand, but I could hardly blame the guy. He’d died long before the Western handshake was really a thing.

  I gave his hand a friendly squeeze and offered him another smile, then glanced at Re. “And this is Re.” I returned my focus to Joju. “But I think you’ll remember him by another name—Nuin, your father.”

  Re hesitated before translating my words, and there was no way for me to know exactly what he told Joju, but the emotions that transformed Joju’s expression were unmistakable.

  As Re spoke, Joju stared at him, incredulity slowly giving way to wonder. He laughed suddenly, a jubilant sound, and shook his head. He’d accepted Re’s identity. He’d recognized him as his father.

  “What do you want me to tell him?” Re asked me.

  I looked at Re, then back at Joju.

  Both men were watching me. Waiting on me.

  I licked my lips, then dove straight in. “We need your help, Joju,” I told the ancient Nejeret, waiting for Re to translate before delving int
o the details. I told him everything that was pertinent. I told him that the universe was in danger—that Isfet, his beloved, was in danger—and that freeing Isfet from Aaru was our only hope. I told him I was connected to her, and that I had a way to set her free.

  “We need you to take us there,” I told him, expecting some resistance. I rubbed the back of my neck, attempting to alleviate the increasingly severe ache. My fingers barely made a dent anymore. How much time did Nik and I have left? Days, I wagered, but there was no way to say for sure. “And we need to get there fast,” I added.

  A broad grin spread across Joju’s face when Re translated my words, and he reached out with both hands, capturing one of mine. “Yes,” he said through Re, “I will take you there.”

  I stared at him, eyebrows raised in surprise for the second time in minutes. I couldn’t believe how well this was going. I dared to hope that waking Joju would be the hardest part of this mission—that we’d reached the top of the mountain and everything following would be an easy stroll downhill.

  And then I mentally slapped myself for tempting fate.

  At the sound of a scuffle in a far corner of the cave, I looked away from Joju . . . and found Carson. He was still lurking in the shadows in the deepest, darkest recess of the cave. In all the excitement, I’d forgotten all about him. That realization stunned me beyond words.

  I’d been starved for revenge since the moment Heru killed Carson, robbing me of my vengeance. That hunger had always been with me, skirting around the deepest, darkest recesses of my consciousness, not always my main focus, but always there nonetheless. And now that my revenge was within reach, that hunger should have been all-consuming.

  But it wasn’t.

  I stood slowly, staring at Carson’s pathetic, cowering figure from across the cave. I’d forgotten about him. I’d forgotten about my well-deserved revenge.

  Because what I was involved in now was bigger than personal vendettas. Bigger than any individual. Carson may have killed my mom, but the Mother of All wanted to destroy what remained of her along with everyone else I loved. This was the fate of the entire damn universe, and Carson was just one tiny, scuttling cockroach. He didn’t matter. Not to me. Not anymore.

  At some point during my imprisonment in his dungeon, Carson had lost his power over me. I’d gone from wanting to get my hands on him to make him pay for killing my mom to wanting to incapacitate him so we would be able to get on with the mission.

  I was finally—finally—free.

  I shook my head, laughing softly. Letting go of that grisly hunger left me feeling a thousand pounds lighter, like I might just float away.

  “What should we do about dickwad over there?” Mari asked, coming to stand beside me. A new hunger for revenge burned in her jade-green eyes. I could hardly blame her, after all he’d put her through.

  I let out a dismissive snort. “Leave him for the Beast,” I said, exchanging a sidelong glance with her.

  Iusaset had rummaged through my thoughts and memories enough to know that Carson was a threat to Isfet. There was no way it would just let him go, free to follow us as we journeyed across Aaru in search of the grove. I didn’t know what it would do to him exactly, and I honestly didn’t care. He wasn’t my problem anymore.

  Mari’s wicked grin told me she loved the idea.

  I turned my attention to Joju, who was waiting patiently on his bed of furs. “Are you ready to go?” I asked.

  When Re relayed my question, Joju nodded, climbing to his feet. Based on the light in his eyes, he was more than ready . . . more than eager to be reunited with Isfet.

  I nodded to him, then turned away and headed for the long, narrow staircase carved into the stone.

  The mist parted for me as I climbed the stairs, my companions trailing behind me. My step was the bounciest it had been since entering Aaru, despite the withdrawal pains being more noticeable than ever. The worst was behind us.

  It had to be.

  22

  Over the next few hours, we passed through three different anchor points, taking us to three very different sections of Aaru, no problems and minimal waiting. We were currently hiking along a trail through an alpine meadow that looked like it belonged in some fantastical world one could only reach through an enchanted wardrobe.

  Up ahead, the trail split. Joju took the right fork, leading us closer to the stream that cut a lazily curving path through the field of tall grasses and wildflowers. The water burbled cheerfully, a hypnotic accompaniment to the chorus of chirping birds and softly rustling grass.

  I trudged along behind Joju, boots feeling like they weighed a hundred pounds each and eyes glued to the trail ahead, diligently searching for any sign of a stone archway.

  As I walked, I added up the time I’d been in Aaru as best I could. I estimated it had been about three earth days since I escaped from the Netjer universe, which meant I’d been away from Nik for well over a week. The severity of the bonding withdrawals supported that estimate.

  My head pounded nonstop, and my whole body ached, like I was coming down with a bout of the flu and dealing with bone-deep growing pains all at once. Our hourly transdimensional check-ins did nothing to ease the aches and pains caused by our separation. With every passing hour, it was more of an effort to push through the pain and concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other.

  But walking was better than stopping. Each time we paused at an archway to wait for the anchor points to shift, the unrelenting discomfort pulled me deeper and deeper into a pained daze. I couldn’t help but wonder if Nik had reached the point where the withdrawals were causing him to lose consciousness. Not according to our last few check-ins, but there was always the chance that Nik was lying to me.

  I sighed, raising a hand to brush a few flyaways back. I was beat. The trail followed a gentle incline, but it was nothing that would’ve worn me out normally. At this point, I was ready for this all to be over. I was ready to give myself over to Isfet, if only to rest for a little while. An eternity of peace sounded just about right.

  The trail veered closer to the stream until we were walking directly alongside it. From the looks of it, the trail followed the stream to a small waterfall maybe a quarter of a mile away. The water dropped some fifteen feet, splashing into a peaceful, crystalline pool surrounded by huge, mossy boulders and a few stray pine trees. The closer we drew, the more apparent it became that the trail we were following ended at the waterfall.

  When Joju was mere paces away from the edge of the pool, he held a hand up, telling the rest of us to stop. To wait. He paused only for a moment, then stepped closer to the pool, looking like he had no intention of stopping. He didn’t.

  He walked straight into the pool of water, ripples spreading out behind him as he first waded, then swam his way across to the waterfall.

  “What’s he doing?” I said, exchanging a look with Re as I moved closer to the edge of the pool. “Ask him what he’s doing.”

  But before Re could even open his mouth, Joju dove beneath the surface of the pool, vanishing from sight. I took me a few seconds to realize that the anchor point must’ve been hidden behind the waterfall.

  Joju reemerged a moment later and gracefully made his way back to the edge of the pool. “We must wait,” he said as he climbed out of the pool, his bad news delivered through Re.

  “But—” I shook my head, looking from him to Dom and the others, then back to Joju. We’d passed through the last three anchor points without pause. Surely Joju had to know a route to the grove that didn’t include stopping and waiting. “But why?” I asked, desperate for him to realize he’d been wrong.

  Re pressed his lips together.

  “Ask him,” I demanded. “Ask him why we have to wait!” I felt like a junkie jonesing for her next hit, except the source of my addiction didn’t even exist in this place. The only way to find relief was to keep going.

  I could feel the others’ eyes on me, but I ignored their stares.

  “Little sis
ter,” Dom said, resting his hand on my shoulder and moving to stand before me. “You know why. We must wait until the correct path is open to us. Joju understands our urgency. He is taking us to the grove as quickly as possible. Moving for the sake of moving will not get us there any faster.” He gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Sit. Rest. Nik will be checking in soon. Perhaps that will take the edge off.”

  I searched Dom’s eyes, his irises a gray so dark it was almost black, and my panic slowly abated. My shoulders slumped, and I let Dom lead me to a boulder near the edge of the pool, not resisting when he pushed down on my shoulders and told me to sit.

  “What section of Aaru are we waiting for, exactly?” Mari asked, easing down to kneel on a patch of thick moss a few yards away from my boulder. She lowered her hand into the water, tracing her fingers along the surface. Her eyebrows rose, and she looked at me. “The water’s pretty warm, Kat. Soaking in it might help ease the withdrawal symptoms a bit . . . or at least give you another sensation to think about.”

  I glanced at Joju, who was speaking with Re, likely answering Mari’s question. “Hopefully we won’t be here long enough to make it worth it,” I said, voice monotone.

  Re said something to Joju, like he was confirming what Joju had told him. Joju nodded and, finally, Re looked at Mari. “We’ll be here until the anchor point connects with a place Joju calls ‘Sky Mountain,’” Re explained. He shifted his focus to me, sympathy shining in his eyes. “He says it’s three shifts away.”

  “Three shifts,” I repeated, heart sinking. Unless those shifts were within minutes of each other, we would be here for a while.

  Mari withdrew her hand from the pool. “How long should that take?” she asked.

  Re took a deep breath and held it, hesitating. “Four hours,” he said on his exhale. “Maybe five.”

  My head drooped forward, and I squeezed my eyes shut, unintentionally pushing a tear free.

  “Well,” Mari said, “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m getting in the water. The temperature is perfect.”