“She cries.”
Harouk threw him an annoyed glare. Silas sighed.
“Things are more complicated than you think, Harouk. Since you left the council, there’s been a lack of balance. Michael rules over the armies, Raphael listens to what he says, and Gabriel… Gabriel can only cry over the consequences of their decisions.”
“What do you mean? What consequences?”
“I don’t know what secrets she keeps,” he admitted. “I only serve her.”
“So you don’t serve one master but another,” concluded Harouk, walking away. “I don’t see how that is supposed to change my mind.”
“Harouk, don’t disturb her.”
“Gabriel!”
He stopped a few paces from the island, his breath short. Every movement was hard.
“Harouk,” said Silas, joining him, “you can’t speak to an Archangel like this!”
Gabriel raised a hand, and Silas stopped talking. She rose graciously, placed the carafe on the ground, and walked in the water until she was facing Harouk. His anger dissipated when he saw the sadness in her eyes.
She wiped her cheeks covered in tears and brought her hands close to his face.
“Her tears can heal,” whispered Silas. “Trust her.”
Harouk nodded abruptly. Gabriel placed her hands on his cheeks and softly brushed his closed eyelids with her thumbs.
Harouk was filled with a profound sadness that ripped his heart in two. He swayed. Gabriel opened her arms and held him, never flinching despite his considerable weight.
When he came back to awareness, he was crying too. Silas pressed a hand on his shoulder.
“Is your memory back? What did you see?”
Harouk turned away from them both, shaking his head.
“No—no! I shouldn’t be here! I can’t have my memories back! I should be chained to that door!”
“Harouk…”
“I killed them! Thousands of humans are dead by my hand! I drowned their crops, their cattle. I destroyed their cities and their temples!”
“What are you talking about?”
“The war against the demons!” he shouted, turning back to them. “Don’t you remember? Centuries of fighting, countless losses! Our believers were being eradicated, and us with them! Silas, tell me you remember how we won against Hell!”
“I know we fought, but… No, I can’t remember our victory.”
“The great flood,” whispered Harouk. “We decided to exterminate the demon’s believers.”
“Demons don’t have believers.”
“Not anymore.”
He turned to Gabriel. “You were the only one who opposed us. I should have listened. I need you to chain me up and make me forget what I can do.”
Gabriel shook her head.
“You have to! I just lost control of a storm! If Michael hadn’t stopped me, I would have started another flood!”
Faced with Gabriel’s silence, he gave up. Speaking was exhausting.
“You don’t even have the power to create a drizzle,” said Silas. “Your wings took most of the damage.”
Harouk lifted one from the water and winced. The feathers were dark and twisted. He could still feel Michael’s fire. He placed it back and sighed in relief.
“Most of them are burned,” said Silas with a frown. “I don’t think you can fly, for now. Stay underwater for a few more days. The water should appease your pain and build your strength back.”
“...The water?”
“Her tears. The ones she cried for every mortal and every Celestial that suffered at our hands.”
Gabriel gently grabbed Harouk’s shoulder and pulled him down until she could kiss his brow. He felt the turmoil inside his head calm down.
“I can’t stay,” he murmured. “I have to…”
She nodded. He held her, like an old friend.
“I will come back,” he said. “I will make it right. Someday, you won’t have to keep the silence on their secrets anymore.”
She hugged him back fiercely. He stepped away and walked towards the shore. After three steps, he faltered. Silas took his arm, passed it behind his head, and started walking with him.
“You’re still weak,” he admonished.
“Good. I don’t want to lose control and drown the desert.”
“Should I infer that we’re going back to Egypt?”
“We? Presumptuous of you to assume you’re coming too.”
“You can’t fly, and you can barely walk in water. Do you even know where we are?”
“All right, we are going to Egypt. Happy?”
“You’re free, Harouk,” said Silas, gently, as he helped him climb the rocky banks. “There are no chains or obligations holding you back.”
Harouk rolled his eyes but let himself be led to the cavern entrance.
“When Dewei comes back with Naími, you’re the one who’s telling her we left the princess defenseless.”
Silas nodded, conceding the point.
* * *
The sun rose over the desert. Bastet, kneeling on the highest hill, dug her fingers in the sand and muttered incantations.
A breeze rose and died almost instantly. Bastet tried with more fervor, again and again, but was only able to create weak gusts of wind.
“When you snuck out of the feast, I thought you were going to meet your Olympian lover.”
“Hathor,” greeted Bastet without opening her eyes.
Hathor kneeled at her side. The morning light shone over her horns.
“In what kind of trouble are you?” she asked.
“None,” answered Bastet vehemently. “I owe you my allegiance, but that doesn’t mean I have to tell you all my secrets.”
“My dear, I thought we were friends.”
“...Yes, of course. Forgive me. I am—I have a debt. One that I have to repay today, but I just can’t manage to do it. And I can’t fail.”
Hathor waited.
Faced with her silence, Bastet grew defensive. “I did what had to be done. I had to get Anubis out of Hell—”
“You made a pact with a demon?” interrupted Hathor. “Foolish girl. You knew you didn’t have to bring him back. The council would have been happy to let him freeze in Hell.”
“I wouldn’t.”
“You’re making the same mistake again, my dear. Putting yourself in debt for people who don’t deserve it. Wasn’t the first time enough? When will you learn?”
Hathor grabbed a handful of sand and let it fall. A strong wind rose and lifted their hair and the fabric of their dresses, to die as quickly. Bastet frowned.
“I can help you,” said Hathor.
“I’m already at your service. What else could you need?”
“I have a delicate mission for you. You would be alone. You wouldn’t be able to return to the oasis for a long time.”
“You’re asking for a lot, in exchange for a mere sandstorm.”
“I also know where Anubis is.”
Bastet jumped to her feet, furious.
“You’re using him to bargain? I thought you were above this!”
“Calm yourself. I just learned about it recently. The price Set demanded for that information was expensive, I can’t give it to you for nothing. Do you accept the mission?”
“Do I even have a choice? Yes, all right.”
“How long must this sandstorm last?”
“Until sundown.”
Hathor took a new handful of sand and let it slowly fall through her fingers. “You can’t give orders to the desert. It has existed since the beginning of the world and will be there long after we are gone.”
There was a breeze. Bastet closed her fists, nails digging in her palms.
“Anubis is in the Valley of the Kings,” said Hathor. “In the most recent tomb.”
Bastet changed back into her cat form and ran. She crossed the desert, jumping from hill to hill. All around her, the wind rose, powerful, menacing.
She reached the necrop
olis before the storm and found the last grave. She changed back into her natural form, half-human, half cat. She pushed aside the flat stone that had needed ten human men to be moved.
There were stairs descending into the darkness. She ran down, paying no attention to the beautifully painted walls, crossed a landing, then another set of stairs. The heat of the day slowly changed into something cool and stagnant. There was a light, at the bottom.
The last room, lit by many torches, was full of precious objects. A massive stone sarcophagus laid in the middle. Anubis was sprawled against it, on the floor, holding a cup.
“...Bastet?” he muttered, his voice hoarse.
He stank like sweat and mold. His skin was dry; his cheeks, hollow; his hair fell lifelessly. The white of his eyes was now red, and his nails were encrusted in dried blood.
“Bastet!” he smiled. “Come share a cup with my friend, King Ramses! I told him everything about you, how you broke my heart and spat on my trust! He was impatient to meet you!”
“You’re drunk,” she said, relieved. “I thought you were dead.”
“Oh, how I wished. But sweet death never came for me. And I worked in her name for so many years! She betrayed me, like you betrayed me! Harlots, both of you!”
“I came to get you out of here.”
“To sell me to the highest bidder, again? If so, then leave now. No! No, stay. I hate you, but I’m bored…”
Bastet kneeled next to him.
“How are you?”
“I’m thirsty,” he whimpered. “These humans buried their king with dozens of jars full of the best wine in Egypt, but not a single one of water.”
“Come, get up. Once you’re out, you can drink the Nile.”
“And grains! So he can plant them in the afterlife! Only grain in the jars, Bastet! Have you ever eaten raw barley? And to mock me, they painted a feast on the walls!”
She helped him climb the steps, one by one.
“...I like this king. He took days to die, threw himself off the balcony. Even his children weren’t there to see him croak, poor guy. But he still kept me company in this box…”
Bastet.
She shivered in fear. Anubis kept talking, giving no impression he had heard the voice.
You filled your part of the contract, said the voice with satisfaction. Stay in this tomb during the storm, and I’ll leave you alone, you and the ones you stole from me.
She nodded and helped Anubis sit.
“What? No! I want to leave this place!”
“The storm is too strong. We have to wait,” she said, joining him. “Don’t worry. I’ll get you out of here.”
“...I’m an idiot for trusting you again,” he whined. “You lie. You always lie.”
He fell asleep, head on her shoulder. Outside, the wind howled.
Chapter 20
The Sacred River
Silas and Harouk reached the Egyptian capital slightly after sunrise. Harouk had regained enough strength to fly on his own most of the way, but he had grown tired and had to be carried. It was awkward, since he was so much larger and heavier, but Silas kept on flying relentlessly.
“The wind is acting strangely,” warned Silas. “I feel something chaotic around us.”
Harouk looked back and saw a dark cloud over the desert.
“A sandstorm!”
They reached the palace grounds. Silas turned towards the princess’s quarters, but Harouk slapped his shoulder repeatedly.
“There! On the esplanade!”
As always, there was a steady flow of people coming and going from the palace. They were all subconsciously avoiding a specific space near the front steps, where two silhouettes lay on the ground, unconscious. One had pure white wings; the other, charcoal black.
Harouk jumped from Silas’s back before they even landed. He went to Dewei and shook him awake.
“What… Harouk?” muttered Dewei. “Where are we?”
“In Egypt, surprisingly,” laughed Harouk. “I thought you were in Limbo!”
Dewei sat, wincing. “I was. For decades.”
“Decades? But it’s been—Silas, how long was I underwater?”
“Forty-three days,” answered Silas, kneeling next to the other angel.
“...Huh. All right. Well, at least it’s not decades. How did you even leave?”
“I… I walked. I just walked. I was with—oh! Terathel!”
He searched for the other angel and winced when he found her. She was lying on her stomach, wings akimbo. They had been white at one point but were now charred black.
They carefully turned her around and were all startled to see her face. It looked familiar but was wrong, softer, paler. A great part of her skin sported bright red burn marks.
“Her wounds look like yours, Harouk,” noted Silas.
Harouk touched his own face and winced in pain. “Do you think Michael did it too?”
“Normal fire can’t burn our wings.”
Dewei took her hand.
“Naí—Terathel? We did it. We’re not in Limbo anymore.”
She opened her eyes and immediately started screaming. She scratched her face frantically, until Dewei grabbed her hands.
“No! Please, let me go! I’ll do everything you want!”
“Terathel! Help me hold her down, before she—”
She tried to beat her wings until Harouk and Silas held them to the ground. She twisted like a snake, howling in pain. Around them, humans kept walking, neither seeing nor hearing the scene.
“Maybe we shouldn’t immobilize her,” Silas suggested.
“She’s going to scratch her face off if I release her!” said Dewei.
“Not the light! Please, no!”
“Her eyes! Cover her eyes!”
Silas stretched his wings above them, but it barely covered the sun. Harouk grabbed her bodily with one arm and used the other to place the inside of his elbow over her eyes. She stopped screaming and started whimpering instead.
Dewei was growing frantic. “Terathel, it’s us. We’ll bring you somewhere dark, but you need to promise you won’t hurt yourself. Harouk, can you help her—”
“I would do anything!” she shouted. “Anything you want!”
“Good. We’re going to carry you inside.”
“I want the pain to stop! Please!”
“Yes, we’ll find a way to—”
“Yes, until sundown. I accept—I accept!”
Silas frowned. “You’re not the one she’s talking to.”
She breathed out, and all fight left her in a great sigh. Harouk felt her grow lax in his arms and, strangely, colder. He helped her stand.
“Who were you talking to?” asked Silas, worried.
She looked at the three of them. Her eyes were identical to Naími’s but held none of their warmth. She looked around at the palace grounds, and then down, and smiled.
There was a dark red stain at her feet, old blood that couldn’t be washed off. It was the exact spot where Naími had been beheaded.
“Tera—”
She flew off without a warning.
* * *
Sethy strode through the back gardens, dressed in a travel cloak, head and face covered. Pamiu followed closely. The soldiers of the king’s close guard had also changed into common clothes and tried to look inconspicuous. The oncoming storm had chased everyone inside. Only the gardeners remained, hastily covering the most delicate plants to protect them.
The king and his followers reached the empty docks. While the soldiers prepared a small hunting ship, their captain looked at the sky, worried.
“Your majesty, I’ll have to plead with you once more,” he said. “They will be hiding from the storm, too, and the river isn't safe. We could wait this out.”
“Go help your men and don’t oppose my orders again,” said the king.
Pamiu waited for the captain to turn away before subtly touching Sethy’s hand and caught his eye. “You do well to remind them who’s in charge, Sethy.
Be calm and don’t lose sight of your goal. We have to find Soromeh at all costs.”
The Celestial Conspiracies Page 30