by Jay Bell
Here in the pyramid’s inner sanctum, a number of cats made their home. The felines were everywhere, lounging in fur-lined beds, lurking at the tops of shelves, or peering out of small cat-sized tunnels in the wall. W hen they saw a priest respectfully step aside to allow a cat to pass, it became clear that the cats were treated as royalty.
B olo was terribly tempted by all he saw. J ohn said his name in warning tones, the poor dog whimpering and fighting to obey against his instincts. E ventually overcome, B olo broke rank, racing toward a S iamese cat carrying a ki en in its mouth. The feline obviously hadn’t seen a natural predator in many centuries, for it simply stared in wonder instead of fleeing.
“B olo, no!” J ohn cried out, wishing desperately for a leash. His arm almost jerked out of its socket as the leash went taut, B olo’s front paws airborne momentarily as he was yanked backward.
J ohn stared. He would have let go of the leash he was now holding had it not been wrapped tightly around his hand, just as he had envisioned. The leash matched the one belonging to his childhood dog, even down to the same worn leather. I f he checked the matching collar on B olo’s neck, J ohn wouldn’t be at all surprised to find the name “Dipsy” stamped into the rawhide.
“Nice one,” Dante said, producing a lit cigare e from thin air. “I knew you’d get the hang of it eventually.”
J ohn felt as though he had performed a miracle, but Dante had already lost interest and R immon appeared amused. J ohn wished he had more time to experiment. W hat else could he create? What else did he need?
The chamber O siris led them to might have been large, but the treasure, art, and servants that filled every available space made it appear small. Two mammoth statues of pharaohs sat stiffly at the far end of the room, their heads touching the ceiling.
B etween them was a throne, occupied by a skinny man whose lazy posture was the opposite of the statues’.
The court was filled with gods. W ith only a few exceptions, each had the head of an animal. R eptilian, canine, and avian eyes all focused on J ohn and his friends as they entered. Human emotions lurked eerily behind each gaze, sly and suspicious rather than the frank honesty of animals. The auras of each god reached toward J ohn, overwhelming him with names and histories, so he turned his a ention back toward the man on the throne. His soul didn’t carry the divine presence of the deities assembled before him.
The man’s eyebrows were raised expectantly until O siris formally announced him.
“His majesty Pharaoh Den, the embodiment of Ra.”
E very being present turned to face the throne before falling on both knees. J ohn followed suit, B olo licking his face excitedly as if this were all just a game. The embodiment of R a? J ohn pondered this as their names were announced. He thought he understood. W hile living, the pharaoh would have been considered the earthly incarnation of the chief god, but in the afterlife there was li le sense to this. I f this man were Ra, would they still be trapped in eternal night?
J ust as everyone else stood again, B olo decided to sit. J ohn held back a chuckle as he was addressed by the pharaoh.
“Your skin is so very pale,” Den said. “O nly once before have I seen one of your kind, from lands far away. I remember feeling surprised that day, to learn that the E gyptian E mpire had borders. I had thought the entire world to be Egypt. Now I find myself equally perplexed to learn that there is another religion.” T ons of them, J ohn almost said, but the gods around him shifted. He glanced over at the nearest to meet piercing falcon eyes. Horus, sky god, master of war, and the god of kings. No E gyptian deity was more important, aside from R a, and his powerful thoughts had a presence of their own.
The existence of other religions was no secret to Horus, but the sudden pressure in the room insisted that J ohn humor the pharaoh. For negotiation purposes, he supposed Hell should be acknowledged; P urgatory too, since speaking of an alliance would be impossible otherwise.
“Tell me again,” Den said. “W hat is the name of this place where men are white and dogs are revered in place of cats?”
“Hell,” John said.
“And this man who is red and horned like a goat, where is he from?”
“Also Hell. We come in all colors there.” J ohn thought a moment about history.
“But most devils are white.”
“Ah. Is color indicative of class? Is this goat man your servant?”
“No. R immon is Hell’s ambassador, a native to his pantheon. I only represent the mortal men who travel to his realm in death.” There. L et R immon do all the work this time.
The pharaoh, unabashed at having mistaken an ambassador for a servant, turned his attention to Rimmon. “Were you well treated on your journey here?”
“Of course,” Rimmon said graciously.
“Except for having his heart cut out and thrown on butcher scales,” Dante said. “Not the best way to make new friends.”
“I ’m very sorry to hear that.” Den frowned at the collected gods, who managed to look somewhat ashamed; all but one who had a dark bestial head like a nightmare version of an aardvark. S et’s eyes were furious black spheres with blood-red pupils that glowed with anger. The chaos god seemed to barely restrain his fury at being treated in such a manner. The situation at court was tense, that much was clear.
“No harm was done,” R immon insisted. “Your people have every right to be cautious in these troubled times.”
“Ah, yes,” the pharaoh breathed. “I understand there is a war of some sort? Hm, well, I ’m sure it will sort itself out. Now then, tell me what has transpired on E arth since my death. My name is still revered, I am certain?”
“There isn’t a man in the world who hasn’t heard of the pharaoh,” R immon answered smoothly.
“O f course,” Den looked rather pleased despite his alleged certainty. “I have noticed though, that not as many souls come here as before. Scarcely any at all.” The gods shifted uneasily again, but R immon had an answer ready. “E gyptians live much longer than they once did.”
That much was true, J ohn supposed. They might not worship the old gods anymore, but life expectancy was double if not more than it had once been.
“O f course,” the pharaoh said again. “And have many pyramids been built since my time?”
“I could not count them,” J ohn chimed in, eager to play the game. No one could count what wasn’t there.
“Of course,” came the standard response.
“There’s even a pyramid in far-away land called L as Vegas,” J ohn said, ge ing carried away. “A great beam of light that pierces the sky shoots from its center. E very year millions of people visit to—”
R immon cleared his throat meaningfully just as a delicate bell tinkled from another room.
“Ah!” Den was instantly alert. “You will, of course, join me in my feast?”
“I believe, sire,” O siris stepped forward, “that the lady Nefaru was hoping to dine alone with you tonight.”
“Nefaru! O f course!” The pharaoh’s dinner date must have been special, for in a ma er of seconds he and his serving staff had vanished from the room. An intentional silence fell as his footsteps faded away. Then the atmosphere in the room changed entirely.
“This is how you want us to appear?” S et snarled. “S niveling cowards who answer to a buffoon? L et him stuff his belly before I devour it whole! His feast shall become my own!”
“You would rather our pantheon be known for dissidence among its ranks?” Horus chided. “There is good reason that Den is sitting upon the throne of Ra.”
“Then let us explain our foolishness to our guests,” Thoth suggested, earning his reputation of a god of council and wisdom. The long ibis beak turned toward them. “I n the time of our rule in Egypt, the pharaoh was often considered the embodiment of Horus. This varied over the many centuries, and for one brief period, the pharaoh was associated with the great god Ra. Our dear naïve Den is from this era.”
“R a finally came to his sen
ses and abandoned these fools,” S et interrupted, “and they feel that replacing him with a clown will bring R a back rather than alienate him further.”
“The gesture is one of reverence and respect,” Horus shot back, “although maybe R a would prefer a sacrifice. I , for one, would revel in the sight of your foul head bleeding on an altar.”
“And you would be the one to cut it off, no doubt,” S et growled. “You’ll find your visage plucked of every feather and roasting over a flame before you lay a hand on me!”
V iolent energy crackled around them as the gods argued, a prickling penetrating sensation that J ohn imagined radiation would feel like. O ne by one the other gods joined in the shouting as they each took sides. S oon the air felt on the verge of exploding. B olo whimpered and Dante hit the ground. R immon threw his arms around J ohn to shield him from the coming war between gods. Then the voice of Osiris rose above all else.
“Take it to the astral heavens, or may Ra curse you both!” And just like that, it was over. B oth S et and Horus disappeared, and reality was no longer in danger of tearing at the seams. The only remaining evidence of conflict was an ominous rumble of thunder in the distance, caused by the two gods continuing to battle elsewhere.
“Talk about a dysfunctional family,” Dante said as he stood. “Papa’s run off, and the kids are duking it out in the backyard.”
The E gyptian gods hissed and glared in response to Dante’s words, but he was right.
Another pantheon was in turmoil because they had lost their leader. The pa ern was now undeniable. I n each realm they were sent to, the chief deity had gone missing, leaving the remaining gods disorganized if not desperate.
This couldn’t be a coincidence. I f anyone stood to benefit from the resulting confusion, it was the M inisters of O rder. How they had caused each realm’s leader to disappear was still a mystery, but this tactic was a grave miscalculation. W ith the leaders gone, recruiting the desperate pantheons to Hell’s side was even easier.
J ohn’s stomach sank. O f course, Hell could be behind all of this. J ohn couldn’t deny the existence of the glass men, but for all he knew they could be some sort of demon.
M aybe Hell had kidnapped the leaders and sent the glass men to cause panic, blaming it all on Heaven.
“I am greatly embarrassed by Horus’s and S et’s behavior,” Thoth said to R immon.
“At least they have made clear that these are difficult times for us. We understand that we are not alone in this situation, which brings us to your war.” And just like that, they were playing into Hell’s hands. John had to say something.
“J oining Hell in a war against P urgatory, possibly even Heaven, won’t do anything to bring R a back. M aybe we should focus on discovering the truth behind R a’s disappearance. He could have been taken against his will.” The laughter of the other gods was unanimous, except for Thoth, who was thoughtful. J ohn supposed he was being foolish, since he had seen R a free and rolling through the underground, but that didn’t mean some magic wasn’t keeping him from returning home. Perhaps the Egyptian gods were too confident in Ra’s invulnerability.
“O ur reasons for joining this war may differ from your own,” Thoth said, “or they may very well be the same. B efore discussing our own desires, we invite you to see what we can offer you. I f you leave here, you will find the Nile on the other side of the S phinx quartet. Following it downriver will bring you to the pyramid of jade. We shall await you there.”
And with that, the gods disappeared from the chamber, leaving the companions alone, except for the beautiful goddess I sis, wife of O siris. This mistress of magic directed them to the entrance they had come through, but when following her they found the long halls and public areas were gone. They were outside almost instantly.
The goddess bid them farewell, her colors taking on those of her surroundings, before she faded into the background and disappeared entirely.
“S omething’s fishy,” Dante said. “I f they had something to show us at the jade pyramid, then why bring us here in the first place?”
“To meet the pharaoh?” John suggested.
“O r maybe he insisted on meeting us,” Dante replied. “O therwise I think they would have preferred to keep him out of sight.”
“R egardless,” R immon interjected, “they could have brought us instantly to our destination with their magic, if they so desired. Unless I ’m mistaken, they want us to see more of their realm. I suggest we take our time and enjoy the sights.” This was an easy idea to embrace. The grass was so soft that J ohn took off his shoes as they strolled. Despite the evening hour, people were everywhere, calling out to each other, chasing their children, or lying as lovers together beneath the stars. A group of old women sat in a circle next to a cylindrical clay oven and gossiped as they pounded dough into flat discs. O ne flashed them a toothless grin before downing what resembled beer out of a worn mug.
“First time I’ve seen old people since Purgatory,” Dante commented.
J ohn smiled. “An ex-boyfriend of mine used to say that everyone was twenty-one in Heaven.”
“He wasn’t far from the truth,” R immon said. “O nly in the beginning does the mind cling to the former physical self. As time goes by, the silent wishes of the heart come true. ‘I wish I didn’t have this paunch on my stomach,’ or ‘I wish my hair was as thick as it once was.’ W ith no physical laws saying it should be otherwise, all souls soon achieve the appearance they find most ideal. M ore often than not, this is an age before forty. This effect doesn’t exist in P urgatory, which is why it is only recently that you have both begun to change.”
J ohn looked over at Dante and was startled. The difference was subtle but it was there. G one were the lines beneath his eyes and the pallor of his skin. The years spent drinking—and whatever else he had go en up to—had mostly been erased, although he still appeared to be in his thirties. Even his hair had a healthier shine.
“Do I look different?” John asked.
“A li le bit closer to being jail bait,” R immon said, “but still old enough to be taken seriously.”
“I be er not return to my teenage years,” Dante warned. “I was a walking zit until I hit my twenties.”
“Don’t worry,” R immon assured him. “Age is always based on your personal ideal, the appearance you felt most confident about. O ld age wasn’t common in ancient Egypt and was an achievement that brought great respect. That is why some women here choose to wear their wrinkles as a badge of honor.”
“I like that,” J ohn said, “but if a hot enough guy comes along, I bet they start ge ing younger.”
W hen they reached the Nile, they stared in wonder at its dazzlingly clear water, despite its great depth. Here people swam or paddled small wooden boats. A passing sailor offered them a ride, which they declined since the jade pyramid was now near enough to see.
Next they passed through a small village, and a group of children abandoned their games to run after them, fascinated by the lightness of J ohn’s hair and amused by R immon’s tail. B olo was in paradise, chasing off in all directions, greeting everyone, and creating laughter wherever he went.
J ohn could imagine staying here. The only thing missing was a clear blue sky and the warmth of the sun. He wanted to return that light to these good people, to give them back their god. He didn’t know how, but he felt he was meant to find the reason behind Ra’s disappearance. Why else would the sun god have appeared to him?
E ven more animal-headed gods were waiting outside of the great jade pyramid, but they weren’t the biggest surprise. I n their midst was the unmistakable shape of the steam coach.
“How did you get it back?” J ohn asked, running to it and placing a hand against the cool wood. “Hermes said it was covered in glass men.”
“I t was.” S et handed a cloth sack to him. The chaotic god looked as though he had been severely beaten, as did Horus, who was standing further away, but both of them appeared satisfied rather than angr
y. “These men of glass are nothing in ba le compared to my nephew.”
John took the heavy bag and peered inside. It was filled with powdered glass.
“You see what we have to offer,” Thoth spoke. “We E gyptians have always understood the secrets of creation. W hen one understands how something is built, destroying it is only a matter of snipping a single thread.”
“Hell would be honored to have your support,” R immon said, “but I know be er than to think it will come free.”
“S ouls,” O siris said, thumb and finger on his green chin. “Travel between realms has all but ceased. All of us are like puddles separated from the sea, growing more stagnant by the day. O ur hope is that the actions of this war will start the rivers flowing between us again, but until then our realm is the most drastically affected. O ur culture is so ancient that all who would come to us have done so long ago. Thus we need the invigoration of fresh life. Our price is ten thousand souls.” Rimmon nodded thoughtfully. “I have no doubt that after the war—”
“Now, not after the war.” O siris said. “The surplus of souls caused by P urgatory’s fall is another matter. Ten thousand souls and you have our loyalty.” R immon launched into negotiations, but he faced tough competition. J ohn felt uncomfortable with the entire proceedings. He didn’t understand why they needed the souls, or how those souls would reinvigorate the gods’ lives. W hatever this meant, J ohn didn’t like people being treated as currency. He watched distractedly as B olo tried in vain to a ract the a ention of Anubis, jackal-headed god of mummification.
J ohn supposed it was lucky that the dog hadn’t noticed the cat-headed goddess in their midst. Then the negotiations were over. R immon hadn’t gained any ground. The number of souls would not be reduced.
“Ten thousand souls,” the demon said, extending his hand to Osiris.