“Daughter of Geb and Nut…”
“Daughter of Geb and Nut...”
“Friend of the Dead, Goddess of Protection, and Protectress of the sacred Bennu bird, enter like a hawk, so that I shall come forth like the Bennu bird. May a path be made for me whereby I may enter the beautiful Amentet. Let me prove worthy of the Goddess Ba, so I shall live again with the power of Ra.”
I have a hard time muttering those words, but I manage somehow.
A surge of power, like electricity, floods my veins. My palms glow red, and the gold heats under them.
Seth hauls me back. “Move.”
The lock clicks. The gate flies open. The light of a thousand suns floods the Hall of the Dead.
Seth laces his fingers through mine. “Don’t let go,” is the last thing I hear before a vicious storm sucks us right in.
The Aftermath
Chapter 5
Blaze
Carnage doesn’t do the aftermath of the Halloween ball massacre justice. Death is seated wherever you look. On the prestige seats, around tables set with crystal glasses and polished silverware, across the marble floor. Even the walls bear witness to Death’s capable hands; several shades of red paint them.
The army of cats, released by Asim and his companions, roam the room, eyeing the deceased. Their tails are no longer bushy, but they still move like predators, ready to snatch their prey at the slightest movement.
Asim’s guys—the Bedouins—roam, making sure the dead are dead by checking their pulses. Guns are gathered.
They saved our arses. Came barging in and shot most of the lunatics. The same lunatics responsible for several terror attacks across Europe. The very same blokes who slaughtered a hotel full of people, believed Nisha to be the incarnation of an Egyptian goddess, and forced her to open a portal to another world.
I’m certainly aware of how incredibly crazy this sounds. Had I not seen it with my own eyes, I’d believe it to be one of the tales my grandmother and her tribe’s people liked to tell around a crackling bonfire.
I did bear witness to it, though. Saw the bloodshed, smelled the iron as it mixed with oxygen. There’s no denying what went down tonight. No sugarcoating it. Not when dozens of people lost their lives. Not when Izzy and Nisha—
I shake my head, unable to finish the thought.
Asim’s low voice cuts through the silence. He yells something in Arabic, and the Bedouins rear into action. A man with his face obscured by a black scar gathers the golden book, the Book of Souls, along with everything else testifying to the magic that had happened inside this room.
My breath hitches as I take it all in—death, magic, and failure.
Cats and Bedouins weren’t enough to keep Nisha safe. I wasn’t enough to keep her safe. Asim’s glorious backup plan failed to protect the girl I fell in love with, the one I was drawn to the moment I laid eyes on her in the Sheriff’s Station.
Granted, for a second it seemed as if we had the upper hand, that we could win this battle. We didn’t.
It was just one reckless second, but that was more than enough time for Scarface to push Izzy through the portal, aware Nisha would follow voluntarily.
Scarface—I look down at his corpse. His eyes are wide open, skin pale and leather-like, and he’s still grinning. A “fuck you” from the land of the dead.
I could have stopped him. Should have stopped him. If only I’d killed him before he pushed Izzy into the Underworld.
The past can’t be changed.
Nisha is gone. And now she’s god knows where, facing god knows what.
“Son”—Asim squeezes my shoulder—“are you all right?”
I haven’t been all right since I woke up with a sick feeling, which bugged me all day. I’d assumed the heaviness weighing down my chest was there because Nisha had refused to see or speak to me since that fatal night at the Red Shed. Silvio, that prick, had told her all about my past. I couldn’t blame her for being disgusted by me. Who would want to be with a bloke who had put someone in a wheelchair? Even if the arsehole had deserved it. So yeah, I was convinced my awful mood was brought on by her not wanting me in her life. But by the time the sun set, that gut-wrenching feeling had almost killed me. I couldn’t stand it anymore. I climbed on Lucille—my bike—and drove up to the Blake house. I had to talk to her. Had to explain my actions, hoping she’d understand I wasn’t just an evil bastard, getting a kick out of beating people up. Turns out she didn’t blame me for my past. Nisha Blake was dealing with her own demons all this time, demons so much worse than mine, and she finally confided in me. Told me all about her night terrors and visions, about Anubis and the bastard who tormented her in her dreams—Seth. Then she showed me a text message from Amara, her boss at the bookstore and close family friend. It said Amara was in trouble and she needed to see Nisha alone. No way in hell she was going there by herself. I wouldn’t let her. After that, things pretty much went to hell. We found her boss’s body in the back office of the bookstore, along with a mad terrorist.
And then Asim showed up and shot the terrorist before the terrorist could shoot me.
Nisha caused a damn earthquake.
And Scarface radioed in with an ultimatum: get everyone you love killed or come to the Bavarian Inn.
Soon after we found ourselves hostages of more crazy terrorists and a very mad history teacher, all of them determined to open a portal to the Underworld. Long story short, I’m a lot of things, but all right isn’t one of them.
It could be worse though. I could be kneeling in front of the closed portal, numbly staring at the flowery wallpaper smeared with enough crimson to fill a blood bank. Sort of like Oz—Izzy’s boyfriend and one of Nisha’s best friends—is doing right now.
I recognize a complete shutdown when I see it. My sister, Jade, still has them from time to time. Her mind takes her back to the horrific apartment where an insane wannabe vampire perforated her neck with an ice pick, continuously sipping her blood.
I look at Asim and tilt my chin at Oz. “He needs a medic.”
“No,” is Oz’s sharp reply. “What I need is Izzy and Nisha back.”
You and I both, brother.
Asim’s lips part as if he intends to speak, but a commotion outside the dining room draws his attention. “What’s going on?” he asks his Bedouin friends.
One of them—he’s got sharp gray eyes—answers in Arabic. I don’t speak the language, but it’s obvious he’s in distress.
Asim’s face hardens. He looks at me, the wrinkles around his chocolate-colored eyes deepening. “We have to go.”
“What?” He can’t just leave. We need him to get Nisha and Izzy back. He’s the only person who knows what really went down tonight.
Asim’s eyes soften. “The police are about to raid this place. They can’t find us here.”
“But—”
“Don’t worry, son.” He turns to the window in front, aiming his gun at the glass. “We’ll find you. I promise.”
Some not so pretty words rest on the tip of my tongue. But Asim reminds me of Uncle Lash, my mom’s older brother. Both men have that honorable stance and sense of tradition. Cussing won’t get me far. So I swallow my anger. “I’m coming with you.”
Oz is beside me in a heartbeat. “Me too.”
Some of the Bedouins have already merged with the night. Asim and Gray-eyed Bloke are the only ones left. “You can’t,” he says, eyeing us both.
“The hell we can’t.” I shoot him a murderous glance. “Nisha and Izzy are trapped in the Underworld. We’re coming and that’s that.”
Asim looks at Gray-eyed Bloke, who shakes his head.
“I’m sorry.” Asim sighs dramatically. “We have to take care of a few things. Then—”
“No.” Oz is in Asim’s face. “I don’t care what you or your friend say. Blaze and I are coming with you.”
Gray-eyed Bloke speaks quietly in Asim’s ear. Asim nods. “Any second, the police will barge in here. If we take you now, they will
think us enemies.” He looks me in the eye. “Especially with you being related to one of them.”
“I don’t care. I—”
“Enough,” Gray-eyed Bloke’s voice thunders through the dining hall. He moves toward me, gaze locked on my birthmark. “You will play your part, Medjay.”
“Don’t call me that,” I hiss.
“Why not?” His eyes smile. “It is who you are, after all, and if you truly want to help Princess Nebt-Het, you must embrace your past self.”
I have no clue what he’s talking about. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He rests his aged hand on my birthmark. “Those who understand the past can change the future.” He lifts his hand, and the bird-shaped birthmark under my tattoo glows like it did when Scarface ripped my shirt off. “Three people were cursed that day, but only one is still here to solve the puzzle.”
“What puzzle?” Oz sounds unhinged. I do not blame him. Gray-eyed Bloke’s riddle is messing with me, too.
“Embrace the past,” he says, retreating to the escape route his friends took, “And you will be able to guide the present and change the future.”
Next thing I know, he’s gone, as if he snapped his fingers and dissolved like air.
I search Asim’s face. “What did he mean?”
Asim looks through the glass door leading into The Woods. His feet carry him two steps toward it before he looks over his shoulder and says, “We are born to protect the world of the living, son. We cannot interfere with the dead. It’s against the law.”
Shit clicks. “You’re not going after Nisha and Izzy?”
“No.” His eyes darken. “We can’t. But if someone wanted to, they’d have to find a way into the Underworld. For that they’d need the original Book of the Dead, which was lost thousands of years ago.” He pauses. “And even if they found it, which is impossible, they’d need to have the bravery of an undefeatable warrior to make it through the world of the dead.”
A heartbeat passes, and Asim moves to the door.
“You’re going to do nothing, then?” Oz yells after him.
“We’re going to prepare for war,” he replies without looking back.
He’s gone, leaving Oz and me alone in the midst of a bloodbath.
“Blaze?” a high-pitched, familiar voice screams. “What the—”
Kathy is scanning the carnage, gun drawn. Behind her is Shepherdstown’s police force, except for the sheriff, who was barely hanging on to life the last time I saw him.
Once she’s certain there’s no gunman left, she holsters her gun. “What the hell happened?”
“I….” My usual cockiness is trapped in the Underworld with Nisha and Izzy. “I screwed up, Kathy.”
She comes at me. I brace for a smack across the face. She wraps her arms around me instead, suffocating me in the longest hug ever. “You’re okay,” she says over and over. “Thank god you’re okay.”
It feels like forever before she steps back. “Tell me what happened.”
Kathy, like me, grew up with the legends of our tribe. Unlike me, she believes in them. But giving credence to a story about terrorists, and working for an ancient Egyptian God who wants Nisha to get his immortality back by doing crazy Underworld Trials, is something entirely else.
I draw a sharp breath. “Nisha—”
“She was here, too?” Kathy pales, searching the bodies.
I nod.
“Where is she?” The dread in her voice kills me. She shakes me. Hard.
“In Hell,” Oz whispers. “They’re in Hell.”
Chapter 6
Machines are beeping as the nurse works on her supplies. I could focus on the irregular heartbeat, the needle that’ll soon penetrate my skin. Instead, my brain is stuck in a loop I can’t get out of.
Three people were cursed that day, but only one is still here to solve the puzzle. Embrace the past, and you will be able to guide the present and change the future. They’d need the original Book of the Dead, which was lost thousands of years ago.
I go over it again and again, but none of it makes sense.
Asim and his friend were trying to tell me how to find Nisha and Izzy, but no matter how hard I try, I can’t connect the pieces they’ve given me. They were too vague. Speaking in goddamn riddles, for fuck’s sake. All I got was that I need to find The Book of the Dead.
How am I supposed to find a book that was lost thousands of years ago? And even if I did, what then? I’m pretty sure I couldn’t even read it, let alone use it to get to the Underworld or rescue the girls.
“Relax.” The nurse’s soft voice cuts through my thoughts. She offers me a comforting smile I can’t seem to appreciate. “It’s only going to hurt more if you move.”
She thinks I can’t sit still because the needle she’s pushing through my skin hurts? I’m a trained MMA fighter. I’ve had my fair share of stitches. Needles don’t bother me anymore. The woman doesn’t know what real pain feels like. How watching the girl you love disappear into another world kills you. I could enlighten her but opt for a “Sorry” instead.
“No need to apologize.” She cuts the thread with medical scissors. “We’ve all had a long night.”
Lady, you have no idea.
She drops the needle in a kidney-shaped silver bowl and tosses her gloves. “Try to get some rest.” She heads toward the dimly lit hallway. “The doc will be with you in a bit.”
I frown. “I’m fine. I don’t need—”
“Lay down, Mr. Boswell.”
She waits until I do, adjusts the light, and leaves.
Thanks, Kathy. Wasting precious time in the ER is exactly what I don’t need.
Four ceiling modules bathe the room in an orange light. There’s a small flatscreen on the wall. Above it are purple LED strips. The longer I look at them, the heavier my eyes are.
I close them, just for a second. Instantly, the images of the Bavarian Inn come back to me. The burned corpses, melted faces, and floating dead push me into an upright position.
What the bloody hell am I doing? I can’t just lie here when Nisha and Izzy are in the Underworld. Who knows what they’re facing right now? I saw what a handful of Seth’s followers were capable of. I don’t want to know what his army can do.
“Oh.” A young, sweet voice draws my attention to the door. A blonde, long-legged nurse pokes her head in, smiling sheepishly. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”
“You didn’t,” I assure her.
She drops a chart on a table and moves closer. “You’re Blaze Boswell, right?”
I’ve seen that flirtatious look a million times. Girls will walk up to me, ask me if I’m the Blaze Boswell, and when I say I am, they make sure I know they are available. It was exciting at first. Hey, I was an inexperienced kid. With time, however, I saw right through their acts. They don’t want me. They want a slice of the fame cake.
“The guy who went toe to toe with those crazy terrorists?” the nurse adds when I don’t reply.
Gossip spreads like wildfire around here.
The last thing I want is to entertain her. I stare at the purple lights and keep my lips sealed.
“They said you saved the remaining hostages,” she continues, overlooking my lack of engagement. “I just want you to know….” Her cheeks flush. “I think you’re a hero. You—”
“Bollocks. I don’t know where you get your information from, lady, but I am no hero.”
She narrows her eyes. “But—”
“No buts,” I say sharply, hoping she’ll leave me the hell alone.
She gets the message and walks out without another word, shoulders drooping.
Hero? Hilarious.
If I were one, Nisha would be here with me now. At the very least, I would have told Kathy the truth about what happened inside the Bavarian Inn. But I remained silent when she questioned Oz’s sanity after he blurted out that Nisha and Izzy were in Hell. Of course, Kathy didn’t believe Oz. How could she? Even by Traveler standards, his account of where
the girls are sounded unstable. Oz’s crazy expression didn’t help. So Kathy did what any good cop would have done. She yelled at a bald bloke in uniform to “Get the damn EMTs in here.”
It’s why I didn’t argue with her when she ordered the EMTs to take us to the hospital. I had just walked out of battle, defeated. I was in no shape to go into another fight. A small part of me was even relieved to get away from the carnage. I needed space to breathe, to inhale something other than the scent of burned flesh and rotting meat. I also needed time to think all of this through, to make sense of what Asim and his friend had tossed at my feet.
It was a waste of time. The hospital, I mean. I’m no closer to solving the riddle they left me. Worse, in here I can’t do anything to get Nisha and Izzy back.
“You can’t go in there,” the nurse argues outside my room. “He’s not allowed visitors yet. He needs re—”
“Step aside,” a familiar voice demands.
A fraction of a second later, Scooby and Shaggy march in, slamming the door shut behind them.
“We need to talk.”
I have never seen Shaggy so serious.
“Come on.” Scooby tosses me my blood-soaked jeans. “Dress. Gotta go.”
They don’t have to tell me twice. I’m good to go in less than a minute. “Where to?” I ask as we move into the hallway.
Oz appears, his cuts and bruises hidden beneath bandages. “Is there somewhere you can tell us what the fuck just happened and how we can get the girls back?” he says, his tone less than friendly.
I scan their faces. Do they really think I’d still be here if I knew how to get them back? Shaggy catches my bruised elbow and hauls me down the hall, out the door, and into the parking lot, where his Jeep is waiting.
Kathy is going to kill me.
Running from the hospital is exactly what she’d expect from irresponsible, impulsive Blaze. Right now, however, I don’t care about her assessment of my character. Not when Nisha’s life is at stake and these boys—judging by the looks on their faces—are ready to do whatever it takes to get her back.
Book of the Dead (Gods of Egypt 2) Page 3