Book of the Dead (Gods of Egypt 2)

by Nadine Nightingale

  “We should—”

  “Seth?” Her voice is like the song of a bird waking dawn.

  We both turn to look at her. To look at Nisha. Except, she’s not Nisha, she’s—

  Nebt-Het’s midnight hair cascades down over her shoulders. Her emerald eyes, accentuated by kohl, pop. She moves toward us with the grace of a goddess. Then again, she is a goddess. The most stunning I’ve ever seen. Which means something, keeping in mind I live in a palace occupied by gods.

  Seth—I now remember my friend’s name—lights up at sight of her. “Did you miss me?” he asks, pulling her against him to show the world who she belongs to, and rebelling against every law the gods ever made. A goddess can’t love a human. By touching her, Seth is risking the death penalty. Luckily, Nebt-Het’s parents—Geb and Nut—treasure her daughter’s happiness more than the rules of the Ennead. It’s why they turn a blind eye to their love.

  Nebt-Het melts into his side. “Miss you?” She waves a hand dismissively. “I did no such thing.”

  His lips descend on hers. “Liar.”

  A jolt of electricity shoots through my veins as I watch them drown in their happy world. A strange sensation claws at my heart.

  I turn to the warriors. “The break is over.” I toss one of them a khopesh. “Let’s try again.”

  A warm hand encircles my shoulder. “You’re being too harsh on them,” Nebt-Het whispers, her proximity doing crazy things to my heart.

  Oh, lords above. Why do I constantly feel deprived of air when she’s near? I step aside. “Chaos won’t be any nicer.”

  “He’s right,” Seth says, lacing his fingers through hers. “Let them train. They need it.”

  She says something. I can’t make out what, because I return to the battlefield, ordering a dozen warriors to attack me.

  This time, however, I don’t seek a win. I long for pain instead.

  The desert fades. What was that? The vivid images still dominate my mind.

  “The past.”

  I figured that much. It didn’t feel like the past, though. It felt like the bloody present, for fuck’s sake.

  “What once was,” Anubis says, “still is.”

  Seth was my friend. Nisha was his love. And I…I was fucking jealous.

  God, Scarface was right. I was…am a traitor. What else do you call a guy who’s in love with his best friend’s girl?

  Anubis tightens his grip on my hand. “There’s more.”

  The shadow of the obelisk falls across the sand.

  The sun, high above us, is as vicious as ever. It turns the desert into a wasteland, breeding death and suffering. Oddly enough, it’s not the fireball that tightens the knots in my stomach. Let it blister my skin, burn my feet. The pain is sweet compared to what will follow.

  The beat of the drums quickens.

  I look around me, aware of how much worse this must be on the others. I was raised to battle evil. I was taught to be fearless. Yet here I am, the hair on the back of my neck standing tall, sweat curving down my spine.

  The brave warriors stand their ground. Don’t be fooled by their postures. Look at the quick inhales and exhales, the trembling of their khopeshes, and you’ll see how petrified they are. Rightfully so. They picked up their swords to defend boundaries and palaces, not to die at the hands of an undead army of demons.

  “You look a little pale, my friend.” Seth meets my gaze. “Would you like to sit this one out?”

  Any other day, I’d give him hell for suggesting I fear death. Today, however, I’m grateful for his attempt to lighten my mood, to take the weight of the world off my shoulders.

  I reach for my glaives, fisting my hands around the gilt. “And miss out on all the glory?” I muster a lopsided grin. “I don’t think so.”

  “Oh, please.” Seth cocks a brow. “As if it’s glory you’re after.”

  Glory, I was taught, is the downfall of every warrior. It climbs into your head, clouds your judgment, and leaves you choking on your own blood.

  Seth presses an emerald embedded in an iron stick. It quickly turns into an artful spear. “I’m fairly certain you never appreciated the attention your reputation brought you.” And by attention, he means young, beautiful girls willing to marry a foreigner exiled by his people.

  I didn’t care about such attention. A warrior doesn’t marry, and he surely doesn’t make a glory-struck girl a widow. Which is what is bound to happen sooner or later. Judging by what I see—thousands of men with animal heads marching toward us—I’d say sooner.

  “Not all of us are destined for love, friend.” Most of us only ever dream of a goddess willing to give up her throne to be with us.

  He peers at the undead, stomping across the desert, swords drawn. “You’re wrong,” he says, lightning flashing across his eyes. “If it wasn’t for love, there’d be no destiny.”

  I cast him a confused glance. The man I knew, who rescued me from thirst and starvation, has changed so much in the past few months, I barely recognize him. The power of the gods, which he gained after he walked out of the Underworld, has given him an insight mortal men can’t comprehend. It’s as if he learned all the secrets of life and then some.

  “Ready?” A flash of red appears in his eyes. “Because I’m dying to send them back to the Underworld.” Another change he exhibits—restlessness and a constant craving to prove himself invincible.

  I crane my neck and force a smile. “Why are we still talking, then?” I charge an army of thousands of undead creatures, unsure if we’re enough to stop them from overrunning the whole world.

  The desert is gone, replaced by eerie shadow figures, lurking in the corners of this godforsaken room. I’m ready for the horror trip to end, but no matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to move my bloody body.

  Helpless and at the mercy of Anubis, I gape at him. What good does it do to remember that sort of thing? I was a warrior fighting an army of undead, and my former best friend is currently holding his ex-lover, aka the girl I fell in love with, hostage in the Underworld. I really don’t see how all of this is going to help us free her and Izzy.

  Anubis crosses his arms, standing taller than I’d like. He’s intimidating enough. No need to push out that brawny, tank-like chest. “You cannot appreciate a painting if you neglect the details the artist has put into it.” He bends down. “Free your mind, Medjay. Let it take you to the time and place you must see.”

  How? It’s not like I want to see the other stuff. I’d be okay if I never knew what Seth meant to me, or that even back then, I nursed a deep crush on his girl. Talk about bro code, huh?

  “Trust your heart,” Anubis advises, offering his hand once again.

  I close my eyes and listen to my—

  I rush down the long hallway, ignoring the sky-high statues of the gods who built this palace. I don’t dare look at them. There’s a good chance, they’d strike me down for working in the dark against their fellow man.

  Quickening my pace, I keep my gaze on the floor. A cloak of darkness, threaded with the stink of betrayal and guilt, is wrapped tight around my hammering heart. What I’m about to do…. Lords above, there’s no precedent for such treachery. Seth is my best friend, the only one who refused to walk away from me, no matter what disgrace I’d brought upon my family. He deserved better than me. He deserved a friend who could have protected him from what he’d become. Someone brave enough to make him see his mistakes. But the mighty Medjay had failed. The blood seeping into Egypt’s earth proves it.

  “Sahir,” one of my best students, greets me. “The Princess is expecting you.” He steps aside, opening the massive gold door leading into Nebt-Het’s chamber. “Our Lord said not to wear her out.”

  Without a glance in his direction, I nod and stride into the room, closing the door behind me. Seth thinks I’m training her. The truth would kill him.

  Nebt-Het is pacing, her usually soft features harder than stone. When she sees me, she stops dead in her tracks, sighing in relief. “You’re her
e.”

  “I said I would be,” I reply, avoiding her stunning face. She’s by far the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, but what makes my knees weak is her fight. The fragile princess, barely reaching my chest with her chin, did what no one else has done. She defeated me in battle, knocked me down without breaking a sweat. She’s a goddess, yes, but the spark I’d seen in her eyes that day wasn’t supernatural. Quite the opposite. It resembled the look of a mundane warrior, ready to lay down his life for a cause.

  She folds her hands. Her voice, however, is a stark contrast to her confident stance. “I wouldn’t have blamed you if you’d changed your mind.” She turns to the window and looks down at the roofs of Memphis. “I’m aware of what he means to you.”

  I step closer, balling my hands into iron fists just in case they’d be dumb enough to act on the impulse to console her. No mortal is allowed to touch a god. No best friend should wish to do so with his best friend’s wife. “His army invaded Byblos today.”

  She spins around. “King Ahiram?”

  “Dead.” I swallow hard. “He refused to give up your sister’s location.”

  “What about the queen?”

  “Sold to slavers.” The words taste sour. I’d assumed Seth was good and righteous, but he turned out to be bitter and without honor. What else could you say about a god who sent his people into slavery, or worse, death?

  Nebt-Het drops to her knees. “This is my fault,” she whispers, covering her face to hide tears. “I should never have —”

  “No.” I’m in front of her, eyes pleading for her to look at me. “It’s his fault. His blind rage and hate is destroying everything he once fought for.”

  Nebt-Het looks up, the pain in her emerald eyes killing me. “I’m his wife,” she says, calmly. “I was supposed to fill his life with love and light.” She shakes her head. “I failed.”

  “No, you didn’t.” She’d stood by his side as he drove her beloved sister and brother-in-law into hiding. I bore witness to the love she kept offering him while he was busy planning war. I saw the hurt in her eyes when she understood the man she’d once loved was no longer there. “Whatever happened to him that day, it killed the man we both loved so much.”

  She blinks. “What did happen?”

  I draw a pained breath. “I don’t know.” I wish I did. But all I remember is the two of us fighting demons side by side and then Chaos brought darkness, and with the darkness came a guttural scream. Afterward Seth’s eyes were red and dead. “It was Chaos,” I assure her, holding back the fact Seth had already been different when he returned from the Underworld. It’d only add to the ocean of guilt already drowning her.

  She studies me closely. “That battle….” She exhales sharply. “It changed everyone.”

  “Yes.” The soldiers who survived had gone mad. Some returned home to gamble their life savings away or spent it on fleshly pleasure. Others murdered their own families. All of them, however, succumbed to a mysterious illness within a week of our arrival.

  “It didn’t change you.” Her tone isn’t accusatory. It’s just a simple observation, one that has given me many sleepless nights, where I wondered why them and not me?

  I clear my throat. “I’m sorry I couldn’t keep my promise.”

  “You did.” She smiles a little. “You brought him back to me, and that was all I asked of you, Medjay.”

  She rises to her feet, collecting herself. “I have to stop him.”

  “We,” I correct her. “You’re not alone in this, Princess.”

  She flinches ever so slightly at the mention of her title. It’s common knowledge around the palace that she doesn’t appreciate her royalty as much as she should. They say even before she fell in love with a mortal, the princess craved normality. Or maybe it was humanity she wanted?

  “I take it you’re still willing to go along with my plan?” she asks, her face emotionless again.

  “I am.” As much as I’ll hate myself for this, Seth needs to be stopped.

  “Good.” She moves back to the window, focusing on the obelisk marking the entrance to Memphis. “I had my priestesses hide The Book of the Dead in case Seth’s priests try to invade the Underworld to rescue him.”

  “Is it safe?” I look away from her soft neck. “The book, I mean?”

  “Like a grain of sand in the desert,” she replied, never taking her eyes off the obelisk.

  The palace blinks out of existence. I spot the red paint of Mara’s bedroom. But before I can adjust to my reality, another wave of dizziness hits me.

  Nebt-Het reads the spell. “To take his life, I sacrifice mine.” She slices through her palm with a dagger, and the poison of the snake weakens her immediately.

  Seth moves toward her, catching her before she hits the cold ground. “What have you done?” he whispers, angry and sad.

  The dagger is by my feet. I hesitate, picking it up. Seth is my friend and his pain is real. It reminds me of the man I’d trusted my life with. Deep down there’s still a part of him left. The one who’s in love with Nebt-Het.

  Nebt-Het.

  I glance at the Princess. She gave up everything to stop him. I can’t let her down. I swore I’d help her.

  I reach for the dagger. My hand is merely flesh and bones, the skin like ashes falling. It’s the curse that was put on this chamber. Soon it will end me. I have to do it.

  She lies in his arms, the light slowly fading from her eyes. He cradles her. “I’ve cursed us both,” she chokes out the instant I pierce my best friends’ back with the dagger.

  He doesn’t scream, doesn’t even turn to look at his murderer. He continues to hold Nebt-het close. “We belong together,” he says with his last breath. “I will find you again.” He collapses over her.

  I drop next to them. “Nebt-Het?”

  Her eyes are closed. Her fingers stretch out, finding my heart. “May you live again,” she says as my soul finds its wings and leaves.

  Anubis drops my hand and retreats to a corner.

  The shadow figures move toward me, taking on the shapes of men. Their faces are mine. They are me. Different versions of myself, but still me. Among them are soldiers from different times and places—Egypt, Africa, the French Revolution, World Wars I and II.

  What is this?

  World War II me steps forward. “Our past.” He ogles the others.

  “You saw what you needed to,” Anubis says. “You have the tools to find her. Use them wisely.” A heartbeat later he vanishes, along with the others.

  I begin to feel my limbs again, but I don’t really care. Because the ugly truth is I still know nothing except that even past me was in love with Nisha.

  The Tomb of Gua

  Chapter 13

  Nisha

  “I still don’t see why I have to wear this,” I grumble, pointing at my new outfit: a white wrapped skirt barely reaching my knees, and a linen top. Actually, it’s more like a sports bra, minus the padding. No matter how many times I pull it down, I constantly feel like my breasts are about to jump out.

  Seth doesn’t spare me a single glance. “I already told you.”

  “To fit in?” The leather sandals on my feet aren’t the best footwear when it comes to climbing rocks. I’d much rather be wearing my sneakers. At least they’d protect my poor toes. But my shoes are goners. The crocodile did a real number on them, kind of like it did on my ankle, which is covered with some weird paste—the green stuff given to me by the shop owner works miracles. My ankle is almost completely healed.

  “The less attention you draw, the better.” He flashes a wicked smile. “Those boys wouldn’t have harassed you if you hadn’t worn such alien fabrics.”

  “Jeans,” I hiss, holding on tight to the hem of my belly-exposing top. “They’re called jeans, for crying out loud.” There’s only so many times a girl can repeat herself before she’s inclined to hit you over the head. I’ve reached my limit.

  Seth moves through the rocky area without breaking a sweat. “I don�
��t care what they’re called.” He shields his eyes from the sun. “They were useless and had to go.”

  “Oh, but being half naked is helpful?” He said it himself: the Underworld is one big booby trap. How am I supposed to fight in a dang skirt? Even at the gym Izzy dragged me to once, I refused to work out in a sports bra. Not that I have issues with my body. It’s okay. I just don’t like to feel exposed.

  Husky laughter rings in my ears. “You haven’t lost your humor, it seems.”

  “I’m not joking,” I counter.

  Seth stops and spins so abruptly, I smack into his stone-hard chest.

  “Ouch,” I mutter, rubbing my nose. “That was—”

  “What happened to you?” His fire-spitting eyes search mine. “All that constant whining, the lack of confidence….” He shakes his head. “I don’t even know you anymore.”

  The opinion of the Ruler of the Underworld shouldn’t faze me. He’s got the blood of god-knows-how-many people on his hands. Only the devil knows what else is weighing on his conscience. (That’s if he has one, which I highly doubt). I mean, who cares if he called me whiny? It’s a whole lot better than being an ice-cold psychopath.

  If you don’t give a damn about his opinion, you shouldn’t feel that stab in your heart. No, I shouldn’t. And I don’t.

  “You,” I say, putting a lot of emphasize on the word, “don’t get to judge me.” My spine is straighter than an iron bar. “And you’re right. You don’t know me at all.” I push past him.

  My feet ache from the rocks, and the grinding sand finding its way between my toes. We’ve been walking for hours, no end in sight. Out here, away from El-Bersheh, not a single soul moves. It’s not a bad thing, considering what happened with those boys who offered me scorpions disguised as yummy bread. I just don’t like to be alone with Seth. The silence hanging between us is unpleasant, even suffocating.

  He keeps an arm’s length between us. That doesn’t mean I’m oblivious to the hateful glances he shoots me every now and then. Picking him as my guide sounded like a good idea at one time. Now I wonder if I’d have spared us the torture had I picked someone who loathes my existence less.