Book of the Dead (Gods of Egypt 2)

by Nadine Nightingale

  What did I expect we’d find in the Underworld? Demons, for sure. Maybe fire and brimstone. Time traveling back to ancient Egypt? Certainly not.

  That, however, is exactly what happened. We woke on the shore of the Nile, face-down in thick mud. Oz’s blood unlocked The Book of the Dead, and after he read a spell in godish, which he happens to speak fluently, we were deported to wherever we are right now. The Underworld, I assume, which looks a lot like the Old Kingdom, a period known for the first construction of pyramids. We stand here like idiots, no clue where to go or how to find the girls.

  The Nile stretches before us. We can hardly swim across it, so we are stuck for now.

  An enraged Will comes at me. “What the fuck did you get me into, mate?”

  Jade, little brave Jade, shoots daggers at him. “Would you keep it down?” She scans the area. “We don’t want to attract unnecessary attention.”

  Will zips his mouth shut. Guess he doesn’t want to mess with whatever is lurking in the sand.

  “Guys, look.” Scooby points across the Nile. An obelisk stretches into the sky. “That one looks a lot like Cleopatra’s Needle.”

  “That’s impossible. Cleopatra’s Needle was built much later.” I will admit the resemblance is uncanny.

  “No offense.” Shaggy looks me in the eye. “But how do you know what time we’re in?”

  I don’t just know what time we’re in, I can even tell him what city lies inland, not far from us—Saqqara, the birthplace of one of the world’s earliest pyramids.

  I’m all set to point out the men building said pyramid when Oz says, “Who cares what time we’re in? I just want to cross that damn river and find the girls!” He screams at the sky, the water, the whole universe, and anyone willing to listen.

  Jade is by his side, patting his back. “We’ll get there.”

  Oz pays no attention to my sister’s comforting words. He’s staring at the water, mouth agape.

  Eerie white mist appearing from nowhere comes at us.

  “What the hell is that?” Shaggy and Scooby chant in unison.

  That is a gigantic wooden boat, rowing toward us like a bloody ghost ship.

  We move back. Poor Will seeks refuge behind Jade’s back. And when a ten-foot-tall, ram-headed man emerges from the boat, Will shits his pants. Or at the very least, wets them.

  “Who dares disturb me at this hour?” Ram-head roars.

  Scooby’s jaw is clenched. Shaggy is paler than a ghost. Will is seconds from bolting. Jade just gapes at him. I do, too.

  But Oz steps forward. “I have no idea who you are,” he says. “We need to find our friends. Can you help us?”

  Ram-head says, “Your friends, you say?” Oz nods. “And who might they be?”

  “Nisha and Izzy,” I say, stepping forward. “They’re hostages of Seth. He wants Nisha to do those stupid Trials so he can get his immortality back.”

  Ram-head laughs wholeheartedly.

  “You think this is funny?” Oz barks.

  “Oh, no, Lord.” Ram-head wipes a single tear from one eye. “On the contrary, I think it sad that you two”—he ogles Oz and me—“of all people, think those girls, as you called them so disrespectfully, are hostages.”

  I’m ready to beat the answers out of him, but Jade steps between us. “I’m sorry,” she says sweetly. “But could you be kind enough to explain yourself?”

  “I can do one better.” He beams at my sister. “I can show you.” Ram-head raises a finger. “One.”

  “I beg your pardon?” Jade sounds thoroughly confused, as are the rest of us.

  Ram-head sighs. “I can only take you to one of them. Which one is up to you.”

  “Izzy,” Oz blurts out as I call out Nisha’s name.

  “Just one,” Ram-head says again.

  Oz turns to me. “Look, I know you want to go after Nisha first, but we both know he won’t hurt Nisha. He needs her to do the Trials.”

  “So?” Ram-head taps his foot impatiently. “Where to, ladies”—he bows to Jade—“and gentlemen?”

  “Please,” Oz begs me, the pain in his eyes killing us both.

  Jade’s warm hand rests on my shoulder. “I don’t know that girl you’re so crazy about,” she says quietly, “but from what I’ve heard, and judging by the effect she had on you, I’d say she’s strong enough to hold on a little longer.”

  Are they truly asking me to choose between Nisha and Izzy? How the fuck am I supposed to pick? Drawing a deep breath, I play the whole thing out. Nisha went to the Underworld for Izzy. She’d hate me for the rest of my life and probably all of eternity if I went after her, leaving Izzy to fend for herself. Besides, no matter how much I hate it, Oz has a point. Seth won’t harm Nisha. He loves her in his own twisted way.

  “I hate to be the messenger of bad news,” Ram-head says, “but I have a tight schedule. Chaos won’t fight itself, and our creator will soon need the boat.”

  “Fine,” I mutter. “Take us to Izzy first. But once we’ve got her, you will take us to Nisha. Understood?”

  Ram-head pulls his animalistic lips to one side. Then he gazes at the descending sun. “By then, the princess won’t need rescuing anymore.” He ushers us to his boat.

  Half of us already have already boarded when Ram-head hits his forehead. “Oh, I almost forgot.” He turns to me. “I require payment for my services.”

  “You what?” we all shout.

  Ram-head shrugs. “Nothing is free. Not in life and certainly not in death.” He smiles. “What are you offering, gentlemen?”

  “I don’t have anything.” No cash, no nothing.

  “Me neither,” Scooby and Shaggy blurt together.

  Oz fishes a bill out of his pocket. “I’ve got ten bucks.”

  Ram-head frowns. “Money is useless in my world.”

  Jade studies the creature closely. Whatever she reads is putting a smile on her face. “But the truth isn’t.”

  He quickly turns to her. “Go on.”

  She gestures at me. “You’re dying to ask him a question, aren’t you?”

  “You’re a seer.” Ram-head laughs.

  “Yes,” she replies. “And I can see how badly you want to know the truth.”

  “What truth?” I ask, my breath hitching.

  Ram-head looks at me. “I shall take you wherever you please if you tell me why you betrayed your best friend and king.”

  My heart drops. “I don’t remember much.”

  He laughs out loud. “You remember enough.”

  Yeah, but can I admit it to him and myself? Can I look him in the eye and say I did it because I had to and because I couldn’t bear Nebt-Het’s pain any longer? Can I say I betrayed the trust of my best friend because I was in love with his wife? “I—” Can’t.

  “So be it.” He walks away. “No ferry for you.”

  Fuck! “Wait.”

  Moments later, we sail into the night to rescue Izzy, not Nisha, while I reveal past secrets I’d rather have taken to the grave.

  Life, my friends, is a damn bitch.

  Chamber of Judgment

  Chapter 44

  Nisha

  Not long after Apep vanished, we reach our destination. The massive twenty-foot-high by ten-foot-wide gate, separating the Primeval Waters from the Chamber of Judgment, stands before us like a lone ray of light in a vast world of darkness.

  The door’s surface is smooth. The letters spelling Hall of Double Ma’at, a synonym for Chamber of Judgment, widely recognized amongst ancient Egyptians, are made of turquoise. The hieroglyphs foreshadowing what to expect inside—the weighing of the heart—look like black spots on the shiny metal.

  The clock’s about to strike midnight, and I don’t mean in that Cinderella way, when she’s transformed back into a nobody. There won’t be a happy ending for me after everything I learned about my past. Final judgment is about to be passed, and I’m fairly certain it’ll end with me ceasing to exist.

  Seth gently squeezes my hand. “I’m afraid for
you,” he whispers, voice cracking. “This is as far as I can go.”

  “I know.” He told me so when we started our little trip through the Underworld. I wish he’d stay with me, that he’d see me to the end of the dark tunnel, but wishes are like dirty dishes. Easily washed off when reality hits.

  Seth tilts his head, the ghost of a smile on his lips. “You’ll be okay. I know you will. Your heart is pure as gold, your soul as white as snow.”

  I put on a brave face and force a smile I don’t feel. “Yeah, right.”

  “Nebt—Nisha, you are strong and powerful. Why can’t you see that?”

  Because I’ve let people walk all over me ever since I could think? Because I hid in my room when I should have been facing life? But mostly because I feel weak and puny.

  “I should be going,” I say.

  He looks at me. Really looks at me. “When I first saw you, I was lost. A little orphan, with nowhere to go but the afterlife. I’d been sitting in the desert for days, mourning the loss of my parents, contemplating what would kill me first—the heat, thirst, or the demons. I had nothing to live for, Nisha. Absolutely nothing. Truth be told, I longed for death. Life without love, without company, was torture.”

  I reach for the enemy’s shoulder, desperate to show him he isn’t alone anymore. “I’m sorry for what happened to you.” No child should witness the death of their parents.

  A smile tugs at the corners of his lips. “I am not,” he says, startling me. “I lost a lot, but when you jumped out of that carriage and ran toward me with that angelic smile, I knew why I had to suffer.” He caresses my cheek.

  A part of me is taken with the man of my nightmares. I won’t deny it. Yet I’m no longer the girl who ran to the lonely boy, desperate to make him smile. I am Nisha Blake, and my past life doesn’t define me. “That was a long time ago,” I whisper. “We’ve both changed a lot since then.” He turned evil. I became a coward.

  “Maybe,” he replies. “But when I look at you, I still see that unconditional love in your eyes. You fought your parents—the ruling gods—for a pitiful human boy who had nothing to offer you. You jumped into the Underworld for your cousin, ignoring the danger. You braved the journey through the Underworld, trusting the word of an evil bastard like me, to keep your cousin safe.” He takes my hands in his. “There’s never been anything but goodness in you. Even the gods can’t rebut that.”

  Like a Band-Aid, his words cover my cuts and bruises, slowly stopping the bleeding. “Thank you.”

  “You can overcome anything.” He steps aside. “Remember that.”

  I push the gate leading to my final judgment wide open and brave whatever comes next.

  Chapter 45

  Nisha

  Gold, wherever you look.

  The walls, the ceiling, even the floor is made of pure, blinding gold. No ruler on earth ever owned such an exquisite hall. Not the queen of England nor the emperor of China.

  I wait for my eyes to adjust to the brightness. They don’t. They can’t. The countenance of the divine is too much. It stirs up an odd mixture of warmth and fear.

  I search for the courage Seth believes to be hidden in my heart, try to find bravery in my soul for Izzy, my family, my friends, and myself, the girl who let others fight her battles, too afraid to stand up for herself. The girl who braved the demons of the Underworld.

  I stand in the middle of a hall, surrounded by ten golden thrones, five on either side of me. In front of me, a mere step away, is a scale. It’s not made of gold, but of a silver-colored metal that reminds me of my mom’s platinum wedding band.

  On the right weighing platform floats a white feather. Judging by its size, it must have once graced the body of a majestic bird, a creature our world no longer knows.

  The right weighing platform is empty, waiting for my heart and sins.

  “Welcome to the Hall of Double Ma’at,” a deep, inhuman voice says. “We have been expecting you, my princess.”

  “Who are you?” I wish I were as fearless as I sound. “Show yourself!”

  A small tornado rushes past, mussing my hair. It halts next to the scale and takes on a form I’m all too familiar with. One that’s haunted me since the night I watched my parents die.

  “Y-you?” I stammer, instinctively moving back.

  “Princess Nebt-Het.” Anubis, the man with the jackal head I thought to be a hallucination, a figment of my broken mind, smashes his golden staff on the floor and bows.

  Hushed whispers carry through the space:

  “She’s back.”

  “She has finally come home.”

  “Oh, how I missed her.”

  “She’s human,” a less cheerful, grumpy voice roars.

  “What a disgrace to the throne. To her blood.”

  “Weak and puny.”

  “It’s what happens when you break the laws of Him Who Created All.”

  “Quiet, brothers and sisters.” Anubis once again bangs his staff on the golden tiles. The force he applies shakes the ground beneath my feet, sending my heart into a frenzy. “Let her, descendent of Him Who Created All, speak.”

  Speak, huh? I’m a little busy trying not to pee my pants.

  The thrones are no longer empty. Well, most of them aren’t. The voices took on the shapes of gods I’ve only seen in books. Myths come to life.

  The inscriptions on their thrones tell me their identities.

  Harmachis, a living and breathing sphinx with the head of a man.

  Temu, his skin as blue as the sky, the white crown of Upper Egypt on his head. It’s a reflection of his power and influence.

  Shu, a simple man with stunning bronze skin and an impressive, not-so-simple blue feather tucked into his headband.

  Tefnut, a woman in a red dress with the face of a lion. A sun disc rests on her head, emphasizing her royalty.

  Horus, one of the most handsome men I’ve ever had the pleasure to lay eyes on. He is like a sculpture, crafted by none other than da Vinci himself, his body a weapon of steel and power. Even his missing eye doesn’t detract from his beauty. On his left shoulder is a falcon, equally beautiful, equally dangerous.

  Harthor, who wears a red dress, large cow horns on her scalp, growing on either side of her sun disc like a crown.

  Hu, a cobra, with a sun disc on its hood.

  Sia, a man whose sole focus rests on a piece of papyrus in his lap.

  There are the two empty thrones. The inscriptions read Geb and Nut.

  Nebt-Het’s parents. My parents in another life.

  The gods glare at me as if I’m blue or the one growing horns.

  Tefnut is the first to speak, not to me but to Horus. “She looks different.” The goddess tosses her wavy long hair over her shoulder. “Unspectacularly common and rather weak, wouldn’t you agree?”

  Horus rolls his good eye at her. “She is different, Sister.” He offers me a sweet smile. “Unlike most of us born with divine blood, she has experienced a mundane life and come out on top.”

  “Nonsense,” the blue king, Temu, murmurs. “Don’t make her out to be a hero. For she is—”

  “I said enough.” Anubis’s roar cracks the walls. “Our princess has returned home.” He eyes the Gods, lounging on their golden thrones. “ You will extend her the same respect and courtesy she once extended to you.”

  A few frown, others nod. All keep quiet.

  Go, Anubis!

  His focus shifts to me. His black, animalistic eyes see right into my soul. I know, because they warm my insides and freeze my heart at the same time. “I ask you again, Goddess of Protection, speak up. Let those who bear witness to the judgment know why you have come home at last.”

  I close my eyes. When I open them again, I aim my attention at the brawny black jackal-man, the only one who doesn’t cast me questioning or evil glances. I clear my throat. “I have come to be judged by the feather of Ma’at.”

  “And why is that?” Harthor asks, her voice not betraying if she’s team I-hate-Nisha, or
team it’s-good-to-see-you.

  There’s no time for dishonesty or sweet talk. I lay it all out for them, starting with the events at the Bavarian Inn and ending with my being here in the Hall of Judgment, ready to be devoured by the Soul Eater.

  “As reckless as always,” comments Shu.

  Harthor shoots daggers at him. “You say reckless, I say brave.”

  “She committed the worst crime of all,” barks Temu.

  Harthor laughs her heart out. “I didn’t know love was a crime, dear brother.”

  “It is when it’s against the laws of Him Who Created All,” snaps Tefnut.

  Horus jumps to his feet. “How dare you blame her. Do I have to remind you what she sacrificed for you?” He looks at each of them in turn. “For all of us and mankind?”

  Shu casts Horus a bored look. “I understand your need for loyalty to the one who helped bring you into existence, who watched you when your parents couldn’t, but you’d do well to remember how it was her husband who imprisoned your parents and took away your eye.”

  “You’re right,” Horus roars. “It was her husband. Not her. She isn’t responsible for his actions. At the end of the day, she was the one who defeated him and paid the ultimate price for it.”

  “Why?” Tefnut chuckles. “I seem to remember our little princess has always been quite fond of a mundane life. She got what she wanted when she really deserved punishment.”

  I stand in the center of a god war, listening to their accusations of crimes committed in a life I barely remember. The princess they speak of? I’m not her. Maybe I once was, but standing before them, I am Nisha Blake.

  And still, their words cut me like a thousand swords. There are tears in my eyes, and I feel like the biggest failure of all.

  Why do I care so much? Why does it hurt so bad? Why can’t I find the courage to defend myself?

  Because I’m weak, that’s why. I got used to people talking crap about me, and I don’t know how to speak up for myself. I never took a stand because I was too afraid. I believed I deserved it.

  No more.

  I’m done taking names, done being everyone’s doormat. “Wow. There you are, sitting on your mighty thrones, passing judgment on your fellow man. Does it feel good? Do you find satisfaction in the misery of other’s lives?” They stare at me, jaws dropped, but I’m far from done. “You call yourself mighty, claim to be better than your average Joe, but you know what? You’re not.”