Ahmose rushed to my side while Asten went to his brother. Injured again, I limped over to Dr. Hassan, who looked completely stricken at the betrayal of his assistant. After squeezing his hand, I went to Amon. On the floor at his feet was a tray of ancient tools, likely the ones stolen from the display.
A pool of sticky blood surrounded the tray. Kicking it aside violently, I knelt at Amon’s feet and took his hand. Rivulets of blood had dried on his arms; crusty dark stains flaked from between his fingers. Deep slashes marked several places on his thigh, and ugly stab wounds peeked out from between the fragments of what was left of his shirt.
I ran my hand carefully up his arm. “Amon? Can you hear me? We’re here,” I said. “It’s over now.”
He started, his hair hanging limply over his lowered head.
“Lily?” he said, his voice breaking.
“Yes. It’s me. Your brothers are here. You’re freed now.”
Amon’s hands clutched the sides of the chair, the tendons in his arms standing out as he trembled. Finally, sucking in a breath, he lifted his head.
The sight of him filled me with horror.
A loud sob followed by desperate gasps echoed in the room, and it took a moment for me to register that the sound was coming from me.
The beautiful golden god of the sun, the one I now accepted I was falling in love with, looked up and reached out blindly.
His once-beautiful hazel eyes—now dark, bloody, very empty eye sockets, the stuff of nightmares—turned toward me.
“Amon?” I pushed the hair from his forehead, flinching at the feel of his cold skin and the sight of the horrible things done to him. Amon’s sparkling hazel eyes were gone, and my heart was as broken and empty as the man who sat before me.
His lips were cracked and dry, and his breath rattled in his chest as if he were an old man beaten down by pneumonia. Bitter tears stung my eyes and slipped down my face. I couldn’t look at him any longer, so I laid my cheek against his knee instead.
The irony was that even gravely wounded, Amon felt the need to console me. His hand gently smoothed my hair. “Hush, Nehabet. All will be well,” his voice rasped. He began coughing so violently that I raised my head and cupped his neck, murmuring to him until the coughing subsided. When he took his hands away from his mouth, they were wet with fresh blood.
I sucked in a determined breath and stood, but too quickly, and I staggered. Steadying myself, I shook off the supporting hands of Amon’s brothers and turned to Ahmose. “Will my energy help heal him?”
“No!” The surprising outburst seemed to be all that Amon could bear. Something broke inside him and he slumped against the chair, unconscious.
“Your bond does enable the transfer of energy,” Ahmose said quietly, “but I doubt that your remaining strength will be enough to heal him.”
“Regardless, he wouldn’t want to put you at risk,” Asten added. “The fact that he absorbed all the pain he experienced without sharing even a little shows the depth of his concern for you.”
“What do you mean? Are you saying he deliberately avoided taking my energy? That he blocked our connection?”
“The times you stumbled or felt weakened were moments when he lost control, but he has been depriving himself of your strength for some time.”
“It was foolish of him to allow himself to become so enfeebled,” Ahmose said.
“Would you not have done the same if you felt as he does?” Asten countered.
Ahmose grunted and folded his arms across his chest. “He is closing off his future paths by choosing this course.”
“Perhaps the path that remains is the one fate has determined for him.”
Ignoring Asten’s comment, Ahmose explained, “Without his three other canopic jars, Amon’s powers have waned significantly. At this time he is nearly as mortal as you are. If he didn’t have the strength of the falcon, it is likely that the incarnation of Apophis would have destroyed him. I cannot journey to the past to ensure his well-being, but I will lend whatever energies I can to him now in the hope that it will be enough. As a mortal, your life essence is already dangerously sapped, Lily. I dare not take any more.”
“Well, I don’t care. Between your healing ability and what remains of my energy, how much of this can we fix?”
Ahmose sighed, rubbing his jaw as he peered at my determined face. “I may be able to heal what is broken inside his body enough so that he can function, but his eyes are a different matter.”
“May I contribute something?” Dr. Hassan asked.
Ahmose shook his head. “Only the one bonded to him can transfer energy. Even if Asten joined with me and we drained you dry, Lily, it would not be sufficient to restore his eyes and invigorate him enough to perform the ceremony. Restoring that which has been torn from our bodies is extremely complicated.”
“The ceremony is the most important thing,” Asten stated. “Amon still has his third eye. That will sustain him until Seth is bound once again.”
“His third eye? Do you mean the Eye of Horus?”
“Yes,” Asten answered. After a brief glance at Dr. Hassan, he continued. “The Eye of Horus is likely the reason Sebak focused on Amon’s eyes.”
“He wanted the power for himself,” I speculated.
“That is correct, but Amon took precautions before he gave himself up,” the god of the stars said. “Unfortunately, it seems to have backfired.”
“What precautions? What do you mean?”
Sighing, Asten ran a hand over his bare scalp. “We knew that the dark priest would try to take the Eye, so we transferred it.”
“How? Do you have it, then?”
“No. I am afraid I am the one currently in possession of the Eye.” Dr. Hassan stepped forward. “Amon made me a temporary vessel to hold it for him. It was how I could discern hidden places within the oubliette and found a way out.”
“Yes,” Ahmose said. “But a mortal can sustain the Eye for only a short time. If we cannot transfer it back to Amon soon, your doctor will begin to have irrational thoughts, which will lead to hallucinations and, eventually, madness. My soul was almost lost because the Eye was not focused.”
“Do you mean when we raised you?” I asked.
“Yes. The Eye guides us when we are called forth from the afterlife, and without Hassan guiding me properly, I could have ended up lost in the dark places between.”
Filing that information away, I said, “So as long as we give the Eye back quickly enough, we should be fine, right? What part of that plan backfired?”
“Hiding the Eye accomplished our purpose in that Sebak could not steal it and harness its power, but now he knows it is in someone else,” Asten explained.
“So, he’ll come after Dr. Hassan?”
“No. He believes you are in possession of the Eye,” Ahmose said.
Dr. Hassan fiddled with his hands. “Sebak is slightly obsessive.”
I folded my arms. “That is a bit of an understatement.”
“Yes. I fear he made you his target from the beginning,” Dr. Hassan said, “knowing that you were Amon’s greatest weakness, and now that he believes you have the Eye—”
“He’ll come after me with even more resources.”
“And now that he has channeled the incarnation of Apophis,” Ahmose said, “his previous obsession will become an undeniable hunger.”
“He will not rest until you are in his grasp, Lily.” Asten’s normally jovial expression was grave, giving me a good indication of just how serious my situation was.
“Oh.”
Finding out that I was the target of a dark, reincarnated crocodile god in not one but two ways was not exactly how I wanted my Egyptian adventure to turn out.
“At least we know now how the dark priest obtained his power,” Ahmose said.
“We do? Did I miss something?” I asked.
“He has stolen the power stored in Amon’s three other canopic jars,” Asten explained.
“But that power was not
meant for a mortal, even one sustained by Seth. It has damaged him, fractured his mind,” Ahmose said.
“You see, we were each granted four gifts of the gods,” Asten said. “The exception was Amon, who received a fifth gift, the Eye of Horus. The other four are stored in the canopic jars, and we take them into ourselves upon rising.”
“So what are the four gifts that Sebak stole?”
Ahmose said, “Amon was given the names Revealer of Secrets, Champion of the Troubled, Bringer of Light, and Seeker of Truth.”
“How exactly are those considered powers?” I asked.
“Being the Bringer of Light enables Amon to call forth the golden falcon.”
“Okay, so he got that one. What can the other three do?”
Amon’s brothers looked at each other and then at me. “Even we do not know the full extent of our power,” Asten said. “It is rare that we need to use our powers other than to complete the ceremony.”
“But to use them is instinctual, and we can sense when one of us is drawing upon this power,” Ahmose said. “Sebak was using Amon’s power, but it was warped, distorted, almost as if the power was being used in the opposite way in which it was intended.”
“So…instead of being the champion of the troubled, Sebak is the champion of the one who causes trouble?”
“Exactly.”
“And you can sense this power?”
“Yes,” Asten continued. “Sebak has used Amon’s power to discover lost spells and distort others, such as the spell used to raise us. He has perverted it to summon the dead, warriors with no minds of their own who suffer endless torment in broken forms. It would be a kindness to return them to the afterlife.”
I cleared my throat. “Then here’s a crazy question. Can we get Amon’s powers back?”
“Perhaps,” Ahmose said. “But we must convince Sebak to relinquish them.”
“It is not likely,” Asten interjected. “To give up the powers he must voluntarily set them aside. Most men cannot or will not make that sacrifice.”
Dr. Hassan, quiet for the last few moments, spoke up. “Perhaps I can reason with him.”
Asten and Ahmose gave each other a doubtful look. “Sebak’s purpose will be to challenge the ceremony,” Asten said. “If he can disrupt the ritual, then he might garner enough power to raise the god of chaos. Seth will be at his strongest right before the full moon.”
“When is that?” I asked.
“Tomorrow evening,” Ahmose said. “The stars will be aligned and the gateway that bars the Dark One from returning to Earth will be open for a short window of time. Our job is to build a barrier powerful enough that he cannot cross during this interim.”
Dr. Hassan said, “It is early morning now. That gives us approximately forty hours. But is it even possible to stop him?”
“With Amon, yes,” Asten said.
During this conversation, I’d never left Amon’s side. He remained unconscious, but I kept my hand wrapped around his arm, hoping to feel a little trickle of my energy leave me to fortify him. But there was nothing, no sign of life other than his shallow breathing. “Let’s heal him, then,” I said, ready to make the necessary sacrifice.
“Not here.” Ahmose stepped forward and picked up Amon, slinging him over his shoulder. “We need a place we can rest, and we will all need to feast so we can be at our strongest tomorrow night.”
“We can go back to my home,” Osahar suggested.
Asten shook his head. “I would assume that your assistant knows where you live.”
“Yes,” Oscar replied sadly.
“Then we need another place,” Asten said.
I rubbed my sticky arms. The idea of a feast, a shower, and a long nap was so very appealing. “Didn’t we pass a hotel on the way to—?”
My comment was interrupted by the sound of a deep rattle and a hiss. Something had riled up the zombies even more than they already were, and I suddenly remembered the arc of power that Sebak had sent out just before he disappeared. The unmistakable scrape of claws on stone and the clank of armored limbs resounded in the air.
“Sounds like the biloko are back. Can we sandblast our way out? Or maybe use Asten’s firefly-cloud thing?” I asked after surveying the room and finding there wasn’t another door.
“We need to conserve our strength for the ceremony and healing Amon,” Asten said. “Seeing the state he is in, I would like to avoid any unnecessary expenditures of power. If we have no other choice, we will do what we must, but for now I suggest that we fight our way through.
“Lily,” he continued, “stay behind Ahmose. I will take the lead. Dr. Hassan, you will flank me, and then Ahmose and Lily will follow. Do you understand?”
Nodding, I reached out and picked up the only weapon I could find—one of the scalpels that had likely taken Amon’s eye—and tried to ignore the bloodstains on it.
Asten still had his weapon, so he raised his bow and aimed a sparkling diamond-headed arrow at the door, which was buckling under the weight of the many creatures trying to get in. With Dr. Hassan gripping the silver handle of Ahmose’s battle-ax and Ahmose with the cudgel in one hand and supporting Amon with the other, we prepared to make a run for it.
The door banged open and a heap of undead fell into the room looking for us.
Asten took out three in quick succession, while Ahmose beat another two so hard they twirled in a mass of limbs and fell to the side. Grabbing Dr. Hassan, Asten shoved him ahead. Eager to vacate the zombie-filled room myself, I pressed close to Ahmose, Amon’s hair tickling my cheek, and followed.
Ahmose slammed the door shut and, risking a small use of his power, ran his thumb along the seal. “They will not escape now,” he said.
When he finally shifted, giving me a view of what lay ahead of us, I froze.
I had been expecting invisible biloko demons. Their bites were painful, but not being able to see them kind of helped. What waited for us were definitely not biloko demons and not zombie soldiers, either.
Moving stealthily closer was a horde of snapping crocodiles. What’s more, it looked like half of them were missing pieces. Some even had wrappings. “Seriously? Croc mummies?” I called out.
“I don’t believe all of them are mummies,” Dr. Hassan said as he waved the silver ax back and forth in the face of one, getting ready to give him the croc version of a pedicure.
He was right. Some of the beasts looked alive, while others were obviously undead. “There’s too many of them!” I exclaimed. “How do we get out of here?”
When one of Asten’s arrows glanced off the scaly head of a giant crocodile, Asten cried, “Hassan! Jump on my back.” Scrabbling onto Asten as best he could, Dr. Hassan wrapped his arm around Asten’s neck and held out the ax with the other. “Now, Lily! Take my hand. Ahmose, grab her other hand.”
I was flanked by the brothers, who closed their eyes and rose into the air. An aggressive croc lurched upward in an attempt to snag a limb, but Ahmose saw I was in danger and yanked me higher.
His actions pulled me away from Asten, and with Ahmose carrying the combined weight of me and Amon, I dangled and fell, landing on the back of a croc mummy that did not like the fact that its remaining back leg broke off upon impact. It spun quickly and snapped at me, grabbing my shirt in its teeth. Violently, it tugged, wrenching me over the side of its back.
Unfortunately, another crocodile mummy was waiting for me on the other side. The second croc scrambled closer and swung its heavy head into me, pinning me and clacking its toothless jaws, while a third latched on to my backpack. Claws ripped easily through my jeans. Desperate, I tried to scrabble away from the creatures, but the first croc had clamped too tightly on to my shirt for me to escape.
“Lily! Grab on to me!”
Ahmose had sunk down to jaw-snapping level and wrapped his arm around my waist. I held him tightly, one arm wrapped around his muscular back and the other grabbing on to Amon. Ahmose rose in the air, lifting the stubborn mummy croc with us.
> Asten drifted closer and raised his arm. With a quick jerk, he thrust an arrow into the eye of the croc and its whole body shook and then exploded into a shower of sparkling dust particles.
Without the extra weight, Ahmose seemed to recover somewhat, though I could tell carrying two people strained him. We floated over the river of crocodiles and out into the dawn sky.
Ahmose and Asten headed for a small cluster of trees on the other side of a dune, and once again I was thankful that cameras could not detect them. After setting Dr. Hassan, Amon, and me down, both men panted. We weren’t too far from the road, so I said, “Why don’t I take it from here? I’ll be right back.”
Like any self-respecting New York City girl, I was well versed in putting on my best face in even the most challenging disasters, and this qualified as a doozy. After tying my ripped shirt at my waist and rolling my torn jeans, I twisted my mud-caked hair into what I hoped would pass for dreadlocks and headed down the street to a main intersection, channeling the idea that I was simply a backpacking bohemian teen who’d fallen on a bit of hard luck.
Within fifteen minutes I’d located a cab large enough to hold all five of us and managed to convince the driver to wait by promising him a very generous tip.
Though the driver raised his eyebrows at Asten’s and Ahmose’s lack of clothing, what really concerned him was Amon. Dr. Hassan had tied a handkerchief around Amon’s head to cover his empty eye sockets, but the blood was not as easy to conceal.
When the driver protested, I said, “It’s okay, the blood is fake. It was a college assignment, to do a reenactment of a temple sacrifice for film class. He was up all night.” I wasn’t sure if there was a college in Kom Ombo, and even if there was, I was pretty certain that they wouldn’t allow filming or reenactments of any type in historic temple sites.
The driver gave us a dubious look and kept glancing at us in the rearview mirror all the way to the hotel. As I prepared to exit, he asked about the giant tip I had promised.
“Just a minute,” I said, and stuck my head out of the car to speak with Asten.
Reawakened (The Reawakened Series) Page 32