Strange and Ever After

by Dennard, Susan

  And I had two options: try to climb out, which would require getting past the Black Pullet’s maw.

  Or descend into the tunnels behind me.

  The decision was easy, for at that moment the Pullet was rapidly gaining purchase and digging itself out from under the broken roof, and though my sword had been slammed even farther into its neck, the monster was no worse off than before. Its claws knocked away bricks bit by bit, and its breath heaved hotter than the wind and reeked of carrion.

  So, in a burst of speed, I threw myself into the lightless depths of a catacomb unknown.

  UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

  HarperCollins Publishers

  ..................................................................

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Moonlight from the caved-in roof did not extend into the catacombs. I instantly cast an awareness spell, silent words trilling over my tongue and the net flying out, out—

  It hit the Pullet.

  And the spell exploded. Magical threads shriveled up and tangled through my muscles.

  I stumbled, choking. I couldn’t cast that spell—I didn’t think I could use any magic on the creature. It would simply backfire again.

  I lurched to the left wall and, using my one hand to guide me, I scurried farther into the tunnel. If this was like the bull temple, I would hit queens’ guards soon—and maybe I could hide behind one. If this was like the dogs’ catacombs . . .

  I prayed it was not.

  A shrill scream pierced the darkness behind me. It bounced off the limestone walls.

  Ice rolled down my spine. The Pullet was still coming after me.

  I hurried my steps. Soon I could see absolutely nothing, and the heavy air clogged my lungs. But I jogged on—I had no other choice. If I could just reach something, I might have a chance. . . .

  Yet nothing came. For all I knew I was walking right by potential hiding spots, but my feet and my one hand touched nothing except chalky stone.

  And behind me, talons tapped, golden feathers shook, and breath huffed. The creature was close, but how close was impossible to gauge.

  Faster, I ordered myself. Faster.

  My toes suddenly bumped something. My hand lurched out—and connected with stone. Fear shot up my throat, and I had to bite back a scream. Was this a wall?

  I sidled right, dragging my hand . . . dragging . . .

  Until I tumbled forward. It was not a wall—thank God—and when I crept forward, I found something even better than a queens’ guard: an alcove.

  It was narrow, barely enough space for me to squeeze into, but it was there nonetheless.

  Just as I wrestled my body into the tiny space, my back knocking against something strangely soft and familiar; a yellow light filtered into the tunnel.

  I clamped my hand over my mouth, trying to stifle my breaths. To contain my pounding heart.

  The glow brightened, sweeping side to side, and I realized with twisting horror that the Black Pullet could see in the dark. Like Oliver, it had yellow, glowing eyes.

  Its scuttling claws slowed as it neared me.

  Then it was in front of me, talons clacking and head swinging from side to side. It paused, black scales quivering and so close I could pluck a golden feather from its wing.

  For several endless moments the tunnel was sprayed in pale light, and I stared with trembling eyeballs at the wall opposite me. Vivid murals spanned from the floor to the ceiling: paintings of a farmland crowded with the usual, rigid Egyptian people. Yet between each person there was a black-and-white ibis, its beak curved and majestic.

  My breath hitched in, my eyes widening. Oliver had mentioned a god with an ibis head: Thoth. This was Thoth’s temple . . . and this had to be the bird catacomb that Oliver could not find.

  Then another thought hit, and my eyes bulged even wider—for what had Oliver told me about the ibis? They once protected Egypt from a great winged serpent. A great winged serpent like the Black Pullet.

  And at that moment the winged serpent was resuming its stalking steps and carrying its yellow light away. But not before I glimpsed a shadowy alcove across from me . . . and a small, canvas-wrapped mound inside.

  A mummy, and if I was right, there was one directly behind me too. And more throughout, if this catacomb was anything like the others.

  The Pullet’s scaly tail flicked past, and I squeezed my eyes shut.

  Awake, awake, awake, I thought. Return to your bodies. Wake up and fight—awake!

  A pulsing light appeared behind my eyelids, and my soul slid through my veins—climbing, reaching for my heart.

  Wake up! Awake!

  The light shone brighter, and my magic continued to trickle inward. I had never felt power like this, so warm and . . . yet almost dampened.

  And still the light burned brighter until it scorched red behind my lids.

  Then a soft huff sounded, and my heart turned to stone.

  This light wasn’t magic.

  I snapped my eyes wide—just in time to see the Pullet’s fangs lurch at me. A scream cycloned over me, raising my hair and coating me in static and moisture.

  I fell back, stumbling over the ibis mummy . . . and hitting a wall. Another scream and another snap of teeth. It filled every space of my sight, of my hearing, of my heart.

  But the Pullet’s head didn’t quite fit into the alcove.

  I ducked down, my hand landing right on the bound mummy’s chest . . . and then my fingers poked through the canvas wrappings.

  The ibis moved. It wriggled—it was awake—but it was bound too tightly to move. These wrappings had not decomposed like the dogs’. My fingers curled into claws, and I shredded the fabric. . . .

  The Pullet reared back for another attack, and my sword gleamed in its throat.

  I dived forward, and in a single move I grasped the hilt and kicked off the monster’s chest. I tumbled back into the alcove, and hot blood sprayed over me. Then, with a slash, I cut the ibis free.

  It burst from the bindings, bone wings and desiccated flesh spreading wide.

  “Attack,” I roared, but I didn’t need to. The mummy knew what to do. Its long beak snapped right for the hole left by my sword, and stabbed.

  The Pullet screamed, staggering backward.

  I lurched across the tunnel, swinging beneath golden wings before I ducked into the other alcove. This bird wrestled its bindings too; I arced my sword out . . . and sliced away more cloth.

  And just like the other ibis, it careened straight for the Black Pullet. Light swept every which way, blinking and swinging as the Pullet struggled to fight the birds. But they swooped and stabbed, effective and vicious.

  As I gaped, trying to find the perfect moment to run, more ibises wriggled from their alcoves. They wrestled free from their bindings, and in moments there were ten ibis. Then fifty. Then hundreds.

  So I moved. Raising my sword high, I bolted into the tunnel and aimed back toward the entrance. The darkness crowded in, shaking with the Pullet’s keening wails, but I didn’t slow. I trusted my feet to get me back to the broken temple.

  And soon moonlight shimmered over bricks and fallen stone. The Pullet’s cries were far behind, almost drowned out by the flapping of bone wings.

  I reached the rubble, shoved my sword behind my belt, and climbed. Using broken stones and crumbled roof, I leaped and grabbed and hauled myself ever higher. The moon was so bright and so brilliant.

  Then I was back to what remained of the temple’s roof and jumping into the dunes. A distant pop-pop-pop hit my ears as I launched into a run.

  The copper lines around the obelisk must still be working . . . but where was the thunder from Joseph’s electricity? Why was no blue light blazing in the distance?

  Terror welled in my throat, and I hurtled over the sand. The shattered skeletons of my army crunched beneath me, and as I sprinted, I severed all my necromantic leashes to these dogs.

  Sleep. Sleep. Sleep.

  The magic kept me going. A
leash cut for each footfall and a burst of strength through my body.

  The noises of battle grew louder. Clashing weapons and indistinguishable shouts.

  I reached the pyramid and slowed to a gasping stop. Rounding the stones would bring me to the imperial guards, but going up would at least let me see the battle before I entered.

  So I dug my heels into the first step and tucked in my head, and I charged up the pyramid. Each step brought more sounds into focus.

  Boom! A pulse bomb detonated.

  Which meant the mummies were to the final line.

  I moved even faster. I pushed everything I was into my legs. My strength, my magic, my life—I had to get to the Spirit-Hunters. To my friends—my family.

  I crested the pyramid. The battle crashed over me.

  And the truth did too.

  We were losing. Three of the copper lines had been dug up and smashed apart. The mummies scurried over . . . and toward the final line.

  Beside the obelisk, Joseph was doubled over. The crystal clamp shone in his hand, but he wasn’t able to squeeze. Daniel and Jie flanked him, pistols and fists at the ready. . . .

  And beneath his balloon, waiting like a cat beside a mouse hole, was Marcus.

  I jumped. In a leap that carried me two levels down, I rocketed through the air and drew the world’s magic to me. My feet slammed down; my knees crunched. Onward I moved, gathering in the magic of the stones, of the night, of the sand. I called it to me just as I had two days ago, and I damned the consequences. I just inhaled . . . and ran.

  But then light exploded, sand flew, and thunder crashed over me. Mummies flew back—only to be instantly replaced.

  The final copper line was finished.

  And a single mummy darted through, spear out and aiming for Joseph’s back.

  “No!” The scream ripped up my throat. “No!” I lashed out with my magic, aiming for the mummy, trying to sway its spear. . . .

  But I was too far. Too slow.

  The spear cut through the air.

  And Daniel stepped into its path.

  UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

  HarperCollins Publishers

  ..................................................................

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  With a single twist of his body, Daniel blocked Joseph from the spear.

  And the spear impaled him.

  Right through his heart, until it thrust out the other side.

  Screams blistered inside me and tore out, rattling and unearthly. I ran and dived as fast as I could. I threw my magic at the mummy—at the spear. At any goddamned thing that would stop this moment.

  But nothing stopped it.

  The guard wrenched back his spear, and it yanked free from Daniel’s chest. Daniel spun around, limp but reaching.

  His eyes locked on to mine. His lips parted.

  He hit the obelisk.

  His body slid down.

  And he stopped moving.

  Jie reached him, tumbling to her knees. Her screams melted with mine as Joseph’s electricity exploded into the lines of mummies.

  I hit the sand and hurled myself forward. All I saw was Daniel. All I thought and felt and shrieked was Daniel. My Daniel.

  I dived at him, Jie’s sobs meaningless to my brain. My hands grabbed his face. Blood was everywhere. I tried to gather it up, as if I could push it back into his chest.

  But he wasn’t breathing. His eyes were still. His lips frozen.

  He wasn’t dead, though. He couldn’t be dead. I shook him. I screamed at him.

  And all the while, electricity sizzled and held the mummies away.

  “Daniel, Daniel, Daniel.” Jie’s cries sounded over and over. She rocked back and forth, and I wanted to screech at her to stop!

  Because he wasn’t dead. I wouldn’t let him be dead. There had to be some way to change this. Some way to go back. Some way to bring his soul here, where it belonged.

  I clutched the sides of my face. They were warm with his blood; the keening stench seeped into my skull.

  And my eyes landed on the obelisk. Like me, it was streaked with Daniel’s blood . . . and as I stared at it, it shifted and swayed.

  It shimmered golden. Like a sunray trapped in moonlight and covered in blood.

  By blood and moonlit sun.

  Suddenly the phrase made absolute sense. I could cross the curtain. These obelisks—which had reminded me of sunbeams each time I looked upon them—were gateways to the spirit dock. But they had needed blood and moonlight to open. . . .

  Now this obelisk had both. Sprayed with Daniel’s blood, I could cross into that realm.

  I shoved to my feet, roaring at Jie to hold Daniel. Keep him safe. Then I staggered to the obelisk and slammed my bloodied palms against it.

  I fell through the curtain.

  Instantly, Joseph’s electricity and Jie’s sobs vanished. Everything was silent. Too silent after all the violence bursting in my chest.

  The dock spanned ahead of me, empty.

  Where was Daniel? He should be here. He had just died, and he should be here.

  “Daniel,” I screamed into the stillness. “Daniel!”

  Nothing.

  So I kicked into a run. The wood thumped beneath my boots, and the slats smeared beneath me. I swung my arms and drove my knees high. I ran and I ran and I ran.

  Until a silhouette appeared before me. An ambling stride. A lanky build.

  He paused, his head cocking as if he heard me. . . . His lips twitched up.

  But then he blinked and resumed his unhurried stride.

  “Daniel!” I shoved my body harder, but for every slam of my heels, he stayed the same distance ahead.

  But I didn’t stop.

  Not until my body betrayed me. My legs tangled together. I plummeted forward, my single hand lurching out to catch me.

  My face hit the dock. Wood stabbed my cheek. My teeth chomped through my tongue, and blood splattered onto the deck.

  I dragged my head up.

  Daniel walked on, his pace constant, his silhouette never vanishing.

  His name shredded over my vocal chords. “Daniel, Daniel, Daniel.” I screamed it, and my tongue gushed blood.

  But still he walked on.

  Then came the sound I knew would arrive eventually. A muffled baying, far out over the black waters.

  Gritting my teeth, I staggered upright. The Hell Hounds could not have my soul, and they could not have his.

  Daniel was mine. He was my Daniel, and I would not let this death claim him.

  I shambled back into a run, shouting for him. Begging him to wait.

  Even when ice gusted into me, I stumbled onward.

  Even when howls splintered my skull, my course stayed true.

  But the Hounds would reach me at any moment. Their frozen storm kicked at me from behind. Harder, colder, and louder with each second. They would claim my soul and blast it into a million pieces.

  But they couldn’t shatter an already-broken soul.

  And then I saw the opening—the jagged hole that cut into the dock. I could keep going. I could escape the Hounds. . . .

  I lunged low, hitting my knees and sliding over the wood. My pants shredded, my legs sliced open, and I choked on the blood that surged from my tongue.

  I reached the hole; I toppled through.

  The Hell Hounds’ fury screeched overhead, exploding through my eardrums. Ice clawed into my hair and yanked chunks from my scalp.

  But my eyes were blanketed in darkness. My hearing cloaked in thunder.

  I hit the boat.

  You found the way.

  I snapped my head up, and in the gloom a figure formed.

  It was the jackal—yet he had the body of a man. He sat on a bench at the opposite end of the boat. In his hand was a pole that sank down into the gentle waves. His tanned chest was exposed, and he wore nothing but a small flap of fabric around his legs.

  “You,” I snarled, pushing to my knees and gulping fo
r air. “Take me to him.”

  He is gone.

  “I saw him!” Blood hit the boat’s floor. “Take me to him.”

  You cannot reclaim his soul.

  “Of course I can.” I scrubbed my left hand on my pants, ripping flesh off my palm with each vicious wipe. “I know what you are, Annunaki, and I know that you hold the power of life and death.” I thrust my face at him. “I want life.”

  The jackal cannot do this for you.

  “Yes you can!” I screamed. “Why would you show me this boat if not for this moment? You knew it would come to this.”

  The jackal did not know. He only showed you the boat so you could bring him the Emperor’s clappers.

  A harsh laugh broke through my lips. The boat shook. “I don’t have the clappers, and even if I did, why the hell would I bring them to you?”

  They are not meant to be in mortal hands.

  “Then,” I growled, “you shouldn’t have given them to us. Was it you? Were you the one who fell in love with a human?”

  The jackal would never do this. Mortal souls are weak, and that is why the balance has been disrupted.

  “Balance?” I repeated. “I don’t give a damn about balance or clappers or you. If you will not take me to Daniel, then I will find him myself.”

  No.

  A new voice flamed through my mind, and the boat tilted back. I lurched around—and froze. A second Annunaki had joined us. It was the god Oliver had mentioned. The god with the head of an ibis but the body of a man.

  “Thoth,” I whispered, shock briefly overcoming my fury.

  Yes. The ibis head bobbed.

  And rage instantly curled back through me. “You are the god of balance, no? So you take care of this.”

  Only the jackal may enter the earthly realm. His eyes rolled, just like a bird’s but with fire flickering inside. And even the jackal may not interact directly. He is nothing more than a messenger.