I Do Not Trust You

by Laura J. Burns

  “On Philae?” she asked. “You mean … underwater?”

  CHAPTER 12

  M hugged Dr. Bashir. “I can’t thank you enough. I promise I’ll bring it all back in one piece.”

  The older woman waved off the thanks and nodded toward Ash, who was already climbing into the boat. “Are you positive you can trust this boy? I’ve never heard of him.”

  “He was doing grunt work researching a Set cult with my dad,” M replied glibly. It was true enough, and Dr. Bashir didn’t need to know more. “But I’ll run the machine, I won’t let him touch it.”

  Dr. Bashir chuckled. “All right then. Have fun.”

  M climbed on board and nudged Ash away from the ship’s wheel with her hip. “I’m driving. She doesn’t trust you.”

  “And she trusts you with this kind of equipment?” he replied. “You’re a kid!”

  M raised an eyebrow. “I’m a legal adult.”

  “Barely,” he muttered, but she could tell he was kidding.

  “Dr. Bashir has known me my whole life. She’s the one who taught me how to pilot a boat, and how to use the sub-bottom profiler.” M headed out into Lake Nasser, the reservoir made by the Aswan Dam. She had the coordinates for Philae Island—it was obvious where it was—but finding the exact original spot of the temple would require work. Ash theorized the Eye would have hidden the Set piece at the mammisi honoring the birth of Horus. So they were looking for an old portion of the former foundation. “She and my dad went to grad school together.”

  “Still,” he said. “She doesn’t own the profiler, her university does. It’s a risk letting us take it at all.”

  M shrugged. “I’m family to her.” She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. Whenever she mentioned family, Ash tensed up. Today was no different. He’d hinted at trouble with his parents, and curiosity was getting the better of her. And maybe if she understood him, she’d know how to convince him to tell her where Dad was.

  * * *

  “Okay, here’s Philae,” she announced, slowing them over the submerged island.

  It took the better part of an hour to isolate the general location of the ancient mammisi and start the sub-bottom profiler. Now there was nothing to do but wait.

  “It’s using sonar to do what? Find rock?” Ash asked over the whirring of the big machine that took up the entire bow of the boat.

  “It analyzes the different layers of sediment to make a map of what’s there. We’re hoping it will find a block of stone different from the ground it’s built on.” She sighed. “This is a lot of effort for a hunch. I hope you’re right.”

  “I am. I’m certain of it. I can feel it,” he replied.

  M refrained from saying something sarcastic. He seemed so rational until he started talking about his religion, then he just seemed nuts.

  “Is that a thing with Horus? He talks to his followers?”

  “No. I have a … special connection,” Ash said. “Even so, it’s not that he speaks to me. But for some reason, right now, I’m sure. It’s like I can feel the piece of Set.”

  “Can you feel the piece I have?” she asked. She could sense it at the edge of her consciousness—always throbbing at that strange low frequency.

  “You mean the sound? I can feel the vibration. But that’s not what I mean.” He didn’t explain further. They sat in silence for a while, listening to water slap against the hull and the occasional pinging of the profiler. M leaned back in the captain’s chair, slowly eased the piece of the artifact out of her backpack, and lowered it into the pile of life preservers stacked behind her. The entire time, she watched Ash. He was gazing out across the waters of the Nile, his face utterly motionless, his expression serene. Once she was sure the piece was hidden, she casually tossed her backpack in the other direction. Then she closed her eyes and tilted her face up to the sun.

  “You’ve been there before, huh? To the Temple of Isis?” she asked.

  “Philip—my mentor—he began my training there,” Ash said.

  “Your training?” she repeated. “Is that different from just learning the religion? Are you a priest?” How had she managed to miss that? It explained his devotion to Horus, a devotion so extreme he was willing to let her father die for it.

  “In a way. It’s not quite that simple.”

  “Are you chosen? Or is it like being a lama—do the older priests just decide when you’re born that you were meant for the priesthood?” she asked. “Did you grow up knowing?”

  “I didn’t grow up in the Eye at all,” he said.

  M sat up in surprise, opening her eyes. “What?”

  “I thought you knew everything about me—didn’t you tell me I grew up rich in Sutton Coldfield?” he teased.

  “Right, but I assumed you were born into the Eye,” she said. It was the only way a normal guy believing in an ancient, extinct religion made sense.

  “No. I joined them when I was sixteen.” He squinted at her, blocking the sun with his hand. “I say ‘joined,’ but it was more like they took me in. They essentially saved my life.”

  “From what?”

  Ash pursed his lips and looked away, not answering.

  “So the Eye isn’t only your religion. They’re your family,” she said.

  “No.” The word was a weapon, sharp and biting. M didn’t allow herself to react. She’d really gotten to him.

  He took a deep breath and unclenched his fists, turning to look into her eyes. “They’re not my family. My family was nothing but shame and misery. The Eye is Horus, and Horus is everything.”

  “But Horus—” she began.

  The pinging of the sub-bottom profiler sped up, becoming an insistent bing-bing-bing that put an end to their conversation.

  “Rock!” she exclaimed. “Time to get suited up.”

  * * *

  The only thing different is you’re underwater. It was what her father had said the first time he took her to a submerged dig site. Mike had laughed, but M had understood what Dad meant. The archeology was the same—what mattered, mattered. The only thing different was water. Sea life over the relics instead of rocks or later construction.

  As M swam toward Philae, she glanced at Ash. He’d only been scuba diving once, so she had to keep an eye on him. He caught her looking and smiled, giving a thumbs up. There were a few structures left on the island, abandoned to the flood. But her focus was on the spot where the mammisi had stood for over two thousand years. She hadn’t told Ash, but the profiler’s results had been bizarre, like nothing she’d seen before. Under normal circumstances, she’d have assumed it was malfunctioning. Now, though, she had a feeling they were aiming for the piece of Set itself. She hadn’t had much time to examine the piece in her possession—Ash was always around, and the way he’d looked at it back in Paris was the way a dog looked at a steak. But in the brief moments when she was alone, she’d studied the small rock and found it baffling. It wasn’t like anything she’d ever seen, and she was certain that’s why the profiler had gone wild.

  Philae Island was made of syenite, something the machine was calibrated to analyze. Whatever it had found here was unclassifiable.

  An enormous blue-silver fish brushed by her—Nile perch, she thought—and M glanced over at Ash to see his reaction. Not because the perch was so big, but because the stories about Philae had always said fish wouldn’t come near due to its sacred nature. Ash watched the beast swim by, but didn’t seem bothered. Maybe the Eye told different tales.

  M swam down to the “surface” of the island, skimming what used to be its shoreline, her mind overlaying the original layout of the temple complex onto the lonely space below. Every so often she’d spot a piece of pottery or small carving left behind. This place had been revered for millennia, and now it was lost to time, meaningless. Something about it just made her feel sad.

  Checking her coordinates, she slowed. The mammisi had been built ten yards away, but the profiler had found the anomaly here. She pointed, so Ash would know they�
��d arrived. A layer of silt covered everything, so she gestured for the equipment he carried.

  The only difference is we’re underwater, she reminded herself again as she set up the vacuum tube to remove the silt. Even the tools were sometimes the same. Within minutes she was able to see a paving stone embedded in the island. She shined her light down, realizing it was part of a subfloor used to even out the ground beneath the temple.

  M ran her fingers over the ridges on the rock. It was crisscrossed with small lines, likely from the weight of the temple columns resting on it for so long, and a crack that snaked across the entire thing. Bingo.

  She put her fingers into the crack and pulled as hard as she could, trying to pry it open. It didn’t budge. She turned to Ash, motioning. He grabbed on to one edge of the crack and she took the other. Their eyes met, and she nodded.

  They both pulled.

  The rock shifted, no more than a millimeter. M caught a glimpse of black, a small bit of stone her mind instantly recognized and categorized—the torso of a Set animal—as it tore through the opening, taking out a chunk of the subfloor. The piece shot through the water like a torpedo, the power of it forcing M and Ash backward.

  She fought to right herself, her shocked gaze tracking the artifact as it rocketed through the water. Within seconds, it had vanished into the murky depths.

  Ash took off the same instant she did, swimming full-force after the piece.

  M only got about ten feet before a riot of bubbles and whitewater obscured her vision. When it cleared, she was staring at crocodile teeth. Adrenalin took over and M ducked, diving under the creature’s sharp jaws. She shoved herself forward, trying to swim past it, but from below she could see how massive it was. It was turning, diving in pursuit of her.

  M spun around and kicked its snout, using the force to propel herself up toward the surface. The bubbles meant it had just dived in, and her brain frantically searched for how long Nile crocodiles could remain submerged. It was a long time, she knew. She had to escape or fight it off; she couldn’t wait for it to leave.

  The vacuum tube was still back at the temple site, but she had a digging tool in her belt. She pulled it out and prepared to attack, wishing she had her bo staff instead.

  The croc lunged, and M darted to the side. It was hard to do anything quickly with the scuba gear on, and she had to be careful not to damage the oxygen tank—the crocodile couldn’t be allowed anywhere near it.

  It lunged again, and she slammed the digger down toward the beast’s eye with both hands. She missed, but struck something. It retreated, taking the digger with it.

  Ash. Where is Ash?

  She glanced about, getting her bearings, remembering the path the piece of Set had taken. That was where she found Ash, hovering uncertainly in the direction it had gone, looking back at her.

  It’s been less than a minute, she realized. She’d been so occupied by the croc that it felt like a year, but the artifact was still leaving a trail through the water. She swam toward Ash.

  A second crocodile burst into the water between them.

  M elbowed it in the nose and went sideways, preparing to kick. The first croc streaked back from behind her, the digger sticking out of its head. Without thinking, she jerked it free, but the croc was too fast for her to stab again. The two beasts moved in, surrounding her.

  Desperate, she looked for Ash. He hadn’t moved. The crocs were ignoring him, and he was still floating in the path of the Set piece. Their eyes met.

  He was a stranger. A wild-eyed, strung-out stranger. There was no recognition in his gaze, no concern, nothing but raw hunger. He wanted to chase the artifact. It was the only thing he cared about.

  M was on her own.

  The betrayal felt like a body blow, but there was no time for emotions. She put Ash out of her mind and focused on the crocodiles. Could she get to their bellies and stab there? They were so big her small tool probably couldn’t do fatal damage, but maybe if one was hurt, the other would turn on it. Then she could escape while they fought.

  M took the digger in both hands; she had to at least try. The first crocodile lunged. M dove and rolled, but the second croc was there already. Jaws wide open, ready to close around her legs. It was too fast. She couldn’t maneuver away. M steeled herself for the pain.

  The croc’s jaws stayed open.

  Time seemed to stop. The crocodile was frozen. The one above her was, too, stuck mid-turn, trying to follow her as she rolled beneath it.

  M scrambled to swim out of reach of the snapping jaws, unable to process what was happening. It’s not frozen, she realized. Just moving slowly.

  The open mouth was twitching, trying to free itself from something. Its body thrashed from side to side as if to shake off an attacker. But it was all at half-speed, slower even. The croc above was opening its mouth to snap, but again it moved slowly, as if …

  As if …

  The water around the crocodiles looked wrong. Not like liquid. More like Jell-O. M swam back further, realizing that gelatinous water had surrounded both crocodiles, forming a protective bubble around them. The lunging beasts were panicking now but couldn’t move fast enough to break free.

  Through her confusion, M became aware of her heart slamming against her chest, her pulse pounding in fear. She turned to swim to the surface.

  Ash was there.

  He floated behind the crocs, his hands out, the strange gelatinous water streaming from them to form the bubbles around the attacking beasts. Somehow, Ash was creating this bizarre protection.

  M gaped at him, astonishment rendering her mind blank.

  Ash’s eyes rolled back in his head. His body went slack.

  M snapped out of her shock. She sped toward him as he began to sink, wormed her arm around his chest, and pulled him as fast as she could toward the surface, all the while hoping the crocodiles were still trapped.

  The sunlight grew stronger as she swam, until she could see the bottom of the boat. Her head broke the surface and she stroked hard toward the boat, dragging Ash with her. When she reached it, she grabbed a clip and attached it to his suit. Pulling off her scuba mask as she climbed, she got on board, then turned to Ash.

  He was dead weight, but she had to get him out before the crocs came back. Using all her strength, she hauled him up and over the side, letting them both fall to the deck. She rolled him over and pulled his mask off.

  “Ash,” she said loudly, resting her hands on his cheeks. “Ash!”

  For a terrible moment, nothing happened. His dark skin looked gray and his eyes remained closed. His lips were parted, slack.

  Then he drew in a deep, shuddering breath. His eyes opened and he shot up to a sitting position.

  “Easy,” M cried, grabbing his shoulders. “You passed out.”

  He nodded, crumpling back against the side of the boat, his body leaning on hers. They sat in silence for a minute.

  “Are you okay?” M asked.

  Ash nodded again.

  “Good,” she said. “Now tell me what the hell just happened.”

  It was as if she could see his resistance vanish. He was too weak to sit up straight, much less keep lying to her the way he’d obviously been lying all along. “The crocodiles would have killed you. I used the power of Horus to save you,” he said.

  “The power of Horus,” she repeated. When he didn’t answer, she realized what he meant. “Power? As in magic?”

  “I’m not supposed to let outsiders know. But you were in danger, and I couldn’t let you…” His voice trailed off.

  “You’re spent. Whatever that was, it exhausted you,” she said.

  “Yes.”

  “Thank you,” M said, pulling him into a tight hug. Had she even bothered to say that yet? “For saving me. I thought you were just going to go after the piece of Set.”

  “M,” he said, reproach in his voice. “I never even considered that.”

  She smiled into his neck. “Well, thanks.”

  “You’re w
elcome.” He brought his arms up, weakly hugging her back.

  Again, no one spoke. The hot midday sun beat down on them, and the water plunked against the boat.

  “Seriously, what the hell?” M exploded, pushing him away. “Magic? That was magic? Your cult teaches you, what? Telekinesis?”

  “They didn’t teach me. I was born with it,” Ash said. “All my life I could access this power. I tried never to use it, but sometimes, when I was afraid or angry, I couldn’t stop myself. It just … came out.”

  Something about his expression made M lean closer. His voice shook. “Why didn’t you want to use it? Does it hurt people?”

  “No. Well, yes. It can hurt people, but that’s not why. I was taught it was wrong. My parents said the power was the work of— They said it was wrong, that I was a disgrace for having it.”

  Was this why his parents had treated him poorly? “Did they think you were possessed by the devil or something?”

  Ash closed his eyes, and when he spoke it was in a monotone. “They punished me when I used the power. They hated me for having it. I was considered an embarrassment to them. They threw me out when I was fourteen.”

  M drew in a sharp breath. No wonder Ash didn’t understand her devotion to her father. “What did you do?”

  “I went to Paris.” He laughed, a thin, choking sound. “Like Baptiste told you, and tried to be an artist. I don’t know why. I guess I finally felt free to be who I wanted.”

  “What happened?”

  “Being free meant that for the first time I felt allowed to use my power.” Ash opened his eyes and turned his face to her. “I had fun with it; I’d never done that before. But I also needed it to live. I used it to scam people for money, food, a place to live. I felt justified. But I also liked it.”

  “Well, you’d been powerless all your life. Of course you liked it,” she murmured.

  He looked startled. “Right. Anyway, I had power but I was also a dumb kid. I attracted the wrong kind of friends, and I let them talk me into using it for more hardcore things.”

  “Like what?”