“No,” Papa Ozee said, turning away to wave the smoking herbs around a display of books. “But Veronica stole his phone.”
Veronica shot him a look that was equal parts surprise and anger. Then she shrugged. “He dropped it on the sidewalk, and I took it. It’s nicer than mine.”
“Give it to the girl,” Papa Ozee ordered her.
Veronica stepped behind the counter and picked up her bag. She rummaged around in it, pulled out a cell, and tossed it at M. She barely managed to catch it. Her fingers had started to tremble.
M didn’t bother replying. She got out of the shop as fast as she could without knocking over anything with the duffel, then she leaned against the peeling wall and hit the texts icon.
She opened the top one, and began skimming the conversation. The day was sweltering, but M felt as if all the heat was draining from her body, leaving only a cold ache. Message after message confirmed her deepest fears.
ASH: I can handle her. You’ll get the pieces as soon as I get them.
ASH: You’ll spook her if you show up. She thinks we’re working together. Let me finish it alone.
ASH: We’re getting close. Be patient. She trusts me now.
She couldn’t bring herself to read any more. Ash had played her.
Of course he did, she thought. He played everyone, his parents, his friends, everyone in the religion he grew up in. He’s a zealot. He would do anything for Horus.
Fury blasted through her, burning away the hurt and despair. She didn’t need the Eye to save her father. And she certainly didn’t need Ash.
She took out her cell and hit speed dial. When Liza answered, M didn’t bother to say hello.
“I want to make a trade,” she said. “The head of the Set animal for my father.”
* * *
Tall flowers in fuchsia and pale pink brushed against M’s legs as she strode across the field that ran beside Mike’s convent in Thailand. She was alone. She’d practically had to tie Mike up to keep her from coming, but M didn’t want her there. Using this place was as close as M was willing to let Mike get to the cult of Set.
When she reached a spot near the dirt road leading to the convent gates, she stopped. All she could do now was wait.
A fat bumble bee buzzed lazily around one of the cosmos, and M felt a pang of regret. It was so beautiful in the field, so peaceful, and she’d invited something evil here. Liza had pushed M to come to the Set compound, as if M wouldn’t realize how easy it would be to kill her and her father if they met there. She really had never noticed how smart M was, even after living with her for almost a year.
M had countered with meeting in St. Patrick’s Cathedral in New York City. She’d liked the idea of a sacred place where witnesses were guaranteed, but Liza refused to meet there or on any sacred ground. They’d gone back and forth until they’d agreed on the field outside the convent.
The bumble bee flew off. M pulled the duffel higher on her shoulder and used one arm to press it tightly against her side. The hard plastic of the kennel shrine bit into her ribs, but she liked knowing it was there. The cult of Set had one piece; M had one piece. She didn’t know which—if either—would have the stronger power of attraction. If it was theirs, her piece would fly to join it from who knew how far away. That’s why her piece wasn’t leaving the shrine until she saw her father. If Liza thought M bringing a portable sacred space to the meet-up was a violation of their deal, screw her.
M wished she had a way to destroy the piece. That would have given her the advantage. If they didn’t hand over her father—bam, she’d blow up the piece and they’d never be able to resurrect their god. They’d never risk it. But they both knew that destroying the piece was impossible.
She kept her eyes on the road. After what felt like an eternity, a sedan rounded the corner. An SUV and another sedan followed.
“Here we go,” she muttered. She glanced at the open convent gates. Could she sprint through them fast enough if the deal went south? A flash of movement in one of the convent windows caught her eye, and she grinned. A figure in a black-and-white habit stood there—and in every other window facing the field. Whatever happened, she’d have a whole bunch of nuns as witnesses.
The cars pulled to a stop about thirty feet away. Bob and Liza stepped out of the first car and started toward her—alone. M cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted, “Don’t come over here without my father. Or I’ll never tell you where the piece is.”
“You said you’d bring it,” Liza called back.
“You said you’d bring my father,” M answered.
Bob flicked two fingers in the air. The back door of the SUV slid open, and her father stumbled out, flanked by two bodyguards, each holding one of his arms.
Dad. It was Dad. Standing in the field, his sandy hair a mess like always, his greenish eyes locking onto hers. He was there, he was alive. Until this moment, she hadn’t let herself believe it fully.
M let out a cry of joy. “Here’s what you want. Take it and get out.” She flung the duffel bag deeper into the field and raced toward her father.
* * *
The car had stopped. It felt like they’d been driving on a dirt road for a least a few miles. There shouldn’t be a stoplight or even a stop sign out here. It was time for Ash to make his move.
He rolled onto his side, and winced. He was sure at least one of his ribs had been cracked during the beating he’d been given when they found him, and his vision was still blurry from the kick in the head he’d gotten from someone wearing heavy steel-tipped boots. His lack of food over the past few days didn’t help.
The cult of Set knew it was harder for Ash to use his power when he was weak. It was something his parents had figured out—and used against him—when he was a kid.
But he’d had a lot of training since then, training that had taught him how to go deep beneath the pain to a still place within. There he could call on Horus and invite the god’s power into his body.
It didn’t take long, not anymore. With a few deep breaths, he felt the presence of Horus inside him. He wouldn’t be able to wield it for as long as he could when he was fit, but it should be enough to get him out.
Ash focused on the trunk and directed all the power he could summon at it. With a screech of metal against metal, the door rolled up like a sardine can being opened. He didn’t allow himself to cry out as he hauled himself up and half fell onto the ground, even though the movement blasted agony through every nerve.
He blinked rapidly to clear his vision. A field. Followers of Set, running toward some kind of big bag in the grass. His father. His mother. Hugh.
M.
Clinging to her father and staring at him with incomprehension. What the hell was she doing here? The Set acolytes must have left people behind at the cemetery. They must have grabbed her the second she got back.
“M,” he managed to croak, his mouth dry and rough as sandpaper. “I’m sorry. They found—”
She took a step away from her father, moving toward Ash. “You weren’t there. That girl, she said you got in a cab with a man. I thought—I was sure it was Philip. The texts…” He saw the moment the truth hit her. The confusion replaced by devastation.
Seeing her horror, Ash instantly understood. The cult of Set hadn’t taken her. She’d made a bargain. When he wasn’t waiting at the cemetery the way he’d promised, she assumed he’d taken the three pieces to the Eye.
She had just traded the final piece of the Set animal for her father. Now the cult had them all.
She hadn’t trusted him. Not after all they’d gone through. She’d looked at him and seen what his parents saw, what pretty much everyone saw. A liar. Someone disgusting, repulsive, not even human.
He turned away. He couldn’t look at her.
“Ash!” she called, a plea in her voice. He could hear her pain, but before he could decide how to respond another voice rang out.
“Ashwin!” His father’s voice boomed across the field. “I wanted y
ou to be here to see this. I want you to witness the power of the god you chose to reject.”
Avid expectation lit his father’s face. His mother’s eyes blazed with anticipation. Hugh’s lips were moving in what Ash was sure was prayer. In moments they would see their god.
Philip had been right. Ash should have brought the very first piece back to the Eye. Keeping just one piece safe could have prevented this. Now it was too late. For millennia, the Eye had kept Set from rising, and now it was all Ash’s fault they had failed.
The Asim stepped out of the SUV, holding a large piece of flat stone in his hands. Ash recognized it immediately. It came from the ruins of one of the temples at Ombus and was used every time an offering was made to Set.
The Asim didn’t even glance at Ash. The last time they’d seen each other was when Ash first arrived at the compound last year, saying he wanted to rejoin the cult of Set. The Asim had interrogated him for several days before allowing him to stay. Using the stillness Philip had taught him, Ash had fooled the Asim. He would never be forgiven for that.
Ash’s parents, Hugh, and the woman who was the Asim’s second-in-command each took a canopic jar from the van and followed the Asim into the field, walking single file. Ash knew Hugh had moved up high in the organization, and he couldn’t help feeling a strange burst of pride. His best friend was a true believer, utterly devoted. Ash was glad that the association with him hadn’t hurt Hugh’s position.
They stopped when the Asim set the stone slab on the ground. His second gestured to another Set worshipper Ash didn’t recognize, and the woman approached, anointed the slab with oil, and retreated.
Ash’s mother opened the jar she carried, reached in, and reverently removed one of the Set pieces. She placed it on the glistening slab and stepped back. Ash’s father opened his jar. As soon as he removed the Set piece it flew from his fingers. It melded with the first piece with a sharp click.
Ash had to stop this. He tried to open himself to Horus, but using the power to get out of the trunk had exhausted him. His body couldn’t be used as a vessel, not without time to regain his strength.
M let out a moan of despair, finally running over to him, her father right behind her. None of the Set acolytes seemed to care about them anymore. “I thought you took the other pieces to the Eye. I thought they were safe,” she cried. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I should have trusted you.”
“No.” He wasn’t going to let her believe that. “It was as much my fault as yours. If I’d told you the truth from the beginning—”
“You did more than anyone should expect from you,” Dr. Engel interrupted. “You betrayed your family to try to save us all.”
“They weren’t my family anymore. Not—” Ash began. A sharp click jerked his attention back to the field. The third Set piece had attached itself to the other two. Hugh opened his jar, reached inside, and pulled out the fourth piece. It ripped itself out of his hand. A streak of black, another click, and the Set piece was almost complete.
“The last piece is in that bag.” M’s voice was oddly quiet and calm. Perhaps she still didn’t believe. But the throbbing noise from all the pieces was so strong that it felt as if the earth itself was vibrating.
The Asim knelt beside the bag. Ash started for it, but one of the Set acolytes shoved him back.
M reached out and laced her fingers with his. “Can’t you use your power?” she whispered.
Ash shook his head, red spots exploding behind his eyelids. “Not without some rest,” he admitted. She reached for her father with her free hand. Ash searched for something to say to her, there had to be something in these last few moments they had together, the last few moments they had in the world.
The sound of a helicopter pulled him away from his thoughts. He jerked his head up. It was Phillip. It had to be.
“The Eye!” he told M. “They’re here.” Maybe they could stop what Ash had allowed to happen.
But the Asim was opening the duffel. He reached inside, and had to fling himself facedown on the ground when the last piece rocketed free and slammed home, joining with the rest of the Set artifact. Fusing together for the first time in thousands of years.
Philip was too late.
Ash had failed him. He’d failed the Eye. They’d taken him in and he’d vowed to devote his life to keeping the world safe from Set—and he’d failed. He’d failed M. He’d failed everyone. Most of all, he’d failed Horus. He’d failed his god.
He pulled his hand from M’s and strode away. He didn’t deserve to stand with her. Not when he was to blame for all of this.
The Set animal was complete. The god of the underworld was coming.
CHAPTER 23
The sky darkened. The air, then the ground, vibrated with a sound so low it was almost inaudible, like the sound the individual Set pieces made, only amplified a hundred times over. It invaded M’s entire body, hammering at her skull, the delicate bones of her ears, and every joint that connected her frame.
The tiny blood vessels in her eyes began to pulse, and when she looked at her father, she saw that a splotch of blood the size of a dime had appeared in one of his eyes.
Her stomach cramped as the vibration moved deeper inside her. Everyone on the field and the road doubled over, struck by the same overpowering force. M forced her head up. She needed to know what was happening.
The Set animal, so small, so insignificant looking, was shaking. It began to morph, stretching out and up until it loomed seven feet over the ground. The skin of its body went from shiny black to the golden brown of human flesh. The head sprouted hair. There were elements of jackal, fox, and even aardvark in the length of its snout in that face, but it was wholly alien. She’d seen carvings and statues depicting Set, but nothing had prepared her for this. Even with the god standing so close that she could smell the human sweat and animal musk, she could hardly make herself accept what she was seeing. She couldn’t look away as it stood there, tail thrashing around massive legs as if it had a will of its own.
M tightened her grip on her father’s hand. It felt thin, bony, and when she looked at his face she saw that his skin had a gray tint and his cheeks were hollow. He stared at Set with an expression of weariness and defeat. But when he looked back at her, his eyes filled with the love she’d always seen there. He squeezed her hand back. At least they were together again.
The horrible sound fell silent, and M slowly straightened all the way up. Set stared around the field, eyes darting as the god took in everything. He threw up his arms, tilted his head back, and gave a long howl of joy and triumph. The wind whipped up as if in answer, bending the flowers almost horizontal, tearing huge hunks of grass out of the ground.
M could hardly bear to look at him, all the little hairs on the back of her neck and her arms standing up in primitive revulsion. But Bob and Liza, along with the other worshippers of Set, stared at him with ecstasy on their faces. Tears of rapture streamed down Bob’s cheeks. It sickened her. These people had taken her father from her and let her believe he was dead. Bob and Liza had lied to her every single day. They’d abused their own son. And all for this demon.
Raw rage flooded through her. Without pausing to think, she dropped her father’s hand and charged at Bob, fighting her way through the magical wind churning around the giant god. She flipped out her bo staff and slammed it into Bob’s kneecap. He staggered toward Set, and reached out to his god to stop himself from falling.
The wind lashing around the god jerked Bob off his feet. Bob bucked and twisted in the air, then with a string of sharp cracks, his bones began to break. He shrieked as a bloody piece of broken tibia tore through his pants. One of his arms flopped as his shoulder shattered.
M covered her mouth with her hand and stumbled back in horror. Set didn’t seem to notice as Bob’s neck snapped and his lifeless body continued to circle in the gale. Instead the god appeared to be grinning with his mutant face. He flexed his fingers and stretched, reveling in having a body again.
> She turned and ran to Ash, yelling into his ear so he could hear her over the wailing wind. “I didn’t mean for that to happen. It just— The wind grabbed him.” Ash hated his father, but seeing him die in such a hideous way … she couldn’t even imagine what he must be feeling.
Ash pulled her close. “He wanted this. He wanted to reincarnate Set. He made the choice.”
“What do we do? How do we stop this?” She looked up into his face.
It had gone slack.
Cold dread swept through her body. “Ash?” He still held her close, but his eyes were blank, staring through her as they had when they were hiding behind the Buddha. He didn’t recognize her.
M shook him. “Ash!” Her voice came out shrill with fear. He pushed her away, like she meant nothing to him, like he didn’t even know who she was.
Then he turned and strode toward Set.
* * *
Ash was paralyzed, yet his body was moving, legs taking long strides, arms swinging. His mouth opened and a shout erupted from his throat, the words in an ancient language, but one Ash understood immediately—“Today I avenge my father.”
Set whirled toward him and let out a rush of snarling barks, then raced toward Ash. Toward Horus. In the past, Ash had directed Horus’s power as it flowed through him, but now Ash was nothing but a spectator in his own body. The god had taken him over completely. Ash couldn’t even blink. Everything was controlled by Horus.
God channeler. He had never understood, until now, what that truly meant. He was nothing more than a vessel, a tool for Horus to use at will.
His body rammed into Set’s with a hideous thud, Ash helpless as Horus and Set both crashed to the ground. Set immediately grabbed Horus’s—Ash’s—neck with his teeth. Everything in Ash wanted to react, to protect himself, but his body wouldn’t obey his commands.
Horus wrapped his hands around Set’s throat and squeezed, choking him. Ash could feel the thick fur under his fingers, the ridges of Set’s trachea as Horus crushed it. Set began to wheeze. But instead of releasing Ash—Horus—Set tightened his jaws, digging his teeth deeper into Ash’s throat.
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