by Tanya Huff
“I’m looking for tissues.”
“To send away for forensic testing?”
“To keep from filling the washing machine with little bits of wet tissue.” He closed the lid, checked that the water temperature was on cold/cold, and started the timer. “I know I’ll be after regretting this, but what kind of clues did you think I’d find? If Meryat’s the bad guy…girl…”
“Corpse.”
Given the look he’d got at her face, that was hard to argue with. “…then isn’t Dr. Rebik the victim?”
“So?”
“So what kind of clues would he have in his pockets?”
“An amulet controlling his free will. A note written in a moment of clear-headedness begging for rescue. And maybe he’s not a victim at all; maybe he’s helping her in return for a slice of the world domination pie.”
“Maybe I should never have taped that Scooby Doo marathon for you.”
“He’s a dog,” Austin snorted, jumping down and following Dean up the basement stairs. “He’s not going to notice anything he didn’t sniff off someone’s butt. I’m telling you there was something in the bedroom last night and probably the night before!”
“Okay, let’s say there was.” Dean bent and lifted the cat up onto the kitchen counter, sanitary issues losing out over the inconvenience of holding a conversation with someone six feet closer to the floor. “But just because you sensed something, that doesn’t mean it was Meryat. It’s not like this place hasn’t had visitors before. Ghosts, imps,” he added when Austin merely scowled at him.
“I knew what you meant; I just think you’re an idiot.” Sitting down, he swept his tail regally around in front of his paws. “I talked to the mice.”
After a moment spent trying to match up the end of that declaration to the beginning, Dean surrendered. “Okay.”
“The mice,” Austin told him in a tone that suggested idiot was actually a little high on the scale, “said that the dead mouse I found in room two was just a kid; six months old, prime of his little rodent life.”
“And?”
“Oh, for the love of kibble, would you at least try to connect the dots!” Leaping to his feet, he paced to the end of the counter and back again, his tail covering twice the horizontal distance. “That mouse had his life sucked out right next to the mummy!”
“So you’re saying that sucking the life out of that mouse gave Meryat—who can barely walk at the best of times—enough energy to get downstairs and then back upstairs again moving so fast that you couldn’t see her? Some mouse.”
“You’re forgetting her visit to you. The mouse only had to get her downstairs.”
“And you don’t think I’d notice if a reanimated Egyptian mummy was su…” Cheeks flushed, he suddenly decided there’d been a little too much use of the verb to suck in recent conversations. “…absorbing my energy?”
“You spent six months not noticing a hole to Hell,” Austin muttered, “I’m not sure you’d notice if a reanimated Egyptian mummy was doing the Macarena.”
“Hey! I’d notice. Nobody does the Macarena anymore.”
“Oh, give her a break! She’s been dead for three thousand years, it takes a while to catch up.”
“If we’re talking three thousand years,” Dean snapped, “she’d be doing the hustle!”
The silence that followed was so complete, the distant sound of skateboarders in a neighbor’s pool came clearly though the open dining room windows.
“Dude, what’s with the water?”
After another long moment during which it became clear that neither skateboards nor skateboarders could float, Dean managed to find his voice.
“Did I just make a disco reference?”
Austin nodded.
“Lord t’underin’ Jesus.”
Austin nodded again. “If that’s not a sign there’s evil energies about, I don’t know what is.”
“Granted. But that still doesn’t mean it’s Meryat.”
“Why are you so resistant to the obvious?”
“Maybe I just like the thought of people being in love without any sucking going on!”
Oh, yeah. Definitely too much use of the verb to suck. He kind of wished he’d remembered that.
But all Austin said was, “I wish Claire was here.”
ELEVEN
CLAIRE CLOSED HER FINGERS just a little too tightly around Lance’s arm. They were standing at one end of a massive hall—although massive didn’t really do the place justice—on a pair of circles made of the only red tiles visible in a blue-and-gold mosaic floor. Just to be on the safe side, she looked up and breathed a sigh of relief. So far, no falling anvils. Behind them was a set of what looked like fifty-foot-high, solid gold doors. In front of them, a double line of huge pillars disappeared into the darkness above. If they were supporting a roof, Claire couldn’t see it. The walls behind the pillars appeared to be covered in tiny black dots although, given how far away they were, it was entirely possible they were covered in huge black dots. Light levels were comfortably bright in spite of no visible light source—which was hardly surprising as ambient light was the one thing pretty much every reality took a crack at. If she’d been in one cave with phosphorescent fungus, she’d been in fifty.
“So. Where are we?” she asked, a little surprised by how calm she sounded. They were no longer on the Otherside—either Otherside—that much and that much alone she was sure of. Well, that and how much she’d like to kick Lance.
“I don’t know!”
Not exactly a surprise.
“What were you thinking when we went through the door?” Maybe calm wasn’t exactly the right word. Tight was closer.
“That if I didn’t get it right this time, you were going to give me hell.”
“This isn’t Hell.”
“How can you be so sure?” Lance demanded, turning to stare down at her with wide eyes.
“It’s my job to be sure.”
“Of Hell?”
“Of what isn’t Hell.” While he was thinking about that, she turned to face the doors. Doors were doors. Fifty feet high and solid gold, two feet high at the end of a rabbit hole—it didn’t matter. If she could get them open and fit through over the threshold, she could use them. In this particular instance, getting them open might be tricky since the doorknobs were a good twenty feet above her head.
A quick glance around determined the area was unfortunately empty of a small table holding a bottle and a note that said, Drink me.
“Incoming!”
Does he have to sound so cheerful about it? Claire turned again and watched as two figures approached from the far end of the hall. Of course, since she couldn’t see the far end of the hall that was an assumption only. Wherever they’d come from, they were moving fast.
Very fast.
Impossibly fast.
One moment they were barely visible in the distance. The next, they were standing barely two meters away.
On the left stood a cat-headed woman, barely covered from neck to ankles in a sheer linen shift. Her fur was pale brown with darker fur outlining golden eyes, lighter fur around the mouth, and two large pointed ears; both pierced, with a small gold ring in each.
On the right, a jackal-headed man, naked to the waist, wearing a pleated linen skirt held in place by a wide leather belt. Two small metal disks, stamped with hieroglyphs, hung from the front of the belt.
Do not go there, Claire warned herself. It doesn’t matter what it looks like, just do not go there.
“I know where we are,” Lance offered helpfully.
“So do I.” When PhD candidates in Egyptology thought about Hell, they didn’t think about Dante. Granted, neither did Keepers, but that was mostly because they preferred not thinking about hell at all and they sure as…heck…had no intention of handing it helpful definitions.
“They aren’t dead,” Anubis growled.
Bast shot him a disdainful golden glare. “And once again I marvel at your grasp of the obvious.”
“If they aren’t dead, why are they here?”
“Since they aren’t dead, why don’t we ask them? Or maybe you could fill in the details with a little butt sniffing.”
His eyes narrowed. “It doesn’t work that way.”
Claire bit her lip to keep from laughing. Apparently jackals were just as clueless about sarcasm as dogs. She’d seen Austin reduce Rottweilers to twitching bundles of confusion with only a few barbed comments about their bathroom habits. Of course, the chances were good Anubis didn’t drink out of the toilet.
As though thoughts of Austin had pulled her attention, Bast turned the full force of her golden gaze on Claire. “You’re a Keeper, but this isn’t one of the realities you Keep. Why are you here?”
Lesson number one in dealing with gods: don’t lie to them. “I’m trying to return to a situation on the Otherside, but circumstances have landed me with a Bystander and his thoughts keep turning the paths.”
And the corollary to lesson one: keep it simple.
The cat goddess glanced over at Lance. “He holds his thoughts strongly?”
“Oh, yeah. Once he gets something into his head you can’t shift it.”
And right on cue:
“I know why we’re here. This is Meryat’s work! She’s trying to stop me from stopping her by sending me to the Hall of Osiris!”
“Lance…”
“No! It all makes perfect sense!” He gripped her shoulder with one hand and waved the other around the Hall. “She’s trying to cheat the afterlife by sending me…us…in her place.”
“When the ka is strong enough…” Bast began.
“This ka has been bound between life and death for three thousand years,” Lance interrupted. He ignored Claire’s elbow in his ribs—interrupting gods was never a smart action in her experience—and continued. “As soon as it was freed, it sucked the life out of Dr. Rebik.”
Anubis shrugged. “It happens.”
“It does?”
“Sure. Not as much as it used to, though.”
“But that’s not what happened this time,” Claire insisted. “I don’t know about Dr. Rebik and the life-sucking part…” Although, given that Meryat was staying at the guest house, she really hoped Dean was right and Lance’s lunatic theories were just that. Lunatic. She had to get back to the mall and Diana, so she’d have to trust Austin to keep Dean safe. “…but I do know exactly why we’re here.” She pointed at Lance. “Bystander. Path. Idiot.”
Bast nodded, gold ring swinging as she flicked her ear. “I believe you. After three thousand years, this Meryat would have to absorb a truly powerful ka, the ka of a Keeper, say, in order to have enough strength to rip the veil between the world of the living and the world of the dead.”
The pieces began to fall together. If Meryat would be that strong after absorbing the ka of a Keeper…“She’s waiting for me to return to the guest house. Dean’s safe enough until I get back, and then she’ll take him in order to take me.”
“I can stop her.”
Claire turned to glare at Lance. “You’re not there. And unless you get a grip on your thought processes, you may never be there!”
“That’s not our concern,” Bast pointed out a little sharply.
Right. Don’t ignore the cat goddess…
“No, it’s not your concern, and I apologize for taking up your time. If you can point us to a door, we’ll be on our way.”
Anubis pointed over Claire’s shoulder.
Right. “A smaller door?”
“That’s the only door in the Hall of Osiris and only Osiris himself can open it. If you were dead, we’d take you before Osiris to be judged, but since you’re not dead…” His muzzle wrinkled as he tried to work it out.
Bast sighed. “Dead or alive, it doesn’t matter; in order to leave the Hall, they have to be taken before Osiris.”
“But we’re only supposed to escort the dead. We could kill them,” he added, looking hopeful. At least Claire thought it was hopeful; she wasn’t too good at reading jackal physiognomy.
“Or we could just escort them to Osiris and let him work it out.”
“I’d be honored to meet the Lord Osiris!” Lance declared, striding half a dozen quick steps forward and five back. “He’d appreciate my plan for dealing with Meryat! I could show him my thesis! No, wait.” He bounced up and down on the balls of his feet. “I don’t have my thesis with me!”
“Does he exclaim everything he says?” Bast asked Claire her ears slightly saddled.
“Pretty much.”
“We could just kill him if you like. No bother.”
Without Lance, the next door would take her back to the mall. The door after that, back to Dean. “Thank you for the offer.” And she meant that sincerely. “It’s tempting, but Lance knows how to deal with Meryat and besides—that whole Keeper thing—I’m not allowed to have even the most irritating Bystander put down.”
“Pity.”
“Sometimes.”
It was a long walk to the other end of the Hall. The tiles were cool underfoot and it would have been a pleasant journey but for the heavy scent of embalming spices in the air and the sound of distant lamentation that started up the moment they’d both left the squares of red tile. At that, the lamentations were preferable to Lance’s running commentary on the Egyptian afterlife.
When Bast’s ears flattened against her skull, Claire grabbed Lance by his much less indicative ear and yanked his head down beside hers. “I’ve come to realize that telling you to shut up doesn’t work, so instead I want you to remember everything you’ve ever heard about the dangers of pissing off gods.” Not to mention cats. “Remember that the gods are invariably described as cruel and capricious and remember that everything you’ve ever learned about them is true.”
“But a lot of the information contradicts…”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“But…”
“It’s all true.”
“Even…”
“All of it.”
He straightened rubbing his ear. “So you’re saying I should shut up?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.”
For a while, Lance and Anubis walked on ahead, circled around, walked with them for a few paces, walked on ahead, and Claire finally realized what Lance reminded her of. A half-grown, golden retriever puppy.
“His heart’s in the right place,” Bast murmured.
Claire waited.
The cat goddess didn’t disappoint.
“That’ll make it a lot easier to remove.”
About the time they began to see their destination at the far end of the Hall—although it was still little more than a big golden wall with some smaller unidentifiable things in front of it—Lance returned to walk by her side, allowing the two gods to lead them the rest of the way into Osiris’ presence.
“When we arrive,” Bast announced as it became obvious that one of the distant objects was a huge throne, “I’ll do the talking.”
Anubis turned his head far enough for Claire to see a flash of teeth. “Why?”
“Because you’ve been known to leave out important bits of information about the deceased, and it would be unfortunate if that happened this time.”
“Unfortunate?”
“Very.”
“Why? Dead’s dead.”
“These two are alive.”
“Oh, yeah…”
“They’re not how I imagined gods,” Lance said almost quietly.
Claire shrugged. She didn’t want to get into it.
“I mean, they look like gods,” Lance continued, clearly not picking up the subtext, “but they don’t sound like gods. First of all, they use contractions.”
That was unexpected enough to get Claire’s attention. “What?”
“Contractions. You know; don’t instead of do not. Or we’re instead of we are. Or…”
“I know what a contraction is.”
“They use them.”
�
�So?”
He exhaled explosively. “So who ever heard of a god using contractions? It just isn’t godlike.”
Claire’d heard of gods who took their own names in vain three words out of seven, but she decided not to mention that to Lance. “What’s second?” When he looked confused—well, more confused than usual—she expanded the question. “You said ‘first of all,’ so there must be at least a second.”
“Right!”
And the exclamations were back.
“It’s the two of them, the way they interact. They’re like Ruff and Ready!”
“Who?”
“You know; the cartoon!” Waving his hands from side to side, sketching out the beat, Lance sang, “They’re Ruff and Ready. Always Ruff and Ready. They sometimes have their little spats, even fight like d…”
Up onto her toes, she got her hand over his mouth just in time. Anubis was showing rather a lot of teeth, and Bast’s ears were flat against her skull while the triangle of fur that touched the top of her spine had lifted. Lesson…actually, Claire’d lost track at this point, but it had to be around lesson seven or eight in dealing with gods. Do not ever compare them to cartoon animals.
“Please…” No power, just a heartfelt plea. “…ignore him. He’s just a Bystander.”
“He is…”
“…annoying.” Anubis finished, the word emerging as one, long growl.
“I know. But we’ll be gone soon and—gross!” She snatched her hand away and wiped it on her skirt. “You licked me!”
Lance grinned down at her. “It worked.”
“How’d she taste?”
Bast and Claire turned as one toward the jackal-headed god.
“How did she taste?” Bast demanded.
Anubis shrugged. “I’m just curious.”
“Pretty good,” Lance allowed thoughtfully. “A little salty.”
His muzzle wrinkled as Anubis took a step toward her, and Claire was ninety percent sure she was about to be licked again. Oh that’s just great. I am so not a dog person.
Bast’s hand on his arm yanked him to a halt. “The Lord Osiris is waiting.”
Sure enough, there was now a figure sitting on the distant throne.
Sighing deeply, Anubis began walking again. “You never let me have any fun.”