“What? Don’t be silly,” she says in a haughty tone. “How else am I to know it’s secure?”
“Passengers aren’t allowed to bring weapons on the plane, ma’am,” he replies.
“Well, that’s fine, then,” she says with a sharp nod. “I have no intention of using it as such at this time.”
The TSA agent sighs, obviously used to dealing with obstinate passengers. I’m seething. I think I remember her getting a package from overseas a week ago—this has to be what was in it. Really, Sekhmet? REALLY?
“Ma’am, it’s still a knife,” the agent says. “Now you can either take the item back and check it in your luggage, give it to a friend to take home, leave it in your car, or mail it.”
“I will do no such thing,” she says, rearing back. “Do you have the barest notion of how long I have searched for this? It is one of the few relics to survive the fall of my faith and I will never—”
“Hi,” I say, butting in to stand beside her. I glance down at his name tag. “Gary, is it? This is a friend of mine. She’s new to this whole ‘air travel’ thing, and I’m very sorry about all this.”
“That’s fine, ma’am, but we still can’t let her board with the knife.”
“Impertinent mongrel—!” Sekhmet begins, but I elbow her in the side to cut her off and lean in, focusing my will upon the man.
I didn’t want to have to do this. I don’t know who’s paying attention or if this might alert some Finemdi sleeper agent, but I do know there are cameras watching … and that I don’t have much of a choice.
I’m a goddess of love, first and foremost, and even at my weakest, the one thing I’ll always be able to do is tweak how others feel about me. Now, after my successes at Disney, it’s child’s play to flood the man’s brain with adoration. In just a second, his look of glazed irritation vanishes, his cheeks flush, and I can feel a heady soup of affection bubble in his brain.
“So you two are friends?” Gary asks in a completely different tone.
“Yes,” I say, scooting around Sekhmet to stand directly in front of him. “Would it be too much trouble to bend the rules for us? Just this once? It’s such a teensy little thing, isn’t it?”
“Huh?” he murmurs. Then he notices the knife in his hand. “Oh, this? Ha, it’s like, from a gift shop or something, right? Sure, this couldn’t hurt anyone.”
I hold up a hand for it and he lowers the weapon onto my waiting palm. As soon as he lets go, I jam it back into Sekhmet’s bag and zip the thing closed.
“Was there anything else I could help you with?” Gary asks.
“Nope!” I chirp, giving Sekhmet a meaningful look as I hold out the suitcase for her. “You’ve been a huge help. Such a sweetheart.”
“Aww.” Gary scratches the back of his head, looking embarrassed. “It’s nothing.”
“So we’re good to go? We do have a flight to catch.…”
“Oh, right, yeah, of course. Better get moving. Sorry about all this.” He leans in, lowering his voice and jerking his head at the agents monitoring the baggage scanners. “They can get real uptight. Don’t mind ’em.”
“Already forgotten,” I say, flashing him a smile.
“Say, you, ah, wanna get drinks sometime?” he asks as we gather our things and begin moving away.
“Sure thing, Gary!” I reply with a wave. “Next time!”
He grins and returns the gesture. I give Sekhmet—who still looks highly annoyed—a friendly shove, and then we’re off, heading for the elevated shuttle that will take us to our terminal. She manages to restrain herself until we’re standing by the sliding doors that will open when our tram arrives. She turns to me with a glare and says, “That was beneath us.”
“Beneath—Sekhmet, you tried to bring a giant freaking knife on the plane!”
“And what of it? If I wished to cause harm, I would certainly not use such a precious bauble.”
I roll my eyes. “Well, they don’t know you can sprout razor-sharp claws, now do they?”
“Even so, how dare they suspect me of lawless behavior—I am beyond reproach, my fury saved only for the deserving.”
“We are not in ancient Egypt anymore, Sekhmet!” I snap, feeling myself getting angrier by the second.
“Oh, look, here’s the tram,” Nathan says, trying to ignore us.
“We talked about this,” I say as we begin moving onto the shuttle. “We need. To lie. Low.” I plop onto the little shelf at the front of the car, keeping my bag between my knees. Sekhmet moves to stand beside me, frowning.
“Yes,” she says after a moment, some of the rage behind her eyes subsiding. “Yes, we—we have greater threats whose punishment I will not jeopardize.” She sighs and shakes her head. “I apologize. I do not wish to be a burden. Even after all these years, it is difficult to accept how much our world has changed.”
I nod, looking out the window at the approaching terminal. There’s not much else to say to that, so I decide to bring the conversation back to the little oddity in her suitcase. Somehow, I doubt she’ll mind changing the topic. “So what’s the deal with the knife, anyway?” I ask her.
“The—? Ah, yes,” she says, actually looking a little sheepish. “An old artifact of mine. A gift, actually, from Ninurta.” She gives me an appraising look. “Do you know of him?”
I frown. “Vaguely. Assyrian?”
“Close. Sumerian. God of war and agriculture. He bequeathed it to me after I, ah, bested him.”
I glance at Sekhmet as our shuttle glides to a stop and the doors open. She seems a little too self-satisfied for that “bequeathing” to have come from anything other than Ninurta’s bloody remains. Such a delightful woman. “How’d you get it back?” I ask. “I assume Finemdi didn’t let you keep it.”
She shakes her head as we head out into the terminal and begin looking for our gate. “No, I lost it long before my capture.”
“Then where’d you find it?”
She sighs. “eBay.”
Nathan snorts, barely managing to turn an obvious laugh into a coughing fit. Sekhmet glares at him. “It was very difficult!” she snaps. “Some wretched individual tried to steal it from me at the last moment; the price raised in a matter of seconds!”
My priest looks like he might be in danger of pulling a muscle trying to keep quiet. Finally, he manages to choke down his mirth and says in a strained voice, “I’m sorry. It’s just that the idea of a god having to deal with auction sniping is, well, absurd.” He pauses a moment, then adds, “Wonderfully absurd.”
Sekhmet huffs and turns her attention back to navigating the crowds of travelers. As we’re padding down a long carpeted hallway, our rolling suitcases making a satisfying hum, I lean in and whisper to her, “Plan on telling me what the knife actually does? I know you’re not that sentimental. You wouldn’t seek it out if you didn’t think it would be useful.”
She turns to peer at me with a curious expression. “You touched it, did you not?”
“Yeah, for all of five seconds,” I say.
Sekhmet’s features contort into a ghastly smile. Despite the illusion of a Nile queen, I get the sense I’m facing a mouthful of long, curving teeth. “There is an intelligence within it, a ghost of prophecy and power. The weapon is meant for the hands of a warrior who will wage this world’s last battle. I couldn’t care less about the magic it provides—I only wish to ensure I play a role in such a conflict.”
“Oh,” I say. I suppose I should have guessed. As a goddess of warfare, destruction, and judgment, she must have found the words final war utterly irresistible. I keep forgetting I’m dealing with an intractable relic here. I really need to do something about this.
“Listen, Sekhmet, I have a favor to ask of you,” I say as we near our gate.
“Name it, little fighter,” she replies in an instant.
“When we get to LA, I want you to relax.”
“Relax? I’m not sure I—”
“Let your guard down. Get a pedicure. Go to the be
ach. See a movie. Be a civilian.” Part of that shouldn’t be too hard; I know she’s utterly addicted to action movies. You should see the way her eyes light up when they’re on. I swear she’s watched some of her favorites a hundred times.
Even still, she responds with a frown that remaps her forehead in wrinkles. “You’re joking, of course.”
“I am not,” I say with a shake of my head. “I know you—you’re going to want to sink your fangs into a villain the second we land. This isn’t that kind of adventure. We need to deal with producers and socialites, not barbarian hordes. I’m going to need your help, and if you want to be able to provide it, you’re going to need to dial back the bloodlust.”
“If it helps, I can show you around the city,” Nathan says, sounding oddly hopeful. “All the hot spots. It’ll be fun.”
“But—but Ares…” she sputters, ignoring him.
“Will be dealt with. We’re going to LA to stock up on belief, remember?”
She wavers a moment, then persists. You don’t know stubborn until you’ve talked to a god. “Yes, but I can still—”
“You can’t, Sekhmet.” I think my tone is getting really close to pleading at this point. “No fighting. No threatening. I need you to be a tourist.”
She thinks it over a moment. “I can’t even—?”
“Need, Sekhmet.”
She blows out her breath in a sigh, then looks away. As she does, we reach our gate at last. Our flight’s not ready to board yet, so we find a few seats together and settle in to wait for its arrival. Sekhmet sits down and immediately begins drumming her elegant fingers on her bag. I can see the gears turning.
“Centuries ago, I swore to help you achieve vengeance,” she says at last. “That promise is now one of my oldest unfulfilled oaths, so if indulging in such … frivolity is how it must be resolved, then I will learn.” She looks me in the eyes as she finishes speaking, and I see the stoic resolve there, like she’s agreed to march through the gates of hell for me. Geez, Sekhmet, it’s just a pedicure.
“Thank you, my friend,” I say, holding her gaze. Despite how silly it all feels, I’m sincerely grateful—I know how hard it is for a god to change his or her ways, even if it’s only for a little while.
She nods at that, then sits back in her chair to watch the airplanes outside taxi beneath the hot sun. A few minutes pass in silence until a flight attendant’s voice echoes overhead, crackling out of a loudspeaker to let us know they’re about to begin boarding. It’s only a few moments more before we’re walking down the ramp toward our plane; we’re flying first-class, after all. I made sure to buy the tickets in person, and—surprise, surprise—the agent liked me enough to give us all an upgrade.
We stow our carry-ons in the overhead bins and settle into our large, luxurious seats. Nathan and I are sitting together, and Sekhmet’s just across the aisle. I flip the window shade up and look over the tarmac, letting the Florida sun play on my face one last time. A sense of nostalgia fills me as I realize I’m leaving here for the first time in decades. My true home will always be in the far north, in the verdant bloom of spring and breathtaking cold of winter, but this place is not without its charms.
“Ooh, the screens flip out of the armrests!” Nathan says, showing his focus is on more immediate luxuries. “And can you believe this leg room?”
“Trivialities,” Sekhmet mutters, yet I can’t help but notice the little smile that curves her lips as she settles into her own chair. She may not need the amenities of first class, but she’s still a god at heart, and we have a thing for special treatment.
“First time riding up front?” I ask Nathan.
He nods. “Never took many flights to begin with. We were all about the road trips.”
“Oh? How were those?”
“When my dad was alive? Great.” He pauses. “There … weren’t many after.”
“The soldier?” Sekhmet asks, perking up from across the aisle.
“My dad? Um, yeah…?” Nathan says, seeming a little taken aback by her attention.
“You do not speak of him often.”
“Kinda try not to,” he says, shrugging. “I mean, I can’t tell you how much I miss him, but I don’t want to be that guy who’s always moping after his dead dad, y’know?”
She watches him a moment, then nods. “I often forget you are of warrior blood,” she says, giving him an approving smile. “The occasional reminder is not … undesirable.”
Nathan’s face goes through an interesting mix of confusion and appreciation at that, while Sekhmet simply leans back into her chair, still smiling. For my part, I focus on the food and drinks menu we get as first-class passengers, mentally ticking off the things I want to try.
The rest of the passengers finish loading, each seeming to fix us with a jealous stare as they pass on their way to coach. Then there are a few clicks and bumps and the plane taxis away from the terminal, heading for the runway. Nathan taps my arm after a few minutes. “So besides not drawing attention to ourselves, how else how can we help you when we get there?” he asks.
I lean around him to look at Sekhmet. She’s still pressed back in her chair, eyes shut: the picture of tranquility. You might think an ancient creature of the desert would hate flying, but gods don’t scare easily—it’s hard to worry about a crash when you know you’ll just regenerate. The whine of the engines increases to a dull roar as the plane readies itself for takeoff, and I turn back to Nathan. “Uh, well, I’ll definitely need someone to help me coordinate everything, which I bet you can do. As for Sekhmet—”
“She’ll still be with us, right?” he says as the plane shoots forward, on its way to the skies. He seems surprisingly concerned about her. “Maybe a bodyguard?” he adds.
“She’d be great at that,” I say over the sound of the aircraft rumbling. “Actually, it might not be a bad idea to call that her cover. When she’s not ‘enduring’ her vacation, though, what I’ll really need her to do is sift truth from lies. I’ve read enough about the entertainment industry to expect plenty of the latter in the days to come.” The rumbles fade, and there’s a gentle lurch as the plane takes off.
Nathan nods, looking relieved. Then a slight frown makes an appearance. “Wait, just ‘coordination’? Like, schedules? That’s it?”
“Um, that’s not … enough?” I say, feeling slow.
“You haven’t thought about what I’ll be doing at all, have you?” he says, toeing the line between amusement and frustration.
“It’s cute, right?” I say, then slip into a Valley girl parody. “Forgetful girls are, like, so totally cute.”
“Totes adorbs,” he drawls, trying to mimic the accent. Then he sighs. “I really do want to help, Sara,” he adds in a normal register. “Palling around with gods is basically the best thing ever, but even so, it’s hard not feeling a little … unnecessary.”
I wince at that, and rub his arm. “Nathan, you—all of you—are everything. We. Serve. You. Some of us might do that in some really jerky ways, but we’re all made by mortals, for mortals. I am nothing without you. Never forget that.”
That fun, easygoing smile of his makes a reappearance. “Okay, that is nice to hear, but c’mon—I want to do more than stand around and look pretty.”
“And here I thought you’d found your calling,” I say, giving him a shoulder bump. “Okay, you’re right. High priests should always be more than window dressing. And I know exactly what’s going to set you apart. Remember those spells I’ve been teaching you?”
He snorts. “You can only burn your eyebrows off so many times before that kind of thing sinks in.”
“Well, it’s time to crank it into overdrive. You’re my chosen representative here in the world. When you cast those little flame spheres and cantrips, you’re tapping into whatever empowers me, right?”
“Pixie dust, rainbows, and M•A•C lipstick, right.”
I poke him. “Well, train enough at it, and you’ll be able to do a lot more. I’m a goddess of magic
, and that means my followers are supposed to be able to conjure some pretty impressive stuff. Every spell still goes through me, but until I get a line on some solid belief, your potential is actually higher than mine right now.”
“What, seriously?”
I nod. “The power of my clerics was never precisely tied to my own—just validated by it. Belief made me, and it can supercharge you. Starting to get the picture?”
“Yeah,” he breathes, then laughs. “And starting to wonder what the holdup on the phenomenal cosmic power was.”
I give him a bashful smile. “Eh, things got busy. Then aimless. Then busy again.” I shrug. “Gods are not the best friends, in case you were wondering. But I’m committed to this: We’re going to use every shred of downtime we have to make you a high priest worthy of the name.”
“Now that is a plan,” he says, nodding eagerly. “Only problem I can see with it is how hard it’s going to make falling asleep on this flight—I was keyed-up about this adventure before, but now…?”
“Perils of priesthood,” I say with a grin.
He laughs at that, and we fall into easy chatter as the ground sneaks away beneath us, an intricate model reaching for the horizon. Not even five minutes pass before I have to stifle a bit of laughter as our conversation trails off and his eyelids begin inching down. Thrilled he may be, but an all-night god party is not something one recovers from in a single day. He’ll probably be out for most of the flight.
I unfold my complimentary blanket and tuck it over him, then turn away from my friend and stare out the window, gleefully watching the clouds beyond and the land beneath. It’s glorious, a miracle of technology made possible in the last century alone. To someone who’s lived over a thousand years, this kind of change is simply astonishing—and just a bit saddening. People seem all too ready to take such wonders for granted, after all. I glance around the first-class cabin, looking at the other travelers absorbed in their newspapers and notebooks, ignoring the fact that what they’re doing right this moment would have been impossible at nearly any other point in human history.
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