Book of the Dead (Gods of Egypt 2) Read online

  She shakes her head. “Don’t you remember what your dad said about the Trials?”

  No living person has ever survived them, I remember.

  But I also recall what my mom told me on the porch while stargazing. Seth slayed sixty-four demons and returned home to his love. He did it. I can too. I have to believe that.

  Tiny needles prick my skin, sending shivers down my spine. “I’ll be okay.” And even if I’m not, you will. I’ll make sure of it.

  “I’ll do the Trials.”

  He squints. “I’m sensing a but.”

  A full-fleshed, evil-witch grin curves up my lips. “First, I need to be certain that Izzy gets to go home, no matter what happens to me.”

  He considers my offer. “You want me to send her back even if you fail?” He furrows his brows. “That’s impossible. The spell—”

  “You’re the Ruler of the Underworld. I’m sure you know how to bend the law.”

  “I—”

  I cross my arms. “Take it or leave it.”

  “Very well.” He rolls his eyes. “Your beloved Izzy will return to the land of the living if you give the Trials your all. You have my word.”

  “Your word?” I parrot, amused. “That means nothing to me.”

  Anger flashes in his eyes. “I have never lied to you.” He’s so close his scorching breath beats against my forehead. “It was you who plotted my murder, who betrayed me with my best friend.”

  Guilt jabs at my heart. It’s crazy, because I didn’t plot anything behind anyone’s back. At least not in this life. But maybe—never mind. The past is past and that’s that.

  “I need more than the word of a murderer,” I say.

  “Look at me.” He lifts my chin. “I promise to get her back safely if you do this for me.”

  “I….”

  He’s telling the truth. He will keep his word, whispers that stupid voice again.

  “You can trust me. You always could.”

  “Nisha,” Izzy starts. “Don’t—”

  “Okay,” I blurt out. “We have a deal.”

  “Are you insane? He’s going to—”

  Seth casts her a dark glance. “Quiet. She just saved your life, little queen. How about showing her some gratitude?” He whispers into the figure’s ear. “Neheh.” The hourglass and Izzy vanish into thin air.

  “What did you do?” I ask. “Where—”

  “I hid her.” Seth exhales sharply.

  “Where?”

  “Somewhere safe.”

  “Why?” It’s not like she can go anywhere.

  “Because”—his hot breath beats against my ear—“I made you a promise. She’s to remain hidden from all dangers this place has to offer, and when the time comes, she goes back to her lover boy.”

  He knows about Oz? What else does he know?

  I’d ask, but Seth has other plans. He pulls me toward the obelisk. “Come on. We’ve already lost enough time.”

  Chapter 3

  The obelisk—a red granite needle, seventy feet tall, rises to the ceiling. Its tip is covered with an electrum—an alloy of gold with silver. The surface is decorated with hieroglyphs and sparkling gemstones.

  I’ve seen it before. In one of my dad’s books? During a night terror? Anything is possible at this point.

  Seth, a meticulous observer, notices my thoughtful expression. “It’s quite something, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah.” Especially when you consider people in ancient Egypt—mostly slaves—built those things with their bare hands. They didn’t have the use of machines or technology. They only had their bodies and minds.

  Obelisks were important though. Rulers like Thutmose III and Ramses II erected them to facilitate the daily cycle in which Ra was thought to renew the world. They located them at sites where the sun could light them up every morning, acting as markers of time.

  “This one”—he tilts his head at the obelisk—“is called the Western Horizon. The place of sunset and death. Once you make it to the Field of Reeds—”

  “If I make it,” I grumble.

  “When you make it there, you’ll find the obelisk’s twin. The Eastern Horizon. The place of dawn and rebirth.” Seth’s shoulders straighten. “On it is an incantation you’ll have to read. It will give us both our lives back.”

  The whole immortality thing bugs me. I’ve devoured every book on Egyptian mythology ever written. They all agree on one thing: in the old world, even the gods eventually die.

  “Help me out.” I meet his garnet eyes. “How is it you talk about immortality when in ancient Egypt every creature was meant to move on to the afterlife?”

  One side of his mouth curves up. “There’s death and then there’s death.”

  I cross my arms. “Not helping.”

  He frowns. “Immortality is just a word humans use nowadays. Back then, back when you and I—the point is gods don’t die the way humans do. After they live thousands of years, they retire to the Field of Reeds. Their Ba, however, is indestructible.”

  “Ra got bit by a cobra and almost succumbed to its venom,” I counter, still not buying what he’s selling.

  Seth chuckles. “Your lack of knowledge is adorable.”

  I’ve been accused of a lot of things, but lack of knowledge is a new insult. And it stings. A lot. “Why don’t you enlighten me, then?”

  “I would, but”—he points to the electrum—“we’re on a clock.” Shadows sneak up on the alloy. Meaning dawn is already well on its way. “Where were we?” Seth rubs his stubble. “Ah, right. The Eastern Horizon. There’s a spell carved into it. You have to read it. Once you do, you will be reborn.”

  “Define reborn.” Am I going to die and return as a toddler? Will I wake up to Rob’s pancakes, no recollection of any of this? What does being reborn mean?

  Seth reaches for my face. I flinch at the prospect of his touch. He drops his hand. “You will once again be my Nebt-Het.”

  Images of that Brendan Fraser movie, The Mummy Returns, pop into my head. Yeah, it’s not exactly smart to make a comparison between a genre-classic movie and reality. I can’t help myself. That chick… What was her name? Anak-suna-something was the reincarnation of Imhotep’s lover, wasn’t she? She, too, performed some ritual, mumbled a spell, and demanded her soul back from the Underworld. I’m pretty sure it didn’t end well for her or her lover.

  Seth claps. “First things first, my love.”

  I narrow my eyes, warning him not to call me that either. What is it with boys—he’s hardly a boy—and their stupid nicknames, anyway? My name is Nisha. Two syllables. Easy, right? Well, easier than princess, my love, or whatever else they come up with.

  Seth continues, unimpressed. “The Underworld consists of twelve caverns.”

  “Caverns?” I do not like the sound of that. Dark and horrendous places sneak into my mind, the stuff horror flicks are made of.

  “They’re more like regions,” Seth assures me. “The River, The Woods, the Mountains, the”—he pauses for a moment, his shoulders drooping—“Desert.”

  For the record, I already hate the Desert. You would too if the Lord of the Underworld—God of the Desert, for crying out loud—shuddered when mentioning it.

  “The Lakes of Fire,” he continues, “the Outer Darkness, the Chamber of Fear, the Slaughtering Place, the Primeval Waters, the Chamber of Judgment, the Throne, and last but not least, the Field of Reeds. Each and every cavern is spiked with danger.” He squints, emphasizing his seriousness. “Demons, messengers of the gods, creatures you never believed could exist. And they all want the same thing.”

  “My soul?” I joke, trying to lighten things up.

  He’s in my face, breathing on me. “To see you fail.”

  The good news—for them, not me—is I most likely will. Fail, I mean. Let’s be real. I’m a reader, not a fighter. My last workout? That would have been in gym class, getting my butt kicked playing volleyball (or in my case, faceball). Stronger people than me have set out to do the Trials.
They all died. All but Seth. I scan his weaponized body. He’s all muscles and strength. I hardly compare to him.

  You took me down, princess. I hear Blaze’s voice in my mind. There aren’t many people who can take me down, remember that.

  It’s true. I took down a trained MMA fighter. A champion in his weight class. There’s just a tiny problem: I have no memory of the actual deed. All I remember is being trapped in a vision. So the question is, did I really take him down, or was that the other me, slumbering somewhere inside me? And if that’s the case, will she wake when I need her?

  “Hey.” Seth snaps his fingers, drawing my attention. “I saw you fight armies.”

  The way he looks at me, I can tell he has faith in my abilities. But here’s the thing: he didn’t see me fight armies. He saw her do it—the goddess he thinks I was. Still am, according to him and his crazy disciples.

  “Don’t ever sell yourself short.” A smile, a real one, touches his hard eyes. “You can do this. I’m betting our future on it.”

  We don’t have a future, no matter the outcome of the Trials.

  I’d tell him that, but he’s facing the obelisk. Hands resting on either side of the needle, he whispers foreign words I can’t quite make out.

  The gemstones embedded in the smooth surface glow like the Tesseract in the Avengers movie moments before Loki’s alien army invades New York. Colorful lights dance over the red granite, spreading across the Hall of the Dead and up to the golden ceiling. It’s so dang bright, I’m afraid I might go blind.

  I shield my eyes. The energy Seth freed, however, is stronger than anything I’ve ever felt. It ripples through my marrow, shakes my bones, and heats up my insides.

  “It’s over.” Seth pats my shoulder. “You may open your eyes.”

  I blink, giving my eyes time to adjust to the brightness.

  “Is that….” I move closer. “A hologram?” The stuff sci-fi movies are made of?

  Seth points to a life-like image of the Nile. The great pyramids of Giza are visible. “Like Google maps for the Underworld,” I hear myself say, impressed by the technology behind it.

  Heka, the voice in my mind corrects, not technology.

  Seth’s gaze darts along the Nile. “I don’t know anything about those Google maps, my love. But these are the twelve caverns of the Underworld.”

  I want to memorize them, carve the map into my brain.

  Seth, however, has other plans. He directs me to one particular image. It’s sharper than all the others. “See this?” I scan the tomb, located in a remote cliff, and nod. “This is where you will start your journey.”

  “In a tomb?” I grumble.

  “Not just any tomb.” He faces the image. “It’s Gua’s tomb, located in Deir el-Bersha, a small village on the east bank of the Nile. There, hidden in a cedarwood coffin, lies the map of the Duat, which you will need to get to the Field of Reeds.”

  “Back up.” I push my sweaty hands into the pocket of my jeans. “Deir el-Bersha is a real village, in the real world. Does that mean—”

  “No,” he says, aware where I’m going with this. “You won’t return to your world just yet.” He touches the obelisk again, and the images vanish. “You see, part of the Duat is a mirror image of Egypt at its most glorious time.”

  I’m thoroughly confused. “Care to elaborate?”

  Seth is running out of patience. “The first few caverns are a reflection of our past. You may meet ordinary people, going about their ordinary routines. But”—his eyes darken—“don’t let them fool you. They’re dead. And will do anything to stop you.”

  Great. “What you’re saying is I’m about to walk into a world full of ghosts to kill sixty-four demons?”

  He laughs.

  “Do I amuse you?”

  “The Trials aren’t only about killing demons.”

  “They’re not?”

  “No.” He moves away from the obelisk and toward a massive door. “It’s so much more than just that.”

  “Tell me,” I demand.

  “I can’t.” He rests a hand on one of the emeralds decorating the golden door. “What I can say is you have to be smarter, faster, and just a little stronger to get through it.”

  “Very helpful.”

  “Well.” Our eyes lock. “Here’s the good news.”

  After all the bad, I could use some of that. “What is it?” His face is a stone mask. “Tell me.” I’m tired of his games.

  “You won’t have to do this alone. The law of the Duat says you’re granted a guide of your choice. He or she will stay at your side until the very end and is permitted to help you”—his index finger shoots up—“once and once only.”

  This isn’t just good news; it’s Christmas meets Easter at Hanukah. “Any person?”

  He shoots me a dark glance. “Anyone from the land of the dead.”

  “Oh.”

  “You sound disappointed,” he hisses, brow furrowed.

  “No, I—”

  “Never mind.” He waves me off. “Pick your guide.”

  My options are many—I was nicknamed Angel of Death, after all—but it’s my parents I think of first. I spent countless nights, wishing to see them one last time, wanting a chance to tell them how much I love them, how much I miss them. A part of me dreads seeing them again. What if they blame me for what happened to them? What if I have to say goodbye again when all is said and done? Am I strong enough to lose them a second time? Could my heart survive that?

  “Who will be your guide?” Seth draws the words out.

  Mom and Dad taught me everything I know about Egypt.

  But there’s only one person who survived the Trials, and he’s standing across from you, that insidious voice yells. Follow the path of reason, for crying out loud.

  I shudder at the mere thought of doing this with—I ogle Seth—the man of my nightmares. It’s true though. With him by my side, I stand a chance. He lives and breathes the Underworld, knows every nook and cranny, and survived the Trials. Oh, and let’s not forget he needs me to succeed. His immortality depends on it.

  “We don’t have much time,” he pushes. “Make your—”

  “I already have.”

  He eagerly awaits my response. “Whom did you pick?”

  I straighten my shoulders and say the impossible out loud. “You.”

  Chapter 4

  “What did you just say?” Seth looks me up and down as if I’m some kind of extraterrestrial creature. Someone should tell him it’s the other way around.

  I suck in a sharp breath. It was hard enough to say it once. It’s killing me to repeat it. “You.” My spine is like iron. “I choose you as my guide.”

  A beat passes.

  “Me?” His voice, edgy yet soft, is colored with all sorts of emotions, surprise being the most prominent one. “Are you certain this is what you want?”

  No. “Yes.”

  He realizes I’m not a player. I never have been. “There’s something you need to know,” he says, breaking the awkward silence.

  “What’s that?”

  He paces the Hall of the Dead. Up and down, up and down. “I am the Ruler of the Underworld.” As if he needed to emphasize his evilness. “As such, I’m not allowed to enter the Hall of Judgment or any cavern thereafter. Which means I can only accompany you to the ninth cavern. After that you’re on your own.”

  A jolt of anger pricks at my gut. “I thought the King of Hell could do whatever he wants.”

  He casts me a nasty look. “This isn’t Hell. It’s the Underworld.”

  “There’s a difference?”

  “Yes.” He exhales sharply. “The point I’m trying to make is you’d be better off with someone else.”

  I drop a hand on one hip. “Or maybe you can act like the king you are and break those stupid laws.”

  The mighty conqueror gapes at me in shock. “You want me to enter the Hall of Judgment?”

  “Why not?” I shrug. “I thought you were the big guy here.”<
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  A twisted laugh echoes off the walls. “Have you ever heard of Ammut?”

  As a matter of fact, I have. “He’s the Eater of the Dead, isn’t he?”

  “He is,” Seth replies. “I assume you’re familiar with his task?”

  “Yeah.” Mom had shown me a drawing of the judgment scene in The Book of the Dead. Ammut—head of a crocodile, body of a leopard, and backside of a hippopotamus—sat by the scale of judgment, waiting to consume the hearts of those who did evil in their lifetimes.

  “Then you should understand why I can never face him.” Translation: Seth didn’t get his title—Ruler of the Underworld—for no reason. He’s a ruthless murderer, hungry for power. Ammut would swallow him whole.

  He approaches me like a lion nears its prey. “Do you still want me as your guide?”

  I should probably think this over, but I have the feeling half of Seth is still better than any other guide. Besides, if Mom was right, he couldn’t help me in the Chamber of Judgment anyway. My heart will be weighed against the feather of Ma’at, the goddess of truth and justice. At least that’s what the books say. How exactly a heart can be weighed, I’m not sure, but should my conscience be clean, I’ll move on. Should my heart be heavier, well, let’s just say Ammut will have a feast. “Yes,” I answer without hesitation. “I still want you.”

  For a heartbeat his eyes gleam, and his chest swells with pride. But the master of suppressing emotions manages to wipe his expression clean in the blink of an eye. “So be it.” He bows to me. “I shall be your guide, Princess Nebt-Het.”

  I’d scold him for calling me that, but he’s already hauling me to a massive gold gate across the hall. “Ready?”

  For demons, and god knows what else? “Not really.”

  He briefly looks me in the eye. “You’ll be fine. Rest your hand on the door, like this.” He presses his palm flat against the solid metal. “Good. Repeat after me: I, the rightful Princess of all of Egypt….”

  I take a deep breath. “I, the rightful Princess of all of Egypt….”