Omens Bite, page 16
“Simple? That’s hard for me to believe. I mean, this place is gorgeous!” She tore her gaze from the room to find Khenti smiling at her. “Is it okay if I walk around?”
“Of course! I will note the time and be sure you do not stay overlong.”
Khenti gestured to what Mercy had on first glance taken to be another piece of art in a room filled with exquisite treasures. She walked to it and realized it was a sundial made of gold that sat on top of an intricately carved pillar of luminous blue marble. Mercy reached out hesitantly to touch it, and a little yelp of shock escaped her lips as she saw that her hand and her arm had turned a pale gray color. “Bloody hell! Are you sure it’s okay for me to be here? I mean, I’m definitely not usually gray.”
“You need not worry. It’s normal for the color of your skin to change. It will not cause your body harm unless you stay beyond the allotted time.”
“Promise?” Mercy met his gaze.
“I give you my sacred oath, Green Witch Mercy Goode. You may trust me.”
“Okay, I will.” Mercy breathed a sigh of relief and purposefully turned her gaze up—well away from her weird-colored skin. Above the sundial, through a round opening in the distant domed ceiling, light streamed down. Mercy squinted and blinked and tried to catch a glimpse of the sky above them. “Is it daytime here?”
“It is always both day and night in the Land of the Dead.”
“Sounds confusing,” Mercy said as she wandered to the closest wall, which was covered with a spectacular mural of bejeweled goddesses and mighty gods accepting offerings from a long line of incredibly beautiful people.
“Only when I am trying to sleep,” said Khenti.
Mercy’s gaze went to him and she realized his grin said that he was joking with her. “Well, next time I visit I’ll bring you what we call a sleep mask. That should fix you right up.”
“A sleep mask changes day to night?” He joined her by the wall mural.
“Yep. It’s mortal magic. You’ll love it.” On the gleaming limestone floor below the mural sat jar after jar—one more exquisite than the last—all painted with bright colors and trimmed in gold. “What are these?”
Khenti followed her as she moved from jar to jar. “These are canopic jars.”
Mercy’s brow furrowed as she tried to place the word. “Canopic? Does that have something to do with funerals?”
“Yes. They are part of the mummification process. Within the jars rest the viscera of the dead. They are entombed with the body. The preservation of the organs helps to ensure a flourishing afterlife.”
Mercy was astounded by the artwork. The jars were huge—many reached from the floor to the middle of her chest. Lifelike carvings of the heads of animals capped each of them. Some jars had scenes depicting more gods and goddesses wrapped around them. Some depicted painted animals—beautiful and fierce—and a whole section of them were decorated with the same golden symbol over and over. “I know that one! It’s an ankh.” Mercy’s finger delicately traced the symbol that looked a little like a cross, but was looped on top.
“That’s correct. It is our symbol for life, especially sacred to the goddess Hathor. These jars are the divine originals, which are copied by mortals. In much smaller, more subdued versions, of course.” Khenti reverently touched the nearest jar. “All of the jars in this chamber were created by the goddess Qebhet, who brings water to soothe the souls of the dead as they await judgment. No mortal artist could ever be her equal.”
“Right?! I’ve never seen anything so lovely.” Mercy’s gaze moved from the jars to the life-sized statue of a goddess carved from stunning lapis lazuli. On her head was a crown that looked like an exquisite column—one that could hold up the world. A black bird shaped like a hawk, but made of a glossy ebony stone, perched on her shoulder. “Who is she?”
“That is Nephthys. She is one of the goddesses who protect the souls of the dead.”
Mercy studied the goddess. “Why does she have a column on her head?”
Khenti smiled. “That is the hieroglyph for house.”
Her brow furrowed as she looked from the statue to Khenti.
He laughed softly. “Don’t think of it as a literal house. It’s symbolic of Nephthys’ protective nature—just as a house protects its occupants.”
“Oh, I get it. That bird—it looks like a hawk, but hawks in our world aren’t black.”
“Egyptian hawks are not black, either,” Khenti explained. “Unless they’re one of Nephthys’ hawks. Then they’re black to show that they belong to a goddess who watches over souls on their way to the Land of the Dead.”
“She does look fierce. I believe she’s a good protector,” said Mercy.
“She is,” Khenti assured her. “Though Nephthys is also filled with compassion—especially for the newly dead.”
A sudden thought struck Mercy. Excited, she turned to Khenti. “Nephthys’ hawk reminds me—lately I’ve noticed black birds, ravens mostly, which is weird because ravens aren’t really a thing in Illinois. It’s like they’re following me. I thought they were positive omens, sent by Odin All-Father. He is the father god of my goddess, Freya’s, pantheon, and closely tied to ravens. But then one died at my feet, which really doesn’t scream good omen. What if the black birds are being sent as omens of death?”
Khenti drew a long breath and let it out slowly as he considered. “Black birds, especially carrion eaters, do tend to symbolize death, but perhaps your black birds are simply omens sent by your goddess to lead you here, to the Land of the Dead. Maybe here you will find something to help you solve the mystery of why the gates have sickened.”
“That’s a good point.” Mercy glanced around and then lowered her voice. “Don’t tell anyone, but I think omens are super confusing and annoying.”
Khenti lowered his voice conspiratorially. “Probably because the gods and goddesses can be confusing and even annoying.”
Mercy snorted a laugh. “You get to talk to goddesses a lot?”
Khenti shrugged. “And gods as well.”
“You have a really cool job,” she said.
He grinned. “Job? Is that what you call being a Green Witch?”
“Nah, that’s more of a calling—or maybe destiny.”
“Exactly.” He caught her gaze and held it. “Destiny. I am glad we are both believers in destiny.”
“I don’t think it’s possible to be much of a witch without that belief.”
“Nor much of a demi-god Guardian of the Underworld,” said Khenti.
They exchanged a smile that had Mercy’s stomach flip-flopping. To cover the sudden blush that heated her cheeks she continued to walk around the magnificent room. She stopped before another statue—a woman with the head of a cow. The bovine head should’ve made the figure look bizarre and awkward, but the opposite was true. The cow’s eyes were arresting with their intelligence and the goddess, because she had to be divine, had an elegant grace that was extremely attractive.
“That is Hathor. She is Goddess of Joy, Love, and Women. She guides the souls of the dead here, to this temple.”
“What is that?” She pointed to a thick golden necklace the goddess wore.
“That is the sun held within Hathor’s horns. All of Egypt recognizes her sacred symbol.”
“She’s so beautiful!” Mercy reached a hand out to touch the jewel-laden statue, but drew it back, afraid to cause offense.
“She is,” said Khenti. “You may touch her image if you wish. Women often touch statues of Hathor when they leave her offerings.”
“But she isn’t my goddess.” Mercy stared up into the wise eyes of the statue.
“That matters not at all. You are a woman. Hathor’s benevolence extends to you.”
Slowly, Mercy lifted her gray-tinged hand to touch the incredible jeweled collar that decorated the statue and gasped. “She’s warm!”
Mercy didn’t have to look at Khenti to know he was smiling. “That is a sign of her pleasure. She greets you.”
“Wow, I’m honored.” Mercy paused and then shifted her purse and opened it. “Wait, I have something for her. Here it is!” Her fist closed on the little crystal tube that was firmly corked and rested in the side pocket of her almost bottomless bag. She pulled it out and held it up so that the flickering light from the flaming wall sconces made the liquid within glitter.
“What is it?” Khenti asked.
As she bent to place the vial at Hathor’s sandaled feet, Mercy said, “It’s the perfume I make for myself. I mix oil and the essence of lilac blooms with a little pure vanilla—and, of course, I add some bippity boppity boo to it.” She straightened and bowed to the statue. “I hope Hathor likes lilacs.”
Around the statue the air shimmered and suddenly a shaft of brilliant yellow light illuminated Mercy.
Lovely … the whispered word made the beam of light glow even brighter before it disappeared.
Mercy turned quickly to Khenti, who was still smiling at her. “Did you see that? Hear that?”
“I did! Hathor accepts your offering.”
“That’s so cool!” Mercy grinned up at Khenti and the two of them stood there, just smiling at one another.
Khenti broke the silence first. “Might I smell the perfume you gave to Hathor?”
“Sure. I mean, if she doesn’t mind I don’t mind.” But before Mercy could retrieve the little vial, Khenti stepped close to her, bent, pressed his face near her neck, and breathed in deeply. His breath sent ripples of electricity from her neck throughout her body.
He straightened slowly. His gaze caught hers. “It is as Hathor said—lovely.”
“Thanks,” Mercy whispered.
“I am very glad you called on me tonight.”
She couldn’t look away from the heat in his dark eyes. “Me, too.”
“Is your sadness better?”
She tossed her hair back, not caring one damn bit that Em would say she was being super flirty. “Absolutely. How ’bout you?”
“Absolutely.”
Mercy felt as if she could fall into his dark eyes.
“Tell your familiar that she may send you to call on me anytime,” he said.
“Xena! Bloody hell! What time is it?” Mercy quickly pulled the phone from her purse. She definitely had no service, but it told her the time was eight-forty. “Oh, crap! I have to go.”
Khenti’s brow furrowed and he looked back at the sundial. “You still have time. You need not leave yet.”
“It’s not that. I promised I’d pick up dinner for Xena and me, and the sandwich place is going to close soon.” Side by side, she and Khenti walked slowly toward the glowing barrier. “Sorry I have to rush off like this. I’ve loved being here.”
“Then allow me to gift you with something to remind you of Osiris’s realm.” Khenti strode to the line of canopic jars that were decorated with golden ankhs. He stood before one of them, bowed his head, and as he spoke words Mercy could not understand, his fingers swept down the jar and over the ankh. When he lifted his hands and turned to face her Khenti was holding a necklace made of tiny jet beads from the center of which dangled a small golden ankh. “This is for you.”
“Oh, Khenti! It’s beautiful!”
“May I put it on you?” he asked.
“Yes!” Before she could turn and move her hair out of the way Khenti stepped forward and placed the necklace over her head. Gently, he lifted her hair so that the ankh settled intimately between her breasts. Mercy touched the golden symbol. “It’s warm.”
Khenti nodded. “It will always be warm. It carries a very small piece of the Land of the Dead within it. Now, let us return you to your world.” He took her ash-colored arm and guided Mercy back to the glowing gate.
Mercy paused there and made a gesture that took in the treasure-filled chamber. “I’ll never forget this.”
“Then return. Soon.” Khenti took her hand in his.
“I’d like that.”
Khenti held her gaze as he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it. “As would I.”
At the touch of his lips against her skin electric sensations zapped through her body again, and Mercy had to force herself not to fidget. Khenti squeezed her hand and then released it. Mercy felt the absence of his touch like a cold shower.
“How, um…” She had to pause to get her thoughts in order. “How do I get back?”
“As easily as you arrived. Simply step through the barrier.”
She looked down at herself. Her arms were completely gray—as was her skin beneath the warm golden ankh, but the little sliver of belly showing between her crop top and jeans looked almost normal. “Do I need to do anything to make my skin go back to its regular color?”
“Just cross over to your world. It will immediately flush back to cream.”
Their eyes met. Mercy had to swallow several times before she found her voice. “Okay, well, bye. I’ll see you again soon. And thank you for my gift.” She touched the ankh lightly.
“You are most welcome. Farewell, Green Witch Mercy.”
“See ya later, Khenti, Guardian of Osiris’s realm.” She dropped into what she hoped was a cute curtsy, and then drew a big breath, held it, and stepped through the barrier.
Seventeen
Crickets chirped and a soft breeze blew through Hunter’s bedroom window. She pushed her sheets aside and opened her eyes to darkness. She sat up at the airy whoosh of the front door and the sudden blaze of the living room light. She draped her legs over the side of her bed and squinted through her open bedroom door and into the glow.
Kylie’s pigtail braids swayed back and forth as she walked toward Hunter’s room. “You’re awake!” she chimed and turned on Hunter’s bedroom light.
Jax jogged into the room, his flip-flops making quick slap slaps against his feet.
Hunter wrapped the comforter around herself and blinked. “How long was I out?”
Jax shuffled past Kylie and plopped onto the bed beside Hunter. “A few hours. Makes sense with the trauma you went through.”
Hunter shivered and tightened the comforter around her. “Trauma?” This was it. Her reckoning. The one Kirk wasn’t able to provide. Her friends now knew her true power and their fear would lash out and strike her down before she even had the chance to explain.
“Kyles told me everything.” He leaned forward and grabbed the cheerleader’s hand and pulled her onto his lap. “She also had to keep me from busting into the hospital and obliterating Kirk. Fuckin’ bag of shit.”
Kylie draped her arms around his broad shoulders and brought her face inches from his. “Violence is not the answer.”
The words needled between Hunter’s ears and sent acid washing up her throat. Violence had never been the answer before—all the Goode witches lived and swore by “An it harm none do as ye will”—but today it was. And today, it had felt right.
Jax shrugged. “He would’ve been in the ER anyway. They could’ve stopped the bleeding, no problem.”
Kylie rested her hand on Hunter’s shoulder. “I’m so relieved you got out of the way and Kirk hit that mirror. If he would’ve hit you, instead…” Brow furrowed, she squeezed Hunter’s shoulder.
Jax clenched his hands into fists. “Let’s just say, he got what was coming to him. Coach knows now, too. Even if Kirk heals up quick, he won’t play for Goodeville.”
“But enough of the negative.” Kylie clapped and leapt to her feet with ease. “The new Lupita Nyong’o movie is out. We should go!”
Hunter remained silent, scared that if she spoke, this illusion would vanish and be replaced with the truth—that she had injured Kirk, broken every finger in his hand with magic she’d borrowed from her goddess. That she’d broken her oath to do no harm. And, although guilt pecked at her heart, she couldn’t say she wouldn’t do it again.
Jax cupped his hand around his ear. “I hear Sour Patch Kids and Sour Skittles calling your name.” He dropped his hand and nudged Hunter with his elbow. “They’ll destroy your mouth, but it’s worth it.”
She couldn’t pretend things were normal. The comforter slid off Hunter’s shoulder and she shimmied back inside the warmth of her protective cocoon. “I think I’ll stay here.”
Her intention was never to lie about what happened with Kirk. To be honest, she hadn’t thought about what she would say, but Hunter was now in too deep. For hours, Kylie had been running with this story, this version of the truth. Who was Hunter to say that that couldn’t have happened? Kirk was violent. If Amphitrite hadn’t been there to help …
Another shudder and Hunter stretched the blanket taut around her. “Alone time sounds good.”
Jax wrapped his arm around her shoulder and squeezed her against him. “Text me if you need me,” he whispered and rubbed his knuckles against her head.
Hunter pushed him away and sat silently as he and Kylie walked, hand in hand, from the room.
“I’ll bring you back some candy, H!” Kylie called from the entryway before the gentle whoosh of the door signaled their departure.
Hunter pulled the blanket over her head and groaned. “My life would be so much easier if you hadn’t let me do that.”
Invisible waves lapped against Hunter’s bare feet. He attacked you, and by extension, me. You did the right thing, Witch. Rest assured, I would never steer you wrong.
“You don’t think it got, like, a tiny bit out of control?” Hunter shrugged out of the comforter and padded to her dresser.
The mortal got exactly what he deserved.
Hunter opened the top drawer and pawed through her underwear. The white-and-red ombre spellbook wriggled with excitement and purred against her fingers as she lifted it from the dresser drawer.
He should know not to mess with a pure-blooded witch.
Hunter chewed her bottom lip. That was the second time she’d been told that Kirk had gotten what he’d deserved. Even though Jax didn’t know the real story, he knew the real Kirk.
She set the spellbook on top of her dresser and patted its furry cover before she crouched down to open the bottom drawer. She pulled out a pair of black leggings and a faded black DARE T-shirt and tossed them onto her bed.
“Even if it was justified, it still wasn’t completely right. And ye harm none, do what ye will.” She repeated the phrase her mother had preached to her for as long Hunter could remember.
