Omens Bite, page 25
Thirty
The last school period felt like years. Hunter’s legs bounced under her desk and she chewed on what was left of her nails as she stared at the clock and ignored the lively debate around her on the responsibilities of literature in the twenty-first century. Hunter had enough responsibilities for this century and the next combined. Thankfully, she’d cross a big one off her list as soon as she made it to her house and collected the tarot cards she never should have left behind.
Finally, the clock flashed 3:15. Hunter was out of her seat before the bell rang. Her classmates gave her a wide berth as she leapt from her desk and raced to the door, her footsteps punctuated by the shrill ding ding ding ding of the final school bell. She jogged toward her locker as she sent a quick message to Jax and Kylie.
Have to stop by the house. See you after practice.
Luckily, she didn’t need to wait for a ride to her house. The sparks of adrenaline that zapped every inch of her legs could carry her for miles. Plus, the Goode’s ancestral home wasn’t a long walk from the school.
She turned down the hall to her locker and exhaled the anxiety that had hardened her lungs. Kirk and his gang were nowhere to be found. Even if they didn’t believe Kirk’s account of what had happened, maybe they’d all learned to leave her alone.
Hunter brushed past her locker neighbors and spun the dial on the narrow metal box. She’d had the same locker combination, the date she and Mercy were born, and the same locker since eighth grade when she’d finally been assigned a locker on the top row instead of the bottom. Hunter dug through the purse for the papers and pens she could dump back into her locker as the metal door groaned open. She froze, a handful of highlighters poised for deposit. The highlighters clattered against the floor as she sucked in a breath and slammed her locker shut.
Alex Feretto, who’d had the locker next to hers since freshman year, tapped Hunter’s elbow. “Dropped these,” she said, shaking out her blond bangs as she held up the highlighters.
Hunter cleared her throat and offered a smile that was more a slight twitch of her lips as she grabbed the neon writing utensils and stuffed them back into her purse. Alex said a few more words that Hunter couldn’t hear over her own hammering pulse before Alex tossed her backpack over her shoulder and disappeared around the corner.
Hunter’s breath stored in her chest as she waited for the last person to abandon the wide hallway and the steady squeak squeak of shoes against the tile to vanish behind the loud clink of the school’s heavy metal doors. She let it out in a slow hiss as she faced her locker. With trembling fingers, she pulled the latch and winced at the door’s ominous groan. Hunter bit down on the inside of her cheek as the contents of her locker met the harsh hallway light. A naked Barbie stood in the center, its feet melted and affixed to a small square of wood. Red and orange construction paper flames twisted around its partially melted, ash-streaked legs. Hunter pressed her fingers against her lips as she read the words scrawled in black Sharpie across its bare torso.
Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live. And you’re next.
Hunter’s eyes stopped on the doll’s face. Its long black hair was hacked off and singed around its pointed chin, and its expression melted into an unreadable blur of soot.
She closed her locker and took a step away from the wall of metal and the threat that someone had hidden inside. No, not someone.
“Kirk.” Hunter breathed.
I’ll burn you for this, Witch.
Once again, his words echoed through her mind as she raced down the hall and away from campus. Hunter’s chest burned and her shins ached with each hard thump thump of her boots against the pavement. She’d made it all the way to the alley behind Main Street before she slowed to a stop. She covered her face with both hands and screamed into her palms.
Pain needled against her fresh scar as sea breeze dusted her neck and raised the hairs on the backs of her arms. “Looks like you’re in a bit of a tight spot.”
Hunter clutched her purse to her chest and whirled around. Amphitrite leaned against Glitter and Glue’s painted brick, her cerulean skin aglow in the afternoon sun.
Hunter took a step back. “You can’t be here.”
“I can be wherever I’d like,” she said with a flourish of her thin hands.
Hunter’s fingers found the thick scar beneath her shirt as she chewed on unspoken words.
“Don’t worry, Witch. The mortals cannot see me.” Amphitrite flicked droplets of water at a fly buzzing near her head. “I won’t allow it.”
“You and me in an alley behind Main Street.” Hunter nearly choked on a laugh. “Other people seeing you is the last thing I’m worried about.”
“It shouldn’t be. With everything you’ve been up to, truly the last thing you need is to be seen with a creature as dazzling and otherworldly as I.” The goddess pressed herself away from the white brick and walked past Hunter as if they were friends out for a stroll. “I suppose it wouldn’t be great if you were spotted talking to yourself, either.”
Hunter whipped her head from side to side and stared up and down the length of the street. No employees were outside, but Hunter took out her phone and pressed it against her ear for safe measure.
“We were getting too close.” Amphitrite continued as she glided down the sidewalk. “I see that now.” She paused and glanced over her shoulder at Hunter. “You taught me a valuable lesson, Witch. I only hope that I can return the favor.”
Hunter kept her distance from the goddess while she spoke into her phone. “I’ve experienced how you teach lessons. Not interested.”
“I suppose I was a bit harsh.”
Hunter stopped in front of a dumpster and gawked at Amphitrite and the magical waves that propelled her into the middle of the narrow street. “Harsh? You could have killed me.”
A car sped down the alleyway and through the invisible goddess who stood in the middle of it. Water burst against the windshield. Hunter clapped her hand over her mouth. Amphitrite was gone. Red brake lights illuminated, and the car screeched to a stop. The door opened, and the car rocked as a man Hunter didn’t recognize climbed out of the driver’s seat.
“You think throwing water balloons at cars is funny?”
With her phone gripped in one hand, she held both of them out as evidence. “I didn’t throw anything.”
His cowboy boots knocked against the concrete as he walked to the back of his car. “What are you hiding in there?” He hooked his thumbs around his belt loops and jerked his stubbled chin toward Hunter’s purse.
Hunter crossed her arms over her chest. “That’s none of your business.”
He removed his hat, wiped the sweat from his bald scalp, and tugged it back on. “Well, I do see how that would be an invasion of your personal space. My apologies.” He waggled his finger in her direction and added, “Try not to be a menace, there, young lady. You have your whole life—” He coughed, and water dribbled from between his lips. It splatted against the pavement as another round of wet coughs sent his hands around his throat. Water spurted from his mouth like a firehose.
Amphitrite slid out of the open car door. Her laughter was trains crashing as she drifted over to the man. His knees slammed against the wet pavement and water continued to spew from his open mouth.
“Stop!” Hunter screamed. “Let him go!”
“I want something in return.”
Hunter shook her head.
Amphitrite looked down at the man and hiked her narrow shoulders. “Then he dies.”
“What?” Hunter bit out.
Amphitrite cupped her hand around her ear and leaned forward as the man’s hands splashed into the growing puddle.
Heat built within Hunter and her palms itched for the power of the blood that waited in the purse pressed against her side. But she needed that blood for the trees. Without it, she didn’t have a hope of sealing the gates.
“What do you want, Amphitrite?” Hunter shouted.
“A nicer tone, to start.” She adjusted her crown and brushed her hair over her shoulders. “And you, Hunter Goode, my young witch.”
“You have me.”
Amphitrite lifted her skirts and stepped over the man, kicking his ball cap as she passed. “Yes, but there’s a distance now.” She motioned toward Hunter’s stomach. “I know I can’t be allowed back in as this type of banishment spell is nearly impossible to undo, but I want to be included. Let me help you with the realms.” She pressed her palms together as if praying. “Please, Witch. I will use my power to assist. The only payment I require is you. Don’t turn your back on me, Hunter.”
Hunter’s heart pounded in her throat and her gaze rested on the man behind Amphitrite. His lips had begun to turn blue and the color had drained from his cheeks.
“Yes!” The word tore from her dry throat as a harsh bark. “Just let him go!”
Amphitrite snapped her fingers and the rush of water ceased. “Meet you at the cherry tree. Go back on your word again and I won’t be so forgiving.” Another snap of her fingers and the puddle vanished.
The man stood. He pressed his hands against his chest and slid them down the front of his body.
“Are you okay?” Hunter rushed forward, but he jerked away.
Tied to Amphitrite, this was now her fate. She’d forever walk this earth alone, destruction and fear in her wake.
He said nothing as he ran to his car and skidded away. Hunter picked up his ball cap and set it on top of the dumpster. Whether he knew it or not, she had saved him. She should feel good about that. Instead, a piercing ache sat in her stomach like broken glass.
This didn’t change Hunter’s plan. Until she found a way to banish Amphitrite for good, the vengeful goddess would always be watching. No, this didn’t change her tactic one bit. She quickened her pace and rounded Honey Bees Children’s Boutique, the final Main Street business, and started through the small field of wildflowers that separated her house from the bustling section of the street.
Hunter brushed her fingers along the delicate petals of white and purple daisies as she finalized what she would say once she got to her house. She paused as a grasshopper leapt from one side of the path to the other. Actually, Amphitrite had changed her plan. The goddess had made it better. How anything Amphitrite touched could come out improved was a mystery to Hunter, but somehow it had.
“Double trouble,” Hunter whispered to the wind and ran toward her driveway.
Thirty-one
“Father, as you are aware, I have never abandoned my post,” Khenti said. “You were there, so you saw that my spear shields the gate in my absence. I would know should any being try to breach it and I would return immediately.” He gestured at their table. “Come, join us. I’m sure Mercy would like to hear stories of Amun from the mighty Upuant, who has known him for uncounted generations.”
Mercy wasn’t as sure. Though she was surprised—and horrified—by how expressive the jackal face was. The demi-god’s disgust was undeniable in the glance he gave her before he turned his massive body so that she looked at his broad back.
“I have no time for such frivolities. How is she here, in our realm?” Upuant shot the question at his son.
“Mercy is here as a guest of Hathor. You see she is clearly marked by the goddess’s divine symbol.”
Mercy had to resist the urge to shrink behind Khenti as his father’s eye raked over her body, stopping to focus on her chest and the sun disc between mighty horns that rested there.
“Hathor.” Upuant growled the name. “That goddess meddles too much.”
“Hathor does not meddle,” Khenti corrected. “She is Goddess of Women—Mercy is a woman, and a powerful witch in her world. That she has found Hathor’s favor is not surprising.”
“I suppose it is no more surprising than my son simpering after a goddess when he should worship a god like the divine Amun or the powerful Osiris.”
Around them the people pretended to return to their food and merriment, but the more Upuant spoke of Hathor, the more Mercy noticed that the women began to whisper to one another, and though the men didn’t look directly at the demi-god they frowned and were stonily silent.
“I must protest the disrespect you show Hathor.” Khenti’s words were clipped.
Upuant moved his hand as if brushing away something dirty. “Hathor is unimportant. What is important is that my son uphold his duty as Guardian of the Gate.”
“I have never shirked my duty,” Khenti said. “Nor will I ever.”
Mercy stood close enough to Khenti to feel his body tense. She wanted to reach out—to touch his arm and comfort him. His dad was clearly as horrible as he’d described—and most definitely a misogynist as well as a bully, but she was not in her world. Upuant, no matter how much of a jerk, was a demi-god here and right hand to the god who ruled the entire Land of the Dead. So she chewed her lip to keep her mouth shut and silently hoped Upuant would go away. Soon.
Upuant’s bark of laughter was cruel and devoid of humor. “That is what you do now. You choose revelry and dalliance with a mortal whore instead of your duty.”
“Hey! I am not a whore!” The words spilled from Mercy before she could stop them.
Slowly, the jackal’s head swiveled to pierce her with his reddened gaze. “Did I grant you leave to speak, mortal?”
Before Mercy could respond Khenti stepped between his father and her. “You insult my friend and Hathor’s guest. There is no reason for your rudeness. I only attend the festival, as is my right as a citizen of the Land of the Dead.”
Upuant towered over his son as he shouted at him. “I brought you here. I made you Gatekeeper, but your mother spoiled you—made you more human than god. I knew I should not have left you with her so long. Weak! Her emotions made you weak!”
Khenti’s face drained of color. He squared his shoulders and stepped forward, which forced Upuant to shuffle back. “You will not disrespect my mother. She taught me things you are incapable of understanding—like that love and compassion aren’t weakness, but an integral part of a life fully lived. Without them a person becomes cruel, shallow, bitter, and lonely—without them a person becomes you, Father.”
The people on the patio now stared openly at Upuant. Some whispered. Some shook their heads. Other turned and walked away as they sent the demi-god disgusted looks over their shoulders. Mercy watched the jackal head. She saw his red eyes flick around at the crowd. When he’d arrived he’d been oblivious to the watching dead, but no more. Now he realized that his exchange with his son was being observed—and public sentiment was clearly on Khenti’s side. Upuant’s lips lifted as he bared his teeth at his son and Mercy braced herself. It did not surprise her that Upuant was a god who wouldn’t tolerate being embarrassed—especially not by the son he so clearly disliked.
“You dare speak to me thus!” Upuant stepped forward, almost bumping his muscular chest into his son. “I have made you everything you are! Given you everything you have!”
“Not true!” Khenti stood his ground as he glared up at his father. “My mother made me who I am, and Osiris fulfilled my destiny by naming me Guardian of the Gate. The only thing you’ve ever given me is a spark of immortality and the misery of knowing no matter what I do, no matter how hard I try, I will never be the son you wish you had.”
“I should have done this long ago when I first observed your mortal weakness.” Upuant lifted his enormous spear and something dark blotted out the brilliant yellow sun. It was like boiling tar in the air, rolling and twisting around the demi-god’s weapon. “I deny you, Khenti, son of Meryt. Henceforth you are no child of mind. I take my blood from you—and with it that spark of immortality you shun.”
Mercy gasped in horror as Khenti doubled over, as if his father had punched him in his stomach.
“And because you are no longer a demi-god, I strip from you what Osiris gifted you with—henceforth, you are no longer Gatekeeper of the Land of the Dead!”
Khenti’s body jerked in agony again and Mercy wrapped her arm around his waist, lending him her strength so that he didn’t crumple to his knees. She looked up at the malevolent jackal-headed demi-god and was filled with rage and arrogance. She didn’t pause to think—Mercy only acted. She focused and felt the warm limestone under her feet and thought of the verdant plants that filled the city and framed the immense river. She was rewarded by a zap of power she drew up through her feet. It sizzled along her spine. She lifted the hand that wasn’t supporting Khenti, and in a voice filled with power she did something she’d never done and before that moment had believed she would never have to do—Mercy Anne Goode hexed someone.
“Three by three by mystical, magical number three.
Land of the Dead—hear my plea
Green Witch I am, Gate Guardian I be
Return to Upuant the harm he dispenses with such glee
Three times three return it to he
Three times three return it to he
Three times three return it to he
Upuant, hexed you shall forevermore be!”
Mercy coiled the power lent to her by the green growing things all around them. Emerald light shimmered in the palm of her hand, and like it was a magical, glowing baseball she threw it at Upuant.
Upuant roared as it struck his jackal face, and he staggered back. Then he raised his spear higher and roared, “Witch and son no more, in the name of divine Osiris thou art banished!” The demi-god drove his spear down so that it hit the limestone with a thunderous crack, which opened to expose a maw of darkness. With a motion so quick it blurred, Upuant leapt across the darkness, and shoved Khenti, so that his son, along with Mercy, fell into the pit.
* * *
Mercy clung to Khenti as they fell. She had never been so completely terrified in her life—not even when the Fenrir had torn from the tree and attacked them. She hadn’t realized that night that she would lose her mother, hadn’t understood the danger she’d been in. But then, the moment she fell with Khenti, Mercy was completely aware that her world, her entire life as she had known it, had ended.
