Omens Bite, page 26
It seemed they fell a long time—or maybe only a heartbeat—and then they hit sand and Mercy could do nothing but fight for breath and try to blink her eyes clear of tears so she could see.
“Mercy!” Khenti lifted her so that she rested half in his lap, half on warm sand. “Mercy! Are you hurt?”
She shook her head and coughed, finally able to gulp air. She wiped her eyes. Her voice shook almost as hard as her trembling body. “I—I d-don’t know!”
“Breathe, just breathe with me. Look at me, Mercy. In and out … in and out.”
Mercy focused on Khenti’s dark, compassionate eyes and she breathed with him. Her vision cleared and she was able to sit by herself. She stared at a world drastically different than the land they had just left.
Nothing was green. Dunes waved around them, like the sand was water swept forward by a never-ending tide. The sky above them was bruised, as if a Midwest thunderstorm brewed, but there was no hint of rain in the hot air, though humidity pressed stickily against her skin.
“Where are we?”
Khenti took her shoulders in his hands. “Upuant has banished us.”
“Well, yeah, I heard him. But to where?”
“Duat,” Khenti said.
Mercy’s stomach clenched and she had to swallow several times before she could be sure she wasn’t going to puke. “But Duat is your Hell.”
Khenti nodded somberly. “Yes.”
Mercy pushed away from him and stood. “No! I can’t be in Hell! I’m not even dead. Plus, I haven’t been perfect, but I’m not a bad person. When I die Freya is going to welcome me to the Summerlands. My mom will be there. My sister will be there. My damn cat will be there. I don’t belong here! Plus, I have to get home! I have to tell Hunter and Xena what’s going on—that the sickness the gates have is poisoning our town!” Mercy realized she was hyperventilating when she couldn’t yell anymore, when she couldn’t say anything at all.
Khenti stood and took her into his arms. He held her tightly as he murmured, “I know, Mercy. I know. I will fix this. I will make this right. I will get you home. Trust me. Please, please trust me.”
Mercy clung to him. He was solid and warm and strong. This is his world. He can get us out. Mercy’s breathing slowed and became normal. Gently, Khenti released her.
“Better?” he asked.
“Are we still in Hell?” she quipped.
His lips twitched. “You are better.” Khenti looked around them. “We cannot stay here. We must find shelter.”
“Shelter? There’s shelter in Hell?”
“Yes, so that the people condemned here may hide. It is more enjoyable for the demons if their prey are a challenge to hunt.” Khenti started to climb up the closest dune. “And we must find Anubis.”
“Anubis? He’s a god, right?” Mercy scrambled up the dune beside Khenti.
“Yes. He is the Guardian of the entrance to Duat. I will explain to him that you do not belong here.” Khenti stopped suddenly and turned to Mercy. He stared at her chest and breathed a long sigh of relief. “Hathor’s mark is still there.”
Mercy looked down at the henna and frowned. “The horns are fading.”
“But the rest of her mark remains.” They trudged up the dune. “Anubis will see that you are a living mortal. He will recognize Hathor’s mark. All he need do is speak to the goddess and you will be returned to your world. My father is only a demi-god. His power rests in Osiris, but he is not Osiris. Anubis should be able to reverse your banishment.”
“Mine? What about you?”
Khenti didn’t speak for several breaths and when he did he would not look at Mercy. “My father has disowned me and banished me from the Land of the Dead. Osiris will not overturn his general’s command. And I am no longer a demi-god.”
“But what does that mean?” Mercy grabbed his arm as she slipped in the sand. He pulled her to her feet and they continued, hand-in-hand, to climb up.
“It means I am fully mortal. I will age normally and I can be killed here, which is the only way I will escape Duat. My heart will be weighed against the feather of judgment, and I believe I will be found worthy to enter the Land of the Dead. Then Osiris will have to grant me the afterlife promised in my Book of the Dead.”
They crested the top of the dune. Mercy struggled to catch her breath as she tried to comprehend what Khenti had just told her. “Wait, you mean the only way out of Hell is for you to die?”
“Yes.” He smiled at her. “It is not that terrible. Well, the death part will undoubtedly be unpleasant, but then I will be welcomed back to the Land of the Dead, and eventually rejoin my mother and spend eternity joyously.”
“But you’ll be dead.”
His smile slid from his face. “My alternative is to remain alive, but here.” Khenti gestured around them. “And I do not wish to remain here.”
They’d reached the crest of the dune. Mercy stared around them at a desolate land lacking in beauty or plant life. She shuddered and felt terribly weak.
“What is it?” Khenti held tightly to her hand as if he could transmit reassurance by touch.
“I’ve never been anywhere without plants. Khenti, I get my magic from green, growing things. Without plants I feel worse than naked. I feel abandoned and powerless.”
He touched her chin and lifted her face so that she looked into his dark eyes. “But plants are anchored to the earth, correct?”
“Well, yes.”
“Then the earth is also the source of your power. Remember that beneath your feet is an ancient earth. It does hold power for those who know how to access it. I believe you accessed it when you hexed my father.”
She nodded shakily. “I did, though I also pulled energy from the plants around me. Sorry, I’m usually not so whiny. I’m just—not myself right now. This is my first time in Hell.”
His lips lifted. “Mine as well. Do you think it is too much for a second date?”
Mercy couldn’t help smiling at him. “Yeah, you went a little overboard, but you get points for effort.”
He made an exaggerated show of wiping his brow. “Whew! I was worried it was not going well.”
“How about we find this Anubis guy and see what he has to say, and then you can check back in with me about how date number two is going—but fair warning, if it ends in death for either of us that’s an automatic bomb.”
“Noted,” he said. “Anubis guards the entrance of Duat—and there is only one. So, he must be close.”
“What do we look for?” Mercy put her hand over her eyes to stop the glare of the angry sky against the sand and looked around them.
“A jackal-headed god.”
Mercy stared at Khenti. “But your dad’s a jackal-headed god.”
Khenti nodded. “Yes, because Upuant is a son of Anubis.”
“Oh, shit. That can’t be good.”
Khenti shrugged. “It is not bad. Anubis is also my grandfather.”
“Point taken. Um, does he like you?” Mercy asked.
There was a crackling beside them. Khenti whirled and pushed Mercy behind him as he lifted his hand over his head and shouted, “To me, ramah!” Instantly, his long, razor-pointed spear appeared in his hand and Khenti held it at the ready as he faced the darkness that swirled before him.
From the middle of what looked like a billowing black cloud come to earth an enormous man strode toward them. His skin was dark umber. He was dressed all in black leather and carried a huge sword. His head was similar to Upuant’s, only this jackal was larger, more ferocious, and as dark as rich, newly plowed earth.
Khenti dropped to his knees and bowed so low his forehead almost touched the sand. Mercy quickly did the same, though she also peeked up, trying to see if the giant god was going to skewer them.
The god stopped and rested the point of his sword against the sand. The jackal’s fierce expression softened. “Ah, grandson! There you are. Please, rise. Your companion may rise as well.”
They stood as Khenti said, “Grandfather, I greet you! I would like to present to you my friend, Green Witch Mercy Goode, Gate Guardian of Goodeville.”
Mercy bowed again. “It’s nice to meet you, Anubis.”
“Hathor told me my grandson had made a friend from a mortal realm. I did not imagine that I would meet her. I would say I am pleased, but your situation is not, how shall I put this, ideal.”
“So, you know what Father has done,” said Khenti.
Anubis nodded his massive head. “I am immediately aware of all banishments from the Land of the Dead. I was saddened by Upuant’s decree, though not entirely surprised. His temper has always been mercurial. I went to him the moment I felt the banishment.”
“Then you know how unfair this is,” said Khenti. “Even had I died, I have not lived an evil life and would not be sentenced to Duat.”
“And I’m not even from here,” added Mercy.
“Yes, it is unfortunate,” said Anubis.
“But you can fix it, right?” said Mercy. “Zap us back to where we’re supposed to be?”
“I wish I could, young Green Witch. I can easily rescind any of my son’s commands. He is only a petulant demi-god with limited powers. But when Upuant banished the two of you he did so in the name of Osiris. My brother and I have an agreement. I do not interfere in the Land of the Dead, and he does not tamper with Duat. I cannot reverse Upuant’s banishment.”
Mercy felt like she was going to puke. “Then what are we supposed to do? How do we get out of here?”
“It is quite simple. You die,” said Anubis.
Thirty-two
Hunter stopped in the middle of the driveway where the Camry should have been. But the car was gone. She adjusted the thick purse strap over her shoulder and stomped to the closed garage. Mercy had to be there. She couldn’t just skip school and go gallivanting around Goodeville in a car she wasn’t legally allowed to drive. This wasn’t a party. This was life or death—saving the town, the planet, or letting it perish at the hands of otherworldly monsters.
She grabbed the garage door’s metal handle and hefted it open. The wheels squealed against the rusted track before abruptly stopping. Hunter tried to tug the door down then back up, but it was no use. The heavy door was stuck. She tipped her head back and sighed. She just wanted one thing to go her way. Apparently, that was way too much to ask.
She bent over and peered into the musty garage. No car. Only the matching pair of bicycles their mother had gotten them when they’d turned eleven, and the rickety old shelves covered in cans of paint and boxes puckered and wrinkled with age.
The purse slid down Hunter’s arm and she jerked it back over her shoulder. Of course Mercy wasn’t home. Anytime Hunter needed her sister, Mag made herself unavailable. Hunter had wanted to grieve at their mother’s funeral in a different way than her sister had organized, and Mercy had made sure Hunter didn’t feel welcome. Before arriving at Goode Lake for Mr. Parrott’s Rite of Release, Hunter had practiced what she’d wanted to say to Mercy over and over again. Her sister had kicked her out then, too. And now, when Hunter was hours away from fixing the gates for good, when she needed her sister the most, Mercy was gone. Poof. Vanished.
Whatever. She didn’t actually need her sister. Hunter could and would do it all on her own. She did everything on her own anyway. Double trouble had ended a long, long time ago.
Hunter’s jaw pulsed as she walked around the front of the house and stormed up the porch steps. As she yanked open the screen and barged through the front door, Xena leapt off the arm of the couch and landed on the balls of her feet, hands raised in the air, and teeth bared.
“Kitten!” She relaxed onto her heels and scooped Hunter into a hug.
Xena’s wild puff of hair tickled Hunter’s nose and made her eyes water, but the cinnamon and spice that drifted from her mother’s bathrobe made Hunter’s eyes water for another reason. Hunter pushed away from Xena and swiped the back of her hand across her eyes. She wouldn’t let emotions cloud her judgment or keep her from her goal. She was fixing the gates—with or without Mercy.
“Where’s Mag?”
Xena’s smooth brow furrowed. “School.” She tapped a pointed nail against her lips.
“School’s over.” Hunter adjusted her purse and brushed past Xena through the living room. “She wasn’t there, anyway.” The scent of tuna wafted over her as she entered the kitchen. Multiple cans in different stages of being opened were spread across the counter. “Did she bail on you, too?” Hunter asked, nose wrinkled.
“We had a tiff.” Xena slid onto the kitchen counter. Tuna juice sloshed onto the quartz as the cat person batted the half-open can. “She spent the weekend with Emily, but I expected her back after school.”
Hunter opened the pantry and took out the rusted step stool. “Looks like she’s fully into her self-care routine.” She gritted her teeth as each step creaked and her gaze washed over her mother’s basket of Kitchen Witch accouterments. This house was too full of memories, too full of comforts. She needed the turmoil of her current life. It kept her awake. It kept her alive. It kept her ahead of her feelings.
“I’m worried about her, kitten.” Xena’s voice was small and hushed. “She hasn’t returned my messages, and I can no longer feel her.”
Hunter grabbed her tarot deck from the top shelf and slipped the blue velvet satchel into her purse. “I haven’t been able to feel her in weeks.”
Xena jumped off the counter and met Hunter in the pantry doorway. “But I am her familiar. I should be able to—”
Hunter put her hand on Xena’s arm and guided her back into the kitchen. “I get that you’re worried, but I’m not. Mercy is doing what she does best, selfishly seeking out the most attention she can possibly get. It’s an old, tired story, and I’m not here for it.” She closed the pantry door behind her and headed back into the living room.
With a hiss, Xena stomped her foot on the ground. “There is something wrong with my Mercy kitten!”
Hunter stopped at the front door as a growl struck her back. “I can’t do it again, Xena.” Exhaustion coated her words as she turned to face the creature that had been looking over the Goode family for decades. “I can’t let Mercy railroad me into another bad decision. I can fix the gates. For real this time.” She clutched her purse against her side and pushed open the screen door. “When I’m finished, I’ll help you find her.”
Xena’s pointed chin quivered and she wrapped the bathrobe tight around her chest. “You will never forgive yourself if you leave now and something tragic has truly befallen your sister.”
“I think I can handle it,” Hunter grumbled as the screen door slapped against the doorframe and she charged down the stairs and into the driveway.
If Mercy had been where she was supposed to be instead of out on a pay attention to me bender, Hunter wouldn’t be relegated, again, to walking all over town to solve their problems. As soon as she fixed the gates, she was getting a job so she could pay for a Lyft whenever she needed one. Who’d ever heard of a superhero who walked from crime fighting gig to crime fighting gig? It’s a bird! It’s a plane! No, it’s a pedestrian? Hunter groaned and shifted the purse strap when a purple glimmer pulled her attention to the half-open garage.
A smile plumped her cheeks. Yes, Hunter Goode could handle anything.
The purse thumped against her side as she ran to the garage and ducked under the door. Glittery purple and yellow tassels hung limply from the handlebars of her old bike and sparkled in a narrow beam of sunlight. She wheeled the bike out of the garage. The dirty white plastic snap-on beads that decorated the spokes clacked as the wheels turned. Hunter adjusted the purple seat and handlebars before she dropped her purse into the basket and balanced on the bike she hadn’t ridden for more than three years. No, it wasn’t the Batmobile or even a flying broomstick people so often associated with witches, but it was faster than her two feet alone. She pedaled down the driveway with the same fury she’d possessed as an angsty preteen and skidded onto Main Street.
A bronze-and-white sheriff’s car flashed its headlights as she zoomed past, but she couldn’t be bothered to stop and discuss the biking rules of the road when the safety of the town hung in the balance.
Hunter relaxed into the burning ache that spread through her legs and lungs as she pedaled away from Main Street and through neighborhoods on her way to the cherry tree. She left thoughts of her sister and Xena, Kirk and Amphitrite on the sun-soaked breeze and replaced them with focus and intention.
Close the gate. Close the gate. Close the gate.
Thirty-three
When Khenti said nothing in response to Anubis’s bizarre announcement Mercy blurted, “No! That’s not a thing. I’m sixteen—barely. I have lots of years left to live. I am not dying now.”
“Yet in your world you have a patron goddess, do you not?” Anubis asked.
“Yes, Freya, Norse Goddess of Love and War,” said Mercy.
“She will call your soul to her when you die. You will be returned safely to your goddess, though early for your afterlife.” The god spoke nonchalantly, as if he talked about showing up early for a random appointment.
“No, no, no! I have to get home. Alive. The fate of my world—or at the very least my town—depends on it,” said Mercy.
“That is unfortunate,” said Anubis.
“There must be another way,” said Khenti. “I do not mind dying, though I wish I had lived a fuller life, had a mate and children.” His gaze found Mercy. His smile was sad. “But this is my fault, not Mercy’s. She shouldn’t have to pay for my father’s anger. And more than that, her world shouldn’t have to pay.”
“It saddens me,” said Anubis, “but I cannot cross Osiris and disrupt the balance of our world, though if Green Witch Mercy discovers a way to return to her world alive I give you my oath that I will do nothing to stop her.”
