Authors: George Mann
He didn’t know what to do. He held onto her as they spiraled lower again, on a direct collision course with the trees.
“What have they done to you?” he called over the screaming wind, but it was too late, and they hurtled into the upper branches of a tree. He let go of her as the trailing limbs struck him thick and fast, whipping his face, and the last thing he saw before unconsciousness snatched away all thought was the sight of her, drifting away again on a carpet of light, lost and out of reach.
Ginny…
Ginny…
Ginny…
Ginny…
Sekhmet
…
Waking.
Pain.
Darkness.
Adoration
.
Sekhmet
.
Ginny woke with a start.
Her breath was ragged.
It was dark, and the air was cold and still. She’d been here for some time. She could tell by the way her body ached; how the muscles in her lower back had begun to seize. She tried to move, but she felt lightheaded and nearly swooned.
She could hear voices—no, a single voice. She tried to speak, but her lips wouldn’t move. Her tongue felt thick in her mouth.
The voice… it was in her head. She couldn’t understand what it was saying, but it wanted her to get up. She stirred, slowly moving her legs.
“Easy, now.”
This was a different voice. A familiar voice. Amaury.
“What…?” she managed to stammer, dizziness causing the entire world to spin on its axis.
“Careful,” he said, coming to her aid, taking her by the shoulders. “It’s just the aftereffects of the drug. You’ll be fine. Better than fine! You’ll feel renewed.”
The voice in her head was pressing her to move again—an incessant, impatient buzzing. She ignored it.
“Where…?” she said.
She felt a cup touch her lips, and she thirstily gulped at the cool water within. A match flared. She watched it bobbing in the darkness for a moment, until it started to grow, becoming a fist-sized ball of flame. Someone had lit a torch. She recognized the stink of burning pitch.
Slowly, the room resolved around her, the shadows banished by the warm glow.
She was back in the tomb, deep beneath the ground. She tried to sit up, but the world lurched again, and she fell back, resting her head against the hard surface. Above her, she could see the hands of Sekhmet, fingers splayed. It was the idol she’d seen on her first visit here. She was lying on the concave table, deep inside the tomb.
She rolled onto her side, feeling nauseous. Amaury was standing in the doorway, holding the torch. They seemed to be alone.
“Why am I here?” she said. And then her mind slowly caught up, and she realized that it was only Amaury who could have brought her here, only Amaury who’d had the opportunity to drug her drink on the terrace. It was
him
. He’d done this. “What have you done?”
Amaury smiled. “Don’t worry, Ginny. I’m not going to hurt you. In fact, no one is ever going to hurt you again.” He stepped closer. “I said I had a gift for you.”
“The ring.”
“A mere trinket,” he said. “The real gift was far greater.”
Was
. What did he mean?
She tried to sit up again, and winced at a sudden pain in her head.
“Shhh, be still. There’s a voice inside your head, isn’t there?”
“I… yes, I think so. I don’t understand.”
“Don’t trouble yourself. You’re quite safe. You see, I had to drug you to bring you here. You might have caused a fuss, and we couldn’t have that. The thing is, you’re so perfect, Ginny. Perfect in every way. We couldn’t have asked for anyone better.”
“You’re not making any sense,” said Ginny. This time she did sit up, swinging her legs down, and the pain in her head subsided.
“That’s it,” said Amaury. “Listen to it. Do what it says. It’ll hurt less that way.”
She frowned. The whispering voice was like a constant background droning, a murmuring in her inner ear. It was speaking in a strange, foreign tongue, but she somehow knew that it wanted her to stand. When she didn’t, she felt another lancing pain, just behind her left ear. She dropped down from the table, gasping for breath, and the pain subsided again.
“You see,” said Amaury, “the sooner you let her in, the sooner you’ll be free.”
“You bastard,” she growled. “I trusted you, and this is what I get for it.” She lashed out at him, her hand balled, and as she swung, she saw that her fist had begun to glow, taking on a strange, ethereal aspect. It struck Amaury in the chest and he fell back, stumbling, catching hold of the wall to stop himself going over. He righted himself, still smiling.
“I see she exerts more of an influence with every passing second,” said Amaury. “This is good.”
“Who?” demanded Ginny. “Tell me what you’ve done!”
“Sekhmet,” said Amaury. “You are very privileged, Miss Ginny Gray. As the world turns and the heavens are reshaped, you shall be one of the first to walk both realms. Sekhmet lives again inside of you. When Thoth reclaims the world, you shall be the first to stand by his side, and all shall know your wrath.”
“My God,” said Ginny. “You really believe it, don’t you? You really do think you can wake the ancient gods?”
“You are living proof,” said Amaury. “Fight it if you must, but you know it to be true. You can hear her, can’t you? She’s there, inside of you, waiting to come out.”
Ginny glanced at the idol behind her, at the table she’d been lying on. “That’s what this place is, isn’t it? It’s not a tomb at all. It’s never
been
a tomb. It’s some kind of… resurrection machine. That’s what you’ve been doing here in the desert. You must be insane!”
She doubled over as another pain shot through her head, like a hot poker, right behind her eyes. For a moment she could see nothing but speckles of white light. The voice was growing stronger, louder. She knew she wouldn’t be able to fight it forever.
“The exhibition,” said Ginny. “You’re targeting New York.”
“What better place to begin than the Empire of Greed,” he said. “Where temples have been raised to the sky in worship of the false idol—money. Together, we shall tear it down and start anew.”
Ginny felt a sensation building inside of her, the stirrings of something she couldn’t control—excitement, fear, anticipation.
“No!” she cried, clutching at her head. “Ginny… Ginny… Ginny… Ginny…” Tears were streaming down her cheeks. She looked up at Amaury, pleading, but he only smiled indulgently, waiting for the moment to pass. She thought if only she could keep saying it, then it might remain true. “Ginny… Ginny… Ginny…
Sekhmet
.”
“There,” said Amaury. “Now doesn’t that feel better?”
Light bloomed.
The Ghost opened his eyes. He was staring up at the ceiling. The plaster was cracked, and there were moldering patches in the corner where there’d been a leak in the apartment above and no one had ever bothered to repair it.
Home, then. Or his New York apartment, anyway.
He sat up, setting off a wave of dizzying pain in his head. He put a hand to the back of his neck, groaning. His broken ribs burned.
“Careful,” said Donovan, “you’re going to have quite a lump.”
The Ghost looked round to see Donovan was sitting in his favorite armchair, smoking a cigarette and helping himself to the whisky.
“What am I doing on the floor?” said the Ghost, slowly getting to his feet. And then the memories flooded back, and he remembered the fight at the museum, the tree, and Ginny.
“I brought you back here once it was over. You were out cold. Astrid said she saw you fall from the sky and hit a tree.”
The Ghost nodded, and then wished he hadn’t. “Did she tell you about Ginny, too?”
“She said you were calling her name as you came down. And that Sekhmet got away.”
“Not Sekhmet,” said the Ghost. “Ginny.”
“What?” said Donovan, heading over to the sideboard to pour him a drink. “I think that tree’s knocked the sense out of you.”
“No,
listen
to me, Felix. Sekhmet
is
Ginny. That’s what they’ve done to her. They’ve turned her into the vessel. When I got close…” he trailed off. He could see from the look on Donovan’s face that he didn’t need to explain any more.
“Good God,” said Donovan. “The vile bastards. No wonder you didn’t bring her down.”
“I froze, Felix,” he said. “I didn’t know what to do.”
Donovan passed him a whisky. He downed it in one, and then pulled his goggles and hat off, tossing them on the sideboard.
“At least now we know what we have to do,” said Donovan. “What it’ll take to get her back.”
“All that power…” said the Ghost. “We don’t know what it’s done to her. She didn’t even recognize me. She tried to kill me.”
“I saw what happened, with those… lions,” said Donovan. “Where did you learn to do that? I watched them take down two Enforcers last night, but you simply got up and walked away. It was remarkable.”
“Astrid,” said the Ghost. “She worked her magic again.”
“Quite literally, in this case,” said Donovan. “She’s an impressive woman, Gabriel. She didn’t seem at all phased out there. Although afterwards she just… well, she upped and ran off in the middle of our conversation.”
The Ghost frowned. “She must have had good reason. That’s not like Astrid. She’s a valuable member of the team.”
“Oh, so we’re a team now, are we?”
“Well—you, me, Mullins, Astrid… Ginny,” he said. “What else would you call it?” He poured himself another drink. “Mullins did well tonight.”
“He lost a few men, but the Commissioner will probably award him a bloody medal for the way he took down those cultists. He deserves it, too.”
There was a rap at the door. The Ghost looked at Donovan, frowning. “Mullins?” he said.
Donovan shook his head. “No. He’s down at the station, sorting out the paperwork. He won’t be done for hours yet.”
The Ghost crossed to the door and peered through the spy hole. “Astrid?” he said, pulling it open a moment later. “What’s the matter?”
She was leaning against the doorjamb, panting for breath. He let her in, closed the door behind her, and fetched a glass of water as she propped herself against the windowsill. She’d obviously run all the way there.
“I know where they’re keeping her,” she said, when she’d regained her composure a moment later.
“Who?” said Donovan.
“Ginny!” She took another long gulp of water. “There was this… baboon, and I followed it.” She looked at Donovan. “I’m sorry for cutting out on you, leaving you to deal with… well,
him
, but I caught sight of it, and thought if I followed it, it might lead me somewhere useful.”
“Astrid, I could kiss you,” said the Ghost.
She smiled. “Maybe later.”
“So what, you know where they’re based?” said Donovan.
Astrid shook her head. “No. I don’t think this is their base of operations or anything. It’s far too small for that. More like a safe house. It’s a rundown apartment over a shop on Twenty-Third and Fourth. I watched them take her inside. There were about five of them, and the baboon.”
“Was she still… well, was she
Ginny
?” said the Ghost.
Astrid nodded. “She must have reverted to normal before I caught up with them. She looked drained or delirious. They practically had to carry her.”
The Ghost looked at Donovan. “Have you got any bullets left in that gun?”
“Enough,” said Donovan.
“Then we’re going after her. If we strike while they’re still reeling from the ambush, we might have a chance of getting her out of there.”
“More to the point,” said Astrid, “Ginny herself will be too weary to manifest again this soon after a battle. We’ll be safe from Sekhmet.”
“And what do we do with her when we’ve got her?” said the Ghost. “She’s not herself. She didn’t know who I was.”
“I have some ideas on that front,” said Astrid.
“All right. Then we do it—right now,” said the Ghost, reaching for his goggles.
“One thing first,” said Astrid.
“What’s that?”
“Pour me one of those damn whiskies. I’ve just run all the way here.”
Donovan laughed. “You know, you grow on me more every time I meet you.”
* * *
The shop was actually a small bakery on the intersection of the two roads. The shelves in the window were empty, and had been for some time. Dead flies had settled in the windows, and a small handwritten sign had been posted on the door, declaring the shop “under new management”.
It was late now, and only a few lonely cars hissed by, tires kissing asphalt. The temperature had dropped, and a cool breeze was blowing in off the river. The Ghost’s heart was thrumming like a jackhammer as he squatted on a fire escape across the street, watching for any hint of activity from the windows. The lights were off, and the place seemed deserted. There could be scores of them holed up inside, or just a handful—they wouldn’t know until they made their move.
Donovan was down below, skulking in the shadows, and Astrid was on the opposite side of the intersection. He had a mind to leave her there while they went in, but she’d asked him for a gun, and he wasn’t about to start patronizing her, not after everything she’d done. Like Donovan had said, she was a remarkable woman, and she was doing this to help him get Ginny back. Who was he to tell her not to get involved for her own protection?
There was no subtlety about their plan. They weren’t planning to sneak in via the roof, or try to get her out without a fight. When Astrid gave the signal, they were converging on the door to the baker’s shop and forcing their way inside, then shooting anyone who came at them until there was no one left in their way. They’d try to retain the element of surprise, of course—at least until the first shot was fired. After that… well, he supposed it would depend on what resistance they met.
He saw Astrid give the signal, and grabbed the rail on the fire escape, leaping over and landing in a crouch below. He dashed across the street, Donovan coming up behind him. “Ready?”
“Ready,” they both replied in concert.
He gave the door an almighty shove with his shoulder, and the lock splintered almost instantly. The shop hadn’t been built with security in mind; no one would suspect an Ancient Egyptian resurrectionist cult of hiding the avatar of a reborn goddess here. He supposed that was the point.