Gunmetal Magic (36 page)

He slid the window open. “Hi there.”

Ammit stared at us.

“Shoo! Go away, girl!” I said.

“Girl?”

“Kate says it’s female.”

“What is it?”

“It’s an Egyptian demon who devours souls.”

Raphael sighed. It was a dejected,
I am so tired of this crap
sigh and it made me want to hug him.

Ammit stared at us.

“If only I had a bow,” I murmured. “I could totally shoot it in the eye from here. Boom, arrow to the brain.”

“Your bow is on the table downstairs. Do you like it?”

“It’s the most beautiful thing in the world.” Aside from him and Baby Rory.

“I’m so glad.”

“How did you get one?”

He smiled at me, that handsome, slightly evil Raphael smile. “It’s a secret.”

I ran downstairs to fetch the bow. When I returned, Raphael still stood by the window. “It could go through the door to get to us,” Raphael said. “So why doesn’t it?”

We peered at Ammit.

“What is it, girl?” Raphael asked, his voice coaxing. “Did Timmy fall down the well?”

Ammit said nothing.

“It would be crazy to go out there,” Raphael said.

“We’d have to be insane.”

I pulled on my pants, socks, and sneakers. Raphael pulled out two fresh T-shirts from a chest by the basket of clean laundry and tossed one to me. I grabbed my Ifor, he got his knives, and we took off down the stairs.

Outside, the night was bright. Pale bluish vapor rose from the chunks of concrete that made up the low wall around the house—something magic must’ve been brought out by the moonlight. I drew my bow and we snuck around the building, moving silently, carefully walking on the balls of our feet.

Step.

Another step.

I turned the corner and the tip of my arrow touched Ammit’s nose. It’s amazing how far you can jump backward, if properly motivated.

Raphael stepped around me and approached the massive beast. We had killed it. I could still picture its corpse in my mind, fresh and vivid, the blood, the dulled eyes, the great maw gaping lifelessly, spilling the tongue on the ground. Yet there it stood.

Raphael reached out.

“Don’t,” I warned.

He touched its head, petting its cheek. The tentacles of Ammit’s mane twisted toward him and slid harmlessly off his hand.

The beast sighed. Two clouds of moist vapor escaped its nostrils.

It didn’t open its crocodile mouth and bite Raphael’s hand off.

Slowly Ammit turned, trotted forward a few feet, and looked at us over its muscular shoulder.

You’ve got to be kidding me.

“No.”

The jaws gaped open and the roar rolled forth, primal and ancient, so much older than the city around it, so alien that I wondered for a second if the illusion of Atlanta would tear under the force of that primeval call and I would end up standing in the muddy, rich waters of the Nile. I could almost see the tall slender reeds shifting in the night breeze.

The roar sang through my veins, urging me to follow.

Ammit took a step forward and looked at us.

“Should we?” I murmured.

Raphael shrugged. “Alright, Lassie. Lead on.”

The great beast started down the slope, and we followed. Ammit built to a fast trot. We ran through the magic-soaked city. My feet were weightless, and we devoured the distance, swallowing mile after mile, tireless and exhilarated.

Tendrils of faint orange vapor curled from the beast, streaming from its mane and back. Its magic enveloped me. It felt so right, running like this, hunting like this, next to Raphael. Lean, muscular, the white T-shirt molded to his body, he ran with grace and power, his long legs in gray Pack sweatpants carrying him forward. His skin almost glowed. Sweat dampened his dark hair. His dark eyes focused on something far ahead.

The compound bow in my hand could be made of horn, wood, and sinew. The oversized white T-shirt Raphael had given me could be a tunic. The asphalt under my feet could be sand or the dry red soil of low hills. The air smelled of lotus and water lily, and sometimes of dew-soaked jasmine, and then of dry desert.

Ammit stopped and I almost cried out. I wanted to keep running.

The reality came back, fading in through the magic. We were in front of the Cutting Edge office.

The magic of Ammit swirled around us, evaporating slowly, like distant notes of perfume dissipating from the skin.

A second Ammit thundered down the street toward us, a huge black horse following it. Roman dismounted next to us,
his staff in his hand. He wore a tank top and black pajama pants with an Eeyore pattern.

“I have had it with this shit,” he announced. “I got woken up in the middle of the night, didn’t get any sleep again, rode across the whole damned city,
nu na cherta mne ato nuzhno
.” He waved his hand in front of his face. “Damn magic everywhere, making me sneeze.”

The Ammit next to him opened its mouth. Roman whacked it with the top of his staff on the nose. “You—shut up.”

The Ammit looked just like a cat who had gotten popped with a newspaper: half-shocked, half-outraged. Roman surveyed the two of us. “What’s the matter with you two? Why do you look all dazed?”

The magic melted, taking the visions of the Nile with it. My mind struggled to formulate a coherent thought, any thought. I opened my mouth. “Your pajamas have Eeyore on them.”

“I like Eeyore. He’s sensible. A sober outlook on life never hurt anyone.”

Raphael shook his head, trying to clear it. “What are you doing here?”

Roman grimaced. “How would I know? Last night I helped Andrea and then a winged
gadina
took my staff, and tonight I woke up with this varmint howling under my window.”

Raphael turned to me. “Last night? After I called you?”

“Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you call me to come and help?”

“Why would I call you? You can’t do magic.”

The wheels slowly turned in Raphael’s head. He looked at Roman. “How long have you been helping her?”

Roman’s face took on a dangerous expression. “I’m sorry, since when do I answer to you, exactly?”

The two men squared off. Great. I tried the door of the office. Unlocked.

Raphael stepped forward. Roman did, too. They stood dangerously close.

“I asked you a question,” Raphael said, his voice saturated with menace.

Roman’s voice turned icy. “And I told you to fuck yourself. Which part wasn’t clear?”

“Hey!” I snapped.

They looked at me.

“The door is open,” I said. “You can stay out here and compare inches for the entire night, but I’m going inside.”

I swung the door open and stepped across the threshold.

The office was bathed in a gentle yellow glow. The air smelled of sweet myrrh, fiery cinnamon, balsam, and the smoky, spicy mix of thyme and marjoram. The pungent aroma didn’t seem to drift but saturated the room, hanging in the air, filling the place.

I stepped inside. My desk and Kate’s were missing. Four braziers, bronze dishes filled with some sort of fuel on tall metal stems, burned bright, set on both sides of a large chair. In the chair sat Anapa. He rested his cheek on his hand, bent at the elbow and leaning on the chair’s armrest, one long leg over the other.

Flames played in his eyes. He looked absurd, sitting there in his makeshift throne room, wearing a three-piece black suit. Thought he owned this place, did he?

I crossed my arms. “Love the makeover. The room has so much more space now. How much do we owe you?”

“Who are you?” Roman asked behind me.

“That’s Anubis, God of the Dead,” I told him.

“The name is Inepu,” Anapa said. It sounded midway between Anapa and Enahpah. “The Greeks didn’t bother to pronounce it properly. I always found them very close-minded. Don’t follow their suit, you’re better than that.”

“You aren’t a god,” Roman said. “Gods can’t walk the Earth. Don’t have enough juice.” He turned to me and Raphael. “Trust me, I’ve tried to summon one.”

“Why the hell would you summon a god?” Raphael asked.

“He was trying to kill his cousin,” Anapa said.

“That was a long time ago.” Roman waved his hand.

Anapa’s lips curved, and he smiled a bright genuine smile, suffused with humor. “No, that was last May.”

“Like I said, a long time ago,” Roman said.

Anapa laughed and pointed his finger at Roman. “I like you.”

“Are you a god?” Raphael asked.

Anapa waved his hand. “Yes and no. The answer is complicated.”

Right, we were too stupid to understand it. “I’m sure we can scrape enough brain cells together between the three of us. Indulge us.”

“There is no need for such hostility, Andrea Marie. I’m not your enemy. Well, not yet.”

So he knew my middle name. So what.

Anapa shrugged. “I suppose I will explain this to you, so you will stop wondering about it. We have important subjects to discuss and I’ll need your full attention. When magic began to fade from the world, I took a mortal form and fathered a child, pouring all my essence into it. Then I fell asleep. My child in turn had a child, and he had a child, and on and on, my lineage stretched throughout time, until the returning magic awoke me. As I became aware, I hovered on the verge of existence until my descendant decided to do as most men do and bred with a charming woman. I called to my essence within the bloodline and merged with the beginning life during the moment of conception. In a sense, I fathered myself into being. You could say I am an avatar. Neat trick, huh?” He winked at us.

The human part of him kept him alive during the tech. That also meant he was weak while the magic was gone. Weak was good. “I thought you’d look more Egyptian,” I told him.

“And how do you think the original Egyptians looked?” Anapa raised his eyebrows. “What do you know of us? Were you there at the birth of the glory that was Egypt? Were you there to watch as we mixed with Nubians, Hittites, Libyans, Assyrians, Persians, and Greeks, you dumb little puppy? Colors, pigments, texture of skin and hair, those things are mere glaze. The vessel underneath is always clay.”

This was above my pay grade. “Roman?”

“He might be a nut job,” Roman said. “If he’s telling the truth, he isn’t at full strength.”

Anapa sighed. “So tiresome. Very well.”

Wind swept through the office, streaming from behind Anapa—hot, heavy with moisture, streaked with decay, the odor of spiced wine, and heady aromas of resins. The flames
bent away from Anapa. A jackal howled, a long eerie wail that gripped my throat in a ghostly fist and squeezed.

The man on the chair leaned forward. A translucent outline shimmered along his skin, expanded, and a different creature sat in Anapa’s place. He was tall, long-limbed, and lean. A network of muscle bound his torso, crisply defined, but far from bulky. His skin was a warm, rich brown with a touch of terra-cotta. His face with its wide brown eyes was beautiful, but it wasn’t the kind of beauty you wanted to touch—it radiated too much power, too much regal disdain. As he looked at us, the contours of his head flowed like molten wax. His nose and jaw protruded forward and narrowed to a dark nose. Two long ears thrust up. Black and gray fur sheathed his face. The flash of white fangs in his mouth was like lightning.

Magic streamed from him, potent, powerful, overwhelming.

He rose from the chair, an impossibility, a man with a human torso and a jackal head. Outside, the two Ammit roared in unison. The press of his magic was impossible to bear.

The illusion shattered. I realized I had forgotten to breathe and sucked in air in a hoarse gulp.

Anapa smiled at me, sitting in his chair again, languid and mildly amused. “Now, that we have that settled, let’s talk. I have a bone to pick with you. All three of you, as a matter of fact.”

Raphael took a step forward. “I will reimburse you for the beast.”

“The one you killed?” Anapa’s animated face turned puzzled. “Oh, there was no need. I resurrected her the moment the magic wave appeared. I did very much enjoy your battle. A stunning display of strategic thinking.” He looked at me and then at Raphael. “You and you, you work well together.” He turned to Raphael. “Except at the end when both of you went a little mad.”

A muscle jerked in Raphael’s face.

“Don’t worry.” Anapa wrinkled his nose. “Happens to the best of us.”

Raphael took a step forward. I put my hand on his forearm.

Anapa rubbed his hands together. “Now we’ll have ourselves a bit of show-and-tell, shall we?”

The floor of the office between him and us turned lighter. Stylized figures formed on its surface.

“Neat, isn’t it?” Anapa grinned. “I got an idea from an old movie. So, listen and watch. Please feel free to sit down if you wish.”

Brown figures came down from the hills toward the blue river.

“That would be the ancient Egyptian cattle herders. The climate changed, and all of their grass fields are drying out, so they have to go back to the Nile. Look at them, they are so sad.”

The figures fell to their knees and started drinking from the Nile. On the other side a second group of figures started throwing rocks at the newcomers.

“Those are the people who had remained in the valley. They don’t want the poor cattle herders there. See, they are all upset.”

One of the figures held up a crooked staff.

A huge triangular head broke the surface of the water. An enormous brown and yellow snake slithered out of the Nile and began to feed on the newcomers.

Anapa leaned forward. “That would Apep. The God of the River. These guys, the ones who stayed in the valley, they worshipped him, so he wouldn’t eat them. He is a nasty bugger.”

The dismembered bodies of the ancient Egyptians fell in the water.

“But what’s this?”

Four figures appeared, shaking swords and spears. One had a hawk head, the second had a cat’s head, the third a jackal’s, and the fourth seemed to be a bizarre cross between a donkey and aardvark.

“That would be Ra, his daughter Bast, me, and Set.”

“I know that myth,” Roman said. “It was Ra who killed him.”

Anapa looked at him in mild outrage. “I’m sorry, were you there? No. Then hush. Of course, myths say that Ra killed him. That’s what you get when you’re a sun god and crops depend on you, my friend. Look, I’ll prove it to you.” An ancient mural appeared on the wall, showing a yellow spotted
cat resembling a mountain cat stabbing a snake with a curved blade. “Supposedly this is Ra slaying Apep. Small problem: Ra has a hawk’s head on his shoulders. He doesn’t turn into a cat, except for this one time. Keep that in mind. Now where were we?”