Anubis Nights (2 page)

Christian seemed calmer now. “So what happens now?”

“If you can’t forgive her, you’ll be stuck here as a ghost, and that’s not much fun.”

Esther shook her head. “Not much fun at all.”

“If I were you, I’d go see your dad, then search your heart, forgive your mother, and accept the pull when it takes you to the next realm.”

“Heaven?”

“Sorry, man, I don’t know. I’ve never seen heaven. When I died, I saw the Underworld.”

“You died?”

I nodded. “Yeah, but only for a minute.”

“Thanks for helping me. Sorry about the bat.” He looked at Esther. “You wanna come with me to see my dad? I can show you how to move stuff.”

“I can’t,” Esther said.

“Yeah, I guess it’s something I should do on my own.”

Esther actually meant she literally couldn’t go because Harry didn’t have a piece of her typewriter. Before she could say anything else, Christian disappeared.

“Bunch of horsefeathers,” she said. “I wanted to learn to do stuff!”

“Another time.” I pulled out my cell phone, called Patrick O’Malley, and told him to come by if he wanted to arrest a murderer.

“You think going back in time for a do-over is a good thing?” Esther asked me. “I mean, if you could.”

Esther didn’t know about my experience in that area, though looking at her, it seemed as if she did know, and that was a bit unsettling. I hadn’t even told Kelly about that. “What would I do over?” I asked. “Everything is cool. No need to change that.”

“I suppose you’re right,” she said.

CHAPTER TWO

FROM THE JOURNAL OF KELLY CHAN

It’s been two months since a destroyer ripped me apart and left me for dead. Every night, I wake up three or four times and grab my chest. I find myself gasping for breath in those moments, and I’m thankful Brand is still giving me the space I need and that he was cool when I said I needed a break from the relationship. I insisted that he stay at his own apartment. I don’t want him to know I’m having nightmares. I don’t want him to know I wake up with night sweats. I don’t want him to know I’m not the warrior I was before that incident. Neither is he, of course. He gave up everything he was to save me, and ungrateful bitch that I am, I broke up with him. He gave everything but it wasn’t enough.

A normal person would have died from that attack, of course, so being a magically engineered assassin does have its benefits. I was lucky because I didn’t feel pain.

Past tense on that one, though I think the pain is psychosomatic. I hope it is, anyway.

I’m not supposed to feel pain. The pain receptors in my body were shut off when I turned eighteen. I was trained as a Sekutar for ten years before they decided warriors who can’t feel pain are preferable to those who can. They, of course, are the assholes at Dragon Gate Industries. God, I hate wizards.

Confession time. Every night when I wake up from the nightmares, I feel the pain of being ripped apart—something I did not feel at the time. That part is something I can deal with, actually. What pisses me off is that the people at DGI kept telling me there was nothing I could do and that it wasn’t my fault.

The truth is that I did everything I could do, and I wasn’t looking to assign blame. It just bothered me that they thought I should see myself as not having control over my own reactions to what happened.

They seemed to think I saw myself as helpless . . . or worse, a victim.

Wow, it’s hard to even write the word
victim.

Victim. Victim. Victim.

That word is not supposed to apply to me. Those I face are the victims. Not me.

Victim.

The word tastes foul in my mouth.

I may not be completely back to normal yet, but I am not a victim. I lost a fight. It happens. Granted, it’s not supposed to happen to me, but no matter how good you are, you run the risk of facing someone better or someone luckier or, in my case, some kind of animal never before seen on Earth.

Recovery is slow, but I
am
recovering.

***

I’m not ready.

Not being ready could mean my friends will all die.

That is not an option.

Okay.

Today sucked ass.

I went to the dojo, and my plan was to work out, but I was still so stiff, I tensed up when I tried to twist my body. Before the destroyer, I could bend at the waist and place my palms on the floor without bothering to stretch first. I could move from that position into a handstand and walk on my hands for miles if I so desired.

This morning I bent over, and my fingertips barely brushed the floor.

After the destroyer tore me apart, Jonathan called his healer friend Lina, who recommended another healer named Ophelia because we were in Boulder at the time. Ophelia saved my life with Brand’s help. Brand loved me. Loves me. He gave up being a Sekutar so I could survive. I felt I owed it to him to be the best Sekutar I could.

I’m still a Sekutar. I’m still a warrior. However, while the healers and the wizards at DGI all said I’m back to one hundred percent, I know I’m far from that. I know as long as I face a regular fighter, I’m fine. The problem is that Jonathan won’t need me to face a regular threat. I’m needed only for extraordinary threats. And I’m not sure I’m up to that yet. It’s been two months! I should be ready. I should have been ready in a matter of days.

That makes me wonder. Is this all I’ll ever be? Or is it my own doubt that’s holding me back?

I think I’m going to burn this journal. Jonathan insists I write in it, and I know he’s right because I haven’t been the same since that attack. In some ways I feel this journal is my enemy, but my way with an enemy is to face it down and destroy it.

Hence the burning.

Or maybe I should just rip it to pieces.

Then burn the pieces and scatter them to the winds.

Damn it.

Jonathan is right.

Write it down.

Start with this morning? Or go back to that healing room at DGI two months ago?

I can’t think straight. Not true. I can think straight. I just don’t want to face the truth.

TWO MONTHS AGO

I woke to see a woman I didn’t recognize sitting beside my bed. She gave me a tired smile and took hold of my hand. I tried to speak but couldn’t. The last thing I remembered was some strange animal that moved so fast, I couldn’t adjust. I knew I needed to protect Rayna, so I faced the beast, but it had claws like swords, and for the first time since I was a preteen, I felt actual fear. I remembered feeling those claws rip through my flesh. While I didn’t feel the pain, I remember falling backward and thinking,
I failed,
and that is a different kind of pain—one that refused to go away.

“Hello, Kelly,” the woman said to me, her voice soft and full of exhaustion. “My name is Ophelia. You’re in an operating room at Dragon Gate Industries. You’ve been severely injured.”

I managed a nod. I looked over at her and felt fear flowing through my veins. I wasn’t supposed to feel fear. It was an alien concept. Something that was left behind in my childhood when I was a regular little girl. I blinked a few times, relieved that I wasn’t crying, though I wanted to. I felt ashamed. That wasn’t the way of a warrior.

“It’s bad,” Ophelia said. “Really bad.”

I searched for my voice. “Tell me.”

“We’ve done everything we can. We’ll keep trying, of course, but your body has been through so much trauma that even magic can’t quite get the job done.”

“No. Tell me. Is Rayna alive or dead?” I needed to know if I’d delayed the beast long enough for her to get to safety. It was my job to protect her, and I needed to know if I’d failed her.

“She’s alive and well.”

The relief was instant. “And everyone else?”

“Your friends are all fine. They’re outside waiting to see you, but you need to rest for now.”

“Okay. You were going to tell me about my condition.”

“That can wait.”

“I want to know now.”

Ophelia nodded. “Very well. You’ll find limited mobility, but you will survive. I think you’ll be able to walk, but even that remains uncertain. On the positive side, we’re pretty sure the scars will fade over the next six months or so.”

I didn’t care about scars.

What I heard was that she didn’t know if I’d be able to walk again.

“I’ll walk,” I said.

“That’s the right attitude,” Ophelia said. “Rest now, Kelly. I’ll let your friends know you’re going to make it.”

I nodded, closed my eyes, and drifted away.

A week later they told me I was a hundred percent.

They were wrong.

***

I have to face the truth.

Surely everyone can see I’m not myself.

Okay, so this morning, I tried to work out. I tried to stretch. I felt so tight, I thought I might snap when I leaned forward. At least I could walk. I was right about that part. When I was with Jonathan or Brand in the afternoons, I could focus and spar with them, but I always paid a price later. My body stiffened up at night, and each morning, it was more difficult to get out of bed and get moving.

That morning, I decided to work out with swords. I took one from my weapons cabinet, clutched the handle, and gave it a quick swing. It felt good. I whipped it around, and the damn thing flew out of my hand, hit the wall, and clattered on the floor.

Through the window of the dojo, I saw Jonathan pull up in his Firebird. I reached down, picked up the sword, and felt something give in my chest. I rubbed the muscles beneath my collarbone. The pain had to be in my mind. I let the sword tip drop to the floor then leaned forward while I kept rubbing my muscles. For a moment I felt as if I would fall over, but leaning on the sword, I managed to keep my feet.

Esther popped into view. “Hey, Kelly.” Her eyes filled with concern. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine, Esther.”

“You’re massaging—“

“I know what I’m doing!”

“Jeez. You don’t have to turn into a bearcat.”

Jonathan entered the dojo and—

JONATHAN SHADE

The morning after dealing with the ghost of Christian Harris, Esther and I went over to Kelly’s dojo to see how my favorite Sekutar was doing. Esther popped out of my car to go ahead of me. The dojo was in a little strip mall, but it was still early, so the various shops weren’t open yet and there was plenty of parking. I pulled into a spot near Kelly’s door and went inside. It couldn’t have taken more than thirty seconds, but by the time I got there, Esther was already indignant about something.

“—into a bearcat,” Esther said and popped away to who knows where.

Kelly shook her head and leaned on a sword, the tip cutting into the floor. She straightened when she saw me, and her face went from irritated to passive in two heartbeats. I put two and two together and didn’t come up with four, so I thought it best to give her some extra leeway. She put up a good front, but I knew she was still trying to recover from her injuries. If she wanted to pretend everything was fine, I was cool with that, but I knew I needed to keep a vigilant eye on things. I gave her a smile.

“Good morning,” I said. “Esther’s in one of her moods today. Not having a cup of coffee in more than eighty years will do that to you.”

Kelly pulled the sword free of the floor and placed her foot over the cut as if I wouldn’t see it. The dojo looked cleaner than usual; the tatami mats on the floor were perfectly arranged, and the floor-to-ceiling mirrors that lined one wall were spotless. “What brings you in so early?” she asked.

“I’m right on time, Kelly. Did you forget we were going to breakfast?”

She leaned her head back. “That’s right. Slipped my mind.”

“No big.”

The door opened behind me, and I turned to see Sharon standing in the entrance. The last time I’d spoken with her, she’d promised to come help deal with Persephone. Yes, that Persephone. Ruler of the Underworld and the whole nine. Sharon didn’t show up, and let’s just say the aftermath was not pleasant. The price I paid to set things right after that bloodbath still weighed on me. Sharon’s betrayal still cut deep into my soul, and I swore the next time I saw her, I’d kill her.

“Hello, Jonathan,” Sharon said.

I reached for my Glock and yanked it from the shoulder holster, but before I could aim and fire, Sharon darted over and grabbed my arm. I tried to pull free, but she was too strong.

“What’s going on here?” Kelly asked. She didn’t know about the betrayal.

As for Sharon, she looks like your standard librarian, hot in a bookish way, clad in a smart blue skirt and a white blouse with her hair pinned back, though she didn’t wear glasses. Looks were deceiving here because in reality, Sharon was Charon. Yes, you could say Charon was a cross dresser, but he’d literally changed his sex. While he—or rather, she—no longer ferried souls across the Acheron—that job belonged to a guy named Bob these days—Charon was still immortal and incredibly powerful.

I doubt the bullets would have had any effect, but I didn’t get a chance to find out.

“Fuck you,” I said with as much venom as I could put into the words.

“Jonathan!” Kelly said.

“Still upset?” Sharon asked as she pried the gun from my hand.

I tried to kick her, but she simply tossed me across the dojo. I hit hard on the practice mats and rolled right into Kelly, who fortunately raised the sword so I didn’t get cut. I couldn’t believe it when Kelly fell down. The sword hit the mat a few feet away. It had been two months since Kelly’s injuries, and with all the magical assistance, she should have been closer to her old self. I forgot all about Sharon while I stared at Kelly on the floor.

“You clumsy oaf,” she said.

“Yeah,” I said and pushed myself to my feet.

Kelly remained seated on the floor.

“You getting up?” I asked.

“In a minute.”

“You need help?”