Enslaved (The Inbetween Novels) (36 page)

Shayla squatted down. “She looks familiar. Where are we?”

Deryck joined her. He produced a flashlight from the bag and aimed it at the wall. “We’re near Qift. This is the temple my father held with Isis.”

“Leave it to me to only recognize the most famous Egyptian goddess there is.” She wished she could remember more about Deryck’s people. It would make meeting his father a lot easier. Most people didn’t have to worry about offending someone capable of extinguishing their existence by snapping when they were taken home to meet their significant other’s parents. Of course, she wasn’t exactly dating Deryck . . . yet.

“There are a lot of gods and goddesses in the pantheon. I don’t expect anyone to be able to keep track of all of them.” Deryck tapped the male figure beside Isis. “That is Min. Worshippers in this region thought they were lovers.”

“I thought Isis was with Osiris.”

“As the ages went on, the stories changed to fit what each set of believers wanted to worship. Here, Min ruled with Isis. Elsewhere, Isis and Osiris were in charge. After a while, you stop keeping track of the stories and save yourself the confusion. Incest and infidelity were big during the height of the religion. Good thing, I guess, otherwise I wouldn’t be here. Fertility gods are allergic to monogamy.”

“And their offspring?” Shayla smiled, hoping he knew she was teasing him.

“Old dogs can learn new tricks.” Deryck grinned and nodded toward the far end of the wall. “The entrance should be down there.”

Using the light of the full moon instead of the flashlight Deryck offered, Shayla followed the wall to the end. A doorway sat right before the corner. The section of wall was mostly intact, reaching far over their heads. She eyeballed it warily, wondering if it would be safe to walk under the ancient bricks. Trusting his judgment, she took a step closer.

Deryck caught her arm. “We can’t go in yet. I’m sorry about this . . . .” He set the duffle bag down and pulled out a gallon of water. It wasn’t drinking water, even in the dim light she saw how cloudy it was, like river water. Deryck popped the plastic lid off and dumped the cool water over her head.

Shayla shrieked. “Hey!”

Deryck set aside the empty bottle and pulled another out, pouring the second over his head.
Damn, he looks good sopping wet. I probably look like a drowned hippo.

“What was that for?” She leaned over and rung out her hair, hating how it stuck to her neck.

“Only cleansed priests may enter the temple and perform rituals. The water not only cleanses, it brings us closer to the elements—water is sacred. Water from the Nile, doubly so.”

“You could have warned me.”

“Then you wouldn’t be wearing a white t-shirt.” He openly stared at her chest.

Shayla crossed her arms over her chest, covering her bra. She gave him a playful glare and walked into the temple, leaving him to grab the empty bottles and the bag of supplies. Deryck jogged to catch up with her; the flashlight in his hand bobbed, catching random portions of faded glyphs in its light.

The ceiling had crumbled long ago. Displaced bricks were scattered over the floor, and Shayla was thankful for both the moonlight and the flashlight—stubbing a toe on one of those would seriously hurt. The room was large, nearly the size of her entire house, minus the back yard.

“Follow the length of the building. The further we go, the easier it will be to contact Min.”

Side by side, they walked through the maze of loose mud bricks, falling walls, and doorways. If she had to find the way out by herself, she’d likely get lost. Several of the doors led to false rooms—set in the temple in order to confuse anyone seeking to steal from the gods, she assumed. Deryck led her away from the wrong path and set her right again a few times.

She wasn’t sure how far they went, but eventually they came to a room with a portion of its ceiling intact. It was small in comparison with the first room of the temple—the size of her bedroom and bathroom combined. At the far end of the room was a huge cubbyhole set into the wall. It had to be about ten feet tall. Small bricks lined the opening, their surfaces covered in glyphs far better preserved than anything else she’d seen in the temple. Shayla traced a small lightning bolt cut into the brick.

“Min and Isis stood there once. They were taken when the temple was unearthed over a century ago.” Deryck joined her.

“The real gods?”

He shook his head. “Idols of the gods were treated as the people would treat the gods themselves. The statues were bathed, oiled, and had makeup applied to their faces.”

“So your gods are spoiled rotten.”

“And act like it, too. Remember that when you summon Min. Once he is here, I cannot interfere. We are forbidden to speak to the gods of any pantheon, even our own.”

“There are so many rules to remember.” Shayla rubbed her forehead, wondering if she’d made the right decision. What if she failed?

Deryck kissed the top of her head and squeezed her shoulder. “You can do it, Shayla. I know you can.”

“Remember you said that when you’re scrubbing my smited remains off the floor,” she muttered under her breath. His faith in her ability to face a god was intimidating.

Deryck cleared rubble off a large stack of mud bricks and set the duffle bag on top. He unzipped the bag. She had a hard time believing how much he’d crammed into it and watched him pull out yet another bottle of Nile water, a large wooden goblet—unadorned, save for the image of Min painted in gold—he set a silver-handled knife beside these, along with a head of long-leaf lettuce.

“Lettuce? Am I going to make him a salad when he gets here?”

“Min is the god of lettuce. Of the ritual options I found, it was either lettuce or an orgy. He can’t resist either of them.”

Shayla blinked. “Lettuce it is. I don’t want to watch anyone having sex, least of all your father.”

A strange look passed over his face. “About that, Min isn’t very fond of clothing. No one was during the height of his popularity. Clothes were a burden in a land where you could bake a goat by leaving it covered in hot sand for the day.”

“Thank you. Now when I see your father naked, I will think of roasted goat.”

Deryck handed Shayla the lettuce and a piece of papyrus paper with the summoning ritual written on it. “Are you sure you’re okay to do this?”

She offered him a weak smile. “Of course I am. I don’t have to bleed to death to meet your father.”

Deryck stepped behind the stack of stones he’d used as a makeshift table. He couldn’t make himself go any further in case Shayla needed his help. How he could possibly help without incurring the wrath of Min, he didn’t know, but he’d find some way. She wouldn’t be left to fend for herself, not this time. It was a miracle she agreed to come at all after the way Herryk treated her during his failed attempt to break his bonds. Deryck’s hands fisted. He wasn’t sure who he hated more—his father for the way his mother had been coerced into carrying a child never meant for her world, or Herryk for the abuses he heaped on Shayla. He forced himself to take a breath. If his anger got the best of him, he’d end up dead by Min’s hands and Shayla would be stuck in a foreign country with no way to get home.

She tilted the paper, using the moonlight to read. “Min, Lord of Processions, God of the High Plumes . . . .”

He watched her read, pronouncing each foreign-to-her word carefully. Shayla raised the head of lettuce and gave it an amused look, but she continued to read the summoning spell. Power swelled around them. Dust and pebbles swirled around her feet. Shayla paused, squinting at the paper. She shook her head, clamped the papyrus between her teeth, and crouched down to grab the bottle of Nile water. Deryck cocked a brow at her answer to her not-enough-hands problem. Water cascaded over the green lettuce leaves and dribbled down her arm to drip off her elbow. Shayla patted her free hand dry on the seat of her pants before grabbing the paper and resuming the reading. Deryck couldn’t help but smile at the awkward grace with which she tackled pressing issues.

Inside the cutout in the wall to his left—the
naos
where Min’s and Isis’s statues once stood—a portal to the God’s Lands began its formation. It spun slowly, mists the color of the Nile after a heavy rain grew to the size of a man. Streaks of lightning cut through the murky waters connecting the two realms.

Shayla stepped closer to the
naos
, the offering of cleansed lettuce held before her like a shield. Her arms trembled. The last word of the summoning spell crossed her lips on a whisper. Deryck wished he could go to her, offer her his support. He crossed his arms over his chest and fought the urge to hold her and shelter her from what was to come.

The portal expanded, filled the entirety of the
naos
. Min stepped through, his bare feet passing over the broken bricks covering the ground in front of him. His skin was the color of the riverbank after the Nile flooded—dark brown, nearly black. He wore a crown with two intricately carved ivory feathers atop, reaching a foot and a half high. A scarlet ribbon held the crown in place. The tail of the ribbon trailed behind Min like a pet snake. As he’d expected, Min was virtually nude. He wore a red leather harness over his chest and his
shendyt
was belted in place with the front open to expose his rigid manhood.

Modesty, thy name is not, Min.

To her credit, Shayla did not back away from Min when faced with his preferred state of dress. Her eyes dropped down once and bounced back to the god’s face. In the moonlight, it was difficult to see the blush creeping up her cheeks, but Deryck caught it.

Min raked her with a long, appraising look. “Why have I been summoned?”

You know damn well why, cocksucker.
Deryck ground his shoe against the floor. Min wouldn’t acknowledge the wishes of his half-breed offspring. Shayla had to ask, beg, or barter in order for him to partake in the ritual. Summoning him was not enough. Deryck hoped her quick wit would not fail her.

“I don’t know how to phrase this formally, so here goes; I want to free Deryck from his service as an incubus and we need your blood to do it.” Shayla bit her lip and cast a look toward Deryck. He smiled at her, despite the erratic pounding of his heart.

“You are aware of who you are addressing, yes?” Min shook his head. “I do not think it is in my best interest to rob the universe of someone who performs a vital task in assuring the happiness of human females. They are, after all, the richest source of power and belief.”

Shayla gaped at the god. She snapped her jaw shut and shook the wet lettuce at him. “I did your damn lettuce voodoo, said the words as best as I could, now you’re telling me it was all so you could turn me down to my face?”

“Rejections are best done in person, yes.”

“Bullshit.” To Deryck’s shock, she threw the offering at Min. It slapped against his chest and he caught the lettuce. “You knew what I wanted long before I made it into this room; you’re a god, they know everything, right? I’m not going to let you treat Deryck like a slave because you were incapable of sticking to screwing other gods and wanted a taste of human loving. He is the way he is because of you. Honestly, you have to be one of the worst fathers in the universe if you are pleased to see him used, abused, and left without the chance to experience love in any true form. He isn’t an object to be used in whatever games you gods enjoy. He lives. He breathes. Most importantly, he feels. I know he does, he’s shown me the kindness and care he is capable of. I wish you felt what I went through the moment I realized my son would have to go through what he is. Worse yet, I know Eros won’t ever release him and it makes me sick. You have to be better than him, you just have to. Otherwise, I’ll be left thinking that the gods are a bunch of jackasses who couldn’t care less about the humans whose belief keeps them alive and rolling in bathtubs made of gold, or whatever it is you guys do at home.”