Recreated (23 page)

We continued on all afternoon, the benu bird leading us. When he picked up speed, so did we. As we ran, I had another change in my body to ponder. I marveled at my new level of endurance, the deep inhales and exhales as my legs and arms pumped in a steady rhythm that felt at once foreign and natural. I began to second-guess myself. Each thing I did that was out of the norm for me, or that I knew was impossible for a human to do, made me face the fact that I wasn't human anymore, and the thought was uncomfortable enough to make me push my fears to the back of my mind, which was much easier to do when I ran.

Tia seemed much more accepting of our new status. She was a lioness and then she wasn't. She embraced new discoveries like kissing a gorgeous man or luxuriating in a warm bath with wild abandon and passion. The differences in her new form didn't cause her alarm so much as curiosity, and when I made a comment about it, she found my worrying over what was already done irrational.

As we ran, my thoughts quieted. Hurtling over fallen tree trunks and large rocks with the ease of an Amazon, we passed through the forest and crossed a wide grassy plain, then climbed a hilly path dotted with animals that resembled a cross between a goat and a bear. The animals merely lifted their heads as we sped by and then went back to grazing.

I gasped when we came to the other side of the hills. What stretched before us was an indigo sea. Using my powerful new eyes, I gazed out at the wide expanse of water and wondered if this was the same ocean we'd passed over when riding Nebu. The colors were surely dissimilar.

The city of Heliopolis was full of golden light and twinkling buildings but this side of Duat was the opposite. The mountains were gray. The landscape dull and muted. The trees and bushes were dark shadows against the gloomy terrain. Even though the sun was out over the water, there was no warmth, no sparkling waves.

“What is this place?” I asked Tia.

I do not know. But I scent death.

Shivering, I rubbed my arms as a spine-chilling breeze lifted the fine hairs on the back of my neck. The tickle of winter encircled me and I got the impression that I was surrounded by all things decayed and petrified, hidden just beneath an icy layer that I couldn't see past.

We followed the benu bird to the water's edge, where a rickety dock stretched forth its leprous arm into the sea. Next to it sat a thatched bungalow made of rotting beach wood. It might have been painted once. At least I hoped the dried red flecks, which resembled dead, thorny blooms, peeling from the sides of the home, were paint. But if it had been once, it was now so weathered it was barely noticeable.

There was an air of abandon to the building, as if the only thing that might choose to reside in such a place would be a ghostly sailor who haunted the beach looking for victims to drown in the murky waters. But then there was a gorgeous boat, looking as out of place as an NYC socialite at a hillbilly competition.

Like a sleek show dog bound to a homeless man's cart, the vessel sat poised and unmoving, its mast rising high as if it looked to the heavens for rescue. It was tied securely to the dock, which didn't assure the boat's safety so much as the dock's, and I hoped its presence meant that someone likely did live here, or at least visited once in a while.

The vessel's gleaming ebony paint shone in the weak light of the setting sun. A pair of intricately carved oars rested against the hull, and the sturdy mast with a thick sail was bound with tight ropes as well. At the bow of the ship was a carved figurehead of a bird, which looked suspiciously similar to the benu bird, which was now perched atop the broken dock post.

The bird stared down at me expectantly, as if it was waiting for me to do something. It danced on the top of the post, ruffling its feathers as it softly sang for me. One of its feathers brushed against my arm and warmth seeped into my skin briefly before it was lifted away once again.

When the bird's song ended, the pieced together door of the hut swung inward, revealing an interior so dark, I could make out nothing inside, even with my enhanced eyesight. It swung shut again with a reverberating bang.

“You…you want me to go in?” I asked the bird.

The bird answered me by flying to the falling-down shack and perching on the roof.

“I guess you do,” I said. “Okay, then. Here we go.”

I knocked on the door that clung to the side of the home on broken hinges. It hung at such a slant it couldn't even close properly. As my knuckles rapped against it a second time, it swung drunkenly, giving me glimpses of the dark space within. When nobody answered, I shrugged and pulled open the door. It didn't squeak so much as groan with debilitating pain as it hung open and stayed exactly where I left it.

“Hello?” I called out, my voice echoing in the space. The dying sunlight cast long lines of pale light through the gaps in the boards of the house, the gloomy streaks making it appear to be more of a prison cell than a home. “My name's Lily,” I announced in the space as I took a tiny hesitant step inside. “Is anyone here?”

There was a rustle to my right. It sounded like shifting paper or perhaps the scattering of a nest of vermin. A dark shape disentangled itself from an even darker corner of the squalid home, and I heard the rumble of a deep voice.

“What do ya want?” the voice demanded, the question followed by a toxic-sounding round of phlegmy coughing and a snort.

“Horus sent me,” I responded quietly, the tone of my voice rising at the end as if I'd been asking a question instead of making a statement.

The coughing escalated, and the person hidden in the darkness finally stopped and spat. Glistening yellowish pus landed on the sandy, warped boards by my feet. I moved a step back into the frame of the door, suddenly ready to bolt.

A scraping noise indicated the figure was moving closer. “Horus?” the voice questioned suspiciously. “What do I care for him?”

“Isn't he your master?”

“My master?” The person started cackling, which soon turned into coughing again. More shuffling, and then I heard the jingling of a box. A tiny flame burst into life, growing larger as a lamp was lit. The person in the shack lifted the gas lamp and turned toward me.

Seeing it was a man and not a monster should have offered me a semblance of calm, but instead, I grew more nervous. He was hunchbacked, and though his frame was thick with flesh, his cheeks were hollow, haggard, and his feverish gray eyes were as leeched of color as the boards of his home. Thick blue veins stood out on his heavy arms. Large lips protruded from a wiry black beard that was so unkempt and long, I wondered what creatures might be nesting in its depths.

“Ya woke me from my sleep,” the man accused as he stared at me with heavy brows low enough to impede his vision. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket that was so filthy the only good thing to do with it would be to burn it. I stared speechless as he lifted it to his hooked nose and snorted loudly enough to rattle the floorboards. He must have noticed the grimace on my face because the next thing he said was, “Get out!”

My hands tightened into fists. “No,” I answered, and lifted my chin defiantly. “I need to get to the afterlife, and apparently you have something to do with that.”

The man took a few steps closer and stared down at me from an imposing height. He was much bigger than he'd originally looked. “I don't ferry the living, girlie.” His pungent breath washed over my face, and even though I felt slightly nauseated, I wasn't going to back down.

“You will this time,” I replied as confidently as I could.

He tilted his head, considering me, then turned around and busied himself at a table. I heard the sound of liquid sloshing into a cup and the man took a deep draught. With his back turned, he said, “It's a one-way trip on the barque of the sun and it's not safe, even for those with nothing to lose.”

“I don't care. I've come this far and I need to keep going.”

Refilling his cup, he glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. “Did ya bring an obol?”

“An obol?” I echoed.

“An
obol.
” He sighed. “An offering?” He stared at me expectantly, his heavy brows drawing together, and then his shoulders fell and he moved back into the darkness. “I'm not taking ya anywhere without my obol.”

An object fell to the floor at my feet. It rolled around in circles before stopping. The glint of gold shone in the darkness. The man froze as I leaned down to pick it up. It was a golden coin stamped with the image of the benu bird I'd seen carved on the boat and on the tile of the tub in Amun-Ra's home.

“Will this do?” I asked, and tossed it in his direction, still unwilling to step out of the bright light of the doorway and into the dark space of his home.

Though he didn't seem agile enough, the man stretched out his bulbous, vein-covered hand and snatched the coin out of the air. He looked at it, turning it over carefully, and then his eyes darted over to me. “Who
are
ya?” he asked suspiciously.

“I told you. I'm Lily.”

He frowned. “I don't mean yer name. You need to tell me who ya are.”

“Well, I'm a mortal, a human, or I was once. Now I'm a sphinx. Horus has arranged for me to meet you so that I might travel to the afterlife. My boyfriend, Amon, is one of the Sons of Egypt, and he's stuck in the netherworld. I need to save him so Seth doesn't break free of his bonds and rain chaos down on Earth. Does that suffice?”

The man blinked. Once. Twice. Then he spat another gob of mucus at his feet. “A sphinx, is it?” He rubbed the coin between his fingers, studying me, as if trying to figure out if I was speaking the truth. “And when exactly would ya be wanting ta leave, girlie?”

“Immediately.”

He shifted, grunting, and stroked his beard. “Are you sure ya wish ta go?”

“Yes.”

Shuffling closer, the man looked up at the darkening sky. “Then I suppose we'd better make haste. Best you board
Mesektet
immediately. I'll join you shortly. It's going ta be a long night, girlie. Ya have no idea what you're in for, but I accept ur payment.” His brows lowered. “And it's too late ta back out now that I've accepted the job,” he warned. “Yer just lucky this obol is of such high value. Otherwise I wouldn't even consider takin' a kicker at all, let alone one so late in the day.”

“A kicker?”

“A living soul. A lion/girl like you who's still alive and kicking. Now stop distracting me and get a move on or we'll miss the gate and make this conversation as pointless as a dead man begging ta live.”

“Right.”

Spinning, I headed outside and glanced up at the house to see the benu bird singing a final mournful tune before he flapped his wings and headed back to Heliopolis. The sun was nearly down. Only a sliver of it still remained above the water. I'd just climbed on board and found a place near the back of the boat that looked secure enough that I wouldn't simply fall overboard, when the large man stomped down the dock.

Our boatman released the knot securing the boat and as we began moving away from the dock, I noticed a carving in the wooden post.

“It's the sunrise,” I murmured. “Dr. Hassan said to watch out for it. It leads to life.”

“Close,” the man said as he plucked an oar from it fastenings and threaded it through the oarlock. “That image has a dual meaning. In this case, it's the sunset, not the sunrise.”

Where does the sunset lead?
Tia asked.

Dread filled my frame as I clung helplessly to the ropes of the ship. “The sunset,” I said, “leads to death.”

“Now,” he warned as he unfurled the sail, which immediately caught the wind and billowed out, “best hold on for yer life.” He stopped what he was doing and let out a wry chuckle. “It's not very often I get ta say that.”

The wind picked up and the boat bounced over waves, which were rougher with each passing second. Angling the boat toward the setting sun, we raced ahead faster and faster, chasing the dying orb as it sank below the sea. Within moments the only thing I could make out was the large man on the tiller just behind me. My stomach lurched as gravity shifted. I felt like I was on a terrifying roller coaster that had just left the tracks.

Seeing through the darkness was something I had begun to take for granted after inheriting Tia's powers. But I wasn't able to see the white of my clothing and, that disturbed both of us.

“What's happening?” I cried out as a large wave crashed over the edge of the boat.

“This area's choppy, girlie,” my peculiar companion hollered. “Best hold tight for the transition!”

“What transition? What do you mean?”

He didn't answer, and as the ship lurched upward and then fell with a heavy crash into the sea, I decided I needed to hold on to something more substantial than a rope. Stumbling to my feet, I shuffled closer to the boat captain and grabbed the rail of the ship, wrapping my arms around it and locking onto my wrists. It was a good thing I did because as we crested the next wave, the ship became momentarily airborne and my legs lifted out from under me as we dropped down once again. My body bashed against the deck with a painful blow.

“One more wave oughta do it!” he cried, and I braced myself as the ship angled up the next swell. A dark wall of water rose before us and gravity shifted again. We climbed higher and higher, and I knew once we crested the wave, we'd fall to our deaths. There was no way we wouldn't sink. It wasn't possible. We'd either flip over backward or break into a million pieces on the other side.

“Hold on!” he shouted. “Here it comes!”

Up and up the boat climbed until it was nearly vertical on the column of water. I wasn't sure how my companion had been able to remain standing. Surely he wasn't strong enough to hold up his own bulk. Freezing water sprayed us from every side. Even with the power of the sphinx, I knew my arms couldn't hold out much longer.

Tia was terrified. Death by drowning was not the way a cat should die. Of course, a human-turned-sphinx on a mission to save her mummy boyfriend shouldn't die that way either. Tia's fear echoed my own, reverberating through my body as we clutched the railing desperately.

Just when I was ready to give up, to let go and allow my body to be swept away, I heard a triumphant cry and the shaking of the boat eased, pale light washing over us. Slowly the craft realigned itself, and when I was at last able to unlock my trembling arms from the rim of the boat, I cautiously looked for the source of the light.

We were encompassed by stars. Heavenly bodies so bright and close I felt like I could reach up and catch them. I'd never seen so many. When I looked over the side, I was shocked to find the rocky ocean gone, and stars beneath us as well. They shifted and moved in a pattern that looked almost fluid.

In wonder, I asked, “Where are we?” I stretched my hand down and felt the tickle of the sparkling substance below. It was cold but not freezing, and when I lifted my hand, a pattern of lights ran over my fingertips before dripping off my skin and rejoining the starlit stream beneath us.

“The Cosmic River,” the large man behind me answered. “In your world it's called the Way of Milk or some such rubbish.”

“The Way of Milk? Do you mean the Milky Way?” I stared out at the expanse around us, marveling at the colors swirling among the stars and the ink of the sky.

“Yeah. That sounds 'bout right,” he said. “We're lucky we made it, seeing as how we left so late and all. Wasn't sure a kicker like you would survive the transition. O' course, we still have a ways to go. You could die at any time.” He almost sounded happy at the prospect.

“Well, we didn't. Lucky for you, I suppose. You get to keep your payment.”

“Get to keep my payment whether I ferry you alive or dead. Makes no difference to me.”

Something he said triggered a thought. “You're Charon the ferryman, aren't you? And this is the river Styx!” I added excitedly.

He snorted and then hocked a ball of spit over the side of the boat. “Don't know too much, do ya?”

I frowned and folded my arms. “Well, if you're not the ferryman, then who are you?”

“I got no reason to tell you nothing. Not like talkin' with the passengers is a part of my job description.”

“Well, would you be so kind as to at least tell me your name? Please? I'd like to know who to thank for getting me to the afterlife safely.”

“Name's Cherty and this here's my boat
Mesektet.
And just so's we're clear, I didn't decide to take you because
he
wanted me to. Don't need him telling me how to do my job. I reckon I can choose for myself who rides with me and who doesn't. Even if he is my boss.”

“Who tells you how to do your job? Horus?”

“Not Horus. Your bird friend. Amun-Ra.”

“Amun-Ra? You must be mistaken.”

“No mistake. Only one person takes the form of that particular bird and that's Amun-Ra.”

I mumbled, “So Amun-Ra's the benu bird?”

“Haven't seen him in that form for quite some time.”

“Horus said he hasn't appeared in a while. It makes sense, I guess. But why would he guide me as the benu bird instead of as himself? And why would he help me when he explicitly told me he wouldn't?”

Cherty shrugged. “I don't pretend ta understand what motivates gods. They're all too busy arguin' and courtin' and generally makin' a mess outta things. Most of which means extra work for me.”

“So am I the first kicker you've taken across?”

“Not the first.” The boat rocked a bit when we hit a rough section of the Cosmic River, but Cherty deftly adjusted the rudder and we moved past it. “Took a lad once. Heart was near torn from him. He'd lost his lady love and was determined to get her back. I warned him it was foolish. He paid well, though, and I figured it was his life to lose. Still remember the grand music he played while we sailed the night sky. He almost made it back with her, too. Nets got her and then Apep got him soon after. Real shame. Oredes or Oreptos or Orpheass was his name, I think.”

“Orpheus. I've heard that tale.”

“Have you? Not too surprised. Your human world likes their bedtime stories.”

“Is that why you won't admit who you are? You don't like what humans say about you?”

His mouth pursed as his hands tightened on the tiller. “Don't hardly matter none what people say. I know the truth.”

“I was frightened of you at first, you know. I'm not now. It must be lonely and sad doing what you do.”

“Don't forget dangerous,” he added.

“Well, that goes without saying.”

He shrugged. “Needs to be said. What with the odds of you dyin' and all. Reckon you won't be meetin' up with your boyfriend. Least with your scarab jewel, ya know how he's feelin' about ya.” He nodded at the jewel on obvious display. “Most people I take across the river don't even get that much. I hafta listen ta their whinin' and bellyachin' the whole trip. Most days I'm more like a psychiatris' than a grim reaper. They make it seem like I'm the one that causes death when in mos' cases they bring it on themselves.”

We journeyed on in silence for a time, and I was enjoying the gorgeous night view when the breeze suddenly died, the billowing sails gradually falling against the mast. “What's wrong?” I asked.

“We're enterin' Apep's territory. Best be silent, girlie. I'll try my best to get you to the other side of his waters alive, but I make ya no promises.”

Quickly, he took down the sail and deftly bound the length of it against the mast. Positioning himself on a bench between the two long oars, he dipped them into the Cosmic River and we began moving ahead again. Every once in a while, he'd stop, lift the oars, and listen. A few minutes later, I heard a ghostly moan, like the song of a whale and Cherty froze, whispering, “Hand me my river sticks.”

“River Styx?” I mouthed. “Aren't we on it?”

He rolled his eyes and directed my attention to the two sticks with sharpened points. I nodded and handed him the weapons. After tucking them into a gap by the bench, he gestured to the hammer. I gave him that, too, and he set it by his feet. He picked up the sticks and listened carefully, peering into the stars that surrounded us.

I thought I saw a flicker off to the side and I tapped his arm to show him the spot. He fixed his piercing eyes on the section of river I'd indicated but after a moment shook his head. It was a long time before he set the oars into the water again, and we soon moved forward without incident, a breeze picking up a few hours later.

When he settled behind the rudder again, I said, “I would imagine you stay very busy. Aren't there like thousands of people who die every day? If it takes this long to get to the afterlife, how do you get all of it done?”

“Luckily the disembodied take up very little room; as long as a piece of them touches the ship, they go. If it's crowded, the dead hang off the sides by their fingertips. Sad thing is, makes it real easy for Apep to swallow 'em.”

“So who or what is Apep? Or do I even want to know?”

“Even Amun-Ra don't fool around with Apep. Seth made him. Of course, that was back before when he was actually makin' things. He was just a child in those days, at least by the way you'd reckon it. Apep is a…well, I guess the closest thing you could compare him to would be a snake. Or a dragon, maybe. No. Snake is better. Giant snake. Like a monster anaconda. He makes his home in a certain place in the cosmos right on that piece of river we passed. His favorite snack is—you guessed it—the disembodied. Not much else to eat around these parts, I suppose.”

“Has he tried to eat you, too?”

“Would if he could catch me. I guess you could call him my archnemesis. There's nothin' he'd like better in the world than to sink
Mesektet
and enjoy the feeling of me in his hot little belly.”

“Does he, um…eat the living?”

“Oh, I'd imagine he'd enjoy gobbling up a tasty little treat such as you. I'd think you'd be real nourishin' and scrumptious to one such as him. Might be able to feed off'n your flesh for a decade or two. He nabbed a right proper number of the disembodied on my last trip. Likely he's still a bit gassy from that. Otherwise he would have been on us like a fly that found a capysaur turd.”

My nose crinkled up at the thought.

“First time I ever ferried a sphinx. Centaurs, unicorns, even a testy dragon, but not a sphinx.”

“Didn't you take the other sphinx? The one Isis made?”

“Never met her. Happens sometimes. Especially if the dead are unhappy when they pass. They wander. Tryin' ta find something to give their death meanin'. Probably what happened to her. They never make it ta my shores. The embalmin' rituals Anubis created help guide them here, but even then there are those who get lost. Mortals, especially modern ones, don't know too much about navigatin' the Cosmic River. They mess it up. Some burn their dead and throw the ashes in the river. Some float bodies out to sea or down the Nile. They mistake their mortal rivers for mine, but the only way ta get ta the afterlife is ta cross here.” Cherty held out his hand, indicating the expanse around us.

A whirlpool of the stars in the river caught my attention and I shivered. “Will Apep chase us?”

The ferryman shrugged. “Anythin's possible. But like I said, we got lucky. Not so sure that would happen on a return trip, assuming, of course, that I'd be willing to consider making an exception to my one-way rule and that you survived….”

“So do you fight him?”

“Can't kill 'im. All I can do is drive 'im off and hope he don't make off with too many of my passengers.”