Recreated (44 page)

“There,” the Devourer said. “Now it's time to add the final ingredient.” She crooked her finger and the cloaked man stepped forward. With a snap, the hood fell back, and standing there on the dais was Amon.

I let out a sharp gasp.

Amon stood bare-chested with a slack expression as the Devourer ran her hands over his shoulders. More disturbing than his lack of emotion was the state of his body. He was pale. So pale I swore I could almost see through him. He looked a lot like the ghosts trapped in the Mires of Despair, and I felt my heart break, thinking it might be too late for us to save him.

“Amon!” I whispered desperately, and felt Asten's arm wrap around my back. His touched calmed and steadied me.

The Devourer's voice carried through the arena. Though she spoke quietly, each word pierced me as if she were screaming. “Before we roast your bones so that I might suck every last living bit of your remaining energy”—she paused and tilted her head, pursing her lips in a girlish pout—“how about a final kiss?”

Amon didn't answer. Or blink. He simply obeyed. He stepped closer and the Devourer wrapped her arms around him, pressing her curvaceous form against his once muscled but now emaciated body. She pulled his head down, capturing his lips to hers, and I cried out, my energy bleeding right out of me.

When she pulled back from the kiss, sparkling white tendrils of fog framed by a green light trailed from Amon's mouth to hers. Delicately, she brushed his lips with her fingers, capturing the thick stuff, and swallowed Amon's life energy like she was eating a bowl of buttery noodles. She shuddered. “Absolutely delectable. I'm so going to miss you.”

She gave a nod and the Minotaur commanded Amon to climb into the boiling cauldron.

He'd only taken one step when I clambered to my feet. Asten and Ahmose weren't recovering as quickly, and I whispered a quick thanks to the other two occupants of my mind. It was likely their presence had helped me regroup. In an instant, I locked minds with them. We all agreed that it was time to rise to our potential.

Something primal and fixed centered my core. Confusion, indecision, and hesitancy no longer existed in my mind. I was sphinx—decisive, deadly, and determined. I drew my bow and shot an arrow of Isis into the sky.
Ten left.
As Amon took another step, I leapt atop the iron wall, running toward him, and jumped. Tumbling through the air, I drew my spear-knives from my shoulder harness. I landed, touching down as gently as if I'd been defying gravity, between Amon and the bubbling cauldron.

Pressing my shoulder against Amon, I stopped him from progressing. “Don't,” I begged. “Please stop.” But he kept pushing against me, trying to get to the cauldron.

The Devourer laughed in delight. “Amon, dear. Come back over here by me. We have a guest.”

Immediately, Amon turned and took up position right next to the Devourer. “We were so hoping you'd make an appearance,” she said, as if she and Amon were hosting a social gathering.

“Yeah?” I replied acerbically. “I guess your invitation got lost in the netherworld mail. Sorry to crash the party.”

The Devourer's frown did nothing to diminish her beauty. “Perhaps destroying the Turquoise Forest was too subtle. Ah, well. Lesson learned. Next time I'll be more direct.”

My fists clenched, and before I could stop myself, I shouted, “You pompous, evil, she-beast! You killed her! The forest was the only good thing left in this blinkin' hellhole you call a home.”

A part of me recognized that I wasn't the one speaking, and yet every utterance and twist of my tongue felt natural. The things I said, I owned. The passengers riding in my mind were just invisible layers of my psyche. They had integrated themselves into my being to the point that their thoughts were mine and mine were theirs. Our connection made me feel more well-rounded. More…whole.

So it was I, just as much as it was anyone else, who raised the spear-knife toward the Devourer menacingly, puncturing the air with it as my words continued to pour forth. “ 'Ur maggot-filled breath been ablowin' down our necks long enough. It's time you pay for what you done! When we're finished with ya, the wolves'll tear ya asunder an' feast on 'ur bones till there's not enough left for even the tide ta take ya out!”

She pursed her lips. “My, my,” she said. “Such a temper on you. Your manners are atrocious.” A feral smile lit up her face. “But speaking of wolves.” The Devourer dramatically waved her hand and smoke poured into the arena from every side. Dark clouds split into pulsating masses, gleaming yellow eyes shining from their depths before the pack took physical form.

The leader, snarling mouth glistening with saliva, took his place next to the Devourer. Licking his lips, gaze lethal, his voice filled my mind.
Let me have her, my queen. I long to taste her death.

“Now, now. Patience, my pet. This one's powerful, and I won't have her drained.” The jackal whined and she soothed him by ruffling his ears. With her eyes locked on mine, she slowly leaned down and whispered to him, “Yet.”

At his low snarl, she laughed.

I glanced around the arena. There were too many. How could one girl—or rather, three girls in one body—take on so many, power of the sphinx or no? Even with Asten and Ahmose helping, we were heavily outnumbered. The best-case scenario would be for me to distract the Devourer while Asten and Ahmose flew down, nabbed Amon, and made an escape. Defeating her wasn't very likely.
Why haven't we gone over a plan?
I thought.

“I must confess,” the Devourer said, interrupting my thoughts. “I didn't expect you to have so much fight left. Not after a sojourn of such length in the netherworld.” She tilted her head. “I wonder how it was you lasted this long,” she mused.

I didn't miss the gravitas she lent to her words, and it caused a prickly nervousness to shoot up my spine, one that left an uncomfortable tingle at the base of my neck. So far Asten and Ahmose had remained hidden, which was good. I didn't want her to know they were with me—at least, not yet. It wouldn't do to play my trump cards too early. In a game like this, anything could be wild.

“Don't get me wrong,” she continued. “I'm quite happy about your…vitality. After all, the more strength you have, the longer I can feed off you.” The Devourer inhaled deeply and smiled. The pupils of her reptilian eyes elongated, coloring the entire orb black as if she'd been overtaken by bloodlust. “Such a delectable aroma,” she said. “Imagine! A living heart. It's been eons since I've had something so fresh. Knowing such a feast is imminent puts me in the best of moods.” The jackals barked in happy agreement, as if their master was preparing to share the choicest tidbits from her plate.

I twirled my spear-knives and snickered. “Do you really want to be eating more right now? You're looking a bit pudgy, if you ask me. Might want to lower your caloric intake, if you know what I mean.”

Her eyes narrowed and tiny plumes fanned out around them, sharpening into dangerous spikes. The hair that hung down her back rose around her body in a halo, like serpents I'd just foolishly startled awake. “I assure you, your silly games will accomplish nothing. You can't possibly think to win.”

Tilting my head in consideration, I snapped my teeth and eyed the swaying barbs of hair, careful to stay far away from their striking range. “What a shame. Didn't anyone ever tell you how much cholesterol is contained in a heart? It can't be good for you.” I leaned forward with raised eyebrows. “Just between us girls, you're not looking your best. Why, you're bloated as a mattress left out in the rain.”

Wrinkling my nose, I added, “There's a particular odor about you, too. It's a bit like mildew. Maybe mold. Whatever it is makes the eyes water.” I pointed my spear-knife, angling it from her head to her toes, part insult, part threat. “Probably comes from consuming more than your fair share of rotten hearts. But I imagine that comes with the territory. You know what they say—garbage in, garbage out. All things considered, I think my chances are good.”

The Devourer's red-tinged mouth fell open and I grinned like the Cheshire Cat—that is, until she turned to Amon and ran her now-green-painted fingertip down his bare chest. “Amon?” she asked sweetly.

“Yes, my queen?” he answered in a monotone voice.

“Would you mind teaching this slip of a girl a lesson in respect?”

Amon blinked once, twice, and then sucked in a breath and headed toward me, arms raised, ready to destroy.

“Amon?” I called out. “Amon, stop!” He grabbed for me, arms flailing, but I easily spun out of his reach and darted away. He fell against the bubbling cauldron like a broken toy and I heard the hiss of burning flesh. He didn't cry out, despite the injury, and when he turned back to me, I saw a huge red welt along his side, pocked with angry blisters. “What have you done to him?” I cried. I stowed my spear-knives and raised my bare hands, afraid I'd injure him further.

“It's a simple thing, really,” she said as she watched Amon cornering me, a jubilant expression on her face. “His mind is broken, which means he's easily controlled. You see, when I take his energy, I replace it with the bile of the damned—a scourge that poisons what little remains of him. It makes him easier to digest,” she added as an afterthought, then frowned. “It's been terribly difficult to siphon off what's left of his energy. Boiling him is a last resort and carries with it the risk that what remains of him will be lost. Ah, well. Now that you're here it doesn't matter much anymore.”

That she'd been unable to finish him off was likely due to Amon's having the Eye of Horus. Long ago Amon had told me that the symbol of the Eye was a sign of protection. Having possession of the real thing must have kept him alive. I glared at her with all the hatred I could muster. It should have been enough to light the woman on fire, but she wasn't even looking at me. The Devourer was biting her thumbnail and studying Amon as he lunged toward me again like a drunken man.

“Perhaps I'll keep him around a bit longer,” she said. “His presence should motivate you to cooperate. And Amon is under my thrall, after all, mind lost in the Caverns of the Dead, until such time as I release him to a second death, anyway. Which is what I was about to do until you showed up. Lucky for you, I decided to wait. To think, you might've been too late to save the one you love. Even now I can hear how your heart beats for him. The sound of it…diverts me. Such deep emotions. They taste like the richest dessert.”

Amon lunged and I leapt to the side, throwing a leg out to trip him. He tumbled to the ground, loose-limbed and sprawling. I was grateful that he wasn't at full strength. Otherwise he would have been a formidable opponent and I'd have no other recourse but to defend myself. Already I sensed the Devourer tiring of the display. The jackals stood nearby, watchful, stretching out their necks surreptitiously to snap when they thought the Devourer wasn't paying attention.

I roughly kicked one of them and the jackal tumbled into his brothers, knocking several others over. They rolled to their feet and snarled. I took the opportunity then to move back into the more open area in the center. Even though it was too close to the hot cauldron, I deemed it safer than being in the midst of the pack.

Amon summoned his weapons from the sand, but his weakness made them unstable. He struck me with a sword that gleamed one moment and then turned to sand when it hit me. Ducking his next swing, I grabbed him from behind, trapping his arms.

Part of me reveled at being able to physically touch him again, even in this dire circumstance. His hair brushed my face, and the weight of his body against mine felt like home. How I longed to be held by him. To feel his warm kisses on my eyelids and cheeks. He smelled of blood and sweat and pain but beneath it all I could still catch the faint scent of his that drove me crazy—liquid amber with a kiss of cashmere and a hint of myrrh that's been warmed in the sun.

The absolute certainty that I was in love with him rocked through me, and I smiled. We belonged together, though the cosmos seemed determined to keep us apart. As the sphinx, I could discern the truth of things, even about myself, and I knew in my heart that my love for Amon was true; no matter what else had happened, no matter what other feelings I entertained, I loved him.

While Amon struggled, I attempted to distract the Devourer, hoping her hold on Amon would lessen.

“Obsessed with love?” I called out. “I guess a heart-eater would be. I'm surprised you'd even recognize it. Speaking of which, it's a wonder you don't have a boyfriend, what with your poisoned kisses and all. Does the netherworld have a dating service for people like you? Maybe you should set up a website. You could call it mybreathreeks.com.” The Minotaur eyed me with interest and I winked at him, going out on a limb to see if I could bring him over to my side using the power of the heart scarab.

The tinkling of laughter filled my mind. It buoyed me, and I glanced up at the wall, hoping to catch a glimpse of Asten or Ahmose. I didn't see them. I prayed that meant no one else had either.
What are they waiting for?

Amon slammed his head back, hitting my nose. Stars danced before my eyes. Taking my arm, he yanked me forward, pushing me not into the jackal pack, but into the crowd of Devourer devotees. Claws raked down my back and arms, attempting to steal my weapons.

I was dimly aware of the little rivulets of blood that trickled down my arm, dripping off my elbow, but my nose was throbbing and I couldn't see straight. A frenzy of screeching and grabbing ensued, and Amon became the least of my problems. I was caught in a whirlwind of demonic limbs. Bodies tumbled on top of me as if I were the ball tossed into a scrum circle.

A roar blasted through the arena. It had come from me. A dam had broken inside me, pouring out all the pain and frustration and sadness that had built up since the start of my journey. Since I'd stowed my spear-knives in an effort to keep from wounding Amon, I attacked with claws. I fought like a cornered animal, slashing and ripping. Bile filled my mouth and I blinked, realizing I'd actually bitten someone, and that someone tasted vile.

“Do not destroy her!” I heard the Devourer cry out. “Bring her to me. Now!”

The creatures ceased thrashing, though one of them gave me a final punch in the jaw, knobby stubs on the ends of its knuckles scraping my skin as it did so. My arms were held by no less than six of her goons, who had no problem kicking me in the kidneys when I tried to thrash against them. They dragged me forward, presenting me to their queen. I used the stela to heal my little hurts while I stood there. Amon, who'd trailed along beside the demons holding me, lingered nearby, his eyes fixed on nothing.

“Foolish girl,” the Devourer said as she moved closer. “As strong as you may be, you must know that my power here is irrefutable.” She waved her arm at the crowd. “Look around you. You stand alone. One weak, pathetic child pitted against every evil creature in the netherworld.”