Annabeth Neverending (26 page)

“Did you love another? Did you have a wife?”

“Do you really want to know?” he asks, his voice low.

“Perhaps not.”

Sethe looks away, and it is obvious that he does not care to discuss it. I suppose he has the right to keep parts of his past private. Some things may still be too painful to recount. And to be honest, the thought of him with another is far too difficult for me to contemplate.

In this place, just the two of us, we are finally able to let go fully and completely. And so our lips touch, gently at first, but the passion quickly escalates.

I want to take his pain away. I want to ease the hurt, the agony, the humiliation. He devours me, our lust rising, the sweat of our bodies mingling. His kiss alone is enough to bring me to the brink of ecstasy
—
but he pulls back.

“It is bad luck to make love before a ceremony. We must marry first, Ana. Or else we will forever by damned by your gods and mine.”

“I do not know if I can wait,” I admit.

“We must do it properly. We cannot resort to savagery. There is no need to rush,” Sethe insists.

Though I feel like there is. I do not know how much time we have left.

There is another flash.

A bright light awakens us from our slumber. We are wrapped around each other, not for warmth but for comfort. We cling to each other all the tighter when our impending doom becomes apparent, as it is the blinding oil lanterns and torches of Kha’s men that illuminate our cavern.

The clanging of their waiting weapons is audible. A staunch warning.

“How did you find us?” I ask, courage surging through me.

When you have already come to accept your own demise, what is there left to fear? I don’t know how all these warriors made it through the sandstorm, but then again, I imagine that the black arts are capable of defying even the worst natural disaster.

“There is no escape from me, Princess,” Kha says with a look of superiority. Of victory.

I notice my cat is now circling herself around Kha’s legs, and her tiny feline mouth is turned up in a sort of smile. Why didn’t I realize Mew Mew was his familiar? Do not all magicians have evil animals intent on assisting them with their heinous schemes?

“Mew Mew?” I ask, expecting no answer from the feline, yet she meows in the affirmative.

I gaze back at Kha, who is now snarling with rage.

“I did everything for you. I turned to the black arts, all for you.”

“I never requested your love!”

“Yes, you did. Not in words, but you seduced me with your smiles, your kindness. And then you gave your heart to a slave? That is the ultimate insult! And now you shall suffer for your insubordination!”

Kha reaches his hands to the heavens, as though to gather strength and power. His men surround him. They are in hooded black robes, their faces hidden, chanting in a foreign tongue. Perhaps an ancient one? What kind of odious spells are they casting?

The cavern shakes and pulses with black light, with evil energy. The earth convulses with a fury, rumbling, tumbling, on the verge of pulling apart to reveal the underworld. Sand spills in from between the stones as they disintegrate from the agitation. Sparks and lightning fly from Kha’s fingertips. He must be summoning all the power he has at his disposal.

“Come to greet us where the sun sets and rises!”

The room goes pitch black. Is it even a room anymore? It feels as though it is now the night sky. The darkest sky there could be.

Out of the vast chasm appears a large snake. He is huge, and he is ominous. His scales are so glossy that they glow. He looks like he is made of quicksilver; he glides so quickly across the floor. He opens his mouth and hisses, his forked tongue rolling out to greet us, his beady eyes glimmering.

I instantly recognize him, and fear works its hooks into me, latching on, threatening never to let go. This is Apep, the snake god of chaos. Of darkness. Of evil. And now he is not merely a hieroglyphic, a flat figure that one sees upon a wall; he is the physical embodiment of all that is wicked. The most dreaded god in our pantheon.

He is the one who leaves us praying for the protection of the sun god, Ra. We beg him to keep us in his light, to keep us free from the ruthless slither of Apep. Perhaps Ra can save us now.

“Apep, embolden me with your darkness. Fill me with your power!”

Kha throws back his head as his body is charged with a humming, buzzing, singing, sparking black energy! He screams throatily as he is lifted into the air, floating in the darkness, surging with evil. Is he human any longer?

My dear Ma’at, Kha is the personification of all that is vile!

He descends, landing on the floor right in front of us. He points at us, seething.

“I hereby curse you both! No matter how many lives you live, no matter how many times you fall in love, I shall destroy you! The pain and misery will only come to an end when Ana gives me her heart willingly.”

If he still had any aspirations of winning my affection, then cursing me and the man I love was not the right strategy.

Apep disappears into the ether, and the dismal darkness goes with him. And now, aided by light, though it may be minimal, Sethe and I take our places. He throws me a polearm, and I grip the long handle, swinging it around to get a feel for the weighty steel weapon that sits on its tip.

We each strike a fighting stance, as we are both on the offensive now. Kha’s men rush at Sethe, which is not ideal. So I am left to target Kha myself. He is so deranged; he must have planned it this way, so he could teach me a lesson. But I would have chosen to take him on anyway, as I want to make it abundantly clear that he never will have me. Fighting him should get that message across better than any words could.

My polearm keeps clashing with his, and though I can hold my own, I am no match for Kha. Perhaps magic has made him a better fighter than he has the right to be. He takes every last bit of energy I have, but I find it within me to continue just a little longer. I am about to sweep his leg, and I sense that triumph is imminent…

Until I feel some arms grabbing me from behind. His men have me! The fight served as a perfect distraction. I thrash so hard that I break free and run as I have never run before.

“Do not stop, no matter what happens!” Sethe cries while still at work, slicing through the side of Kha’s subordinate.

I make my way up a narrow, low
-
ceilinged staircase and rush outside, but the sandstorm is still in full force. I try to elude Kha’s men, but I do not get far. I am suffocating. His minions pull me back as I kick and scream and slap, but they are much stronger than me.

One of them takes down his black hood and reveals himself to be my brother Amun.

Amun!

“Do not fight it, Sister. You must do what Kha says. He will lead us all soon.”

So Amun is in league with Kha! It was all part of his master plan for me to marry him. Amun purposely made himself abhorrent to me, knowing I would seek another mate. I was but a pawn in his elaborate game.

My mother was not the only one guilty of betrayal. Amun has turned his back not only on me but also on his father, his gods, his country. He has fallen prey to the darkness and let it devour his soul.

What does this mean for Egypt? Will the entire empire crumble after giving way to Kha’s will?

Once I have been dragged back inside the monument, I watch as Kha and Sethe engage in a battle of their own. They swing around their weapons, their knife
-
tipped edges splitting through the air.

“I have had my fun. But now, I shall bring an end to this. To you.”

Though Sethe is a champion, even he can’t best Kha, who smashes the blunt end of his weapon into the side of my love’s head with a resounding, sickening thud.

Sethe falls down in a crumpled heap on the stone floor. He is wounded, but he must live. There can be no alternative. For I would perish without him.

“No!” I scream from the bottom of my lungs. I attempt to run toward Sethe but am unable to get around Kha and his men, who are now blocking my way.

The tears run down my cheeks, but I wish them away. I can show no weakness now.

Kha throws his polearm down and walks over to me. He grabs me and gives me a forceful kiss. I do not reciprocate; indeed, I bite his lip until it bleeds. I step back and look at him daringly as Kha babies his mouth, ferocity blazing in his eyes. Infuriated by my latest rejection, he comes at me.

His face is contorted in rage, and he thrusts a sword deep into my belly, impaling the internal organs that mummifiers take such care to salvage and preserve for the afterlife. I bend over in agony, as the pain is excruciating. Every fiber of my body feels as though it is being pulled apart at the same time.

I fall down, lying in a pool of my own blood. It is silky smooth and soothingly warm. I am but clinging to what remains of my life, trying hard to stay on this side of the light. I have so many wounds…a gash in my gut, my heart, and my soul.

Sethe and I are too far apart to touch. The distance is small yet infinite. We reach for each other, our fingers stretched to their limits, but cannot make contact, though we try with all that we have left.

I care little for what becomes of me, but Sethe…He has already endured so much sorrow. Why is that some people were made to live existences free from strife, while others seem to attract it?

“Do not leave me! You are all I have. All I have ever wanted!” he cries.

If only I could speak. If only I could comfort him, help him accept my death, let him know that he gave me more happiness than I ever knew possible. He was worth every hardship, every bit of pain. I just hope that I was worth it. I pray that loving me brought him enough joy to offset the misery. But if I do not value myself that highly, how could he?

Members of the pharaoh’s guard arrive, looking for us. Kha’s men probably told them where to find us. They are heading straight for Sethe. After all, to the casual observer, it would look as though he killed me. My blood now coats his hands. They must think him, the most honorable being I have ever known, nothing more than a common murderer.

But they are too late. I watch on as he collapses completely, and I know that he is gone. His body is but a shell, a hollow receptacle that once housed his beautiful soul. Now I welcome my own death completely. For maybe it will bring me back to Sethe once more.

“That slave, Sethe
—
he is the one who killed the princess!” says Kha accusingly.

“It was him,” I try to scream. If only I could lift my arm and point to Kha, so they would know the true killer, but it is impossible. I try to say it…I fail even at that.

“When I tell the pharaoh of your indiscretion, you shall be struck from the historical record. Erased. It will be as though you never existed!”

Kha looks at me, his eyes oozing with rage and determination. “You will love me!”

“Never,” I say so quietly, so weakly, I wonder if he even heard the word.

Kha stands there impatiently watching me, waiting for my life to end. “I shall see you in the next life. Perhaps then, you shall choose more wisely.”

Mew Mew comes and licks at my blood as it pools around me, a final act of insult. My life force slowly draining from me, ebbing, ebbing, ebbing away like the Nile at the end of its tidal cycle. There is nothingness. A complete and utter emptiness. I feel myself growing ever weaker, ever smaller. I reach for the welcoming darkness. For Sethe is there.

Then I feel the light. It overtakes me.

This is what it is like to die.

25

I
sputter awake, holding on to this existence as best I can. I feel like I’m perilously close to having a heart attack; maybe I already did
—
the overload was so strong. But I can’t leave this life yet. There’s too much yet to be done.

The good news is, I didn’t turn evil. The bad news is, Kha killed me before I had a chance to truly live. I won’t let him do it again.

I’m hot, I’m cold, I’m alive, I’m dead
—
I’m everything and nothing all at once. It takes me a few seconds to notice that the ankh is still in my hand, but it’s no longer causing me seizures. It must be tapped out. I suppose I’ve accessed all the memories it possesses. I need to clasp it behind my neck for safekeeping. But there’s a problem. I can’t move my arms, or even my fingers. And my legs and toes are numb and lifeless too.

As if experiencing my own death wasn’t horrible enough. As if witnessing Sethe being
killed
in front of me wasn’t as terrible as it should get.

Now I can’t even move? This is catastrophic. I would wail, but I think my tear ducts are still too depleted from Mrs. Lansing’s untimely passing. Now I’ve felt her loss twice, though it doesn’t feel doubly hard. It’s exponentially greater. This is the worst aspect of remembering a past life, the most hideous part of reincarnation.

As awful as the grief I feel over Mrs. Lansing and Nefertari may be, as vacant as the void inside of me has grown, nothing is quite as traumatic, as hard to rebound from, as seeing your true love perish. And now, to punctuate the horror, my body is unable to shake the loss of feeling I experienced when death gripped me.

I try to get my blood flowing, the sensation back in my extremities. But it isn’t connecting. I attempt to steady my nerves to prevent myself from screaming. I don’t need C. J.’s parents to rush outside and find me lying here on the ground. Besides, he’ll get here any minute. And then we’ll be on our way.

I just need time; I just need time.

I repeat this over and over again like a mantra.

Terrible as the other side effects may have been, this is the vilest, the scariest. At least before, I was somewhat functional. Now I’m completely helpless.

He killed me.

I’m willing to forgive a lot of things, but all this murderous behavior is kind of a deal breaker. As if the choice weren’t already clear…

I pick C. J.

“The paralysis is only temporary,” I say to myself.

But who knows how long temporary could be?

This is muscle memory, or lack thereof…It’s from passing on. From dying!

This is deeply disturbing. But I have to hold it together. My head is all I’ve got going right now.

So my body is remembering what it’s like to be dead. I need to reawaken myself. I have to bring myself back to life. My body may be broken, but I’m invigorated by the prospect of running away with C. J. I try to call upon that crackle of energy inside me to propel some motion, prompt some movement. But it isn’t working.

As the consuming shock of the paralysis continues to set in, I glance at Mew Mew and notice that she resembles a combination of her past and present selves. I see jagged seams, like the kind that would be in a broken mirror, running between her leather collar of today and her gold neckband of yore. I look around further, scanning the area to the limited extent that I’m able, and find that my surroundings have transformed into some sort of deranged collage.

I see the sloping, squared
-
off walls of the palace at Pi
-
Ramses brush up against the brick facade of C. J.’s house. When I close my eyes, I fixate on the fact that I’m immobile. Yet when I open them, I have difficulty processing the blend of time periods that surrounds me. They weren’t exactly meant to intermingle.

Mew Mew stares at me as she sits on her hind legs. The innocence I once saw in her kitty cat face is gone. She is no longer an ally, a kindred spirit. She’s a blood
-
licking betrayer.

“You sick little feline. I trusted you!”

Not that she cares how I feel about her. After all, she brought me the very object that would fuel my hatred.

The cat lifts her paw toward my face and protracts her claws. She waves them tauntingly, her tiny mismatched eyes brimming with menace. I screech, bracing for the painful shredding of skin, the hideous tearing of muscle. But she runs off when she catches sight of C. J. heading toward me. And this time, I know enough to let her go.

If only I had been this decisive when it came to boys, I wouldn’t be in this predicament!

“What happened? Why are you on the ground?”

“It’s a long story. I’m just a little paralyzed…for now.”

“What do you mean? You can’t be a little paralyzed!” C. J. cries.

“It’s fine. Seriously. Besides, the term ‘running away’ doesn’t have to be literal. You can carry me,” I quip.

C. J. looks at me, and I can see the alarm permeating every feature in his face.

“Try giving me the EpiPen!” I beg, desperate for any solution, though I have my doubts that something made of science will impact my supernatural symptoms.

C. J. nods resolutely and fishes the syringe out of my purse. He reads the instructions and then plunges its needle into my skin, not that I can feel it, but I can see it…And as expected, it does nothing.

“We’re going to the hospital,” he announces. He opens the car door and reaches down to pick me up in his capable arms. I drape over him like a wet noodle. This can’t be attractive.

“No! Please! Who knows how long it could take for me to recover?”

“Precisely,” says C. J. as he gingerly sets me inside my seat and buckles my belt.

And I can’t fight him on this. After all, I can’t even move.

“Fine. But you have to promise me you won’t tell my parents. It’ll really slow us down.”

C. J. nods with reluctance. “Though they’re bound to find out eventually,” he reminds me.

Maybe, but I’m hopeful it won’t come to that. I’m buying myself some time. If I’m lucky, I can resume feeling before we even reach the doctor. This adds a level of agitation and stress to the recovery.

“Wait! Don’t forget my ankh!”

I direct C. J. to my necklace, which is now resting carelessly on the pavement, having fallen from my lifeless hand.

I have him hook it around my rubbery neck as my head lolls to the side. Now I have one pendant representing my present and one representing my past. I can hear them clanging against each other, colliding on my collarbone just as the past and present are clashing in my mind.

“This is just like the one from the museum,” C. J. points out.

“It
is
the one from the museum.”

C. J. shakes his head, disbelieving. “Things are definitely getting weirder. Which I didn’t think was possible.” He pauses and looks at me resolutely. “Don’t worry. We’ll get you taken care of, all right?”

I nod. This getaway isn’t exactly off to the best start. I expected a romantic adventure, not the threat of emergency medical care.

It’s hard to say which side effect is worse, the paralysis or the jumbling together of past and present in my mind. So many wires have been crossed. If only I knew how to uncross them…

I take in C. J. and smile. But it’s disconcerting. He’s also half Sethe. Tan, pale, leather, cotton, old, new. As we drive along, and I watch out the window, things are melding together more and more. The York landscape looks like it’s being viewed through a kaleidoscope. At any given second, I see maples mixed with palm trees, painted limestone juxtaposed against stained wood.

It’s threatening to drive me off the edge.

I try to shift gears and focus on the future. We’re doing it. We’re running away together…right after we stop at York Hospital. I may not like it, but it’s because he cares. He’s being a hero.

I need to big
-
picture it. I’ve made the right choice. That’s what matters most. Disruptions happen; hiccups occur. We’ll persevere together.

Though my paralysis is no longer the only issue. The sky overhead is beginning to darken. Thick, heavy clouds that look like masses of slate
-
gray yarn are collecting. A storm is brewing. It doesn’t matter if it’s ancient Egypt or Maine; the elements are never on my side.

Welts of water start smacking up against the windshield. Driving in Maine is treacherous enough as it is, and serious ice storms make matters that much worse. Everything becomes coated with water, and then it freezes over, creating invisible black ice. The darkness, the helplessness, the feeling of being covered, buried, if only by rain
—
it’s bringing back the sandstorm.

Do certain events parallel each other across lifetimes? Maybe it’s a big
-
time loop that just keeps repeating with some major, some minor variations? Could it be that overlap is inevitable? Destiny can’t be like one of those old vinyl albums I’ve unloaded at the flea market, where things keep turning around and around in a circle.

My cell phone, which C. J. has propped up in the drink holder next to me, rings ominously.

Gabriel’s picture pops up on the smartphone’s face, smiling at me. The tone of his grin has now changed, given the circumstances.

He killed me.

“Ignore it,” C. J. says with certainty.

“You sure you don’t want to pick up?” I ask cautiously.

Maybe he’s calling us to cackle, to threaten. That’s what villains do, right? They tease. It’s part of the sick fun. But I am curious to hear what he has to say.

C. J. looks up in his rearview mirror.

“Why bother? He’s following us.”

Terror grips me, squeezing my insides like a vice. Destroying my confidence in our impromptu getaway plan. If he found us already, before we even made our first pre
-
escape pit stop, well, that doesn’t bode well for eluding him in the long term. And discovering that Gabriel’s on our tail is too reminiscent of ancient Egypt, when Kha was victorious.

He killed me.

I’m able to flop my head over enough to look in the rearview mirror myself, and I see Gabriel motioning for us to stop.

“What should I do?” asks C. J.

I close my eyes and open them while looking at him, hoping to make C. J. whole, but he’s still a living mosaic. A pastiche of different lifetimes.

“Don’t stop. Who knows what he has planned!”

But this can’t be easy for him. He and his newly minted girlfriend are evading his sibling of a lifetime. C. J. doesn’t pull over, but he looks pained. He’s in a tough situation.

And Gabriel won’t give up. Gabriel drives up alongside us, trying to coerce us into pulling over. This is a narrow road, and he swerves back behind us when an oncoming car appears. Interminable moments pass without another attempt.

But then our car lurches forward with a
thunk
. Gabriel is hitting C. J.’s car with his!

My head is now being propped up by the taut seatbelt. I’m grateful to have its edges digging into the side of my neck. It’s a tiny reminder that part of me is still capable of feeling.

C. J. accelerates, and we try to outrun Gabriel, which isn’t exactly the best idea given the icy, curving roads. But Gabriel is intent on bringing this to a head…because we pitch forward yet again, the car sliding ahead quickly on the slick asphalt.

The rain accelerates in frequency and grows in heaviness. The windshield wipers can barely keep up with it; the freezing droplets are coming down hard and fast. The rain has coated the windshield with an opaque sheet of ice that blurs our surroundings.

Gabriel and his car appear next to us yet again, but this time he bangs into us from the side, forcing us to careen deep into a deserted lot overgrown with scrub and white birch trees.

We hit a giant boulder, which brings us to an abrupt, jarring stop. We slam forward in our seats, and I come within millimeters of hitting the windshield. C. J. immediately comes to my aid, easing me back into my headrest, gently pushing my hair out of my face.

“Annabeth, were you hurt?” cries C. J., his voice cracking with worry.

“I don’t think so, but it’s hard to tell,” I say wearily. This is threatening to go down in the history books as the worst escape ever. Well, I guess the “escape” from Kha in ancient Egypt was more of a disaster because I died. But the night is still young.

“That’s it. I’m finishing this! I’ll be back,” says C. J. adamantly, getting out of the car.

I don’t want to stay in here, but at the moment, I don’t have much of a choice.

Gabriel bolts out of his car toward C. J.’s and knocks on my window. He’s shouting so loudly I can hear him through the tempered glass.

“I didn’t run you off the road! I know I didn’t do it! This time, I’m innocent,” yells Gabriel.

More deception. Why does he even bother?

“Annabeth, please believe me!” he insists.

“You mean like you warned me that I was next? After you offed Mrs. Lansing?”

Gabriel pretends to look upset. He’s doing a good approximation of actual shock, but it’s all part of his scheme.

“What are you talking about? What happened to Mrs. Lansing?”

“You’d know better than me,” I say with a scoff and a tear as C. J. comes up behind him and pushes him so hard he flies right into my window. I grimace as I look at Gabriel’s face, now squished into the pane right in front of me. Gabriel backs away and turns toward C. J.

My determination is so strong, my desire so great, I get enough feeling back in my hand to open the lock and unfasten my seatbelt. Sensation is returning to my arms, but the rest of my body is still slack. Yet I manage to find the momentum to pry the door open and throw myself onto the dirt below, where I land on my stomach. I don’t even blink an eyelash; so much of me is still devoid of feeling.

I look up and see that it’s time for the reckoning. C. J. pulls Gabriel roughly by the jacket and drags him into a clearing before hurling him to the ground.

“I guess I deserve this for whatever I
have
done.”