Recreated (32 page)

Ahmose took my hand but I turned back and offered my other hand to Asten. “Are you coming?” I asked.

Asten bent his head down to mine and answered with a roguish wink. “A thousand monstrous beasties couldn't keep me from your side.”

I gave him a small smile, and with him on one side and Ahmose on the other, it felt like all was right. We set out together—the four of us, including Tia—and it wasn't long before I realized there was a reason I'd had a problem remembering Amon. He was distancing himself from me on purpose to protect me, but I could still feel his heart was calling out to me. Now that I had Asten and Ahmose at my side, the distance from his heart felt unbearable.

We pressed on, me doing my best to ignore the pain and the suffering that I could now feel reverberating in my body. It weakened me to the point where I found it difficult to walk. Soon, I noticed Asten and Ahmose were also distressed. Something was draining us. Stealing our energy. At some point I was carried and I finally drifted off, dreaming of something horrible, deadly. And that something knew I was there.

Opening my eyes didn't scare away the monsters. Just the opposite happened. My level of discomfort increased. Asten and Ahmose were nowhere in sight. The fire I could have sworn was burning earlier was gone. I was in a sort of waking dream. I stopped dead in my tracks when the crack of a whip reverberated in the darkness. Then a familiar cry made me snap out of it and I took another step forward and then another.

The indistinct shape in front of me turned out to be a rock covered with a fine powder of sand. The air was hot and oppressive, like something thick and sticky had seeped into my lungs. It wasn't long before I felt a stitch in my side from the labored inhales and exhales. Still, I knew the cry had been Amon's. I had to find him.

Amon's heart scarab beat violently against my shoulder, its rhythm erratic instead of his usual steady, strong pulse, but I could feel the pull of it guiding me, pushing me forward. My own heart began mimicking its unsteady and fearful pace. Creeping through the dimness, all I could do was hope to find the beast that caused Amon's distress.

A smoky, guttural voice carried out from the path's depths. “Yes. She approaches. Just as I have foreseen.”

“L-leave,” Amon sputtered, “leave her out of this.”

“I think not,” the voice answered before letting out a shrill cackle that caused me to shiver. At the same time, the sound of a thousand sets of wings seemed to take flight.

I could see nothing, but my imagination conjured flocks of creepy winged things all around me ready to rip out my eyes and nibble on strips of flesh. I gasped, realizing that very thing could be happening to Amon right now. I picked up my pace, one hand trailing the large stone, the other groping in the darkness. When I came upon a smooth section, I stopped and examined the structure with my sensitive fingertips.

“It's not stone at all,” I murmured quietly.

An instinctive urge made me lean forward, and I closed my eyes and inhaled. Even without Tia's help I somehow knew what it was. I could almost taste it on my tongue. “It's iron. An iron wall.” Wondering where I could possibly be, I moved on.

The heat continued to press against my lungs with each breath, as if the devil had wrapped his hands around my rib cage. My feeble inhales became more shallow and forced. The last thing I wanted to do was faint. Amon needed me. I panted as I hurried toward the voices, but there was no opening in the iron wall, and it soon became clear that the conversation I was eavesdropping on was happening on the other side.

Amon screamed and the desperation building up tore at me.

“There's got to be a way,” I murmured.

Ascend
, Tia whispered. Almost instinctively, I allowed the power of the sphinx to flow through my limbs; the warmth running down my arms filled me with strength. My fingers tightened and elongated, the wicked claws sharpening before my eyes.

With a grunt, I took a few steps back and leapt. My eyes sharpened on a dim point overhead that I might be able to use as a handhold. When I shot easily past it, I gasped in surprise and scrambled awkwardly on the stone until my claws actually caught. To my human eyes, the wall was smooth and impassable, but with my heightened senses I could feel tiny imperfections, thin ridges and narrow gaps.

Like a cat on a tree, I nimbly pulled myself up, supporting all my weight with just the strength of my fingers. Scrabbling atop the wall, I crouched on the balls of my feet as I utilized the combined strength that made me and Tia unique, but I knew that our strength wasn't what it once was. Our eyes narrowed and focused. I blinked, and, as if someone had suddenly flipped a switch, the dark shapes below took form.

I cocked my head to listen as a dusty open-air theater of sorts came into view. Shaped like a bowl and surrounded by an impossibly high metal wall, it was being used as a spectacle, and the main source of entertainment was the man I loved. Instead of seats, the edges of the circular stadium writhed with specters that were less than entertained. Their demeanor bordered on tortured.

Gaunt and feeble, the creatures tore at their hair and clothes as they hissed. Thrashing and shifting, their bodies blended together and moved in strange ways, almost passing through one another like ghosts. I could clearly see the edges and borders of the iron wall they pressed against through their bodies. Though their forms fluctuated between fleshy and immaterial, they seemed unable to pass through the wall and escape. There were so many moving in such a tight space that they looked more like a multifaced beast than individuals.

They are without number,
Tia said.

I agreed, horrified. Then something triggered the mass. As one, they began weeping and rending their clothing. One woman—at least, I thought it was a woman—pressed her hands against her face and they actually melted into her cheeks as she howled.

It reminded me of the Edvard Munch painting
The Scream,
which had hung in the Met for a while. I remembered admiring it, wondering what awful thing could have happened to make a person shriek like that. Now I knew. It was being banished to the netherworld.

In the center of the circling horde, Amon hung limply from chains that bound his wrists to a large pole. His tunic hung down from his waist in tatters. A monstrous beast approached that looked very similar to an albino Minotaur, except for he had a double set of horns and a crocodile-like mouth. With arms the size of Christmas hams, he snapped a whip against Amon's back with a resounding crack.

I cried out as my breath left my body. Strips of flesh had been torn open, deep crisscrossed wounds decorating his muscular bare back. Now I knew why I was having trouble breathing.

A qilinbian,
Tia said weakly, and I hated the idea that the sting I was feeling and the weakness in my body were due to whatever was being done to Amon. That he'd kept the brunt of this pain from me for so long meant he'd been suffering immensely and, from the look of it, for quite some time.

A what?
I asked.

Instead of speaking through our mental connection, which seemed more difficult than usual, a picture of what she meant formed in my mind. Suddenly, I understood the purpose of the weapon and how it was utilized. It was a whip used against unicorns.

Sharp enough to gouge their flesh, which was much, much tougher than any animal in the mortal world, it did terrible damage, even to the flesh of the dead, which I imagined would be difficult to score. I shivered to think what such a weapon could do to a living being, even one imbued with power such as Tia and myself.

I choked back a sob, feeling helpless to protect the man I loved from such pain, but there was a new part of me that took in the scene with a sort of calculated indifference. My mortal, human side screamed desperately that we would save him. We had to. That was why we'd come all this way. It was the whole reason Tia was even with me.

But as I crouched there, taking note of all the variables and assessing how to overcome them, my emotional turmoil lessened. Just as I took a backseat in my own body when Tia was in charge, I felt my human self pushed aside. What took control, though, wasn't fully Tia and it wasn't fully me either; it was…us.

In that moment we weren't lioness and human residing in the same body. We were someone new, someone powerful—a supernatural being that was entirely…else. A warrior who wanted to fight and not for love or duty, not for meat or to protect cubs. But because it was our purpose.

It was the reason we'd been created. This was the reason. To put down this menace. And that new someone wanted to rescue Amon, but she didn't necessarily want to save him for the same reasons I personally did.

I…we…blinked. Something was changing. Though I made a feeble attempt to stop it and take control of my body again, I somehow knew that if Tia and I were going to be able to use our power fully in the way we needed to, we had to allow this change to happen, and we needed to embrace it. Feeling more than hearing Tia's agreement, I took a deep breath and let go, becoming more of an observer than a participant.

Our claws dug into the edge of the wall as we leaned forward, gouging deep scratches into the iron. Flecks of it shaved away and rained down upon the heads of the beings beneath us, but the disturbance went unnoticed. The bodies didn't seem to be aware of much more than their own suffering.

Just the idea of entering the same space these bodies occupied made the blood in my veins run cold. But this only impacted the tiny tamped-down version of myself. The part of me that was sphinx feared little. As I crept along the edge, looking for the quickest and quietest place to descend, I steeled my resolve, knowing I'd soon be surrounded by the lost dead.

Just then, the voice spoke again. I froze atop the wall and looked down. The Minotaur had coiled his whip and stood immobile, his head lowered. Puzzled, I looked for the source of the voice. I'd thought he was the one who'd been speaking. But then I saw her.

She was difficult to make out at first. A dark sort of cloud surrounded her, obscuring her until she wanted to be seen. It moved with screeching winged beasts that flapped leathery wings, giving me tiny glimpses of the being that stood in the center of their menacing flock.

Slowly, the writhing mass approached the Minotaur and a long and lovely limb reached out toward the pale monster. Her fingernails were painted black, her skin a greenish gray. The wings pummeled his body but he didn't flinch, even when several of them bit him hard enough to draw blood that trickled brightly down his ashen arm.

As her hand slowly encircled the Minotaur's large bicep, the creature smiled blissfully. Even from a distance I could see that he quivered in pleasure at her touch.

“Can you sense her, pretty godling?” the woman asked Amon as a long leg emerged from the winged mass. “She's very close. Perhaps if you're…cooperative,” she tantalized, “I'll chain the two of you together so you can watch as I suck the life from her.”

Her voice seemed familiar. I'd heard it somewhere before, but at that moment, I couldn't place it.

The reddish-black bats fluttered closer to her form, eventually settling on her back and shoulders to form a flowing cape. The smaller silvery-winged beasts alighted on her head and became a gleaming headdress. The effect was chilling, especially when the minions sitting on her shoulders raised their sharpened wings in the form of jagged, spiked epaulettes that protected what might otherwise have been a vulnerable throat. My hands itched to test the edge of my spear-knives against her living armor.

She was beautiful, with long hair piled atop her head, and she was curvy in a femme fatale kind of way. Every inch of her looked like the queen of the netherworld. Dr. Hassan had shown me pictures of the Devourer in a book on the drive to Luxor. That Devourer looked like a monster hippo with sharp teeth.

The real version, however, looked more like the kind of woman who wrapped every man she met around her little finger with one glance and then took them for everything they owned. It was all too easy to imagine her chewing up her victims for breakfast, spitting out their mangled carcasses, and rounding up another dozen for lunch. She was alluring and cunning, dangerous and provocative—exactly like the black widow she appeared to be.

“Ah!” She laughed, a sound at once lovely and utterly frightening. “She brings your heart. This is even better. Now I can take my time to savor the taste of you for centuries!”

The wanton gleam in her eye or the way she licked her cherry-red lips might have been mistaken as suggestive, but the part of me that was Tia knew it for what it was. The creature was hungry. And between me and Amon, we were a veritable buffet she could feast upon. For the first time in this dream, I wondered if my presence had put Amon at further risk. If our connection while in the netherworld meant I was really there and not just dreaming.