Unchosen. Part 2

"You don't, huh?" She smiled, but sorrow edged the tilt of her lips. Her form s.h.i.+mmered. In the undulating light I saw Irina fade. The woman who stood before me now was beautiful in an ethereal, untouchable way. Her eyes, hair, and caramel skin tone matched that of my father's. She was dressed in a white gown with gold clasps on the shoulders. Her black hair fell in a s.h.i.+ny black waterfall down her back. "The big deal is that I am the sister of Anubis. His twin, actually."

His twin? I stared at her, wide-eyed. Sudden realization sent cold zipping down my spine. So, that made Anput-Irina-Rosie ... gulp.

She chuckled softly. "Yes, Molly, I'm your aunt." Her expression sobered. "And yes, I'm the one who betrayed Anubis."

Oh, c.r.a.p. We were going to have that discussion now? I looked at her expression, and realized that yes, yes we were.

I sighed.

"Catch up on your reaper history." She waved her hand toward my bed and a huge black and gold book plopped down into the middle. It was so large and heavy, it sank into the mattress like an anvil. "There. Now you have The Secret History of Reapers. Written by G.o.ds and necros alike throughout history. Too many authors to even count."

I eyed the book, feeling both curious and horrified. "Don't you have a Cliff's Note version?"

"Only reapers can read it. To anyone else, the pages appear blank. The book is imbued with reaper magic. You can search for specific words or particular stories just by telling the book what you want."

"Um. Okay. I tell the book what I want-and it gives it to me?"

"Not necessarily. Magic is strange, Molly. It'll often give you what you need, not what you want."

"Awesome," I said without enthusiasm. Like I really needed more adult woo-woo-boo-boo c.r.a.p. Why couldn't people just say what they meant, or go with a simple explanation?

"Why did you betray Anubis?" I asked bluntly. "And did you kill the real Rosie Knowles?"

"I am the real Rosie Knowles," she said. "It's one of my own personas that I created."

"Yeah. You just happen to be the lawyer of my grandparents?"

"One of them. I'm a partner in the law firm they have on retainer."

"You have weird hobbies."

Anput laughed. "I have a lot of time on my hands. As to your other question ... I made the mistake of believing in my Uncle Set and yes, I helped him. I was wrong, but by the time I figured it out, it was too late. You have to understand, Molly. Set almost won. The war took a huge toll on all planes of existence-the human world, the reaper world, the Underworld. It's why Anubis put a tighter leash on his reapers, and why the humans were gifted with necromancy powers. There was a time on Earth when no human had any magic."

No magic? Weird. I had always lived in a world with magic, zombies, and ghosts. It was difficult for me to fathom a world where everyone was the same, and no one had connections to the other side. Maybe life would be a lot less complicated if Anubis hadn't given humans the abilities once only wielded by supernatural beings.

"I've been staying out of the way of my brother, but now our uncle is making a bid for his freedom. He may well succeed, Molly, especially if the Chosen and the Kebechet aren't ready for him."

"Hey, no pressure, right?" I offered my aunt a grim smile. "I can't believe the fate of everyone depends on me leading bunch of teenagers."

Surprise flashed on Anput's face. "There are many more Chosen. You won't be leading a dozen of reaper wannabes against Set. You'll lead an army made up of thousands and thousands of necromancers. Chosen all over the world have been preparing for the rise of Set for a very long time. You're part of the newest generation, Molly."

"This is why communication is so important," I said. How could I lead thousands of Chosen against a p.i.s.sed-off G.o.d? I couldn't even get the hang of Algebra. My knees wobbled. I walked to the bench positioned at the end of my bed and sat down. Emotions poured through me. Fear. Anger. Worry. Panic. Nausea roiled in my stomach. Oof. "Are you sure I'm the Kebechet?"

"Your birth was part of a prophecy uttered by Maat herself. Anubis knew that he would sire the Kebechet who could defeat Set."

I noted the "could," which didn't mean Maat had predicted this fab Kebechet would necessarily win. Gawd. This was a conversational path I did not want to skip down with dear auntie. I mean, how many children had my G.o.d-dad sired (ew)? Did I have some half-sibs out there? More and more questions surged in my mind, so many that my head started to throb. However, there was one question that burned through all the rest vying for consideration, and I couldn't stop from asking it.

"Why did he pick Cynthia Briarstock?"

Anput shrugged. "Only my brother can answer that question, Molly. He must've had his reasons for choosing your mother."

"Yeah. Like you had your reasons for following Set?" I was surprised to hear the bitterness in my own voice. I thought I had accepted my mother's abandonment a long time ago. My human dad, Al, and my Nona had more than made up for anything Mom might've given me.

"Evil does not exist in a vacuum," said Anput. "It's created. Some wounds are so deep, so toxic, they never heal. Even good people can be poisoned by hurt, shame, anger, vengeance."

"Is that what happened to you?"

Anput looked stricken, but she nodded. "Partly. I believed in the wrong person, gave my trust to a liar. I paid for it. So did Anubis. And so did this world and the next."

I felt sorry for Anput. Anubis hadn't said much about her, but he seemed more sad than angry when he'd mentioned her to me. I still didn't understand her motives. While I didn't think she was lying, I couldn't know for sure. After all, as the reaper-teacher Irina, she pointed a gun at me, made me steal a soul, trapped me with a Russian gangster, and then took off for parts unknown. Yeah, she'd gotten me out of trouble today, but that's only because she'd gotten me into it.

"Stay strong, Molly. Train hard. Focus. And keep faith in Anubis-and yourself."

"What about you?" I asked.

"Have faith in me, too."

I hated to admit it, but liked Anput. However, I didn't trust her. She seemed to understand that, too. After all, she'd betrayed her own twin. How could she ever prove herself trustworthy again?

"See ya round, kid." She gave a little wave. Glittering black coils of magic swirled around her like attacking pythons.

Then she was gone.

"Show-off," I muttered.

It had been a spectacularly crazy morning. I turned around and contemplated my magnificent bed, which Henry had already made. His efficiency was scary.

Blurgh. My brain was rebelling against entertaining any more thoughts, and exhaustion made my limbs feel heavy.

I crawled onto the bed, pushed the ma.s.sive book to the side, and promptly pa.s.sed out.

I WAS PRESSED against a rock wall, my fingers digging into the craggy surface. My heart pounded in rhythm to the frenetic drumbeats echoing in the cave. Ahead, an odd purplish light flickered, throwing shadows onto the rock walls. The air stank of incense and sulfur, accompanied by a dank, otherworldly stench that clogged my throat and settled into my stomach like spoiled food.

"You ready, brown eyes?"

I looked to my left. Rath stood shoulder to shoulder with me. His face was streaked with dirt and blood, his s.h.i.+rt torn. He was sweaty, too, and breathing hard.

"You're hurt," I said.

"Not my blood, Mol. Yours. You already forget kicking the a.s.ses of those guards?"

"What?"

His eyebrows dipped and he frowned. "You okay? Did you hit your head or something? I thought you just skinned your knees."

I looked down. The jeans I wore were b.l.o.o.d.y and filthy, and had huge holes in the knees. "Holy c.r.a.p."

"Maybe you should stay here," said Rath.

"No way," I said, partly because I always wanted to do the opposite of what Rath told me, and partly because I somehow knew that I needed to face what stood in that flickering light, responding with unearthly screeches to the wild drumbeats.

"All right," said Rath. "Suck it up, princess, and let's go."

I opened my mouth to tell him to shut up, but he covered my lips with his and gave me a deep, heartfelt kiss. He pulled away, winked at me, then grabbed my hand, and we crept forward. My lips tingled, and my heart now thudded with the thrill of that unexpected kiss. I felt secure, confident, especially with the firm grip of Rath's hand around mine.

We ran.

The scene that greeted us was surreal-and awful.

The screeching of the animal in the cage sawed its way through the primal drumming. Dark figures surrounding the cage ... humans or demons or reapers ... I didn't know. They all wore black cowls, and they all lifted their arms up in a rhythmic way that matched the boom, boom, boom of the ancient music. I'd never thought about evil as a taste, but here, in this place, I could feel the ache of it in my throat, feel the acidic drizzle of hate dripping into my stomach.

For a moment, I couldn't bring myself to look at the cage, or the creature within. Not just a creature, but my Great Uncle. For a moment, I lost my ability to breathe, and I stalled our progress. My feet felt glued to the floor. Rath stopped and looked over his shoulder at me. "Don't lose courage, Molly. C'mon."

I wasn't losing courage. (I didn't have any to begin with, I was sorry to say.) I was gaining fear, and fast. I let Rath pull me along, but I didn't want to go. I didn't want to see anymore.

"It's him," said Rath. "He projects fear. It's how Set controls you, controls everyone."

"It's not affecting you," I said.

"Yeah. It is." Rath gripped my hand tighter. "I only feel brave because you're here with me."

"You mean, because I'm the daughter of a G.o.d, and that gives you security?"

"No, Molly. Because you're you. You don't give up. Especially when it comes to the people you love. That's where my faith lies. With you."

It wasn't the right time for an "aw" moment, but I hoped that if we survived this, I would have plenty of "aw" moments with Rath. We didn't really have anyone left except each other. Okay, that wasn't exactly fair, I know. Still, it felt that way.

Loss was a burden almost too heavy to bear.

I'd had enough of it, enough of it all. I wanted it to end. And the only way to do that, the only way to protect those who were left, was to make sure Set never, ever got out. I sucked in a deep breath, filled my lungs with the fetid air of this poisonous place, and let Rath lead me closer to the cage that imprisoned Set.

The cage was its own atrocity. Made of bones-bones of the old G.o.ds, just like The Secret History of Reapers had described. They looked like dinosaur bones, large and pitted, smudged with dark red goop. I shuddered. I didn't even want to think about what that stuff was. Blech! The cage didn't really have a door--at least not one that I could see. Of course, why would something meant to be an eternal prison have a door?

The creature inside the cage screamed again. It was a terrible sound, one of longing and rage, and it zapped me right down to my soul. Fear was lightning in my heart, ice in my blood. But I had Rath and his faith, and I had no choice. Kebechet. Right. I wished the word, the idea of it, gave me more comfort, but all I really felt was utterly afraid.

Rath pulled us behind a large outcropping of black, jagged rocks.

The drumbeats and the sounds of chanting rose up, blending with the yells of Set. Set was terror personified. In Ancient Egyptian hieroglyphs, he looked less scary. With the head of an anteater, the horns of giraffe, and the body of a mutant dog, he was snarling and snapping and squealing. He was dressed in ragged, singed clothing. He was huge ... the biggest, most terrifying monster I'd ever seen. This wasn't a late-night horror show, though, this was real. If Set got to the earthly plane in that form-no one would survive.

The whole world would be destroyed.

"Look," said Rath. He pointed to a box that sat in front of the cage. The obsidian box was as big as a coffee table, and the marble sides gleamed in the dancing shadows of the fires r.i.m.m.i.n.g Set's cage.

"Well, that's not good," I said. I couldn't begin to calculate how many souls would fit into that container. Thousands. Maybe millions. Surely, Set's followers hadn't been able to fill that thing. It wouldn't be possible. Would it? I went completely still and cold. "How did they get souls for it?" I asked.

Rath glanced at me.

We heard creaking and cracking, and Set's mournful cries turned to triumphant sounds.

The cage exploded.

Molly's Reaper Diary Portents, Visions, Symbols, Signs, and Dreams AS A REAPER-IN-TRAINING, you may have visions, deja a vu, and nightmares. How can you tell the difference between a nightmare that's warning you about impending doom and an embarra.s.sing dream where you show up naked to Algebra cla.s.s? Either one could be a vision of the future, but you should probably pay attention to the one that has fire, screaming, and explosions.

Symbols and signs will pop up, too-in your life and in your dreams. Portents are ways that the G.o.ds or other supernatural creatures (like sheuts, or ghosts, or whatever) try to communicate with you. I've never understood why someone (or something) can't just tap you on the shoulder and say, "Look, the apocalypse will be here on Tuesday. You might want to get a helmet and a weapon. Tell your friends."

But, no, it never works that way. The future can be told, but not written. Choices and free will mess around with outcomes, and P.S. G.o.ds aren't too good about keeping track of time. They're like, "Wow. The end of the world already? I thought that was last millennium." Immortals don't use calendars. That's why prophecies are so vague and can have fifty different interpretations.

If you have a prophetic dream, your first response will probably be to freak out. You may wake up screaming, or gasping, or even roll off the bed and bash your face into the nightstand. Once you recover, go get some exercise and try to shake off the heebie-jeebies. I usually go for a run and keep going until my legs feel like wet noodles and my lungs feel like they're gonna burst. Then I go eat ice cream. Lots and lots of ice cream.

Oh, if you can't find ice cream, don't settle for a Popsicle. Popsicles won't help at all.

"Evil does not always come in supernatural forms. Humans are often capable of deeds darker than even the G.o.ds can imagine."

~Secret History of Reapers, Author Unknown.

"Believe in the G.o.ds, and they will believe in you."

~Kelley Hartsell, Curator for the Anubis Oracle in Reno, Nevada.

Chapter 3.

"MISS BARTOLUCCI!" DR. ALLISON Mayfair's voice, rife with censure, bolted me upright in my desk and scattered my worries to the corners of my fogged-out mind.

My 9 a.m. Necromancy Literature cla.s.s was not my favorite, and I'd been thinking about Set and Rath and dying in cave. The nap-time nightmare hadn't left my thoughts. In fact, I hadn't slept much at all last night. I was too afraid of falling back into that horrible dream.

"Am I boring you?"

"Huh? What?" My voice sounded hoa.r.s.e and scratchy. I heard other students laugh as I blinked down at my notebook. I hadn't taken any notes, unless you counted the skull with fiery eyes and scythe clenched in its teeth. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Clarissa Jacobs lean forward and whisper to one of her minions. They stared at me while t.i.ttering in common derision.

I looked up at Dr. Mayfair, who stood at her lectern in front of the cla.s.s, her razor-gaze cutting me to ribbons. "I can only a.s.sume, Miss Bartolucci, that you were absolutely riveted by Chapter Five of J. Benjamin Parker's Keep Thy Soul."

I flinched. I hadn't read Chapter Five. Okay, I hadn't read any chapters of Keep Thy Soul. I'd tried, mind you, but it was written in the 1600s, it was all "thee's" and "thou's" and big words n.o.body used anymore. I'd given up after paragraph three.

"Um ... I didn't understand it," I said.

"Ah. Then perhaps you'll take a moment to listen to my thoughts about the devious Lord Manning and his innocent ward, Sally Wright."

Embarra.s.sment knotted my throat, and I nodded. My face felt flushed, like someone had taken a blowtorch to my skin. I heard Clarissa snicker, and I tamped down my urge to punch her in the face. Instead, I put my pen against paper and dutifully prepared to write actual notes.

"The author used Miss Wright as an example of magical purity," continued Dr. Mayfair. "Can someone tell me what Lord Manning represented?"

Clarissa's hand shot up, and Dr. Mayfair gifted her with a rare smile. "Yes, Clarissa?"