The Chaos of Stars
Page 55
“My stuff. You ripped up my stuff. And you took Sirus’s scrapbook.”
“I didn’t anticipate them valuing Isis’s things so highly. Imagine my disappointment when it wasn’t stored at your brother’s home. I’d hoped at the very least you had a key for your mother’s inane scrawlings, but no. I’ve had to wait all this time.”
He squeezes my arm as we leave the room. “I like you. You see what an insufferable worm your mother is. And you’ve finally given me what I’ve needed all these aching ages.” He nods pleasantly at the security guard and I stumble numbly beside him as we leave the museum.
He takes me down the stairs and into the canyon. It’s dark, darker than it should be, low clouds blotting out the stars that used to watch over me.
I refuse to die under a cloudy sky. I pretend to trip, throwing myself into a sprawling heap on the ground. Anubis’s hand on my arm nearly rips it from its socket, and my shoulder smashes painfully into the dirt as a sharp rock cuts my knee.
Anubis growls, his vocal cords shifting from human to something more raw, lower.
“Sorry,” I whimper, closing my hands over the rock as I push myself back up. I stand, and before he can fix his grip, I smash the rock into the side of his head and run as fast as I can for the beginning of the canyon and the stairs.
I’m almost there when hands push me from behind. My own momentum propels me forward, the asphalt at the bottom of the stairs shredding my palms before my head slams into and bounces off the lowest step. Lights explode in my vision and I can’t see past the pain bouncing around my skull.
“Did you think you could get away from me, you stupid, mortal child?” His voice is a tortured nightmare imitation of a person. “I am a god.”
“Only in Egypt,” Ry says, and my vision clears in time to see Anubis look up, his face twisted in rage, just as a fist smashes into his jaw. He reels backward, snarling, then a hissing noise cuts through the night, and my eyes and nose burn.
Anubis’s scream turns into a high-pitched, desperate animal whine as he paws at his eyes, spinning in circles.
“Come on!” Tyler says, pulling me up. My head swims and I trip on the stairs. Ry’s arm is immediately around me, and the three of us run from dry, crackling, salty death, still howling in the canyon behind us.
16
Amun-Re sits at the head of the pantheon of gods. He is without beginning or end, having created himself out of the nothing. He is the god of the sun, the god of creation, so powerful that he is King of the Gods. His names are endless, his titles infinite, but only one name is secret. Only one name allows those who know it to claim a position next to his throne.
Only one name allows those who know it to appeal directly to his power, to use it for themselves. For whatever end.
“YOU SHOULD GO TO THE HOSPITAL,” TYLER says, her voice high and rushed with adrenaline as she bounces against the door of Ry’s truck. I’m smashed in the middle between the two of them.
“I’m fine.” It’s a lie. I am not fine. My head is a symphony of pain, a sadistic master maestro conducting an opus of excruciating, devastating perfection. I can’t remember how we got into the truck, or how long we’ve been driving. Ry’s dashboard is slowly rising and falling like it’s on ocean waves instead of street asphalt.
The bright side is that I barely feel my palms, though in the occasional illumination of the streetlights we pass they look like they had a run-in with a cheese grater. Also I keep seeing other lights that aren’t actually there.
“We should call nine-one-one,” she says.
“Wait, that’s a real number?” I ask.
“What do you mean?”
“I thought it was a movie number. Like how they always use five-five-five for phone numbers. So that people wouldn’t accidentally use the real number for calling the police.”
Tyler chokes out a laugh. “No, it’s real. And I’m not sure why we haven’t called it yet. We should report that guy!”
“Can’t arrest a god.”
Ry coughs sharply. “You’re confused.”
“Seriously!” Tyler leans forward to try and look at my eyes. I swat her away. “He was going to hurt you! He did hurt you! I really think you have a concussion.”
He was going to do something much worse than hurt me. He is going to do something much worse than hurt me. “Police can’t help. He’s probably already gone. And he is my half brother.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.” I don’t have my phone and I don’t have any numbers memorized. I have to get home so I can call my mother. Warn her. My stomach turns and threatens to rebel, and it isn’t only because of the pain and nausea I’m swimming in. If Anubis did figure it out—if, all the many gods forbid, he learned the true name of the sun god from that fresco . . . The thought of Anubis with that much power makes me want to vomit. But I’m alive. I can still fix this.
“Thank you, guys. If you hadn’t come . . . well, thank you.”
Tyler has my wrist in her hand. “Isadora, you already said that. Four times. We need to go to the hospital.”
“No! I need to get home and call my parents. How did you know to come help me?”
Her voice is patient, the same tone she uses in the Children’s Discovery Room. “Like I already explained, three times, girl-who-does-not-have-a-concussion, as soon as I realized he was the guy who was asking about you earlier, I knew something was up. I’m so glad my mom made me swear to always carry pepper spray. And that I found Ry.”
“I didn’t anticipate them valuing Isis’s things so highly. Imagine my disappointment when it wasn’t stored at your brother’s home. I’d hoped at the very least you had a key for your mother’s inane scrawlings, but no. I’ve had to wait all this time.”
He squeezes my arm as we leave the room. “I like you. You see what an insufferable worm your mother is. And you’ve finally given me what I’ve needed all these aching ages.” He nods pleasantly at the security guard and I stumble numbly beside him as we leave the museum.
He takes me down the stairs and into the canyon. It’s dark, darker than it should be, low clouds blotting out the stars that used to watch over me.
I refuse to die under a cloudy sky. I pretend to trip, throwing myself into a sprawling heap on the ground. Anubis’s hand on my arm nearly rips it from its socket, and my shoulder smashes painfully into the dirt as a sharp rock cuts my knee.
Anubis growls, his vocal cords shifting from human to something more raw, lower.
“Sorry,” I whimper, closing my hands over the rock as I push myself back up. I stand, and before he can fix his grip, I smash the rock into the side of his head and run as fast as I can for the beginning of the canyon and the stairs.
I’m almost there when hands push me from behind. My own momentum propels me forward, the asphalt at the bottom of the stairs shredding my palms before my head slams into and bounces off the lowest step. Lights explode in my vision and I can’t see past the pain bouncing around my skull.
“Did you think you could get away from me, you stupid, mortal child?” His voice is a tortured nightmare imitation of a person. “I am a god.”
“Only in Egypt,” Ry says, and my vision clears in time to see Anubis look up, his face twisted in rage, just as a fist smashes into his jaw. He reels backward, snarling, then a hissing noise cuts through the night, and my eyes and nose burn.
Anubis’s scream turns into a high-pitched, desperate animal whine as he paws at his eyes, spinning in circles.
“Come on!” Tyler says, pulling me up. My head swims and I trip on the stairs. Ry’s arm is immediately around me, and the three of us run from dry, crackling, salty death, still howling in the canyon behind us.
16
Amun-Re sits at the head of the pantheon of gods. He is without beginning or end, having created himself out of the nothing. He is the god of the sun, the god of creation, so powerful that he is King of the Gods. His names are endless, his titles infinite, but only one name is secret. Only one name allows those who know it to claim a position next to his throne.
Only one name allows those who know it to appeal directly to his power, to use it for themselves. For whatever end.
“YOU SHOULD GO TO THE HOSPITAL,” TYLER says, her voice high and rushed with adrenaline as she bounces against the door of Ry’s truck. I’m smashed in the middle between the two of them.
“I’m fine.” It’s a lie. I am not fine. My head is a symphony of pain, a sadistic master maestro conducting an opus of excruciating, devastating perfection. I can’t remember how we got into the truck, or how long we’ve been driving. Ry’s dashboard is slowly rising and falling like it’s on ocean waves instead of street asphalt.
The bright side is that I barely feel my palms, though in the occasional illumination of the streetlights we pass they look like they had a run-in with a cheese grater. Also I keep seeing other lights that aren’t actually there.
“We should call nine-one-one,” she says.
“Wait, that’s a real number?” I ask.
“What do you mean?”
“I thought it was a movie number. Like how they always use five-five-five for phone numbers. So that people wouldn’t accidentally use the real number for calling the police.”
Tyler chokes out a laugh. “No, it’s real. And I’m not sure why we haven’t called it yet. We should report that guy!”
“Can’t arrest a god.”
Ry coughs sharply. “You’re confused.”
“Seriously!” Tyler leans forward to try and look at my eyes. I swat her away. “He was going to hurt you! He did hurt you! I really think you have a concussion.”
He was going to do something much worse than hurt me. He is going to do something much worse than hurt me. “Police can’t help. He’s probably already gone. And he is my half brother.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.” I don’t have my phone and I don’t have any numbers memorized. I have to get home so I can call my mother. Warn her. My stomach turns and threatens to rebel, and it isn’t only because of the pain and nausea I’m swimming in. If Anubis did figure it out—if, all the many gods forbid, he learned the true name of the sun god from that fresco . . . The thought of Anubis with that much power makes me want to vomit. But I’m alive. I can still fix this.
“Thank you, guys. If you hadn’t come . . . well, thank you.”
Tyler has my wrist in her hand. “Isadora, you already said that. Four times. We need to go to the hospital.”
“No! I need to get home and call my parents. How did you know to come help me?”
Her voice is patient, the same tone she uses in the Children’s Discovery Room. “Like I already explained, three times, girl-who-does-not-have-a-concussion, as soon as I realized he was the guy who was asking about you earlier, I knew something was up. I’m so glad my mom made me swear to always carry pepper spray. And that I found Ry.”
