Recreated Read online

  Shaking his head lightly as if confused, he touched a fingertip to my chin, tilting my head one way, then another. He pressed his fingertips against my heart; then his eyes widened as he looked down at my brooch. “What is this?” he said with a tiny note of alarm. “How did this come to be?”

  Horus backed away from me and stared at the heart scarab as if it were a deadly scorpion. Pointing at it, he asked, “Did you do this on purpose to trick me?”

  “Trick you?” I said with a small, worried laugh. “No.” I placed my hand over the smooth scarab and felt the little tickle of Amon’s heart. Then, under my breath, I whispered softly, “Anubis warned me that immortals would react to it.”

  “Of course we react to it!” Horus spat, anger coloring his handsome features as he sprang to his feet. “You nearly had me trapped under the same spell as this poor fellow who you’ve obviously tied to you unawares. Was he not enough of a conquest for you, Sphinx? Did you need to add a god to your list of supplicants?”

  “Now, wait just a minute!” I shouted, angered by his allegations and feeling the need to stand up for myself, even if my accuser happened to be an all-powerful god. I stood, jabbing a finger into the air. “Amon wove this spell, not me. If anyone was unaware of it, I was. You have no right to blame me for anything. Especially when it was the action—or inaction, I should say—of you and Amun-Ra that caused Amon to do what he did in the first place. If anyone is to blame for this, it’s you and your fellow gods!”

  Horus stood on the other side of the chaise, chest heaving, hands balled into fists. Roughly, he ran a hand through his thick brown hair, and then he froze, a spark flashing in his dark eyes. “By the netherworld’s darkest pits,” he muttered huskily as he vaulted over the chaise and took me into his arms. I struggled against his grip but was unable to move. He brushed his lips against my throat and groaned softly. “Even now, knowing it isn’t real, I find I cannot resist you. The sweep of your neck, the curve of your cheek, the scent of your skin, all of it is heady, evocative. You must not deny me, Lily.”

  Bending me over his arm, Horus swept me up in a dramatic, knee-buckling kiss. It was passionate, drugging, and powerful, and even though I pushed against him, he wasn’t deterred in any way. In fact, my movements seemed to add more hunger to the fire fueling him.

  I was struggling, trying to figure out how to slide my hands out from between our bodies and over my head to grab my weapon, when a voice rang out in the atrium, effectively cooling the ardor Horus was overwhelmed by.

  The authoritative voice carried behind it the strength of a thousand suns. “What do you think you are doing, Nephew?”

  And as Horus finally lifted his head, the deep pools of his eyes glazed with passion, a crack of thunder echoed in the sky above us.

  “Uncle! I was…” Horus looked like a little boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar. As he hemmed and hawed, trying to find an answer to Amun-Ra’s question, there was absolutely no doubt in my mind that the man who stood before us was indeed the sun god. I continued to try to wriggle loose from Horus’s grip.

  “I know perfectly well what you were doing. Unhand the maiden at once.”

  A blush stained the cheeks of the god who’d been ardently kissing me a moment before, and he let me go. Horus stepped back, but his eyes kept flicking toward me as if it pained him to be even an arm’s length away. I steeled my shoulders, straightened my disheveled clothing, and curtsied to the golden god who stood before me.

  Why did you let him kiss us? I asked Tia in my mind. That would have been the appropriate time to pull the claws out! I’m not good enough at it yet to do it on my own.

  I enjoyed his caress, she replied simply. He was very…ardent. I admire a male who goes after what he wants. Perhaps I love this man.

  Seriously? Trust me when I say you don’t. You hardly know him. And let me remind you, we aren’t open to the attentions of other males. We have Amon.

  You have Amon, she reminded me. I have no one.

  Well, you can’t have him. He’s a god, and a very lusty god, at that. He’d conquer you and move on to the next pretty face within a week at best, a day more likely.

  I no longer have a pretty face. I borrow yours, remember? Speaking of pretty faces…

  We’ll talk about this later, I warned her.

  Amun-Ra was easily over six feet tall, and he was handsome, but not in the same pretty-boy sort of way Horus was. Amun-Ra’s attractiveness lay more in the strength of his form and the confidence of his bearing. His eyes were the lightest shade of brown I’d ever seen—nearly golden, like amber—and his skin was slightly darker than Horus’s, but there was a light that emanated from him. I could feel his warmth fill the space, the air nearly humming with it as he approached. Sweat beaded at my temple and began trickling down my cheek, and Amun-Ra took notice as I wiped it away.

  “I apologize for making you uncomfortable,” he said. He closed his eyes and the light visibly leeched from his skin. His eyes changed from the palest sand color to a rich caramel to a chocolate brown. I realized I’d been squinting, and blinked as if seeing him for the first time. The shape of his face was angular. His chin pointed. And there was a dimple in the center of it. From out of nowhere a servant girl brought him a goblet glistening with condensation. He drank deeply from the cup and then gazed at his nephew, eyebrows lifted. “Well?” he asked.

  Horus sprang to attention. “Uncle. Allow me to introduce Lily, a newly made sphinx who seeks an audience.”

  “Ah,” Amun-Ra said. “And who is the other one?”

  “Other one?” Horus mumbled with an expression of confusion. “There is no one else here.”

  “There most assuredly is,” Amun-Ra answered. “Perhaps your hands were too busy to notice that you held not one woman in your arms but two.”

  Oh I like him even better than the first one. He notices me. Can we kiss him next? I’d like to feel the muscles of his arms. I will choose him.

  What? No! I channeled back to her.

  “Two? How is that possible?” Horus asked in bewilderment.

  Ignoring him, Amun-Ra asked, “And who are you, my dear?”

  I knew he wasn’t talking to me and reluctantly nudged Tia forward. “I am Lily’s lioness,” she purred in the gravelly, more luscious version of my voice. “My name is Tia.”

  “Welcome, Tia,” Amun-Ra said as he inclined his head. “I have been told that the two of you have traveled far to see me.”

  “We have,” I said, quickly gaining control over my body again before Tia tried to lick Amun-Ra’s earlobes. Figures I’d get stuck with a lioness in heat.

  I heard that, she said. I am not in heat. It’s just that your unicorn was right. I find I enjoy the sensation of being petted by a human. Speaking of warmth, though, this one makes me feel as if I’m basking on my favorite sunning rock.

  I shushed her as the newly arrived god addressed us.

  “Please, won’t the two of you join me for a late meal?” he asked, and I knew he meant me and Tia, not me and Horus. “I find I am famished after a tour of Duat.”

  It has been long since we’ve eaten, Tia reminded me.

  “We’d love to,” I said, and took his arm when he extended it, gritting my teeth as I exerted strenuous mental control to stop Tia from squeezing his bicep. Horus followed behind us, sulking but unwilling to let me out of his sight. His busy hands kept stroking my arm, and when I pushed them away, Tia took the opportunity to move closer to the sun god. She also kept sending me impulses to turn my head and admire the cut of Amun-Ra’s frame. His curly head of hair reminded her of a lion’s mane, and she liked the way he smelled. Stop it! I said to her, and focused on the rushing of servants instead as we walked through the long hallways.

  “Your home is beautiful,” I remarked, attempting to ease into some small talk.

  “Thank you.”

  We entered the dining room, and though Horus made a stumbling attempt to sit next to me, Amun-Ra bluntly told him that his seat would be
on the opposite side. Though many women bustled around bringing dish after dish to the table, the three of us were the only diners. When our goblets had been filled with a golden liquid Amun-Ra called ambrosia, the servants lifted the domes off the dishes as one.

  Fragrant steam wafted from platters filled with orange duck, creamy mashed root vegetables, a salad dotted with edible flowers, and a sort of pudding dessert that snapped with fire, and my mouth watered. I hadn’t realized just how hungry I was. Amon would have appreciated Tia’s zest for feasting. Having long gotten over my need to maintain my New York City svelte figure, it wasn’t too hard for Tia to convince me to enjoy second and even third helpings. I ate until I was so stuffed I could barely move.

  “Thank you,” I said when I was done. I dabbed the corners of my mouth carefully with my napkin, even though Tia would have preferred that I sweep my lips with a fully extended tongue. Seeing Horus groan in near pain as he watched me do something as simple as patting my lips was bad enough already. If I had done what Tia wanted, he’d likely expire on the spot. I threatened her that I would happily never eat meat again if she continued sending me her brazen thoughts, and she sulkily retreated to the back of my mind and listened moodily.

  Since, thanks to Tia, it was at the forefront of my mind, I asked Amun-Ra, “Why are you not as affected by me as Horus is? Even Anubis seemed to be having problems with my heart scarab.”

  Amun-Ra leaned back, his eyes twinkling. “It affects me as much as the next man, but I have more self-control than my nephew. He hasn’t practiced the discipline of self-denial much over the years. To put it frankly, he’s weak.”

  Horus finally broke eye contact with me and glared furiously at his uncle. “You shame me.”

  “You shame yourself,” Amun-Ra replied with a sigh and a shake of his head that indicated he wasn’t angry with his nephew at all but more frustrated. “If you exercised self-control, you would find the temptation easier to bear.”

  “Is it that painful, then?” I asked.

  “It is the worst kind of pain,” Horus exclaimed. “I see you sitting there so close and yet I feel every fraction of distance between us as if each is an unbreachable, unending chasm. I am undone by it.”

  Amun-Ra rolled his eyes at Horus. “Do I need to banish you from the room?”

  Horus gasped as if someone had punched him in the gut. “Please do not jest with me like that. I cannot leave her.”

  “I am entirely serious. If you wish to remain, then you will keep your overtly swooning comments to yourself. Lily and Tia do not need to bear your insufferable fascination.”

  Grinding his teeth, Horus nodded pertly and went back to his quiet staring.

  “Is everyone in the netherworld going to react that way?” I asked. “Or does it only apply to immortals that are more…human?”

  “It will have an influence over every immortal. The form doesn’t matter. Even Nebu was charmed, though he is in love with another, which generally protects one from the scarab’s pull. Then again, perhaps he simply likes you. That’s always a possibility. You’ll never know, really. Besides, you’re assuming I’ll allow you to enter the netherworld in the first place. And I’ll warn you right now, I’m not inclined to do it.”

  “What? After all I’ve…we’ve done? I’ve come so far, and Tia, well, Tia has given up everything!”

  Amun-Ra held up a hand. “Please do not misunderstand me. I am not unsympathetic to what you’ve gone through; it’s just that I do not hold with the theory that the universe will come to an end should Seth return.”

  “Uncle!” Horus exclaimed.

  “What do you mean?” I asked at the same time.

  Scrubbing a hand through his dark, close-cropped curls, Amun-Ra said, “Seth was not always the incarnate of everything evil that Horus believes him to be.”

  “He’s had too many chances at redemption. He is beyond hope,” Horus declared.

  Giving his nephew a meaningful look, Amun-Ra said, “No one is beyond hope. You especially should know that.”

  Horus sank in his chair, a scowl marring his handsome features. “After all he’s done to me, I’d like to think you’d take my side.”

  “I did take your side. Time and time again I took your side. Even when it might have changed the outcome if I hadn’t.” Amun-Ra turned to me. “Horus makes Seth out to be a horned devil with a forked tongue and cloven hooves, and perhaps in some instances, he depicts himself in such a way, but that is not the boy I knew him to be.”

  “You knew him when he was young?” I asked.

  “Has no one told you the story of Seth?”

  I shook my head.

  Amun-Ra frowned. “Perhaps it will be better understood if I start at the beginning.”

  I sat back in my chair and basked in the warmth of Amun-Ra’s presence. Tia dozed like a sleepy cat—half of her listening and aware while the other half stretched out lazily in perfect serenity.

  “I was the first god who came into being,” Amun-Ra began. “At one time there was a space in the cosmos where matter collided, a sort of primordial jumble of thriving energy. We called it the Waters of Chaos since the matter ebbs and flows there like a multifaceted ocean. It remained confined in one place as well as if the fluid material comprising it were trapped in a colossal ball of glass. When one of our stars—not a sun such as you know, but the magical orbs that ring our world—fell, it collided with the Waters of Chaos and I was born.

  “For a long time I wandered from place to place, discovering the limitations of my strength, but as the eons passed, I found I was lonely. I determined to make myself companions and used my power to hurl two more stars into the waters. Shu and Tefnut emerged from the Chaos. They married and Tefnut gave birth to Nut and Geb. Do you know of them?”

  “Amon told me about Nut and Geb having to be apart.”

  “Yes. That was my fault. By the time Nut and Geb married, we realized—let me rephrase, I realized—what we had done. And as a result, I forbade them from having children.”

  “What do you mean? What did you do?” I asked.

  “You see, we were never meant to be. When I rose from the Waters of Chaos, I took something from it. The warmth and life-giving heat of the stars went with me. I did not know it at the time, but my creation left it lesser, and when Shu and Tefnut were born, they rose with the power of the wind and of the water. When they did, those elements went missing from the Waters of Chaos.

  “I was alarmed by my discovery, to say the least. The others didn’t believe me, and Nut and Geb were far too enamored with each other to listen to my warnings. Even though I sent their father, Shu, to keep them apart, they managed to find a way to be together. They gave birth to Isis, Osiris, Nephthys, and Seth, and when their children came into their various powers, my theory was proved correct. After that, there were only small fragments of life-giving energy left in the Waters. It was undeniable. The rest of my family finally agreed with my theory.”

  “So what did you do?” I asked, fascinated by the story of his origin despite the distraction of having to repeatedly kick Horus’s foot away from mine. Finally I shifted my chair far enough out of his range that he would have had to get up to reach me. Vexed, he shot me a tormented look so full of wanting, heat crept up my neck.

  “Nothing at first. We weren’t sure what we could do. But ultimately we decided to finish what we had begun. Through eons of study, we learned that the Waters of Chaos had been, at one time, the birthplace of all life in the cosmos. The circumstances of our creation had left it nearly bereft, sterile. The nine of us came together in a great council called the Ennead, and even though the children of Geb and Nut were still too young to understand fully, we made a pact.

  “We fashioned lesser gods from the remaining traces of the Waters of Chaos. Anubis, Ma’at, Thoth, Khons, Bastet, and several others came into being at that time. We carefully distributed the remaining powers of the Waters of Chaos between them and then that once vast, fertile sea was gone. Each new god was
constrained to make an unbreakable vow to join us in taking upon ourselves the burden of caring for the cosmos.

  “A set of laws was established, and we turned our attention to fashioning mortals. Worlds more numerous than you can conceive have been shaped and nurtured by us. Your Earth became our most cherished achievement. When we were satisfied with the work we’d done, I built Heliopolis and settled here to watch over the many worlds and the beings that inhabited them.

  “Now our duties include being the champions of the poor and fostering truth, goodness, and justice. Our aim is to use our powers to attain perfection and harmony. We took the ankh as our symbol, for it represents life and it reminds us of what was sacrificed so that we could come into being.

  “We move through the universe like a great wind stirring the fires of progress. Though we are unseen by mortals, our presence can be sensed in every dawn, every sunset, every brush of scented air on your cheek, and every raindrop. We are a part of everything and everything is a part of us.”

  “So Seth was one of you, then?” I asked.

  “Yes,” he replied. “Seth was a happy, curious child. He loved his family, was fascinated by the way the worlds were made, but the day he was imbued with his powers, everything changed. At the time, I thought we were being punished. That there was nothing left for him to inherit. I didn’t see it for what it was.”

  “What happened? What powers did he get?”

  “He received the most terrible and mightiest power of all of us. One that had the potential to destroy everything we’d created—”

  “Wait. If you made an unbreakable vow to protect the Earth and pretty much everything else in the cosmos, then why was Seth trying to destroy the ancient Egyptians? Didn’t he have control over his new power? Why did you have to recruit Amon and his brothers to stop him? Why is he in a cosmic holding cell, and why was Sebak so adamant about wanting him loosed?”

  I knew I was rushing him and asking too many questions. It was obvious. But I felt the weight of saving Amon pressing upon me, and Tia’s directness had influenced me to push for answers that we weren’t getting. I was growing impatient with the process of learning what we needed to know.