Reignited Page 3

  Isis stiffened, her wings rustling in response to her irritation. “And just what is it that you think I do with my time exactly?”

  Osiris tilted his head, considering her, and then answered with a deadpan expression, “I don’t know. Grow out your hair and then cut it over and over again? Wax your wings, maybe? Fly up into the clouds and make rainbows?”

  Her mouth gaped open. but then she noticed the telltale gleam in his eye and the tension she’d felt a moment before ebbed. He was teasing her. Just like he had when they were children. It was nice to know she hadn’t lost that part of him. If she couldn’t have Osiris in the way she longed to, at least there was a chance she could still keep her close friend.

  Isis punched his arm. A gesture she’d made thousands of times when they were young. “Ruffian,” she said, her fond expression still tinged with sadness. “You know me better than that.”

  “Ow!” he responded with an exaggerated rubbing of his bicep, both of them knowing it would take far more than her fist to hurt him.

  “Besides,” Isis added, wanting to maintain the ease between them, “my hair is perfect just the way it is.”

  Osiris laughed fleetingly and caught a strand of her hair between his fingers. “That it is,” he answered, his voice low and tender as his eyes lighted on her face. For the tiniest moment, she basked in the warmth of his gaze but it was quickly gone with the clearing of his throat. “Well, if you’re sure you want to take a look, help yourself.”

  After spreading the papers out across the table, he shifted to the side to give her access to them and tried to ignore the brush of her wing against his arm. Osiris knew it would have been smarter to take a step back, to keep temptation far from his reach, but he liked the feel of her soft wings too much to force himself to move. When she exclaimed in excitement over his plans, he actually shifted closer, despite his reservations, peering over her shoulder to see what she was pointing at.

  “What do you call it?” she asked.

  “I’m thinking about calling it an aqueduct. It’s a way for mortals to bring water from lakes and rivers into villages. If they use one, the villagers can build farther away from the river so as not to risk destruction of their homes during flooding season. They will also be able to water crops from a distance. See here?”

  He leaned over the table, enjoying the feel of her warm body next to his, and pointed out one section of his drawing. “This can open and close so they can access the water when they wish, and on this side”—Osiris pulled another drawing to the top of the pile—“they can add more sections or move them around depending on what they need the water for. What do you think?” he asked as he stood.

  “What do I think? I think it’s brilliant, Osiris.” Cocking her head to peer up at his handsome face, she teased, “Are you sure you’re the one who came up with it?” He laughed as she turned back to his plans and ran her fingertip down the line. “What if you added a siphon?” she said as she tapped the paper. “If the water built up enough speed, it could potentially go over hills, maybe even mountains.”

  “A siphon? I hadn’t considered that.” Osiris quickly scribbled some additional notes. The idea had potential. A lot of potential.

  “Your mortals will be pleased,” Isis said as she straightened and placed a hand on his arm.

  Osiris turned toward her and all thought of his new invention fled his mind. He felt something almost tangible pass between them then, something he had no name for. It ebbed and flowed in the space separating them, pulling him gently yet insistently forward. He shifted back, away from her, trying to gain control over his senses once more, and her hand slipped away. Though it was fleeting, he recognized the hint of doubt and sorrow in her eyes. Such an emotion had no place on the face of one as lovely and powerful as Isis. He placed his hands on her shoulders.

  “Thank you for the suggestion. I’ll see you at the council meeting.” With that, Osiris squeezed her shoulders, gathered up his drawings, and left as quickly as his dignity allowed.

  #

  Seth stood in the shadows of the lattice screen where he’d been spying and watched Osiris leave, the plans for his latest scheme clutched in his brother’s overly large hands. Now that he considered it, everything about Osiris was large. His body. His overly developed muscles. His ego. His toothy, insipid grin. Actually, the only thing little about Osiris was his intellect. Well, that and perhaps his ambition. Seth snorted. Yes, the dolt aspired to nothing in life except helping mortals. What an absolute waste of time.

  If Seth’s older brother possessed an ounce of astuteness, he would have noticed the way Isis was, for all intents and purposes, throwing herself at him. Idiot. He didn’t know a good thing when it practically pounded down the door and threw itself into his arms. Still, Osiris’s failure to see what was right in front of him would work in Seth’s favor. His quasi rejection of Isis would make her much more vulnerable. Yes. It was time for Seth to make a move on the delectable goddess.

  Seth lifted his own fingers, comparing his long, lean, and almost delicate hands to Osiris’s as he considered his newfound power. He’d been practicing for weeks and hadn’t shared his gift with anyone. When he did show the council, he wanted to display his ability on his own terms. He enjoyed imagining the praise he’d get from Amun-Ra and the adoration of all the immortals, especially the females.

  But there was one in particular he couldn’t wait to share his ability with. When Isis saw what he could do, he was certain she’d fall all over herself trying to gain his attention. She’d want to spend her every free moment with him, not the silly mortals she fawned over. Isis would give heed to his romantic overtures then. The awkward, tight smirk she’d given him before, followed by a rapid disappearance, along with the way her eyes always shifted from him to someone else, anyone else, would be a thing of the past.

  Seth’s nostrils flared when he remembered how she’d run to Osiris just now. He’d been following her. Watching her. Waiting for the perfect time to reveal himself, his power, and his intentions to take her as his beloved. Unfortunately, it seemed Osiris was now another obstacle he’d have to overcome. But the god of agriculture was no match for him, he sneered. With a simple thought Seth could undo, unmake, every stupid invention Osiris used his peanut-sized brain to conjure. Perhaps someday he’d even risk unmaking the peanut.

  Seth wasn’t even sure such a thing was possible. Still, the idea of unmaking a god intrigued him. The electric jolt, the infusion of cosmic elements that energized him each time he unmade a being was not something he’d neglected to notice. The more powerful the creature, the more energy he was able to draw into himself. Seth had quickly become addicted to the heady sensation that came with unmaking. He hadn’t dared try his new power on anyone who would be missed, let alone on an immortal, but his fingers itched with the desire to try. He couldn’t think of anyone he’d rather practice on than Osiris.

  Just then, Isis left the room and Seth followed her, keeping to the shadows. If she’d used her abilities she could have discovered him easily, but the gods were complacent. They didn’t believe anyone was even capable of thinking ill of them, let alone doing them harm. Isis was as clueless as a newly hatched bird tucked safely in its nest, totally unaware of the snake gazing down upon it contemplating its meal.

  Isis wound her way through the gleaming palace Amun-Ra had created until she finally exited and sat down on a marble bench overlooking a park. Young, lesser immortals played in the water fountain, squealing as they ran through the sprays of multicolored water. He wrinkled his nose in distaste.

  Seth found the laughter of children an ugly thing. It reminded him of his youth when others had laughed at him during his pathetic attempts to conjure something, anything. Being around the young made his neck feel tight. Tightening his jaw, he indulged his fantasy to commit violence for only a moment and then reined in the very strong desire to unmake every creature in the vicinity. When he was in control, he approached Isis and managed to ignore the flash of discom
fort he saw on her face.

  “There you are,” he said nonchalantly, as if he’d only just happened upon her and hadn’t been following her since her arrival.

  “Hello, Seth. Are you well?” she asked distractedly.

  Beneath the folds of his tunic, he clenched his hands. One day he’d teach her that nothing in this or any world was as important as he was. Outwardly, he was all charm and deference. “Well enough,” he said, and then took a page from Osiris’s playbook. “I have an idea I’d like to run by you. If you have a moment to spare, that is.” Seth’s teeth almost ached with the wide leer he gave her. It was an unnatural expression for him.

  “Of course,” she said. “What is it?”

  “I . . .” Seth racked his mind to come up with something, a new invention that would inveigle and impress Isis. When he didn’t answer her immediately, she turned her storm-cloud eyes on him fully. He wasn’t used to such directness. Most people became uncomfortable and turned away when facing him for more than a few minutes.

  Seth knew he wasn’t much to look at. Not compared to the other gods. He’d always been tall, but his long limbs were thin, gangly. Only recently, since he came into his power, had he noticed his body filling out. He considered his eyes too watery a blue. His hair too nondescript. And he was cursed with not one, but two cowlicks that made his hair jut up awkwardly no matter how many times he ran his hands through it.

  Unlike the other gods, whose skin radiated with energy and light, his was blotchy and uneven. It was almost as bad as a mortal’s. That was probably what he reminded them of. A mortal. Even his own mother, the one person who was supposed to love him unconditionally, wept almost every time they spoke. Her tears rained down upon the Earth until he stood in a sopping mess of her sorrow that he was sure indicated her disappointment in having such a normal sort of powerless man-child for a son.

  Then there was the fact that clothing never seemed to fit him properly either. Even animals would run away when they saw him, or worse, would urinate in his path or growl as they peered at him with gleaming eyes in the darkness. Of course, that didn’t happen anymore. Strangely, animals seemed to have a sixth sense. They avoided him or slunk away as quietly and as quickly as possible. He rather liked the respect they now showed him. In his opinion, it made them the superior species on Earth.

  With Isis’s eyes on him, Seth couldn’t think, and for a moment he was as tongue-tied as he’d been when he was a youth. She’d always been quicker. Sharper tongued. Isis was always one to compete and had bested him at everything. An idea suddenly came to him. “I’ve invented a new game. And I’m wondering if you would consider playing it with me tonight.”

  “A game?” she asked, the delight obvious on her face. Her eyes predictably lit at the idea of a competition. “What do you call it? How do you play?”

  “It’s called . . . it’s called senet,” he pronounced, letting the made-up word fall smoothly from his tongue.

  “Is it a game of strength, running, or archery?”

  “None of those,” Seth answered. Of course her mind would turn to the physical (all the easier to best him in that regard). Either that or she was looking for a way to gawk at Osiris flexing his muscles. At the thought, Seth had to consciously control the tremor of irascibility that rose in him. “Senet is a game of wits with a dash of luck.”

  Isis beamed, and to Seth it appeared almost genuine. This helped to soothe his ruffled feathers. “It sounds like the perfect distraction. When can we play?”

  “How about after the council adjourns?”

  “Oh.” Isis let out a puff of breath. It was obvious she was thinking of something, or perhaps someone, else she could meet with after the council.

  “Ah, I see you’ve already made plans. You are understandably too busy.” Seth stood and adjusted his tunic, pulling it tightly over his narrow shoulders.

  “No,” Isis said, raising a hand to stop him from departing. “After the council meeting sounds perfect.”

  Seth gave her a slight bow, and took leave of her then, escaping quickly. There wasn’t much time until the feasting would begin. He’d have to use every spare moment to create the game he’d boasted of.

  The problem was he wasn’t creative enough to come up with something that would impress Isis on his own. He knew creativity wasn’t his strength, but he’d wasted a few precious hours trying anyway.

  By the time he got to the toy maker’s cottage he was sweating profusely, and despite his status as a god, he felt the beginnings of a headache coming on. He ran a hand over his face and grimaced as he felt the patchy bumps of hair. He’d have to shave if he wanted to look presentable for Isis. Then he blinked and attempted to unmake the irritating bristles on his chin and upper lip. Within the space of a second, they’d disappeared. Seth smiled and called out for the toy maker.

  He had waited too long. As the old man shuffled into the store, Seth leapt toward him. There was no time for politeness. Seth curled his lip, took the toy maker by the collar, and lifted him off his feet, issuing his demands in as succinct and clear a manner as he could, warning him that there would be dire consequences if he ended up late to the feast.

  Then Seth found a spot in the warm cottage and watched the man’s still-too-slow progress. When a half hour passed, Seth unmade the man’s cat. After another thirty minutes, he unmade a bushel of apples, taking one for himself and munching on it. Then he made a tool disappear and then another. There wasn’t much in the room for him to unmake. But Seth soon thought better of disappearing the man’s tools. It wouldn’t help his cause.

  The headache was in full swing after that, and Seth unmade the man’s coin purse as well as his wardrobe just because he was hurting. By the time he heard the bellow of the horn announcing it was time to gather, the man thankfully only had one more piece to finish. Seth waited impatiently as the toy maker’s shaking hands applied the last coat of paint.

  The game pieces were laid inside the wooden box and Seth took it roughly, tucked it under his arm, and prepared to leave. But before he exited, the man spoke up, which was a mistake he wouldn’t have the privilege of making again.

  “G . . . give the goddess Isis my best,” he said. “She helped my wife learn to weave.”

  Seth turned and bared his teeth in a dangerous sneer. “Oh, I will absolutely give Isis . . . the best. And since you might have reason to cross paths with her, I’d better make sure you won’t be distracting her from what’s best.”

  With that, he unmade the toy maker’s tongue and hands. It was a shame, since the man obviously had skills, but he couldn’t risk the man talking to Isis before Seth was ready. With a mocking salute, Seth left the toy maker’s home and headed to the feast with his prize.

  Chapter 3

  Blooming

  “Baniti, why didn’t you call me sooner?” Isis chastised as she took the baby in her arms. The poor thing was so ill that it looked ready to cry, but it couldn’t muster the energy to do it.

  “You were away,” the favorite servant of Isis replied. “I thought it could wait until your return, but he declined so rapidly.”

  Isis nodded. “I’ve seen this type of sickness before. It’s quick. And deadly,” she added. “We must hurry if we’re going to save him.”

  Cuddling the baby close, Isis instructed Baniti to build up the fire while she sang softly to soothe the child. Her wings fanned the air in the small home and the heat radiated around them. Sweat broke out on Baniti’s face. The day was already sweltering. To sit in the home with the blazing fire, made even hotter with the power of the goddess, was miserable. The heat was uncomfortable even for Isis herself. But Baniti trusted her goddess. She’d seen her work her magic before, and to great effect. If Isis could save Baniti’s little grandson, then she would gladly tolerate a bit of discomfort.

  Once the coals of the fire turned white, Isis began weaving her spell. Baniti closed her eyes and whispered, echoing the spell though she possessed no magic of her own. Baniti was so convinced of the g
oddess’s power she didn’t even blink an eye when Isis laid her precious grandson directly on the white-hot coals.

  The baby screamed, his cries piercing the air. And though Baniti winced, the expression on Isis’s face was one of calm determination. The skin on the boy’s little arms and legs turned bright red as he kicked and flailed, but Isis remained steadfast, continuing to chant the words of the spell. Steam rose from the baby’s body, and when Baniti blinked, the curling wisps seemed almost black as they writhed in the air. They looked as if they were live demons departing the baby’s form. Perhaps they were. Baniti closed her eyes and renewed her chanting with great fervor.

  Finally, the baby began to quiet. His glowing skin dimmed until it had returned to its normal color. Sweat trickled from Baniti’s temples to her cheeks, and she distractedly swiped at it with the hem of her sleeve. Her fingers itched to pull the baby from the fire, but Isis held out a hand to stop her as if reading her thoughts. “Let me,” the goddess said. “The flames will harm you. And he’s still too hot from the spell.”

  Reaching into the crackling flames, Isis picked up the infant and tenderly bathed the ashes from his tiny body. Baniti brought new clothing since the baby’s had burned away. When he was dressed, Isis herself having clothed the child, she sat holding him and smiled when he brought his thumb to his mouth. “He is whole again,” Isis said. “The disease was purged from his body. My magic will protect him from its effect for the remainder of his life.”

  Tearfully, Baniti knelt at the goddess’s feet and placed her palm on her grandson’s forehead. “Thank you,” she said.

  Isis shifted the baby to one arm and stroked the old woman’s cheek. “It is I who should thank you. You have been of great comfort to me over these long years. I am glad to have been able to offer you some of the same.”

  Isis whispered a word to bank the fire, then lifted her wings and stirred the air around the child, gently cooling him. The two women were quiet for a moment as they listened to the baby suck on his thumb. “You’re good with him,” Baniti said, rising with a groan. “If only—”