screeching body, a tiny fleck of gold flew free of the creature’s neck and pinged against one of the dragon’s ruby claws and vanished in a hiss of smoke. Instantly, her prey began screaming, not squawking as a bird in fear but crying out in naked pain. The dragon and the bird fell to earth and slammed down onto the pebbled beach, and the dragon pulled its claws free and stalked away from the bird, circling it, staring at it. The bird writhed and gasped, shaking its huge wings and kicking feebly at the stones under its feet.
Then it lay still and gasping.
Then it died.
The dragon stared at the body.
And somewhere, a girl screamed.
Asha blinked. The world of red and white was gone and the world of blue and brown had returned. The cold spray of the ocean make her skin prickle and she shivered, wrapping her arms around her belly as her hair blew across her face. She stared down at the strange body at her feet. Nethys lay very still, except for the dark red blood glistening on her chest and neck, and the white feathers fluttering on her arms and around her face.
Bastet staggered forward and fell to her knees beside the body, her mouth open, her eyes wide. For a moment she didn’t breathe, didn’t sob, didn’t make a sound. But then it all came crashing out, and Bastet laid her head on her aunt’s belly and cried.
Asha tasted the salt spray on her lips.
I killed this woman. I murdered her, just like Set murdered Priya. I was out of control, and someone’s mother died. Anubis’s mother. This is my fault, and no one else’s. I’m no different from any of these other beasts now.
No, I am different.
I’m worse.
Set was being controlled by Lilith. He had no choice. But I had a choice. I chose to believe I could control this thing inside me. I chose to use it. I chose to unleash it.
And now this woman is dead. She died a slave. She died in agony. Because of me.
Just like him. Just like my beautiful love. My first. My fault.
Again.
Asha turned away as the tears spilled over her cheeks. She covered her mouth and felt her shoulder shaking. She squeezed her eyes shut and bowed her head. But the pain washed through her quickly this time, and she wiped her face and turned around, feeling even colder and more hollow than before.
Bastet was looking up at her, watching her.
“I’m sorry,” Asha said. “I’m so sorry.”
Bastet swallowed and nodded. She whispered, “We should send her on her way now. We need… we need wood. For the fire.”
Asha nodded back. “Yes.”
Together, they moved Nethys up away from the water’s edge and laid her on the sand in the shadow of the great lighthouse. Then they wandered apart to gather up bits of sun-bleached driftwood, which they spread under and over the body. When the pyre was ready, Asha looked at her hand, despairing at the thought up summoning up even one of the dragon’s claws, but Bastet stepped forward and brought out a little flint and striker from her pocket, and lit the fire.
They watched the flames rise and consume the winged woman, and when it was done the sea wind carried the ashes away. Then, hand in hand, they walked back along the strand around the base of the lighthouse and along the narrow streets to Jiro’s house and the ruins of his workshop. They found Taziri and Jiro sitting in the smith’s living room with a handful of tools and bits of machines scattered over the carpet between them. They looked up as the others entered.
“She’s dead,” Asha said softly.
Bastet sat down on a cushion beside Taziri and leaned against the Mazigh woman, who put her arms around the girl.
Jiro appeared unmoved by the announcement. “And the sun-steel?”
It took Asha a moment to understand his question, and then she remembered the reason for the entire tragic encounter, and she shrugged. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened to it.”
“It fell,” Bastet whispered. “Into the sea.”
The tall smith sighed and frowned. He gestured to the machine parts in front of him. “Then this is useless. I don’t have any more of the steel. I only kept that one rod.”
Bastet sniffed and said, “I know where you can find more.”
Asha sighed and shivered. “Set and Nethys. Both of Anubis’s parents, gone.”
“It’s not your fault,” Taziri said. “You didn’t cause this. You were just doing the best you could in a bad situation.”
“Isis is safe,” Bastet whispered. “We can still save her. And Horus, if we can find him.”
“Unless Anubis already found him,” Asha said. “I wonder where he is.”
“I’ll find him,” Bastet said. “I’ll tell you where to get the sun-steel, and then I’ll find him.”
Chapter 21
Anubis stood in the waist-deep grass at the top of the hill and tipped his head back to look at the noon sun. The light was blinding, but the heat was mild. He pushed his jackal’s mask back to the top of his head so he could feel the breeze on his face, and he smelled the soft scents of the flowers hidden all across the plain.
“This isn’t who I want to be,” he said softly. “This isn’t what I want to do, not to myself, and not to you.” He turned and looked down.
Horus lay flat on his back with his brother’s staff impaled through his chest, piercing his heart. The immortal’s wound oozed bright red blood all across his chest and the ground. It had been oozing for hours, soaking the earth.
Anubis sighed. “I don’t feel any better. I don’t feel any different at all. Or perhaps I feel diminished. Smaller. Fouler.” He looked at Horus again.
The falcon-headed youth lay gasping on the ground as he had been all morning. He made no motion with his scaled hands or white eyes to indicate what he might be thinking.
“Are you a beast? Am I a killer? No.” Anubis sauntered away, then turned and slowly paced back again. “We’re men who were never allowed to become men. Never allowed to reach our primes, forever confined to our youths, full of passion and foolishness. And look at us now!”
Anubis gripped his staff and watched a bit more blood pump up from his brother’s chest. “I’m going to let you up now. We’re done. It’s over, all of it. Go back to your mistress in the undercity. A merry band of heroes will be along soon to save you, I have no doubt.”
He pulled his staff out of Horus’s chest and stepped back. One last wave of blood poured out of the wound and then the skin began to knit itself closed again, bit by bit. Within moments, Horus was breathing easily and he sat up, and slowly rose to his feet.
“Go now, brother,” Anubis said. “Forgive me as I have forgiven you. Go home and wait to be saved-”
The monster struck with lightning speed, burying his talon-hands into his brother’s chest and throat. Anubis choked on his own blood and fell to his knees as his hands and feet went cold. The staff was wrenched from his grip, and then the ironwood shaft exploded through his chest. The God of Death toppled over to the ground, lying on his side with half the length of his staff before him and the other half behind. In a vague and muddled fashion, he could feel his flesh trying to close around the wound, trying to making him whole again, and failing. He could feel his heart beating weakly against the weapon splitting his ribs. He tried to speak, but he had no breath.
Between the cold in his limbs, the pain in his chest, and the blood pouring out through his chest and back, he was barely conscious when Horus bent down and tore the golden pendant from his neck, and stalked away across the plains.
Anubis slipped into the darkness, and dreamed that half his body was on fire and half was frozen in ice.
