19

WHERE I DISCOVER THE FUTURE OF THE WORLD

The tunnel ended at a door, and through the door was a hallway. All signs of the river and underground cavern disappeared. Even the humidity vanished, as if moisture was being sucked from the air. Pretty soon I was sneaking down hallways that looked like the basement of some office building, except for the fact that at every possible place imaginable, be it alcove or wall or floor, there were images of Set. Seriously, how many icons did Set need? It’s not like he was a good-looking god or anything. With a head like that, I wouldn’t want my face plastered all over every wall and ceiling.

I kept moving, peering in each side corridor, but most led to dead ends or storage closets. I came to an interior window and ducked under it to peek inside. It was some kind of lab, and there was an army of people in scrubs working with test tubes and needles and chemicals. I had no clue what they were doing, and I didn’t want to find out.

I continued down the corridor, but when I heard voices off to my right, I turned left the first chance I got. Ahead of me was a wooden door four times as tall as I was. And no, I was not short. It reminded me of doors like we used to have back in my palace in Egypt. I crept forward and placed my ear to it, but there was no sound from inside. So I pushed on it and it swung open.

It was like I was back in ancient Egypt. I mean, everything reminded me of my palace back when I’d been pharaoh. There was a royal bed, a spotted cheetah sofa at the foot of the bed, a statue of Anubis up near the headboard. The curtains around the bed were drawn back and a fake skylight even cast light down from above. Torches had been lit and placed on the walls, lighting up every treasure around the place. But instead of images of me like there had been back when I was on the throne, Horemheb’s face was plastered everywhere. This had to be his room. Just the thought made me want to take a shower.

My side twinged and I lifted my shirt. The red scar flared, which was weird because it should have been completely healed. It had almost vanished after Isis healed me. I pressed on the scar. At least it didn’t hurt.

I shifted my attention to a golden desk that was pushed up against the far wall. Lying on top of it was a full-color drawing of a pyramid about half the size of the Great Pyramid of Giza. It glistened in gold, and at its peak sat a crystal larger than a sarcophagus. The strangest thing about it—no, scratch that. There were two really strange things about it. First, the date at the top right of the drawing read, YEAR ONE: FIRST REVIVAL DYNASTY. And second, there were some hieroglyphs sketched around the base of the pyramid. Most of them were general stuff anyone could find in the Book of the Dead. But the one that caught my eye was this one:

I knew these hieroglyphs as well as I knew my own name, and for a good reason. They were my name. Tutankhamun. The pyramid was for me.

I lifted the top drawing and found more spread across the desk. My scarab heart skipped as I recognized the giant golden pyramid as the main feature on the sketches. But the sketches were of more than just the pyramid. They showed an entire city with the pyramid at its center. And not just any city. They showed Washington, D.C. I’d lived here long enough to recognize it anywhere—even with all sorts of Egyptian structures drawn overtop already existing buildings. The pyramid was on the Mall near the Archives building, and where Capitol Hill currently stood was drawn an obelisk twice as high as the Washington Monument. On the side of the obelisk a giant scarab had been inscribed. And where the White House normally sat just north of the giant Ellipse park was a palace with all kinds of columns and Egyptian statues instead.

Did the Cult of Set seriously think they could build Egyptian stuff all over the District?

With each second that passed, the unease doubled inside me. The Cult of Set was creepy, sure. But this place, with its natron-filled sarcophagus and subterranean medical laboratory, felt sinister. There was so much going on here, and I had no idea what it all was.

I had to find the knife, eliminate Horemheb, and then get the heck out of here.

The door opened. I jumped halfway across the room, scattering the sketches everywhere.

“Scared?” Tia asked.

Thank Amun it was only her. Horemheb catching me here could not end up good. At least not until I got the knife.

I tried to calm my heart—which had also jumped out of control. “I don’t get scared.”

Tia raised an eyebrow. “Not even of Set?”

“Please. I’m an immortal. What would I have to worry about?”

“Getting your heart cut out?” she said.

Yeah, there was that.

She pulled me from the room and shut the door behind us. “What part of stay by the river didn’t you understand?” she asked after she led me to a side hallway off the main corridor.

“You were late,” I said. “I got bored.”

She balled her hands into fists of frustration. “Not so smart, Tut. Did it even occur to you once that there might be a security system around here?”

Um, no. So I hadn’t given it a thought. I’d been too focused on the knife.

I pressed my palm to my forehead. Security could be on their way here right now. “Do your brothers know I’m here?”

“Not yet,” she said. “I managed to sabotage the video footage.”

“I guess I should thank you for that?”

“Yes, you should.” Tia whipped her head around, looking behind us to make sure no one was following. I got a huge whiff of her lotus blossom perfume. Just the scent of it helped clear my mind of my growing list of problems.

“Um, thanks,” I said, and then I noticed her hair. “Wasn’t the streak in your hair blue earlier?”

Tia reached up and grabbed it, almost like she was trying to cover it. “Maybe.”

“It’s orange now,” I said, stating the obvious.

“Yeah, so what about it?”

“Were you coloring your hair?” I said. “Is that why you were late? You left me by the river with your crazy brothers running around trying to capture me, and you went off to color your hair?”

Tia lowered her hand and met my eye. “I color it every day. If I skipped, they might notice. And if they noticed, they might think something was wrong. And if they thought something was wrong, it might make them suspicious.”

She’d obviously given the whole hair-coloring thing lots of thought. And seeing as how she was allegedly trying to help me, I decided not to press the issue.

“It looks nice,” I said, forcing myself not to look down, even though my whole face heated up.

Tia’s mouth sweetened into an amazing smile. “Thanks, Tut.”

“You’re welcome,” I said, clearing my throat. “So are you going to show me where the knife is, or what?”

She leaned toward me, maybe a little closer than she needed to. Or maybe that was my imagination. “I said I would. But first you have to promise to help me.”

I attempted to get my brain back on the task at hand. “With what?”

“A quest.”

I busted out laughing. “Oh, come on. What kind of quest?”

Tia didn’t laugh. “A quest to reunite the gods.”

I realized she was serious. Not to mention ridiculous.

“What do you mean, reunite the gods?” I said. “Half of them hate each other, and the other half think that half don’t deserve to be gods in the first place. Controversy is a pillar of their existence.”

“Exactly!” Tia’s face beamed with excitement as she spoke. “They need to put all that aside. They need to be reunited. And the time for that is now. This is the dawn of a new age.”

I narrowed my eyes. Tia was crazy if she thought her plan was even possible. “And you’re the one who’s going to do that?”

“Why not me?” Tia said.

“Because you’re not immortal,” I said.

“And that’s a requirement?” Tia asked.

I figured since it was an unattainable task, there were no defined requirements.

“Okay, fine. You want to reunite the gods. What’s your plan for this great reunification?”

Tia’s eyes lit up and she started holding out the different pendants from around her neck. “I steal sacred items of each of the gods. You know every god has one specific item that is the primary source of their power. Each item I get, I deliver to … well, I can’t tell you that part because I’m sworn to secrecy.”

“By who?”

“Didn’t you just hear me?” Tia said. “I can’t tell you. Anyway, once I get all these sacred objects, the power of the gods will weaken until they have no choice but to seek them out. And when they do, the … person … I’m working with will call the gods to order and only restore their power once they agree to new terms.”

“And these new terms are getting along?” It was a ridiculous plan. So ridiculous that I wondered if it could actually work.

“Exactly,” Tia said, smiling because I got it. Like with the hair coloring, she’d given this god-reuniting plan a bunch of thought, too. “So are you going to help me or not?”

Helping her with her quest did mean I’d get to spend a little extra time with her. And I’d get the knife. But stealing stuff from the gods? I wasn’t sure I wanted to get mixed up in that. Gods got angry. And held grudges for millennia.

Sort of like me. I’d been holding hatred against Horemheb in my heart for thousands of years. The difference was that my grudge was totally legitimate. He’d given me a reason to hate him. He’d killed my family and taken away my entire world.

“I don’t know,” I said. “The gods will get pretty upset if you start taking things from them.”

“They’ll never know who took them,” Tia said. “And anyway, you’re not getting your precious little knife unless you promise to help me.”

That was the important carrot being dangled in front of me.

“Fine.” I figured that, since hanging around with Tia was awesome, I could at least go along with her plan.

“Perfect,” she said. “Just follow my lead.”

The way Tia moved made me think this wasn’t the first time she’d snuck around. She evaded cameras, pointing them out as we went, and took back hallways all around the place. As the darkness closed in, I followed her in silence. When she turned, I turned. When she stopped, I stopped. The last thing I wanted to do was get lost. With the maze of corridors she led me through, I’d never find my way anywhere without her.

“Why are you so good at sneaking around?” I asked. Marble columns surrounded us at every turn, and the black tile floor was shellacked so deeply, I could see my reflection in it. And along the walls, myths had been painted—except they all seemed to show Set being victorious over some other god—most of the time Horus.

“My brothers,” she said.

“You hide from them?”

“Only when they’re trying to kill me.”

“You’re kidding.…”

“Do you really think so?” Tia said.

Given the whole mummification talk, I guessed she wasn’t lying.

“So how many people are in your psychotic cult anyway?” I asked after we hid from five guys who were polishing the floors.

“Whatever, Tut. It’s not like Horus is any better than Set.”

“Set killed his brother,” I said.

“Set is misunderstood.”

Misunderstood was not the word I’d use to describe Set. Fratricidally sadistic was way more appropriate.

“Anyway, there are enough,” she said. “At least enough for my brother’s plans.”

“To take over D.C.?” I laughed. “Like that’s going to happen.”

“Crazier things have happened in the past,” Tia said. “And Seti 142-A is sure the world is ready for a change. That’s why my plan has to work. We can’t have Set, or any Egyptian god, for that matter, taking over D.C.”

Her plan did make sense—if there was any chance it would work. I kind of liked the world just like it was—minus Horemheb. I didn’t want to see it change and have the world become a plaything of the gods.

We ended up in an atrium. In the center sat a building that looked like the crown jewel of the whole complex. It towered above every other structure and reminded me a lot of an oversized Lincoln Memorial: square with giant columns and a ton of steps. Trees of all sorts lined the perimeter, placed in stone urns, each big enough for Horus’s four sons to sit in. And instead of a statue of Abraham Lincoln sitting at the top of the stairs, a giant sculpture of Set stood in its place.

Over the years, I’d seen various incarnations of Set. Thank the gods I’d never seen him in all his flesh-and-blood godliness. But the incarnation in front of me now was the most ferocious, venomous, deadly image of the god I’d ever seen.

He stood thirty feet tall, had clawed hands and feet, and muscles popping out of places I never knew muscles could pop out of. He held a sickle with a blade sharp enough to slice passing dust particles in half. And his face drew my eyes and held them. The fanged teeth were bared, protruding from the snout nose.

“Nice statue,” I said.

Tia immediately put her finger to her mouth in a shushing motion. I couldn’t help but notice how pretty her lips were. Inwardly, I groaned. I was getting more pathetic by the second. So I filled my mind with thoughts of demolishing Horemheb. It was really going to happen. But my thoughts got the better of me, and flowers and leaves started sprouting on the trees nearby.

“What are you doing?” Tia ran to the nearest tree and clamped her hand over the new growth, attempting to hold it back. But branches and leaves pushed through her fingers.

I swore inwardly and tried to turn off my godly power. “I can’t help it.”

“You better learn to help it soon, or we’ll get caught,” she said.

“Would you get in trouble, too?” I said, trying to be funny, even as I tried to focus on controlling my supernatural powers.

Tia glared at me. “Just stop the flower thing, okay?”

“I’m trying.” And I was. Ten deep breaths later, all the new growth had come to a halt.

“Good,” she whispered.

I wondered how long I could keep control of the plant situation. Hopefully until I got the knife and cut out Horemheb’s polluted heart. We climbed the steps, hiding in the shadows. I hoped she knew what she was doing.

“Who’s there?” a voice called.

Both Tia and I froze mid-step.

“I said who’s there?”

I peeked around a column, not daring to breathe. A priest wearing a fake Set head stood inside the temple, near the altar. His ears reached a foot tall each, and fangs had been painted in bright red around his mouth. On top of the altar was a golden bowl that was big enough to bathe Horus in—not that I’d ever given Horus a bath—oh, except for that one time back in ancient Mongolia, but he’d sworn me to secrecy about the whole thing. The priest took a step toward us, even though we were hidden. Behind him, ten flowers bloomed on a fig tree.

“Ungrow them.” I could hardly hear Tia’s words between her clenched teeth.

“I can’t ungrow them,” I whispered back. “Plants don’t work that way.”

“Is anyone there?” the priest called again.

Neither of us moved.

An excruciating minute passed. I was sure we’d be caught any second. I barely held control of my powers. They threatened to explode with each second. Finally the priest shook his Set head and turned back to the altar.

The flowers on the fig tree burst into full bloom.

The priest tensed. I forced myself not to breathe, knowing at any second he’d call out the whole Cult of Set security force. There was no way that would end in my favor.

He stepped from the altar and slowly circled the room. Tia’s hand grabbed my arm and her fingernails dug into my skin. I’m not sure if she was trying to help matters or whether she was just nervous. I held my breath.

After what felt like an eternity longer than my immortal lifetime, the priest said a prayer to Set, then left the temple.

The second he was out of sight I relaxed, and in a final burst, every tree in the place blossomed. Bugs crawled from the walls, spilling out onto the floor. Flies filled the air, clustering around the lights like shadows.

“That was way too close,” Tia said. “Control yourself.”

“Get your fingernails out of my flesh.”

Blood pooled under each of her nails. Tia instantly let go and I passed my hand over the wounds, channeling energy from my scarab heart and healing them over.

“And stop showing off,” she said. But the torches around the temple gave off enough light that I could see she was impressed.

“One of the benefits of immortality,” I said.

“Can you heal this?” She pulled her sleeve up and held out her arm, causing her bracelets to hang low over her hand. A red line ran from her elbow to her wrist, just barely scabbed over. It looked like someone had cut her with a knife.

“How’d you get that?” I reached out and touched it, pushing her bracelets out of the way.

“A fight,” she said.

I’d lived long enough to know there was way more to it than that.

“Something to do with your quest?” I asked.

Tia nodded. “The last object I tried to steal. I almost got caught.”

“What was it?” I asked, tracing my fingers over the cut on her arm.

“Did you forget about the secrecy thing?”

Her and her secrets. “Can you at least tell me if you got it?”

She scowled. “I didn’t get it. But I will next time.”

I let go of her arm even though I kind of enjoyed holding it. “I can’t heal other people. Just myself. I’m sorry.” And I really was. It was a great power, being able to heal myself. But it also felt kind of selfish. Like I should be able to do more for other people but never could.

“It’s okay. It will heal on its own.” Tia pulled her sleeve back down and pointed to the altar. “Anyway, your knife is up there.”

“In the bowl?”

She nodded.

“But that’s so easy,” I said. Amun, I could have found that on my own with a little more time to look around.

“It’s protected by a deadly weapon,” Tia said. “So be careful.”

“What kind of weapon?” I asked. Why couldn’t anything be easy?

“A deadly one,” Tia said, enunciating the word deadly as if to say, Didn’t you hear me the first time, moron?

I rolled my eyes. “Thanks.”

“Good luck,” she said. “And hurry up.”

I tried to still my nerves, but insects continued to pour into the room. I needed the knife. And anyway, how deadly could the weapon be? I was immortal.

When I got within two steps of the altar, I heard the voice.

“Tutankhamun.”

It was so soft that I thought it was a whisper. But when it came again, I realized it wasn’t even a whisper; it was in my mind.

“Tutankhamun.” A red glow escaped from the bowl along with the scent of burning cinnamon.

I took another step and reached out, wanting to touch the light. I inhaled the smell, and things started to get a little fuzzy.

“Tutankhamun,” the voice said again. Along with my name, it started pushing something through my mind. Or pulling. Memories began to flow.

I was back in my palace, running like a wild child through the halls, getting in the way of every servant I passed. I’d never been raised to be pharaoh. That was always going to be my brother, Smenkhkare’s, job. I got to do whatever I wanted. Play in the mud. Skip out on boring formal events. Smenk, on the other hand, was the one who had all the instruction. He was the one with the prearranged marriage. He was the one who had to spend his childhood sitting in on important meetings with our father. And he was also the first one killed.

I’d been the one to discover his body. I’d run into his rooms in what was just one more attempt to get him to play with me. But when I pushed the doors open, even though it was midmorning, Smenk was still in bed. I tried to shake him. He didn’t wake. I tried harder, calling his name and trying to lift him up, but his body fell limp back to the bed. Smenk blurred in my vision and my eyes got really watery. He wouldn’t get up.

I screamed at him. Kicked him. He never moved.

It was my cries that had drawn the palace guard. An investigation had been made. But no foul play had been found. I was only five at the time, and in my mind, my brother was perfect and cool and awesome. Everything a big brother should be. Except he was dead.

*   *   *

My memories shifted, and I sat with my mother in the palm house. Life sure changed after my brother’s death. I had all sorts of responsibilities. All kinds of training. I was destined to be pharaoh after my father, but I had no clue how to rule a country. I had tutors for every subject possible, so education took up the bulk of each day. I had to learn manners and foreign languages and how to be a good moral judge. It hurt my head. Most of it I hated.

My mom knew exactly how I felt and insisted I get time with her each day. We’d spend our time in the palm house, which was connected through a breezeway to the main palace. It was our special place, and when we were there, no one else was allowed in. The servants would bring us a light snack, most of which I would feed to the fish. My mom would tell me stories while I played in the pond and studied the plants. I would pretend I had important tasks to do, cataloguing the different species, just so she would stay with me a bit longer. She always went along with my games. She told me of all the magnificent things I would do when I became pharaoh. How wise and just I’d be. I believed her.

I remembered the day her voice fell silent. She’d been telling me a story about how the world was created with a cosmic egg. Even though it was a long story about religion, which had never been my favorite subject, the way my mom told it had me laughing and crying in the span of minutes. She’d just finished a particularly sad part. I thought she was taking a break. Having a sip of wine. I kept feeding the fish and hid my tears so she wouldn’t think I was weak.

When she didn’t begin talking again, I looked in her direction. She lay slumped over on the bench.

“Mother!” I rushed to her side.

“I don’t feel so well, Tut,” she said. “I need help.”

It was too late by the time I got help. My mother was dead.

Horemheb had been behind it. He’d been in control of the death reports. It was no wonder foul play had never been found. I should have been suspicious because, when my tears fell into the pond, all the fish were dead, too … from the food I’d been feeding them.

*   *   *

My mind shifted again, but this time it was no memory. I stared down at my own dead body, laid out in the sarcophagus made of granite. Natron covered every part of me except my face. Even though I was dead, my entire body ached, like all my insides had been pulled out while I was still alive. Like somehow I was dead in the sarcophagus and yet still alive.

“You will die, Tutankhamun,” the voice in my head said. “You will fail at everything in life and then you will die. You are a failure. You are worthless. You are the reason your family is dead.”

It was my worst fear.

This wasn’t real.

This wasn’t going to happen.

And I’d had enough.

*   *   *

I pushed the images away. They came back with twice the strength, nearly dropping me to the ground with the horror of emotions they brought. Memories from my past and visions from my future flooded me. I pushed harder against them. Failure. Worthless. The words were repeated over and over again.

I was not a failure. I was not going to be a part of these visions. And I didn’t have time for games.

I plunged my hands into the golden liquid. It began to coil and twist like liquid mercury. I tried to pull my hands out, but they were locked in place. The golden liquid seeped into my pores. I tried to push it out, but it was no use. It burrowed inside me. And then it was gone.

At the bottom of the empty bowl lay the knife. Three gemstones decorated the hilt, and the blade was pure gold. The only time I’d seen it had been in Horemheb’s unworthy hand in the cemetery.

Now it was within my reach.

I grabbed the knife and held it victoriously over my head. I would have my revenge.