25

WHERE GIL TURNS UP THE HEAT

I guess that’s where Gil found us, even though I didn’t wake up until the next day. I opened my eyes and found Gil hovering over me on the futon back in our town house.

“You almost died,” he said. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. His dark hair hung in greasy strands, escaped from a bad attempt to be pulled back. His face was the color of rice. And the bags under his eyes could have held a gallon of water each.

My hand went to my chest. The warmth I’d known for so long was gone. My scarab heart was dead. “Are you sure I didn’t die?”

“Pretty sure.” Gil handed me a glass of water.

I took a long drink and set the glass on the table. Lieutenant Virgil rushed forward and filled it back to the rim. I instinctively looked around for Colonel Cody.

He wasn’t there.

He’d been lost in the battle, giving his life to ensure Horemheb reached the afterworld without the knife.

Great Amun, I was going to miss the little shabti. I could almost imagine his small golden face offering to end his own existence for some ridiculous oversight. I’d counted on him for everything. He was the only one who’d never lied to me, never failed me. I’d never told him how much he meant to me. Now I’d never have the chance.

The rest of my shabti army stood at attention, with one arm crossed over the other, in concentric circles around me. They didn’t move, almost like they were truly statues instead of sentient beings.

My head spun as I sank bank into the futon. “I feel horrible.”

Gil tried to smile, but it couldn’t seem to fully form on his face. “You looked horrible when I found you.”

“Thanks,” I said. “How’s Henry?”

“He’s fine,” Gil said. “Happy to be alive.”

Would it be hard for me to adjust to my drained scarab heart? Already I felt the emptiness in my chest like a hole begging to be filled. But there was nothing to fill it with. Henry needed the energy from my heart more than I did. He would have died otherwise. And anyway, I’d been immortal an awfully long time.

“You know, what you did up there—” Gil started.

I put up my hand. “I don’t want to talk about it.” Maybe I’d want to in the future, but right now, I felt too … empty. Even though I’d never have changed what I’d done for anything.

“If you ever do…”

I forced out a smile. “I’ll let you know. Did Horus make it back yet?”

Gil’s face tensed. He was actually worried about Horus, too. “I haven’t heard anything from him.” And then he looked away.

“What?” I shifted on the futon and felt sweat start to bead up on my forehead. I motioned Major Rex forward. He seemed to be in charge now that Colonel Cody was gone.

He ran to me and bowed. “Yes, Great Master?”

“Would you mind opening a window?”

Major Rex bowed again and snapped his fingers. It was nice to know they still loved me, even if I wasn’t immortal anymore.

Two shabtis opened the window and cool air blew into the town house. But I kept sweating.

Gil let out a deep breath and spoke. “It’s all my fault.”

I shook my head. “Nothing’s your fault.”

“I’m supposed to protect you,” Gil said, ignoring my words.

“No,” I said. “If anyone’s to blame for anything, it’s me. Henry was about to die, all because I let him get too close. I should have never become friends with him in the first place.”

“Tut, having friends is never something to regret,” Gil said. “You’re the best friend Henry’s ever had.”

Drowsiness was starting to cloud my mind. “How do you know that?”

“He told me,” Gil said.

“When?” I asked.

“This morning while you were still asleep,” Gil said. “Henry recovered quickly.”

“He came by?” I asked.

Gil shook his head. “No, he called. He’s afraid to come over.”

“Afraid?” I narrowed my eyes. “Why?”

“Because he thinks you’ll regret what you did,” Gil said. “He thinks you’ll be sorry and never want to see him again.”

I opened my mouth to say something, but stopped. Sure, part of me did regret it. Losing my immortality. My future. But it was the only thing to do. It’s what a friend would do. And I was Henry’s friend.

“It’s not Henry’s fault,” I said. “I made the decision, and even if it’s a change, I’ll get used to it. Maybe I should go see him.” I stood up, but the change in elevation made stars spin in my head. Gil caught me and settled me back on the futon. I wiped sweat off my forehead, but our town house had gone from warm to downright hot.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Gil said. “This will be my last failure.”

“Failure!” I said. “You never fail at anything.”

Gil put on a wry smile and sighed. “I’ve lived my life as one constant failure after another. I ruined tons of people’s lives. My best friend died because I was stupid and selfish and only thought of myself. I lost the throne. And then that kid died.”

“I’m as much to blame for that as you,” I said.

Gil ignored me. “I’ve always felt like no matter how much good I do, I’ll never be able to balance it all out.” He grabbed my shoulders and looked me in the eye. “Now I’ve failed you. And I will make this up to you, Tut. I swear it on my mother’s name.”

My eyelids started to droop at that point. Maybe being mortal, I’d get tired more often.

“You don’t have anything to make up,” I said. “And could you turn down the heat?”

“No. I don’t think so.”

I tried to force my eyes wide at that point, because the tone of his voice clued me in to the fact that something was seriously wrong. But heat descended on the town house. I realized, even through my drowsy mind, where it was coming from.

“What are you doing, Gil?”

Gil smiled, and clarity like I hadn’t seen in ages moved onto his face. “Don’t you know?”

I sat up, but the heat kept coming—from Gil. He was turning the entire town house into an oven. The shabtis ran over, ostrich fans in hand, but one look from Gil and they stopped in their tracks.

I knew what he planned to do then.

“Stop it now,” I said. “This isn’t what I want.”

Gil held up the golden knife. “You don’t have a choice. I said I’d make it up to you, and it’s what I’m going to do.”

Inside my chest, my human heart started to pound. And Gil’s scarab heart started to glow. I fought to keep my eyes open, but the heat was too much. The last thing I remember seeing was Gil talking to the shabtis. For a moment I wondered if they wouldn’t listen to him, since they thought he was a heathen. But then I realized they would. They’d want to help me as much as Gil wanted to. I opened my mouth again, thinking I could tell them to hold Gil back, but words wouldn’t come out.