"Your god is Anubis," Amaya noted, escorting Kaija into the living area, where a plush armchair waited for the both of them. The poor girl was trembling, but Amaya could not tell whether that was from fear or exhaustion. She waited until Amaya had taken a seat before doing so herself, and every movement was muted and unnatural.
"Yes, my lady," the Seer replied, staring resolutely at the ground. Amaya gestured to the pot of steaming Chai on the little table that sat between them, but her mortal visitor shook her head, glancing up uncertainly. Perhaps she was wondering why a goddess was offering her tea.
Amaya sighed.
"You must not fear me, child," she said softly. "I would never harm you, and my son will always protect you." Kaija nodded, another rigid movement. "Look at me," Amaya commanded, not unkindly.
Kaija's honey brown eyes met with Amaya's jade green gaze. She was a nice-looking young woman, this Seer, but misfortune and pain had begun creasing lines of weariness into her copper skin. Amaya searched past her eyes and found a surprisingly powerful thirst, a desire for alcohol that ruled over every waking thought.
"You have a problem," Amaya stated, tilting her head in sympathy. Her guest cast her gaze back to the floor in shame, but Amaya reached out and lifted her chin with a finger. "Anubis can help you." Kaija's eyes went very wide.
"He frightens me," she whispered. Amaya let a small smile curl her lips.
"Anubis likes to be feared. He thinks fear equals respect." She took a sip of her tea, registering the sweet bite of spices on her tongue. Her gaze shifted to the balcony doors, through the long, pale drapes that concealed from her the husband and child that she loved so dearly. She could see their silhouettes outlined in the Alexandria sun. Amaya wondered what it would be like to have another silhouette there, her true son. He could be childish enough when he wanted to be, and fiercely protective. He would make a good older brother. "But even so," she continued, setting down her teacup, "he would not hesitate to help you if you asked."
Kaija looked like she wanted to believe Amaya. The look on her face was so pitiful it almost brought the goddess to tears.
"Trust me, child," Amaya said, "he will help you." And then she sat up straight and took a deep breath, clearing her mind of this mortal's thirst and pain. "Now, why did Anubis send you when he could so easily have come to me himself?"
Kaija did not waste time. Her words darted straight to the point.
"I was attacked by the Medjai chief several weeks ago. He demanded any information on the Cursed One. I told him what I knew: that enmity will not be found where it is sought." Amaya nodded. Seers had no restrictions set for whom they could tell their visions to. Anyone who asked the right questions were free to hear their answers. Which was why they'd been so closely guarded in Ancient Egypt. "My lord sent me to warn you of this. It is clear that the Medjai knew of the Cursed One's presence in the living world. The only way for him to know this would be through another god."
"Seth," Amaya growled. Kaija shrank back from her. Amaya reached out without hesitation and placed her hand on Kaija's, pouring strength into her. She was a goddess, she had plenty to spare. And Kaija was a pitiful creature. "You never told me why Anubis did not come to me himself."
"I cannot be sure why, my lady. He has not contacted me since giving me his message. That was a week ago. He seemed distracted."
Amaya nodded grimly. It was extremely possible that Anubis had been following Seth. And if Seth was up to something, then Anubis would have stepped in to confront him, or perhaps taken steps to interfere with his father's plan.
"Thank you for your warning, Kaija," Amaya stood, gesturing for Kaija to do so as well. When she did, it was with strength and sturdiness. The goddess smiled. All Kaija needed was a little hope.
Amaya walked with the Seer to the door, and kissed the young woman's forehead in a blessing.
"Remember, you are a favorite of the gods," she reminded Kaija. "All you need to do is ask."
When the Seer was gone, Amaya bolted the door shut behind her and walked up to the balcony doors. She lifted the drapes aside and watched and listened as Imhotep told his daughter the Ancient Egyptian myth of the Creation of the World.
"But wouldn't the Stone of Creation be, like, the entire Earth?" Azana wondered, staring down several floors to the bustling street below.
"The land came from the Benben, but the Stone itself, a living creature, would have to be smaller, so that man could not build cities and sewers on top of it. That way it could go where it wanted." Azana giggled.
"Stones can't walk, silly." Amaya grinned. Imhotep leaned his elbows onto the balcony railing and stared off into the distance. In his crisp white shirt and khaki pants, he looked like the modern gentleman. But his eyes were ancient, and his mind was beautiful. And Amaya wouldn't trade him for anything.
"No, but people can carry them," he replied, glancing over at his little girl with an affectionate grin.
His eye caught Amaya's figure in the window, and he turned to look at her. His smile made her want to touch him, to hold him. She could almost feel his skin against hers, his body, so warm and comforting, pressed to hers.
So she opened the glass-paned balcony doors and stepped out in the brilliant Egypt sun.
"Allo mum! Dad was just telling me that stones can walk!" Azana chirped, grinning up at Imhotep like a little imp.
He laughed. "That's exactly what I was doing," he admitted, sliding over to give her a place at the balcony railing, between husband and child. She slipped her hand into his, and he blinked, as if surprised by such an open gesture of affection. Then the smiled again, and, gods, she just wanted to kiss him.
But that would have evoked another emphatic "gross!" from Azana, so she stifled the urge and settled for squeezing his hand.
"Your daughter insists upon seeing the bazaar before we start our tour," he told her in that way that parents have of deciding whether or not to do something their child wants to do, while in the presence of said child. Amaya glanced down at Azana, who stared back with an innocent smile.
"Alexandria's bazaar is world-renowned," she mused, with a 'hmm' attached to the end of her sentence.
"And she'd be able to see the cobra games," Imhotep added. Oh, those were fun to watch. Five or six men would sit in a circle around a cobra with coins scattered over its coiled body. The man with the most coins at the end of the game, assuming he was still alive, would win. Azana had gone on for days about seeing one after she'd read about them in a travel book about Alexandria.
Amaya sighed. But she was grinning.
"I suppose we could visit the bazaar tomorrow."
Azana squealed and jumped up and down, and then she wrapped her arms around Amaya's waist. Amaya stroked her daughter's inky hair. And then the girl was hugging Imhotep around his waist as well. And then she was gone, saying something about picking out an outfit and counting her money.
In the silence that followed, she could sense Imhotep's hesitation.
"What's bothering you?" She asked, leaning into him. He smelled like leather and spices. She could feel his soul against hers, old and strong. He had a truly good soul, once warped by death and magic and hate, now gentle and warm.
"I've been wondering about Azana," he said quietly. "Is she… what is she?"
Amaya shrugged. "She is part of my soul and part of your blood." She could remember the grim determination on Imhotep's face, that day in Hell, when she had saved him. He had been willing to risk her wrath to get even with the O'Connells.
"She was created when I was created?"
"When your body was created," she corrected.
"Because I had a soul. Then whose soul does she have?"
"I told you, she has my soul." Then she realized why he was having such a hard time comprehending the idea. "I never told you how gods reproduce," she said apologetically. Imhotep raised his eyebrows, but otherwise he kept his mouth shut. And whatever thoughts he had running through his head, Amaya let them be.
"A new god is born from the blood of one god and the soul of another," she explained. "Anubis was born of Seth's soul and my blood. Which means that he takes after his father, but he is bonded to me."
"He loves you more," Imhotep clarified. Amaya nodded. There was no love lost between Seth and Anubis, but deep down, son and father did love each other, if only just enough to keep them from killing each other.
"But doesn't this method only work with gods?" Amaya blinked at him.
"Of course not. Where do you think the Pharaohs came from?"
"Jackals," he teased, grinning down at her. She raised an eyebrow. But before she could reply, he leaned down and pressed his lips fiercely to hers, overwhelming her with the passion that radiated from him. Hunger awoke deep inside her, and she pressed her body close to his. Imhotep was all lithe muscle, hard and strong. She slid her hands up his chest, over his broad shoulders, leaned forward to deepen the kiss. Felt more than heard the growl that rose from deep in his throat.
"I think we should go inside," he whispered into her lips. Amaya grinned. One bed.
"Good idea."