Hey guys! Here's a nice long chapter in a feeble attempt to make up for my typical long periods of not updating. I know, I suck. But I hope you, enjoy the chapter anyway! Let me know what you think about having a long chapter and keeping the original chapters all together. Does it make it more cohesive or does it just drag?
Also, there is a comment in here about the gods being genderfluid in a way. I know this isn't canon, but it makes sense to me. I mean they shift into animals and half human half animals all the time. Why wouldn't they switch other things? It happens frequently in other mythologies. IDK. To me, it seemed interesting, but I did not want to offend anyone.
Comments:
Imasurvivor21: Thank you again for you review! Sorry about all the pronoun mistakes. I don't have anyone to read over the stuff I write and I usually am writing as quick as I can in order to make up long periods of absence, so when I post something, it's pretty much a first draft. When I have time, I'll go through and fix all the mistakes, I promise. Hopefully there's no mistakes in this, but there probably will be.
Merendinoemiliano: Yay! Thank you so much! This is all of chapter five, so hopefully you'll enjoy having the chapter all together. Let me know. I hope you enjoy, and thank you again!
Chapter 5
It's Carla again. Sorry about the delay, though now that I'm thinking about it, you won't be able to tell on the tape.. We had to turn it off for a while because we were being followed by—well, we'll get to that later.
Samuel was telling you how we left London, right? Well anyway, we followed Amos down to the weird boat docked at the quayside. I cradled Moms's workbag under my arm; the familiar object seemed like the only stable thing I had. Even my suitcase had been confiscated. I still couldn't believe she was gone. I felt guilty leaving London without her, but I believed Amos about one thing: Mom was beyond our help. At this rate, we were lucky to not be in hail much less rescuing my Mom from some interdimensional portal of a sarcophagus.
I didn't trust Amos as far as I could throw her, but I figured if I wanted to find out what had happened to Mom, I was going to have to go along with her. She was the only one who seemed to know anything. I don't know if Samuel had the tact to pretend or if the fact that she was our "aunt" was enough to sway him.
Amos stepped aboard the reed boat, making it sway slightly. Samuel jumped right on, but I hesitated. I'd seen boats like this on the Nile before, and they never seemed very sturdy. It was basically woven together from coils of plant fiber—like a giant floating carpet. Plus, the giant torches on the front made the entire thing a floating fire hazard. It would be just our luck to burn surrounded by water.
At the back, the tiller was seemed to be manned by a little guy wearing Amos's black trench coat and hat. The hat was shoved down so far on his head so I couldn't see his face. His hands and feet were lost in the folds of the coat.
"How does this thing move?" I asked Amos. "You've got no sail or oars."
"Trust me." Amos said, and offered me a hand. The night was cold, but when I stepped on board I suddenly felt warmer, as if the torchlight were emitting the heat of a small oven. In the middle of the boat was a hut made from woven mats. From Samuel's arms, Cupcake sniffed at it and shunk back, growling.
"Take a seat inside," Amos suggested. "The trip might be a little rough."
"I'll stand, thanks." I replied, unwilling to leave Samuel alone with Amos.
Samuel nodded at the little guy in back. "Who's your driver?" Amos acted as if she hadn't heard the question.
"Hang on, everyone!" She nodded towards the steersman and, without further prompting, the boat lurched forward. The feeling was hard to describe. You know that dropping feeling in your stomach when you're on a roller coaster and it goes into free fall? The moment when you think, "Holy crow, I might die", and it causes a high of adrenaline and mixed with nausea? It was kind of like that, except were stationary and the feeling didn't go away.
The boat moved with astounding speed. The lights of the city blurred, then gave way to a thick fog. Strange sounds echoed in the dark: slithering and hissing, distant screams, voices whispering in languages I didn't understand. The nausea increased in intensity. The sounds got louder, until I was about to scream myself. It felt like the entire world was spinning around me, on the verge of collapse.
Then suddenly the boat slowed. The noises stopped, and the fog dissipated. City lights came back, brighter than before. Above us loomed a bridge, much taller than any bridge in London. My stomach did a slow roll. To my left, I saw a familiar skyline.
"That's impossible," I muttered. "That's New York. Look! That's the Cryselter Building… And there's the Empire State Building."
Samuel looked as green as I felt. He was still cradling Cupcake, who seemed to be the only one, besides Amos, who was unaffected by the travel. He lay content in Samuel's arms, and was even purring slightly.
"It can't be," Samuel argued. "We've barely traveled five minutes."
And yet there we were, sailing up the East River, right under the Williamsburg Bridge. We glided to a stop next to a small dock on the Brooklyn side of the river. In front of us was an industrial yard filled with piles of scrap metal and old construction equipment. In the center of it all, right at the water's edge, rose a huge factory warehouse heavily painted with graffiti, the windows boarded up.
"That is not a mansion," Samuel said. His powers of perception were impeccable.
"Look again." Amos pointed to the top of the building. I sent a cursory glance towards the building again, not expecting to see any change, and was shocked.
"How...how did you..." My voice failed me. I wasn't sure why I hadn't seen it before, but now it was obvious: a five-story mansion adorned the roof of the warehouse, gleaming in the light like a star on a Christmas tree. It should have been impossible to miss, but somehow, neither of us had seen it before.
"You couldn't build a mansion up there!" I exclaimed, mouth agape. "I mean, logistics aside, no way zoning codes would allow for it. That thing can't be stable.
"Long story, which will all be explained to you in time" Amos said. "But we needed a private location, and as you've seen, I can be very… persuasive."
"It's on the east shore," Samuel pointed out. I assumed he figured it out by the fact that the sun was setting opposite us, but I couldn't think of the significance of it. I'll never understand why men use cardinal directions all the time. Seriously. Ask a guy for directions, and 9 times out of 10 he'll say to "Head east" or "South-west". Ask most girls, they'll say "Go that way till you see the funny shaped building."
"You said something about that in London—my grandparents living on the east shore." he continued, and I nodded in recognition.
Amos smiled, her eyes glowing with approval. "Yes. Very good, Samuel. In ancient times, the east bank of the Nile was always the side of the living, the side where the sun rises. The dead were buried west of the river. It was considered bad luck, even dangerous, to live there. The tradition is still strong among...our people."
"Our people?" I asked, mentally running through our heritage, but Samuel muscled in with another question.
"So you can't live in Manhattan?" he asked. Amos's brow furrowed as she looked across at the Empire State Building. Her mouth tightened, but I couldn't tell whether it was from fear or annoyance.
"Manhattan has other problems. Other gods. It's best we stay separate."
"Other what?!" Samuel demanded. In my travels with Mom, I had seen many different religions. But it was rare for someone who lived in New York to practice paganism or any other religion with multiple deities. America was pretty good at silencing people who didn't conform to the 'standard' way of living.
Amos ignored him and walked past us to the steersman. She plucked off the man's hat and coat—revealing nothing but air underneath. The steersman simply wasn't there. Amos put on her fedora, draped her coat over her arm, then waved toward a metal staircase that wound all the way up the side of the warehouse to the mansion on the roof.
"All ashore," she said. "And welcome to the Twenty-first Nome."
"Gnome?" I asked, as we followed him up the stairs. "Like those little runty guys people put in gardens?"
"Heavens, no," Amos said. "I hate gnomes. They smell horrible and have absolutely no manners. The more that get turned to stone, the better."
"But you said—"
"Nome, n-o-m-e. As in a district, a region. The term is from ancient times, when Egypt was divided into forty-two provinces. Today, the system is a little different. We've gone global. The world is divided into three hundred and sixty nomes. Egypt, of course, is the First. Greater New York is the Twenty-first."
Samuel glanced at me and twirled her finger around her temple.
"No, Samuel," Amos said without looking back. "I'm not crazy. There's just much you need to learn."
We reached the top of the stairs, both Samuel and I breathing a bit heavily. Looking up at the mansion, it was hard to understand what I was seeing. The house was at least fifty feet tall, built of enormous limestone blocks and steel-framed windows. There were hieroglyphs engraved around the windows, and the walls were lit up so the place looked like a cross between a modern museum and an ancient temple.
But the weirdest thing was, the entire building acted like those holographic pictures. If I looked straight at it, I could see every detail of the place. But if I so much as glanced away, the whole building seemed to disappear. I tried it several times just to be sure. If I looked for the mansion from the corner of my eye, it wasn't there. I had to force my eyes to refocus on it, and even that took a lot of willpower. It was almost as if it didn't want to be seen- but it was a building!
Amos stopped before the entrance, which was the size of a garage door—a dark heavy square of timber with no visible handle or lock.
"Carla, after you."
"Um, how do I—" There should have been no way to open the door. There were no hinges or cracks. Nothing but a blank wall with some framing.
"How do you think?" Great, another mystery. I was about to suggest we ram Amos's head against it and see if that worked. Then I looked at the door again, and I had the strangest feeling. I took a steadying breath and pushed outward with both hands, as if I were pushing open a large set of double doors. Suddenly, a large line split the center of the door, and both halves swung in. Samuel looked as stunned as I felt.
"How..." he muttered, making vague pushing gestures with his hands.
"I don't know," I admitted, a little embarrassed. "Motion sensor, maybe?"
"Interesting." Amos sounded a little troubled. It was as if she wanted me to fail the test. "Not the way I would've done it, but very good. Remarkably good."
"Thanks, I think."
Samuel tried to go inside first, but as soon as he stepped on the threshold, Cupcake wailed and almost clawed his way out of Samuel's arms. Samuel faltered, nearly dropping the cat and moved backwards.
"What the heck was all that, cat?"
"Oh, of course," Amos said. "My apologies, Cupcake. It slipped my mind." She put her hand on the cat's head and said, very formally, "I give you permission to enter."
"The cat needs permission?" I asked.
"Special circumstances," Amos said, which wasn't much of an explanation, but she walked inside as if it was. We followed, and this time Cupcake stayed quiet.
"Oh my god..." Samuel's jaw dropped. He craned his neck to look at the ceiling, his gun dangerously close to falling out of his mouth.
"Indeed," Amos said. "This is the Great Room."
The name definitely suited the room. The cedar-beamed ceiling was four stories high, held up by carved stone pillars engraved with hieroglyphs. An odd assortment of modern and ancient musical instruments and Ancient Egyptian weapons decorated the walls. Three levels of balconies ringed the room, with rows of doors all looking out on the main area. The fireplace was big enough to park a car in, with a giant flat screen TV looming above the mantel and massive leather sofas on either side.
On the floor was a snakeskin rug. It was surprisingly realistic for the fake it had to be at forty feet long and fifteen feet wide—bigger than any snake. Outside, through glass walls, I could see the terrace that wrapped around the house. It had a swimming pool, a dining area, and a blazing fire pit. And at the far end of the Great Room was a set of double doors marked with the Eye of Horus, and chained with half a dozen padlocks. I wondered what could possibly be behind them to warrant such security.
But the real showstopper was the statue in the center of the Great Room. It was thirty feet tall, made of black marble. I could tell it was of an Egyptian goddess because the figure had a human body and an animal's head—like a stork or a crane, with a long neck and a really long beak. The goddess was dressed in typical ancient egyptian attire, with long flowing robes and a heavy collar, her arms adorned with many bracelets. She held a scribe's stylus in one hand, and an open scroll in the other, as if she had just written the hieroglyphs inscribed there: an ankh—the Egyptian looped cross—with a rectangle traced around its top.
"That's it!" Samuel exclaimed. "Per Ankh."
I stared at him in disbelief. I could believe Samuel would do a lot of crazy things, but I had never expected studying ancient languages to be one of them.
"All right, I'll bite. How you can read that?" I barely recognized the ankh and I had spent years with Mom.
"I don't know," he said. "But it's obvious, isn't it? The top one is shaped like the floor plan of a house."
"How did you get that? It's just a box, minus one side." The thing was, he was right. I looked harder at it and recognized the symbol, and it was supposed to be a simplified picture of a house with a doorway. But that wouldn't be obvious to most people, especially people named Samuel. Yet he looked absolutely positive.
"It's a house," he insisted. "And the bottom picture is the ankh, the symbol for life. Per Ankh—the House of Life."
"Very good, Samuel." Amos looked impressed. "And this is a statue of the only god still allowed in the House of Life—at least, normally. Do you recognize her, Carter?"
Just then it clicked: the bird was an ibis, an Egyptian river bird. "Thoth," I said. "The god of knowledge. She invented writing. But isn't Toth usually like, you know, a guy?"
"Indeed," Amos said. "But the gods are not stationary beings. They're more ideas. And besides, gender has never been concrete, even in ancient societies. Indeed, the gods were known to shift forms often, even bordering the gap between nature and humanity."
"Is that why they have animal heads?" Samuel asked. "They look so silly."
"They don't normally appear that way- half and half," Amos said. "Not in real life anyway."
"Real life?" I asked. "Come on. You sound like you've met them in person."
Amos's expression hardening didn't reassure me. She looked as if she were remembering something unpleasant.
"The gods could appear in many forms—usually fully human or fully animal, but occasionally as a hybrid form like this. They are primal forces, you understand. They are depicted with animal heads to show that they exist in two different worlds at once. Do you understand?"
"Not even a little," Samuel said.
"Mmm." Amos sighed, but didn't sound surprised. "Yes, we have much training to do. At any rate, the god before you, Thoth, founded the House of Life, for which this mansion is the regional headquarters. Or at least...it used to be. I'm the only member left in the Twenty-first Nome. Or I was, until you two came along."
"Hang on." I had so many questions I could hardly think where to start. "What is the House of Life? Why is Thoth the only god allowed here? What do you mean 'until we came along'? Is this some initiation? And why are you—"
"Carla, breath. I understand how you feel." Amos smiled sympathetically. "But these things are better discussed in daylight. You need to get some sleep, and I don't want you to have nightmares."
"You think I can sleep?"
"Mrow." Cupcake stretched in Samuel's arms and let loose a huge yawn. At least someone was unaffected by all the weirdness of today. Amos clapped her hands.
"Khufu!" I almost wished her 'bless you' at what sounded like a sneeze, because Khufu is a weird name, but then a little dude about three feet tall with gold fur and a purple shirt came clambering down the stairs. It took me a second to realize it was a baboon wearing an L.A. Lakers jersey. The baboon did a flip and landed in front of us. She showed off her fangs and made a sound that was half roar, half belch. Her breath smelled like nacho-flavored Doritos. All I could think to say was, "The Lakers are my home team!"
The baboon slapped her head with both hands and belched again. "Oh, Khufu likes you," Amos said. "You'll get along famously."
"Right." Samuel looked dazed. "The monkey likes you. Glad to hear it." Cupcake purred in Samuel's arms, his sleep undeterred by the large baboon in front of him.
"Agh!" Khufu grunted at me. Amos chuckled. "She wants to go one-on-one with you, Carter. A match to, ah, see your game."
I shifted from foot to foot. Athletics had never been my strong suit, no matter how much I appreciated the sport.
"Um, yeah. Sure. Maybe tomorrow. But how can you understand—"
"Carla, I'm afraid you'll have a lot to get used to," Amos said. "But if you're going to survive and save your mother, you have to get some rest."
"Sorry," Samuel said, "did you say 'survive and save our mother'? Could you expand on that? Specifically on the 'survive' part!"
"Tomorrow," Amos promised. "We'll begin your orientation in the morning. Khufu, show them to their rooms, please."
"Agh-uhh!" the baboon grunted. She turned and waddled up the stairs. Unfortunately, the Lakers jersey only managed to cover part of her multicolored rear. We were about to follow when Amos called out, "Carla, the workbag, please. It's best if I lock it in the library."
I hesitated. I'd almost forgotten the bag on my shoulder, but it was all I had left of my mother. I didn't even have our luggage, which held my wallet with our pictures in it. Honestly, I'd been surprised that the police hadn't taken the workbag too, but none of them had seemed to notice it.
"You'll get it back," Amos promised, sensing my hesitation. "When the time is right."
She had asked nicely enough, but something in her eyes told me that I really didn't have a choice. They were sharp and hardened, despite the smile on her face. I handed over the bag, and Amos took it gingerly, as if it were full of explosives.
"See you in the morning." She turned and strode toward the chained-up doors. They unlatched themselves and opened just enough for Amos to slip through without showing us anything on the other side. Then the chains locked again behind her. I looked at Samuel, unsure what to do. Wait for the crazy woman to come back out of the locked room or follow her baboon butler to who knows where.
Staying by ourselves in the Great Room with the creepy statue of Thoth didn't seem like much fun, so we followed Khufu up the stairs. She led us to adjoining rooms on the third floor, pushing me towards one and Samuel towards the other. We shared one last look before, he turned and entered his room. I opened my door, and my mouth dropped open at the scene in front of me.
I was expecting a dusty room with a bed and dresser, but it was way cooler than any place I'd ever stayed before.
There was a full kitchenette, and I opened the fridge to see all favorite snacks: ginger ale—[No, Samuel. It's not an old person's soda! Be quiet!]—Twix, and Skittles. It seemed impossible. How did Amos know what I liked? The more I explored the more I was stunned. The TV, computer, and stereo system were totally high-tech. The bathroom was stocked with my regular brand of toothpaste, deodorant, everything. The whole room was tailored to my life.
The king-size bed was awesome, too, though the pillow was a little strange. Instead of a cloth pillow, it was an ivory headrest like I'd seen in Egyptian tombs. It was decorated with lions and (of course) more hieroglyphs. There was a walk- in closet that could hold more clothes than I had ever owned, but also had several well stocked book shelves. The room even had a deck that looked out on New York Harbor, with views of Manhattan and the Statue of Liberty in the distance. I tried to do out and check out the view, but the sliding glass doors were locked shut somehow. That was my first indication that something was wrong.
I turned to look for Khufu, but she was gone. The door to my room was shut. I tried to open it, but it was locked. A muffled voice came from the next room.
"Carla?"
"Samuel."
I tried the door to his adjoining room, but it was locked too.
"We're prisoners," he said. "Do you think Amos...I mean, can we trust her? Is she locking us up for our safety or..." After all I'd seen today, I didn't trust anything, but I could hear the fear in Samuel's voice that he was trying to cover. It triggered an unfamiliar feeling in me, like I needed to reassure him. The idea seemed ridiculous. Samuel had always seemed so much braver than me—doing what he wanted, never caring about the consequences. I was the one who was nervous about checking out at a cash register. But right now, I felt like I needed to play a role I hadn't played in a long, long time: big sister.
"It'll all be okay." I tried to sound confident. "Look, if Amos wanted to hurt us, she could've done it by now. Try to get some sleep."
"Carla?" his voice echoed out again after several seconds.
"Yeah?"
"It was magic, wasn't it? What happened to Mom at the museum. Amos's boat. This house. All of it's magic."
"I think so." It felt insane to say it out loud, but there was no other explanation. Even science could only do so much. I could hear him sigh with a mix of exhaustion and relief.
"Good. At least I'm not going mad."
"That or we both are." I added, and heard a soft chuckle. "Don't let the bedbugs bite"
I realized I hadn't said that to Samuel since we had lived together in Los Angeles, when Dad was still alive.
"I miss Mum," he said. "I hardly ever saw her, I know, but...I miss her." My eyes got a little teary, but I took a deep breath. I was not going to go all weak. Sam needed me. Mom needed us. "We'll find him," I told him. "Sweet dreams."
I listened, but the only thing I heard was Cupcake meowing and scampering around, exploring his new space. At least he didn't seem unhappy. I got ready for bed and crawled in. The covers were comfortable and warm, but the pillow was just too weird. It gave me neck cramps, so I put it on the floor and went to sleep without it. That was my first big mistake.
Damn! Long as heck chapter! Again, let me know what you guys think about keeping the book chapters all together. Again, hoping I didn't offend anyone with the idea that the gods shift shape into alternate genders. Just going off of ideas from other mythologies to make things make sense.
Also, I am all registered for college. Haven't even started classes and I'm already $4,000 in debt. YAY! Yay…
Hope you guys enjoy and please review with any comments, constructive criticism, or requests. I can and will write for other fandoms too. I was thinking about writing some things for the Supernatural fandom. Let me know!
Thanks for everything,
Cat
