A/N: Ah, this is officially the longest chapter of the story. Heh (:
Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note nor any of the characters that appear in this fic.
Chapter 17: The End
When the elder two of the Wammy boys stole into the throne room ten minutes later, giddy and high off their success in retrieving their confiscated property along with a few insurances, they were instantly brought back down to earth at the sight of the massive copper-colored stain in the middle of the floor minus a certain pharaoh's corpse.
"Oh, shit." Matt didn't know what else to say.
The ex-Mafioso turned pale, as though he was on the verge of blowing chunks. Matt watched with detached interest as Mello brought his hand to the supposedly comforting beads around his neck, the very ones which General Horembeb had earlier mistaken for thieved rubies but were now reunited with their rightful owner.
Despite himself, Matt was mystified. Yes, that was the blood of royalty, the blood of a husband, the blood of someone who had still been breathing, living and existing at sunrise only that morning, but Mello was no stranger to death. He never had been. Perhaps the explosion had changed his friend more than he wanted to admit – or, more likely, their most recent brush with death and eternal condemnation.
See? No one's invincible, he thought viciously. Then the redhead caught himself, disturbed by his own hypocrisy. He was the one who had been prepared to throw everything away for a piece of limited immortality. How was that any different?
Did that make him any better?
"You gotta hand it to them. These people work hella fast," Mello remarked, tearing his sickened gaze away from the ungodly smear.
"Lucky for us, not fast enough," a new voice observed.
Matt glanced up in time to see Near and Ankhesenamun stride through the doorway. From the looks of her dry but bloodshot eyes, the young widow had only just finished grieving. Her heavily-applied eyeliner, impressively enough, was still intact.
"We do not have much time," the Egyptian queen said thickly. "The guards and slaves have been deployed to seal the exits, and they shall return to search the rooms as soon as they are finished."
"Matt," Near prompted.
Matt wordlessly handed over the leather-bound volume to the older woman. Ankhe visibly flinched as she took it; although she could avoid looking at the bloody blot by their feet, she obviously couldn't avoid the one streaked across the cover of the Book of the Dead.
"Heart, shadow, name, soul, spirit," she muttered, flipping through the pages. Her fingers came to a stop at the centre of the funerary text. "Being?"
The hesitation and uncertainty in the woman's voice sent a thrill of alarm through the trio. Matt and Mello exchanged worried looks, while Near's forehead creased in displeasure.
"Can you read the spells?" Near asked.
"Yes, but the problem is that a specific spell for time travel does not reside in the Book, or any of the other Books, for that matter," Ankhesenamun explained nervously. "Only highly experienced magicians possess the ability to combine and invent enchantments that will function as they please."
Mello groaned loudly and buried his gloved hands into his hair. "There's only one person we know who fits that description."
"Exactly!"
The sound of mock applause echoed through the chamber. Matt's head jerked up as though it had been a ringing gunshot, rather than a relatively less harmful pair of hands that belonged to…
"Ay," Mello snarled. "So you found us."
"Yes," the Grand Vizier growled, unsheathing his sword. "And I see that you have broken into the vaults," he added, giving Mello and Matt's tattered, outlandish outfits a once-over. His beady eyes lingered on Matt's beloved goggles. "You are obviously much too smart to leave alive. Ankhe! Come here, my pretty bride."
The young queen, fifty years the man's junior, quietly slunk to Ay's side with the Book and shot Matt and his companions an apologetic look.
Ay smiled. "And now I shall take care of the three of you just like I did with the other fools. I will not have any witnesses running around."
"Fools? They were high priests before they became your guinea pigs," Matt said, shaking with anger and disbelief.
"Pigs," Ay mused, thoughtfully tapping his blade against his hairless, pointy chin. "That is the perfect way to put it. Although, I was not only referring to the priests – I also sent a few of my slaves to the afterlife without the pharaoh's knowledge. While my silly weakling of a grandson was plotting to bring you three into our time, I was experimenting with the enchantments until I found a way to bypass the Sphinxes and deliver my men right into Anubis's hands! A little trial and error is essential for any sort of success, you see."
Matt hazarded a peek at Mello, wondering if they were sharing the same thought.
"You're despicable," Near spat out.
The vizier shrugged. "They were just a couple of farm boys. No one will miss them – there are thousands of them in Egypt. And according to the scribes…" His eyes glittered with malice as he took another step toward the trio, brandishing his weapon dangerously.
"I don't like where this is going," Matt mumbled to himself.
"…you three are orphans, are you not?" The older man threw his head back and laughed coldly. "In that case, no one will miss you either!"
"You're wrong," Mello said severely. "The future depends on us and you don't even know it."
Near cocked an eyebrow but said nothing.
"Your victory will be short-lived, anyway," Matt sneered.
Ay's face twisted into an ugly expression. "What?"
"What he means to say is that if you don't send us back to the future," Mello cut in sharply, "we will have no choice but to use this!"
In ten milliseconds flat, a silver-plated Beretta was pointing directly at Ay's forehead.
The Grand Vizier chuckled. "Is that pathetic toy supposed to scare me? Whatever it is, we checked – there is no ammunition. It is unusable."
"Correction: there was no ammunition. But then we got a little creative downstairs with the pharaoh's treasure," Mello said, ejecting the fifteen-round magazine from his gun and holding it up for the vizier to see.
Each of the previously empty casings was now filled with shining, golden bullets that had once been precious rings, anklets and bracelets – before they had been blasphemously melted, that was.
"What in Osiris's name!" Ay spluttered.
Mello snapped the clip back in and cocked the hammer. "Send us back. Now."
The vizier eyed the gun suspiciously, as though mentally evaluating how serious the danger it posed actually was.
"You do not want to find out the hard way," Matt added helpfully.
BANG!
Ay let out a high-pitched shriek as he dove for cover. His sword pirouetted through the air and clattered to the floor several feet behind Ankhesenamun, who quickly darted away to retrieve the blade.
As one unit, Matt, Mello and Near encircled the cowering man and pounced, pinning the flailing seventy-year-old vizier to the ground. Tut's widow hovered above them as Matt jammed a knee into Ay's groin while Mello pressed his gun against the older man's temple.
"Four against one, Vizier," Near said sleekly, perching on top of Ay's chest like a bird of prey. "I hardly have to inform you of your odds of escaping."
"Perform the spell," Mello grunted, "and we will spare your measly existence. No funny business, either, or the queen will slit your throat."
"A meaningless threat," Ay gasped painfully. "If I die here, you will perish along with me. The guards will arrest you and you will never find your way back."
"Good point," Mello drawled, impervious to the vizier's remarks. "However, your reasoning hinges on whether or not you are truly ready to die. Well, are you? Are you prepared to face Anubis and Ma'at and the Judgment, knowing that your soul has been marked with murder?"
Ay stopped resisting and fell silent.
"Send us back, and perhaps the gods will be more lenient with your sentence," Mello crooned, removing the Beretta from the older man's head.
"Saving three lives? It'll be your redemption," Near intoned.
Hook, line and sinker.
The moment Matt noticed the glimmer of hope in Ay's eyes, he knew that everything would be alright.
He was right.
When the meticulously improvised spell was finally cast by the delusional vizier, the last thing that Matt saw before a veil of dazzling light shrouded his senses was the single tear rolling down the face of the young widow, Ankhesenamun. He could only hope that their misleading assurance of salvation would be enough to lessen the misery that the queen was fated to suffer for the following four years in her own time.
It was nothing like the first time, when their entire condemned apartment had shifted into the past without them even realizing it. The light was so blinding, Matt had to squint from behind his goggles to minimize the burning sensation in his retinas. He was determined to witness this phenomenon for himself.
The pendulum swung forth, the fabric of time uncreased and stretched, the sands fell free, and for a fleeting moment, Matt could've sworn he felt something akin to thirteen red-hot pokers piercing him repeatedly before the light vanished to reveal a recognizable scene.
Mello was praying.
"… and at the hour of our…"
The blond's recitations suddenly ceased, and Matt stared at him, hoping, hoping that….
"We're back!" Mello cried out, releasing his rosary from his grasp. "Matt, tell me it wasn't a dream."
The redheaded gamer gave a sigh of relief. "It wasn't a dream," Matt confirmed, gazing down instinctively at his clothes. His vest and striped shirt were still ripped to shreds. Clotting gashes peeked out from underneath the flimsy material.
Mello checked his cell phone. "One minute past eleven," he murmured. "So the march of time actually stopped."
"For us," Matt said in awe. Then realization struck him. "Near! He still has the ambrosia!"
Mello shrugged easily.
"Don't you care?"
"Why should I? I didn't want or deserve it in the first place," Mello responded, moving toward the apartment window. Matt stood up to join him.
Mello brushed aside the moth-eaten curtains. The duo was greeted with the sight of familiar high-rise buildings, the glaringly colorful lights, the pulsating electric life that was today. Below them honked a steady stream of cars, leftovers from long hours at the office.
Japan.
"It's not exactly home sweet home," Mello said, "but at least this is where we belong for now, eh Matt?"
Matt was quiet for a moment. "This will be our grave."
"I dig my own grave," Mello replied, shutting the curtains.
The redhead was left staring after the blond.
Then, so will I.
A/N: Moral of the story? Be careful what you wish for, or else you might come face to face with mummies one day. Something like that. LOL.
Special thanks to the latest readers and reviewers: Friday (thanks, and you're very welcome ^_^), TheCatchingLightAlchemist, Kira the Wolf, TeamDeanWinchester4Ever, x3iLoveAnime, OhMyGeePinkSucksAss, akatsukifan (merci! I'm glad you liked it :D), near's girl (thanks, I'll think about it xD), bffs4evaMattandMello, Pink Star Art, CharizardCyndi ~
There will be a brief epilogue to "wrap" (don't look at me, I love puns) things up.