Chapter Fourteen #2
The shop had a small variety of summer wear available, including shorts, a few swimsuits, and a crap ton of costumes for the costume party held on the last night of the cruise.
Since I couldn’t create glamours in Duat, we purchased a steampunky Mad Hatter’s outfit complete with top hat for me, while Yrian was wholly smitten by a Beetlejuice outfit, saying he loved the wig and striped suit.
Between the shirts and his costume, it turned out that his sartorial aesthetic was a bit more eccentric than I expected.
Three days passed more peacefully than I might have guessed when I’d been abducted.
We swam—Yrian turned out to be quite good at an Australian crawl—ate far too much, and had steamy, sweaty nights in which we both gave up the worries of the world and just enjoyed finding out what things gave us the most pleasure.
And I fell deeper and deeper in love with the complicated, sometimes contradictory man who I realized simply wanted to protect those who needed it.
We met Yusuuf, an Egyptian man whom Osiris had sent into the mortal world, and who was subsequently returning to Duat and was the designated champion expected to conquer various challenges that were part of the voyage.
We missed the first one due to Yrian being so sexy I couldn’t resist him when he emerged from the shower one morning, but he was present with Yusuuf when facing some fire challenge.
At the end of the four days, we arrived at one of the small, dusty villages where a couple of sleek cars from the 1930s were waiting.
“According to the gossip that you missed because you were fighting with your nascent YouTube channel—and really, you should probably wait until we get a home and cats to film before you worry about what sort of graphic suits the channel best—Osiris and Maat will come on board. Maat will make sure we’re good people; then we’re free to get off the ship and find your evil brother,” I told Yrian as we finished packing our things.
“Osiris will not be here. The First Dragon said he was in the mortal world, trying to find the sons of Horus,” Yrian told me, shoving a pair of salmon-colored shorts into a newly purchased suitcase before setting our luggage outside our door.
He’d not only discovered the joy of shorts, but fallen madly in love with Hawaiian shirts, the more colorful the better.
He bought six of them, and was beyond delighted with his choices.
“We had nothing at all like this when I was last alive,” he told me at the time, holding up a pink-and-lime shirt decorated with flamingos, flowering cactus, and margarita glasses, admiration making his eyes glow.
“I bet you didn’t,” I had murmured, and kept my giggles to the mental variety.
He’d worn shorts and colorful shirts all four days, and since the former showed off his legs, while the latter made him happy, I had no complaints, although I much preferred his minuscule swimsuit that turned heads when we indulged in pool time.
The fact that he didn’t give a damn about any of the women (and some of the men) admiring him in the skimpy suit gave me infinite joy.
“Horus?” I dug through my memory of long ago when I was in college. “Isn’t he Osiris’s son?”
“Yes. Ah, it is Isis who is presiding over the event,” Yrian said as we reached the upper deck. Several people had emerged from the cars and were making their way up the gangway.
“Isis?” I asked, peering around him at the newcomers. “The Isis? The actual one?”
“You have no problem with Maat passing judgment on us, but balk at Isis overseeing the proceeding?” he asked, his gaze serious as he considered me.
“I’m weird that way,” I said, turning when the group marched up the stairs to where everyone was gathered.
Leading the way, a woman in a white leather bustier, with glossy black hair that hung down to her butt, strode across the deck, ignoring the murmurs of excitement from the passengers, and heading straight to where the captain held out a tall flute filled with champagne.
“Ah, Kherty, how well you know me,” the woman said, tipping her head back and pouring the entire glass of champagne down her throat.
“Perfect temperature, as usual. Now, where are we? Maat, are you ready? I have a seaweed facial in an hour, and I will not keep Anton waiting for anyone, not even pilgrims, so let’s get a move on the proceedings, shall we? ”
“That’s Isis, I assume,” I said quietly to Yrian as a shortish, curly-haired woman smiled at everyone waiting, and moved over to where a table had been set up by a couple of men in ancient Egyptian linen kilts.
She had a white feather stuck in her hair, and lovely brown eyes that beamed with a joy so potent, it seemed to light up an already bright day.
As I spoke, Isis turned to gesture toward the passengers, but she froze when she saw Yrian.
My soul stopped feeling the happy effects of Maat and suddenly felt dank and lumpy.
“Nephew!” Isis said, coming forward to stand in front of Yrian.
He bowed, one of the big, respectful bows. “Isis, it is a pleasure to see you again. This is my mate, Becket.”
“Mate? I thought she died? Never mind, I haven’t the time.” Isis spun around and gave Maat a pointed look. “Anton is waiting. Let’s get the line going.”
“Nephew?” I said in an exaggerated whisper as I clutched Yrian’s arm. “Isis is your aunt?”
“Yes,” he said, watching Maat with interest as the passengers submitted themselves to her examination.
“Your aunt, Yrian?” I poked him in the side until he glanced down at me, a question in his eyes. “She’s a god. Not a demigod, an actual god. An Egyptian god. Your aunt.”
“She is,” he said, a little frown pulling down his chocolate-brown eyebrows. “Why do you have trouble with that? She is the sister of the First Dragon, as Osiris is his brother.”
My nails dug into his arm until I realized what I was doing. I forced my fingers to relax, rubbing the crescent marks on his skin as I said, “OK. I’m going to need a moment to process this. Holy carp on rye.”
“You make too much of the First Dragon’s siblings,” Yrian told me sternly, then approached Maat when she gestured toward him. He held out his hand as ordered, and watched as she dropped a feather on his palm. It bobbled up and down a few times, making Maat laugh as she took it back.
“You may pass, much to my feather’s delight,” she told him, her smile once again warming everyone. He bowed, and held out his hand for me.
“This is Becket, my mate. Your feather will like her, too,” he told Maat.
She gave me a quick once-over, then laid the feather on my palm. It didn’t hop up and down with joy, like it did for Yrian, but it rested there quietly.
“Indeed, she is welcome to pass, as well,” Maat told me, and to my utter surprise, she winked.
“Are we done? I have just enough time to get back to Anton. Oh, nephew. There was something I was supposed to tell you if I saw you. ...” Isis approached, expensive perfume wafting about her as she stopped in front of Yrian and tapped one perfectly manicured nail on her lower lip.
“Ah! I have it! Osiris wanted me to warn you that Maat’s sister has been buddying up with that troublesome brother of yours. ”
“Asfet?” Maat asked, as she stuck the feather back in her hair. Her expression turned somber as she watched Yrian. “She has returned to the Duat?”
“Evidently,” Isis said with a careless gesture. “It matters not to me. Osiris handles that sort of thing. Guards! We leave.”
The three shirtless men in ancient kilts immediately fell into line behind her as she departed, the captain in tow.
Maat looked troubled. Yrian looked furious. I just felt lost. “I get that anyone hanging around Bael is not good, but is there a reason why we have to be warned about it?”
“She is the other half of me,” Maat answered, but I had a feeling she was not really paying attention. “I am order; she is chaos.” Her gaze slid from looking at nothing to Yrian, her expression shifting to sympathy.
“Would she have the power to bring people into the Duat without using the ferry?” Yrian asked, his fire so high I worried it might spill out onto the deck.
“Yes,” Maat said, her gaze dropping to her hands. “She is a deity, as am I. We do not need the Wepwawet in order to travel in the Duat. I must contact Osiris. He has always dealt with Asfet in the past. He must return from the mortal world.”
“I doubt if he would, not while the sons of Horus are running amok,” Yrian told her, then held out a hand for me, giving Maat a little bow. “We thank you for your help.”
“Be careful,” she warned as we turned to leave the boat. “Asfet has always embraced that which will cause the most trouble, and if she is working with Bael ...”
“So, now we have a new bad guy to worry about?” I asked as we trotted down the gangway.
A couple of dusty taxis were waiting for the passengers, along with stacks of luggage.
Most of the people had left, but there were a few remaining who took pictures, chatted excitedly, and consulted maps as to where they wished to go next.
“Like we don’t have enough with Bael and Xavier? ”
“Asfet is the least of my concerns—” His phone started playing an operatic song I recognized as “The Cat Duet.” “It is my youngest brother. Yes?”
He put his phone on speaker just in time for me to hear Baltic explaining that although Deus escaped while being transported to Drake’s country house, he had spilled a few secrets about Xavier.
“He admitted that Xavier seeks to become a new demon lord.” Baltic’s voice sounded tinny and thin, which I put down to the Internet connection in the Duat.
Most underworlds had less than sterling reception with the mortal plane.
“He did not say that Xavier sought help from Bael for that purpose, but I can’t think of any other reason for consorting with him.
It also explains why he is trying to gain the shards. ”