Chapter 27
Chapter twenty-seven
ANUBIS
Anubis stood outside Iliana’s closed bedroom door, unable to push aside the image of her bleeding out on the floor with his dagger buried in her.
She shouldn’t trust him, not after the blunder he’d made, but he wanted her to.
He couldn’t change the past, but he could do something about what was to come.
First, the curse. Then he would find balance between his protective instincts and Iliana’s need for independence, even if he wanted to hide her from the world.
Fine. A compromise.
He’d give her the skills to protect herself. Blade work. Grappling. She would be prepared for whatever trials awaited.
When Anubis heard the water turn on in the bathroom, he entered her bedroom, materializing clothes on the bed. His hands hovered over the fabric.
He’d dressed the dead for centuries. Choosing clothes for the living felt wrong. Like preparing her for a war she hadn’t asked for. She wasn’t ready. But he’d make sure she would be.
Shaking off his thoughts, he turned to go to the kitchen. He chopped vegetables and measured spices, but his mind wasn’t fully present.
Anubis was very familiar with curses. He’d placed them himself on those who desecrated tombs. And only on those who deserved it. The one affecting Iliana was different. The sheer complexity of a curse spanning generations, wielding its dark intent across bloodlines, disgusted him.
Whoever cast it was powerful—and cruel enough not to care about the collateral damage.
The image of Iliana last night, covered in blood, threatened to pull him into self-hatred, but he pushed it away. Dwelling on his failures wasn’t helping her. Cooking for her soothed him, but it didn’t solve the problem.
He needed to do something.
Anubis contacted Thoth, explaining what little he knew of the curse. The god of wisdom and magic should be able to untangle its mysteries.
A little of his tension eased, but it wasn’t enough.
He considered telling Iliana about Thoth.
He shook his head. There was no point in getting her hopes up until he was sure the other god would accept his request. He allowed the rhythm of cooking to center him as the fragrance of cumin and garlic filled the kitchen.
A familiar presence stirred the air beside him. The god of death didn’t speak at first. Thanatos watched as he worked at the counter, inhaling deeply and taking in the meal Anubis was preparing.
After a long moment, he asked, “How are you doing, Ani?”
He gripped the knife tightly. “Fine.”
Thanatos’ silence ate at him.
He then let out a harsh breath. “I am upset with myself.”
“I think we all are.” Thanatos scrutinized him. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Anubis snorted. “Not unless you want to hear me tell you everything you already know.” He kept chopping vegetables, the knife thudding against the cutting board.
“I would rather talk about what we are going to do. I asked Thoth to look into the curse, but he has not responded yet. Is there anyone else?”
Thanatos considered. “Hecate might know something. If this curse has any connection to dark magic, she would be the best to ask. The Night Wanderer would be very interested in this.”
Anubis let the small kernel of hope settle in his chest. They had a plan, and with it, a sense of relief and a promise of action.