Chapter 5
Jessica
Iknew when the twenty-four hours ended because I’d been watching the clock on my phone with obsessive attention. As much as I’d wanted to, I couldn’t sleep. Each minute that ticked by felt weighted and significant, as if I were counting down to something that would change my life forever.
Anubis had been quiet throughout the evening, sitting by the window in his jackal form, watching Cairo’s evening traffic with those unsettling golden eyes. I’d tried to read, scrolled through social media, and answered a text from Sophie asking how the trip was going.
To take my mind off my upcoming judgment, I wrote back to her. Talking to Sophie always helped.
Fine. Saw some amazing things today. Had a great tour guide. He seemed to know everything.
You’ll have to tell me about it. Was he cute?
I glanced over at Anubis. How do I answer that?
Actually, yes.
Go Mom!
Not like that, Soph.
All was technically true, even if I left out the part about my tour guide being an immortal god of the dead.
When the sun finally touched the horizon in the early hours, he stood.
“The time is complete,” he said, his voice formal in a way it hadn’t been all day.
“I have observed you. I have determined that you pose no threat to the sanctity of the tombs, and no danger to the sacred spaces you inadvertently violated.”
“Oh.” I set down my phone, a cold pit settling in my stomach. “So you’re leaving.”
“That was our agreement.”
“Right. Yes. Of course.” I forced a smile I didn’t feel. “Well. Thank you for not cursing me, killing me, or turning me into a scarab beetle. I appreciate that.”
He tilted his head, studying me with unnerving intensity. “You sound disappointed.”
“No, I just,” I stopped, unsure how to explain the feeling. “I guess I got used to having company for the day. Even if that company was a judgmental ancient deity who hates modern tourism.”
“I do not hate it. I simply find it lacking in proper reverence.”
“Same thing.” I stood, moving to the window beside him. Cairo sprawled below us, a sea of lights beginning to twinkle as darkness fell. “Where will you go? Back to the underworld? Back to the pyramid?”
“I should return to my bindings, yes.” He paused. “I need to reseal the stone and restore the wards.”
“Should,” I repeated. “But?”
He was quiet for so long that I thought he wouldn’t answer.
Then he spoke. “I have not walked freely in this world for three thousand years. I have not seen what Egypt has become, beyond brief moments of judgment and punishment. I have not…” he trailed off, and I watched a look of wistfulness pass across his face.
For a moment, Anubis, the god, appeared as vulnerable as a human.
“I have not had a conversation that did not end in curses or pleading for mercy.”
My heart did somersaults in my chest. “That sounds awful.”
“It is my purpose.”
“Well, your purpose sounds awful.”
The corner of his mouth twitched, not quite a smile, but close. “You are remarkably disrespectful for someone who narrowly avoided divine retribution.”
I shrugged. “Yeah, well. I figure I already touched the forbidden stone and survived. What’s a little more disrespect at this point?” I turned to face him head-on. “Stay.”
His ears went back in surprise. “What?”
“Stay. For dinner, at least. There’s this restaurant the concierge recommended.
It’s supposed to have the best Mahshi in Cairo.
You could,” I hesitated, aware of how insane I sounded.
“You could make yourself visible. I mean, as a human. Join me like a normal person. Well, as normal as a god can be.”
“Why would I do that?” Anubis’s eyes narrowed, assessing me.
“Because you want to, or at least I think you do.” I met his golden eyes. “Because you just said you haven’t walked the earth in three thousand years, and I’m offering you a chance to experience it again. But this time with no bindings, no curses, no judgment. Just dinner.”
He stared at me for a long moment, and I watched something war behind those golden eyes. Duty and desire; obligation and want.
“One dinner,” he said finally.
“One dinner.”
“And then I return to seal the stone.”
“Sure. Absolutely. This is definitely not me enabling a god to shirk his divine responsibilities.”
That almost-smile appeared again, a little wider this time. “I will need to alter my appearance into something more socially acceptable.”
“You mean less giant-jackal-shaped?”
“Precisely.”
He closed his eyes, and I watched the transformation.
It wasn’t dramatic like in the movies. No flash of light or thunderclap burst from the heavens.
Instead, the change was a subtle shift, like reality adjusting itself.
Anubis’s black fur receded, the jackal features smoothing into human ones.
When he opened his eyes again, they were still gold, but the pupils were round now, human-shaped.
He stood before me as a man; tall, darkly tanned sun-kissed-skinned, with sharp features and close-cropped black hair.
The golden bands still circled his biceps, and the broad collar still spread across his chest. He had also added dark pants and a linen shirt that seemed to have come from a high-end boutique.
“Better?” he asked.
“You look…” I searched for the right word. Beautiful. Devastating. Perfect. Like every bad decision I’d ever wanted to make. “Good. You look good.”
“I am still myself. Nothing other than my outer appearance has changed.”
“I know.” It wasn’t a lie. I could still sense something beneath the human glamour, something ancient and powerful and not quite of this world. But it was easier to look at him now; easier to pretend this was normal. “Ready to experience the wonders of modern Egyptian cuisine?”
“I remain skeptical about the wonders.”
“There’s that judgment again.”
We took a taxi to the restaurant, and I watched Anubis watch Cairo.
This time, instead of watching me, he pressed close to the window like a child, his expression cycling through wonder and confusion, with hints of grief.
The city had completely changed since he last explored it.
The Cairo he’d known lay buried under millennia of construction, destruction, and rebuilding.
“It’s strange,” he whispered. “To see my world transformed into something unrecognizable.”
“I can’t even imagine the changes it’s undergone.” Though I’d experienced loss and dramatic change, I couldn’t fathom what he saw. My changes were all personal, contained to my world. His entire civilization had risen and fallen, then been built over. “Does it hurt?”
“What?”
“Seeing it like this, I mean.”
“Yes.” He turned to look at me. “But also no. Things end. Everything ends eventually. Even gods understand this.”
“Aren’t you cheerful,” I deadpanned.
“I am the god of death. Cheerfulness has never been my strong suit.”
The restaurant was small and crowded, filled with the warm smell of spices and roasting meat.
The host greeted us warmly, leading us to a table near the back.
I watched people’s reactions to Anubis. Women’s eyes lingered on his body.
Men assessed him as competition. No one saw anything unusual.
He was just a tall, attractive man dining with a middle-aged tourist.
Except for me. I saw the truth. The jackal sat across from me, studying a menu as if it contained the secrets of the universe.
“I don’t know what any of this is,” he admitted. “Names have changed.”
“That’s okay. I’m surprised you can read the language.
I’ll order for us if you don’t mind.” I flagged down the server and requested an assortment of appetizer sized sampler dishes including mahshi, koshari, ful medames, and, because I was feeling reckless, pizza.
The restaurant offered both traditional and modern fusion cuisine.
“Pizza?” Anubis asked when the server left.
“Trust me.”
The food arrived in waves, and I watched Anubis approach each dish with the caution of someone defusing a bomb. He tried the stuffed grape leaves, mahshi, first. I tried to read his expression, but it remained neutral.
“This is…” he paused, chewing. “Unexpected.”
“Good unexpected or bad unexpected?”
“I am not yet certain.”
But he kept eating. To his credit, he tried everything I’d ordered, analyzing each flavor with intense concentration. The koshari seemed to confuse him. “Why is there pasta with rice? Who decided this was acceptable?” But the ful medames earned a nod of approval.
Then the pizza arrived.
“This is pizza,” I explained, lifting a slice. “It’s Italian originally, but it’s become kind of universal. Bread, sauce, cheese, toppings. Simple but perfect.” I shrugged. “Plus, I’m from New Jersey, and we know our pizza.”
He picked up a slice, examining it from multiple angles. Then he took a bite.
I watched his eyes widen.
“This is…” He chewed, swallowed, and took another bite. “This is extraordinary.”
“Right?” I grinned, delighted by his reaction. “It’s hard to go wrong with carbs and cheese.”
“At the very least, we must raise the mortals who created this to demigod status.”
“I’ll let Italy know.” I bit into my slice. “But you should try a Jersey slice one day.”
We ate in companionable silence for a while, and I relaxed in a way I hadn’t since before Vinny left me. Something about Anubis called to me. Even in human form, even knowing what he was, I felt safe with him.
“May I ask you something?” I said, reaching for another slice.
He nodded. “You may.”
“Why did you really stay? I don’t think it’s just about the pizza.”
He set down his food, wiping his hands on a napkin with surprising delicacy. “You treated me like a person.”
“You are a person. Well, sort of.”