Recreated (34 page)

“So you don't blame him, then? Not for any of the things he confessed?”

“All of us have secrets, Lily. That his were made public doesn't diminish my opinion of him. I know and love my brother. Also, knowing that Anubis was aware about all of it and still granted him power makes Asten even more exceptional in my eyes. What saddens me is that he didn't think he could tell us. After our first deaths, our positions as princes were no longer of import.”

“Maybe he didn't want you to think less of him.”

“We could have shared his burden. Asten has allowed his mistakes to weary his heart, and he fears our affection for him will shift as easily as the sand. Amon and I are made of more solid stuff.”

I nodded, agreeing with him, and then asked, “If you know he's a good man and I know he's a good man, then why was his heart banished?”

“That's a very good question. I suspect it has less to do with Asten's choices in mortality and more with the need to send us here. It's a subject I plan to take up with the gods in earnest once we return.”

We navigated around a large hill to a wide plain. Asten stood peering across it. Though he didn't turn to acknowledge our presence, he addressed us the moment we came up behind him. “It's the Field of Fears.”

“Begone!” a wheezing voice said. A little hunchbacked man peeked out from behind a large rock. Blistering bubbles stood out on his nose and arms. One of them popped, oozing yellow pus. I noticed a screeching monkey on his back that held a gleaming orb similar to Asten's heart.

Asten raised his bow. “Who are you?” he demanded.

“Just a beleaguered ghost—weak, and not worth the time it would take you to fight me.” Though he claimed weakness, I didn't miss the grinding of his teeth and the determined look in his eye. He'd surely give as good as he got.

“We're looking for our friend.”

With a calculating expression, the little man said, “I know where he is. I can take you to him.
If
you'll give me something in exchange.” He poked my rucksack. “You've got some powerful stuff in there.”

“I…I suppose we could share them,” I stammered.

The ghost cackled with glee and led us through the Field of Fears.

Halfway through, Asten slowed.

“He's stepped into a fear,” our guide complained. “Bleeding hearts with their bleeding silly fears. He gets stuck here of all places? Ridiculous.”

“What is he afraid of?” I asked.

“This is the no-one-loves-me-and-I'm-all-alone fear,” he answered in a mocking singsong voice. “Who cares about blinking love? What good does it do? I'm alone every day. Don't hurt me none.”

“He feels alone?” I asked, my voice huskier than usual.

“How do we get him out?” Ahmose asked.

“Easy. Give him something more fearful to think about.” The little man grabbed hold of my arm. His monkey screeched and bit me, hard. A giant pustule rose on my skin. Asten suddenly moved, breaking free of the fear, and picked up the little ghost with one hand.

“What did you do to her?” he demanded with burning eyes.

“What I needed to,” the ghost answered as he kicked his legs futilely.

“Asten, I'll be fine. See?” I channeled the power of the healing stela and the angry blister on my arm shrank until it disappeared.

“My price just went up,” the ghost said. “I want that healing thingamajig.”

“No,” Asten answered bluntly. “It wouldn't work anyway. Your injuries are your penance.”

The ghost tried to stare them down, but they weren't having it. “Fine,” he said, giving in. “Just don't go getting stuck in the fear of kittens or puppies. If you do, I'm leavin' you there.”

When we finally passed through the field, I breathed a sigh of relief. We'd made it.

“You'll find the one you're looking for thataway. Now give me what you promised.”

I offered the surly ghost my bunch of raisins, and he disappeared.

We'd only walked fifteen paces when Asten said, “I'm afraid we've been deceived.”

“But the scarab says Amon is truly this way,” I said.

“Perhaps the path to him lies beyond,” Asten replied.

“Beyond what?”

“That.” He nodded, indicating the path before us. “The worst place you can end up in the netherworld—the Mires of Despair. It's far too vast to circumnavigate. I'm afraid the fastest way is through.”

“If we survive,” Ahmose mumbled.

“Great, another near-death experience…” I paused, reaching into my bag to offer Asten a sip from the flask of cider. He was sweating. It was the first time I'd seen him sweat in the netherworld, which was disturbing. I wondered if, at that moment, Amon was being abused and they were feeling the effects and not sharing it with me.

Distracted, I dug into the gaping maw of my bag and came up with nothing. “He stole it all!” I shouted. “That scheming monkey on his back stole the cider and the cakes. Now he has everything!”

I looked back toward Ahmose and sweat had broken out on his brow, too. Both their mouths tightened into thin lines. “She's hurting him now. Isn't she?” I asked.

Asten nodded rigidly.

“Every moment Amon is in the hands of the Devourer is a moment too many,” I murmured quietly.

A heavy weight soon fell upon my shoulders as well. The Devourer was draining Amon, and it now affected all three of us. I slumped against Asten. My body trembled, but I was comforted by the idea that the energy she took was shared among all of us, and that as long as we were alive, we could rest assured that Amon was, too. A shudder went through me, and though I wanted to know what had happened to Amon, I didn't at the same time. It was at least an hour before we felt recovered enough to resume our journey.

“Are you ready?” Ahmose asked. I nodded. He rubbed his hand across his jaw. “Going through could take at least a day.”

“You can find the quickest path,” Asten encouraged his brother.

Relieved that whatever was torturing Amon was over, I looked down past the perilous, jagged rocks descending to the valley floor below, to the countless waves of white grain. A ghostly moan sent an eerie echo, and I stared at the movement of the grain, puzzled by it. The plants moved haphazardly, and not at all like wheat on a farm. “What is it?” I asked.

It is unnatural,
Tia whispered in my mind.
Not of the earth.

“Not it.
They,
” Ahmose answered.

“They?”

“Yes. They are the undead. Those who were banished and who were unable to fight off their demons like Asten did,” Ahmose explained.

“They're like our ghost guide,” Asten added, “only they've been discovered and brought here. Some feel they have no reason to fight their demons. Others try but are quickly overcome and grow too weak to stave off their tormentors. Here in the mire they are plagued for eternity as their hearts are dangled like bread before a starving man.”

“So they're like the ghosts I saw the Devourer consume? They weren't as solid as our guide was.”

Asten's fists tightened, though I wasn't sure he was entirely aware of it. “Yes. This is her garden. Her stores of…food.”

“That's horrible!” I exclaimed.

“There's no choice but to pass through,” Asten said. “If we hurry, we can make it through before the reapers come.”

“Reapers? Why does that sound even worse than the existence of an undead farm?”

“The reapers are not to be trifled with. Any soul caught in their path will be harvested. Trust me when I say we don't want to linger in this place.”

“So how do we get down there?” I asked. “Can you find a path, Ahmose?”

“There is only one safe path down. We'll have to carry you,” he answered.

“Carry me? Are you going to jump?”

“Not exactly,” Ahmose hedged. “Come. You'll go with me.”

“I'll take her,” Asten said, and stepped forward, placing a hand on my arm. Ahmose gave his brother a long look but then nodded and backed away. Apparently Ahmose wasn't feeling the effects of the heart scarab as keenly as his brother at the moment. Ahmose raised his arms and levitated in the air, immediately heading over the side of the cliff and descending rapidly.

Asten moved in front of me and gave me a small smile with just the tiniest glint in his eye, reminding me of the cocky version of Asten that I was more familiar with. Taking my arms, he placed them around his neck and leaned down to whisper in my ear, “Hold on to me tightly now.”

I nodded as he leaned down and scooped me up. Within the space of a heartbeat, he had risen in the air and we slowly began to float down to the valley below. Again I felt my heightened senses become attuned to the man carrying me. The feel of his strong shoulders beneath my palms, the hair that brushed my fingertips, and the way he held me enchanted me.

As I gazed up at his face, an inner part of me tried to recall Amon's, but the details I loved so much seemed to pale in comparison and I found I couldn't hold his image in my mind, not when Asten was so close. A tiny sound of dismay escaped from my lips and he looked at me.

“Are you all right, Lily?” he asked, clutching me closer.

“Yes,” I managed to squeak out.

Asten studied me and seemed to see something in my expression that I'd been trying to hide. Warmth spiraled between us, and his eyes melted into liquid pools. With my heightened vision I could see the spark of little stars that glinted in them. The corner of his mouth lifted, not in a smirk but in a smoldering promise, and whatever it was he was silently promising me, I wanted, needed, to say yes.

He edged closer, touching his nose to mine and then grazing our cheeks inch by tantalizing inch until his lips found my ear. Tangling my fingers in his hair and stroking the nape of his neck, I focused on the feeling, imbuing the touch with my power, willing him to feel the caress and the contact of his skin on mine. I heard his sharp intake of breath and then his quiet murmur shot goose bumps down my neck. “Careful, little lioness,” Asten said in a husky voice. “A man can only resist a woman like you for so long.”

I swallowed thickly. “But I'm not…” I couldn't finish the thought. My pulse pounded in my throat and the warm scent of him—cedar, amber, spice, with a hint of cocoa—enveloped me. He smelled delicious. Like something I wanted to taste. Something was very wrong with what was happening, but another piece of me thought it was very right.
We want this,
a voice whispered in my mind.
We want
him.

Asten lifted his head, flames of heat flickering in his eyes. He wanted this, too; I could sense it. The space surrounding us felt feverish and frenzied. I cocked my head and pulled him closer, his lips only centimeters from mine. “Asten,” I began with a sultry, pleading tone to my voice.

“Lily,”
he answered with an echoing hunger.

Tilting my head up, I waited breathlessly, with an almost aching anticipation, for his kiss. But it never came. I opened my eyes and found his closed.

“Asten?” I whispered, confusion smothering the passionate fog I'd been in.

“We can't do this, Lily.” His eyes finally opened but what I saw was not the desire I hoped for, but regret and self-recrimination. “Though you are as pure and lovely to me as the most brilliant star in the heavens, I will not do this to my brother.”

“But…Asten, I—”

“I'm sorry. I won't add you to my list of mistakes.”

“That's all I'd be to you?” I accused. “A mistake?”

“No. That's not…” He shook his head. “Don't misunderstand me.”

Our feet touched the ground and Ahmose approached. “Misunderstand what?” he asked.

“Nothing,” Asten answered.

I put my hands on my hips, feeling the stabbing pain of rejection mingling with the sick nausea of guilt. “That's right. It's nothing,” I said brusquely, and adjusted the bow across my back, automatically checking my knives at the same time. As I turned to head toward the field of ghosts undulating in an unseen netherworld wind like thousands of gray, inflatable air dancers, I pushed the thought that I wasn't at all afraid of flying when held by Asten to the back of my mind.

Ahmose took my arm. “Wait, Lily,” he said. “Let me find the path first.”

I nodded and folded my arms across my chest. When Ahmose crouched down and stretched his palm out over the sand, I briefly made eye contact with Asten, who wore a half-confounded, half-guilty expression that echoed my own.

As we walked through the field, trying but not succeeding to avoid all contact with the ghosts, I pondered why I was feeling so upset. Asten had done the right thing. I didn't know what had come over me or why being close to Asten inspired thoughts of tearing off his shirt with my claws.

There was no denying now that I was acting horribly disloyal to Amon, and the idea of the pain he would feel over my betrayal made me want to cry. And not just shed a tear or two, but sob in absolute heartbreak like the time Anubis had made me kill him. That was what it felt like. Like I was slowly but inevitably killing Amon. I couldn't stand it.

Tears leaked from the corners of my eyes, and I felt like screaming and ripping out my hair right along with the ghosts who clutched vainly for me when I passed. Through my watery vision, I noticed that the rows of souls near us had access to their hearts. The glowing orbs were almost close enough to touch, but none of them bothered trying. If they helped one another, they might even be able get their hearts back.

Stopping before a sad, broken woman, I stooped to pick up her heart and hand it to her, but Ahmose took hold of my wrist before I touched it.

“Don't,” he said. “They're too heavy. The despair will only sink your own feet into the mire.” Remembering my inability to pry Asten's heart from the Lake of Fire, I nodded and we went on. It seemed that the only ghosts paying attention to us were those we came into close contact with, and as the hours passed, I began to see a change in the rows. Farther down, the specters were more…lively.