Edge of Forever (The Soul Eater Book 6) Page 6

  There wasn’t time for me to guess at exactly what he meant. Aika marched Cat through the doors, bound, naked, and gagged, with a dagger at her throat. Green eyes flared in my direction but soon flicked to Seth. Fear fractured Cat’s fiery glare, and my insides twisted at the sight of it.

  All thoughts, lies, and denials screeched to a halt. As far as Seth was concerned, Cat was supposed to be dead. Her murder and my gift of Nile to Seth had solidified my reign as the all-bad anti-god Apophis who would wipe this world clean alongside the Lord of Red. Now, here Cat was, very much alive, and Nile had conveniently escaped along with the sorceress. The evidence that I was as bad as they came had suddenly evaporated.

  I swallowed the denials stuck in my throat. “Aika, the dagger is not necessary.”

  Aika’s lips twitched and curled around a sneer. She kept the blade’s edge wedged under Cat’s jaw. One quick jerk and she would open Cat’s jugular. Cat might survive. She might not. She had told me she was three deaths into her nine lives. I’d recently taken another. What if she was wrong? What if she didn’t come back?

  “She was discovered prowling the perimeter, looking for a way in. I am sure you are aware this woman is a descendant of the Slayer of Serpents,” Seth said. “You can see the lineage in the eyes, can you not, Apophis?”

  “Indeed.” Face flat. Words thin. Now more than ever, I needed to believe in the lie. Seth would kill Cat, and he would probably have me do it, but this time he’d have me take her head, ensuring she couldn’t come back. It’s what I would do.

  “Aika,” I said, adding weight to her name. “You do not answer to Seth. Betray me and—”

  “Your actions are not those of the god Apophis,” the priestess interrupted, so confident in her new allegiance.

  “What can you possibly know of Apophis?” I failed to hide the anger in my tone, but I had good reason to be furious. She was my High Priestess, and she was throwing her lot in with Seth. But the real reason for the anger stemmed from Cat’s fate and what I would have to do to stop it.

  “I know he would inflict his own punishment instead of shying away from it,” Aika said. “He would not allow a mere sorceress to strike him. He would not wait to demand answers from the boy, and he would not avoid opportunities of worship. I don’t know who you are, but you’re not the god Apophis.”

  “Foolish, foolish girl.” I smiled. Did she truly believe Seth could save her from my wrath? “I would also not allow a High Priestess to second-guess me.” I lifted my hand, made sure they were all observing, and clicked my fingers. In that snap, I’d speared in through Aika’s gaze, coiled around her soul, and yanked it out by the roots. Not dark, but not light either, her soul slipped down nice and easy, leaving its power residue buzzing through my veins. Aika blinked. Her mouth fell open, a question on her lips, but she couldn’t bring herself to ask it. The world around her would be gray. She would be wondering why she was here when she didn’t care about any of this.

  I plucked the dagger from Aika’s limp hand, reversed it in my grip, and punched it into her heart. She collapsed around the blade and dropped to her knees. Of all the deaths, hers would weigh the least on my conscience. Cat staggered away, caught between an anti-god who could swallow her soul in the time it took her to blink and another who could consume her flesh inside a funnel of sand. Her gaze settled on the bloody dagger in my hand. She knew, the same as I did, what had to happen next. Sacrifices must be made.

  I approached. She tossed her head from side to side, eyes widening.

  I had never wanted to hurt her. I hadn’t wanted to bring any of them into this serpent’s nest, but there was only so much I could do. I couldn’t save them all.

  Her eyes questioned, begged, pleaded. Why? We had been here before, but this time, the death had to stick.

  “There are worse ways to die than by the hand of Apophis,” I assured her, though judging by her expression, it didn’t work.

  Fear twisted into anger. “Do it.”

  She didn’t run. There was nowhere she could go where I wouldn’t find her.

  “May the Twelve Gates have your soul.” I caught her arm, yanked her close, and met her terrified eyes. She smelled of freedom, of meadows after the rain, and I wished I had known her when everything was easier.

  “Run,” I whispered.

  Twisting, I shoved her away and sliced down through her restraints with one quick slash. I didn’t slow—couldn’t look to know if she was already moving. The momentum carried me around. I launched the dagger at Seth, aiming for his exposed neck. I almost made it too. The blade shot by, zipping open a cut just below his jaw, and clattered somewhere behind him. The Lord of Red clutched at his neck—surprise delaying his reaction.

  “Still got it.” I grinned and collapsed into a swirl of smoke and ash, but it didn’t last. Sand rose up, hissing through the gossamer threads that held me together. Its dry heat burned through my ash and scattered my embers, tearing me apart. The power in him—the same I had witnessed inside an Egyptian tomb when he had tried to burrow inside my head and turn my thoughts inside out—scattered bits of me until I had no choice but to pull it all back together into the body of a man.

  I was met with a row of knuckles and a blast of pain through my face. I spat blood and something gritty to the side. A quick glance revealed no sign of Cat. She was gone. She had to be gone. While Seth was focused on me, she was safe. I owed her a life, after all.

  Another punch slammed into my jaw, fracturing it in a dozen places. Blood and bone slipped down my throat. My gut heaved, and I laughed through the fiery agony. “The worst part of it is,” I spluttered, “I am Apophis. I am everything you thought you knew, but improved.”

  He flung me down and took a step back, probably to admire his handiwork. “You dare attempt to manipulate me?”

  “Oh, I very much dare.” More laughter bubbled up. I rolled onto my side. “You were too easy, peaches.”

  He recoiled, his features twisting into ugliness. “I will take this world for myself. I do not need this echo of Apophis by my side.”

  “No?” It hurt to laugh, but it felt good too. “Listen carefully… Can you hear them chanting my name?”

  Rage turned his glare vicious.

  “You should kill me,” I suggested. “Because while I’m around, I’ll always upstage you. People fear me, the soul eater, the Lord of the Dark, Godkiller. I mean, shit, you can’t get a badder rep than that. You with all your sand? You know what sand is? Annoying, but not much else. That’s you. The people of this world fear and worship me. You? They just don’t like you very much.”

  It didn’t cross his mind to stop and really hear my words. If there was one thing I did best, it was enraging gods. Seth eyed the only weapon within reach: Alysdair, still clinging to my back. He yanked the sword free, kicked me over, and raised it high. Alysdair—the Eye of Ra and the only weapon that could harm me—crackled and hummed, brimming with all the souls it had devoured over the centuries.

  This was going to hurt.

  Seth plunged the blade down, punching it deep into my chest. Metal grated against a rib and burst from my back. The blinding wave of pain faded to an empty numbness. I wrapped both hands around Seth’s grip on the sword’s handle and met his red-eyed glare. His cracked lips peeled back over startlingly white teeth in a smile or a sneer. As my vision blurred, I couldn’t be sure which. The edges of the world were coming apart. Or perhaps it was me.

  “Until the rivers run red,” he said.

  It’s a funny thing, dying. The air got too loud, too large, but at the same time, it collapsed in on the moment. All I cared about was my own rasping breaths and the blood escaping my veins. And the creeping cold. The cold was a promise. My heart pumped harder, desperately trying to keep beating, and deeper inside, my dark soul stirred awake, rousing the monster slumbering in its cave. I had enough breath left in me for two words. Two words that would ensure Seth wouldn’t win. I whispered them through my blood-stained soul-eater smile.

&
nbsp; “Thank… you.”

  Chapter 7

  Some souls went straight to the weighing chambers, some wandered the Halls of Judgment, some—those that are too rotten for judgment—landed inside the Twelve Gates and didn’t get the chance to understand what hit them before they’re scattered to the eternal winds.

  The lack of sound was the first thing I noticed. A deafening silence. Beneath my hands, cracks zig-zagged through the earth, snaking into the distance. My gaze tracked them until it fell upon the storm churning on the horizon. Was it any surprise I’d ended up in the Gates? Anubis wouldn’t waste time weighing my heart against the Feather of Truth. Monsters like me were made to break the Scales of Justice.

  I straightened to my full height, lifted my chin, and left my hands loose at my sides. So this was what being dead felt like. I had the memory of a body, needing to breathe, my racing heart—but none of it was real. I’d seen enough souls to know I was just a glowing mass about to be hit by world-shattering winds. A black mass, but insubstantial nonetheless.

  The last time I’d been here, I’d had Cat at my side. She had faced the storm head-on, looking death in the eye. She shouldn’t have survived. As for me, I hadn’t known what I was then. I’d been a shadow of my true self. But things were different this time. I wasn’t any soul. I was one of the first ever souls. The first to harbor all the dark. The first spawn of the Neith, the Creation Goddess. The Twelve Gates were my battlefield. I’d faced Amun Ra here—scorched the earth and the skies—day after day, century after century, for thousands of years. For an eternity, I’d fought him. I had wanted the Light. I had hungered like nothing the worlds were capable of. I had hungered because I had been made that way. I had devoured the Dark and the Wrong before time began. I’d swallowed worlds that were no longer remembered. But the Light… For so long denied, I’d ached for the Light. Ra had stood in my way on this battlefield. And with the Eye of Ra, he’d beaten me back. Over and over and over… Day versus night. And every day we would end as equals, neither winning.

  I reached over my shoulder and touched Alysdair’s handle.

  “Look who’s winning now…” The words sounded English in my head, but came out twitching like living things and sailed across the land.

  Ra wasn’t here to stop me this time.

  Wherever he had gone, he wasn’t coming back. The Twelve Gates were mine, and once I reached the other side, the Light would be mine too. All the souls in the underworld, and all the souls in the human world. Everything. Mine.

  Finally, I was winning.

  I started walking toward the storm. My boots didn’t make a sound. Only my heartbeat and my thoughts sounded in my head.

  After all this time and all the battles, all I had to do was walk into the storm and make it my own, then take that storm and crush all those who opposed me.

  “Is this you?”

  I paused at the sound of the ferryman’s voice, surprised to hear it here, so far from the River. The words floated, just like mine had, not really starting or ending anywhere, but finding their way to me all the same. I turned on the spot, but I couldn’t see him.

  The ferryman. Once my only friend in a world that despised me. “You knew me as soon as Ammit came to you,” I said, “but you were prevented from revealing the truth… by me.”

  “Why are you here?” the ferryman’s disconnected voice asked.

  “For the Light…”

  “Was it always about the Light, or was it about the battle?”

  I turned around again, keeping the approaching winds in the corner of my eye. If the ferryman was trying to distract me, it wouldn’t work. I had what I wanted within my reach. I’d died, and now I was home. Nothing could stop me now.

  “What will you be when the Light is gone?” he asked.

  My fingers twitched, as did a fresh smile. “Satisfied.”

  “This battle—Night and Day, Dark and Light—it must never be won. Without the Dark, there is no Light. Without the Light…”

  I started walking again, my stride eating up the distance. “You do not understand what it is to be hollow for eternity. Once I swallow the Light, I will be whole.”

  “Even if having it destroys everything? Two worlds will fall.”

  “They are not the first.”

  “What of the people you love? The life you care for?”

  “Love?” I laughed. “Love. Hate. Care. These motives are insignificant.”

  “But you do care…”

  My stride faltered. “You do not know me, ferryman.”

  “I know the boy who was found on the banks of the Great River. The nameless boy. He swam with souls and played with the crocodiles and beasts beneath the Halls. He broke all the rules. He infuriated the gods. Later, he rose to power alongside the Great Devourer, but his nature became too strong for him to deny. He could not keep the Dark at bay. Had the gods seen the truth, they would have understood.”

  “No, they would have locked me inside a mountain for thousands of years.” I picked up my pace, turning my walk into a jog. I would not let the ferryman take this victory from me.

  “Yes, because they fear what you are. Not a god. A force much older than them. A force they can’t control, but a force that can change.”

  A god cannot change.

  Watch me.

  I stopped, opened my arms, and turned on the spot. “Show yourself. Or are you afraid to face me?” I could hear the storm, hear its distant howling rolling closer. It would soon be on me. The ferryman was a distraction I didn’t need.

  He appeared suddenly—a cloaked, hunched figure against the barren landscape. As always, the space inside his hood was empty, just a swirl of mist. To see him here, outside of his boat, away from the River, something about it felt deeply wrong and sent a cool shiver trickling down my spine.

  “You want to stop me? Fight me,” I told him.

  “I am not here to fight you.”

  I narrowed my eyes and stepped forward. His image flickered, blinked out, and appeared farther away.

  “You protected Mafdet’s mortal descendant inside the Twelve Gates. Did you not care then?” he asked.

  “I was Ace Dante then.”

  His image flickered again and reappeared to my right. “What of attempting to save the archaeologists by asking Hatshepsut’s soul for help?”

  “Ace Dante.”

  Flicker. This time he appeared behind me, turning me around on the spot.

  “The witches you killed and brought back at a great cost to your mind and body.”

  This was getting old. “Ace Dante,” I snarled. “What’s your point?”

  “Who made Ace Dante?”

  “I did…” I’d answered before understanding, but as the words leaped free, they triggered something inside me. An understanding. I had created Ace Dante to hide in. Didn’t that mean I was capable of all these things the ferryman spoke of? How could I create a man who cared if I was a creature who didn’t know how to care?

  I eyed the ferryman and the winds churning behind him, whipping up dust and ash, the remains of worlds gone by—worlds I’d destroyed. I wasn’t here for this. This wasn’t the battle I was meant to be fighting. There was another war. New York. Seth. Osiris. It all had to be stopped. Cat, Shukra, Cujo, Chuck, Nile. I couldn’t abandon them. But more than that, Duat and the Halls of Judgment were under threat. If the Halls fell, if the Journey collapsed, there would be no more eternal life. No more Light. The balance of life and death would be upset. The Light I so coveted would wilt and die. Life, death, day, night, good, bad, right, wrong. Light. Dark. I wasn’t here to destroy the Light. The ferryman was right. I needed it because without it, I was nothing. I needed the Light to exist. I could never devour it. That was my desire, but it wasn’t my purpose. I would never—could never be sated.

  I turned my face away from the storm. I had to go back to Duat. The gods had to be stopped. Balance had to be restored.

  I understood.

  The ferryman’s hood shifted. “Y
ou do not have to be good to do good.”

  Shukra had said the same. Either he and Shukra had been talking, or he had been listening. If he was listening in on the human world, that made him far more powerful than the image of a simple boatman presented.

  If I could hide all my power and presence inside the body of a nameless boy, it stood to reason that other missing gods could do the same.

  “Who are you?” I asked.

  “An old friend and enemy.” His image flickered and vanished, this time for good. I had my suspicions, but I could unpack those thoughts later.

  The storm of ash growled closer. But this wasn’t my fight. Not today. That didn’t mean getting out would be a walk in the park. I freed Alysdair and relaxed the hold on my power, spilling much of it through my grip and into the sword. As more of me bled outward, the dust and ash around me lifted into the air, disturbed by my resonance.

  A wall of dust and ash barreled closer, rising so high I couldn’t see its peak. Against it, I was just another mote. The last time I’d stood against the storm, it had torn me apart. Cat too. This time, I was dead, but all the stronger for it.

  I reached deep into the earth, stirring the bones of old worlds, rousing them from their slumber. Layer upon layer of fragmented souls, set down over thousands of years, over thousands of battles, but this time, I wasn’t waking the dead to rise against Ra. I was remaking them to rise against the gods. All of them.

  Silent lightning cracked through the storm. I tasted burnt power in the air, that and ash. I lifted Alysdair—lifted the weight of my power—and dragged the fragments of souls from their slumber and remade them into creatures made of Dark. The storm slammed into me, over me, slicing a million needles into my soul, but where it should have torn me apart, it washed through, swirled my presence, and stirred up the Dark, filling me out, building me up, stretching this vastness of Dark until I became the storm.

  Chapter 8

  Red sand had poured over Duat, pushed up against columns, and eaten some of the glowing hieroglyphs. I swept through narrow streets and pathways as a cloud of Dark, but behind me, I left only the dazzle of Duat in all its glory. Hieroglyphs shone, and power sang.