Here's the next unedited tidbit from Death Goddess Walking. I had hoped to finish this novel during April's Camp NaNo, but I had other things, like taxes, sidetracking me. So for May, I'll punch the afterburners to get this baby finished and get back to writing A Cup of Conflict. Enjoy this taste of my new upcoming series.
-------------------
I aim my stinger, like a knife, into the heart of my Father’s enemies. – The Lost Books of Selket, Djehuti’s Library at Akasha
Without a thought, Billie slapped her palms together. Steel quivered between them, the point centimeters from the OSU emblem over the breast of her sweatshirt. No, the knife wasn’t shaking. Her arms were.
The knife clattered against the hardwood floor. She grabbed the back of her chair to keep from falling to the floor as well. What she’d done was fucking impossible. She tore her gaze from the deadly utensil to the landlady she trusted despite both of their screwed-up pasts. Had trusted.
Despite Nettie’s peculiarities, Billie never thought of her as truly dangerous. Hell, under the current gun laws, the woman couldn’t own a firearm due to her psychiatric history.
Had trusted. Until now.
Blistering hot emotion boiled up from her gut. “What the hell is wrong with you, you crazy bitch?”
Nettie’s cool look said how much Billie’s anger affected her. “You caught it, didn’t you?” With casual indifference, she reached for another knife in the butcher block holder. Instead of throwing this one, she started slicing rolls apart and placing them on the plates.
Overtaxed muscles shook in earnest. Billie turned to Porter, praying for some support. Any support. The man clasped both hands over his mouth, trying to stifle his . . . laughter?
“What the hell is wrong with both of you?”
Her disbelief released the belly-wrenching guffaws from Porter. Her bruised hips and ribs screamed as the adrenaline rush faded. She fell more than sat back in her chair.
“You should have seen the look on your face.” He slapped the table and launched into another round of laughter.
Nettie plopped a plate and fork in front of her, steady brown eyes on her. “I wouldn’t have thrown the knife if I didn’t know you would catch it. You’ve already seen Porter shift, but you still had doubts. A demonstration of your own abilities is far more effective than anything I could have said.”
Billie eyed the delicious-looking sweet roll. Her urge to throw it in the trash fought with her growling stomach. If Nettie resorted to throwing dangerous utensils at her renters, then who knew what Nettie could have laced the roll with?
But the professor was right. She had caught the steel aimed at her heart. Her heavy sigh rippled the air, and she picked up the fork. If she really believed Nettie meant to harm her, she should have run screaming from the house and flagged down a squad car after that stupid knife stunt. She glared at the older woman. “I still don’t believe your shit that I’m some Egyptian goddess.”
The professor carried over the other two plates before resuming her seat between Porter and Billie. “That’s because you’re not. Once again, you’re the mortal incarnation of the Neteru—”
“Selket. Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Billie finished before cramming a hunk of sweet roll into her mouth. Sunshiny goodness mixed with the spice and sugar. Damn, if Nettie had poisoned the roll, Billie was going to die with happy taste buds.
The professor cut a tiny bite and forked it into her mouth, watching for Billie’s reaction. Her look was calculating, contemplative. Not the angry, crazy, or generally rude expression that normally sat on the professor’s face.
Billie stopped in mid-chew, the orange tang clamoring to join the acid already burning a hole in her stomach. She swallowed, the lump slowly sliding down her throat. This was a new posture for Nettie. Billie looked over at Porter, who’d already plowed through half of his giant roll. Though he focused on his treat, she doubted he was actually ignoring the discussion.
If one could call what was happening a discussion.
She turned back to the professor. “Are you going to continue, or are we playing twenty questions?”
Nettie’s fine dark eyebrow rose, attempting to join her hairline. “So, you’re accepting your role?”
Billie decided to ignore the knife still lying on the floor beside her chair. “For now.” She waved the fork between the three of them. “How are we supposed to find these children we’re supposed to protect? And what makes you think Brittany Johnson’s baby is one of them?”
Porter smiled, white teeth gleaming under the Tiffany lamp suspended over the table. “The mot aren’t going to waste their time killing the mother if they weren’t sure.”
She placed her fork on her plate. He could not possibly be saying what she thought he was. But it would explain why a certain ghost had been harassing her lately. “Does Cyrus Johnson know his unborn child is one of these special children?”
“Of course not.” Nettie’s voice had picked up the stentorian tones she used when lecturing a class. “He’s human, not a Neteru shabti. Albeit a very stupid human since he refuses to follow his ka to the afterlife.”
Billie rubbed her temples, the growing headache making her wish she didn’t have to ask the next question. “Okay, I’ll bite. What’s a ka?”
“You’ve seen the white lights that follow a newly deceased person like Cyrus, right?” Nettie said.
At Billie’s nod, Porter reached for her hand again, and this time she didn’t pull away. “The human soul is comprised of three parts. The ka remembers the way home.”
“If the human’s too stupid to listen to himself, there’s all kind to things waiting to turn him into a snack.” If the professor’s words weren’t enough, her scowl defined her opinion of the person’s lack of smarts.
Billie glared at Nettie, but she couldn’t repress her shudder. She’d seen the results one too many times. “Thanks for clarifying that little tidbit.”
“It also means Apep can hurt the rest of the Neteru through us,” Nettie added.
Billie frowned. “Because our souls are split?”
Nettie nodded.
Oxygen froze in Billie’s lungs. She’d seen the thing that had devoured the ghost of her mother, bit by bit, in Grandma’s front yard. To know now she had real power. To know that maybe she could have saved Mom as she had Marcus—
To know she may be in danger of suffering the same fate as her mother.
She couldn’t think, not with Porter stroking the back of her hand with his thumb, trying to calm her. The one thing she needed was to keep her wits sharp. She tugged her hand free and crossed her arms. “You mean kill us and eat our souls.” Neither of them flinched at her angry tone.
“Yes.” Nettie’s sharp answer didn’t have the nasty, poisonous talons of the sek, but the pain was the same.
“I could have saved my mother if I remembered what I was all those years ago?” Rage and grief poured through her. If she was a Neteru, had her existence driven her mother mad while she was pregnant? Was it her fault Gisele Edmunds had gone insane bringing her into this world?
“Yes.” Nettie had the grace to look embarrassed.
“No.” Porter leaned back in his chair, the remaining bite of his sweet roll forgotten. “Channeling that kind of power as a child could have destroyed your current body.”
Billie nibbled on her bottom lip. She’d like to think she would have saved her mother, but if she was Selket and knew she was Selket, would she have saved the woman who brought her into this world?
Time to change the subject before she did go crazy over the paradox. “What would have happened if I’d accidentally died before I found the rest of you?”
“The essence in us will rejoin our Neteru,” Porter said. “Our knowledge becomes part of the whole. Unless something captures or destroys the fragment.”
Billie cocked her head. “Like this Apep or his minions?”
He nodded.
The information tumbled through her mind. Their crazy logic made a certain sense. Almost.
She sucked in a deep breath of cinnamon and orange-laced air. “Okay, let’s assume I buy all your bullshit. What do we do to keep Brittany and the baby safe?”
Porter and Nettie looked at each other. If she didn’t know better, she would’ve thought they were having an entire conversation in front of her. For all she knew about their abilities, they may be.
Finally, Porter’s attention returned to Billie. He cleared his throat before beginning. “Stay as close to her as possible.”
“Reyna said she’s being held overnight for observation,” Nettie added.
Billie closed her eyes. This was getting messier by the minute. “University Hospital won’t be safe. Not if one of your mot possesses someone who works there.” The scrape of chair legs made her open her eyelids.
Porter slung his leather coat over his shoulders. “No one will question my presence or the twins’. I can keep watch over Brittany until you two fill the girls in.”
A weak smile tugged at the corner of Billie’s lips. “Do you really think they’re going to handle your fairy tale better than me?”
He shrugged, his cocky grin making her think of things that had nothing to do with demons or prophesized babies. “Depends on how much they’ve been lying to themselves.” A commotion at the back door punctuated his words.
“Sweet rolls!” Reyna’s face lit up as she plowed through the door, followed by her sister.
Nettie ignored the twins, her intense gaze on Porter. “I want to question the mot in Gorman.”
He nodded. “Call me when you’re done here. I’ll get you in.” A wink at Billie sent flutters through her stomach before he strode into the living room. The sound of the front door opening and closing followed.
Billie sipped her cold chamomile tea. What was she thinking? Saving children from demons? The whole story sounded so fantastic, so unbelievable. Then why did her gut confirm everything Nettie and Porter said?
Kyra knelt by Billie’s chair. When the gothette rose, the knife Nettie had thrown dangled between Kyra’s thumb and forefinger. “Who the hell is leaving knives on the floor?”
* * *
All in all, the talk with the twins went about as Billie expected.
Reyna’s wide, green eyes shifted from Billie to Nettie and back again. “You’re both nucking futs,” the medical resident finally said, her snack long forgotten. It was the closest she ever came to swearing.
“I think it’s totally cool!” Kyra scraped her fork along the ceramic plate to collect the last drops of cinnamon syrup before licking them off the stainless steel. “What kind of powers will I have?”
“The sisters are powerful magicians—” Nettie started.
“So, I can, like, wiggle my nose to clean the bathroom?”
Billie choked back her laughter at the endearing, hopeful look on Kyra’s face.
Nettie glared at the gothette. “No.”
Apparently, Reyna didn’t find her sister’s enthusiasm cute either from the way she shoved back from the table and jumped to her feet. “This is stupid.” Her intense gaze focused on Billie. “I can’t believe you’re going along with this charade.” She jabbed a finger in Nettie’s direction. “I expect this crap out of Professor Nutcase, but I thought you had common sense.”
For only having on the rubber-soled shoes she wore on duty at the hospital, Reyna made a racket as she stomped out of the kitchen and up the stairs. The slamming of a bedroom door nailed the coda on her anger.
Nettie started to rise, but Billie laid a hand on her forearm. “Let me. She expects the crazy stuff out of you two—”
“Hey!” Kyra protested.
Billie shot an apologetic smile at Kyra before she turned back to Nettie. “It’s me she’s pissed with for backing up your story.”
To her surprise, Nettie relented with a nod. Muscles whined in protest as Billie climbed to her feet. Too much sitting on the hard wooden chair had stiffened every bruise she’d earned the last few days.
The wail in her muscle fibers turned into a scream as Billie climbed the staircase. She hesitated between the bathroom and Reyna’s closed door. Yep, she was going to need the painkillers before dealing with her roomie. Two ibuprofen later, she knocked on the door.
“Go jump into the river!” came the muffled answer.
Turning the knob, she stuck her head in the room. “It’s too cold.” Incense tickled her nose, and she blinked to adjust her eyes to the dim light from a single low-watt lamp.
Reyna glared up at her from the sitting lotus position she held on her yoga mat. “If you’re here to talk nonsense—”
Billie eased down on emerald green comforter covering Reyna’s bed. It was the only way to get her aching hips and back to shut up long enough to form a coherent argument. “I know how incredible all this sounds—”
“Yeah, like you all should be committed.” Reyna’s attention shifted to the floor, fingers plucking the hem of her scrub shirt.
“And normally, I’d agree with you.” Billie drew a deep breath. That hurt almost as much as the bruises on her lower body. Releasing the breath, she yanked her hair out of its ponytail and scratched her scalp. “If I hadn’t gotten tossed around by a monster in the graveyard on my way home from the club Friday night.”
Reyna still wouldn’t meet Billie’s eyes.
“And you were convinced when you checked out Gorman for Nettie,” Billie added.
“He—” Reyna looked around her room and Billie followed her friend’s gaze. The framed diplomas hanging from the walls. The fencing trophies. The laundry spilling out of her hamper.
Nice normal things that suddenly seemed totally foreign. Yeah, it didn’t take mind-reading abilities to understand Reyna’s confusion.
No, not confusion. Haunted was the only word Billie could think of when Reyna finally faced her.
“He wasn’t just—” She stopped, struggling to put the experience into nice, neat medical terminology. Except in the end, she couldn’t. “Being around him. It like experiencing pure evil. Everyone in the ward felt it. The staff. The patients.”
Acid curdled around the sweet roll in Billie’s stomach. She knew all too well exactly what Reyna meant. “It wasn’t Gorman. It was the thing inside him.”
Reyna slowly nodded. “I know. I could see it inside of him. One of the nurses suggested calling a priest for an exorcism when none of the meds could calm him down.” She sniffed back the emotion threatening to overwhelm her. “So, you see dead people, huh? Think you’ll get a cable show like one of those psychics?”
Billie snorted. “Not with a history of mental illness in my human family.”
“Except we’re not crazy, are we?” Reyna sounded like she needed reassurance.
“No, we’re not crazy.” Billie smiled. “Unfortunately, I have the bruises to prove it.”
No comments:
Post a Comment