Annabeth Neverending Page 21

  “Must be an animal. A rabbit or something.” C. J. assures.

  But I know better. I’m certain that I can see Gabriel hiding in the darkness, much as Kha did in ancient Egypt. What kind of coward creeps so? Only the worst kind. Only the guiltiest kind. Is he waiting for us? What’s he going to do next?

  I’m not sure I want to find out.

  “I think it’s Gabriel,” I caution.

  C. J. runs over to explore, but Gabriel’s already gone. C. J. does his best to investigate, to hunt down his brother, but it’s too late.

  And yet, even though he’s nowhere to be found, I hear his voice ringing with the words, “You’re next. You’re next.”

  And if I’m next, that means…He killed Mrs. Lansing?

  I thought I knew him. At least well enough to be certain he wasn’t a murderer. But he must have used black magic on my poor Mrs. Lansing.

  And I’m next.

  The threats won’t stop coming. They pierce my mind. Those two words are enough to devastate me, terrorize me. My legs feel like jelly, and my teeth grind together in anxiety.

  “Can you hear that?” I ask C. J., but he shakes his head.

  “Annabeth, you’re still in shock.”

  “No, he was here. And Gabriel’s using magic to whisper in my ear. He keeps telling me that I’m next! You have to believe me,” I croak.

  C. J. pauses, looking at my face, assessing my fear.

  “I always do, don’t I?” he says.

  And it’s true, he does.

  I didn’t choose Gabriel, so now he’s intent on hurting me, making me suffer for my mistake. Even though Mrs. Lansing was his biggest champion. Clearly, he’s not in his right mind. The evil side of him has won; it’s taken over.

  Is there any good left? Will getting his revenge on me be enough? Where will he stop? When will this reach its conclusion?

  Gabriel says he’s coming for me, and I don’t doubt it. After all, no matter the identity, Kha or Gabriel, he’s always been good at keeping his word.

  “Let’s do it. We’ll run away together. Right now,” I say insistently.

  C. J. looks at me intently. He must be trying to measure how serious I am.

  “Is getting away from him the only reason?” C. J. asks, his eyebrow raised.

  “No, it’s not. I want to be with you. Why wait?”

  I shake uncontrollably. Before, I was never as fearful of Gabriel as I should have been because I thought his feelings for me…I don’t know…protected me from the depths of his wrath. But now, I worry that he’s been saving all his rage, all his frustration, to turn it upon me with a vengeance.

  I can see how it grows old. Who knows how many times I’ve rejected him? But just how far-reaching is his desire for retribution? Even Mrs. Lansing, somebody he purportedly cared for, wasn’t safe from his malice.

  If I run away, I’ll hurt my family.

  But if he’s chasing me, it’ll keep him busy, which means they’ll stay safe.

  I hope I’m right in the gamble.

  I’ll miss them. Maybe I’m not one of them biologically, but hasn’t reincarnation shown me that the connections of souls are what matters? That blood is secondary? That the people you actively decide to be with are the relationships that last?

  And when they adopted me, didn’t they choose me?

  Upon my return home, I’m greeted with bad news from my father.

  “Last night, there was a break-in at the Museum of Fine Art. Only one item was stolen, a golden ankh pendant. I would’ve waited to tell you, but the press has gotten hold of the story, and I thought it might be better coming from me,” my dad says gently.

  Suddenly, it’s as though I’ve gone deaf, like my eardrums have blown out, and I am no longer capable of hearing any sounds but my own inhaling and exhaling.

  “They say they have numerous leads.”

  I engage in a complete meltdown, which used to be pretty unlike me. Don’t get me wrong; I’ve always been prone to dramatics, but until recently, I never threw things…not in front of anyone else, anyway. I’m seething with anger, and I need a place to direct it. I launch whatever’s handy: the remote control, a magazine, my purse—not at Howie or my dad—but in their general direction. After all, I don’t want to hurt anyone. I just want to vent, in a very loud and disruptive manner.

  Mew Mew is anxious to avoid my rage and runs from the room. I think about how Ana was subject to projectile fits. Clearly, she is a part of me.

  “People don’t just break into the Museum of Fine Art!” I scream.

  “Maybe they do if they’re after something in particular,” says my father sadly. Surely he’s worried I’ll never forgive him for allowing my mother to sell my ankh, and I’m worried he’s right.

  “Maybe aliens took it,” Howie offers. “Or…Maybe Annabeth took it!”

  “I wish I could’ve! If only.”

  Though now that he mentions it, it probably looks that way. I imagine I’m on their list of suspects, I think with a laugh. And then, for a split second, I wonder if Howie was able to secretly pull some sort of major heist; but I know that while he’s sneaky, he’s certainly no mastermind. It had to be have been Gabriel. Somehow, his black magic worked around the tightest security in existence.

  Well…maybe not that tight…

  I already have Sethe, but I need the ankh in order to see Nefertari again. Now I’ll never know how my own story as Ana ended.

  “I’m sure it’ll pop up,” says my dad, rather unconvincingly.

  When my mother finally appears, she’s beside herself when we tell her that the ankh is gone.

  “Norma, I never should’ve let you sell it. I knew it wasn’t right. I’ll never roll over like that again, Annabeth. I swear,” my father insists.

  “I’m so sorry,” my mom says sadly.

  “You had no idea this would happen. Who could’ve seen this coming? I forgive you,” I say genuinely.

  And I do. Even if I didn’t fully before, I do now. As usual, my parents were trying to operate in my best interest; they were attempting to protect me. And I’ve taken them for granted. They’re the ones who’ve been here for me all along.

  “With everything you’ve gone through today, I feel bad that I’ve been such a jerk lately,” says Howie.

  “You, a jerk? You obviously don’t know what a real jerk is,” I say while gripping his shoulder.

  “I can learn,” he says with a grin.

  It’s hard to tear myself away, but if I get too emotional, if I tarry too long, they may start to suspect that something is amiss. I head up to my room to get my things together.

  How does one prep for a getaway anyhow? I have a hard time picking out what to pack for a sleepover. I struggle because I know I should only bring what can fit into one bag. Jeans are an obvious necessity and underwear and some tops. Beyond that, it’s anyone’s guess. I wish I could ask Bernadette her opinion, but I don’t dare.

  I’ll miss York. It’s been good to me. It was a nice, wholesome place to grow up. Who knows where we’ll be going now? Living under the radar? Taking on new identities? Have I seen too many movies? Or maybe I haven’t seen enough…How does one go about running away anyhow? Especially when black magic is chasing you. Is there really anywhere to hide?

  What I can’t figure out is why. Gabriel seemed to have loved Mrs. Lansing as much as I did. How could he have murdered her? Did she find out something damaging, something that he didn’t want me or C. J. to know? Was she calling me to ask for help? Did she know that Gabriel was the one who killed her?

  How could I have thought for so much as a second that I wanted to be with him? It was all part of his magical manipulation. Part of his treacherous trickery. How far back does his plotting extend?

  I return to my room, tuck the small amount of money I’ve saved in my purse, and sling b
oth my bags over my shoulder. I begin my descent. Once I hit the ground, I head straight for C. J.’s car and wait nervously next to his driveway, hoping nobody else will notice my departure. Only a sliver of the sun can still be seen, but it’s left a trail of glowing pink and orange color that pervades the sky.

  I continue to scan the premises for Mew Mew, hoping she turns up. By the time we finally get on the road, we’ll be escaping under a cloak of blackness. Something about that feels right…and oddly familiar.

  I stifle a shriek when I feel something brush up against my legs. I look down and see it’s Mew Mew rubbing up against me. I’m relieved that I won’t have to desert her, seeing as I’m deserting everyone else who matters to me.

  An object is glittering in her mouth, catching the diminishing light.

  I go lightheaded, woozy. It’s too much. She’s got the ankh in her tiny jaws! Where did it come from? How did Mew Mew get a hold of it?

  Something is very strange, very wrong. It couldn’t be more suspicious. How did the ankh get here all the way from the museum in Boston? Could Mew Mew have rescued it for me? Or did somebody, like Gabriel, give it to her to bring to me? And why would he use a cat as a mode of delivery? Just how smart are cats supposed to be anyway?

  It’s almost like she’s human…

  I know I should hesitate. I know this smacks of wrongdoing, of sorcery, of deception. But I’ve become a master of self-delusion. Sweet little Mew Mew implores me with her two-toned eyes. And…I need the ankh, come what may. I have to mine the rest of Ana’s memories for all they’re worth.

  The idea may be bad, but the timing couldn’t be better.

  I stare at the ankh’s gleaming splendor, and I know it’s awaiting my familiar touch. I’ve missed it. It needs me. I smile broadly at the thought of our reunion. Just one more time.

  I swear this will be the last. I simply can’t keep gambling like this. Though I dread the consequences, I yearn for the memories, the knowledge. Finally, I surrender to the pendant’s pull. Like a crack addict who can’t kick her habit, I reach for the ankh to get my next fix. And soon I’m on an ancient Egyptian high.

  24

  There is a brilliant flash, and I am kneeling at Majesty Mother’s bedside. I am alone, as no slaves are permitted to observe royals in a time of weakness. She is sleeping, and she already looks like she is gone. Perhaps this is Osiris’s way of preparing me for the inevitable.

  Majesty Mother has on her wig and full makeup, but her cheeks have sunken in dramatically and look stark and hollow. The doctors say that she has grown deathly ill because of a blight called cancer, but I know the true reason for her affliction. She has lost the will to live because Ramses has forsaken her. He has fallen for Isetnofret, and a broken heart is what truly ails her.

  Kha is here, presumably providing some sort of spiritual support, yet nothing Kha does seems to make a difference. I suspect he does not want to make a difference. He wants her to die. Perhaps he is even helping things along with his black magic. I would not put it past him, especially when his hands are hidden and I do not know what evil he is enacting with them.

  Majesty Mother awakens and struggles to breathe, and it comes in labored spurts when my father and Isetnofret enter the room.

  “No, I do not wish to spend what little is left of my life gazing at that hideous whore,” she spits out.

  “Spoken like a true queen,” sneers Isetnofret, who looks to Majesty Father for reinforcement. But she finds none. Instead, he nods at her to do as she is bidden. She leaves in a huff, with Kha accompanying her, ostensibly in a show of solidarity.

  I must admit, I very much enjoy Majesty Mother’s uncharacteristic behavior. She still has her spirit, even if her body is breaking down.

  Majesty Father rushes to mother’s side and bows his head. This is shocking to me because I have never seen my father, my pharaoh, show anyone such deference. He kisses her hands, her face, and she sobs.

  “Please, I must speak to Ana for a moment. Alone.”

  Majesty Father looks to me with shock, as though disbelieving that she would cut short her last earthly moments with him in order to talk to me. But it is his own fault that he lost favor in her emotions. He leaves, though it clearly pains him, as he leans even more heavily than usual on his cane.

  Majesty Mother looks at me, her bloodshot eyes ringed with sadness. “Most of my regrets have to do with you, Ana. I should have been your advocate; I should have put your welfare above my own. But it was hard to imagine losing that power…though it should have been my proudest sacrifice.

  “Please, say you will forgive me?” she begs.

  “I do! But I beseech you, do not leave me. How can I face life alone?” I ask, wracked with sobs. I fall upon her, needing to touch her while I still can, no longer caring about what is proper anymore.

  “I think we both know that you are not alone, Ana. I am not blind. I know how you care for Sethe. Yes, it is forbidden, but love finds a way. You must follow your heart. Do not rest on practicality as I did.”

  I hear the sound of soft paws upon hard marble. My sweet little cat, Mew Mew, has come to say her own good-byes. How precious she is, my feline friend.

  Majesty Mother cries to the heavens. She takes a hold of my hand and jerks me toward her. She practically pulls my arm out of alignment. “You must pray to Bast…that cat…that cat!”

  And now Majesty Mother has lost the ability to speak. But she thought the cat was so important, she spoke of her to the very last.

  I shall never lose sight of this animal again. Majesty Mother saw Mew Mew as the picture of security. I will keep this feline close and protect her as she protects me, as hopefully my mother will protect me from harm while on the other side in paradise.

  There is another flash.

  A collection of priests, including Kha, stand in somber silence as the tomb of Nefertari is closed with a scraping of stone against stone. I turn toward Majesty Father and notice that tears are streaming down his wizened cheeks. This causes his eye makeup to make dark rivulets upon his skin, and Isetnofret leans over to wipe the saltwater streams away.

  I wish Sethe could provide me some comfort, but he is forced to stand away from us, with the rest of the slaves. Kha walks to my side and looks at me as though he shares my sadness, but I know deep down that this is all an act. The only thing he wishes for is a marital tie to the royal family and, inevitably, the throne.

  “I am so sorry for your loss, dearest Ana. Is there anything I can do to help you work through your grief? There…are ways.”

  Ah, so he is offering up a spell. How magnanimous. But I want nothing to do with his black arts.

  “That will not be necessary. I wish to experience it all, every bit of my sadness. Out of respect to my mother.”

  “Suit yourself. But I shall not always ask. Typically, I use my powers solely at my own discretion,” Kha reminds me with a cruel sneer.

  There is another flash.

  Suddenly, strangely, I look about and find myself in the vast throne room. Usually it is filled with courtiers, or servants, but now it is empty, save a guard in the distance, who is regarding me curiously. Judging from the darkness, the stillness, it is the middle of the night. I should be safe in my bed, slumbering.

  Why am I here? How am I here?

  “What is going on?” I ask myself aloud.

  Sethe materializes and pulls me toward him. He leans in to speak to me. “You were walking in your sleep again,” he explains gently.

  “Again?”

  “It is a habit with you of late. I have convinced everyone in the palace that you merely stroll about when you cannot sleep. Though it is off-putting, we are lucky that you sleepwalk with your eyes open. No one else can know.”

  I let him guide me back to my rooms, grateful that such a man has found it within him to make my worries—worries I did not even know about—h
is own. But I fret over the sleepwalking, not just because it is strange and disconcerting, but because it is a bad sign. One that foretells of terrible things, scary things.

  There is another flash.

  I do not wish to awaken. Has the sleepwalking tapped me out entirely? Getting out of bed has become a struggle, but I force myself. Sethe is worried that my melancholia will lead me down a road of self-devastation, just as Majesty Mother’s did. But I cannot summon the strength. He and my maid come in to rouse me, to force me to find a reason to live.

  “You must go on. For all of us.”

  I suppose they are right. I am too young to surrender this easily. I reluctantly rise, though I feel a cavernous void inside. I remind myself that Sethe is here, and that as long he is alive, my existence is one worth enjoying. Even if we cannot be together.

  “See? I have dressed and readied for the day. Surely you can have no complaints now.”

  “I do not,” he replies, appearing relieved. He cares for me in a way I have never known. He looks out for my well-being and does it with no ulterior motives, simply because of love.

  But before I get too comfortable, before I can begin to feel my life did not end the moment my mother’s did, Kha comes to visit me in my rooms. I am obliged to go and give him an audience. But I do not want to glance in his direction. Yes, he is attractive to the eye, appealing outwardly to the more superficial senses, but inside, he is pure evil. Who would suspect such malevolence could come dressed in so pretty a package?

  Sethe hangs in the background, trying to look like he is not listening, unconcerned with our talk, but I know he is taking in every word.

  “Princess, tomorrow will be our wedding day. Your father thought it best that it happen as quickly as possible, so that it may revive your sagging spirits…and so that we may be blessed with children all the sooner.”

  “I cannot wait. I shall be counting the seconds until we have been joined together,” I reply, but it is not sincere, and Kha flinches slightly. Does he realize that I am grossly exaggerating my feelings?

  He pulls me close and buries his face in my neck. He then brushes his lips across mine with force, with anger, with venom. “So you have a taste of what your future holds,” he says with a laugh.