Annabeth Neverending Read online

  I sigh, unable to determine if this new development is catastrophically bad or fantastically good. It feels like a bit of both. Why can’t something be black or white for a change? All this gray is fatiguing me. I bet Gabriel would be impressed if I told him it made me experience ennui. I stole that word straight from the PSAT.

  “So, I’m going to high school with you now. Pretty insane coincidence, huh?” C. J. says.

  That’s the understatement of the century. Though, given how long Sethe and I have known each other, millennium is more like it.

  I slip inside my shack of a house, and my ears perk up when I hear a scratching sound coming from outside. This would be the frustrating moment in a horror film when I’d yell at the girl on the screen, insisting that she not go seeking out the potential danger attached to the weird noise. Yet I don’t follow my moviegoing instincts. Instead, I brashly open the door in the dead of night. A cat bounds in, right past me.

  “Mew Mew?” I ask, numb.

  Had I not just met Sethe, I’d be running through the house, screaming in shock at her arrival. But I’m becoming better equipped to handle this sort of thing now. After all, finding a being from my past has become a bit anticlimactic. Just a matter of course.

  A cat is the one creature that makes sense in this context. They’re known for living multiple lives. I wonder which life she’s on currently.

  While I go through the motions, I know it’s my long-lost pet before I even begin to inspect her. Yet I bend down and pick the cat up, wanting to be certain. Her eyes glow in the overhead light, and I can see that they’re two vividly different colors. Confirmation acquired.

  “I hope you’re here to help me. Because I could sure use it.”

  I bolt into my room, with Mew Mew’s current incarnation securely secreted in my arms. I scratch behind my old/new friend’s ears. Her eyelids close tight while she purrs in contentment.

  “Do you think the ankh can fill some things in?”

  Mew Mew looks at me, reticent. She doesn’t seem to be of much assistance, though her presence soothes me.

  “One more time can’t hurt—that much, right?”

  Mew Mew meows sharply, though it’s not clear to me whether it’s in agreement or not.

  “I take that as a yes!”

  I look in the mirror, inspecting my elaborate makeup and itchy wig, noting how convenient it is that I’m already dressed for the occasion. I unlock my hope chest and remove the velveteen box before sitting down on my quilted bedspread.

  I gaze at it. The ankh mesmerizes me, hypnotizes me. I consider taking it into my hand as Mew Mew watches on, curious. Although I could be projecting. Maybe she doesn’t care that much after all.

  The ankh taunts me, as if telling me that everything I’m dying to discover is just a touch away. While my body will pay for it later—like it’s already been paying—I can’t help myself. Initially, I had the unlikely hope that I’d develop some sort of immunity to the side effects of the pendant, but they’ve become more severe. If I continue down this path, who knows what other discomforts I might be forced to endure. But I guess I’m a glutton for punishment.

  I need to uncover so much more. Facts I’ll never find in a book. This is a way of knowing my biological family, even if it isn’t my current biological family. Not a day has passed that I haven’t thought about them, wondered about them. How different I’d be if they’d raised me. How different things would be for my adoptive family if they hadn’t been forced to deal with my idiosyncracies.

  But that isn’t all I’m after. A person is the sum of all her experiences. That means that Sethe had a hand in shaping me, in honing my soul. Which is why I have to know what happened between us. How can I continue with Gabriel if that one big question mark lingers in the background? How can I give myself to him fully if part of my heart—even if it’s an old, withered part—still belongs to his brother?

  It may take more flashbacks, more memory retrievals, more seizures. But for the chance to know my own past after living a lifetime with no backstory at all, I’d undergo a thousand tortures.

  I grab the ankh, and everything from around me falls away, drifting out of reach.

  7

  I crumble, soon thrust back into my old life. Again, I have the feeling of twisting, pulling, displacement.

  The jarringly bright sun beats down on the palace and its grounds. The heat is so oppressive, it feels like I’m in an oven. I’m given the opportunity to look around briefly, and I see that I’m standing in what appears to be the palace courtyard.

  Considering that this is the desert, it’s astonishingly lush. There’s a large pool nearby, surrounded by aged trees with brightly colored exotic birds sitting in their branches. Brilliant paintings cover the dividing walls. They depict strange shapes, animals, and two-dimensional beings shown solely in profile.

  I’m holding a long wooden stick. This is crossed with another stick, grasped by Sethe, who’s standing in front of me. I don’t have the chance to fully take him in before he knocks his weapon against mine, creating a loud clacking sound.

  And then, he begins fighting Ana…me.

  I was battling my own bodyguard? My own slave?

  I can’t expend too much energy dwelling on the hows or whys, despite the fear that seizes me. This sort of combat must take a certain amount of skill and training—two things I lack. But I remind myself that I’m not in control—I’m just along for the ride.

  Sethe spins his stick around with such ease it looks like he was born for that purpose. I twirl mine like a majorette’s baton, masterfully weaving the stick in a dizzying array of figure eights, only stopping periodically to deflect Sethe’s blows.

  Our weapons collide again and again, and I’m impressed that I’m able to hold my own. But then, Sethe really lets loose. He launches into an astonishing series of back handsprings and backflips. I pray that I can follow suit and do something as showy, but it doesn’t happen. I must not have the ability. Unfortunately, this feeling of inadequacy is one I’m all too familiar with.

  Now I struggle to keep up. Finally, Sethe puts an end to the battle when he sweeps his leg under my feet. This causes me to topple over, and I’m now sprawled out unceremoniously on the dirt. In every life, I seem to wind up on the ground, looking the fool.

  “My old instructor allowed me to win every time,” I say in my defense.

  Ah, he was my teacher. And I was his pupil. So there was one place where he was in charge. He helps me to my feet, and I dust off my tightly pleated skirt.

  “He did you no favors. Your fighting skills should not be perfected solely for exhibitions like the Sed.”

  The Sed! From what I’ve read, the Sed festival was held in a proactive attempt at revitalizing a pharaoh’s image before it was deemed necessary. Better to keep the pharaoh ever present in the minds of his people. That would help reinforce his dominance. After all, a weak pharaoh was a dead pharaoh. And Ana was going to fight there, in front of crowds of hundreds, maybe even thousands. She was so much braver than I’ll ever be.

  “You must know how to defend yourself for your own safety,” Sethe points out ominously.

  “Is that not why I have you?” I ask.

  “Something terrible could befall me.”

  The thought sends shudders rippling through me, and I can’t shake its devastating effect on my former self.

  “While you are an excellent strategist and know the right moment to strike, your acrobatics need work,” he comments constructively.

  “Yes, Sethe.”

  “You will get there. Just relax your body and your mind. No fear, Princess. No fear.”

  Sethe goes on to spot me as I lay into a mind-boggling set of flips and handsprings. There’s even a perfectly executed toe touch! While I struggle with the move in the present day, in this body, it’s clean, it’s high, and it’s effortless.
>
  When we have finished the session, Sethe hands me a towel of baby-soft cotton to wipe away my perspiration. Ana can scarcely tear her eyes away from him now, and I can sense Ana’s feelings for him—my feelings for him—so strongly, it wrecks me.

  “If only I could love you openly.”

  But Ana does not utter these words aloud—I just heard her thoughts!

  Though it shouldn’t come as a shock. Memories aren’t just made up of sights and sounds but internal commentary as well. I must be slowly regaining every aspect of my most important memories from my former life in ancient Egypt. Maybe now all my questions will be answered. And I’ll be the one to answer them.

  “Let us take a respite,” Sethe commands. “After you, Princess.”

  Two figures are approaching, but it’s so blindingly bright that even when I’ve shielded my eyes, it’s impossible to identify them. In the distance, they’re shadow puppets, silhouettes against a stark blue background. But the closer they get, the easier it is to make out their features.

  One is the nasty prince from my first ankh-induced flashback. I feel my hands clench at the sight of him. Ana must loathe him for her body to react in this way. If only I could hear her thoughts at this moment to be certain.

  The other figure has a head that’s clean-shaven. He’s carrying a staff and is dressed in a sarong of sorts and woven sandals. He looks just like someone I know. Though I don’t instantly recognize him without his glasses. For while he’s become rather important to me, I didn’t expect to see him here.

  It’s Gabriel!

  That’s why we connect so well, why we’re so in sync after such a short time! We’ve known each other before.

  Gabriel, or whoever he is in this lifetime, is staring at me, even after I meet his gaze. But unlike most people caught in the act of gawking, he doesn’t look away. He stands there unapologetically, his icy eyes, so much colder than they are in the present day, burning right into me.

  The bad-tempered prince turns toward me and speaks in a condescending tone.

  “Ana, you remember Kha of Luxor?”

  “Of course. Though back then, you were known merely as Kha.”

  “Yes, much has changed, Princess. The position of my family has improved considerably.”

  “Indeed. I am most impressed.”

  The angry prince scowls in my direction. “Do not act so familiar, Ana. He is the new high priest. Be sure to show him the proper respect.”

  I bow in deference, which elicits a nod of acknowledgment from the Egyptian Gabriel.

  “Why must you persist in your stick fighting, sister? It is unbecoming of a princess. And learning from a lowly Hittite slave, no less,” says the prince, his lip curling in distaste.

  This jerk’s my brother? I’m underwhelmed with the siblings I’ve come to know in ancient Egypt. Maybe blood ties are overrated.

  “Only because Sethe has proven himself to be the most skilled stick fighter in our capital of Pi-Ramses,” I say, but then catch myself. “Except for you, dear Amun. Besides, Majesty Father encourages it. I shall be fighting in his honor at the Sed festival.”

  Wait…This is Amun? My intended? Oh no. Just when I think things can’t get any worse for my former self, then…they do. Did the ancient Egyptians routinely commit incest, or was Ana just one of the lucky few? I block out the idea of marrying Howie; the thought is too nauseating—and the two of us aren’t even biologically related.

  “When you are my wife, this nonsense shall cease,” says Amun with a scowl.

  My angered brother walks off without giving Kha so much as a second thought. Kha takes the opportunity to turn toward me. Perhaps because he has no qualms about staring at me/her, Ana looks him over slowly and deliberately in return. He has those familiar arching eyebrows, but this ancient version…He has a leering grin.

  “You are even more beautiful now than you were before.”

  I feel Ana’s cheeks heat with embarrassment and find myself admiring Kha for his boldness. Clearly, Gabriel is forward in every incarnation. “Thank you.”

  “Though we were but children when we met, I have thought of you often. You always showed me so much kindness, though I was but the son of a scribe.”

  “I enjoyed your company. Amun was never much fun.”

  Kha seems further emboldened by Ana’s comment. “Princess, should you ever be in need of my assistance, do not hesitate to let me know. I am yours”—he pauses purposefully—“for the asking.”

  Kha’s smoky voice is spellbinding, having a quality that Gabriel’s somehow lacks, and for a moment, I lose myself. I could drift away on a flying carpet of his words. But he brings me back when he bares all his teeth in a full smile. It reminds me of the Big Bad Wolf from “Little Red Riding Hood.” It looks like Kha wants to eat me up. I nod in response, and Kha is gone in an instant, as if he’s vanished into thin air.

  I turn to Sethe, who seems pensive, worried.

  “Kha could be a fine ally,” I point out.

  “Any friend of Amun’s is not an ally worth having.”

  Ana pauses. Perhaps she’s been waiting to ask this question for some time. “You are knowledgeable about so many things, and yet…Tell me; how did it happen? How is it that you were captured?”

  “I grew up in a tiny village in Hattusa known as York, which had been invaded years before by our enemies, your people. I helped lead an uprising so that we could regain our lands, but we failed miserably. We were no match for the strategizing of the Egyptians. I wanted to die I was so ashamed by our surrender. But I tell myself that the god Teshub had a special plan for me, as I was ‘a human trophy worthy of the pharaoh.’”

  “Praise Teshub!” I say zealously.

  “You need not speak blasphemy on my account.”

  “I will worship any god who saw fit to deliver you to my door,” I reply.

  Sethe seems stunned by my comment. He mumbles for a response, looking around nervously. While we feel alone when we’re together, we’re being watched. Slaves and other members of the court surround the periphery of our practice area.

  “Princess, this is a dangerous game we are playing,” Sethe says forebodingly.

  “Only if we lose,” I say softly.

  And then, I can hear Ana’s thought keenly: “I do not deserve your love, but someday, I shall earn it.”

  Ana (and I) looks up at Sethe, and our eyes meet. Our souls interlock. It’s as if everything else has been stripped away, and we can see each other for what we really are. Not a slave and a princess but a boy and a girl. We’re no longer living just for ourselves but for each other.

  8

  I come back from my trip down memory lane, as the ankh has fallen from my hand of its own accord. I crawl under the covers of my bed, still wearing my costume, too dragged out to change. Mew Mew slips in next to me, and I hug her tiny body to mine, feeling at peace now that I have a warm-blooded bit of ancient Egypt in my arms.

  “Gabriel was there! I loved Sethe more than I thought possible. And he was from a place called York—York! And my fiancé was my brother. Oh God, my fiancé was my brother…”

  I try to finish my thoughts, mixed up and scary and strange as they may be, but I drift off, spent.

  I awaken with a start, the alarm beeping. I know I shouldn’t, but I hit the snooze button. I’m too drowsy to remember, but I suspect that it isn’t the first time.

  My black wig is still on my head, and my Egyptian makeup is probably smeared all over my face, but lethargy wins out, and I don’t attempt to remedy either situation. Instead, I roll over on my side, hoping that I can carve out a few more moments of slumber before my mother comes in to pull me, kicking and screaming, to full consciousness.

  I hear heavy breathing and cautiously open my lids. Howie is seated right in front of me, watching me with his inquisitive brown eyes.

  “Um, w
hat are you doing?”

  “You didn’t wake up on time, and I wanted to make sure you weren’t having another seizure,” says Howie in a forceful whisper.

  “Not that I’m aware of,” I say, sliding by on a technicality, because I don’t know for certain myself. Though I probably did, if the spit dribbling down my chin is any indication.

  “Good,” says my brother as he exhales with relief. I’m touched that he seems genuinely relieved.

  “Aw, you love me! Do you want a hug? Do you want a kiss?” I ask, reaching out my arms to him, knowing full well that this’ll drive him away. And it works. He goes running, faster than I’ve seen him move before. My mom narrowly avoids getting steamrolled when she enters my room.

  “Careful!” she yells to the sound of his slamming door.

  My mother gives me a once-over. I must look pretty ridiculous.

  “I take it that you had quite a night.”

  “It was…interesting,” I say obliquely.

  I wait in vain for an accusation, but none comes. I’m almost insulted that my mom doesn’t suspect me of being hungover, but I suppose I’m too much of a Goody Two-shoes for that. She yanks on the cord to open the horizontal wooden blinds. They part slowly and creakily. But the light doesn’t pour in between the slats like usual.

  “Time for work!”

  “Ugh. It’s so dark,” I comment, my mouth turned in a tired frown.

  “No, it isn’t. Are you coming down with something?”

  I blink furiously, trying to get my eyes to focus. It doesn’t seem to be helping matters. Great. This must be another side effect. The light is so bright in ancient Egypt that everything now seems dim by comparison. In the movie of my life, it’s as though we’re shooting night for day. I can’t panic, even though this is the most frightening side effect yet.

  My mother pulls out a thermometer that’s handily located inside her pants pocket.

  “My eyes needed to adjust, that’s all,” I insist.

  My mother lets out a loud yelp. I practically jump out of my skin.