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Authors: Kasey Mackenzie

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My breath sucked in. “By all the gods and goddesses, they’re Imseti’s priests.” The missing priests mentioned by the Triad, to be precise.

 

Imseti was indeed another Death Lord, although he was more influential among arcanes than the minor funerary role Ancient Egyptians credited him with, and more accurately, an amalgam of the Four Sons of Horus, who were associated with the body’s vital organs and believed to reconstitute bodies for the dead, as opposed to the one son who shared his name. He bore little love for Mr. Jackal-Faced; by which I mean
loathed
him with a passion. Funny how that could be said for most deities—except for those minor ones Anubis had suckered into pledging allegiance to him. Finding a dozen of Imseti’s
followers here in Duat could mean only one thing: Anubis must have had the balls to imprison all twelve priests when Imseti sent them here to investigate the portal closures. As we were quickly discovering, there apparently weren’t many things Anubis wasn’t willing to do in the name of
love
.

 

The others tensed when I stepped forward, but I waved them off and strode forward half the distance between us and the pond. Likewise, a masculine figure broke away from their line and approached me in the middle. The closer he drew, the more convinced I became that I’d been right to trust my instincts. This was definitely no priest of Anubis’s.

 

The gold-on-black robe was the only resemblance. This man’s skin wasn’t the burnished bronze of Scott’s or even the deeper brown of his pure-blooded Egyptian mother’s, but the deepest shade of obsidian. His equally dark hair fell past his waist in thick dreadlocks that made me think of my serpents, but only briefly and only because they bounced fluidly as he walked. When he drew up a few feet away and regarded me with dark, unblinking eyes, that fancy faded.

 

“We have been waiting for you, Nemesis.” His voice rang with a musical lilt way stronger than Durra’s
or
her mother’s, bringing to mind a deeper part of Africa than northern Egypt or even Nigeria, where I was beginning to believe the Megaera hailed from.

 

I forced away my sense of insignificance—I came from my own long and distinguished line, and by gods, I was a
Nemesis
and would damned well
act
like one. “Greetings to you, Priest of Imseti. This is a long way from his realm. How is it that you come to be here at
all
, much less are waiting for me?”

 

He bowed deeply at the touch of suspicion in my voice. “Peace, Nemesis, we mean you no harm. My name is Mijai; I am the senior of our priests, who have been imprisoned in this part of Duat against our will and against that of our patron Imseti as well. It was only when the foul Jackal left to send out forces against you that we were able to escape and make our way here.”

 

If the past few months had taught me anything, it was that things that seemed too good to be true usually
were
, in one way if not the other. “And you knew to wait for us here
how
?”

 

Mijai motioned and another black-robed figure, this one feminine, hurried forward. “Because I am a Seer, Nemesis. Once we broke free from our collars, I was able to divine your most likely course.”

 

Scott and Elliana gave Cat-like hisses at that revelation. Anubis had designed the hated collars that could enslave one arcane to another’s will millennia ago and allowed them to be used against his own children. One reason they so rarely went against his wishes …

 

I acknowledged the Seer with a nod but kept my attention on the first priest. They obviously wanted something from me, and I was still trying to decide whether or not to trust them. Their story made perfect sense, but that didn’t make it
true
. Something else my lovely
former
mentor had taught me. “If you divined that as you claim, then you undoubtedly saw my purpose for coming here.”

 

Mijai motioned to the Seer again, who spoke up. “Yes, you plan to open a portal to send word to another Nemesis of your progress here in Duat. I could not see more than that, of course, as you are on a gods-blessed Mandate, but I
could
see that we can trust you to help us.”

 

I shifted my weight slightly, ready should this devolve into an unexpected ambush. “And why should I take time from that gods-blessed Mandate to help you?”

 

Mijai spoke this time. “Because we can prove that which you may already suspect: The Jackal-god has been transmuting Anubian shades into the bodies of unsuspecting souls. Or rather, I should say he has been forcing
us
to do that very thing, since
once
only our lord had that power.”

 

Nausea churned inside my stomach again, but Scott asked the inevitable question before I could, “What do you mean
once
only he had that power?”

 

The Seer spat upon the ground at her feet. “Anubian priests used their vile collars to force us to first transmute their chosen souls, then to teach several of
them
how to do the same. We dragged the process out as long as we could and made sure we failed more than we succeeded, but the more they experimented, the more success they had. Now, they need us no longer—which is why we took the chance to escape when we could.”

 

Her partner nodded. “We likely would have survived little longer. At my best guess, the Jackal-god would have transmuted Anubians into
our
bodies before sending us back to our earthly temple since he couldn’t simply kill us.”

 

My lips twisted. “You would have just warned your lord what his enemy was up to.”

 

He nodded. “Exactly so. The Jackal-god is setting his sights higher and higher; for what exact purpose we cannot say, but it can bode no good for the other deities, including our own. We risked coming here to pledge ourselves as proof that Anubis is violating immortal law but also because we rescued another being held captive
by him, another who most desperately wishes to speak with you.”

 

A third figure stepped forward, lowering the hood of her robe to reveal that, unlike the others, she possessed the dull coloring of a shade’s Underworld manifestation. My gaze took in her red hair, blue eyes, and familiar face as surprise flooded over me. This woman was no stranger although she was someone I hadn’t seen—not truly—in over two long decades.

 

“Gods, Riss my lass, it is
so
good to see you!” She held her arms out, and those two decades faded away. I threw myself into her arms with none of my earlier hesitation.
This
was the woman I’d missed for so long: my grandmother, Maeve.

 
CHAPTER TWELVE
 

HAVING HER ARMS WRAP AROUND ME FELT
like coming home, more so even than when Mom had miraculously walked back into my life, mostly because Nan had taken a sabbatical from the Sisterhood that first decade of my life to raise me while Dad held down his prealcohol nine-to-five, and Mom did her thing as an active Fury. Don’t get me wrong—Mom had been an amazing mother in the short twelve years I had her, but she’d never been the homemade-cookies and bread-fresh-from-the-oven type like
her
mother had been.

Then reality intruded, and I pushed away to regard her in horror. Grayscale coloring and snakes in tattoo form pointed to the ugly truth my brain had initially tried to ignore. She was, without a doubt, a full-on shade. Meaning she could only be …

 

“But—but how did you
die
? You seemed fine a few
hours ago. Unless …that wasn’t you at all.” Gods, had that not been her in the hospice all those years? “We all thought
you
killed
Medea
!”

 

Her lips twisted grimly. “I killed her Harpy ass all right; but she made a pact with the devil beforehand. When her body died, she managed to throw her spirit inside mine. I’ve spent the last twenty damned years fighting that bitch for control.”

 

Gone was every ounce of the former sisterly affection that had sent Maeve hunting to put Medea out of her misery. Though after two decades of a living nightmare, who could blame her? “So, wait. If you didn’t die, then why—”

 

“Am I trapped in this hellhole as a shade?” She folded her arms with a distinctly crabby expression. “It was the damnedest thing a few months ago. We were lying in that hospital bed the same as usual when something—changed. Felt like yet another spirit wormed its way inside my body, and nothing I did made a lick of difference. They’d quiet down now and again, and I’d feel like maybe I might finally get the strength to wake all the way up, but then—the devil himself stepped in.”

 

“Anubis.” I’d done the math, and nothing else added up. Stacia wouldn’t have bothered visiting Nan for all those years if she hadn’t known good and well her lover was inside her enemy’s physical shell. They’d obviously made whatever pact they had with Anubis prior to Nan’s attacking Medea, and Stacia had probably been trying to help oust Nan completely during her visits—with no luck.
Her
bargain with Satan—er, Anubis—had then kicked in when I killed
her
crazy butt several months ago, allowing her to bolster her lover’s spiritual strength until they finally wrested control from Nan right before
my serial-killer case kicked into high gear. They’d forced Nan out of her own body, and Anubis had held her hostage here since her body still lived, and he couldn’t risk Nan’s shade ratting him out to the powers that be.

 

I let out a breath. “Medea has your body in the Palladium. Meaning you’re not truly dead, and we still have a chance to restore you.”

 

She gave me an approving smile. “That’s my grandbaby!”

 

Durra cleared her throat. “I hate to be the wet blanket—”
Sure
, she did. “But that’s not going to be as easy as you make it sound. First of all, Maeve’s shade can’t just hop from here to there through a portal like the rest of us. Secondly, Medea isn’t going to hand the body over without a fight.”

 

Proving I did indeed come from her bloodline, Nan’s smile only widened. “Oh, I hope not!”

 

Durra’s eyes glinted with an emerald sheen Nan’s shade couldn’t quite manage, but our Megaera sister didn’t crack an answering smile. “Third, we’ll need someone to help pull a transmutation in reverse. Assuming that’s even possible?”

 

Mijai tilted his head in consideration. “Honestly, we’ve never tried it in reverse. Our lord designed it as a spell to be used only against traitors, who would instantly face Reckoning once a loyal shade took over their body and they met our lord in the Underworld. Theoretically, it
should
be possible …but we’ll need both the original shade and her body in still living form. And it will need to happen here since we cannot guarantee your grandmother’s safety as a shade elsewhere.”

 

“Guess that means you’re coming with us to the Hall of Two Truths, Nan.”

 

Mijai blinked at that announcement. “You mean to invoke the Feather? But against wh—” His eyes widened, and fierce pleasure swept across his features. “Anubis. You mean to call Ma’at’s Feather down upon him.”

 

Well, guess
that
cat was out of the bag. “Indeed I do. Providing we make it there before
he
makes it to us.” I narrowed my eyes in calculation. “Your Seer claimed I could help you, but now I’m thinking it will be the opposite. We’ll need at least one of your number with us to restore my grandmother to her rightful place once we lure Medea here with her body.” Something I was willing to bet would be pretty easy once Nemesis and the Cat tracked down Stacia’s shade wherever it was hiding in Duat. “Any others of your number who can help us reach the Hall safely would be
more
than welcome. The Triad would owe both you and your lord a tremendous debt of gratitude.” Sweetening the pot never hurt anything.

 

His nostrils flared as he considered. I found it
more
reassuring that he didn’t just blindly pledge his companions to the cause. With the exception of Nan—kind of—the rest of us were still very much alive and breathing, meaning we stood to lose everything we knew on earth if we were killed there. Okay, and excepting me, since I still had just under forty-eight hours of true immortality remaining.

 

He glanced at the Seer beside him, who nodded. “I can’t divine much under these circumstances and without my tools, but I do know that our lord approves. But—you and me only. The others
he
has need of.”

 

Well, not as good as I had hoped, but far better than nothing; and if things were shaping up down there the way they seemed to be, Imseti was only smart to marshal
his forces—in case I failed, and Anubis got his gods-bedamned war.

 

“Okay, we need to make this snappy, then, before Jackal-Faced senses the portal and tries to intervene. Here’s the plan: Sahana will put us into touch with Ala so we can get word to my mother and the Megaera. Once we do, Sahana will convert the scrying portal to one for traveling, and you can send your people through. It will be way easier for them to get back to earth from Ala’s territory than from here. As far as I know, She’s on good terms with your patron …” Mijai and the Seer nodded. “Then let’s get this show on the road!”

 

Everyone burst into action; the Imsetians clearing a path for Sahana, Durra, and me to inch as close to the pool as we could come without actually toppling inside. Grass gave way to smooth white pebbles that encircled the water’s perimeter. I almost felt guilty for disturbing the precise rock pattern someone had taken great pains to lay out, but then I remembered they’d been handmaidens of the Jackal-Faced prick, and guilt pretty much evaporated. Sahana crouched at the water’s edge and began chanting, using some of that erstwhile Death energy she’d claimed from the aborted portal earlier to begin linking the pool’s perfect reflecting surface with an answering mirror in Ala’s realm.

BOOK: Blackhearted Betrayal
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