Page 85 of Immortal Sun

I ignore all the signs because to believe anything else means a nervous breakdown. I think I’m doing pretty good until my hands are shaking so hard I can barely unwrap an artifact. I quickly set it down and get on my phone to Prime in some rosemary and sage, and a shit ton, enough to cleanse the house ten times.

The things Cyrus even said about Jake were weird as if he has him in a dungeon somewhere. I was too weirded out and petrified to ask if he knew exactly where he went. Maybe I am going crazy though. Mom used to say weird things before the end, but that’s what happens when you stare out the window during storms as if you wish you could be electrocuted. I miss her. I miss her so much, but in the end, sometimes I wonder if it was better that she had to pass that way, because she seemed more and more miserable. Petrified some days, happy the next.

Is the same thing happening to me?

I focus my thoughts on all I have. Research. Jake. Breathing.

I can at least look through Jake’s work.

History, after all, never lets you down. Books are truth: black ink, white paper, artifacts show us things from years of being buried we would never have known had we not searched. For a while, they center you in a reality even if it’s part fantasy; someone still created it, birthed it.

I pull in a long breath. I open up The Book of the Dead and read through the names.

Just focus on death and not the gorgeous man upstairs who says he’s going to be the one to bring it, sounds super easy. Yup, don’t focus on the gorgeous man upstairs who’s having a mid-life crisis and thinks he’s the God of the Sun, or his best friend who old ladies follow down the street, or, you know, the grumpy contractor who saved your life, or even the weirdly beautiful man who seems to hate Cyrus with every fiber of his being only to come over for dinner like he has no choice.

I forgot about the store. Crap, where did I even put the bag of clothes? The necklace? I touch my neck and nearly pass out. The necklace is on me. I don’t remember putting it there. Does that mean my clothes are in my room? Closet? Put away? Did I sleepwalk?

I want to scream. Instead, I slam the book shut, only to open it again out of frustration and stupid curiosity.

What is wrong with this house? With the sanity of the people who live in it? I suck in another breath then deep dive back into the book and let myself get lost in it. I’m used to focusing on my work and ignoring the world. I did it in New York, I can do it now. In theory this was a good idea, do this instead of bartend, wait for Jake, get paid, but now, it feels like I’m losing my sanity.

I absentmindedly turn the page.

My breath catches.

It’s a picture of a massive man with golden armor. His sword is red, and it’s shoved into Mount Olympus. The man next to him has black armor and isn’t as tall. His sword is dripping with blood, but the weird part is both of them are tied together by a golden thread.

It wraps around each of their wrists.

The caption read. “The battle of Ra and Apep.”

Apep was never defeated, though, so it makes no sense that they’d still be tied together. I frown and stare harder at the picture then turn the page.

Anubis is standing next to Horus, Apollo looks on hanging his head and holding out his hand to Osiris. “The first marriage between the gods, the beginning of peace or the start of war?”

Parts of the pages are so faded in the next chapter that it’s nearly impossible to read.

I shake my head and close the book. There’s a laptop at my workstation. I start looking up ancient sacrificial ruins for the Egyptians and then type in The Book of the Dead. Is this what Jake was truly digging into?

All sorts of spells were “granted” to people who passed into the afterlife, from eternal beauty to grandchildren that would carry on their names. How sad, to die and have one final wish, and believe it. I wonder if it gave them peace or if they doubted in the last moment. Interesting, so interesting.

“That looks miserable,” says a male voice.

I jump a foot.

Enki is leaning over me with an apple dangerously close to the laptop.

“Do you mind?”

He frowns. “I mind a lot of things.” He holds out the apple. “Care for a tiny little bite?”

“What is with you and apples?” I grumble.

“Oh, this?” He grins. “Was actually a coincidence, but funny as hell. Cyrus was in a mood and got mad when I told him I was hungry and offered to bake cookies. So temperamental. Anyway, I grabbed an apple and ran down the stairs then locked him outside. He’s currently stewing by the large ugly tree talking to the squirrel. Oh and Apep stopped by with some food, wanted to see you but Cyrus said ‘no’. There was cursing, I think your brother was mentioned. Anyway, what was I talking about? Oh yes, he’s talking to Rat.”

That was a lot of information, but I go with, “He’s really talking to the squirrel?”

He takes another large bite, juices leak from the apple, he licks the outside of it with his tongue and shoots me a flirty wink. “Rat loves gossip.”

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