“Just like that?”
“Just like that. People plead for help to things that are more powerful. They beg the sky for rain year after year, they make a shrine to a mage who once brought about rain or to an engineer who irrigated their fields decades ago, and if they pray hard enough, their new deity comes to life and grows in power.”
The Jackal gazed at the river. “This new age, it has a saying, ‘History is written by the victors.’ It is true. Look at the story of Apep. Set, who was there with us fighting as valiantly as any one of us, became the visage of darkness. Bastet was diminished to a vermin killer. And I? I became the tender of corpses, revered, worshipped, but hardly as powerful. Even my brother Sobek, the lord of crocodiles, was more feared than I was. I hate him for that and Sobek reviles me for my knowledge and the reverence it brought. When the time of my people came to its sunset, the Greeks came. They jeered at us. They called me the Barker. The joke was on them—I endured through their time and then through the Romans, but I’ve never forgotten the insult.”
He fell silent.
“The Pack,” I prompted.
“Let me tell you how my new myth will go,” the Jackal said. “In the new age of magic, when it was young, a vile serpent emerged, threatening the sanity of all people. Mighty God Inepu and his faceless retainers battled him, and slew him, and triumphed. All those who do not wish to be devoured by the serpent of madness give thanks to the mighty Inepu. Ask for his blessing. Ask for his wisdom. Offer your prayers to him so he may shield you with his might. He is the mighty warrior, the awe-inspiring slayer.”
“That is an ambitious plan.” So I was to be a faceless minion and he was to become a warrior god.
The Jackal looked at me. “Don’t mock me, pup. Godhood is like a drug; once you taste it, there is no turning back.”
“I still don’t understand why you won’t let the Pack assist.”
“Because they are led by a First,” the Jackal said.
“Curran?”
The Jackal nodded. “It is how I began, as a First. What is more impressive, a jackal or a lion? Which would you fear more? To whom would you offer your prayers?”
I blinked. “You’re afraid Curran will steal your godhood?”
“Afraid is a strong word. I fear nothing.” The Jackal laid his head on his front paws and twitched his ear.
“Except being forgotten,” I said.
“There is that.”
“And how does my body fit into your scheme? Wouldn’t you be changing gender?”
“I don’t care,” he said. “A god or a goddess, as long as I grow in power.”
“One small problem,” I told him. “For this plan to work, Apep has to resurrect, and we’ve got his scale.”
“The scale isn’t necessary to his resurrection.”
“What? So we’ve done all of this for nothing?”
The Jackal raised his head. “Of course not. The scale is his armor. Without it, he will be easier to kill. He will be softer.”
“Where? Where are they resurrecting him?”
The Jackal laughed under his breath.
I grabbed his ear and sank my nails into the flesh. “Where are they going to resurrect him? When?”
“I don’t know.” The Jackal whirled and bit me, taking half of my body into his huge mouth from the side. Teeth pierced my stomach and my back. “You’re the detective. Figure it out.”
The world snapped back at me in a rush of blinding pain, and I saw Doolittle’s eyes above a surgical mask. Agony gripped my arm. Raphael snarled, “She’s bleeding!”
“It will be fine,” Doolittle said, his voice calm and steady.
Some female shapeshifter I didn’t know pulled the sheet down from me. A curved row of bloody teeth marks gaped in my stomach.
“I’m good,” I ground out. “Keep going.”
Raphael took my hand in his. I squeezed it and watched the teeth marks knit themselves closed as Doolittle finished sawing through my bone.
Finally Doolittle finished. It didn’t hurt once the bone was cut, or at least it didn’t hurt too much. Roman sat on my bed for a while and told me funny jokes while everyone cleaned up.
Finally they all left. Darkness had fallen—I had asked for the lights to be turned off, and only moonlight remained. It spilled all around me and I felt completely and utterly alone.
I let out a long breath. It sounded more like a sob.
A shadow detached itself from the bathroom doorway and crossed the floor to me. His scent reached me first, that taunting, comforting, infuriating scent. Raphael knelt on my bed, resting one arm on the headboard, and leaned over me until our eyes were level. “Hi.”
“Hi.”
“What’s going on with you?”
“Nothing. What makes you think there is something going on with me?”
His blue eyes scrutinized me. “You came out of sedation with bite marks on your stomach and mud on your feet.”
“Many shapeshifters come out of sedation early.”
He shook his head. “This is Doolittle’s sedation we’re talking about. What’s going on?”
I clenched my teeth to keep the words from getting out.
“Andi, I’m right here. Look at me.” He leaned closer. “Look at me.”
Looking at him was a fatal mistake. The words made a break for it and I couldn’t keep them down any longer. I put my arms, the good one and the one in a cast, around him. My cheek brushed his, his skin against mine, and I kissed him. I kissed him with as much tenderness and love as I could, because one way or another I would lose him.
“He wants my body,” I whispered into Raphael’s ear. “He wants to use it instead of his, because I have better shapeshifter magic.”
His arms tightened around me.
“I have to volunteer.”
“And if you don’t?” he whispered.
“Bad things will happen.” I kissed him again, my arms gripping him. “I’ll fight him. I’ll fight him with everything I have, but if it comes to that, whatever I do once he takes me over, whatever I say, it’s not me.” I whispered, my voice so quiet, I wasn’t sure he heard it. “No matter what happens, I love you. You will always be my mate. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry we ran out of time.”
Raphael squeezed me, pressing me to him. “You listen to me.” His whisper was a fierce promise. “He won’t have you. We will kill him together. Trust me. I won’t let go.”