Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 62637 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 313(@200wpm)___ 251(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62637 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 313(@200wpm)___ 251(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
She waves him off. “Put on a movie.”
“No more Disney!” Mason yells from somewhere in the house. “It makes me sad!”
Alex starts arguing with him about why it should be the Disney special because of Christmas, and chaos ensues.
One by one and two by two, the group starts smiling and laughing.
Tarek tosses a pillow off the sofa at Alex, striking him in the back of his head. When Alex picks up the soft projectile and heaves it back, it catches Kyra in the chest.
Kyra grabs a different pillow and hurls it at Tarek, who quickly steps back. The pillow arcs through the air and lands on the nearly empty bowl of mashed potatoes Hope is carrying into the kitchen. She squeals and dumps what’s left in the bowl over Alex’s head…
As the roughhousing continues, I slip away and walk over to the window. Leaning my head against the cool glass, I gaze up at the stars.
“Please make it, Horus,” I whisper.
A hand clasps my shoulder. “If anyone can, it’s him.”
I glance over at Timber. “You look too normal to be the god of the underworld.”
He barks out a laugh and then shifts into his godlike form, making me so freaked out I nearly pass out on the spot. His head is a black jackal with eyes fiercely yellow, fangs huge.
“I take it back,” I finally say.
“Most do.” In a blink, he’s back to his normal self, and he winks. “Now, let’s trust my brother and go drive Alex crazy with more Disney. His least favorite is Up because he cries. I may have already pressed play.”
I smile. “You guys are weird.”
“Nah, we’re just family.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
極悪非道
gokuaku hidou
“Villainy” or “diabolical”
~Japanese proverb
Horus
I stare into the darkness. Wave after wave of sheer blackness rolls over.
“You dare cross the borders, god!” The voice sounds like it’s in eternal pain; a moan and choking follow.
I close my eyes, and then I pull off my black T-shirt and rip pieces from it, wrapping them tightly around my eyes, accepting the darkness.
I toss the remains of my shirt to the ground, standing in front of the first of the unnamed. “I need safe passage to the Abyss. I have someone to speak to.”
“Stupid god.” The voice chuckles. I feel his icy presence everywhere as the wind picks up. “If we can’t leave, what makes you think you can?”
“Well…” I cross my arms. “I never did anything wrong. I never fell. So if you’d like to continue this conversation where I tell you why you’re down here guarding as one of the four kings until the apocalypse comes, be my guest. I love telling stories, and you already know how yours ends…”
“STOP SPEAKING!” he thunders.
“Oh, I thought you wanted me to defend myself. Or my purpose. Which is it, puny angel?”
He laughs. “Puny? Would you, as a god, put only puny angels under chains for thousands of years? We are not puny. We are just as godlike as you.”
“And yet nobody worships you. Nor knows your name. Here’s a riddle, do you even know who you are?”
He goes quiet.
I take another step toward the window, feeling the mud with my hands as I drop to my knees. “I would never enter the Abyss unless I could give the first guard a gift. Do you want to know your name?”
“LIES!” he shouts, and the earth shakes with his horror, his terror, and I realize it isn’t just random terror. It’s his own fear bleeding out with every breath. He can’t help it because, in the Abyss, that is all you are.
Fear.
You aren’t exempt if you’re powerful. Fear will always exist. He places his palms on the ground. “You don’t know it! Nobody knows it! I am unknown!”
“I’ll carry it for you, the sadness on your shoulders, of not knowing who you are, of being sad over the fact that your star fell long ago and when it fell, the heavens turned on you, they went dark, so you’ve lived in nothing but darkness, and when you live that long in darkness you forget who you are, you forget your light.” I open my hands wide, palm up toward the muddy window I must enter. “Your name…”
He’s finally still. “It is lost, god.”
“It was never lost, and neither are you,” I whisper and hold my hands toward the skies. I call on his stars, I call on the heavens. I use my eyes for the last time to gain entry. I pull down the veil of stars. I use them, and I see nothing but glory.
This angel.
This angel.
His despair.
His fall.
Was for his family.
It wasn’t selfish.
He will be reborn. He will be set free.
“You are very good, Ashtaroth.”
The ground moves beneath my knees, and the mountains moan.
“What did you call me?”
“Ashtaroth,” I repeat it. “Ashtaroth is what you were called. It is your name, your identity. You’ve done things that should not have come to pass, but in the end, you’ve also served well the heavens. And we know the Creator forgives. Let it fall away like the mud. Let it die one last time.”