Issuu

The Underworld

The black river coils into shallow deltas, glistening like snake scales, around a complex of sandstone buildings. Pillars, painted in bright colors, line a walkway studded with palm trees. The fronds glisten strangely, as if the call of rot and decay does not apply to them. The cheery green feels like an ill omen as the god walks down the grand entrance to the largest building.

Spirits, shapeless and nearly without color, line the way. Silent. Watching. The god’s skin prickles as he passes them and enters the yawning doors of Osiris’ Hall. Braziers line the hall of the Egyptian god of the Underworld, illuminating portions of murals depicting ancient Egypt in fragments.

Crocodiles lurking in the reeds, their eyes hungry.

Peasants laboring in the fields, their backs bent by weight and work.

And the gods, their eyes blank as they watch from above, smiles turning their faces into something cruel.

This hall and the images on its walls are familiar to the god. It was home, once. Long ago. But he is different now. A deity with a taste of mortality on his lips.

Fat birds with golden bodies flutter in the shadowy eaves. The hall is eerily quiet. Only the shuffle of feet sounds as a line of waiting spirits moves forward, one by one, to be judged. The god approaches the bright braziers burning at the end of the hall. A set of golden doors blocks the way.

Two shadows move in the corners of the vast room near the doors. Massive, powerful bodies of men with the heads of jackals. Cynomorpha, the tomb guardians of the Underworld. Their dark red eyes narrow in his direction. Firelight gleams off their bare human chests, contrasting with the sharp white animalistic teeth lining their pointed snouts.

‘Welcome back, Lord Anubis,’ one murmurs in a rumbling voice. Both step aside to let him pass. ‘Osiris is currently overseeing the judgment of a spirit, but he will hear your concerns,’

Anubis steps through the doors. Incense burns somewhere in the shadows, the curls of smoke drifting to his nose. The hall is wide, and lining both sides are rows of seats. A judge occupies each, in traditional dress, their expression blank. They watch the front of the hall, where a throne sits on a dais. It is hewn from sandstone and decorated with carvings of lilies, reeds, funeral barges and scales.

‘Lord Anubis,’ says a voice from the front of the hall, as smooth as silk. ‘It has been centuries since you set foot in my domain.’

As he speaks, the ghostly outline of the man on the throne becomes clear. Green skin, his body wrapped in linen, as if he has been only partly mummified. Black, glittering eyes that see through the visitor.

‘I seek a favor,’ Anubis says, inclining his head respectfully and allowing his true godly form to flicker over his features in acknowledgment of Osiris’ power.

‘You are delaying my judgments,’ Osiris says from his throne.

Anubis meets the other god’s eyes. ‘I have noticed a change in the Underworld. A sickness.’

Shadows from the fires shift over Osiris’ green skin. He straightens, face a mask. ‘You disturb my peace and shirk

the duties of a death guide, and now you dare ask me for information?’

Anubis struggles to control his emotions. ‘I have been exploring the Underworld since my return from the mortal world. The oldest portions have been reappearing, but the gods that once ruled them are gone.’

Osiris shifts, his dark brows pulled low. ‘Our land changes as often as the winds. Humans are fickle creatures with changing allegiances.’

‘These are gods that have slept for eons. I searched their lands, but they are quiet. No magic or power rests in their soil. These gods are simply gone.’

Osiris watches Anubis, something unreadable flickering over his features. Finally, he sighs, adjusting the linen robes around his body. ‘I hear rumors from spirits new and old to the Underworld. They speak of a resurgence of a society as old as humans themselves. One that seeks our power, not just that of demons, for their rituals. Perhaps they have been feeding on these missing gods.’

Anubis’ shoulders stiffen. ‘Who are they? What do they want with the gods?’

‘The spirits that know of such things are frightened. They whisper of an Order that wishes to take the gods’ magic, the very essence of what they are and represent.’ Osiris shifts on his throne, clearly uneasy. ‘But these are rumors. I have not seen it for myself.’

‘I also seek Hecate in my travels. I need her help to heal a mortal above,’ Anubis says, his chest fluttering like a human heart. ‘Do you know where she is? If she is sleeping, as I once did?’

Osiris’ black eyes glint. ‘I know why you seek the goddess. For that mortal girl and her sister – the one who caused so much trouble in the land of the dead.’

‘Please,’ Anubis says, though the very act of begging makes his skin crawl. He thinks of Andromeda, her sparkling blue eyes and the sweetness of her lips on his, instead.

The other god sighs. ‘Hecate has not been heard of in many centuries. She is sleeping, that is for certain. Some say she is hiding. Protecting herself.’

A breath catches in Anubis’ throat. ‘Why would a goddess as powerful as her hide? Why sleep when she does not need to conserve energy?’

‘Hecate has forced her slumber. So what makes you think the goddess of magic wants to be found?’ Osiris asks.

Anubis ignores the impatient line of spirits in the hall, awaiting their judgment. He is uncertain of what they see when they observe Osiris on his throne. Perhaps St Peter at the gates of Heaven, waiting to judge their good deeds.

‘If what you speak of this Order is true, could Hecate be slumbering to hide from them?’

Osiris shifts again, his features hardening. ‘I fear what they want from us. From her. I am certain they seek Hecate. She would be the grandest prize of all the gods. The power she confers is unlike anything we have held since ancient times.’

‘What can this Order do that you fear?’ Anubis asks, a chill settling over the judgment hall.

Osiris opens his mouth to speak further, but as he does, a gust of wind rushes through the hall. The flames flare brighter in their braziers, and the golden doors open wide, slamming against the walls. The judges seem to hunch into their seats as the light shifts.

No. They are fading.

Anubis breathes in sharply, his eyes wide. He moves forward, reaching to take Osiris’ hand. But he wears an expression of horror. Of pain. The roof of the palace

groans. Spirits wail in the hall, shifting and roiling like a mass of storm clouds.

And then the fires dim, sputtering as all the air is pulled from the hall. Osiris crumples on his throne, his green skin turning to ash and his linen wrappings falling to the ground. Empty.

Darkness cloaks the hall, heavy and oppressive. The spirits are gone, as are the judges. Anubis’ hand is still outstretched toward the throne, his eyes frozen on the empty spot where the god he once ruled alongside has disappeared.

A silver rectangle rests in the pile of linen. He squints at the carvings, fingertips tingling. The outline of a wolf stands above two human infants. They feed from her swollen teats as her bared teeth seem to threaten and console them all at once.

‘It can’t be,’ Anubis whispers, his eyes wide. ‘It’s a katadesmos.’

A curse tablet. One side bears the symbol of Lupa and the children. The other is etched with Osiris’ name in hieroglyphics. Anubis curls his fist around the silver rectangle. The tablet means one thing. Someone sought out Osiris and his powers. Carved his name in the metal and buried it in the earth with a curse.

Anubis knows what the Order is doing with the gods. What it hopes to do with Hecate, the goddess who slumbers and hides from the very thing Osiris fears. The god turns from the ruins of the once grand judgment hall. He must call on his familiar, Wepwawet, the jackal, and send him to the mortal world with a message for Andromeda.

Osiris is dead, and soon Hecate will be too.

October

Magic has a peculiar feeling. A weight to it. Like a breath of air shifting pressure, opening a door that was once sealed. It glides along my skin as I stand in the hallway outside Violet’s room. My pulse beats against my throat as I hold my breath. Waiting. Listening.

The darkened crack in the door stares back at me. I can only make out the vague shape of Violet sitting up in bed, her side table cluttered with countless pill bottles to combat the nausea and pain from her leukemia treatments. The outline of her skull stands out against the faint moonlight from the window as she dips her head over a large book cradled in her bony, bruised hands. Despite the darkness, I feel what she’s doing; the spell she casts calls to the magic in my blood.

I silence it, like a sailor turning away from a siren’s song.

I grab the handle before the burning in my throat gets any worse. Violet’s pale arm flashes in the moonlight as she shoves a dark object under her pillow and quickly lies down. Something in my chest aches as she pastes a wan smile to her face and pretends to adjust her blanket.

‘Hey, Vee.’ I gently shut the door behind me and cross to her bedside. ‘Your hospice nurse left some notes on the credenza. Looks like you’re doing a little better this week.’

‘Mom said you’d be babysitting me tonight while she visits Grandma and Grandpa,’ she says with a huff, passing a palm over the short black hair growing back on her head.

Her chemo rounds are done for now. She’s on a cocktail of radiation and experimental treatments in the meantime, while the doctors wait to see how her frail body responds.

I drag a well worn armchair closer to her bed and sit down. ‘I know you’d prefer Dad, but I fought him off. He can’t miss his own mother’s birthday, after all.’

She makes a face. ‘It’s because he’s the only one who doesn’t insist on watching over me at all hours of the day.’

‘Mom is just worried about you,’ I say gently, though the bite in her words is like a punch to the stomach.

‘I’m at home. Does Mom think I’ll smoke between the time the next nurse comes for her night shift?’

I smile, but even though her teasing words remind me of how we used to be, my expression falters a second later. Violet must sense that she’s been caught using magic, because she chatters animatedly about the newest gossip she learned in her latest hospital visit. Her eyes dart around the room and her fingers pluck at a thread in the sheets. I let her keep going.

‘Dr Kerry, my oncologist, mentioned something about his wife the other day, but I heard from the new intern that he’s been divorced for three months and is refusing to accept it, and –’ she cuts herself off, finally taking a breath. ‘What is it, little star? Why are you looking at me like that?’

‘You promised you’d stop.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, Andy.’

My eyes drop to her pillow and she stiffens, arms crossed over her chest like a shield. Before she can even blink, I snake my fingers beneath the pillow and yank a small leatherbound book out into the moonlight. Her sharp intake of breath feels like a blow to my chest.

‘Don’t lie to me, Vee.’ My voice is brittle. Tired. ‘Not anymore.’

‘It’s nothing. Just research.’

‘Research?’

Violet huffs, her lips twisted to the side. ‘Yes, research. And don’t look at me like that, Andy. Like I’m some freak.’ She reaches out, pale fingers grasping the edge of the leather cover. The tape holding her IV in place catches, and she grimaces, a curse muttered under her breath.

I let her snatch the book back, but not before peeking at the peeling gold foil of the fading title on the spine. The Book of the Dead. And below it, what I assume to be the Egyptian name is in equally tarnished hieroglyphics.

‘We’ve talked about this for months.’ I lean back in the chair, tired to my very bones. ‘The more magic you use, the sicker you get. Your body can’t handle it, not after what happened on Duskmoor Island.’

Violet’s jaw works and she stares straight ahead. The reminder of her actions last year, the way she tried to bind herself to a demon to keep cancer from ravaging her body, always fires her temper and makes her conscience prickle. ‘Magic is the only thing that can save me. You’d know this too, if you bothered to help me find a spell that could work.’

I bite back a snort. Ever since she returned from the Underworld, her body has grown weaker. Frailer. Each time she uses her magic she fades a little more. Magic isn’t saving my sister, it’s killing her. There’s only one thing that can save her. One person. And Hecate is hidden somewhere in the depths of the Underworld.

I shut my eyes for a few breaths. Behind my lids flashes of the demon Ossivorus come into focus. The slit throats of bodies floating lifeless in a cove. I see Richard Greene –the man who founded Tooth and Talon, the secret society that Violet joined at her old school, Ravenswood

Academy – casting spells to appease Ossivorus. I open my eyes before I can see more.

‘I will not use magic.’ I ball my fists on my knees. ‘Ever.’

Violet’s eyes soften. She looks nothing like the girl I once knew. Beautiful black hair, bright eyes, and a smile as sharp as a knife. All nothing but a memory now.

She takes a deep breath, the air rattling in her chest. ‘I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be so . . . angry. But this is something you’ll never understand. Magic is part of me, like breathing. And without it, I feel like I’m slipping further and further away. You and Anubis have found nothing in six months –’

‘He found the new portion of the Underworld last fall,’ I protest, the memory of Anubis, the god who pretended to be a mortal boy as he investigated Tooth and Talon, sharp as it slices my heart. ‘Anubis has seen markings of Hecate’s name on temple ruins. He’s sure if he follows them, we can find her.’

I’d fallen in love with a boy I thought was Jae Han as I searched for Violet at Ravenswood last year. But Anubis had made a vow to the real Jae Han over a decade earlier, promising to wipe out every trace of the secret society that killed his aunt. After everything that happened on Duskmoor Island with the demon Ossivorus, Anubis returned to the Underworld, losing his mortal body as he protected me against Tooth and Talon’s magic. He belongs to the Underworld once more. A place I can never be a part of. Not until I’m dead.

He found me at the hospital a few months after Violet returned to the mortal world, with news about a strange new section of the Underworld. He was so hopeful when he found evidence of Hecate, the goddess who blessed Violet’s and my lineage with magic. I recall how his dark eyes sparked with purpose as he speculated that Hecate would be the key

to saving my sister from her sickness, using the very magic that grants us her power as a cure. But Violet’s disappointed expression belies those memories. All I see is betrayal.

A mirthless laugh slips from her chapped lips. ‘But he’s found no evidence of her since then. It’s like she’s disappeared.’

‘She could be sleeping,’ I protest, even though this is the same worry I’ve pushed aside as Anubis has been searching the Underworld. ‘She’s out there, Vee, somewhere. And once we find her, she can cure you.’

‘How are we going to find her? It’s not like you can go down to the Underworld and search with Anubis, without risking demons smelling your magic. And I can’t use magic or have it used on me without getting even sicker. Anubis can’t come here, and you can’t go there. So, we’re both stuck here. And all you do is watch me fade away, and help Mom and Dad with bills. We’re no closer to anything except my grave.’

That sharp pain in my chest lances deeper.

‘Vee,’ I protest weakly, a bitter taste coating my tongue as I try to hide my fear, ‘don’t say that. You aren’t going to die. And I’m not asking you to stop looking for answers. I’m only saying you need to stop practicing magic. At least until Anubis and I find Hecate and a cure.’

‘I am dying , Andy. And if you can’t save me, then I’m going to do it myself.’ She grips the ancient spell book in her hands, a dark expression stealing over her face. ‘Magic is the only thing I have left.’

The skitter of nails across the floor jars me awake. A click, click, click that grows closer, louder. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and I breathe in deeply, checking for a hint of sulfur or rot. Signs of a demon coming to call.

Slowly, I edge my feet off Violet’s bed and straighten. The moon has sunk, and the only light comes from blinking monitors and the gap in the blinds over the window.

A dark shape slinks along the far wall in the hall, mixing with the deepest shadows. Holding my breath, I glance over to make sure Violet is still asleep before I stand. The chair creaks as my weight shifts. Dust and dirt from ancient graves perfume the air. Slowly, I push the bedroom door completely open and peer into the hallway.

White teeth are bared at me from the far end, sharp and hungry. And then the shape moves, growing larger as it approaches. Pointed ears and dark fur, hackles rising as the creature slinks forward, its golden eyes gleaming in the dark like only a predator’s can.

‘Hello, Wepwawet,’ I murmur to the huge jackal, the messenger of Anubis, as he emerges from the shadows.

Behind him, a shimmering narrow tunnel leads back to the Underworld. The beast lowers his head in greeting, intelligent eyes knowing and ancient. Excitement swirls in my stomach, as does hope. Anubis only sends Wepwawet with news of his search for Hecate. I step closer to the animal as the swirl of smoke spirals in the corner, and the smells of decay grow stronger.

A creak echoes from the stairs, and I stagger back from the shimmering tunnel. ‘Mom!’

She stops at the top step, dark circles under her eyes, and her brow furrowed. ‘I saw the lamp on when we pulled into the driveway. Did I scare you?’

My heart thuds in my chest and I glance over my shoulder. Wepwawet and the unearthly tunnel are gone. I lean against the wall, my hand on my sternum.

‘Is everything alright?’ Mom asks. ‘Have the nurses said anything?’

‘Nothing new,’ I reassure her. ‘That’s good, right? At least she isn’t any worse.’

‘Right.’ Mom sighs and rubs her temple, tries to smile but fails. ‘Oh, before I forget. I got a letter from your school counselor. She suggested you send applications to a couple of different local colleges, and some state ones too.’

I blink at her, uncomprehending, for a few moments. And then I laugh, because it seems so ludicrous to talk about college when a god of death has just sent his monstrous jackal familiar with a message from the Underworld.

‘I’m not really worried about that right now. Did Violet say something?’

‘You need to think about the future, Andy.’ Mom toys with her hair, a faraway expression in her eyes as she looks toward my sister’s open door. ‘Online school was great, but you’ve already fulfilled all your requirements. Dad and I can handle watching over Violet –’

I hold up my hand. ‘Wait. Are you seriously trying to ship me off to a college. Why do you think I did the accelerated diploma? I want to stay with you, help Violet get better, before I even consider the future.’

‘Honey, you know what the doctors are saying. You see how she looks.’

My throat is tight as I stare at Mom, at the tension in her expression. The defeat.

‘Violet isn’t going to die.’

‘I didn’t say she was. But there’s nothing you can do for her.’

My mouth slackens and I rub my brow. ‘I’m not going to abandon Violet and run off to college. That was her dream, Mom. I can’t take that from her.’

She ascends the final step, moving like she wants to come and touch my hair, soothe me like she did when I missed

Violet when she was away at Ravenswood. But I stiffen and cross my arms, and she stops.

‘Don’t you think Violet wants to see you happy? To be successful? Just because it’s something she always wanted for herself doesn’t mean you can’t have the same dream.’

I clench my jaw and look down. I blink rapidly, willing myself not to cry. Not to imagine Violet’s face, hollow and pale, as I take everything she’s ever wanted. Magic. College. Life.

‘Can we talk about this later?’ My voice wobbles.

Mom purses her lips but nods. ‘Dad is going to check in with the hospice center tomorrow about bills, and I’ll be taking another shift at work. Do you think you can handle Violet and dinner?’

Wordlessly, I nod.

She turns to her and Dad’s bedroom, fingers wrapping around the doorknob. Before she can shut the door, she pauses, a flash of her sad, tired eyes peeking through her curls.

‘Andy.’

I look back to where Mom stands, already half inside the door. A lamp down the hall illuminates only a tiny sliver of her face just as I sense Wepwawet slinking in the deepest shadows, waiting for me.

‘Don’t forget that your life matters too.’

Then she disappears into her room, and I’m left with a sour taste in my mouth as the doorway to the Underworld reappears. Wepwawet winds around my legs, dropping a vial onto the floor. Red and a bruising shade of purple swirl together within. A tincture made from the asphodel flowers of the Underworld. A way for Anubis to communicate with me between planes, for brief moments, as I’m suspended between life and death.

The jackal’s impossibly black fur brushes my hand as he turns back to the corner of the hall where the dark, narrow mouth of an earthen tunnel awaits. I watch as he slips back inside. The scent of the land of the dead leaves with him, and I bend down to clutch the vial hard in my fist as memories associated with that scent flicker through my mind. Anubis and his lips as he murmured how he loved me. The pain of being pulled apart from him when I returned to the mortal world.

I glance over my shoulder through the crack in the door to Violet, pale and small. Anubis must have news about Hecate. A clue to help us find her, and have the goddess cure my sister. I haven’t given up hope yet.

And if Wepwawet is here, neither has Anubis.

I slip into my room and lie down on my bed, preparing for the sensation of my heartbeat slowing to almost nothing so that my spirit can commune with a god of death. Squeezing my eyes shut, I tip the vial of bitter liquid into my mouth and swallow. A sensation of floating steals over my body as my blood stops in my veins and a slow breath slips from my lungs.

Darkness gathers around me until a ghostly image of the Underworld appears before my eyes. Black and white outlines of hills and trees and gray, brittle grass. An oily black river that cuts through the land and separates the east and west banks.

Smoke, bursting across my eyes like ink, outlines everything as the land of the dead comes into focus. I’m neither dead nor completely alive. A shade of myself, briefly touching the other side of the veil. And as I turn, a prickling sensation runs along my ghostly skin, and I see a familiar set of deep brown eyes set against golden skin.

‘Hello, Andromeda,’ Anubis murmurs, his tall form

cutting across the clearing until he stands directly in front of me, appearing as he did at Ravenswood, wearing the face of Jae Han.

Even though there isn’t any blood in this form, heat steals across my skin. I want to reach out and touch his smooth cheek. Feel his lips against mine. But I know it’s impossible. His fingers would pass right through me.

‘You sent Wepwawet with a message,’ I respond, my voice tight as I stare into his eyes. ‘Is something wrong? Have you found Hecate yet?’

His expression darkens as he looks out over the endless tombdotted landscape of the Underworld. ‘It’s the gods,’ he finally says, his throat working as he meets my gaze again. ‘They’re dying.’

The scent of ash and ancient things perfumes the night. The gray hills of the Underworld stretch endlessly, interrupted only by the velvety darkness of the rivers cleaving apart the landscape. I stare at Anubis, wishing I could do more than simply float before him in a disembodied state.

‘Gods can’t die,’ I finally say.

Anubis’ jaw works as he moves closer to me, his fists clenching and unclenching like he wants to reach out and touch my wild curls, even though he can’t. ‘Back in February, the new section of the Underworld opened up, bearing markers of Hecate’s power.’

‘And you and I tried to follow it,’ I agree, still reeling from his words. ‘But there were too many demons who could smell Hecate’s powers in my blood, and we decided it would be better if you searched alone.’

‘You know I’ve found nothing but inscriptions of her name on deteriorated temples. Paths to other forgotten sections of the land. But no Hecate. And strangely, no other gods. They should be in their territories. They’re ancient and established. No god gives up the treasured patch of their former power.’

His expression is so grave that I wish I could feel my pulse. The floating sensation makes everything feel offkilter, and as a bonedeep dread settles in my stomach, fear makes the landscape shift around me.

‘Is Hecate dead?’

Anubis looks away. ‘I don’t think so. But all these territories

were empty of gods. Only demons and monsters from long ago roam them. At first, I thought these gods could be sleeping, like I was before Jae found me.’

‘What makes you think they aren’t?’ I ask, my voice tight. Anubis reaches into his pocket, fist closing tight around something as his golden skin turns pale. ‘Because I went to visit Osiris. He is one of the few that could know what is happening to the Underworld. He is the oldest death god. All the others have faded in sleep, rendered weak without any worshippers. But Osiris’ purpose is to oversee the judgment of the dead. If a soul believes in some sort of judgment before eternal rest, they must cross through his gates before reaching the west bank. He is like Hecate –adapting to every culture and religion. Osiris hears of every new soul, every lost creature in the entire realm, because of his role. He senses these shifts in the land, sections opening, like the ones you and I have searched.’

‘Does he know where Hecate is?’

‘That’s partly why I went to visit him.’ Anubis swallows and focuses on a spot behind my shoulder. ‘I asked what he knew of the missing gods. After all, I should sense them if they were sleeping. Their territory would become sealed off from the rest of the Underworld, the tunnels that connect them to the rest of the realm blocked, as no spirits need to follow them.’

‘How did Jae find you, then?’ I ask softly.

At first, I worry Anubis won’t answer. He lived as Jae for years, seeking vengeance for the death of his aunt, MinJun. And he gave up a chance to experience mortality, and all its pleasures and pain, for me. To protect me from Tooth and Talon as they summoned Ossivorus, on Duskmoor Island, last year.

When he speaks, his voice sounds far away. ‘Jae knew that

wandering the Underworld as a human was dangerous, that he would have to find a way to straddle the line between life and death – much like Violet did when she hid herself away in the Underworld to slow the progression of her disease. Jae needed a death guide, not just any god, to ferry his soul safely to Min Jun’s side on the west bank. I always exist somewhere between life and death. I’m not bound to the Underworld the same way as other gods. Sometimes I can reach the mortal realm, during equinoxes or at other liminal times. His belief was strong enough to lead him to my territory. But these other sections I’ve been searching are not blocked off, they’re open and bare. There are no gods sleeping there, conserving energy, defending their old lands, and waiting for a shred of human belief.’

I exhale slowly. ‘The gods are older than anything. How could they die? What did Osiris say?’

‘He has also sensed the empty sections of the Underworld. The missing gods. He said that Hecate was alive, but hiding somewhere deep in her territory.’

A shiver trails across my skin, icy as the breath of a ghost. ‘Hiding? Hiding from what?’

‘Something dangerous enough to kill a god.’ Anubis finally uncurls his fist.

Sitting in his palm is a rectangle of hammered silver. The face bears an inscription in a strange language of slashing marks below hieroglyphics. Somehow, I know it says Osiris. He flips the tablet over and the stark imprint of a wolf with curled lips, suckling two human babies, glares up at me from the carved surface.

‘He said that there is a resurgence of dark, ancient magic in the world above,’ Anubis says. ‘A group, a society, that does not call on demons to power their spells, but the blood of gods. That they have ancient knowledge from the

oldest magic rituals, from a time when gods and man lived together, side by side.’

‘And Hecate is so afraid of them that she hides herself away? She’s a goddess of death. She’s still worshipped today. What does she have to be afraid of?’

Anubis’ face is hard. ‘That’s all he said before he died. His body disintegrated into dust, leaving only this behind.’

A rush of cold fear washes over me as my ghostly form trembles. I want to gasp, but I can’t even breathe in my current state. I feel trapped, like a mummy in its wrappings, as Anubis continues to hold out the gleaming rectangle of silver.

‘What is it?’ I whisper, nodding to his hand.

‘A katadesmos. A curse tablet.’

The light catches on the deep grooves of the tablet, and my skin tingles as he continues to flip the silver rectangle over and over again, his eyes tracing the pattern like he’s reading from a book. Finally, he breathes out slowly.

‘One of Jae’s memories keeps bothering me,’ he begins, eyes glassy and far away. ‘He told me how he found MinJun, his aunt, dead. Killed by a society in their school in Edinburgh. He remembered how dark it was. How the only lights still on just before dawn were the neon signs of the pub where she’d been drinking with her friends. He’d gone looking for her when she hadn’t come back to the common room. And when they rolled her onto her back, after pulling her from the river, he was frozen beside her. He touched her hand. It was so cold. Her eyes were open. Like she was speaking, begging him to help her. And when Jae held her hand tighter, he felt something jab into his palm.’

He extends his hand out to me, and he looks so strange in the gray light, with an undead forest behind him. My lungs constrict as the curse tablet glints dully between us, like the flash of a dagger.

‘MinJun had a tablet just like this in her fist, Andromeda. I thought I’d followed every society member, everyone who was responsible for her death. That I’d followed the last thread, leading me to Richard Greene and Ravenswood Academy.’

If I weren’t suspended between life and death, my breath would have stopped. ‘You mean the people who killed MinJun are still out there?’

He blinks a few times, his gaze coming back into focus. ‘When I possessed Jae’s body and vowed to seek revenge on his behalf, it took me to many schools. Many societies. Thirteen years ago, I tracked down those who killed MinJun, and those who trained them in magic. It took me to Ravenswood, to Tooth and Talon, and to your sister. Do you know where Richard Greene studied the occult before he founded Ravenswood Academy?’

I think back to last year, and vaguely remember time spent with Jae in the library of Ravenswood, studying its history and clues to its founding. But I was so worried about Violet, how everything seemed connected to her, that the rest is like a distant dream. ‘Scotland.’

‘The society Osiris mentioned could have trained Richard Greene.’ Anubis glares at the markings of the wolf. ‘The same place, and the same tablet, with the same symbol. It can’t be a coincidence.’

I study the tablet, the symbol etched deep. ‘Romulus and Remus being fed by Lupa.’ A prickle runs along my skin, telling me the magic from the potion that allows me to speak with Anubis is wearing thin. ‘I remember the story. They were abandoned as babies and the shewolf goddess fed them and kept them safe in her cave. They grew up and founded Rome. But why use this symbol?’

‘I don’t know. And Osiris died before I could get any more

information.’ Anubis curls his other fist, like the memory pains him. ‘This society’s symbol represents the founding of the most ancient and powerful empire the world has seen. But there is something else. Curse tablets are buried in the earth so that chthonic deities can carry out the curse. Liminal beings. Like me. Like Hecate.’

Another prickle over my ghostly skin tells me the spell is preparing to take me back to the mortal realm. ‘Are they trying to find Hecate using these tablets?’

Anubis’ face darkens. ‘Osiris said she was hiding. Hiding from beings with the knowledge to kill what can’t be killed. She must be one of the gods they want. I thought the tablet Jae found on MinJun in Edinburgh was just a way to make an offering to the demon tied to the sect at their school.’ His lips flatten, and his eyes are stormy. ‘But seeing it again, I must have missed something when I hunted those tied to her death. The same symbol, the same tablet, appearing after Osiris died, it can’t be a coincidence. Something dark is emerging in Scotland. And if what Osiris says is true, and they want the magic of the gods, none of us, including Hecate, are safe.’

‘Another society.’ My voice is hollow. ‘Whoever put that tablet in MinJun’s hand is still out there, and now they’re killing gods for their power.’

A sick feeling roots in my gut, and it takes everything I have to fight the spell pulling me away from Anubis. The tattoo on my upper thigh burns hot, like the ink is coming alive and eating away at muscle. At bone. The bitter taste of the tincture I swallowed coats my tongue, and the world feels further away. Smoke and shadow.

I blink, and the image of Lupa comes to life behind my eyelids. A goddess in the form of a wolf, rearing the future of a great empire in her cave.

‘Yes’, he agrees as the Underworld becomes fuzzy, slipping away from me. ‘MinJun’s death, and the society Jae blamed for it, must have been a cover for something darker –a group with ties to ancient rites that has now begun to kill gods.’

‘Who are they?’ I ask, my tongue feeling heavy, my speech slurred. I reach out, desperate to hang on to him for a moment longer even as the spell wears so thin I can barely see him. ‘What do they want with the magic of the gods?’

‘I’ll send you a message, Andy.’ Anubis’ voice sounds far away, like my head is under water. He reaches out for me too, and for a moment, as our fingers pass through one another, I think I can feel the heat of his skin and the smoothness of his palm. ‘Wait for me at midnight on the harvest moon.’

The scent of loam grows faint, replaced by crisp air, damp pine, and a fresh breeze carried over a lake, stealing in through the open window of my bedroom. But as Anubis’ form fades and my body slowly grows solid again, all I can taste is blood.

I toss and turn for the rest of the night, my thoughts a muddied swirl of dead gods and Hecate hiding somewhere in the Underworld. When the light outside my window turns gray with the coming dawn, I finally sit up, giving up on any attempts at sleep.

But as I blink, adjusting my glasses on my nose, the light shifts, growing deeper. I swing my legs out of bed and pause as my toes touch dry, brittle grass.

A field, dotted with asphodel flowers that brush against my legs. Burial mounds and mausoleums mark the ground in the distance. I’m in the Underworld. I look down at my hands, searching for the shimmery gray outline of the spell from Anubis’ vial. My skin is pale and dotted with freckles, but normal.

An uneasiness works through my veins as I turn in a slow circle at the top of a dusty hill. Ash plumes at my feet. A damp wind rustles in the faraway poplar trees. And my bedroom disappears like a mirage. I twist my head, searching the shadows for signs of Anubis or Wepwawet.

I’m alone.

The silence feels more sinister than before. It bears down on my shoulders, and I shudder. Could my magic have lashed out in my fitful sleep, dragging me down to the land of the dead? Or, for the first time in six months, has a demon finally come to call?

Slowly, the ground beneath my feet changes. Gathers together. The earth sways as a path unwinds like a coil of

rope, extending through the hills and stark white flowers. My breath catches as a tingle erupts across my skin. Mist slips over the dark path, winding around humps of earth and blocks of stone that decorate the sides. Gravestones, I note absently. The path cuts through a seemingly endless cemetery.

The sound of my heartbeat grows louder and, inexplicably, I step closer. The magic in my blood that I always try to ignore flares into life. I shudder as the sensation grows stronger, tugs me forward, until I set one foot on the obsidiancolored road.

A statue marks the path, taller than I am. Carved of pure black rock and polished to an incredible shine, three faces stare back at me. A woman in triplicate. Each holds out an arm, gripping a unique object. A torch, a knife, and a key. Like road markers pointing in different directions.

Frost creeps across the stones and crawls up my legs. I pause, but the desire for logic wars with the bonedeep ache, the burning need to follow the path, until finally I can’t resist any longer. My feet glide over the smooth black stones. Mist curls around my ankles. And something within me shifts as I pass the triplefaced statue, her many eyes flaring a bright, acidic green, matching the flames on the torch.

I’m pulled further down the path by something I can’t name.

Time slips by. My thoughts grow fuzzier. There is only the road, and what waits for me at the end. The statue has long since disappeared. I’m alone on an endless lane running into eternity.

Slowly, thick acidgreen fog swirls around my legs and washes over the stones. It rises higher, until it envelops me completely. My spine tingles, as if something is watching from within the mist. I stop and listen for the sound of breath or footsteps.

A lupine howl pierces the air, so loud and teethrattling that I cry out and slap my palms over my ears. Another howl echoes, followed immediately by a third. Snarling, snapping jaws reverberate from within the thickening mass of fog. The path buckles and shifts and throws me to the side onto dry, dead grass. Something hard pokes at my side. I roll to my knees and smother a scream. A grinning skull, eye sockets and teeth clogged with grave dirt, grins at me. More halfburied bones litter the ground.

The mist flees, and I can see the road curling in dozens of directions. More statues with their glowing green torches and eyes litter the way like breadcrumbs. But one by one, they crumble to ash along with the threading walkway, and I feel a stiff wind that smells of the cloying sweetness of rotting flowers.

‘Find me,’ the statues plead as they crumble. I push myself to my feet, searching for the path. I scramble onto the dark stones just as heavy paws pad along the slowly disintegrating pathway. A dog? I stand there numbly, my mind unable to comprehend what my eyes are seeing. Because the enormous dog, bigger than a bear, growling and snapping as it comes into view, has three heads.

The three headed dog turns all six eyes to me. Blood drips from its teeth. The obsidian pavers behind it continue to disintegrate into ash. I fall back a step. The grinning skulls, the endless graveyard, it’s a warning. I know I have to run before the path disappears completely, and I am trapped here.

Finally, my feet move, and I turn and run back the way I came. The dog howls again, its breath hot on my back. But I don’t turn around. I fly down the road, even as it disappears beneath me, until the glowing green torch and the empty field I first encountered come into focus.

The three faces of the statue seem to contort as I get closer, as if encouraging me. Warning me. With a gasp, I lurch past the carved pillar and stumble onto the familiar ashen grass of the Underworld I know. A howl makes the hairs on my neck stand on end as I whirl around. The massive threeheaded dog stops next to the statue, pacing, as if stuck behind an invisible barrier. Slowly, the middle head lowers and drops something onto the ground only a few inches from my bare feet.

Silver gleams from the grass. A rectangular tablet marked with the image of Lupa and the twins, Romulus and Remus. My stomach turns as I reach down with shaking hands and pick up the curse tablet. Slowly, I flip it over to read the name. But all I read are two simple words:

Find me.

And then the sicklysweet wind turns the statue and the beastly dog into dust.

I wake with a gasp, cold sweat drenching me. Shivering, I reach blindly for my nightstand, fingers scrambling over my glasses. I push them up my nose, heart thundering as I search my room for signs of threeheaded dogs and statues.

The scent of magic and the land of the dead is nowhere to be found. A dream, then. It must be. But why such a vivid nightmare after my meeting with Anubis? I rub a hand down my face as weak sunlight filters through my window.

I stand, still feeling the lightheadedness of Anubis’ tincture, and feel something drop against my toes. Squinting down at the carpet, I reach down and pluck a shiny piece of metal from the floor. My blood runs cold as I see the etching of Lupa. Heart hammering, I flip it over.

Find me.

I look up, staring at my door, to where Violet’s room

waits just across the hall, and curl my fingers around the curse tablet from my dream. That path appeared to me for a reason. The statues were of Hecate, I feel it as surely as the ground beneath me. MinJun’s death led Anubis to Richard Greene. To Tooth and Talon and the halls of Ravenswood. And there is one person I know who has more knowledge than anyone about all of those things.

I cross my room and open the door. My spine straightens as curls of magic whisper to me from the crack below Violet’s door.

The curse tablet grows hot in my palm.

I don’t bother to be quiet as I march across the narrow hall and barge inside without knocking. Violet jumps, bent over her forearm, cheeks stained pink.

‘AAndy,’ she stammers, slapping a palm over her arm. ‘Is everything okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’

My eyes fall to the blood peeking between her fingers. I step forward and pull her hand away, my heart stilling at the sight of a perfect cut on her forearm. Red seeps over the edges, smeared and dark and ugly.

‘What are you doing?’ I demand.

Her eyes, wide and dark blue, fill with tears. ‘I was just testing a theory, I swear. I thought I could do it. A cut, just a small one. It should be so easy to heal.’ Her voice breaks and she slumps against the pillows, the fire dying from her expression. ‘My magic is failing me.’

I drop her hand, stung. ‘Anubis sent me a message last night,’ I say without pretense.

She blinks away her tears, her brow creased as she takes in my appearance. ‘Did he find a way to cure my cancer? Is it Hecate?’

I open my hand, thrusting the curse tablet below her nose.

‘What do you know about the society that uses this symbol?’

‘Society?’

I drop the tablet onto her lap. ‘I know they have something to do with Jae’s aunt’s death at their school in Edinburgh. And Anubis told me Richard Greene studied the occult in Scotland before forming Ravenswood and Tooth and Talon. Those two things can’t be a coincidence. You know more about magic and that school than anyone.’

Violet brushes the tablet with her fingers. ‘Min Jun? Andy, what’s happening?’

My nostrils flare, and heat floods my face. Runs down my chest.

‘Tell me what you know, Violet. Because if you don’t, Hecate might die before we can find her.’

Violet’s room is strewn with books about the Roman Empire. Drawings of Lupa, of Romulus and Remus, dance before my eyes. All of Violet’s impressive collection of books, articles and journals about Ravenswood, Rome, and Tooth and Talon are piled around us. My sister sits crosslegged on her bed, bent over a crumbling book that smells like mildew.

‘There’s a society whose members use that symbol,’ she says, rubbing her forehead with one hand, ‘but I can’t remember where I saw it. All I remember is that Greene wrote a little about it, and it has something to do with a university he visited when he was in Scotland. I wasn’t very focused on Greene’s life before Ravenswood. I just wanted to understand how he managed to bind Ossivorus to himself to prolong his life.’

I flip a page halfheartedly, feeling empty and cold at the mention of the demon who haunted us last year. ‘But they’re real. You remember seeing them in his notes.’

‘Yes, they’re real. But I don’t know why they’d frighten Hecate so much that she’s hiding herself away.’

‘Funny that you can recollect the right grimoire to practice a healing spell but can’t remember something this important.’

Violet makes a sound of frustration. ‘I get that you are angry right now, but snipping at me while I try to recall something I read two years ago isn’t helping anything.’

‘Did you forget that Anubis saw a god murdered? And that the one person who could heal you may be next? Or do you keep secrets from me because you enjoy it?’ I slap my book closed.

‘No, but I’m tired and –’

‘You wouldn’t be so tired if you stopped using magic for five seconds –’

‘Maybe if you weren’t being a coward and actually used yours, you’d have found Hecate by now!’ Violet slams her hand down on the bed. ‘But instead, she sends you a dream message and not me? Someone who refuses to even summon a candle?’

I glare at her, my skin pricking with heat. We stare at each other, shoulders heaving, anger sparking between us like embers.

‘You betrayed me, Violet,’ I say through clenched teeth, every muscle taut with hurt. ‘You drew me to Ravenswood, pretended you were dead, so that you could use my magic to fuel your binding spell to Ossivorus, to take Greene’s place as his anchor. And still after all these months, you won’t listen to a word I say. I don’t know why Hecate is hiding, or why she sent me that message. But you can do something right now by finding Greene’s notes on the Order.’

Slowly, Violet’s shoulders drop, and she runs her hand along the bristle on her scalp. Her eyes look a little brighter

than last night, like our fight, or even just talking about magic, has revitalized her. And I hate that I feel jealous of something so intangible. That she’s willing to get better for something else instead of me.

‘Andy,’ she says softly, her voice choked. She holds out her hand like it’s a lifeline. ‘I’m sorry.’

I stare at her hand, fingers thin and pale.

My throat stings, and I blink hard. ‘What happened to us, Vee? Will we ever be like we were before?’

She flinches, her hand curling inward, untouched. ‘I don’t know.’ Violet gives a wan smile, extending her fingers again. ‘But I hope so.’

Slowly, I reach for her. Her palm feels dry against mine, but she curls her fingers and holds me tight, and the knot in my chest loosens a little. She tugs my arm, and I sit next to her on the bed. Violet smooths my messy hair back and tucks my head against her shoulder.

Tears well in my eyes, misting my glasses. We stay like that, neither of us speaking or moving. And I wish, for a terrible moment, that magic wasn’t real, even if it could save Violet. Because then, maybe she and I could be sisters again.

But then I see the bloodstained gauze on her forearm, and my fantasy crumbles to ash, just like the mysterious road in the Underworld.

Her shoulders stiffen, jostling my glasses.

‘What?’ I ask.

She brushes my hair back, humming a thoughtful sound. ‘Nothing. I just thought of something about Lupa in Greene’s journals. When Mom gets home from work later tonight, we can have her get a few boxes of my things that are still at Grandma and Grandpa Emmerson’s place from last year. I’m sure I’ve seen the symbol before in Greene’s writings.’

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All The Wicked

All The Wicked catelyn wilson

Prologue

The Underworld

October