eyes. “Yeah,” he said softly. “What’s done is done.”
Chapter 3
“The Greeks loved a good oracle, though they were not the first culture to embrace the art of prophecy. For millennia, necromancers have approached the Oracle of Anubis to find out their life’s purpose. Not every query is answered nor is all news heard welcomed. However, unlike the questionable nature of the Greeks’ oracles, the prophecies told by the Oracle of Anubis might as well be written in stone. A necromancer is always at the behest of Anubis’s will.”
~History of Necromancy, Volume II
In the dream, I walked through a tunnel carved out of rock. Ahead, I saw lights flickering and my footsteps quickened. Unrelenting black followed me, shadows that seemed to chase and growl, as if trying to stop me from going forward.
Torches lit the small, circular room, which was hewn out of the reddish stone and painted in bright hues. It looked like a picture from a history textbook. The incense was thick, but its odd scent wasn’t unpleasant. The only statue on the altar was Anubis, god of necromancy. I walked to the small wooden table and stared at the painted idol. Slowly, I reached out and touched it.
The statue felt warm. Alive.
“I present to you Molly Inez Bartolucci,” whispered a low, feminine voice. “She comes before you to be judged worthy of your gifts.” Then, like the white smoke of the incense, the voice faded away.
I wasn’t sure what was going on. I’d never been to any place like this. I had a small altar to Anubis in my room and every day, I said a prayer and made an offering. Dad taught Ally and me about honoring Anubis, even though Dad wasn’t a necro. He said we should always respect the gods and offer our gratitude daily.
I was still in my pajamas, and I was trapped in a place I had no idea how to leave. It was only a dream. Right? But...but if it was a dream, how did I know that? Wake up, Molly.
“Be still, daughter.” The booming voice bounced off the chapel’s walls and vibrated in my chest.
“Anubis.” I fell to my knees, more from fear than in supplication. Still, it had the same effect. I felt the death god’s approval.
“Your task will be great, daughter. And at times, the burden of your gift will be heavy. I have looked into your heart and judged you worthy. You are a child of Anubis, chosen of my gifts. Are you willing to accept my bidding?”
“Yes,” I said, because I was afraid not to agree. Hel-lo. God of the Underworld. The Reaper of all Reapers. I don’t think you’re allowed to say no.
“Of course you can say no,” said a voice that was closer, softer, but no less commanding. “Those who serve me, serve willingly.”
I hadn’t realized my eyes were closed, but they were. I didn’t want to open them, but then I felt a gentle hand cup my chin. So I opened my eyes.
The man sitting next to me cross-legged wore a T-shirt and jeans. He was barefoot. He had skin like a café latte and his almond-shaped eyes were as dark as the night. His long black hair brushed his shoulders.
Huh. Anubis was cute. Not my type at all, though. In fact I felt a little...repelled. Probably because he was a god and all.
“Trust me, Molly, I’m not cute.” He laughed. “This is just the form I’m taking now.”
Whoa. Anubis could read my thoughts. I blushed. “Sorry.”
“I’m quite old...say, around infinity. Cosmos, spiritual energy, psychic nuances...it’s complicated.”
“Oh. Well, if it’s more complicated than algebra, I’m out.”
He laughed. “Got it.”
He took my hand and turned it over. Little lines of black sparkles followed Anubis’s finger as he traced patterns in my palm. Heat followed the trails.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Giving you the gifts you will need for what challenges lie ahead. You’re choosing to serve.”
“Yes,” I reiterated even though he hadn’t really asked a question. I was scared and not at all sure I could do what he wanted, and the whole challenges thing did not sound fun. “Um...what challenges?”
He looked at me, and his wise-beyond-the-ages expression held amusement. “It will be revealed as you go. Think of it as a life puzzle, something I’ve given you the ability, intelligence and talent to put together. Patience, wisdom and fortitude are what you’ll have to cultivate to prevail.”
My stomach clenched as I realized the weight of his words. “What if I can’t do whatever it is?”
“I believe you can.” He pressed my hand between both of his. His dark eyes held mine. “And so must you, daughter.”
“Molly? Wake up!”
Ally’s screeching voice echoed in the cave. Anubis winked at me, and disappeared. For a moment, I sat alone in the cavern, and wondered what the—
“Molly!”
“Ugh!” I pried open my eyes and found Ally leaning over me. The curtain of her brunette hair tickled my forehead.
I blinked up at her. “Jeez. I’m awake already.” I glanced at the digital clock. 1:06 a.m. I sat up in my bed and she crawled in next to me. She wore Happy Bunny pajamas. The top said I Deserve All My Stuff. The rude pink cartoon character was one of her faves, which figured. My sis was, in a lot of ways, Happy Bunny.
She tossed a small wrapped gift in my lap. “Happy birthday.”
I grinned. After Mom had bailed on us, I’d started the birthday game. I woke up Ally on the exact time and day of her birth (3:03 a.m. on November 4), and gave her a present. She surprised me the next year, on my birthday, by doing the same. It was a tradition we’d created and stuck by—no matter how much we irritated each other.
I plucked off the tiny bow and tugged at the taped edge.
“Have you seen Deadlings?”
What had she taped this with? Super Glue? I glanced at her. “No. Is it a movie or something?”
She sighed. “Deadlings and the Cursed Ones is one of our necromancy books. It’s not on the shelf. I wanted to look something up—”
I stopped picking at the tape. “What?” I asked sharply. Ally was too smart for her own good. Her plans created mondo trouble. I mean, they always worked, but again...mondo trouble. I wasn’t getting grounded again because of her. Shall we discuss the zombie dog incident? Yes, animals can be zombified—but it’s illegal. Animal souls are different from people souls. Animals brought back are usually vicious and can’t be controlled. More than one pet owner has ended up injured or dead because they took their precious fluffywuffykins to a black market zombie-maker. And having dead, vicious dogs appeals to certain criminal types. But does my sister pay attention? No. At the tender age of twelve, Ally had come across a zombie Doberman chained in a yard and talked me into rescuing it. And by rescue, I mean being chased and almost eaten.
Somehow,
