“Why are you here?” Anubis was groggy, unable to lift his head off the stone floor she knelt upon.
“Be still, we only have moments,” Mama told him. “Your body is dying, but your soul will remain.”
Her words confused him until he remembered the plague, the raging fever that had gripped him, burning out his consciousness as he lay helplessly in the French compound among the sick and dying. “Helena,” he remembered, bolting upright.
“It is too late for her,” Mama told him sadly. “You must listen to me, child. When you wake up, you will no longer be human. You will be like the adze, a creature who needs blood to survive.”
His jackal crept forward from the shadows, a welcome familiarity as it settled down next to Mama, its eyes aglow.
“I don’t understand…” Anubis murmured. “Are you dead?”
“Shokpana’s sickness took me long before the woman blood drinker killed you and gave you her blood,” she replied. “Now hear me. When you rise, you will feel a hunger grip you unlike any other. Find an animal to eat so you can control yourself. Return to the village and save as many of our people as you can. There is madness there. King Agaja’s army has swept through, thinking the kingdom weak with death. But the sickness created monsters, which drew the attention of wicked spirits. The humans are being forced to fight them all. You must save them.”
“Wicked spirits?”
“Trust in me, child,” Mama said. “You will see when you rise. Now it is time for you to know who you truly are and what you have left behind.”
The jackal crept closer with no Legba to stop him.
“You will have your answers.” She rose to her feet, stepping backwards with a sad smile. “Until we meet again.”
Anubis tried to move forward to kiss her cheek, but the eyes of the jackal grabbed his attention, shining hematite stones penetrating his own. He gasped as he saw the pyramids of Egypt, heard the shriek of a kite, smelled the rushing black rivers of the Underworld. Every memory he’d ever lost came rushing back to him, assaulting his mind as he staggered, trying to make sense of it all. The jackal’s howl echoed in his mind, finally succeeding in bringing him to his knees. And then the hunger hit, jolting him back to consciousness.
The craving burned every part of his body, demanding submission. His mind wanted to piece together all that had transpired but the thirst was stronger, lifting him out of the sand and catapulting him forward to the plains. He was shocked at how fast he moved, arriving at his destination in a matter of minutes with little exertion. Although it was night, everything around him seemed vivid, as if it had been infused with moonlight though the sky above held only distant stars. He found the herd of antelopes before they had a chance to sense him and he lunged clumsily, hearing Mama’s words as he sunk his teeth into one of the poor beasts, sucking it dry and chucking it aside before chasing after another. The thirst did not quench until the last animal fell to the dirt, Anubis heaving for breath as the leftover blood dripped down his chin.
Then he remembered Helena.
He raced back towards the village, away from his carnage, realizing he’d become like David, like Lucius, like his mother once was. He was one of them—a blood drinking immortal, his past restored and at war with his human present. He was Anubis, the god of the Underworld, but he was also Helena’s husband, and he was just as frantic now to find her as when he stumbled his way to her chambers, dying in his fevered human shell. He heard screaming and the laughter of hyenas before he saw billowing smoke, the entire village ablaze.
He saw glimpses of Agaja’s warriors fighting what looked like beasts obscured by the thick smoke, but he rushed past them all into the French compound. Fire had yet to climb over its walls, but he had to fight through swarms of flies to reach her chambers, the smell of waste and decaying flesh souring the air. Even with heightened senses, he struggled to distinguish between which bodies carelessly thrown across the floor were dead and which were still alive. Skin both light and dark, French and African, all thrown together, dying in a heap of misery. The lack of human dignity made him sick but he pushed on, finding the door to her room still bolted shut. He used his weight to push it open, revealing her laying still on her bed, a slip of arm hanging out of the blanket, her hand already stiff. A dark liquid had dripped through the mattress and pooled on the floor. He rushed to her side regardless, and gathered her lifeless body into his arms.
The groan that escaped his lips sounded otherworldly, laced with a heart-shattering pain that transcended his immortality. He held her to his chest as his body shook, unable to reconcile his sorrow. Mama was right—he was too late. He tried not to picture her on the day they married, how the candlelit grotto brought warmth to her ghostly visage in lacey stays, since she’d refused to wear anything that looked like a formal gown. She’d let her light hair fall loose around her shoulders, twisting around layers of his beaded necklaces.
“We are not following my traditions or yours,” had been her first stipulation when he asked her to be his wife. “No witnesses, no spirits, no recitations. Just you and I.”
He had agreed, letting her plan it all, delighted to see the grotto she found and filled with flowers and candles. It brought a smile to his face that did not leave as they spoke promises to each other, nor when they made love afterwards on the damp, wax speckled floor.
He didn’t want to let go of her now, but he heard a groan behind him and remembered Mama’s instruction. He laid down the disease-ravaged body that had once held his wife’s soul, draping her blanket back over her and kissing where it lay over her eyes.
He went to the heap of blankets across the room to find Thomas, emaciated with painful sores riddling his skin, remembering him now as his dear friend, Thoth. Anubis bit his neck immediately, before his mind started to wonder how he felt hunger where he once felt disgust, letting him fall back before cutting his own wrists as he’d seen others do, dripping blackened blood into his friend’s open mouth.
Anubis fell back to gather his bearings. He wondered how long it would take, but the crackling sound of an approaching fire let him know they couldn’t chance a lengthy wait. He lifted the still unconscious Thomas onto his shoulders, refusing to look back at Helena’s corpse, and hurdled himself out the window of the compound.
The fire raged around the palace, slowly melting the mudbrick and going wild when it reached the straw rooftops. Anubis broke into a run, searching for a place where they could find refuge. He saw the convent still intact and hurried inside. The interior was dark and lifeless, untouched by the outside calamity. He laid Thomas gently down on the ground, and rose to begin searching to see if any priests survived.
“Leave this place,” a haggard voice tried to sound intimidating, but failed.
Anubis saw Xevi’s scrawny frame, barely able to stand. His hollowed face was covered in sores, sweat coursing down his skin. He held a knife loosely in his hand.
“Xevi, it’s Anubis,” he told him gently. “I’ve come back to save those I can.”
“I do not need you to save me,” Xevi insisted, though he swayed where he stood. Sickly yellow surrounded his dark eyes.
Anubis rushed to help him to the ground. “Reveal to me the wicked souls who fight us,” he said.
“Can you not hear their laughter?” Xevi said through chattering lips, though his skin burned to the touch. “They are hyenas, possessed by magic to attack both the living and the dead.”
Anubis frowned. “The dead?”
“The dead have risen to attack the living,” Xevi said, closing his eyes. “The hyenas came to make sure no one is left alive, so the dead can rise again as mindless creatures, able to be controlled by dark magic. Someone has cursed this land.” He erupted, spewing blood and froth onto the dirt.
The sight of it stirred Anubis, the hunger pangs from earlier creeping back into the forefront of his mind. Did it ever cease? he wondered as his eyes drifted towards Xevi’s exposed neck, hearing the sweet song of blood in his veins.
“I will stop them,” Anubis promised, although he’d begun to salivate, his eyes fixed on the throbbing vein in his neck. “But first, I must save you.”
Before Xevi could protest, Anubis clamped down on his neck, releasing his fevered blood into his mouth. Xevi barely stirred. He drank deep before he returned the favor, splattering his immortal blood into the open mouth of his fellow priest.
No sooner had he pulled back than he was interrupted by the largest hyena he had ever seen hurtling into the room. Anubis immediately ducked out of the way, his newly developed speed causing the beast to slam against the wall. It shook off the blow, allowing him time to observe its manic black eyes and gore-splattered fur as it licked blood off jagged teeth. It lunged again but Anubis was quicker, pouncing to land on top of its back. He grabbed its grotesque, cackling head and pulled until he heard a sick, juicy pop. Anubis jumped off, throwing the freshly severed head aside as its body crumpled to the floor. He paused to catch his breath, watching the bleeding lump shrink back to its normal size. Someone enchanted the animals, he realized.
He startled as another beast came stampeding through the door, but this time, he saw Thomas, fully revived, with his teeth in the beast’s neck. It fell, skidding across the floor as it tried to thrash him off. Finally, it stilled, letting Thomas take his fill before he broke away with a satisfied slurp. He stood, wiping hyena blood from his lips. “Hello,” he panted.
“Forgive me, it was the only way I could save you,” Anubis explained hurriedly. “I will tell you everything, but first we must save what is left of the village. Someone has unleashed a curse upon us.”
“Where is Helena?”
Anubis found he couldn’t say the words. Fortunately, the crestfallen look upon Thomas’s face let him know he didn’t need to.
“You villain!” Xevi interrupted, taking them by surprise as he threw Anubis to the floor.
