Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 123065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 615(@200wpm)___ 492(@250wpm)___ 410(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 615(@200wpm)___ 492(@250wpm)___ 410(@300wpm)
“Exactly.” I hold out my hand. “Thank you, Anne, I appreciate it.”
I take her outstretched hand quickly so that Cleo doesn’t see the trembling fingers. Gently, I squeeze, then lean in and whisper in her ear. “Calm your chaos.”
Anne immediately relaxes her hand and pulls back then smiles brightly up at us, and then covers a yawn. “Wow, sorry just got tired. Thanks again, I’m gonna go… Enjoy and let me know if you have any questions!”
“Thank you,” Cleo says.
I nod while Anne walks over to the desk and slumps in her chair, then I pull Cleo in the opposite direction toward the Hall of Immortals.
She’ll be obsessed; it’s a gift, to give her knowledge before I take the last of her power.
We keep walking; she passes Zeus, Athena, then stops at Horus and myself in a very real looking altercation. “He’s not as big as I thought he’d be.”
I stumble and run into first her, then the plain gray statue, nearly knocking it to the ground and ruining centuries of curation. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”
The statue is the only one that hasn’t been polished to perfection but left in its original state, looking old, sad, looming, destructive. Perfect.
“Ra,” she repeats. “He’s, kind of…” Is she seriously tilting her head right now? “…small and old.”
Did—did she just use her thumb and forefinger to show just how small? Seriously?
I gape at her, a bit horrified. “Do you know nothing of Ra’s strength?”
When she looks over, it’s a total look of I’m the idiot, not her. “Well, take Zeus for an instance.”
Oh shit, I might kill someone today. She’s insulting the history! Ra is huge!
Was.
Is.
Whatever.
What the hell?
“What about Zeus?” I jab a finger at the damned statue. I like him, I tolerate him. He has a farm with a chicken named PJ, who he refuses to kill but still. “He’s small, so very small, I bet his—” I take a deep breath. “He’s tiny. Minuscule compared to Ra.”
She shrugs. “Meh, I don’t know. I mean—” She looks over at Anubis and smiles. “Even he looks tall and godlike. Why do you think they made Ra look so small, then? Truly?”
Not Anubis. Literally anyone but Anubis.
My nostrils flair, and I’m about to tell her exactly what I think when the power fails around us, throwing us into instant darkness and near, absolute silence.
Shit.
Again?
Kratos knows better. I’m sure he and Apep are still fighting. I’m sure Enki just sent some people cheerfully away, skipping, holding rolls in their hands.
Son of a bitch.
Thunder cracks.
Rain pounds the building making it sound like the ceiling is going to come down, and Cleo suddenly just shrinks in front of me and shakes her head.
“What? It’s just a little storm, it’s fine.” I reach for her.
She’s trembling, and then she grabs onto the Ra statue, without thinking I’m sure, as if he’s going to comfort her in that state.
I’m suddenly jealous of a rotting statue.
I grab her by the hand. “I promise the lights will go on really soon, the generator always kicks in during bad storms.”
“I h-hate the rain. I hate storms.”
I frown. I wasn’t expecting that, quite the opposite actually; normally the bloodline loves the storms because they cover up the sun. Huh, interesting.
“Well…” I pull her closer. “Why don’t we distract you a bit. Why do you think they made Ra smaller?”
She hesitates at first, her teeth chattering. “Because as a god he wasn’t very big, he just appeared that way from being in the sky.”
“Bullshit.” I draw her a bit closer still then lean in and whisper in her ear. “It was so they could feel bigger than the sun.”
Her little gasp makes me want to capture her lips, something I’ve never done with any of them.
The lights turn on, and I pull away.
She looks away, nostrils flaring. “I’m sorry, that was inappropriate.”
“We all have our moments when we’re afraid,” I say gruffly, not wanting to admit out loud how much the touch affected even me. “Should we continue the tour?”
She nods.
I look back at the statues and flip them all off and keep walking, satisfied with my own disdain.
The rest of the tour is uneventful other than her running toward things like she’s a five-year-old who hasn’t been in a museum in her life, and while I tell myself I’m annoyed, I’m also filled with pride of my own heritage.
We have another hour before she suddenly gets tired and stops in front of the final case.
The book.
One that I haven’t touched in a very long time. It’s not refusal, it’s that the calling makes me sad, and feeling emotion makes my job extremely difficult.
“I haven’t seen this before.” Her fingers tremble and reach for the glass then pull back like she’s been stung. “The Ancient Gods of Egypt and the Fall of Heaven?”