“That would explain why Egyptian creepy things are drawn there,” I mused. “It feels like home.”
“The Nephilim are descended from the fallen angels. They don’t really have a home.”
“No, but when they settled all over the world and gave rise to the legends that named them, they adopted one.”
“True,” he agreed.
“If Egyptian supernatural creatures traveled to America for whatever reason, I can understand why they’d gravitate to an area that was similar to where they’d spent centuries—if not in climate, at least in terrain and name. Shall we head for Cairo?”
“May as well,” Jimmy agreed.
I glanced at the Dagda. “You’ll be coming with us?”
“I will remain.”
“But”—I clenched my hands into fists—“you agreed to fight on my side.”
“And fight I will, once you grant my boon.”
“Which is?”
“I haven’t decided.”
Jimmy made an impatient sound. “And he never will. He’s as sneaky as a leprechaun.”
“I am nothing like a leprechaun.” The Dagda appeared insulted.
“They’re cunning and slick.” Jimmy narrowed his eyes. “They twist words to suit their purpose. They deceive every chance that they get.”
The fairy god tilted his head. “Perhaps I am like a leprechaun.”
“If he never requests a boon,” Jimmy said, “then he never owes you his allegiance, which is how he’ll remain down here and out of the fight.”
“Are you afraid?” I asked the Dagda.
I expected him to reach for his huge club, and then use it on my head. Instead, he laughed. “I fear nothing, light’s leader. However, I’d prefer to choose a side when the winner is more certain.”
“We’ll win,” I said.
“When you believe that with both your heart and your head, let me know.”
I turned back to the caldron. “What does the Phoenix look like?”
The water had gone black again, but as soon as I spoke the murk cleared.
“Not me,” I muttered impatiently, lifting my hand to rub away the dirt across my cheek. “The . . .”
I paused, cursing when I realized why the reflection had not lifted her hand and rubbed at her face too.
The Phoenix looked a helluva lot like me.
CHAPTER 22
“What is it?” Jimmy started forward, but I held him back with a lift of one finger. I wanted to study the face of the Phoenix, to catalog the differences, and I needed a little quiet time to do it.
Hair curlier than mine, maybe because it was longer, darker too, more the cast of Jimmy’s blue-black tresses than the auburn I called my own, eyes also dark. Guess Daddy was the source of my blue eyes, or perhaps one of his relatives. Her skin reflected a lifetime beneath a hundred thousand suns. I’d always known I wasn’t white, that I was at least part something else. But I’d figured African-American, Native American, even Italian-American, never Egyptian.
If you saw her in the shadows, if you saw me in the dark, we could easily be mistaken for the other. Which might work out to my advantage, or it might yet get me killed.
“We need to go.” I glanced at the Dagda. “To Cairo, Illinois.”
“Follow me.” He ducked through the opening of the cave.
I motioned for Jimmy to proceed, but he was already moving. I suppose getting out of the Otherworld was worth anything. Even getting out of here with me.
“You will hold hands,” the Dagda ordered.
I could barely see Jimmy. The damn mist was thicker and colder than ever. I inched closer, but he inched back. I reached for him, and he lifted his lip like a cornered dog.
“Knock that off before I smack you with a rolled newspaper,” I muttered. “I won’t bite.”
“Yes,” he said simply, “you will.”
I grabbed his hand anyway, holding on tightly in case he took it into his head to pull away. I was treating him like a little kid again, but if the behavior fit . . .
As soon as I touched him a warm, dry wind stirred my hair. We were no longer in the cool, misty Otherworld but standing on a decent-sized hill above a tired small town bordered by a lot of muddy water. I’d seen the Mississippi River often enough to recognize it.
“Welcome to Cairo,” I murmured.
Jimmy was looking around, blinking as if he couldn’t believe his eyes. “Freak-y,” he said. “I didn’t even see him . . . anything.”
“Guess it pays to be a fairy god.”
“Probably not well.”
Jimmy was joking again. That was good. It just had to be, so I smiled, even though he chose that moment to yank his hand out of mine as if I’d recently been infected with leprosy.
I tried to make conversation, so I wouldn’t have to deal with the fact that the only time he could bear to touch me was when he was evil.
“Nice hill.” I kicked the grass, which was more like hay, and a puff of dirt rose around my foot. “Back where I come from, we call those from the Land of Lincoln flatlanders, with good reason.”
“Back where I come from too.” Jimmy headed for Cairo, his pace speeding up more than it should have despite the downward dip, probably because he didn’t try to slow his pace.