Yellowed bandages whipped back and forth, snapping in the air and partially unwinding from the body, revealing glimpses of decay and rot. Every mummy movie I’d ever watched played out in my mind, and I couldn’t help but scoot back several feet, leaving Dr. Hassan in a worshipful state by himself.
Bit by bit, the wrappings peeled away and whirled around the decayed body in a maelstrom. Fragments of bandages seemed to be stuck to the skull. When an explosion of dusty particles finally freed the arms and legs, I gasped and fell back on my elbows. Coughing violently, and wondering if I was inhaling crumbling bits of Amon’s brother, I cowered in place.
The power that Amon was channeling suddenly waned, the mummy dropping slowly back down toward the coffin as the high-velocity wind weakened. Turning my head, I saw Amon’s eyes trained on me. He was concerned, that much I could easily read, but there was something more, something else in his expression—a kind of sadness. I realized then that his power must have diminished because I’d distracted him.
Facing forward again, I resolved to control my reactions. I needed to let the scary business of resurrecting a man who’d been dead for a thousand years play out as if I were simply watching a movie. There was nothing to be afraid of. It was all just a magic show—a trick done with mirrors and lights. Amon turned his head. His jaw tightened with renewed determination and the wind picked up again, more invigorated than before.
Sightless orbs and a gaping mouth rimmed with teeth peeked through the wrappings as they fell away. The body was withered, shrunken—a dried husk of a man. The remaining skin was stretched tight and looked like fragments of old leather. In some places it was ripped off completely, revealing grayish bones with hanging bits of flesh. I turned away and covered my mouth with my hand, desperately trying not to vomit.
Amon had once looked like this. How could I have wanted to kiss him? On the one hand, Amon was pretty much the hottest guy on the planet, both in the literal sense and in the good-looking-guy way. What girl didn’t want a magically gifted, undead sort-of boyfriend who could give heated massages? But I wasn’t a typical girl. I was realistic. And what was staring at me right now was a very realistic version of a decomposing, moldering dead guy whose expression was that of a man screaming as he was entombed.
How could I ignore the powdery clumps of flesh, the rotting wrappings, and the peekaboo yellow bones? Swallowing, I turned around and caught Amon watching me again. I realized he’d likely been using his special eye-power thing to read my mind. The idea that he knew what I was thinking made me feel ashamed and bristly at the same time. Ashamed because I should be made of stronger stuff. How could I imagine myself as the girlfriend of a real-life mummy/sun god if I couldn’t handle a little rot and decay? And irritated that Amon could read me so easily. A girl had a right to her own private thoughts. I was handling everything pretty well, all things considered. I just needed a little time to wrap my head around the idea that the guy I liked looked like the body floating in the air during his off-season.
Amon was still trembling, which made me worry that he didn’t have enough power to complete the process. Briefly, I envisioned what Amon’s brother would look like if he ended up half-formed due to Amon’s waning power, and shuddered. Thinking that I could help in some way, I rose and touched Amon’s quaking arm.
Before I could say a word, he barked, “Get back, Lily!”
“But I just thought you might need—”
“You are mistaken,” he hissed angrily. “I do not need you. Please stay by Dr. Hassan for your own protection.”
“Amon…” I began, but then I saw the set of his jaw and felt the tightness in the muscles of his arm. He refused to look at me.
Resigned, I resumed my position by Dr. Hassan and wondered what I’d done to make Amon so angry. After I was settled, he began chanting again.
Ibis—give flight to his spirit
And ease his passage.