Sucking in a shaky breath, I wiped my face and, bag in hand, exited the exhibit. Numbly, I walked toward the museum entrance and was surprised when a hand touched my arm. “Miss Lilliana? Are you all right?”
I let out a shaky breath and attempted to smile, though I wasn’t sure my lips were able to form much more than a grimace. “Hi, Tony,” I said. “I’m fine. It’s just been a really, really long day.”
“Ah, then have a good evening, Miss Young.”
“I will. Oh, and, Tony?” He turned. “Please call me Lily.”
He gave me a warm smile. “Of course, Miss Lily.”
As I exited the museum, the scents, sights, and sounds of New York City overwhelmed me. They were familiar but no longer what I loved.
How could I forget the sand-swept vistas, the desert oases, the ancient pyramids, and the mummies brought to life, and go back to the life I knew before? I was utterly changed from my time with Amon. It wasn’t right that we had to be separated. I couldn’t even put flowers on his grave.
Still, I was grateful to know that he existed somewhere and would continue to exist long after I was gone. I took some comfort in his promise to watch over me wherever he was, and deep in my heart I knew he would always be with me.
Amon had said that a bond like ours meant we might see each other in our dreams. I knew that killing him was supposed to have broken our bond and yet he didn’t feel so very far away. Closing my eyes, I lifted my face to the sun and felt its warmth on my skin, imagining it was Amon caressing my cheek. The heat traveled down my shoulders and torso before it focused on my heart.
It burned, and I smiled as I felt my heart beating. Then I looked down, puzzled as I felt something shift in my shirt pocket. I reached inside to find Amon’s heart scarab. It wasn’t my heartbeat after all. It was the stone drumming a slow rhythm, its soothing beat warm and alive in my palm. Though the odds seemed insurmountable, Amon’s heart was a small miracle that gave me hope.
With a small secret smile, I folded my fingertips over the heart scarab and raised my other hand to hail a cab.
“Bring him forth,” the goddess Ma’at proclaimed.
“I do not understand why this is necessary. It never has been before,” the young man protested.
“What is going on here?” Anubis asked as he entered.
“This young man must place his heart on the scales of justice,” the goddess explained patiently.
Anubis ran a hand through his hair, relieved to have changed out of his modern-day clothing. “But he is not really dead. His judgment is suspended until he is released from his duty.”
“In this case, he must be evaluated. He bound himself to a mortal and was slain by a mortal. If the death of their union is to be final, then there must be an assessment.”
“But his death is not final.”
“That is immaterial. All things must be balanced.” She indicated the golden scales set before her. “His heart must be weighed to determine if his actions on Earth are worthy.”
“They were,” Anubis vouched.
Ma’at chastised, “Above all things we are charged with following the laws of the cosmos.”
Anubis grunted. “Fine. Then get it over with.”
The beautiful goddess took an ostrich feather from her headdress and placed it on the scale closest to her, then smiled benevolently at the young man standing by Anubis. The gods stared expectantly as he stood quietly, head lowered, and fists clenched.
After a silent moment passed, Ma’at spoke. “You are aware of what you must do, are you not? Anubis, perhaps you had better explain things.”
The young man answered with a determined gleam in his eyes. “I know what I must do.”
“Then you may proceed,” the goddess denoted, with a small gesture toward the scales.
And with a secretive gleam in his eye, the young man flicked his wrist and disappeared.