The Chaos of Stars

My mother sighs, and she sounds sad. “We will do nothing. We will forget her name.”

“You can’t,” Nephthys says, crawling toward the bed. “You can’t!”

My father shifts slightly, blocking her way forward. If any of this has ruffled his calm, I certainly can’t tell. But something in his eyes when he looks at Nephthys tells me that in her grand plans she didn’t account for what his wrath would have been if she had succeeded.

“I treasured your name,” my mother says, looking at Nephthys and then deliberately looking away. “I wrote it on my heart. I will keep your name alive no longer.”

Silently weeping, Nephthys stands and stumbles from the room. She seems smaller, dimmer, already diminished. I wonder how long it will take her to fade now that she has lost my mother’s love and magic. My rage spent, I feel sorry for her, sorry for the unfathomable spans of time she had and wasted.

I turn to my mother, smooth back a stray lock of hair from her forehead.

She smiles at me, lips dry and pulled tight over her teeth. “My brave, clever girl. As soon as I’m well, we’ll go for a picnic on the Nile.”

“I’d like that.” I would. I’m ready to get to know her without the poison I let destroy our relationship, without the strain of misunderstanding between us. I’m actually excited about spending time together.

“And darling?”

“Yes?”

“What in the three kingdoms have you done to your hair? You’re grounded.”

Okay, new plan. Back to San Diego and getting to know her through the phone and email, instead.

“Oh! Osiris! It’s time. Get the birthing stool.” She smiles, then grimaces, and puts a hand over her stomach. Floods, that time. “Isadora, you’ve made this all possible. I would like you to deliver the baby.”

And maybe what I said to Nephthys about my mother loving me isn’t true after all, because that’s just sick. “Mom, I’d take a demon snakebite for you, but I am so gone until that thing is out of your stomach and cleaned.”

I turn toward the door. Ry’s got his hands shoved in his pockets, broad shoulders pushed up. “Umm, vengeful goddess and crazed god of embalming out there?”

“Baby being squeezed out of my mother’s birth canal in here.”

He runs into the hall ahead of me. “Do you have any weapons?” he asks.

We both scream as we nearly plow into a man standing in the hall.

“Thoth?” I stare up into his small, kind eyes. “Please don’t tell me you’re secretly evil, too. I don’t think I could handle it.”

He smiles, turning both hands into birdies. “What’s the problem?” one of them asks.

“Crazy Anubis and Nephthys tried to kill my mom. And me. They might still be around here.”

The other hand-bird’s eyes narrow murderously. It is way, way more threatening than I ever imagined a bird hand puppet could be. “I will take care of it,” it croaks.

“Okay . . .”

Thoth’s smile hasn’t left, but he stands taller, and I notice a power about him that has always been disguised by his gentleness. “I have watched over your mother since before she was born. I will do the same for you, little one.”

Beaming, I go on my tiptoes and kiss his wrinkled cheek. “I’m glad I alw

ays remembered you. And I promise I always will.” Thoth nods, and I watch as his narrow, stooped frame disappears around the hall corner.

I doubt we’ll see Anubis or Nephthys here again. I don’t know how Set will feel about what his wife did, or about her decline. I don’t know what it will mean if such a permanent part of their family disappears forever. But I am content to let my parents work out their own problems.

“Come on,” I say, taking Ry’s hand. “We can hide in my room.”

Before locking the door behind us, I look in all the corners to double-check for lurking gods, but with Thoth here I feel calm. Safe.

“You have a bit of a theme,” Ry says, looking around my room, which my mother hasn’t destroyed yet. Thank goodness. I don’t plan on staying here—what Sirus said about learning who we are away from our mother feels both true and timely. Now that I’ve finally accepted her and realized she always loved me, I think I can discover who I am without it revolving around what I’m not. San Diego seems like a good place to figure that out.