Sobek was waiting for him upon the roof of the place when he finally reached home. The cold rain sluiced down the crocodile's scaly hide. His blue polyester windbreaker was zipped up tightly against the downpour. He wrung his clawed hands anxiously as he watched Osiris descend from the stormy sky.
"This is all my fault," the teen said. He stood upon the edge of the rooftop, as though tempted to hurl himself over the brink. Screams, shouts, sirens, and the blare of gunfire rose from the city beyond the palace walls. "If I had not murdered that man, I would have been able to keep these corrupted powers under control."
Sobek looked puzzled. "Do you really th-think your magic powers did this, Osiris?" The concept seemed too difficult for his simple mind to grasp. "You k-k-killed but one."
"And those around me will forever suffer because of it." Osiris envied his friend's childlike naivete. He wished that he too could be unburdened by the awful truth. "I am cursed . Kahndaq is cursed." He cast a mournful look at the unsuspecting crocodile. "You may be as well, my friend."
Fear showed in the reptile's eyes. "That would be terrible!"
WEEK 41
NANDA PARBAT.
"Pondering the insoluble?"
Tot entered the hut to find Renee contemplating the rose Isis had given her nearly four months ago. Even after all this time, the bright red blossom remained as fresh and vibrant as ever. She lifted it from its vase upon Tot's desk. The Crime Bible, and the professor's copious notes on the text, shared the desktop with the vase. Sunlight penetrated the window curtains. Incense flavored the air.
"How your flower can continue to live without food, water, or soil?" He unzipped his heavy parka and tossed his floppy hat onto a bronze idol of Ga-nesh. Bitterness tinged his voice. A scowl deepened the creases in the old man's face. "Wondering what keeps it going, maybe? Or just asking why it, like you, is still alive ... and Charlie isn't?"
Renee gently returned the rose to its vase. "I remember when Isis gave it to me." The former Gothamite looked as though she had gone native, trading her old winter gear in for a heavy cotton gi. Her long hair hung loose over her shoulders. A turquoise pendant dangled from her neck. A bracelet of bodhi beads was wrapped around her left wrist. "I think she knew Charlie was sick. I think she knew there was nothing she could do for him."
"I can't speak to that," the scientist said gruffly. "Where have you been?"
She shrugged. "I was on the mountain. With the monks." Her voice was uncharacteristically calm. A serene expression suggested that she had finally come to terms with Vic's death. Her stay in Nanda Parbat seemed to have taught her acceptance.
But, as Vic had taught her, appearances could be deceptive.
"You just walked off," Tot accused her. "We cremated Charlie's body, and you left without a word." Renee realized belatedly that Vic's mentor was feeling abandoned. "Not to me. Not to Richard."
Despite her'placid demeanor, she flinched slightly at her teacher's name. "Where is Richard?"
"At that ice cave of his," Tot muttered. "He wants you to meet him there." The professor sat down at his desk and reached for the Crime Bible. Apparently, he was done scolding her for the time being. "Now, if you'll excuse me, the rest of these Cantos ofCrippen won't translate themselves....
She left the old man to his work.
"Richard?"
Spring had finally come to the Himalayas, so that a flood of golden sunlight followed Renee into the cavern. Glancing around, she spotted her own face reflected in the polished planes of the cave walls, but saw no sign of the enigmatic Richard Dragon. "Professor Rodor said you were expecting me?"
"Two weeks eating rice with the monks of Rama Kushna, a change of clothes, and you think that does it?" His voice echoed off the cavern walls, mocking her. "Or is this just a case of fake it 'til you make it?"
One minute, she couldn't see him at all. The next, he seemed to be all around her, his bearded face scrutinizing her from dozens of icy reflections. It took Renee a moment to locate the real Richard amidst the countless mirror images. Without warning, he threw a wu shu style punch at her head, which she barely managed to block in time.
Whoa! she thought. What's with the sneak attack—and the sarcasm?
Instinctively, she directed a counterpunch at his gut. "Charlie wanted me to carry on for him." Richard easily deflected the blow, even as she tried to justify her time at the temple. She snapped a side-kick at him. "That's what I'm trying to do."
"No," Richard said, seeing straight through her bullshit. "You're doing what you always do when faced with loss and guilt." His voice was as calm as Renee wished she could be. "You've just changed the props you use." He caught her kick, trapping her right leg. "Agi instead of a bottle. A kick instead of a kiss." 1
Renee bounced awkwardly upon one leg. "I'm not denying my grief," she said, more defensively than she had defended. Raw emotion shredded her voice as her Zen facade began to crack. Her flushed face scrunched up.
"Just because you're feeling it, doesn't mean you've accepted it." He executed a smooth takedown, sweeping her left leg out from beneath her. Her butt slammed against the ice-cold floor. "You want to honor Sage? Then stop running from yourself."
Before she could stop him, he took her head in both hands and forced her to turn her gaze on her own myriad reflections. Instead of acceptance, the distorted faces in the ice displayed a dozen different blends of confusion, anger, hurt, and humiliation.
Renee hated the sight of them.
"Deal with who you are," he challenged her. "So you can see who you can be."
But all Renee saw was a miserable, unhappy woman who had let herself down, along with everyone she had ever cared about. Vic, Cris, Daria, Kate. She had failed them all when it mattered, as a partner, a friend, or a lover. Vic had spent his last precious months on earth trying to save her from herself, and in the end she hadn't even been able to pay him back. She had let him die right on the doorstep of what might have been his deliverance. Why had he picked her anyway? What a waste ...
Staring bleakly at the reflections, she tried to look herself in the eye. But the prospect of seeing her own guilt and worthlessness gazing back at her was more than she could bear.
"I can't!"
She twisted her head free of Richard's grasp, and violently jerked her gaze away from the damning self-portraits. Reeling, she clambered to her feet and staggered out of the cavern, leaving Richard and his reflections behind her. The looming peaks of the Himalayas dwarfed her own petty problems, but not enough to ease her anguish. No longer hidden beneath a pose of philosophical detachment, her naked pain lay exposed beneath the vast blue sky.
"Deal with who you are," Richard had said.
Please, no, she thought plaintively. Anything but that!
The monks at the temple said that Rama Kushna was the living voice of all that is and was not, the perfect countenance smiling upon us all forever. Renee wasn't sure exactly what that meant, but she kind of liked the idea of God being a woman. Certainly, the temple's gardens were like a little slice of heaven. Tucked in amidst the glacial plains and snowcapped peaks just beyond Nanda Parbat, the open sanctuary overflowed with lush fruit-bearing trees, fragrant orchids, and birdsong. Monks in saffron robes tended to the gardens, treading along stone pathways worn smooth by the passage of countless pilgrims. Prayer wheels, mounted on wooden spindles along the paths, were spun by the monks as they went about their duties. With every rotation, the rolled-up sutras inside the embossed bronze cylinders were symbolically recited. Liba-fions of yak butter or oil were offered at various small shrines throughout the gardens. Renee gave one of the wheels a spin as she entered the garden.
Why the hell not ? she thoiight. When in Rome .. .
She had come to the temple to be alone with her thoughts, but found another woman sitting on a stone bench beneath a flowering bamboo tree. Blue jeans and a flannel shirt identified her as another Westerner, perhaps a mountain hiker between youth hostels. Lustrous black hair cascaded down the slender back
of the woman, who seemed to have a knack for attracting the local wildlife. An orange-bellied squirrel nestled upon her lap, while a bevy of native birds serenaded her. An iridescent pheasant perched on her shoulder, while plump white snowcocks clustered on the bench beside her, or milled about at her feet. It was like a scene out of a Disney movie.
Who's this.? Renee thought, intrigued. Snow White?
The birds and squirrels fled at her approach, showing themselves to be excellent judges of character as far as Renee was concerned. She sat down at the opposite end of the bench and shrugged off her down jacket. Having abandoned her whole Zenner-than-thou act, she had traded in the gi and Tibetan jewelry for her usual winter attire. She reached automatically for her cigarettes, then remembered that she didn't smoke anymore. Bummer.
Lost in thought, the other woman did not immediately acknowledge Renee's arrival. They sat in silence for several moments before Renee finally tried to get a conversation going. "So," she asked lightly, "what's a nice girl like you doing in a spiritual retreat like this?"
The stranger turned toward Renee, who was caught off guard by the woman's breathtaking beauty. Sapphire eyes shined from a face that put the Venus de Milo to shame. A smile lifted the corners of her luscious lips, which didn't look the slightest bit chapped despite the arduous trek she must have taken to get here. Her porcelain skin was smooth and unblemished. Goddamn, Renee thought, trying not to stare. Her heart belonged to Kate these days, but you'd have to be dead not to notice the stranger's striking good looks. The exquisite face also looked somewhat familiar. Maybe some sort of international swpermodel?
"I'm waiting for a friend," the woman volunteered, speaking English with just a trace of a Greek accent. "We're supposed to be meeting here, but I'm afraid I'm early." Her melodious voice was captivating. "Bruce's going to help me ... start a new life, I suppose you might say."
Renee caught a note of regret in the woman's tone. "The old one not working out?"
"Not exactly as I hoped, no." She sighed ruefully. Sorrow filled her eyes as she gazed out into the distance, as if looking back the way she had come. "I killed a man."
The shocking admission caught Renee by surprise. Maybe not a model then. "You have a choice?"
"I tell myself I didn't."
I know how that goes, Renee thought. She remembered the would-be suicide bomber in Kahndaq, the brainwashed girl whose life she had been forced to end. There were still times when she felt certain that there had to have been another way to stop the girl, if she had just been faster, or smarter, or less of a failure. But what that way was she had no idea.
"And yourself?" the woman asked her. "Why are you here?"
"I was . .." Her throat tightened. "I was trying to save my friend's life." She dropped her head into her hands. "He had cancer."
The woman nodded solemnly. "You have my sympathies," she said with what sounded like genuine compassion.
"Yeah," Renee muttered. A few months ago, she realized, she probably would have hit on this gorgeous stranger, hoping to drown her sorrows in some tawdry fling or one-night stand. But not anymore. Vic would have wanted her to work through her grief, not numb herself with meaningless sex and booze. And she owed him too much to cheapen his sacrifice like that, even if that left her torn apart by emotions she didn't know what to do with.
She jumped to her feet, unable to sit still any longer. "I get so angry," she confessed. "I just want to scream, you know? I'm here in Nanda Parbat for heaven's sake, and still Charlie dies of cancer." She threw up her hands in frustration. "All these miracles in our world, all the monsters and magic, and he dies of cancer anyway." She looked to the other woman for answers. "I mean, can you explain that to me? Does that make any kind of sense to you?"
"No," the stranger replied. She rose to her feet to join Renee upon the pathway. "But it was not my experience, so I cannot interpret it for you."
Renee clenched her fists, wanting to hit something. "There's nothing to interpret," she said bitterly. There's no point to any of this.
"Certainly there is," the woman contradicted her. Several inches taller than Renee, with an athletic figure of Amazonian proportions, she gazed down at Renee with such profound wisdom and mercy that Renee was instantly reminded of Isis at her most goddess-like. "You are looking for reason, and you are looking for it without. But the only reason you will find will be the reason you bring to the experience ... and that can only come from looking within." .
Renee swallowed hard. The depth of the other woman's gaze was almost more than she could take; it was as though Rama Kushna herself was staring into her soul. "It's not that I don't want to look," she insisted. "I'm dying to look. But I'm afraid of what I'll see there."
"Then that is all the more reason to do it." The woman gently laid her hands upon Renee's shoulders. The sleeves of her flannel shirt rode up, revealing a pair of bulletproof silver bracelets upon the stranger's wrists. Renee gasped in, well, wonder as she suddenly realized who the other woman was, and where she knew her face from. "It's a simple question," Diana said. "Which will have the greater rule over you, your fear ... or your curiosity?"
WEEK 42
NANDA PARBAT.
Renee sat in the lotus position upon the floor of the ice cave. She had the frozen grotto to herself, just as she had for at least a week now. Far from the entrance, deep within the stygian darkness in the lower depths of the cavern, it was easy to lose track of the passage of time. Hunger gnawed at her; she hadn't eaten or slept since entering the cavern days ago. Her muscles were stiff from holding the same position for So long. Her uncombed hair felt matted and greasy. The unwashed gi made her skin itch. She felt woozy, light-headed.
And yet she kept on sitting.
An unlit candle rested on the floor in front of her, next to a pack of wooden matches. She reached for the matches, then hesitated. Am I ready for this?
Even after a week of fasting and meditating, she still hadn't worked up the nerve to face her reflections once more. Sitting alone in total darkness, slowly wasting away, seemed preferable to looking deeply into her own eyes in search of ... what? Proof that she really was the weak, worthless human being she had always suspected she was? .
" Which will have the greater rule over you ? " Wonder Woman had asked. “Your fear ... or your curiosity?"
Renee knew which one Vic would choose.
Taking a deep breath, she struck a match against the side of the box. The sudden flare of ignition sounded like a rocket going off in the subterranean hush. Renee leaned forward to light the candle, then hastily closed her eyes as the glow of the candle lit up the grotto. The smell of burning yak oil filled her nostrils.
She kept her eyes squeezed tightly shut. Her heart was pounding wildly. No more stalling, she scolded herself. Here goes nothing. She took a moment to steady her heart and breathing. This is for you, Charlie.
Her eyes opened.
As before, it was like being in the middle of a funhouse hall of mirrors. The flickering light'of the candle cast dozens of reflections onto the polished walls of ice. Multiple facets captured her from every conceivable angle. Swallowing hard, Renee stared at the reflections, expecting to see her own anxious face looking back at her.
But there were no faces to be seen. The myriad reflections showed her oily black hair and soiled garments, but where her eyes, nose, and mouth should have been, there was only a blank expanse of flesh, just like the mask Vic used to wear.
What the hell? Renee thought. Her eyes bugged out. Her jaw dropped. Am I hallucinating? What's this supposed to mean?
She had come looking for herself, but had found only ... the Question.
WEEK 43
SHIRUTA.
Black Adam's long-dead family was carved in stone upon the wall of the imposing shrine. Few visited this lonely wing of the royal palace. No courtiers or servants observed Osiris and Sobek as they approached the large sculpted figures. Towering stone pillars flanked the intricate bas-relief. Subdued lighting revealed a de
ep crack running down the middle of the monument.
"How long do you think this journey is going to be?" Sobek asked. A halfeaten loaf of bread and a dusty jar of olives were cradled in the crocodile's arms. "I don't th-think I brought enough snacks."
"You and your bottomless stomach!" Osiris snapped. "Stop thinking about food all the time." Didn't Sobek understand how serious this was? "All of the meat in Kahndaq has spoiled. The water has made the people sick. Our land is dying, and you're worrying about snacks!"
Sobek flinched at his friend's harsh words. He looked guiltily at the food in his arms. "I'm s-sorry," he stammered.
Osiris instantly regretted lashing out at the poor reptile. "I'm sorry too. I didn't mean to yell at you, Sobek." He stared glumly at his own hands, which still felt like they were coated in the Persuader's blood. "This is all my fault. I've cursed Kahndaq because of what I've done."
He had spent weeks trying to figure out a way to make things right again. Now his guilt had brought him to the shrine before him. I need to purify myself on a pilgrimage. He ran his finger along the crack splitting the monument in two. "My sister said Adam opened a doorway to the Rock of Eternity through these statues. Look, you can see the crack."
But how was he to open it now?
"Maybe you just need to say the magic w-word?" Sobek suggested.
Osiris considered the notion. "Like what?"
"Sh-sh—" The crocodile seemed hesitant to say the word aloud, but Osiris guessed what he meant.
"Shazam?"
No lightning flashed, but a sudden rumbling greeted the name of the ancient wizard, who had first bestowed Black Adam's powers upon him. Just as Osiris had hoped, the looming statues split down the middle, revealing the hidden stairway beyond. Worn stone steps seemed to lead down into the very bowels of the earth.