Jane Unwrapped

I’ve heard the name before: Anubis. An Egyptian name. The name of a god. The god of the dead.

I want to go home.” “Impossible. You’re here now.” “But why?” “Jane Ezrael,” Anubis says, “you’re dead.

Well, it’s probably a good thing Anubis didn’t kiss me. I would have died all over again.

His lips are soft and crushing at the same time. I’m not sure what to do—is there an algorithm for kissing?

I bet if I were pharaoh, I’d have had my tomb planned and designed by the time I was ten. I've always wanted to be five steps ahead of where I am. And my mind does it right now: I picture the king on his deathbed, and Ay delivers the awful news to me, but I'm the best embalmer in Thebes thanks to Anubis, so I'm alone in a dark room, and I cut open his soft chest, and take out a heart filled with dreams and love and sadness.

Do you really think that Tutankhamen would have taken a chance on some pale girl with pretty eyes had you not been the priestess of Anubis?” “You did.” The words fall out of me. “What?” I look up at him. “You took a chance on me.” I sit up, breath heavy in my throat. “When I was nothing but a dead, lost thing.

Experiment: Live and love as much as I can, before my particles fall away to wander in stardust.

Ahhh." Anubis narrows his eyes at me. “I’ve given you inspiration. Now you’re thinking about bringing the lightbulb to ancient Egypt. It would be a hit––all those dark tombs.” You. I was thinking about you. His eyebrows rise. “Huh? Me?” Fluorine uranium carbon potassium. I said that out loud. "I mean," I stutter, "I was thinking about…unimolecular reactions.

She wants me. And I am terrified, knowing how much I want her back.

I could have killed you,” I snarl. “You think you can become a god. You always meddle and change and create. No, that is not the way. What is shall always be. What is known shall always stand.” “Then you’ve never been in a laboratory!

He stares blankly, then leaves the room like a ghost—never truly here. I gaze at the doorway. I do not know if he means for me to follow him. It’s a choice then. And I realize that this is no choice at all, but rather a sentence. By love or by evil, somehow I am bound to Tutankhamen. It’s not a choice any more if I will follow him, but a question of what I will do when I catch him.

From beneath the folds of his robes, he reveals a small steel dagger. “You have tempted fate so many times already and still yield to it. Time for history to rewrite itself. Time for Tutankhamen to have a new ending.” Aten holds the hilt out to me. I stare at the dagger. The hilt is bronze, carved with sun discs that glow when they catch the sun. “What do you want me to do with that?” Aten smiles a white, gaping grin. “Kill Tutankhamen and carve out his heart.

And whose heart do you want me to steal?” The words escape me in a whisper. A small smile pricks Aten’s lips. “King Tutankhamen.