The museum steps grew hot beneath his boots. The sun beat down on his back, a reminder that this second-coming was punishment rather than a shot at redemption.
Despite his existence being shrouded in darkness for millennia, the heat was a warning. What he had could be taken away in a flicker of fire. Grunting, he moved beneath the shade of the bazaar entrance.
His amber eyes scanned the crowd of tourists and locals, to find his next target―the next gifted soul. Even though the heat posed as a distraction, his sights were clear. He'd already acquired one soul in a Memphis market, a boy who was pillaging the fruits of Ptah. The boy hadn't given himself up easily, and there'd been a fight worthy of the ancients, but he never lost.
All it took was a glance and a friendly smile, a few persuasive words and then he gained a new recruit to his twisted cause. He surveyed the faces of everyone that walked passed, absorbing their features for any sign of being different or any distinct features that the Great Father might have marked out as a hint for him. The most common were traditional tattoos, long black hair or an eerie grace to their movements.
He then spotted one, a young boy barely in his teens. Something in the man's gut told him that this boy would serve him well. The young boy was behind a respectable looking woman, and he obviously wasn't her son by his tatty clothing and devious look about him. The boy pinched her wallet and backed away down the alley as soon as they made eye contact.
"Which one?" a muffled voice asked from behind, disrupting his train of thought.
From the entrance, Anuka emerged with a snarl. Like Wraith, he was dressed to assimilate into the Ungifted community. Dark pants, boots and linen shirts were customary. The only distinguishing feature were the rolls of linen covering Anuka's forearms and neck. As he stepped partially into the sunlight, the bandages slowly travelled to his extremities―curling around his fingers and distorting the lower half of his face.
Anuka's raven black hair stuck out in shaggy spikes, shadowing his amber eyes. Those eyes saw with a canine intent, a lust for warm flesh. Black kohl rimmed heavily around Anuka's eyelids, enhancing his animalistic appearance.
Wraith jerked his chin in the direction where the boy had fled. He was glad that they'd chosen to hunt in the old sector of Luxor, instead of where most of the tourist revenue lay. Wraith stepped out into the open again, unafraid that prying eyes would see him and gawk at his imposing height.
Wraith concealed his tattoos by wearing a long sleeved linen button-up but succumbed to the Egyptian weather and had rolled the sleeves to his elbows. He flicked his fingers for Anuka to follow.
When Wraith's comrade didn't obey, he turned back to roll his eyes, "You did get Isfet to put an Ancient Art on you before you left the Cynopolis, yes?"
Anuka gave a one-shoulder shrug in response, ". . .I still have my doubts about his incantations. Are you sure people won't notice us?"
Anuka patted the blade strapped to his back; it was almost the size and width of him. Slices of dark grey metal were slightly visible from the cracks between the bandages that held it to Anuka's broad shoulders.
"To the Ungifted, you look like a local dressed in white linen robes. Oh, and I see Isfet has added the addition of a bright red fez," Wraith turned and began walking towards the alley.
Anuka reached up to pat his head cautiously; he found nothing but the silkiness of his black hair. Anuka couldn't see the incantation which Isfet placed on him, it made Wraith smirk slightly at Anuka's obvious discomfort.
"Fuck," Anuka growled.
Wraith rolled his eyes again and continued down the narrow alleyway. The boy was nowhere in sight, however, his distinct scent still lingered. He smelled of vanilla and earth, the scent of the potters. Wraith inhaled, it gained strength once they reached a fork in the block, they could go either left or right.
"Left," Anuka seemed sure of himself.
"Right," Wraith said without looking at his comrade.
"Thank y―?" a triumphant sneer made Anuka's visible cheek bones rise. If his mouth were exposed, Wraith guessed he would've smirked.
"No, we go right," Wraith shielded his eyes when a gust of wind kicked up sand leading down the pathway.
Both men ended up behind small mud brick buildings and sandstone housing estates. The whole block seemed to be deserted or in some sort of foreclosure by the government since every house, including the once-grand hotel, lay in ruins. Half of the terracotta tiles were smashed on the cobbled street, which soon turned into dark powder under their boots. Rust marks from the broken pipes seeped down the edges of the buildings like dried blood. The rest of the veneer was covered in forms of graffiti, eluding to the rising gang activity in the region.
There were no visible back exits to the hotel where the scent stopped. There was a backdoor but it was welded shut, the thought occurred to Wraith that it'd be easy break it open but wanted to maintain the element of surprise.
The building was held together by the green pipes that stuck out of the structure's sides while the lotus-style columns supported the porch, hanging baskets which might've once held beautiful flowers, had scrawny twigs in their place. The hotel might've been a popular inn when it'd been kept in check, but without the flow of money or interest from the public, it served as a hostel to Luxor's most poor.
Wraith reached out to climb through a panel on the lower wall, and as he did so, the top level's windows blew out with a muffled poof. The air temperature increased around the building and sweat started to collect on the nape of Wraith's neck. Glass sprinkled down around them like shimmering rain.
"Isfet must have arrived," Anuka observed, distaste evident in his tone.
"Eccentric as always," Wraith commented and stepped inside.
The interior of the hotel had been trashed before they'd arrived, a thin layer of dust collected on the toppled furniture and the curtains were ripped and burnt. Broken bits of wood and pipes scattered the floor, as if they fuelled some sort of bonfire. In the corner of the main room, a piano lay neglected on its side, a few keys lay beside it. The kitchen was empty and a few dishes were stacked on the sink.
Wraith observed the small sandal prints that lead up the staircase. Before Wraith took a step, Anuka moved in front of him as usual and ascended the stairs―it was common practice since Anuka worked under Wraith. The man didn't mind, he simply watched Anuka make his way up the first five steps before signalling that it was safe.
Anuka reached for the blade on his back. The linen bandages released their hold on the large sword on his silent command and the sword slid freely into Anuka's hands. It was gigantic, the sword looked too heavy for anyone to lift, but Anuka wielded it as if it were a stick. The metal was dark-grey and the hilt was wrapped tightly in linen to enhance the grip. At the end of the hilt was a jackals head to signify Anuka's loyalty to the jackals.
Anuka peered over his shoulder to narrow his eyes at Wraith, "I'm pining for a beheading."
The scent suddenly picked up again once both men reached the second last step.
What was once the doors and rooms of the top floor residents had become one large charred area of debris. All of the walls were disintegrated by whatever Ancient Art Isfet used. The interior of the rooms had been blown to shreds, bits of Egyptian-cotton sheets hung over what must've been melted furniture as more green pipes stuck through the roof and walls.
A man stood in the centre with his back towards Anuka and Wraith. He looked over his shoulder with a sheepish grin, his eyes gradually changed from amber to brown and then black, "Oh. . .sorry about that."
Isfet dressed exactly like Anuka in a black singlet and pants with heavy boots. A white linen bandage wound around Isfet's left leg from the tongue of his boot all the way up to his thigh. Isfet's right arm was covered in a bandage, hand and all, though he seemed to wear it like a glove with each finger poking through with availability to move freely. The black tattoos overlapped and knitted together like a mosaic up the exposed part of Isfet's neck, the same as his brothers. A few on Isfet's left arm shone bright gold before fading back to black.
A small grunt came from in front of Isfet as Wraith stepped into the calamity. He saw that it was the boy from the market. He curled up on his side with the wallet pressed tightly to his chest; his black eyes shimmered with tears as sweat dripped from his brow to the dusty floor, "P-please don't hurt me."
He squeezed his eyes tightly shut.
Wraith noted that around the boy and amongst the rubble of the room, other trinkets and things lay scattered across the floor. A few watches had melted in what was left of the bathroom vanity and a necklace curled around a piece of pipe.
Why did the Great Father send me here to save robbers?
"I'm here to help you," Wraith tried for a lopsided smile. The corners of his eyes crinkled to make the boy believe that he was genuinely safe. He watched in satisfaction as the boy relaxed his shoulders slightly.
"H-help. . .me?" he stammered, clutching the wallet tighter to his chest.
"We know how much you've struggled, this life isn't easy," Wraith struggled to project the needed emotion into his voice. "Don't worry we're not with the government."
Isfet cracked his knuckles and put on his childish persona in an attempt to build rapport, "Yeah! I'm Doctor Isfet and this is my lovely nurse Anu―?" Anuka stood behind Isfet and pressed the Blade of Duamutef to Isfet's bobbing Adams apple.
"Finish that sentence and you'll lose your fucking head," Anuka growled.
Isfet gulped as his fingers fidgeted with the black vest that was draped around his singlet. It had too many pockets to even count, in each pocket were bits of rolled up papyrus of varying sizes and ages, some seemed to be stuck to the flak jacket material itself.
"Fuck it and forget it. We're not here to hurt you," Isfet folded his arms. "You just have to come with us quietly."
"W-why do you have weapons. . .and what's with your tattoos?" he began to slink towards the far wall of the room, thinking that creating space was his safest option.
"Just a precaution," Wraith replied evenly. "Egypt is a warzone after all."
"The tattoos just make us look intimidating," Isfet chuckled nervously. "Obviously mine are better because―"
"Shut up," Wraith demanded with a hiss. "What's your name?"
"Azizi."
Wraith tried for a smile again but it turned out to appear like a frustrated twitch. He dropped onto his haunches and reached out to pat the boy's head, just to get a flinch in response, "Azizi, do you want to find a purpose and have a home for all of your. . .err. . .trinkets?"
Azizi's eyes widened, his mouth agape at Wraith's show of kindness, "Really? You mean I don't have to stay here anymore by myself?"
"Yeah, kid. Where are your parents anyway?" Anuka queried.
Azizi averted his eyes to the sweat drops at his feet, he was terrified to look at the bandaged man, "I–I don't have any. . ."
"All the more reason to come with us then!" Isfet sneered.
Azizi studied Wraith's face and took in his appearance, wondering if he should say yes to the generous offer. Wraith didn't have visible scars like the bandits that stalked the streets, and he seemed genuine with his show of gratitude. It wasn't every day that a stranger approached you in offer of sanctuary.
"If I come with you, if I. . .agree to you, will I be dobbed in to the cops for stealing this stuff?" Azizi finally huffed.
Wraith shook his head; his black hair shadowed his amber eyes, "Of course not, all I need you to do is accept my offer."
Azizi slowly nodded in compliance, and that was all Wraith needed. He struck like a cobra and grabbed Azizi by the throat. Like a rag doll, he tossed Azizi against the furthest pillar, fragmenting it. He then crouched over him and began squeezing. Wraith lifted the boy off the ground; Azizi's short legs kicked wildly as he desperately tried to reach the floor again.
"P-put me down!" the boy squeaked, trying to claw at Wraith's face.
"Isfet," Wraith grinned like a mad man as his fangs slid into view.
Behind Wraith, Isfet slapped his palms together and went completely still. There was a strange gracefulness about Isfet, not even the humid wind from outside blew any of his hair around, it was if Isfet was protected by a bubble of tranquillity. The peace that radiated off his skin was soon lost once it reached Wraith's tainted aura.
"Forbidden Art!" Isfet straightened up in the middle of the scroll. The dust from the floor washed up like a tide on the hieroglyphics before receding back, as if it were slinking back towards the shore. The hieroglyphs had disappeared, leaving the papyrus blank of its original contents.
Isfet opened his eyes, which had turned an iridescent gold. As he did so, the inscriptions appeared on Azizi's skin, making a strange searing noise like onions sizzling on hot rocks. The boy cried out and struggled even more against Wraith's tight hold. Some of the hieroglyphs shone gold as each inscription and incantation burnt painfully into his skin.
"Make it stop!" a tear dripped down Azizi's cheek, his voice unnaturally quiet.
Wraith held Azizi with his left hand and with his right, pressed an index finger to the boy's forehead, "Great Father, I take this boy's soul in order for your essence to seep through in its place. May he aid your cause and may he lend his eyes and ears to be yours in the land of the living. He shall follow under the Head Son with every command, let him join us, and let him bring your presence into this realm!"
All of the tattoos on Azizi's body radiated with a piercing heat. The tattoos had spread all over the boy's body, leaving no space of free skin apart from the palms of his hands, the soles of his feet and his face. The matching tattoos on Wraith's neck flared as he recited the last part of the spell.
"Let me take his soul to repent myself and fall back into your divine grace, oh Great Father," Wraith whispered.
Azizi's mouth seemed to unhinge itself like a snake's jaw. An image, which matched the depiction used in most funerary texts, fluttered out leaving a gold trail in the air and landed on the floor. The Ba's body was almost translucent, only ringed with a gold outline.
Wraith dropped Azizi's body, which fell like a bag of flour to the dusty floor. He bent and picked up the Ba by its feathery tail, put it in his mouth and swallowed.
Wraith coughed violently at the Ba's resistance in his stomach, "We need to. . .get back to the Cynopolis. I need to speak with the Great Father. . ."
Isfet shook his head in open disappointment, "You really need to find an elegant way to do that."
Wraith paid no attention to Isfet. He'd gotten what he wanted and now he had to complete his job and deliver the soul to the Great Father. Wraith averted his eyes to Azizi, the black tattoos were rimmed red as they settled into his skin, a permanent layer of kohl was under his eyes and flicked off at the end into a swirling pattern, "Bring the boy; we need to get out of here. . .now."
Azizi opened his eyes; for an instant, they shone bright amber, the same as the assailants. "What. . .did you to do me?" his voice was barely audible.
Wraith turned with an impassive expression, "I gave you what you wanted. Welcome to the Sons of Anubis."