#disasterlibrarian
@ricochetoconnell cont. from here
“Mmm,” Evy agreed. “A warm bath and a nice, long nap never sounded better.” Honestly, Rick’s chest was as good a napping place as any bed; between the safety and comfort of his arms and the exhaustion that had finally begun to take its toll after their escape from the crumbling temple, she was on the verge of nodding off herself. It was curiosity that kept her awake. He’d saved her life, stayed by her side when he could have left, proven himself to be both a good man and an amazing kisser despite her first impressions, yet she still knew very little about him. “What will you do next? I hope this won’t be the last we see of you.”
“After a kiss like that? Good luck getting rid of me,” Rick said, teasing, though if he’d had any strength left in his muscles, he would have gone weak with relief. She wanted him around. At least so far.
He lifted his eyes to the horizon again, his expression turning thoughtful. “I’m not sure what I’ll do. I didn’t exactly have many plans before you saved my a-uh, butt from being hanged,” he lifted one shoulder in a shrug, trying not to grimace as his muscles protested even that small movement. “I guess I’ll find some work in Cairo, take it from there. What about you?” He asked, doing his best to keep his tone conversational, to not sound like his plans were hinging on hers.
“No,” Evy murmured, watching the shallow rise and fall of her husband’s chest with her heart in her throat. Dropping her mask of composure, she repeated the word over and over, louder and more forcefully each time. “No, no, no, no!” Over the past decade, her experiences had forced her to accept many things she’d once thought impossible, but this simply could not be happening. She’d seen Rick cheat death time and time again since the day they met; there was no way a measly dart could kill him when hanging, gunfire, and even armies of the undead had all failed. And while the Egyptian gods could be cruel, surely they wouldn’t be so cruel as to grant her a second chance at life only to take him away from her.
On second thought, however, it seemed naive to think the gods would grant a favor to a mortal without a price. Perhaps Rick’s life was that price. Rage bubbled up inside her at the thought, causing her hand to shake as it stroked his hair. She hadn’t asked to be resurrected; if the bastards needed a life to restore their precious ma’at, she would surrender her own in an instant. She wanted to scream for them to take her, that she would do anything they wished if they would only put strength back into his limbs and air into his lungs. But if the gods heard her thoughts, they paid no heed. The movement of his chest was barely noticeable now, his skin a ghastly pale hue, save for a slight bluish tinge that had formed on his lips.
Words failing her, Evy continued to cradle his head in her lap and offer comfort in the only way she could. An eternity seemed to pass in which she sat stroking his face and hair, wondering whether each shaky breath would be his last. At one point, she was certain his breathing had ceased, but then he spoke. She didn’t need to hear the rest of his words to know what he wanted her to tell their son. Fighting the flood of emotions constricting her throat, she nodded and promised, “I’ll tell him,” before bending over to press her lips to his forehead. “I love you.” And then he was gone, and the sobs she’d been suppressing finally broke free.
Deep within the Duat, The Devourer unfurled. Torchlight glinted off of scales and rippled through a dark mane of hair. Slits of black dilated against green-gold irises. A deep, rumbling breath echoed as the scent of an offering wafted through flared nostrils. Ammit stretched her ancient bones, and began her pursuit.
Oh, it had been solong. Even at the height of her power, millennia ago, there had been so few mortals brave enough to worship her. So few mortals foolish enough to step foot in her temple.
It had been so long since she’d had a soulto feast on—not the rotten, discarded hearts that Anpu found unworthy. Those were bitter, soured by brutality and deceit and malice. This soul smelled sweet; ripe with love and longing.
As she slunk closer to the still-forming Ba, however, another smell became apparent. The stench of a jackal. It should have faded the further she had moved from the Scales—Anpu had no place here, in this temple built for her—but as she crept closer to the fresh soul, the smell only became stronger. Marked. The first soul captured for her in thousands of years, and it was that of Anpu’s champion. A low growl rumbled in her chest, and she felt the Ba flinch away from her in the dark, instinctual.
For a moment she considered feasting anyway. Anpu would find another, and this was her offering, and it smelled so good…
Before she could close her jaws around the Ba, a sound caught her attention. Sobbing. Pleading. A mortal in agony, somewhere nearby. Ammit changed direction, curious. Maybe there would be a new, unmarked soul soon. Either way, the Ba would be trapped here for her, if she decided to come back for it. And it would taste all the sweeter once it had fully taken its non-corporeal form.
Corporeal form, Ammitthought as she found the source of the sorrow—a mortal woman bent over the lifeless body of an all-too-mortal man, crying out to the gods to restore him. Ammit could restore him… in a way. Breathe life back into his lungs, even if it wasn’t his own. He was an empty vessel—a large one, and strong, and adept at removing souls from their bodies. With such a vessel she could rip Ba fresh from their husks. She could truly feast.
She grinned her crocodile grin, and took him.
Neurons sparked to life, slowly, painfully—she would have to get used to pain—opening themselves to her, allowing her glimpses of the man who had once resided here. Then she was gasping for ragged breaths, filling the once-empty lungs of this mortal, flushing out the poison that had once coursed through his veins.
“Evelyn,” the vessel croaked, the ghost of a memory that had died on his lips, and Ammit opened once-unseeing eyes to stare up at the woman crying above her.
Rick laughed, taken back by the eagerness in her question. But then, if he had learned anything about Evelyn Carnahan, it’s that she knew what she wanted—and that she didn’t let propriety stand in her way. “There’s plenty where that came from.” He returned her grin. “As many as you’d like.”
His smile only widened at her giggle. “Lady, in the past couple weeks I’ve seen you waltz into Cairo Prison like you own the place, survive a handful of gunfights, and face down a three-thousand-year-old walking, talking corpse. I don’t think there’s anything delicate about you.” He tightened his arm around her waist, sorely tempted to give her one of those kisses right then. From the moment they had met she had proven wrong every expectation he’d first had of her—and he really hoped he’d done the same, considering the way he had acted when they first met. “Thank you for saving my ass. Especially since I uh…wasn’t exactly at my best that day.”
He grunted slightly when a lurch from the camel knocked her against his ribs—Yep, pretty sure a couple of those are broken—and covered it the best he could by clearing his throat. He would be in pain either way, he didn’t want her to move away from where she was curled against him. “Makes sense, I can only imagine what a mess that mob made of the place.”
“I look forward to it.” That kiss had been perfect, soft and tender yet exciting and passionate. Evy had been nervous at first, but the moment their lips touched, she’d been swept up in a wave of euphoria unlike any she’d ever felt. She was sure Rick had felt it, too, based on the way he’d laughed with her and touched his forehead to hers when they pulled apart.
“I’d hardy say I waltzed in like I owned the place,” she said with another giggle. “And I couldn’t have survived those gunfights or faced Imhotep without you.” But a warmth filled her chest at his words; it felt good to know he thought so highly of her. “You’re welcome.” She laid a hand on his arm and gave it a gentle squeeze, not wanting him to feel too guilty for his behavior when they first met. “I don’t think many people would have been at their best in your situation.” At the time, she’d felt only disgust towards him, but now, she realized how horribly he must have been treated in prison and looked back on his actions with sympathy. “Besides, I’ve seen you at your best now, and it’s quite wonderful,” she added, looking up at him with a warm smile.
She arched an eyebrow when he cleared his throat, but didn’t question it, assuming he was just thirsty. “Er…yes, but that’s not what I was referring to. There’s also a mess in the library that was, unfortunately, my fault.”
“Me too,” Rick agreed, his gaze flicking briefly to the curve of her lips. It hadn’t just been a line, that kiss—that assurance, that celebration that they were alive—had meant more to him than any treasure they might have found in that cursed place
“Yeah well, I seem to remember a couple bullets I wouldn’t have survived without you, either. And I wouldn’t'a stood a chance against that animated corpse.” Rick had been ready to tuck tail and run, actually—at least until the problem had forced its way back into his life. It was Evelyn who had been determined to fix it. It was Evelyn who had been smart enough to fix it. He grinned at her, admiration shining in his eyes. “Turns out we make a pretty good team.”
He raised his eyebrows, wondering just how big of a mess she could have made to warrant such sheepishness on her part. “Speaking of being a good team, I could help with the cleanup.” He grunted quietly when she bounced into him again, and grimaced slightly. “You’ll just have to give me a couple days to rest up first.”
“After a kiss like that? Good luck getting rid of me,” Rick said, teasing, though if he’d had any strength left in his muscles, he would have gone weak with relief. She wanted him around. At least so far.
He lifted his eyes to the horizon again, his expression turning thoughtful. “I’m not sure what I’ll do. I didn’t exactly have many plans before you saved my a-uh, butt from being hanged,” he lifted one shoulder in a shrug, trying not to grimace as his muscles protested even that small movement. “I guess I’ll find some work in Cairo, take it from there. What about you?” He asked, doing his best to keep his tone conversational, to not sound like his plans were hinging on hers.
“Oh?” Evy grinned up at him, her heart rejoicing to hear that he’d enjoyed their kiss as much as she had. “So you’re saying there’s more where that came from?”
A giggle erupted from her throat when he corrected himself mid-sentence. “You can swear. I’m not so delicate that foul language makes me clutch my pearls.” Her smile faded as the full weight of his statement sank in. He’d had no plans before she saved him – and she’d done so only because he happened to know the way to Hamunaptra. For a moment, she felt slightly ill at the memory of him dangling from the end of that rope while she bartered with the Warden, his initial brutish behavior toward her notwithstanding. But she cast the thought away and snuggled deeper into his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against her ear reminding her that he was solid and warm and alive. “I, um,” she began, her tone sheepish, “I have a lot of work waiting for me at the museum. The library needs renovations.”
Rick laughed, taken back by the eagerness in her question. But then, if he had learned anything about Evelyn Carnahan, it’s that she knew what she wanted—and that she didn’t let propriety stand in her way. “There’s plenty where that came from.” He returned her grin. “As many as you’d like.”
His smile only widened at her giggle. “Lady, in the past couple weeks I’ve seen you waltz into Cairo Prison like you own the place, survive a handful of gunfights, and face down a three-thousand-year-old walking, talking corpse. I don’t think there’s anything delicate about you.” He tightened his arm around her waist, sorely tempted to give her one of those kisses right then. From the moment they had met she had proven wrong every expectation he’d first had of her—and he really hoped he’d done the same, considering the way he had acted when they first met. “Thank you for saving my ass. Especially since I uh…wasn’t exactly at my best that day.”
He grunted slightly when a lurch from the camel knocked her against his ribs—Yep, pretty sure a couple of those are broken—and covered it the best he could by clearing his throat. He would be in pain either way, he didn’t want her to move away from where she was curled against him. “Makes sense, I can only imagine what a mess that mob made of the place.”
