Chapter 16
Layla rolls over in bed with a groan, glancing at the clock on her nightstand when someone knocks on her door. It’s only one in the morning. Layla pulls the pillow over her head to muffle the noise in hopes that it’s only her drunk neighbor mistaking her apartment for his. He usually wandered off after figuring out his keys didn’t fit.
This time, the knocking didn’t stop. There was a second round of knocks, this time a little more louder. It’s the third set of knocks, sounding slightly frantic, that has Layla climbing out of bed and grabbing the gun she kept in her nightstand. She approached the door, swinging it open and the sight that greets her nearly makes her falter.
It’s a teenager wearing some sort of white combat uniform soaked with blood. The teenager sways, unbothered by the gun Layla levels at her head. “Who are you? What do you want?” Layla demands.
“Tawaret--” The teenager slurs out. Layla is immediately on guard at the mention of her goddess. “Please-- I need Tawaret.”
“Who are you?” Layla still doesn’t have an answer. The teenager sways, leaning against the wall to keep herself upright. Layla doesn’t know how coherent she is.
“Avatar.” The teenager manages to get out. Layla isn’t sure if she’s telling her that she’s an avatar or if she knew that Layla was one. “Please, Tawaret.” She begs again.
Layla decides that she can’t be that much of a danger. She’s dripping blood onto her doormat, her hand cradled over her chest. Layla reaches out to grab a fistful of the uniform and yank her in.
The teenager tumbles when Layla lets go and just lays on the ground, her glazed eyes staring at the ceiling.
“Tawaret--” Seems to be the only thing the teenager can get out.
“Tawaret? Layla calls out quietly, peering over at the plush couch the goddess liked to appear on.
“You called?” Tawaret appears, the excited grin she wore immediately dropping when she sees the teenager. “Oh dear.”
“Do you know them?” Layla gestures to the kid slowly dying on her floor. “She knows you.”
“Yelena Belova,” Tawaret frowns, inspecting the girl. “She’s the avatar of Khonshu.”
Layla wasn’t expecting that. She turns to look at the girl. “Is it safe for me to help?” Tawaret nods so Layla spins on her heel to face the teenager. “What is it you need?”
“Protect my body,” The teenager slurs, her eyelids fluttering as she tries to keep coherent. Layla moves forward, crouching next to her and reaching out to see if she could determine where the blood was coming from. The teenager grabs her wrist with a bloodied hand to stop her.
“No--” She rasps out. “Leave it. I’ll be okay…” She’s fading fast.
“You’re not bleeding out on my floor,” Layla says. Blood will warp the wood and Layla is not losing her deposit on the apartment. She carefully hauls the teenager up into her arms and carries her over to the couch. Tawaret had moved, her gaze worried as she follows them. “My name is Layla El-Faouly, avatar of Tawaret, and I swear to protect your body.” She promised.
As soon as the words leave her lips, the teenager finally goes limp against her, and Layla cursed as she struggled under the now dead weight. She sets the teenager onto her couch and pressed two fingers against her throat. The heartbeat was weak and thready but it was there.
“How did she find me?” Layla questioned, glancing toward her patron. “How did she know?”
Tawaret gives a small sheepish smile. “I told her.” She says, waving her hand to stop the anger that Layla was going to hurl her way. “I told her it was only for emergencies, I was very clear on that!”
And yeah, Layla supposes that bleeding out is a bit of an emergency. “Where is her patron?”
The smile on Tawaret’s lips drops slightly. “I don’t know.” She sounded confused.
Layla shakes her head, pulling away from the teenager and inspecting the bloodied handprint wrapped around her wrist. “Start from the beginning. Who is she?”
“Yelena Belova, avatar of Khonshu for the past five years,” Tawaret starts and Layla already has to stop her.
“Wait, wait, wait--” She points to the unconscious teenager on her couch. “How old was she when she became his avatar?”
“Fifteen,” Tawaret replies and Layla blinks in surprise, turning her gaze to the teenager-- or what she thought was a teenager.
“You’re fucking with me. That’s a kid, that’s not a twenty-year-old,” Layla jabs a finger at the kid. “She’s still got baby fat on her cheeks!”
It’s a bit of an exaggeration, the kid is short and thin but well-muscled. Still, her face is youthful despite the various horrifying scars littering her that Layla can see follow down beneath the collar of her uniform.
“Yelena Belova died at the age of fifteen,” Tawaret continues as if Layla hadn’t yelled at her. “On the steps of Khonshu’s shrine. He offered her a second chance.”
“What is he making her do?” Layla demands, peering up at her patron. Gods and goddesses all had specific tasks assigned to their avatars. Some were as simple as converting others into following their patronage while others went to changing political power from the inside. Tawaret is quiet and Layla already hates the answer. “Well?”
“She is his warrior. She protects the travelers of the night and gets rid of those who have caused them harm,” Tawaret says softly.
“He turned her into a fucking assassin?” Layla demands, gesturing to the girl on the couch. “And you knew about it?”
“What Khonshu does with his avatar--” Tawaret starts out but Layla shakes her head.
“I thought you were supposed to be the goddess of women and children, to protect them!” Layla accused. She hits a sore spot because Tawaret draws herself up.
“That is enough, Layla,” She says firmly and Layla falls quiet. Tawaret didn’t raise her voice often but when she did then Layla knew she pushed too far. Tawaret then lets out a sigh. “I cannot save every woman and child, much to my dissatisfaction. I cannot interfere with humankind, you know that.” Tawaret reaches out to set a hand on Layla’s shoulder. “That’s why I have you, Layla. You help me save those women and children. You do what I cannot.”
Layla’s shoulders slump. “Does the fact she was a child at the start not bother you?” Layla remembers being fifteen, still awkward and gangly as she follows her father from one archeological dig site to the next. “Humans have a thing where children cannot consent to contracts made.”
Tawaret’s gaze falls onto the girl on the couch. “Would you prefer she died?”
Layla startles slightly at the inquiry. “What kind of question is that?” She demands.
“Khonshu… he is a complicated god. He is known to be unruly and distrustworthy. But, he is not malicious,” Tawaret shakes her head before looking at Layla. “He would not hurt her.”
“Is this not hurting her?” Layla gestures to the bloodied mess of what was once a pristine white uniform. “Did she always have those scars or are they new? Maybe he doesn’t lay a hand on her but she is getting hurt.”
“Layla,” Tawaret says firmly and Layla clamps her mouth shut again. “You do not understand. That is alright. Khonshu has entrusted me to look after her when dies before he resurrects her.”
Layla doesn’t know if Tawaret realizes how horrifying that sentence is. “How many times has she died?” Layla demands. She can only imagine the trauma of dying once only to come back to life. How cruel would it be to be in so much pain as you die all for it to be for nothing when you come back and know you will die again.
Tawaret doesn’t reply and Layla paces the length of her apartment in disbelief. Tawaret lets her think, disappearing until Layla called for her again.
Layla ends up sitting on the coffee table in front of the couch to watch the rise and fall of the girl’s chest to make sure that she didn’t stop breathing. She eventually grows bored of that and picks up a nearby book to read. She had been so engrossed that when the girl shifted, she jumped.
“Ngh,” Yelena groans out softly. “Khonshu--” She mumbles out. Her hand clumsily reaches up toward her chest and Layla reaches out to grab her hand before she can poke at the wound.
Layla’s hand is twisted as the girl is awake within moments of the touch. Layla comes face to face with wild eyes that grip her wrist so tight that she’ll have bruises. Layla is surprised that she isn’t doubled over from the pain when she catches a glimpse of the partially unzipped suit to see that despite all the drying blood, there was no wound that Layla had briefly seen.
Layla remembers it. It was two large puncture wounds that looked lethal but she had followed Yelena’s instructions and left it be. There’s nothing there but two pink scars of freshly healed skin. “You’re healed.” Layla can’t help but state dumbly.
Yelena blinks at her a few times in confusion. “Tawaret?” She questioned, her voice soft. She squints at Layla before she questioned hesitantly. “Lana?”
“Layla,” She corrects, pulling her wrist out of Yelena’s hold. “Glad you’re not dead.” She stands up, trying not to wince as Yelena glances around her messy apartment. “I would have cleaned up if I knew you existed and were going to bleed out on my doorstep.”
“Is Tawaret here?” Yelena glances around as if she would be able to see the big goddess within the mess of books and drawings littered around the apartment.
“She can be,” Layla folds her arms. “What happened?” She thinks she deserves some answers.
Yelena looks down at her lap, her fingers brushing over her chest and Layla is reminded that she’s covered in congealed blood that was starting to dry. Layla sighs and decides that answers can wait.
“Nevermind. Come on, I’ll give you some clothes and you can shower,” She gestures for Yelena to follow her and after a brief moment of hesitation, she does.
Layla shows Yelena the bathroom along with everything she needs before she heads to her own room to find something that the shorter girl could wear.
Layla finds a tunic that would work and heads toward the bathroom with a pair of pajama pants as well. She opens the door, intending on slipping the clothes onto the sink. She didn’t realize that Yelena wasn't in the shower yet. She was no longer in a white combat suit but rather a tank top and leggings, the suit nowhere in sight. Layla had frozen at the messy mass of scars littered along Yelena’s back and arms that she could see. And that was what wasn’t hidden by the tank top. “Uh--” She pipes up before she startled Yelena. “Here.” She sets the clothes on the counter.
Yelena doesn’t say anything but Layla leaves the bathroom anyway. She stands in the living room and calls forth her patron. “Tawaret.”
The goddess appears after a few moments and Layla opens her mouth but she doesn’t know what to say. Perhaps it’s the fact that Yelena looks like a child that bothers her more than anything. “She’s been hurt.” She decides on saying.
Tawaret sends a somber look her way. “She was part of a human trafficking ring as a child.” She says and Layla swallows down the bitter taste in her mouth. “That’s how she died.”
“I thought you said she died on Khonshu’s shrine?” Layla managed to get out.
“She did,” Tawaret inclines her head. “But that is not my story to tell.” She glances over at the bathroom where the sound of running water is heard. “You’d like her, I think.”
Layla holds up her wrist where Yelena had grabbed her before raising an eyebrow. The immediate defensive move made sense but she’d rather not be friends with someone who would stab her in the back.
While the conversation dies down, Tawaret doesn’t leave this time, walking around the living room to read the spines of the new books Layla had purchased recently.
Eventually, the shower shuts off and a few minutes later the girl exits the bathroom, her skin slightly tinged pink and flushed from the heat of the water. She looks even smaller in the slightly big tunic and Layla turns her head away.
“Is… is Tawaret here?” Yelena repeats her question from earlier. Tawaret waves at Yelena even though she cannot see it.
“She can be,” Layla repeats her answer from earlier. “I want to know what happened.”
“Layla!” Tawaret scolds but Layla ignores her, folding her arms.
“I’m… still working that out.” Yelena’s brow is furrowed with thought. “That’s why I need to talk to her.”
Layla resists the urge to sigh. “She’s here.” She confirms. She’s not thrilled at playing a game of telephone between the two but it would have to suffice for now.
“Where?” Yelena asked and Layla rolls her eyes but points to where the goddess is standing.
Yelena turns to the empty space and to Layla’s surprise, she lets out a deep bow. “Thank you for sharing with me the sanctity that is your avatar. She has saved my life tonight.” Yelena then straightens slightly. “I do have a favor to ask of you.”
“Of course,” Tawaret nods her head and Layla resists the urge to sigh because whatever Tawaret agrees is likely going to fall onto her shoulders to complete. Layla relays the answer to Yelena.
“Have you seen Khonshu?” Yelena questioned and Tawaret paused, the pleased smile falling from her face.
“Is he not with you?” Tawaret inquired and Layla passes the message on.
“I can’t get in touch with him. I tried calling for him, I prayed, he didn’t show up, not even…” Yelena looks down at her chest, raising a hand to run over where she had been impaled.
“I have not seen him,” Tawaret sounded troubled and Layla tries to keep her voice even as she tells Yelena so.
Layla swears that Yelena is a child in that moment because her head ducks down, her eyes soften and her fists clench in an attempt to keep from showing emotion. Layla likens her to a lost child, alone and frightened.
“Do you know how I can get into contact with him?” Yelena peers up at Tawaret. “He’s okay, right? I mean, I can still summon the suit--” Yelena says earnestly. “I haven’t died because he wasn’t answering and I wasn’t sure…” Yelena trailed off as if she suddenly thought of something before she turns on her foot to face Layla. Then, just like she did with Tawaret, she bowed deeply. “My apologies for showing up so late. I had nowhere else to go or anyone to guard my body while I healed. Thank you, Layla El-Faouly.”
Layla wonders just how much Khonshu had rubbed off on Yelena based on the odd phrasing. She doesn’t know if it’s because she herself is an avatar or if the kid was so deprived of human contact that she just picked up on whatever her god said. “It’s fine…” Layla isn’t quite sure how she’s supposed to respond.
“I thank you for entrusting your life with me and will trust you to do the same,” Tawaret suddenly spoke up and Layla glanced at her. Tawaret gestured toward Yelena and Layla suddenly realizes that this must be some formal thing and she was making herself look like an idiot. Tawaret had taught her a lot about Egyptian customs but she was still learning.
“I thank you for entrusting your life with me and will trust you to do the same,” Layla repeats, although she wouldn’t dare place her life into the hands of a child, even if she really was supposed to be twenty.
Yelena relaxes slightly before she clears her throat. “I was impaled by a weapon I had never seen before.” She addresses Tawaret again. Layla listens as Yelena describes a gauntlet with two golden ends sticking out that had stabbed her and injected venom into her system.
Yelena then goes on to tell Tawaret of how Khonshu disappeared in the first place. Layla can see a deeply troubled look on the usually happy goddess’s face as Yelena describes being killed in her dreams by another god, being chased by an avatar, and how she suspected that the woman who just tried to kill her was the exact avatar she was on the run from.
Tawaret faces Layla. “May I borrow your body for a second?” She asked and Layla doesn’t really feel like she can deny because this kid needed some serious help that she cannot give. Layla nods, shivering at the feeling of Tawaret taking over her body. She feels like she’s sitting in the passenger seat of the car, watching through her own eyes.
“It hasn’t been long since we last saw each other, little one,” Tawaret spoke and Yelena immediately recognized the shift in Layla’s body language.
“Not so little out here,” Yelena says, and Tawaret chuckles. “I don’t know what I have to do.”
That gets Tawaret to turn serious again. “You need to call a meeting with the Council of Gods.”
Yelena sputters. “How the fuck am I supposed to do that if I don’t even have a god?” Yelena waves her hand. “The last time I was there, they all thought Khonshu was either going to get me killed or dump me like a use--” Yelena descends into another language, ranting on and on as she starts to pace the room, getting riled up.
“Yelena,” Tawaret finally interrupts. “I will help you.”
Yelena goes silent and looks over at Tawaret. “How? I am not your avatar.”
“Layla can call a meeting for you,” Tawaret says and Layla hates being volunteered for things she didn’t want to do, especially when it meant appearing in front of what she assumes is a ton of gods.
“It’s not necessary,” Yelena looks away. “I’ll handle it myself. I don’t need to involve her.”
“Yelena, a god is missing,” Tawaret’s tone is serious and Yelena shrinks in on herself. “ Your god is missing.”
Yelena swallows hard, looking away. “He left.” Yelena says, her voice quiet.
Tawaret moves forward, cupping Yelena’s face with Layla’s hands. “There is no need to fret. We will find him and bring him home.” She promised. Yelena’s jaw clenched to keep unshed tears at bay. “He did not abandon you, Yelena.”
Yelena pulls away and reaches up to furiously scrub her face on the sleeve of the tunic to get rid of any evidence of tears in her eyes. “I know that.” She says although her tone falters, betraying her true thoughts. “I want Layla to say it though.”
“Say what?” Tawaret tilts her head to the side.
“That she will call a meeting,” Yelena says, staring into Layla’s eyes. “You volunteered her for something and I am not making her do it unless she agrees. She may deny me and I will leave in search of an answer elsewhere.”
Tawaret smiles at Yelena before she leaves Layla’s body and Layla stumbles for a moment as she regains control. Yelena glances away while Layla gets her bearings. While Yelena’s stance was guarded, Layla can see the hope in the eyes that briefly peer at her from behind a curtain of damp hair that had escaped the ponytail she wore.
God, she felt like an asshole now. “Okay.” She says, reaching up to run a hand through her hair. “I will help you.”
“Say it,” Yelena demands and while Layla isn’t sure why she has to actually say it, she does.
“I will help you call a meeting.”