Khonshu's Bitch

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A loud yell erupts from Steven's mouth as he awakes, the sound cutting through the quiet morning air like a crescent dart. He jolts up, a terrified expression clear on his face, instinctively bracing for impact.

The neighbours are probably awake too, judging by how loud he had yelled. His eyes dart around, still adjusting to the bright light. A second ago he was in a van getting shot at by armed men in the middle of nowhere with only a demanding and, dare he say, annoying voice for company. Steven is still dazed by everything, his thoughts running haywire. He tries to process what in the world just happened to him.

It must have been a dream. Yeah. Just a dream. Nothing more, just a silly little dream.

He repeats it to himself several times in his head, letting it sink in. He laughs bitterly and falls back onto the bed. 

Oh God, I'm such a mess.

-- 

Things weren't so happy and peaceful on your end though. 

You hissed, dabbing alcohol on one of the many cuts that littered your body. Khonshu sat at the bay window, looking down at the traffic-filled streets below. He turned back to look at you, and even though those eye sockets were empty, you could feel his gaze boring into you. 

You met his gaze for a second, sending him a questioning look, and went back to what you were doing, summoning the box of band-aids to your hand with a flick of your wrist. After several minutes, you look up again, realising Khonshu’s gaze still rests on you. You stare blankly at him.

        " What? “ You ask. 

He didn’t answer. There was an unreadable emotion on Khonshu’s face. Well, emotions were always unreadable when it came to Khonshu,he had a skull for a face. But this time it seemed even more impossible to guess what the moon god was thinking. 

After a few minutes of silence, he finally spoke.

        " That was stupid of you to do. "

        “ …Huh? “

You ask again, more confused than ever. 

        " When we were at the village. You tried to save Marc. "

Oh, right. You had dived in front of the driver’s side window where Steven was just as he had blacked out. You tried to stop the logs from potentially knocking the van over the edge of the cliff. You succeeded. 

To some extent. Instead, you were the one who took the impact. Holding those logs in place took up so much effort, you didn’t notice the last one barrelling down the hill, heading straight for you. 

Long story short, you were caught off guard. By a single stupid log. It had hit you with so much impact that it pushed the van to the edge of the road upon its impact, the tires screeching against the asphalt. Luckily, you had stopped the logs long enough for whoever was fronting to get out of the car. The last thing you recalled seeing was who you thought was Marc running to help you. 

You awoke hours later, back in your flat, with a sticky-note on your forehead, and a melted ice pack on your bedside table.

‘ Sorry. - Marc ‘ was written hastily on the note.

The note was now lazily stuck on the headboard of your bed, sitting alongside the handful you had accumulated over the missions you had gone on with Marc. From times where you got severely hurt, even for your circumstances, or when you needed help patching wounds. You would always find a sticky-note plastered on your forehead the morning after, with things like ‘Take care of yourself.’ or ‘Don’t be so stupid next time.’ scribbled on them. It was his way of caring for you. You could never bear to throw them away, so you let the little squares of pink, blue and green occupy the corner of your headboard, resorting to tape when the adhesive gave up in an attempt to feel like you could control the laws of paper. You couldn’t and it made you livid.

The sound of someone clearing their throat snapped you out of your daze. You realised you hadn’t replied to Khonshu, and were just spacing out. Oops. You blinked yourself back to reality, apologising before you continued speaking.

        " Well, if I hadn't done that, Marc would've gotten smashed to bits by the logs. " 

Khonshu let out what sounded like a sarcastic laugh, but in reality, you knew he was going to admonish you the same way the squares of coloured paper stuck on your headboard did.

        " Marc has the healing armor. You do not. " 

You let out a sigh.  

        " Still, I can't just let him get hurt like that, can I? The healing doesn't mean he doesn't feel any of the injuries he gets. "

        " The bones he has broken, the injuries he has suffered. Those I still can mend. I cannot do the same for you. "

You didn't have the energy to continue bickering with him. You stand up, checking the clock. It was late afternoon. Fuck. How long were you out? Did Marc carry you all the way home? Or did Khonshu bring you home? Nevermind. Well, at least you had a nice day off. It was far too late to report for work. You didn’t give a shit about what Donna had to say.

You fall back onto the bed. Everything else could wait a little longer. What could possibly happen during your short nap? 

        " I'll be more careful next time, then. " You reassure the moon god smarmily.

--

Steven confidently rips the blue tape off of his door, seeing it hadn’t been disturbed and sighing happily, rolling it up into a ball. He tosses it into the bin. It misses, but who cares. He moves about his room, enjoying his seemingly normal morning. 

        " How are we doin', Gus, you sleep all right? " 

He asks cheerfully, amidst the sound of the documentary playing. He continues watching the documentary, the spoon from his cereal bowl in his hand. He thinks to himself, 

        " I wonder what fishies dream about…" 

He muses over the question, lost in thought, but something nagged at him from the back of his mind. He pauses, gaze resting on Gus’s tank again. The orange goldfish swam peacefully, living in its own world, but… 

Something seemed off. Looking back at the orange-hued fish again, he saw something he never believed was possible. 

Gus had two fins. 

--

You yawn loudly, getting up with a groan. Checking the time, you grumble to yourself. 9 p.m. Fuck. You contemplate going back to sleep, but someone with a bird skull for a head wouldn't be happy. 

        " I was wondering if you would wake up. Get up, dumbass. " 

Yep. You were right. Time to begin your 'night shift'. 

Most nights with Khonshu were spent learning new things about the Ennead, like how meetings were held, the purposes of picking an avatar, stuff like that. 

Most nights, that is. On rare occasions the lessons would turn into stories. Ones he experienced firsthand with his previous avatars, short tales he heard from other gods, or even stories about himself. How Osiris became the God of the Underworld, Sekhmet's creation, stuff like that. These tales were written down in history books for the human eye, but they were always...exaggerated. Understandable for those who had probably never even seen a god in their life.

Tonight was one of those nights. Khonshu was telling you of the era when Harrow served as his avatar instead of Marc. You remembered those times. Heck, you even saw when Harrow was unwillingly removed from his position as the fist of Khonshu. You were listening intently, both legs resting on his lap as he spoke. You had always found his voice quite soothing. Something about it always made his stories all the more captivating. 

--

Steven pulled the tiny flip phone and key out of the hole in his wall. His confusion only grew. Who put this there? Who's phone was this? Perhaps if he turned it on, he'd be able to contact the owner. Maybe they knew what was going on, so he tried to turn it on. 

He feels a slight sense of triumph as the dinky little chime plays upon the phone’s starting up screen. The little light on the phone starts flashing like a madman with incoming messages. 

        " There we are...Alright. "

He mutters to himself, looking through the call history. 

A hundred missed calls from…Layla, Layla, Layla again, Duchamp, Layla again, Layla, and who now? Did he read that correctly? He blinks, adjusting his glasses before reading it again. 

Who the hell was named that? 

Was that name ‘Khonshu’s Bitch?’ whatever that meant. Khonshu was the Egyptian god of the moon, and gods didn’t exist, as far as he knew. So what the absolute fuck?

He decided to call the so called ‘bitch of khonshu’ and question them mildly.

-- 

         " Mhm. Then what happened? " 

         " That was shortly before I- " 

The ringing of your phone startled the both of you. Khonshu simply kept quiet and watched as you rushed to answer it. ‘ Marcochondria, powerhouse of the cell ‘ showed on the phone. Huh. You answered it after some hesitation. 

        " Hello? I found this phone in my flat, and uh, it says here your number is saved under the name…'Khonshu's Bitch'? A-And I was wondering if…" 

You nearly choked upon hearing the name. That was what he saved your number as? You were going to beat the absolute shit out of Marc later, but hey, if he had saved your real name, your cover would've been blown immediately, so…bonus?

Steven found his phone. And with it, probably the locker key too. 

        " Hello…? " He asks again. 

You hang up out of panic.

        " So, the worm found out. Marc's getting sloppy. " 

You turn around to see Khonshu walking towards you. You put down the phone, starting to pace around the flat. 

        " This isn't good. If he saw my number, he's probably seen hers too. Might even call her next. And then find out about- "

You say, but when you looked up to ask Khonshu for a solution, he was already gone. You bite your cheek. Steven probably wasn’t going to sleep peacefully tonight.

–

        " Steven. "

Someone was calling his name. Or was he hearing things?

         " Steven. "

There it was again. He surveys his surroundings. He was alone, or so he thought.

        “ Hello? “ 

The voice called his name once more. 

        " You need to stop. "

        “ Who said that? “

Steven asked, his own voice resounding through the flat. 

        " You're gonna get yourself in trouble. "

Steven walked toward where he thought was the source of the mysterious voice.

        “ Oh, no, no, no, mate. Someone’s having a laugh. “

The voice seemed to be coming from the toilet. Was someone there? He places his hand on the edge of the partition, expecting to find a stranger, a burglar, or something worse in his home. He raises the phone in his hand instinctively, ready to swing at whoever or whatever was in his toilet. 

       “ Oh God, oh God… “ 

He pulls. Nothing. He sighs in relief.

Nothing but his reflection in the mirror.

Nothing but his reflection that was shaking his head. 

Steven squints at the mirror again. He reached for the light, yanking on the chain. He could’ve sworn he saw his reflection staring right back at him. The lights flickered. He took deep breaths, turning around. Thoughts were running wild in his head. His heart beat a mile a minute. He could feel the sweat running down his forehead. 

      " Steven. "

He froze. The voice sounded angrier than ever, demanding his attention. He swore his heartbeat increased tenfold.

      " Stop. Looking. " 

The lights flickered again. 

Then the ground started shaking. Books start falling off shelves, lights are swaying. London didn’t have earthquakes, did it? Steven makes a beeline for the door, fumbling with the lock. It finally opens and Steven dashes out of his flat, leaving the door wide open. He sprints full speed down the hallway, the phone from earlier still in his hand. 

Getting to the ground floor was the only thing he could think about. The lift doors open and he scrambles inside, hastily pressing the button several times. The doors of the lift drag themselves painfully slowly towards each other. 

C'mon, go already! How old is this lift anyway, fifty?! 

He glances at the dark corridor, and his blood runs cold as literal ice. He'd heard people use the expression and thought it rather dull because that just wasn’t how it worked. He felt dumb because that was indeed how it worked and he sent a silent apology to whomever was listening about that, they’d understand right? Standing at the end of the corridor as a silhouette that looked nothing like a person. Just as this night couldn’t get any more unsettling and terrifying, it started limping towards him. It wielded a staff, the thudding of it adding to the horror of it all. Steven took a couple of steps backwards, only for his back to hit the wall. He slid down, completely frozen in fear. He felt utter dread fill his being as it got closer and closer, and he had no way out. It had him cornered. 

It grabbed the door, and he let out a yell of fear, his hand flying to his mouth in terror and an effort to stifle more of his scream.

Then he realised it was an old lady and felt foolish.

Steven, still in a state of shock, remained sitting on the floor of the elevator. Breathing heavily, he got up, succeeding perfectly at giving off the impression that he was absolutely mental. Well done, you bloody wanker. He tries to make small talk.

        “ Just lost uh, my contact lens. “ 

A piss-poor excuse, but it would have to do, it might save his skin.

       “ Hope you find it! “

The elderly woman looked scared out of her skin. She was fairly pale and chuckling nervously. It was evident she looked at Steven as though he was a patient of a mental hospital and had escaped, causing a mild ruckus. Steven stood up, his nerves still frazzled from the encounter, clutching the phone to his chest like a lifeline thrown by an omniscient god. 

        “ Are we back on the fifth floor? “ 

He questions, looking to the lady who had now hastily exited the lift and was now knocking on an apartment door, the sound like a woodpecker’s incessant drilling. Anyone could see the fear written on her face. The whole scene reminiscent of a true crime murder podcast, she continued knocking on the door, almost banging on it now, her barely veiled panic growing by the second. Steven was no longer paying any attention to her, his mind was frazzled and thinking deeply. Things were getting weirder and weirder by the day. First his dream, then the missed days, Gus, and now this, just what was his life coming to?

And just as he thought it was over, it wasn’t. The looming presence from his strange dream was back. And it was closer than ever. Curiosity got the better of Steven, and he turned around to see…him.