Hell's Gatekeeper (Chapter 3)

I sit down at the bench and watch him. I’ve never seen a human really cook before, and this is truly amazing, but also amusing. Especially because it looks like he’s not doing quite a good job. And while he does that, I decide to brush out my hair, which is dry from the fire-dust remnants.

“Here’s dinner …” Daniel puts a bowl in front of me, and I look at its contents, my hair in a half braid, strands falling into my face from my sort fringe.

It’s some form of curry with rice. I’ve never been fond of spicy food, but since Daniel went to all that trouble to cook it for me, I pick up the spoon he hands me, and smile. Before I can eat, though, Daniel clears his throat. I look up expectantly.

“Can you give me a second I’ll … I’ll just be out through here. I’ll be in … in a second,” he says.

He runs out of the room, and I take up my first spoonful. It actually tastes nice, and doesn’t burn in a harsh way, just in a nice way. I eat it all before Daniel gets back, and continue working at my hair. The braid has failed miserably, so I undo it and start plaiting it in intricate patterns Aphrodite, the Greek Goddess of love and beauty, taught me.

Daniel puts a book down on the table in front of me of a picture of my mother. I pause, mid-plait, and stare at it. I tie up the rest of my hair with a hair-lackey I have around my wrist, and focus on the picture.

“Are you Egyptian?” Daniel asks.

I nod. “Yes. Both of my parents were Egyptian. I lived along the River Nile, near the temple –”

“Of Bastet, where Queen Cleopatra of Ancient Egypt lived. And this girl here … is she you?” Daniel points to a picture of a girl around fifteen, sitting a way from my mother, a huge smile on her face, her hair hanging in limp strands over her face.

“It can’t be, that would make me one thousand years old,” I snap.

“I know … my sister told me that Heaven and Hell exists, and that there are beings that can cross over … that could mean that you’re from Heaven, and … are you my guardian angel?” Daniel asks.

I stand up angrily. “I’m not from Heaven. I never died. And no, I’m not your guardian angel. No one has a guardian angel. Odin thinks that is stupid, because there are no angels, and the Gods and Goddesses can’t look after everyone on the world. You live and then you die, the end,” I growl.

“Hang on … if you’re Egyptian, then why did you say Odin?” Daniel asks.

“Because I did,” I hiss.

“So you are from heaven?”

“No! I told you that! I never died!”

“Then why did you say Odin instead of Ra or something?”

I pause. “I can’t tell you.”

“At least tell me this: Is there such things as Heaven and Hell?” Daniel looks at me pleadingly.

After a moment’s hesitation, I nod. No point on lying if he asks straight out. And besides, his sister told him the heavens and Hell exists.

“Am I going to Hell?” Daniel then asks.

Izanami’s warning is still fresh in my mind. I shake my head and sigh. “I can’t tell you that. It’s for you to decide whether you deserve a place in the heavens or not.”

“I’m going to Hell, aren’t I?” He asks.

“I don’t know. You’ll just have to wait and see,” I say.

Daniel looks back down at the picture of my mother. I know I should look too, but I can’t look away from his face. I can see that he has strong features. Not exactly handsome, but good-looking in a way people of this day and age are. His bright red hair sits in ringlets on his head, and his crystal green eyes have little flecks of silver in them. To a normal person he looks pretty normal himself. But to me, I see sadness and a great deal of pain in his eyes, and years of living alone in the plains of his face.

“Is that you?” He asks, pointing to the girl in the picture.

I look down at her. The artist knew me well. He was very fond of me and sometimes I’d wondered if maybe he was my father. He always loved to draw me. There is even a statue in mother’s temple of me, made of all kinds of colours so that you can see, if I stood next to it, that it is me. And in this picture, I am the most detailed character. There’s no mistaking it.

“That would make me one thousand years old,” I tell him.

“Yes. But it could be you, couldn’t it?” He looks at me, his eyes sparking with hope.

“And if I told you it was … what would you say?” I ask.

He smiles. “Then I am honoured to meet you, Cleopatra the second of Egypt,” he says, almost with irony.

I blink. “How do you know …?”

“In school … when I went, I had to study a person that was unknown to the world. I’ve always loved Egypt, so when I started looking for someone, your name came up. I thought that maybe it was a later queen or something, but then, as I read further, I found out that Cleopatra the second was the first Cleopatra’s daughter, who should have taken the throne after her mother committed suicide, but … disappeared. No one knew where she’d gone, and for so many years no one could find her. Not even her body,” he explains.

“As if she’d vanished off the face of the Earth. As through she’d been taken somewhere … and never seen again … or maybe … maybe she’s a fictional character?” I finish for him. It’s a bit harsh, but I don’t want him finding out who I really am.

“She can’t be!” Daniel protests, slamming his hands on the book’s open page. “Here’s proof!”

“A painting. In case you hadn’t realised, but most ancient art is usually what the posers want themselves to look like. Take Captain James Cook, for instance. In all the paintings of him, he’s got clean, white hands. If he were the sailor he’s depicted as, his hands wouldn’t be that clean. They’d have blisters and cuts all over them, not to mention dirt and grime of all kinds,” I stand up, a frown on my face. “You can’t always rely on paintings. Sometimes, what you think is a truth, could in fact be a lie.” I spin around to walk away, and pause at the doorway. “Oh, and I said Odin because I believe in all the Gods and Goddesses, not just the Egyptian ones.”

And then I’m gone, straight up the stairs to the room I’m sleeping in. I close the door, change into some linen pants and shirt, and climb into bed. Within moments, I’m asleep.

I stay in the room all the next day, watching the sky through the window. I found some paper and pencils and just started drawing the landscape at each hour, studying the shadows. Daniel knocked on the door once, around midday, to ask if I was hungry. I was, but I told him I wasn’t.

By nightfall, I couldn’t see out the window, so I decided to go for a walk outside, down to the lake. I left a note on my bedroom door telling Daniel, and left. I took a knife from the kitchen too, before I left, just in case. I’ve been on this world for only two days, so I don’t want to take any chances. And I don’t know if I’ll be able to get back to Hell before my three weeks are up. Hades may have thought I’d try to stay as long as possible, and that Isis may call me back. I just hope the travel back isn’t as weird as it was to Earth.

The cool, night air is a blessing against my skin. And the breeze is natural, not like the stiff, cold air of Hell. I smile to myself, wrapping my arms around my body, hugging myself happily. What a lovely night to go out for a walk.

When my eyes open, I see a faint flicker of orange between the trees. I pull the knife out from my belt and creep forward; ears pricked and eyes wide, taking in every detail of my surroundings. Now that I’m actually looking, I notice how dark it really is out here.

“Who is she really?” I here Daniel asking.

“She is who she tells you she is,” a deep voice answers in anger.

Did I just hear Khonsu speak?

“That’s not telling much. All I know is her name, and that she’s Egyptian. I’m sure you all should know who she is!” Daniel growls.

“You can’t know everything,” another voice snaps. Tefnut?

Why are these Gods and Goddesses here? And talking to Daniel? But this could explain why he’s so intrigued about me, and Ancient Egypt.

“I never said I want to know everything, I just want to know who Cleopatra really is!” Daniel’s yelling now.

“With you asking so many questions of us implies you want to know everything.” Sobek. “Some things are better left unknown, child.”

Daniel sighs. He doesn’t speak for a while, and I wonder what he’s doing. I stalk forward a few more steps until I’m behind a tree on the outer edges of a large clearing. There, in the centre, is Daniel, head in hands, and around him, sitting in golden thrones, are seven Gods and Goddesses of Egypt: Khonsu, the moon God; Tefnut, the lion Goddess of fertility; Sobek, the crocodile God; Shu, the God of wind; Apophis, the God of chaos; Anuket, the Goddess of the River Nile; and Bastet, the cat Goddess.

“I just want to know if I’m going to go to Hell when I die,” Daniel sobs.

Apophis rises from his seat to address Daniel. Trust the God of chaos to be so formal.

“Child, you go where you want to go. You just have to pass the Gatekeeper’s judgement. If you tell her you want to go to the heavens, and she deems you unworthy, then you won’t go there. But if you can prove you are worthy of a place in our skies, then she shall see it,” he says, his accent that of lower Egypt, strung out in his customary drawl. He’s always been an arrogant God, purely because he literally has the world in the palm of his hand.

“The Gatekeeper?” Daniel looks up. He hasn’t heard about me before then.

“Yes,” Anuket says. “Where is the child anyway? I thought she would be at the Gates. Her absence explains why we got here so easily.”

“She’s on holiday, remember,” Bastet says, head in hands.

“How do you know the whereabouts of the Gatekeeper? You two barely talk,” Shu snaps.

“We talk more than you think, wind-head. Besides, she was born in my temple; I feel obliged to make sure she’s safe,” Bastet retorts.

I smile. Bastet has always kept me safe, right from birth. She was the first Goddess I came into contact with. No doubt she was the one who recommended me to Isis when they were looking to replace the Welcomer.

A bird spots me and is startled into flight, causing a cacophony of noise. I freeze, eyes moving to the clearing, wide and frightened. The Gods and Goddesses tense, but make no move. They pretend not to notice, but I can see Bastet clearly smiling. Daniel on the other hand is looking around, eyes wide too.

“Did you guys hear that?” He asks them.

“It was merely a cat, startling a bird,” Bastet states blandly.

“It was no cat Bastet, and you know that,” Daniel snaps.

I growl. No one speaks to Bastet like that. She is one of the highest Goddesses in the hierarchy. If anyone were to speak out against her like that, they’d be severely punished.

But to my utter surprise, Bastet just laughs. “It was a cat all right,” she says.

“You can’t label every one of your charges a cat, Bast,” Shu hisses.

“I can and I will,” Bastet retorts. “Especially the Gatekeeper.”

Daniel whirls around, his eyes lighting up. “She’s here?” He asks.

“No,” Bastet says firmly, rising from her chair.

Daniel looks over his shoulder at all the Gods and Goddesses. I can see clearly that they’ll do anything to protect me and my secret. If I let Daniel discover who I am, that will put the whole balance at risk, because he could do something stupid, and I’ll get into lots of trouble.

“She is,” he says, and starts running toward me.

“Run!” Tefnut screams, and I spin around. I sprint through the trees, letting my eyes adjust as I run. I trip over a root and go flying. I land heavily on my face, the wind knocked out of me. I quickly get up, barely breathing, and keep running. I reach the house and push open the door. I stumble up the stairs and into my room, slamming the door behind me.

I lean against the hard wood and start breathing again. I fall to the ground, lungs working furiously to get air back into them. I lean forward, my head resting between my knees. My breathing is shaky and laboured, and my throat stings. I can feel something wet travelling down my cheek, and dripping off my nose. At first, I think it’s blood, but when I wipe at my face, I realise I’m crying.

I haven’t cried in over one thousand years! Not since my mother killed herself anyway. But I have no idea why I’m crying. Could it be pain? My foot and chest hurt, but not enough to bring tears to my eyes. Maybe it’s the realisation of the risk I’m willing to put myself in to have a good time on Earth.

There is a knock at my door. I tense, head rising slowly.

“Yes?” I call, wiping at my eyes.

“Dinner will be ready in five minutes,” Daniel’s voice is muffled by the door.

“Ok … I’ll … I’ll be out … there … soon,” I stutter, my voice breaking and shuddering. I suck in a breath, and more tears stream down my face.

“Are you ok? You sound like you’re crying,” Daniel sounds concerned.

“No I … I … just … hit my … toe on … something. I’ll be … fine,” the words stumble out of my mouth pathetically.

“Ok. Well, dinner will be ready soon,” he repeats, and then walks away.

I take a deep breath and then stand up. I walk into the bathroom, closing the door behind me, and turn on the shower, starting to take off my clothes.