Reignited

  Reignited

  BY COLLEEN HOUCK

  ALSO BY COLLEEN HOUCK

  TIGER’S SAGA

  Tiger’s Promise

  Tiger’s Curse

  Tiger’s Quest

  Tiger’s Voyage

  Tiger’s Destiny

  REAWAKENED SERIES

  Reawakened

  Recreated

  Reignited

  Reunited

  REIGNITED

  All Rights Reserved © 2017 by Colleen Houck

  eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage or retrieval system, without the written permission of the publisher.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Published by Colleen Houck

  Love’s Pretense

  The Dove Song

  An Ancient Egyptian Love Poem

  An Ancient Egyptian Love Poem

  With sickness faint and weary

  I hear thy voice, O turtle dove-

  All day in bed I'll lie;

  The dawn is all aglow-

  My friends will gather near me

  Weary am I with love, with love,

  And she'll with them come nigh.

  Oh, whither shall I go?

  She'll put to shame the doctors

  Not so, O beauteous bird above,

  Who'll ponder over me,

  Is joy to be denied....

  For she alone, my loved one,

  For I have found my dear, my love;

  Knows well my malady.

  And I am by his side.

  *From Egyptian Myths And Legend

  By Donald Mackenzie

  We wander forth, and hand in hand

  Through flowery ways we go-

  I am the fairest in the land,

  For he has called me so.

  Dedication

  For Becca, Sam, and Josh Who taught me to love Doctors

  Contents

  Prologue: Ripening

  Chapter 1: Budding

  Chapter 2: Cultivating

  Chapter 3: Blooming

  Chapter 4: Grafting

  Chapter 5: Husbandry

  Chapter 6: Threshing

  Chapter 7: Uprooted

  Chapter 8: Transplanted

  Epilogue: Yield

  Prologue: Entombed

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Prologue

  Ripening

  Seth crouched down to peer at the face of the mortal woman trembling at his feet. It had been an accident—a wonderful, terrible, incredible accident. Euphoria and horror twisted together inside him, until he was almost physically sick from the emotional turmoil of what he’d done. From what he . . . was.

  Centuries had passed with no sign that Seth was ever going to come into his powers. Osiris—tall and handsome with his chiseled jaw and quick smile, everyone’s favorite hero—had been flaunting his abilities since he was a strapping boy. Isis—Seth’s beautiful, glorious, and chilling sister—was every inch the untouchable and perfect goddess. If he’d had even a fraction of her ability to cast spells and manipulate magic, he’d thank the stars and be happy with his lot.

  Even Nephthys, as unassuming as her gifts were, had developed a talent as a seer and an ability to discern the messages of the stars long before he had come into his own.

  It wasn’t fair.

  Seth stood and clenched his fists as he thought of it, ignoring the writhing woman prostrating herself before him.

  He was the last born. The youngest. It wasn’t his fault that the Waters of Chaos had been nearly emptied by the time he was born, and yet he was the one who had paid the price. While his siblings learned to hone their burgeoning skills and spent their evenings showing off to one another, all he could do was watch them enviously, chest tight and jaw clenched, wondering when, or even if, he would ever find his place in the universe.

  During his awkward adolescence—which lasted aeons longer for gods than for mortals, since the spans of their lives were more consistent with those of stars—he’d practice fixedly for days and weeks at a time, never taking sustenance or resting until he’d crumple with exhaustion and fall into the valley of his father’s chest looking for respite. He’d hoped that his father would at least acknowledge his efforts, perhaps take note of the prickly sweat that ran down the back of his neck and his overheated red face. But the god of the earth cared not for such things and, in fact, viewed his youngest son’s painful lack of progress as less than godlike.

  When Seth complained and begged audience, his father, Geb, answered with merely a rumble of the ground, if he bothered to answer at all. Gradually, Seth stopped seeking out his guiding hand.

  He next turned his eyes to the sky and cried out to his mother who looked down upon him, the clouds of her hair stirring. There was nothing she could do to comfort him except offer her tears. Salty drops would fall and soon he’d be sitting in a pool of her sorrow. No. Geb and Nut would not help him.

  Once, he’d turned to his grandfather for advice. But Shu, the god of the wind, just told him to quit his whining and get on with being the god he was. If he couldn’t manage that, then he should try to act more like his older brother, Osiris. And to top off his remarks, Shu sent a stiff gale to dry young Seth’s tears but the hot wind buffeted him, driving him halfway across the Earth before he managed to muster enough strength to resist the powerful push of his elder.

  It wasn’t long before he stopped seeking their aid altogether. Over time Seth withdrew from associating with his elders and his siblings and ignored their summons to participate in the drawn-out meetings of the newly organized Ennead.

  What did he care for the plight of mortals or of the governing of the cosmos? What had the cosmos ever done for him? Besides, he couldn’t stand to see the pitying looks from his sisters, or, worse, see their giddy expressions of delight whenever Osiris graced the halls of Heliopolis with his presence.

  In fact, the only reason he’d visited Heliopolis at all in the last century was to watch Isis. Seth had spent many long nights reclining in the leafy branches of the tree that brushed against her window. Often, she was away, attending to one duty or another that the ruler of all the gods, Amun-Ra, assigned her. He’d leave the tree disappointed, with an uncomfortable crick in his neck that a god of any reputation shouldn’t be at all bothered by. But, every once in a while, his patience was rewarded and he would get an unobstructed view of the ice princess as she prepared to retire for the evening.

  At first, he’d spied on her to try to learn her secrets, memorize the spells she’d create and practice before bed. But he soon found that no matter how meticulous he was, or how precise he’d been in copying the spell, he just could not wield magic the same way she did. Even so, he was still drawn to her and found himself outside her window more often than not.

  Isis was cold, lovely, and formidable. Seth considered her the most gifted of the siblings. As he sat uncomfortably, night after night, he imagined that he could snatch away her abilities and take them into himself. He would twist her magic and use it to suit his own purposes. Then no one would look at him with sympathy or wince at seeing his bumbling attempts with manipulating matter. Not if he had the gifts of Isis at his disposal.

  In the beginning, Seth envisioned taking her power. Then, as time went on and he grew into manh
ood, his fantasies twisted. He fed his admittedly unwholesome and unnatural obsession with Isis to the point of ignoring his own physical needs. Starving was painful but it wouldn’t kill him and the others either didn’t care about or didn’t notice the dark smudges beneath his eyes and the lankness of his hair. And no one paid him any attention at all whenever Osiris was around anyway.

  As he perched in the shadows of his tree, watching her brush her hair, he’d summon a tiny wind—something so unnoticeable as to be considered a non-talent and yet it still took a great deal of his energy—to lift the perfume from her delicate neck. It raced toward his hand where he’d capture it, holding it close to his face until it dissipated hours later.

  Then, giving in to the object he kept hidden during the day, Seth would pull out the feather he’d taken from her bath and stroke it, his thumb running over the soft plume in a slow loop as he thought of the one it belonged to. When Isis finally slept, he’d make himself as comfortable as he could and keep silent vigil, allowing his secret, dark thoughts to take shape and embed their vacillating roots in his mind.

  If he’d been more confident, he would have done something about his feelings years ago. He would have confronted Isis. Shown her that Osiris was not worth the attention she gave him. That true desire was much more than a winning smile and broad shoulders.

  No.

  True desire was the trembling he felt in his limbs when he looked at her, the need to absorb her completely into himself. To fashion a world where only the two of them existed, one where they could step into their proper places as king and queen of the cosmos and have all others kneel at their feet and worship them. That’s what he envisioned when he looked at Isis. There was no one else worthy of him.

  Especially now that he had finally come into his own power. Despite all the exhaustion, anxiety, and fear that had crippled him because it had taken so long to appear, Seth realized that it had all been worth it. For his ability was the most terrible and fantastic of all—he had the power to unmake.

  It was evidenced in the form of the writhing woman on the ground. Seth had been annoyed by her frantic wailing. He had set fire to the woman’s field of wheat, mostly because he knew Osiris had visited within the last year, haranguing everyone about the need to cultivate and grow their own food.

  Seeing the ripe evidence of Osiris’s sad, pathetic, and, in his opinion, pointless little abilities with plants had angered him, so he decided to burn the field. Perhaps it was out of pettiness, perhaps jealousy. Either way, it would hurt Amun-Ra’s favorite golden boy. Also it pleased him to watch all the fleeing animals as they attempted to escape the smoke and flame. Seth liked knowing these sub-creatures feared him and his power. And using his newfound ability to thwart his brother’s made him feel right, superior.

  Then the woman appeared. She ran from her cottage and fell at Seth’s feet, wrapping her thick arms around his legs. Her round face was red and splotchy as she begged him for mercy, asking the “powerful god” to save her husband who was gleaning in the field.

  When Seth ignored her and shoved her roughly aside, she exclaimed that he must be the one she’d heard about, the “impotent god.” She raised her voice to the sky, keening and crying out to Osiris for help.

  That a mortal would dare call him impotent left Seth shocked and, ironically, immobile. But that quickly turned to a fury, which surged through his frame. Any compassion he might have felt for the woman before, as unlikely as it was, melted in the heat of his rage. Seth normally felt next to nothing for the mortal creatures that Amun-Ra and the others always harped on.

  With the name of Osiris still on her lips, Seth seized the woman by the throat, lifted her off the ground, and shook her. “You will cease your caterwauling immediately.” When she didn’t, he threw her on the ground and shouted, “By the gods, I wish the heavens would erase your face from my view!”

  Her cries were suddenly cut off and all that could be heard was the bleating of the animals and the crackling of the wheat as it burned. The woman had crumpled to her hands and knees. Her whole body shook but no sound came from her.

  Sticking the toe of his boot beneath her bulky form, he thrust her aside and her body rolled away. Seth gasped. Where there had once been a hooked nose, thin pale lips, and eyes that sat too close to one another, he now saw a blank oval. Skin as smooth as a reddening peach stretched where a face should have been.

  The woman’s hands reached up, clawing, gouging the skin where the mouth and nose once were. But as if a switch had been flipped, her body jolted and then she slumped over, dead. Without a mouth and nose, there was no way for her to take in a breath. Seth lifted his head, shocked and fascinated and sick. Had he done this?

  Just to make sure, he lifted his hand and stretched it over the woman’s foot, willing it to disappear.

  Suddenly the foot, including the muddy boot she wore on it, evaporated in thin air, leaving only a stump at the end of her leg. In quick succession, Seth unmade a snake that slithered from the burning stumps of wheat. Several mice disappeared next. Then, he ran, unmaking animals both completely and in parts.

  He caused rocks and trees to vanish with the wave of his hand. And, when he came upon the dying form of the burnt farmer, the once husband of the now dead and defaced woman, Seth unmade him bit by tiny bit. He decided to leave only the man’s torso and head so he knew exactly how much he could take away from a mortal while still extending their pain-filled life.

  Now he was ready. Now he was whole. His power had finally arrived. And it was mightier than he’d ever hoped it would be.

  Nothing.

  No one.

  Could challenge him now.

  The world, the cosmos, was ready to be plucked and his first stop was the beauty that haunted him.

  Isis was a ripe fruit dangling from a low limb—succulent, juicy, and begging to be consumed. And Seth had never been hungrier.

  Chapter 1

  Budding

  A horn sounded, its echo filling the hills and valleys surrounding Heliopolis. Isis stood quickly, causing the stool where she’d been sitting at the spinning wheel to topple behind her. The bundle of gray wool in her lap tumbled to the dust. The mortal women surrounding the goddess laughed and clucked their tongues good-naturedly as they picked up the soft mass and shook the dirt from it.

  “Go. Go,” they admonished, shooing her away. “You’ll come back when you can. In the meanwhile, we’ll take turns practicing what you’ve taught us.”

  Isis gave them a graceful smile and though she attempted to act godlike in her demeanor as she left the village, nodding at the townspeople and patting the heads of the children who always flocked to her, her mind was elsewhere. As a result, her responses were more curt and distracted than usual. The moment she passed the stone wall signifying the border of the town, she shook out her powerful wings and took to the sky.

  Energy surged through her body as the golden rays of the sun beat down upon her wings, filling her frame with heat and warmth to the point where she could feel the sting of a blush in her cheeks as well. She laid her hands against them and wondered at the excitement she felt simply because he had returned. Her shadow far below flit over the hills and valleys she passed, rising and falling like the tempestuous emotions that seized her mind.

  She rose up through the sky, the blue giving way to the black, and she heard the fleeting whispers of the stars welcoming her home. As she passed through the barrier that separated the mortal world from the realm of the gods, speeding through space like a fiery and brilliant comet, the darkness pressed itself upon her. It captured her form, moving her into another dimension. It was quiet in that space and during the transition she gave herself over to her reflections.

  It was . . . unfitting, her burgeoning feelings. Isis knew it, but she couldn’t help it. And yet, to stifle the way her heart beat with joy at the very thought of him, also felt wrong. Still, Isis had tried to be a proper goddess and ignore her budding affection during the long year of separation
when he’d left, taking an assignment elsewhere. But now that he’d returned, she felt the stirring in her heart again and knew that she’d been unsuccessful in uprooting him wholly.

  Though Isis had always enjoyed her work—teaching mortals weaving, how to grind corn, and to use plants and herbs to heal—that something else, someone else in her life had, of late, occupied her thoughts to the point of distraction. She often caught herself daydreaming or staring at the faraway horizon wondering where he was at that moment and if he was thinking of her as she was thinking of him.

  At night, when Isis would slip into her bed, her heavy wings wrapped around her body, she’d catch herself wishing the soft feathers were his arms instead. He’d often done so when they were younger. He’d pin her wings against her body as they played tag, never hurting her, but preventing her from escape until she acknowledged that he’d well and truly caught her. Recently, she’d found herself envisioning the chase once more, but this time, she wanted him to catch her. The thought of what might happen next often left her breathless and sleep would evade her.

  Mortal men often fell at her feet, begging for her attention and pledging their undying devotion. Some even dared to reach out and touch her sensitive wings. But at one look from her, they’d drop their hands in fear.

  Though a relationship with a mortal was technically allowed, Isis had never found any mortal man who was interesting enough to consider. Besides, the life span of a mortal was like the blink of an eye to a goddess. If she allowed herself to care for a mortal man, she’d watch him grow old and suffer from disease or even the elements.

  Isis thought it cruel to tie herself to a mortal. She’d seen Seth toy with the emotions of humans, and it never ended well for them. The lucky ones would pine for him as he disappeared for years at a time. And the unlucky . . . well . . . she didn’t want to think about that. Seth had a . . . temper. No. Isis would always be what she was—a goddess. And the love of a goddess was enough to drive a mortal man mad.