The Year of the Great Seventh (18 page)

I held my hair up with my hand in a ponytail as the room was boiling. Sweat was running down my neck.

“Are you hot? Do you want a soda?” Nate shouted in my ear, as the music was incredibly loud.

I nodded and he vanished immediately. This was probably his plan to escape the dance floor.

The music kept playing and I continued to dance to song after song. The humid air of the room was suffocating, and maybe it was time to go to the other party. I surveyed the bar, but I couldn’t spot Nate.

The DJ spun another song that I really liked and I just kept on dancing, waiting for Nate to come back.

There were a few guys next to me, slightly intoxicated, and one of them lost his balance, pushing me to one side. I stepped back and bumped into the girl behind me. As I tried to maintain my balance, I felt a cold hand on my neck. Then I saw all the pieces of my necklace ricocheting on the floor. The round stones disappeared under people’s feet.

I squatted down, but it was too dark. I couldn’t see anything. I touched the floor with my hands, hoping I could sense the round stones, but no luck. The stones had probably rolled away under people’s feet. Suddenly I heard the sound of two glasses smashing with a loud shatter. I turned around to spot Nate right in front of me—paralyzed.

The room was packed with people, but there was no one in between Nate and me. His arms were reaching out as if the glasses that were now smashed into small pieces were still in his hands. Nate was gazing at me.

Nate slowly moved his hands to his sides and balled them into fists. His knuckles were white from the struggle. He was pressing them tight.

My throat contracted. I could easily identify the Nate in front of me. The same Nate I’d seen at Ethan’s party and at the theater parking lot.

The DJ was blasting the music and the people surrounding us were dancing, unaware of what was happening to him. There was something different about him this time. His eyes were wide open—not one blink. His expression was blank like a wax sculpture. His skin seemed a purplish color and his eyes appeared to be turning milkier, almost white.

I couldn’t tear my gaze away from him. Common sense was telling me I was in danger, that I had to run away, but there was something stopping me from moving.

“Nate, what’s happening?” The words echoed eerily back at me.

I didn’t know what to do. Sooner or later, people were going to realize something was happening to him. I had to get him out of here.

We stood across from each other, Nate totally paralyzed, his hands still balled into fists.

“Nate!” I repeated, trying to bring him back from his trance.

Something was telling me I had to leave. It was too obvious to ignore. Somehow I knew time was running out. It was as if someone was whispering into my ear,
Sophie, if you want to live past tonight, you have to leave now. There’s no time to save Nate.

Nate’s face seemed to be swelling, and some strange grayish veins spread through his cheeks and temples. Ignoring my warning thoughts, I slowly moved my hand to touch Nate’s. Maybe I could make him come back to his senses. The moment my hand made contact with his arm, in a brisk move, Nate clenched my wrist.

“Nate, you’re hurting me,” I called out, trying to free myself from him, but he didn’t seem to hear me. His eyes were frozen open.

He clenched his hand harder and harder, until I began feeling his fingers carving through my skin. He was pressing so hard I thought my bones were going to snap. How could anyone be that strong?

I twisted in agony, hoping he would let go. The pain was so intense that the room began closing in on me. The music and the people’s roaring seemed to go mute. We seemed to be the central characters of a play. The movement, the noise, was all part of the background. It was as if our world came to a halt and we were center stage under the spotlights.

Nate suddenly let go of me.

He began gasping really hard. His shoulders heaved with each breath. It was as if he battled with himself.

“Walk. Away. Slowly. Don’t look back,” he managed to say, looking right through me. His arms still stretched at his sides, his hands balled into fists.

For some strange reason, I clearly heard his voice over the loud music. Inexplicably, his words seemed only audible to me.

I knew there was something wrong and I had to leave this place as soon as possible, but all I could do was stare into Nate’s milky eyes. I forced myself to look down and step away.

“
Ammateus
.”

This time I heard it perfectly clear. I could feel Nate’s penetrating eyes still on my back.

I squeezed through the people to get out of there, but there was something inside me, urging me desperately to peer back at Nate. I just needed to look back at him one last time, even though I knew it was going to be a fatal mistake. I could still picture him standing still in the middle of the dancing floor, staring at me.

Suddenly, the massive speakers started producing a sharp beep that penetrated into my brain. It was so high it made me feel as if my brain was going to burst. I plugged my ears and saw everyone else around me doing the same. I had no idea how, but I knew Nate was doing it.

As I managed to reach the door, I heard an explosion. The high-pitched noise had probably cracked the tanks’ glass. Then I saw the water from the fish tanks propelling onto the street; people running and crawling from the bar were totally drenched and in tears.

I didn’t understanding why, but I knew I had to start running if I wanted to live past tonight. Without looking back to check whether Nate had made it out before the explosion, I started running as fast as I could down Sunset Boulevard.

I couldn’t understand what happened in there. Nate’s frightening face was engraved in the back of my mind. For some reason, I knew I was still in danger, but I couldn’t help wondering what happened to Nate in there. Had he managed to get out?

Police sirens resonated inside my head. I could see people turning to look at me as I ran past them. But they were only a blur of faces.

When I got to the corner of Sweetzer Avenue, I stopped to catch my breath, and that’s when it hit me. I began blubbering inconsolably. I became aware of how close it had been this time.

There was a taxi waiting for the light to change. The taxi driver rolled down the window. “Do you need a ride home, kid?”

I nodded in between tears, unable to utter a word, and jumped into the cab.

“What happened in there? What happened in there?” I kept repeating to myself. I couldn’t understand. I couldn’t believe it, even though I witnessed it with my own eyes.

I could see the ambulances heading toward Sunset Boulevard, making me wonder whether something terrible happened to Nate.

Fumbling through the stuff inside my purse, I grabbed my cell and dialed Nate’s number. Closing my eyes and holding my breath, I wished with all my will that he pick up the phone. My heart hammered inside my chest with each ring. One after the other. Eternal silence filled the other end of the line. And finally, after the seventh ring, it went to his voicemail. This was a tragedy. I feared the worst might have happened.

CHAPTER X

I COULDN’T SLEEP. I called Nate time after time, but there was no answer. I kept getting up, going back to bed, and turning the light on and back off again. I couldn’t bear it. I couldn’t just go to sleep without knowing if he was all right. At some point in the night, my desperation got to such a point that I considered waking Mom and Dad and asking them for help. I quickly gave up on that idea, though. They were going to ask questions that I wouldn’t be able to answer, and that would make the situation even more complicated.

I considered calling his place and telling his parents what happened. But given the fragile relationship he had with them, I was confident he would never turn to them for help.

By dawn, my nerves and swinging emotions had succumbed to exhaustion. I didn’t know how long I slept, but by the time I woke up the sun was high in the sky. As soon as I opened my eyes, I reached for my cell phone, still on my pillow, and dialed his number again. A recorded voice said, “Sorry, this mailbox is full. Please try again later.”

This was a tragedy. It meant Nate hadn’t had access to his cell phone since the previous night. I immediately knew something had happened to him. I needed to talk to him. I had to come up with a plan to get in touch, or at least know where he was.

I glanced at my reflection in the mirror in shock. I looked like a mad woman in my striped pajama pants, T-shirt, and the smudged makeup from the previous night. My hair was frizzy from the pillow, and I had panda eyes from mascara.

My wrist was really sore where Nate grabbed me, and to make matters worse, it was all bruised. It was proof that it hadn’t been a dream.

My room was back to its natural mess. It hadn’t taken long to go full circle. My walk-in closet was again chaos. The sheets of my bed were crumpled into a ball.

I ran downstairs to find Mom and Dad eating in the kitchen. The news was blasting in the background.

“Hi, Sophie!” Mom chanted. She could get on my nerves with her never-ending enthusiasm.

“Dad, can I use your office?” I said, pacing through the kitchen, ignoring Mom’s babbling.

“Sure,” Dad mumbled with his mouth half-full. He was eating lunch in front of the TV.

I went into his office, closing the door behind me. I looked around at his cluttered shelves, feeling overwhelmed. How was I going to find anything here? It would take me a decade to go through all his books.

Thankfully I remembered Dad had a classification chart of the books in his library. But first I had to find the chart. It was like looking for a needle in a haystack.

I went over to his desk and shuffled through the papers and books. I happened to remember that the organizational chart was on a yellowish piece of paper. I went through the desk drawers pulling all the papers out, and finally I spotted it at the bottom of one of them.

I had no time to waste. Placing the chart on the desk, I ran my finger down the page. It was organized alphabetically, and right at the bottom of the first column there it was: Ancient Egypt. There were around fifty books in this category. I didn’t really know what I was searching for, but I decided to go for Cleopatra, as it was my only lead.

There were three books that contained the word Cleopatra in the title, but there was one that caught my eye:
Cleopatra’s Untold Secrets
. It was in shelf BA, book 37. That was the bottom shelf behind the door.

Dashing over to the corner of the office, I squatted down next to the shelf. Tipping my head sideways, I ran my finger along the row of books. It was the last one, a really old, blue book.

I squeezed the book out from the jammed shelf and then, one by one, each book collided with the next like a domino. The last book on the row hit the side wall.

Even though it was the middle of the day, Dad’s office didn’t get much light. I placed the book on Dad’s desk and turned on the lamp. I went straight to the glossary at the back. Holding my breath, I skimmed through the pages. I had only one lead and if that word wasn’t there, this was a dead end.

“Bingo!” I muttered to myself.

The glossary cited the word
Ammateus
, and next to it a roman numeral. How was I supposed to know what page that was? The last time I’d seen any roman numerals was in fifth grade.

If I remembered correctly, C was 100 and L was 50. XXX had to be 30, and VI 6. It was page 186.

I energetically turned page after page, almost tearing them off. I skimmed through the first paragraphs, as I had seen the information before. It explained how Egyptians worshiped the setting sun
Tum
the rising sun
Ra
, the pyramids, and the obelisks. The following paragraphs commented on Cleopatra’s unexplained obsession with the obelisks and her fear of the night spirits. Next to it, there was a list of names by which these spirits had been known. The first name on the list was
Ammateus
. The book continued by describing Cleopatra’s belief that these obelisks, and the Syenite stone from which they were carved, would protect her from the night spirits.

The book explained that she was specifically captivated by two obelisks that were erected in the Egyptian city of Heliopolis in 1450 BC, which she transported through the desert to be reerected in Alexandria. They guarded the doors of the Caesareum, a temple that she built for Mark Antony. This is where, much later, Cleopatra and Mark Antony committed suicide the night before Cleopatra’s birthday. They’d evidently learned that Augustus and his army were on their way to Alexandria.

The book went on to describe how she was specifically attached to these two obelisks, but the reason was enigmatic since they were made from the exact same stone as others. Ironically, one of these obelisks now rested in New York’s Central Park and the other one in London.

Cleopatra was the pioneer of a trend that would continue through to modern times. Through the centuries, most of the Egyptian obelisks had been displaced from their original locations and traveled thousands of miles to be reerected in Western cities such as New York, London, Paris, and Rome.