A sign on the wall told of the ancient Egyptian belief that the deceased had to pass through the twelve gates of the Netherworld, each representing one hour of the night, each guarded by another monster or demon, some in the shape of snakes, hippopotamuses, crocodiles, and lions. Aurora knew such demons—she had met them herself, in human form. At first, after learning their secret language, after learning their secret names and barely escaping their curse, she had been trapped in such a Netherworld.

And then Keaton had been born.

An alabaster lotus-shaped wishing cup, glowing as if it held a spirit within, bid them enter. What had King Tut wished for, Aurora wondered? A long, and happy life with his half-sister and wife, Ankhesenamun? Happy, healthy children? When he fell ill, did he wish for eternal life after death?

So many things had been prepared for his journey. A wooden traveling chest. A miniature ivory game board depicting the journey through the underworld. A gilded wooden bed with lion’s feet. Tawret, the god with a hippopotamus face, and Bes, ithyphallic lion-headed guardian of newborns, had been carved into the footboard.

Aurora had not met these gods, but she would welcome them, she thought, in spite of their animalistic, phallic ferocity. For, in this world, her baby—her babies— needed all the protection they could get.

Life is a long, arduous journey. One must have guardians. Shabti.

Aurora had lost all her former guardians or left them behind in the land of forgetting. Now she was virtually alone, except for Keaton. And Jack.

A pair of large shabti, carved from wood then gilded, with eyes of volcanic obsidian, stood guard in their case, their arms crossed over their chests to hold now-missing crooks and flails. One shabti wore a headdress with a cobra uraeus and one a wig of tight curls, like small black grapes, also ornamented with a snake. They reminded Aurora of the two statues in Sky’s house.

These two guardians will be together always, Aurora thought, even though it is in the beam of prying eyes. And then she thought not of Cyrus but, again, of Ever.

She had thought that they had parted because she did not love him enough or loved him less than Cyrus. No, it was not that, she knew now. She had banished herself, so that she could emerge from the underworld a different person, a whole person with a life of her own, a woman who could care for herself and raise two children.