Chapter 8: Shawn
“My name is Imhotep. I was an angel in the Egyptian Host.” Imhotep sat back down on the ground as if to meditate.
“Host?” I asked.
“I’m sorry—a host is a group of angels. Angels belong to divisions and are given guardianship over areas. My host, we were all expelled, like the original Greek host.”
“Imhotep? As in the magician from Ancient Egyptian mythology? The villain from The Mummy movies?” Nas asked, a grin tugging at his face. Imhotep regarded him with a puzzled expression.
“Yes, but I do not know of these movies you speak of. Did they make me a villain? I suppose that makes sense.”
“Wait, so you’re telling us you and the Egyptian gods were real? Like Horus, Sekhmet, and Khonsu?”
“Yes, you are well-informed, joker of the group,” Imhotep replied.
Nas smirked and shrugged. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“The Egyptian gods?” I asked, and he turned his attention to me.
“Yes. Most of the myths you know are based on real events.”
“I don’t believe in other gods,” Aaliyah interjected.
“Yes, you do. In a sense. There are two ways to perceive it. First is figurative—humans do this all the time. When they become fanatics for a celebrity, a craze, anything that takes their worship away from the Lord. The second is literal. God expelled hosts of angels from heaven. You know them as gods in Greek, Norse, and other mythologies. I’m sure you’ve heard of the Sons of God—the ones who slept with the daughters of men. These groups became gods in different regions. Pharaoh and the Egyptians began to worship some of us as gods. God gave Moses the Ten Commandments after freeing the slaves. Some of us got caught up in the praise and settled there. I suspect that’s why God made that commandment, though I can’t be sure.”
“So what you’re saying,” I said, observing him carefully, “is that we’re right not to believe in you as a god. That you pretended to be one. Were you kicked out of heaven for disobeying God? For being a false god?”
“No, not all of us. Some stayed in God’s favor by leaving after Moses freed the slaves. Those who didn’t accept their banishment from heaven. I was not part of that. In fact, many of us in the Egyptian Host returned to God’s service.”
Imhotep motioned for us to sit, and we did. I knelt in a judo-style posture. I thought Nas would sit next to Imhotep, but Aaliyah gave him a look that said, I’ve got this. Imhotep explained more about hosts and how angels have physiology akin to what scientists call plasma. He described halos as manifestations of willpower, which could also become weapons. Each weapon held a unique power—a signature of the angel that typically inspired their epithet. An angel’s personality determined the color of their halo.
“Using a halo is a matter of training. For you, it seems the training is there, but not the willpower. If what you told me is true, your powers only activated because you were in mortal danger.”
“I didn’t know what else to think about when she had us trapped,” Omarion said. “I thought about last night and saw an image of an ibis. I don’t even know what an ibis is.”
Imhotep studied Omarion closely. “An ibis? You said it appeared when you thought about the night we were attacked?”
Omarion recounted how his life flashed before his eyes when demons attacked and instinct took over. Just before his staff and halo appeared, he saw an ibis. Imhotep asked everyone to recall their memories before their halos appeared. Aaliyah mentioned lions. Nas saw a coyote. I recounted how, just before my halo manifested, I saw a falcon and the moon.
“You all saw images—specific animals—and pyramids,” Imhotep mused. “It sounds like reincarnation, but reincarnation doesn’t exist. For now, ride those memories—the ones of the animals. They may be the key to your abilities.”
“No,” I said sharply. Everyone turned to me, expecting an explanation. Normally, I’d have provided a logical reason laced with humor. But this wasn’t normal. I didn’t trust Imhotep. He was a fallen angel, after all. How could we trust someone God expelled from His army?
Nas backed me up. “Shawn is right. You’re a fallen angel. How do we know we can trust you?”
Imhotep stepped back and observed us all. Closing his eyes, his green halo appeared, manifesting into a massive broadsword half his height. From his back sprouted wings—green and dulled. When he opened his eyes, they glowed with the same green hue.
“If you don’t want to trust me, I won’t force you. But our lives depend on escaping. Shawn, you need to overcome your mistrust. We’re all in the same situation.”
Everyone looked at me. Slowly, one by one, they started to focus. Nas’s green halo appeared first, materializing his power axe. Soon, Aaliyah, Jasmine, and Omarion followed. Reluctantly, I closed my eyes and focused on the images from before: the moon, Egypt, falcons. Warmth spread through my body as my rage calmed, and my red halo manifested. A broadsword materialized in my hand.
“Good,” Imhotep said. “You’ve learned to summon your halos. Now let’s ensure you can do it at will.”
We practiced summoning and dismissing our halos until Imhotep was satisfied. Then he explained how each weapon reflected their personalities and powers.
Jasmine’s twin daggers emitted a green, whip-like energy as she spun them in demonstration. Aaliyah raised her bow, channeling the precision and strength it required. Omarion wielded his staff with calculated focus. Nas grinned as he hefted his axe, a fierce determination in his eyes. I gripped my broadsword tightly, its weight grounding me in the moment.
“At least we can defend ourselves now,” Jasmine said.
“That doesn’t guarantee escape,” Aaliyah replied. “Lilith put us here to train. She’ll test us soon. This is all a trap.”
“Even so, Jasmine’s right. We need to escape,” Omarion said. “Having weapons is a start. Now we need a plan.”
Nas interjected. “Blindside her and fight our way out.”
“Subdue her,” I countered, keeping my voice calm. “Interrogate her for intel. At the very least, gain more information.”
Imhotep stroked his beard. “Taking her hostage could work.”
“No,” Jasmine protested. “First, we pray for guidance.”
“Praying every five minutes won’t solve this,” Nas retorted. “We need action. Better to die fighting than as lab rats.”
I took a deep breath. My own demons gnawed at me—the anger, the doubt. Jasmine wasn’t wrong to want to pray. Nas wasn’t wrong to demand action. But I needed to protect my friends.
“Wait,” Nas said. “Our weapons—maybe one of us has a way to gather intel?”
Everyone looked at Imhotep. He nodded. “Let’s find out.”
