Page 5 of The Secret Shape of Worship
Mina ran.
What he was running toward, he had no idea, but it didn’t matter. Alarm bells blared in his head that this was some sort of ancient booby trap, but it was either stay and be crushed or run toward whatever was ahead. Mina couldn’t imagine a worse death than being turned into a tiny human pita bread.
So Mina ran and ran, his heart exploding in his chest, pounding in his throat. Up ahead, a warm glow pooled in the center of his vision. Whether or not it represented safety, he couldn’t be sure, but it was something, and so Mina threw himself into an all-out sprint toward it. In another few seconds, the walls would be scraping at his shoulders. The glow grew larger. Mina recognized a doorway, the end of the tunnel, and a room beyond. It was safety, if only temporary. The wallsstarted to snag at the sleeves of his polo, the opening just a few hundred feet away now. A jagged edge of stone hooked the seam of his sleeve and ripped the shirt nearly in half so that it hung completely off his right shoulder. The lean meat of his arm burned as he turned sideways and threw himself into the room, a thunderous crash behind him sending dust and a shower of small rocks over his body as Mina skid across the smooth stone floor.
CHAPTER THREE
GOD
Mina gulped hungrily at the musty air. His heart slammed into his ribs as he lay there taking stock of all the burning, aching, throbbing parts of himself.
His shoulder was on fire, and he felt a sticky warmth that told him it was definitely bleeding. His knees were scuffed, and his head was cloudy, a slight knock to the ground when he’d thrown himself into the room.
Mina looked up and slowly, painfully, raised himself from the ground, taking in the room that had saved his life. It was about the size of a large living room, except for the ceiling that rose to a height beyond what the dim rope lights strung around the walls could reach. Mina scanned the room for anything that might indicate where he was or what he should do next, but it looked like nothing more than an empty chamber.
Mina froze.
At the far wall, something was different. The stone floor rose to a short platform that held what appeared to be a set of tall, wide steps. Mina squinted, still adjusting to the sparser light. As he did, he followed the stairs with his eyes until they ended at the base of a statue. The statue of a great beast on a throne.No. Not just a beast. Two long feet, angled back, black as night.Anubis.The shape of the god of the afterlife materialized from the darkness as Mina’s eyes continued to adjust. Even seated, the statue towered over his small frame.
The sculpture of Anubis matched the artistic depictions in every way—from the narrow waist up to the broad, chiseled chest and the sharp, sleek face of a jackal, to finally two red eyes made of what had to be rubies or some other precious stone. Despite its lifeless form, Mina shuddered, a spasm of fear down his back making him dizzy. He steeled himself, pulling in a deep breath, though it came back out of him ragged and trembling. He crossed the room and climbed the stairs.
Standing at the base of the throne, Mina’s head came only to the statue’s knee. He placed a hand on the stone of Anubis's leg. It was cool and smooth as glass. Whether obsidian or black marble or something else, he couldn’t tell. He ran his hand down the length of the shin. The detail was incredible. Like he could almost feel the ripple of muscle beneath the stone.
Mina closed his eyes and wondered what it would be like to stand at the foot of a real god. The real Anubis. Cold awe sprinkled goosebumps across every inch of skin. Despite all of his theology training, he’d never been able to imagine the true power of a deity. He’d sent countless prayers into the rafters of the church, into the churning blade of his bedroom fan, but he was never able to conjure an image of anything powerful enough to reach across the cosmos and hear him. But somehow now, in the presence of this lifeless thing, he thought he could.
A twitch beneath his hand. Mina jerked back and stumbled two steps down. He’d definitely felt something move under his hand. The aftershock of the earthquake? That had to be it. He walked back to the statue and placed his hand on it. Warm. Probably from where he had been touching it before. He reached up to the thigh. Also warm. He stepped right and placed hishands on the other shin. Warm. And soft. Not at all like stone. Soft like the richest velvet. Or fur.
Mina turned to ice.
He stepped back and looked at the two giant legs that now shone like the lean back of a Doberman. Muscles beneath the impossible skin tensed into thick ropes pulled tight. Mina, with dread building deep in his gut, looked up to the red eyes that no longer sparkled. They glowed, winked out for a split second, and then glowed again. Blinking. Warm air, a breath. The smell of cloves. Of wood smoke.
“Oh my god,” Mina whispered, swallowing down the sour vomit making his teeth feel gritty.
He stumbled down the steps, miraculously not tripping, and threw himself against the wall that had shut behind him, clawing at the seam, praying to the god of his childhood that had never listened before and seemed still not to hear him now. That god felt farther away than he’d ever been. Nothing in the wall would budge. Mina might as well have been trying to pull out a stone from the Great Pyramid itself.
Mina turned back around, and the statue was standing.
A twelve-foot Anubis had stepped down from the dais, crossed the room, and was now in front of him. Warmth spread across the front of his pants and down his leg, abject fear consuming every inch of his body. This was impossible. He’d bumped his head. He was concussed. Having a stroke. A hallucination. There wasn’t enough oxygen in this room. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and held it for a slow count of four. Several times in a row. Every second he wasn’t eaten or crushed or snapped in half was another second he was able to convince himself it had only been a wild vision. Slowly, Mina opened his eyes.
The vision was gone.
He stepped back into the center of the room and closer to where the statue should have been. Except now the statue was gone too. Only the empty stone throne remained. Mina raked his hands through his hair, throwing beads of sweat behind him. “Ok,” he whispered into the room, grounding himself in the reality of his own voice. He was real. He was alive. He just needed to find a way out of here. “Ok, ok.”
Mina turned around.
His heart threw itself into his throat, and if he’d had anything left in his bladder, it would have escaped him.
Before him stood Anubis. Smaller than before but at over seven feet, the glowing red eyes and hulking black frame still loomed over his twinkish five-eight.
Mina didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.
The creature stared at him. Its thick chest rising and falling in a slow rhythm. Its canine nose flaring at the air between them. Smelling him. Judging him.Testing him,Mina thought.
As if reading his thoughts, the figure reached out a hand and pressed it against Mina’s chest. It felt made of iron, and it warmed the chill racking through his body.
He weighed the hearts of men to determine their worth.
Great. From this being’s perspective, Mina was a follower of a foreign god who’d just desecrated his temple by coming all over it. Mina considered for a moment dropping to his knees and begging forgiveness. But the strong hand stayed on his chest, anchoring him in place. Mina craned his neck up to look into the face of the creature. Fear began to loosen its grip, and his heart began to slow. His breathing became more regular. The god’s nostrils flared, and its red eyes fluttered shut, taking in the scent of him. Mina found that he liked the feel of the hand on his chest. The strength of it. Mina’s smallness against its enormity. He felt a twitch in his pants and squeezed his eyes shut, willing himselfnot to react to the touch that was spreading a dizzying warmth throughout every inch of his body.
