After a few tense moments between the two of them, Mother imperiously breaks eye contact. Then she beams at us, clearing her throat over and over again until Osiris finally sets down the paper and looks at her.
“I asked you here for dinner because I have an announcement. I’m pregnant!”
Father blinks slowly, his eyes as black as his skin, then picks the paper back up. “A bit ahead of schedule. What about this one?” He nods in my general direction. I’m too shocked for the this one to sting. I’m sixteen. She has a baby every twenty years. Twenty. Not sixteen. Of all of the traditions the goddess of motherhood and fertility could throw out the window, this is the one she picks?
Isis shrugs, trying to look guilty behind her delighted smile. “I thought we could shake things up a bit. Besides, Isadora’s getting so big.”
“What, I had a growth spurt so now I’m expendable?” I can’t believe she’s replacing me already! She could at least pretend I matter even though she didn’t care enough to make me last forever like stupid Horus.
I’m so mad about this—I am—I’m furious. The only reason there are tears in my eyes is because I used too many onions in dinner. “Besides,” I say, trying not to sniffle, “you’re the one who’s always going on about schedules and traditions and doing things the same way all the time so that chaos can’t creep in and mess things up!”
“I think it’s wonderful,” Horus says, eating with gusto. “Keep the family line going.”
I glare at him, knowing exactly what he gets from my mother having more babies. What they all get. I won’t pretend otherwise. “Are the batteries running low? Time to pop out a new little worshipper who will be more obedient?”
Mother’s glare silences me with a familiar burst of pain. She shakes her head, and the pain eases a bit. “Don’t be dramatic, Isadora. You can help me with the baby! It’ll be good practice for when you have your own in a few years!”
Oh, death, anything but that. There are enough statues of her nursing miniature pharaohs everywhere I turn that I vowed long ago never to have kids of my own. No squealing babies sucking on my girls ever, thankyouverymuch. I quickly wipe under my eyes. Stupid onions.
“You’ll be a great help to Mother,” Horus says, flashing his falcon-bright eyes at me in a cold smile.
“Gee, thanks, Whore-us.” He can’t hear how I spell it, but it makes me feel better just knowing.
“When’s the new one due to arrive?” he asks our mother, and she beams back, practically glowing now that she is in full maternal-glory mode.
“Two months.”
I choke. “Two months? Aren’t babies supposed to take, like, four times that long?” I lean back and look at her stomach. Now that I stare, there’s a definite bulge. And she’s been wearing her flowiest ceremonial robes lately. I hadn’t thought anything of it.
“I waited for the right time to tell you. I didn’t want to upset you.”
“Bang-up job on that one.”
“Isadora . . .”
I hold up my hands in surrender. “Fine. Awesome. Two months.”
“Another thing,” Isis says, her voice getting distant and tight.
I groan. “If you say it’s twins, I’m going to stab myself in the eye with this fork.”
“I wanted to ask if anyone has had any dreams lately.”
The gods all shake their heads, then everyone turns to me.
“Loads of them,” I say. “Every night, in fact. It’s amazing.” Isis’s eyes begin narrowing, and I hold up my hands. “Sorry! You’ll have to be more specific.”
Worry clouds her face. “Dreams of darkness. Dreams of danger.”
I shrug. “Nope. Nothing but sunshine and frolicking in the Nile with a herd of purple hippos.”
“Purple. Hmm.” Her face is way too thoughtful. Never underestimate the ancient Egyptian emphasis on the ability of dreams to portend the future. As far as I’m concerned, a dream is a dream is a dream.
Osiris uses my mother’s distraction to stand and drift back to the underworld section of the house, as the others continue talking about the baby news.
I feel a wave of bleak sadness, a desperate, gasping sort of terror. This new life coming to our house forces me to face my own impermanence in a way I try to avoid at all costs. I’m replaceable. Utterly, completely replaceable.
&n