Epilogue

Epilogue 1.05

---Tahj---

     We stand at the entrance to the pyramid. Two round pillars flank the doorway. To the side of each pillar sits a statue, each depicting a man-falcon hybrid, not unlike the Egyptian god Horus. But these beings have wings instead of arms and talons instead of feet. I wonder if that's what the people here looked like. If so, I'm glad they're all dead.

     The tiger pauses at the threshold. It communicates via a low growl, which we interpret as 'Stay put.' Then it vanishes through the black veil of the doorway.

     "Am I the only one bothered by the fact that we're taking orders from an oversized cat?"

     Comma grins. "I like how you waited until the oversized cat was out of earshot to say that."

     "Oh, I can hear you quite well." A man walks out into the light, still shrugging into his oilskin vest, which evokes the Australian outback. He looks to be in his mid fifties, with a white van dyke beard. I half expect him to climb onto the back of a kangaroo.

     "Who the hell are you?"

     "Just an oversized cat," says the man, adjusting his cowboy hat. "Name of Grayson."

     "You're the tiger?"

     "A tigranthrope, to be exact. But that's a mouthful, isn't it?"

     Comma narrows her eyes. "So you're a weretiger?"

     That doesn't surprise me as much as I thought it would. I guess after shikigami and glowdarks, I'm willing to accept just about anything.

     "Why did you help us back there?" I find myself wishing I still had my AK. Sure, if he really is a weretiger, he'd probably rip me to pieces before I could fire a single shot. Doesn't mean I wouldn't feel better with my finger on the trigger.

     "It was the decent thing to do," replies Grayson. "You'd have done the same for me, I'm sure."

     "Like hell," Comma mutters to herself. I stifle a chuckle. But she's right. No one's going out of their way to save someone else's ass without some sort of ulterior motive. There are no good people left. Just survivors.

     "How many in your group?" I ask.

     Something about Grayson doesn't strike me the right way. Could he be one of the hostiles that slaughtered the rest of my group? But if that were the case, surely Miu-sama would have done something by now. At least, I assume she'd want to avenge Nobu.

     "Sorry to disappoint, but I'm a bit of a lone tiger, as it were."

     "You a ripper?"

     "What's that now?"

     I grit my teeth. "Don't play dumb, old man. You had to get here somehow."

     "I was born here," says Grayson. "At the age of thirteen I was handpicked by the gods to serve as a shaman. A keeper of the temple."

     "Yeah? Well the gods have checked out."

     "Not all of them," Miu-sama reminds me, nodding at the sun.

     Comma frowns. Looks like she doesn't trust this self-proclaimed shaman any more than I do. She's gripping her chakram like she wants to slit his throat or something. If it comes to that, I should probably keep her from doing anything stupid. She may be a pain in the ass, but I'd be lying if I said I'd enjoy seeing her mauled to death. The thought of me holding her back makes me chuckle. Who'd have thunk it? I'm too used to being the hot-headed one.