Judgement

by Lindsey Sparks

  He stared down at me, expression one of utter confusion.

  My eyes narrowed to slits. “Think maybe you could turn the helm back over to Nik now?” I asked, raising my eyebrows. “I’m here. That was the whole point of you hijacking his body, right? So why don’t you just let Nik go and skedaddle on into your own body, or whatever . . .”

  Re grunted a humorless laugh, then closed his eyes and bowed his head. When his eyelids lifted once more, it revealed that heartwarming ice blue that belonged to Nik and Nik alone.

  I blew out a breath, pushing my hair out of my face with a hasty swipe of my hand. “Oh thank God,” I said as I reclaimed his hand and used it to pull myself up to my feet. “Good to have you back.”

  The corner of Nik’s mouth lifted, just a little. “Glad to be back.”

  My focus slid away from him, and I did a slow scan of our surroundings. “Damn,” I said, voice momentarily stolen by what I saw.

  We were in a dome that had to be at least five hundred feet high at its peak, taller than pretty much any building back in Rome. The walls were like quicksilver, rippling and refracting the light that seemed to be shining through it. I glanced down, confirming what I suspected from my less-than-dignified hands-and-knees arrival—the floor was made of the same material.

  I lifted one foot and tapped the toe of my shoe against the floor. Ripples spread out from the point of contact like those of a stone landing in water, only this stuff—whatever it was—felt solid. It was like the standard physical states from my universe didn’t apply here. Like solid, liquid, and gas weren’t rules in this alien place.

  “I wonder what it is,” I said, more to myself than to Nik.

  “Essence,” he said. “It’s the basic building block of this universe, what At and anti-At were modeled off of.”

  I looked at him, surprised by his answer. “How could you possibly know that?”

  Nik blinked, tension sharpening his features for the briefest moment before his expression relaxed. “Re . . .” He rubbed his temples with his thumb and index finger. “Some of his knowledge always spills over whenever he’s in here.”

  “Oh.” My eyes lingered on his face. “I don’t suppose you gleaned anything useful from his thoughts? Maybe some more info about what to expect with this whole trial thing?”

  Nik lowered his hand and shook his head. “No such luck. Sorry, Kitty Kat.”

  I sighed, lifting one shoulder. “No worries.”

  At the faint whoosh behind me, I spun around to look at the portal. Anapa had joined us.

  “What took you so long?” I asked. I’d thought he was right behind me.

  The corners of Anapa’s mouth just hinted at turning down. “I stepped into the portal immediately after you, Katarina.” He tilted his head to the side, curiosity lighting his midnight eyes. “How long have you been here?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. Five minutes, maybe?”

  That hint of a frown deepened. “How odd,” Anapa said. “I was under the impression that, besides the Mother of All, all beings traveled through portals at the same speed.” His brows drew together. “I have never heard of any sort of variability.”

  “That’s me,” I said, fake-laughing, “the variable one.”

  Anapa continued to stare at me, making me more than a little uncomfortable.

  “So . . .” I glanced at Nik, flashing him a discomfited smile. “What’s next?”

  “Oh,” Anapa said, “yes, right . . .”

  He seemed to shake himself out of his momentary trance, then turned around to face the swirling portal. He raised his hand and pressed it into the wall just outside the outer rim of the portal. Ever so slowly, he inched his hand toward the edge of the portal, and just as slowly, the portal shrank until it was nothing more than a small, blackened disk spinning ever more slowly on the quicksilver wall.

  Anapa plucked the disk off the wall once it had stopped spinning and curled his long fingers around it.

  With the portal closed, the walls and floor were the only sources of light, the Essence showering us all in an eerie, silver glow. It was like the world had been bleached of color, leaving behind only black and white and every shade of gray between.

  I laughed under my breath, more a nervous response than one of humor. “We’re definitely not in Kansas anymore,” I muttered.

  Anapa stared at me for a moment, clearly not catching the reference. Apparently, his time in my universe had not included much exposure to popular culture.

  “Oz,” I told him. “Wizard Of. It’s a classic. You should check it out sometime.”

  Anapa cleared his throat. “Yes, well, I would imagine that many things here will look strange to you, but I’ve done my best to add some familiarity to your quarters as well as to the chamber created for your trial.”

  “Created for?” I repeated back to him, eyebrows rising. “You created a whole space just for this?”

  “Indeed.” Anapa clasped his hands behind his back. “Such is the protocol in cases like this, as so few species can exist purely in energy form. As you are now, tied to your physical body, you would not be able to survive on our usual plane of existence.”

  “I’m sorry . . .” I blinked at him, exchanged a glance with Nik—who, surprisingly, didn’t seem at all affected by Anapa’s explanation—and returned to staring at Anapa. “But, what?”

  “We do not often descend to the physical plane,” Anapa explained further. “And as the Netjer most familiar with your universe, I was tasked with creating the physical spaces required for your stay here as well as charged with your care.”

  I opened my mouth and inhaled to ask one of the million questions buzzing around my mind, then pressed my lips together again. “Huh.”

  “Come,” Anapa said, raising a hand and waving it to the side.

  An opening formed in the wall of the dome, not swirling like the portal from my universe, but still round. Beyond it, I could see what appeared to be my bedroom from Heru’s place on Bainbridge Island.

  I stared through the doorway, my mouth falling open.

  “Let us get you settled in,” Anapa said. “It should not be too long of a wait until the High Council is ready for you, but I think you should have time to rest, if you’d like. This has been a lot to process, I’m sure.”

  Apparently, he’d meant it when he said the Netjers wanted to make me feel comfortable here. I wasn’t sure what to think of it. In the back of my mind, I’d been expecting to be thrown into a prison cell of stone and iron where I would rub elbows with rats and other vermin. But going so far as to create a replica of my bedroom—that was just strange. Why do it? What was the Netjers’ angle, really?

  Because instead of setting me at ease, the familiar surroundings were a jab to the heart, reminding me of just how far away home was. An actual, truly infinite distance away.

  That realization sparked a hint of panic and infected me with a bout of homesickness so acute and severe that it physically hurt. It felt like my heart was being squeezed, my lungs constricted, right there in my chest.

  I balled my hands into fists and straightened my spine, squaring my shoulders. Sure, this was a crazy situation. But it wasn’t my first time facing what was, by pretty much any definition, insane, and so far as I knew, there was a way out. So long as there was a way out, I would not panic. I would not give in to weakness.

  I would squash that shit and sweep it under a rug. I had to hide it away where nobody could see it. Not even me.

  Chapter Seven

  Nik followed me into the replica of my bedroom, Anapa right behind him. A quick examination of the space told me Anapa had done an impeccable job of recreating my room from back home. It was eerie to be surrounded by familiarity and to know that none of it was real. A tiny voice in the back of my mind wondered if that was the whole point. Was the High Council’s “standard protocol” in place to throw guests like me—if I could even be called a guest—off-balance before their trial? Or did they genuinely want to make me fe
el comfortable? If that was the case, it wasn’t working.

  “So, what happens next?” I asked, turning away from the illusion to face the doorway. It was right where a normal, mundane door would have been, but it couldn’t have been more different.

  Anapa stood just inside the opening. “For now,” he said, “you wait. I will return when the High Council summons you. It shouldn’t be long.” He turned as though he was about to walk right back out the way he’d come in.

  I took a step toward him. “You’re leaving? Just like that?” I raised my hands a few inches, subconsciously beseeching him to stay. “No explanation of—of anything?”

  Anapa seemed to be avoiding meeting my eyes, which set off all kinds of alarm bells in my mind. “You will understand everything soon enough,” he said cryptically, then stepped through the doorway.

  I rushed after him but barely managed two steps before the opening closed in on itself, sounding like something being sucked up a pneumatic tube, leaving nothing but a blank wall where the only way out had been just a moment earlier.

  I couldn’t believe he’d left. He just walked away, leaving us there, none the wiser. I still didn’t know what was going on, beyond the supposed trial I would be facing as the representative of my universe. Beyond his claims that my willing participation was the only thing standing between my universe and its complete and utter destruction. Beyond the fact that there was an infinite expanse of time and space between where I was now and where I belonged.

  “Oh, come on!” I smacked the wall where the door had been with an open hand, a frustrated growl rising up my throat. “This is such bullshit.” I hit the wall one more time for good measure, then turned and leaned back against it, crossing my arms over my chest.

  Nik settled in the violet armchair in the corner of the room, resting the base of his skull against its cushioned back and closing his eyes.

  “How can you just sit there?” I asked. I wrapped my fingers around my upper arms, digging my nails into my own flesh, hoping the pain would alleviate some of the panic mounting in my chest. “This whole situation is so screwy, and now Anapa . . .” My irritation with the Netjer came out in the form of a growl. “He just left us here. We’re trapped, Nik. We’re prisoners.” An anxious shiver crawled up my spine, and I threw my hands up in frustration. “And it’s like you don’t even care.”

  Nik rested his hands on the end of the chair’s arms, then raised and lowered his shoulders in an unenthusiastic shrug. “Calm down, Kitty Kat. There’s no point in getting all worked up about something we can’t change.”

  I scoffed, hardly able to believe the words that had just come out of his mouth. “Fine,” I said, gritting my teeth and shaking my head. I was getting the distinct urge to punch Nik, and I impressed even myself by showing some restraint and not doing it. “You just sit there,” I told him, a distinct edge to my voice. “Do nothing. I’m sure we can relax our way out of this.”

  “Kat . . .” Nik shifted forward in the chair like he was considering standing. Like he might come to me and try to comfort me.

  I raised a hand, palm out toward him. “No, don’t. If you get close to me right now, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop myself from scratching your face off.”

  Nik laughed silently, the corner of his mouth rising just a little. “Have it your way,” he said as he settled back in the chair.

  I was fully aware that my frustration with Nik stemmed from my frustration with myself. He didn’t need to be here, but he was because I’d demanded it. I’d justified it both internally and to Anapa by claiming that if Nik and I were separated for too long it would mean death for both of us. But the truth of it was that I’d really wanted Nik here with me because I was afraid and because he was the strongest, most powerful person I knew. And he made me stronger just by being here, with me. But at the same time, him being here was a reminder of my own weaknesses, which only frustrated me further. It was so much easier to push that frustration out onto him than to deal with it at the source—me.

  Sometimes I felt bad for him that he had to put up with me for the rest of forever. Now was not one of those times.

  I glared at Nik for a few seconds longer, then rolled my eyes once more, sniffing as I turned my back to him and recrossed my arms over my chest. I looked around at the familiar walls and furnishings, part of me wishing for the iron jail cell I’d imagined.

  The room was perfect—just like my room back on Bainbridge. The bed and nightstands, the dresser, the armchair, the armoire, and the bathroom were all in the right places. Even the standing mirror was there, though this version was just a mirror: no sign of Dom’s name etched around the frame, let alone his ghostly reflection.

  Even though everything looked right, it wasn’t. It was too neat. Too tidy. There were no bottles of booze on the dresser. My tarot cards weren’t strewn out on the nightstand alongside a glass of bourbon. The bed was made, which never happened, and there were no clothes draped over the chairback or piled on the floor near the armoire.

  My focus returned to the standing mirror, my thoughts turning to my half-brother, and I touched the mirror pendant hanging on a leather cord around my neck. “Dom, can you hear me?”

  There was no response. My heart gave a nervous flutter.

  I gripped the pendant, yanking the cord off over my head and dangling the tiny mirror in front of my face. “Dom? Are you in there?”

  The thought that he wasn’t in the mirror, that I couldn’t talk to him—the realization that, for once, he didn’t have my back—only fanned the flames of panic smoldering in my chest.

  “Dom?” I repeated, a slight tremor in my voice. He would be freaking out right now; everyone would be. To them, it would look like I’d vanished into thin air in the middle of the Rome crisis. Heru and Mei wouldn’t be able to find me using their sheuts—they wouldn’t be able to sense me at all. My friends and family—the whole world—would think I was dead.

  “Looks like he can’t reach the mirrors from a universe away,” Nik said, stating the obvious.

  “Yeah,” I said, voice thready as I continued to search the little pendant for any sign of my half-brother. “Looks like it.” With a shaky sigh, I returned the pendant to where it belonged, hanging around my neck. I was on the verge of losing my shit, and I forced myself to take deep breaths, hoping it would calm my frayed nerves.

  When I turned to Nik, I found that his pale blue eyes were locked on me, his stare intense. It was almost like he was studying me. Like he was waiting for me to break down.

  “What?”

  Nik didn’t respond. He just kept staring at me, and I couldn’t help but wonder if he was pissed off that I’d dragged him into this right along with me. Well, he could join the club, because I was pretty pissed off about it too.

  His scrutiny quickly made me feel self-conscious, and I turned away from him once more. I moved closer to the nightstand, wondering if Anapa had been so detailed in recreating my room—my prison cell—that he’d included a replica of my deck of tarot cards. They wouldn’t work the same way as my actual deck of tarot cards because I hadn’t made them, but it would be comforting to feel even a dummy version of the deck in my hands, regardless.

  I sat on the edge of the bed and reached for the drawer handle, but when I pulled the drawer open, I found that it was empty. I exhaled heavily. “Of course,” I said under my breath.

  “What’s wrong?” Nik asked.

  Besides everything? I laughed bitterly. “Nothing,” I said without looking at him.

  I shut the drawer and stood, moving to the dresser. I ran my hand over the top of the dresser, soothed by the smooth, faintly grooved surface. I trailed my fingertips along the wood grains until I reached the end of the dresser and jumped my fingers to the standing mirror, letting them glide around the top of the frame. It was impossible not to search the depths of the looking glass for Dom, even though I knew I wouldn’t find him in there.

  As I moved past the mirror, I drew closer to the window.
It showed the usual view of the thick forest of pines and evergreens and the Puget Sound beyond. But the view was too static. The blue-gray water was a solid mass, no movement to it all. Just another reminder of where I was. And where I wasn’t.

  As I stared out the window, a thought struck me. Maybe getting me out of my universe had been the plan all along. Maybe there was no trial, no High Council. Maybe I’d walked straight into a trap, eyes open but sight unseeing.

  Without me in my home universe, there was no way for Isfet to break out of Aaru. She would remain a prisoner there for the rest of time, and the Netjers could march right on in to my universe and do whatever the hell they wanted. The threat on the horizon, the big scary thing she’d been warning me about, would happen, and nobody would be able to do a damn thing about it.

  Because I was here. Because I’d abandoned everyone in my universe. Because maybe, just maybe, I’d been duped.

  I was too frustrated for words. I didn’t think I’d ever been so pissed off at myself. With a howl, I slammed my fist into that artificial window. I felt the sharp pain of some of the bones in my hand cracking, but the window didn’t break. It didn’t even have the decency to crack. It might have looked like a glass window, but that couldn’t have been further from the truth. It was a made-up thing. A fake. Everything in here was.

  Nik placed his hands on my shoulders, standing behind me. “Calm down, Kitty Kat. There’s no need to hurt yourself. We’ll figure a way out of this. Trust me. We just need to be calm. To think.”

  I hung my head, holding my now-throbbing hand to my chest. It would heal, but it would take a while. Besides, that physical pain dulled in comparison to my wounded pride. I hated that Nik had seen me give in to hopelessness like that.

  “Maybe you’ll feel better if we talk through what you should and shouldn’t tell the High Council . . .”