Time Anomaly: A Time Travel Romance (Echo Trilogy, #2)

by Lindsey Fairleigh

  “You have to let—” My words caught in my throat as an inky mist darker than pitch started seeping out of Weni’s mouth, nose, and ears. It was Apep, leaving Weni’s body.

  Heru released him, immediately crouching down to scoop me up with an arm under my knees and one behind my shoulders. By the time his friend sank to the floor, slumping over onto his shoulder, we were on the opposite side of the room. And darkness still poured out of Weni.

  “What is that?” Heru asked, his voice harsh.

  I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled his head lower so his ear was near my lips. “It can still hear us,” I whispered. “I will tell you once we return to the villa.”

  I heard a cough, and loosened my hold on Heru’s neck so we could both watch Weni. The darkness was fading as it oozed out one of the open-air windows set high in the wall, and Weni was leaning on his forearms, hacking up nothing but air. He glanced at us and reached out a hand for the briefest moment, then continued dry heaving on the floor.

  “It was not Weni who hurt me. He was not in control,” I told Heru. “We need to get him a healer.”

  “Your ankle is broken,” he said, ignoring my demand. “We need to get you back to the villa so it can be set before it heals incorrectly and must be re-broken.”

  I cringed, hoping that wouldn’t be the case, but considering the residual kick Nuin’s powers had given to my regenerative abilities, if we waited even ten or fifteen minutes, it would start to heal. I wasn’t a big fan of the re-breaking of any part of my body.

  “Do you know how to do it?” I asked him.

  “I do, but there are others who are far more skilled, so—”

  I looked into the golden and black depths of his eyes, working up my courage. “You have to do it . . . right now.”

  Heru started shaking his head. “I do not think—”

  I cut him off, “I regenerate faster than most.”

  Still holding me close against his torso, Heru studied me. Finally, he said, “Nuin is the father of our kind. Are you the mother?”

  “I . . . I am unsure of your meaning.”

  “Are you as ancient as Nuin? Are you one of the first of our kind?”

  I scowled. “Do I look as ancient as him?” I said, knowing full well the ridiculousness of the retort—to most, Nuin and Heru would appear to be identical twins in the prime of their lives, early thirties at the oldest, regardless of the fact that Nuin was far, far older—but pain was clouding the part of my mind that thought logically. “Do not answer that,” I said with a sigh. “I am young . . . in fact, you are ancient compared to me.”

  His eyes widened, then narrowed. “And yet, you heal more quickly than those who are far older?”

  I gritted my teeth and squeezed my eyes shut. “Yes, consider it another one of those secrets you are so desperate to learn.” I opened my eyes and focused on his. “And if you continue to delay setting my ankle, it will have to be re-broken, and then I will hate you forever.”

  For some reason, that earned me a half-smile. “I doubt you would hate me forever.”

  I responded with raised eyebrows and a pointed stare.

  “Or perhaps you will . . .” He took a deep breath, then exhaled heavily and did something that both shocked and delighted me: he pressed his lips to my forehead in the tenderest of kisses. “I apologize for the pain I am about to inflict,” he whispered.

  “I forgive you,” I breathed. My pulse had reverted to a pace nearly as quick and erratic as it had been when I’d been grappling with Apep. I knew Heru could hear the change and hoped he attributed it to fear.

  Gently, Heru set me on the floor and knelt at my feet. He tore a wide strip from the bottom of my dress, twisted it into a short strip of makeshift rope, and handed it to me. “You will want to bite down on this.”

  “Tell me when you are going to do it,” I said before placing the rolled-up linen in my mouth.

  Holding my gaze, Heru tugged on part of my foot.

  The pain was mind-shattering; it became my whole world. I screamed.

  And then I passed out.

  17

  One & Only

  The dazzling rainbow of colors swarmed around me, a chaos of reds, blues, greens, golds, and everything in between. The At was so brilliant, so much brighter than it was in my time period, and I couldn’t help but wonder why—because the Nothingness had dimmed it in my time? Something else?

  Everything—the At, my ba, the nonexistent ground beneath my nonexistent feet—lurched, and the colors wavered, shimmered like I was viewing them through water, and faded to the less intense colors I was more familiar with. Apparently Nuin’s block didn’t work on my ba when it was outside of my body, because I was fairly certain I’d just jumped through time. Or rather, like being yanked by a bungee cord, my ba had returned to its own time . . . Marcus’s time. It didn’t matter, not at the moment. There was no way I was about to waste this opportunity.

  Whether it was because I was a product of two of the most powerful Nejeret lines, or because I’d grown up with a sliver of Nuin’s sheut tucked safely inside me, I was capable of doing pretty much anything any other Nejeret or Nejerette could do. And this included “tracking,” the ability to hunt down the ba of any other Nejeret. If Marcus was in the At, I could find him . . . if he was in the At.

  I closed my eyes and thought of him and only him. Marcus . . .

  . . . Marcus . . .

  . . . Marcus . . .

  . . . Marcus . . .

  “Is this real?”

  My eyelids snapped open.

  Marcus, wearing his usual, immaculate charcoal slacks and white button-down shirt, looking so beautiful and perfect and exactly what I needed to see at that moment, was standing right in front of me, surrounded by the dulled colors of the At. His eyes were round, his lips parted, his unbreakable composure shattered.

  Hesitantly he raised his hand, almost like he thought trying to touch me would break the illusion. “Dom told me—but I didn’t believe him. Are you really here?”

  “Yes . . .” I lunged forward, throwing myself at Marcus.

  His arms wrapped around me, so warm and strong, so comforting . . . so right. I inhaled his spicy scent and lifted my face to his, not willing to waste any time on teasing kisses.

  Apparently, Marcus was of the same mind, because he crushed his lips against mine, devouring me with a kiss filled with need and desperation. A kiss that I thought, just maybe, could pull me all the way back to him, utterly and completely.

  Breaking the kiss, I gasped for air and looked into his eyes, drowning in those golden pools filled with so much warmth and love. “How long?”

  Marcus rested his forehead against mine, breathing just as hard as I was.

  I fisted my hands in the back of his shirt. “How long have I been gone, Marcus?”

  He closed his eyes. “A little over a day.”

  Which fit with how long I’d been in ancient Egypt, confirming Nuin’s claim that my body, my ba, would remain anchored to its native timeline. “Did Aset—”

  The At started shimmering.

  “No . . .” I didn’t want to go back. I wanted to stay with Marcus, to remain in this placeless portion of the At forever.

  Marcus’s fingers clenched on either side of my head, and once again, he brought his mouth down to mine.

  The At lurched, and he vanished.

  His voice drifted through the momentary fissure of time, a distant echo trailing after me. “. . . love you, Little Ivanov . . . always . . .”

  I came back to consciousness lying on something as hard as stone, my head resting on something warmer and softer. A lap, I realized. A single, shallow breath identified the owner of the lap: Marcus. Ever so softly, he was brushing his fingers through my hair. Contentment filled me, and I smiled.

  I opened my eyes and drank in the sight of him as I raised my hand. I skimmed my fingertips over the barely-there stubble shadowing his jawline, then over the velvety softness of his lips. “Do you have
any idea how much I love you?”

  Desire darkened his eyes, but he pulled my hand away from his face. “You know I do not speak your language,” he said in Nuin’s tongue.

  “What?” I asked, automatically switching to the same language.

  “You are confused.” He smiled faintly, and there was sadness in the expression. “I think you have mistaken me for your husband.”

  I blinked several times.

  “I am Heru, not Nuin.”

  “Nuin,” I repeated, and like a dam had been broken in my mind, my wits rushed back to me. “Nuin . . . is my husband.”

  “He is,” Heru agreed, still caressing my hair. “Though I cannot say I lack envy for his position.” Before I could formulate a response, he said, “You were right, you do heal more quickly than most. After you lost consciousness, I had to re-break several areas multiple times to set your bones in the correct alignment.” A shadow of a smile crossed his face. “I am just grateful that you did not actually feel most of it.”

  “How long was I out?”

  “Less than a quarter of an hour. The swelling has gone down some. Soon, it should be stable enough that I can carry you back to the villa without risking unsetting anything.” He placed his palms on the floor on either side of him, and his arm muscles bulged as he tensed to move out from under me.

  Before I realized what I was doing, my fingers wrapped around his nearest wrist. I glanced at the place where I was holding onto him, then up at his face. “Please. Stay.”

  There was a moment of indecision before he relaxed back against the wall.

  “Thank you.” I wished he would continue stroking my hair, but I was pretty sure requesting as much would put an end to this stolen moment. “How is Weni?” I turned to look across the room. The dockmaster was still passed out on the floor near the opposite wall, unconscious but, thankfully, not dead. “Oh.”

  “Can you tell me what happened now?” Heru asked, drawing my attention back up to him. “What was that—that smoke?”

  “Look at me,” I said.

  Heru muttered something in the common tongue, then sighed and gazed down at me. There was no oily darkness, only the usual black-banded gold. A Nejerette could get lost in those eyes. Heru cleared his throat.

  “You can tell when the spirit is possessing someone by looking into their eyes. The darkness swims around just below the surface.”

  Heru’s brow furrowed, but he remained silent.

  I lowered my voice. “The spirit is called ‘Apep,’ and—”

  Heru’s eyebrows rose. “Apep?”

  “Shhh!” I hissed, placing my hand over his mouth. I could feel his lips curve into a smile, and laughter danced in his eyes. “Stop it, Heru. This is serious!”

  The teasing light in his eyes faded. “I know,” he said against my hand.

  I pulled it away from his mouth.

  “Again, apologies. Forgive me?”

  I crossed my arms over my chest and scrunched up my face, pretending to think really, really hard.

  “Oh,” he laughed. “Who is not taking the matter seriously now?”

  Lips pressed together, I smiled up at him. I held his gaze for several seconds before sighing. “Apep is the disembodied spirit of a being of equal power to Nuin—”

  “And to you,” Heru said, his expression intent.

  “I—yes, and of equal power to me.” I took several breaths to collect my thoughts as I decided how to proceed. “Apep is capable of possessing the physical form of a human or Netjer-At . . . or any being, for all I know.”

  “Why did he not possess you?” Heru asked. “Would it not make sense for him to seek out the most powerful host?”

  “It would,” I said slowly. “But the full extent of my power is somewhat, er, hidden. He did not know.”

  “But still, you are Netjer-At, where Weni is merely human.” Heru frowned. “For that matter, Apep did not try to possess me, either, and either of us would seem to be a more desirable host . . .”

  I mirrored Heru’s frown and shook my head. “He had other plans for me, but why he did not attempt to possess you . . . that I do not know.” I made a mental note to ask Nuin about it once we returned to the villa.

  “Why does he do it—possess people?”

  I was quiet for a moment. “Nuin has something that once belonged to him, but Apep abused it, so he lost the privilege to retain it. Now he wanders around from body to body, seeking out a way to make it his again.”

  “Is that what he was doing here—trying to make you his again?”

  My eyebrows rose. “Me?”

  “It is you, is it not, this ‘thing’ Apep is after?”

  “No. Apep is after his sheut.” As soon as the words left my mouth, I scowled. “I should not have told you that. You must un-hear it.”

  That earned me another tantalizing half-smile. “So why did he come after you?”

  I looked away, unable to meet Heru’s intense eyes while I told him. “He said I was a message. He said, ‘Nuin took what is rightfully mine. Until he gives it back, I will continue to take what is his.’” When I returned my gaze to Heru’s, his jaw was clenched and there was death in his eyes.

  “Did he”—he swallowed roughly—“violate you?”

  I shook my head, and a tear escaped as I replayed the horrifying minutes in my mind. “He told me he would kill the guards and then kill me if I screamed, so I kept quiet until I knew for sure what he was going to do. He told me he was going to—” I took a deep breath. “He was going to tear my heart out of my chest. So I fought, and when that proved futile, I called out to you.” I cleared my throat, remembering the all-encompassing fear, closely followed by the nauseating pain. “That was when he broke my ankle.”

  “So much courage,” Heru murmured.

  Not enough courage, I thought as I stared up at him. Electricity seemed to arc between our gazes.

  A groan came from the opposite side of the room, breaking the mounting tension.

  “See,” Heru said, clearing his throat. “He did not require a healer after all.”

  “Why did you not send somebody for one once I was unconscious? He could have died!”

  “Weni? No . . . he is too stubborn to go like that.”

  Weni grumbled something, and Heru laughed, but when Weni’s words gained more coherency, Heru’s expression sobered. He spoke to his friend, concern evident in his eyes.

  “Is he okay?” I asked.

  “He is apologizing . . . and ordering me to beg you for your forgiveness . . . praising your unmatched beauty—”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “—and professing his eternal loyalty.” Heru frowned for a moment and said something to Weni in a harsh tone.

  “Stop being mean,” I told Heru.

  He returned his attention to me, his eyebrows raised. “I thought you did not understand the common language.”

  “And I do not, but even I can tell you are being a butthead.”

  For a moment, Heru said nothing. Then he was laughing, full and booming. “A ‘butthead’? That may be the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard. Ever.”

  “Well, some things translate better than others,” I muttered.

  “So it would seem.”

  ***

  “I do not blame you,” Nuin told Heru.

  Heru continued pacing back and forth across Nuin’s sitting room, exactly as he’d been doing ever since he and I returned at dusk. I was settled in the chair opposite Nuin at the senet table, petting Rus, who was sound asleep on my lap, and watching Heru like he was a one-man tennis match.

  Heru looked at me, then shot a scathing glare at Nuin. “Who you blame is up to you. As is who I blame. Do you have any idea what almost happened to her?”

  “I take it that you blame me?” Nuin said.

  “How could I not?” Heru snapped. “You should have told me of this enemy. Had I known the potential danger that stalked her, I never would have left her side!”

  “And how would
you suggest I protect her in the future?”

  Heru said nothing, just continued pacing.

  “Would you stay by her side at all times, if it meant she would be safe?”

  “I would,” Heru said without hesitation.

  Nuin nodded. “Done.”

  Finally, Heru’s pacing faltered, and he faced us. “I do not understand.”

  “You will stay by her side.”

  Heru shook his head. “I thought you were asking what I would do if I were you. I did not mean—” Heru looked at me, and whatever he saw on my face—possibly the hurt in my eyes, or maybe the defiance at his rejection—stopped him from finishing what he’d been about to say. He stared at me for a long moment, then bowed his head. “I would gladly accept this duty.”

  “Very well,” Nuin said with a note of finality. “You will be Alexandra’s Blade, both her companion and her protector, at all times unless I am with her and give you leave. You will teach her to defend herself, and if she still desires it, to speak the common tongue. You will be responsible not only for her safety, but for ensuring that all her needs are tended to.”

  I nearly choked at the double meaning behind Nuin’s words. There were a few needs Heru most certainly couldn’t tend to, not without signing his own death warrant. Bonding between us wouldn’t happen; it couldn’t happen.

  “You can have tonight to take care of those matters that will be neglected during your time with Alexandra.” In other words, I thought, Heru had tonight to put a stopper in his relationship with Ankhesenpepi.

  “Understood,” Heru said, then turned his attention to me. “I will return at the sun’s rebirth.” He bowed his head to me and to Nuin, and left the room.

  I watched him stride away, then shifted my focus to Nuin. I studied his face, a niggling feeling worming its way into conscious thought. It wasn’t a good feeling.

  I narrowed my eyes. “You knew,” I said in English.

  Nuin blinked and returned my stare, his expression completely blank. “I’m not quite sure I know what you’re talking about, dear Alexandra.”

  “You knew Apep would come after me . . . or at least, you suspected.” I leaned forward, pressing my palms onto the tabletop. “That’s why you sent us out of the villa in the first place; shopping was just the most convenient excuse. You wanted Apep to find me. You wanted him to attack me so you would have a carrot to dangle in front of Heru to get him to fall in line.”