Right, so, Ankhesenpepi bled out, right in front of us, and Apep oozed out of her in all of his inky, oily glory and started toward me. Nuin—or rather Re, who’d apparently been lying in wait in Nuin’s dead body—rose up in a sparkling iridescent mist and rushed Apep, who chose to hide in the nearest person, Nejeret or otherwise, rather than be subjected to whatever Re could do to him in his now-incorporeal state. As I’m sure you’ve guessed by now, the person Apep hid in was none other than Set, who immediately passed out.
I frowned. I’d spent my whole life hating and fearing my dad. He was the monster under the bed, in the closet, and standing just outside, watching through the window. Hell, there were a bunch of times he probably had been standing just outside the window, watching me and mom. He’s always been such a creeper . . .
Which made it so damn weird to think that my real dad, the guy who gave me his genes, wasn’t actually a bad guy. According to everything I’d read of Lex’s—and I’d read a lot—he was kind of a sweetheart. And Lex was going to trap him, hold him prisoner in his own body, for pretty much ever, as far as we knew. And that was the best-case scenario.
I swallowed repeatedly and cleared my throat. I. Would. Not. Freaking. Cry. I had a job to do, and it didn’t include blubbering like a baby, damn it.
Taking a deep breath, I continued writing.
Re, having no body and no incorporeal enemy to contend with, changed direction. He hovered around Nekure, who was completely baffled as to why the shimmering mist was doing that until I told him that Re—well, I said “Nuin” to him, because I hadn’t actually explained all that stuff about Nuin actually being Re, mythological archnemesis of Apep, blah blah blah—was probably waiting for permission. Once Nekure understood, his face brightened with a smile and he nodded. Personally, I wouldn’t have been so eager to be possessed, but to each his own . . .
“Wait, whaaat . . . ?” I stared at the wall, at Lex’s next words, my eyes wide and my mouth hanging open. “No effing way.” I blinked several times, then read her words out loud. “We watched as Re seeped into Nekure, and then he passed out, too.” I licked my lips and shook my head at the wall. “Holy effing shitballs.”
“I can honestly say that I didn’t think it would be you,” Nik said from the lone doorway out of the chamber.
I yelped and flung my notebook and pen in the air. They landed just beyond my feet as I spun on my butt to face the intruder.
Nik stepped into the room and raised his hand to the doorway. A sheet of what looked like liquid tin foil spread out from his palm, covering the opening in seconds. In a blink, it turned into pale, shimmering stone that matched the room’s walls, ceiling, and floor. Not stone, I realized—solidified At.
I shifted so my feet were under me and rose, slowly, like not making any fast movements might prevent Nik from doing whatever the hell he was planning to do that required a door of At sealing us in. I backed away just as slowly, until my back hit a wall. My heart pounded in my chest.
He was still standing by the blocked doorway, watching me. His head was cocked to the side and a tiny smile curved his lips.
“What—what do you want?”
He shook his head and just kept on staring at me, wearing that knowing little smile.
“I won’t tell anyone, if that’s what you’re worried about. I mean, if you want me to keep it a secret that you’re, you know, possessed . . .” I cleared my throat. “I, um, will.”
Nik’s eyebrows rose, and he touched his fingertips to the front of his black T-shirt. “Me?” He shook his head, and the corners of his mouth turned down in the slightest possible frown. “I don’t want anything from you. He does.”
“He . . . ?” I blinked several times. “Nuin? I mean, Re? Why?” I shook my head. “I don’t have anything. What could he possibly want from me?”
Nik grinned and closed his eyes for several seconds. When he opened them again, they were no longer pale blue, but the color of glimmering opals. His expression changed, becoming warm and kind and making Nik’s face seem far less menacing and far more handsome.
“Katarina Dubois,” he said, bowing his head. “We have never actually met, though I have heard much about you, and I have seen you many times . . . through Nekure’s eyes, of course.”
“Uh . . .”
He held his hands up in a placating gesture. “I mean you no harm, I swear it.”
“And Nik . . . ?”
He shrugged. “I do not know his inner thoughts, only those he chooses to share with me.”
I swallowed. How reassuring . . .
“We do not have much time.”
“What are you—”
“Alexandra will be returning in a matter of minutes.”
“How do you—”
“A long time ago, she informed Nekure and myself of several occurrences that would herald her return to this time. Someone discovering the truth about me was the final sign, though she seemed to find great amusement in not telling us who that someone would be. I am certain that finding out that it’s you will both disturb and intrigue Nekure greatly.” He waved his hand dismissively. “But that is of no matter right now. Alexandra will arrive momentarily.”
“So why are we—”
“You have a very important task,” he said, interrupting me again. It was getting annoying. “One that the fate of the universe depends on.”
I felt the color drain from my face. I was pretty sure I didn’t have whatever it took to be one of those universe-depends-on-you kind of people; that was more Lex and Marcus’s shtick, not mine. “Wha—what do I have to do?”
Re-Nik smiled blissfully. “You must find Heru, alert him of Alexandra’s arrival, then hunt down Carson and—”
“Carson?” I frowned and tilted my head to the side. “Why?” I may have felt a teensy bit of pleasure in interrupting him that time.
Re-Nik’s cheek twitched. “Because he is important as well. Together, the two of you will trigger a series of events that must be. Now, you must—”
“Does he know about you, too?” I couldn’t hold in all of my grin at getting the chance to interrupt him again. “Is that why Nik sort of hates him?”
Re-Nik strode toward the door of At and touched his hand to its surface. It evaporated almost immediately. “There’s no time to explain.” He stepped to the side of the doorway. “Go now, Katarina.”
Eyes wide and heart beating too quickly—Lex is returning!—I pushed off the wall and ran past Re-Nik toward the doorway. I wasn’t sure if it was my imagination, but I may or may not have heard him murmur something that sounded an awful lot like, “I am sorry.”
44
Lex
“There,” I said as I pulled my fingertips from Heru’s forehead. “It is done.” I smirked, just a little. “And I promise to let you shatter the bonding block as soon as possible when I return to my time. I know how much you enjoy doing that . . .”
Heru didn’t return my teasing smirk, and no mischief sparkled in his eyes. There, only sadness shone, pure and bright. He cupped either side of my jaw, tilting my face upward, and gazed into my eyes, searching, asking . . . pleading. “Alexandra . . . little queen . . .” His voice was soft, his touch tender. “You do not need to do this. The bonding block, that was necessary, but my memories of you . . . I need them. The thought of not knowing . . .”
We were surrounded by an ocean of sand, about a mile from the Oasis, which was now covered in an At dome and a mound of limestone rubble. The rest of our people awaited us just out of sight . . . or rather, they awaited him. I would not be returning with him. I would not be traveling back across the Red Land to Men-nefer with Heru and the rest of his family, would not watch his children grow up, would not be a part of his life for thousands of years.
I smiled the saddest smile. “But you do not need your memories of me, not yet. And you will not miss them, because you will not know of them.”
“But I want to keep them,” he said somberly.
My smile turned b
itter. “There is a great difference between want and need,” I said, echoing something he’d told me thousands of years in the future in Seattle, just before walking me home for the first time.
Heru’s eyes were filled with a plea, but he didn’t ask again.
Standing on tiptoes, I brushed my lips across his and whispered, “I love you, my Heru, so very, very much, and before you know it, I will be standing in front of you, unsealing your memories of my time here,” right before I reached into his mind and locked every single memory of me—of all that had happened since my arrival—behind an impenetrable wall, replacing them with his own version of the same, vague recollections I’d given to everyone else. Everyone except Aset, Nekure, and the three Hat-hur priestesses, of course.
Heru pulled away and eyed me quizzically. “Apologies . . .” He shook his head, a tiny, confused smile tugging one corner of his mouth. “I do not know . . .” He cocked his head to the side. “Do I know you?”
“No,” I said, taking a step back. The single word was thick with emotion, so I cleared my throat. “But one day, you will know me.” My eyes stung with unshed tears as I pointed to a nearby sand dune. “Your family—Sesha and your children—await you just beyond the crest. You should rejoin them.”
“My—my family . . .” Heru’s eyes searched mine, and his face fell. “Bunefer . . . Tarset—they are gone.”
I had to fight the urge to reach out to him, to comfort him. He no longer knew me, and doing so would only upset and confuse him further. “I am very sorry for your loss, Heru. I truly am.” Swallowing roughly, I gestured toward the dune. “Your family needs you now. You should go to them.”
“Yes . . .” Brow furrowed, he studied me for a moment longer, then turned and ascended the dune. At the top, he looked over his shoulder, meeting my eyes one last time, and then he was gone. I felt like my heart had been ripped out of my chest, just as Apep had threatened to do weeks ago.
I closed my eyes, allowing a single tear to escape, then took a deep breath and shifted back to just outside the broken Oasis, where Aset, Nekure, and the priestesses were waiting for me. I reentered the physical plane in a poof of misty colors directly in front of the mouth of a new tunnel, the only way through the rubble and into the covered city.
Aset and Nekure were standing off to the side, speaking quietly to the priestesses. From the snippets I caught as I approached, I surmised that they were solidifying their story of what happened over the past month, making sure everything was in sync so there wouldn’t be any inconsistencies to raise eyebrows.
I reached into the folds of my desert robe as I approached them, pausing to scratch Rus’s head before pulling a small, rolled up sheet of papyrus from the tiny drawstring purse tied to my belt. I handed it to Aset and met her eyes. “You must give this to me after you find me in Cairo. You will know when I need you by watching Set.” I glanced at Nekure. “You are certain you can break through Set’s cloak in my time . . . even when the At has been made unstable by the Nothingness?”
Smirking, Nekure nodded. “I have always been stronger than Set.”
I frowned, worrying my bottom lip. “And you are absolutely certain that he does not know of your sheut? That Apep won’t be able to glean that from his mind?” I’d blocked both Set’s and Apep’s memories of me, just as I’d done to everyone else, but I hadn’t thought to search for anything relating to Nekure’s unusual parentage.
Again, Nekure nodded. “He believes me to be Heru’s first son . . . the product of a pre-manifestation affair with a woman from the cold lands while Heru and my mother were traveling in the north . . .”
I nodded once. “Good. It must remain that way.” I turned my attention back to Aset. “I do not know how long it will take for Apep to take control of Set’s body, so you must be wary of him. I believe Set will remain Set for quite some time, but when you see the darkness in his eyes, you will know that Apep is in control. And you must remember always that even when Apep is not in control, he can see and hear everything Set sees and hears.”
“We understand,” Aset said.
“Good.” Again, I gave a single nod. “In the far future, when Apep leaves Set to possess Heru, then you must come to the location written here.” I handed her a second piece of rolled-up papyrus. “It will not make sense to you yet, but in time . . . there is also a second place and time on there. It is when and where we will first meet in my native timeline. Before then, you must gain a position as a healer at the establishment I wrote down, and you must be there on the night listed.”
Aset nodded. “I understand.”
“And Aset . . .” I reached for her hand and took a deep breath. “I am going to ask you something, and I need you to answer honestly.”
Her eyes widened the smallest amount.
“It was not Nuin who rescued you from Nekure’s father, was it?”
The tiniest smile curved her lips. “It was not.”
I released her hand. “Because it was me.”
“Yes, dear friend.” Her smile widened. “It was you.”
And surprising me, she produced her own rolled sheet of papyrus, no bigger than a cigar. “Directly before you return to your time, you must read this.”
My eyebrows rose. “What is it?” I asked as I started to break the gold seal.
Aset placed her hand over the papyrus roll, stopping me. “Not yet—you must read this only when you are about to leave.” She flashed her trademark warm smile. “Trust me.” Only when I nodded did she pull her hand away.
“Okay . . .” I turned to Nekure. “Is Nuin—” I shook my head. “Is Re still out of commission?” Because I really would’ve preferred to speak to him before I left, but I supposed it didn’t make much difference whether I spoke to him before leaving this time or right after returning to my own.
“So it seems,” Nekure said. “I can feel him, but he has yet to attempt to communicate with me . . .” He shook his head. “I do not know how long it will take. Apologies, Lex.”
I touched his arm and offered him a smile. “It is no fault of yours. What you did for him was very honorable.” And a great sacrifice, I didn’t say. Taking a step closer to him, I wrapped my arms around his trim torso in a tight hug, then did the same with Aset. “I will miss you both.”
“Not as much as we will miss you, I think.” Aset squeezed me back. “But we will meet again, this we know.”
After we finished our goodbyes, I watched Aset, Nekure, and the priestesses walk into the desert, following the path Heru and the rest of the Nejerets and their families had taken only a few hours earlier. Aset was speaking animatedly to Denai, giving her instructions on what her new, secret Hat-hur cult must to do prepare for the events that would happen in thousands of years, leading to me coming here.
Only once they were out of sight did I retreat into the tunnel that led through the limestone rubble covering the dome. I sealed off the entrance with a door of At that could only be triggered by the combination of both Heru’s and my bonding pheromones, then made my way down the tunnel and headed toward Heru’s palace to say goodbye to Tarset.
The Oasis—more like a cavern now—felt like an eerie, desolate husk absent of the life it had teemed with only hours ago. But one day, in the distant future, I thought we might be able to resurrect Nuin’s glorious city. It would be a fitting tribute to the long life Re had spent on earth as Nuin, the Great Father and creator of my people.
I moved through the empty rooms of Heru’s palace like a ghost, touching nothing, feeling empty. When I entered the children’s room in the back of the palace, Tarset still looked like a sculpture of a sleeping child lying on her bed.
Pulling a sleepy Rus out from his sling under my desert robes, I placed him on the bed beside the little girl. He stretched, yawned, and turned in a circle before curling up against her arm. I couldn’t bring him with me—traveling through time would, quite literally, tear him apart—but I could offer him his own form of time travel, just as I’d done to give Tarset a
fighting chance.
“See you soon, little guy,” I said as I scratched the top of his head.
He blinked lazily, then rested his chin on his front paws and closed his eyes. A moment later, he was as still and solid—as eternal—as Tarset.
I smiled, finding comfort in knowing that Heru’s youngest daughter wouldn’t be alone during the long millennia. Glancing around, I imagined how the room might look in four thousand years, and all I could picture was inches and inches of dust and cobwebs . . . and I couldn’t allow that—not on Tarset and Rus’s stone-like bodies.
Leaning over the little girl, I pressed my lips to her forehead and whispered, “Sleep well, little fig.” I cleared my throat roughly, tears welling in my eyes. “I’ll see you soon, too.” As I pulled away, I transformed the bed into solidified At so it wouldn’t collapse over the millennia and spread a thin layer of At over it. No dust, no spider, or anything else would touch her or Rus while they lay there, frozen in time.
After leaving Heru’s palace, I sealed myself in my underground sanctuary, spending a few hours adding one final room that described the events that had taken place the previous afternoon, sealing off the door to the scandalous domed chamber—I would let Marcus read those words once I’d returned—and creating a life-size statue of myself as one final gift to Marcus.
When I was finished, I stopped by the altar in the burial chamber—as it truly was a burial chamber now—and spent a few minutes fussing with Nuin’s linen wrappings, making sure they were just so, before I formed a clear sheet of At over him as well. He was too wondrous to hide from the world, but too special to allow anyone to have free access to his body. And somehow, perhaps it was another of the strange snippets of information I was able to glean from the sheut now that it was whole within me, I knew that his body would remain as it was for all eternity. Time would not—could not—touch one such as him.
Time Anomaly: A Time Travel Romance (Echo Trilogy, #2) Page 33
