by Jasmine Walt
Along with Marcus, Neffe, and me, Dominic, Vali, and Alexander had spent the past three hours in one of two conference rooms on the ground floor of the main house, discussing the varying details of the excavation. Undergrad field school students weren’t scheduled to arrive until late May, and since it was too late to rearrange their course schedules with their various universities, Neffe and Dominic had arranged for several dozen Nejerets to join in their stead until they arrived. Now we just had to decide whether the field school students, who were humans, would be joining the excavation at all. Would they still be necessary? Would it be too risky to mix such a large group of Nejerets with humans? Having the small horde of Nejerets accompany me to the courthouse during the trial was one thing, but actually living together for months—the humans were bound to notice, and talk, and possibly do something unwise like try to expose the apparently superhuman humanoids living among them to the rest of the world.
“Cancel it,” Marcus said. “The humans are no longer necessary. They’ll just get in the way.”
“Or,” I interjected, “We could have them arrive as scheduled in May, but keep them in a separate ‘field school camp,’ away from the Nejerets.” I snorted softly. “We all know Deir el-Bahri is plenty large enough for two camps, and it’s not fair to the students to cancel the field school . . . they’re counting on this.”
Under the table, Marcus’s fingers cinched on my thigh. “Do as the Meswett wishes,” he told Neffe.
“Finally!” Neffe exclaimed. “At least someone can make a reasonable decision. Thanks, Lex.”
Neffe, you’re so not helping me, I thought, momentarily squeezing my eyes shut. “So are we finished then?” I asked, and again, Marcus tightened his grip on my leg. Since I was the Meswett and Marcus was the head of his familial line and the leader of the excavation to locate the ankh-At—Nuin’s time-travel power—we both were consulted regarding all important decisions. Marcus, who was used to being the sole decision-maker, developed acute stick-up-ass every time I influenced said decisions, even by doing something as small as attempting to end a meeting. Apparently he didn’t like to share control.
“For the most part,” Neffe said. “We have our Nejeret workers, field school students, transportation and accommodation arrangements, permits, and bribes taken care of. We may have to do some last-minute rearranging of personnel, but don’t worry, I’m sure Dom and I can take care of that—like we’ve done with everything else,” she said pointedly.
“Which you’ve both done very well,” I said with a warm smile.
Before I could speak, Marcus said, “Yes. Now, I would appreciate it if you could all leave me with the Meswett to discuss a few final matters.”
Chairs rolled on hardwood, people mumbled, and in a matter of seconds, everyone had left.
“What?” I asked wearily. We hadn’t had much time alone since Marcus’s return, and I had the anxious feeling that we weren’t about to have a sweet little tête-à-tête followed by a kiss and cuddle.
“You undermined my command,” he said softly, dangerously. “Don’t do it again.”
I straightened, holding my head high. “These people swore their lives to me—at your direction, I might add. What’d you expect, Marcus? Would you prefer they didn’t respect me . . . didn’t listen to me? Now that you’ve returned, am I just supposed to step back like a good little Nejerette and let almighty Heru take charge?”
Marcus’s lips spread into a razor-sharp grin and he said, “Most women enjoy it when I take charge.”
Suddenly exhausted, I ran my fingers through my loose hair and sighed. “I can’t do this right now, Marcus. I just can’t.” There was too much on my mind—too much worry about Set and the Nothingness and ankh-At—to waste energy on a power struggle with Marcus.
I rose and left the room, not stopping until I reached my bedroom. Needing to be alone, I locked the doors and started pacing. I felt physically ill, and it infuriated me that an unresolved dispute with Marcus could affect me so. Is this what a relationship with him will be like, just one long power struggle? Why did I think I could handle him? We were too dissimilar, products of vastly different times. Could I live with being what he apparently wanted me to be—his possession?
Absolutely not.
Could I live without him?
Yeah, but I really don’t want to.
A heavy, domineering knock rattled the door from the sitting room, and I heard the handle jiggle. “Lex,” Marcus called through the door. “Let me in.”
I approached the door and rested my hand against its surface, as though I could feel Marcus’s frustration through the solid oak.
“Lex, I’m . . . damn it!” His final word was emphasized with hard slap against the door. After minutes of silence, I decided he’d left.
I retreated to the oversized bed and curled into a ball in the center . . . and cried. I was sick of crying, sick of feeling weak. How many tears had Marcus coaxed from my tired eyes? How had he taken control of my emotions so completely? Why had I let him? I didn’t want to give him up, but I couldn’t be with him if he didn’t accept me as his equal. I couldn’t change him—make him less—and I didn’t want to, but maybe I could change how he saw me.
Curled up on the bed, I resolved to show Marcus that I truly was his she-falcon, a woman worthy of his respect as well as his emotional and physical attentions. With my heart settled, my head was free to spiral out of control. I’d been wrong in thinking Marcus was the cause of my current distress. He was only the tip of the iceberg.
Who am I? Alice and Joe Larson’s little girl? Daughter of Set? Great-granddaughter of Ivan, leader of the Nejeret? Marcus’s . . . something? Meswett, prophesied girl-child and savior of two species, one of which is oblivious to my existence? Destroyer of the world?
Who am I? What happened to Lex, the archaeologist? I liked her. She didn’t date much, but she was content with her place in the world. She had friends who cared about her . . .
Did they really?
. . . and a loving family. Her life wasn’t full of secrets . . .
Wasn’t it? Who am I kidding? This is how it’s always been . . . I just didn’t know. Which was the real problem, what was really bothering me—if I could return to my happy life, to my ignorant state of mind, would I?
No way in hell.
So who am I?
Lex.
Some time later, I heard the click of a lock, the opening of a door, and familiar, stealthy footsteps approaching the bed. Dominic.
“You didn’t give him the key?” I asked quietly.
Dominic sat behind me on the edge of the bed. “He didn’t ask. But had he, I would have refused.”
I rolled onto my back and reached out. Dominic grasped my hand and stretched out beside me. On the fluffy white comforter, we looked like a couple of oversized kids preparing to make a conjoined snow angel.
“Everything’s going to change tomorrow,” I said.
“Hasn’t it already?”
A soft laugh escaped from me. “Sometimes I feel like I’ve known you forever, Dom. I wish I had.”
“My forever, or yours?” he asked, notes of pain evident in his voice.
Turning my head, I examined his profile for evidence of whatever troubled him. Like all Nejerets, his features had been honed to perfection when he’d manifested. His pale skin and midnight hair stood in stark contrast around sharp, elfin bone structure. He and I shared the same high cheekbones and slightly pointy chin, but it was our father—Set—who he really resembled. I wondered how I hadn’t noticed the semblance when we first met in Denny Hall.
“Both,” I said. “Will you tell me what Set did to you?”
Dominic’s facial muscles tensed. “I don’t . . . it’s not pleasant.”
Squeezing his hand, I said, “I’m not sure what our dear father will do to make me obey him, but I’m pretty damn sure it’ll be worse than anything I can think of. Why should I hate him? Why should I want to destroy him at all costs? I need to
know, Dom. I need ammo. Please, tell me.”
Dominic shut his eyes tightly, like he was trying to hide from something, except whatever he was trying to hide from was already inside his head. After a few seconds, his eyelids snapped open, and he stared at the molded plaster ceiling.
Finally, he said, “I was born in a small village in the Loire Valley in the late sixteenth century. My mother had been a great beauty at court, and like most of her peers, had been enamored with a handsome Russian diplomat—Set’s cover at the time. He wooed his way into her bed, but unlike the rest of the courtiers, she was cunning, and mistrustful by nature. While their affair proceeded, she spied on him and discovered she was one of dozens. You see, Set wanted to build an army, so he spent hundreds of years bouncing from court to court, impregnating as many high-born women as possible. Carriers of the Nejeret genes are more prevalent in the upper class—probably because we naturally seek positions of power and our human offspring tend to benefit from that in both status and means.
“After several months, my mother learned she was pregnant and fled to a small village, where she hid and I was eventually born. Set didn’t try to follow her, but I’ve often wondered if he knew where we were the whole time, because when I manifested, he came after us immediately. He imprisoned my mother in one of his fortresses and cared for her only for the sake of keeping her alive, because alive, she could be used as leverage against me. He threatened to hurt her if I didn’t follow his wishes. On multiple occasions, he did hurt her, until I finally learned to obey.
“He made me into his hunter—his assassin—and set me on the track of Ivan’s line. At that time, he’d only been focused on preventing his prophesied destruction, and to do that, he planned to wipe out Ivan and his descendants completely. It was the same reason he forced Senenmut to build the hidden temple in the first place—to lock the ankh-At away forever. It wasn’t until the nineteenth century that he realized the girl-child would be his key to ruling the world.” Dominic shook his head, messing up his usually smooth hair. “I did horrible things at his command . . . but I managed to do some good, too. I helped some of your brethren escape and go into hiding.” Dominic paused and looked at me with a sad smile.
“On the night my mother died from an impromptu, excessive beating, I vowed to kill Set. As I made my way to his bedchamber, I was accosted by a man who’d been hidden in the shadows. In my time serving as Set’s personal assassin, I’d become highly skilled in the darker arts—lock-picking, breaking and entering, hand-to-hand combat, and of course, killing. But even I was no match for this man. I held my own against him for a few seconds, but he quickly had me weaponless and pinned on the ground.
“He asked me, ‘Are you ready to die, traitor?’ I nodded, but requested that he might hold off on my execution until after I’d killed Set. And he laughed! He told me that perhaps he wouldn’t kill me just yet—that he might have a use for me—and we fled the fortress together. He showed me the truth, and I learned of Nuin’s prophecy and that killing Set would destroy the easiest path to all of his offspring—possible harbingers of the doom predicted in the prophecy.”
I wasn’t quite sure what he meant, but unable to hold in my curiosity, I asked, “Who was he? The man who stopped you, I mean.”
Dominic looked at me quizzically. “Heru, of course.”
“And you’ve been working for him ever since?”
“With him, yes,” he said. “Fighting the good fight, and all that.”
“Thank you for telling me, Dom. I can’t believe what Set did to you and your mom . . . he . . . I’ll . . .”
“I know, Lex. For the first time since my mother’s death, I have family again,” he told me somberly. “Just try not to destroy yourself in the process of destroying him.”
“Do you think he’ll try to use my family against me, like he did with you and your mom?”
Dominic sat up abruptly. “I can’t imagine him not trying that. I’m sorry, Lex . . . I should have thought of it sooner.”
“Oh my God!” I exclaimed and launched off the bed. “I need to talk to Marcus.”
In seconds, I’d unlocked the door to the sitting room, opened it, and almost run straight into a six-and-a-half-foot wall of hard muscle covered in expensive, exquisitely tailored fabric.
I took a step backward. “Have you been standing here the whole time?” I asked, avoiding his eyes.
“No,” Marcus replied with a voice like silk. “I listened as you wept and then as you fell silent. When I heard nothing for nearly two hours, I left briefly to search for Dom and asked him to check on you.”
He listened to me cry? He stood out there for hours? “Oh, um, thanks.” I finally raised my eyes to his, but he wasn’t looking at me. Instead, he was glaring at Dominic, who was still sitting on the bed.
“Dom,” Marcus said, his voice low with warning.
Dominic instantly stood, and I would have been curious about what he’d done to set off Marcus—this time—but there were far more important matters on my mind.
“Marcus . . . my family,” I said, worry straining the words.
“Ah, yes . . . I think it’s time for another little meeting.”
Promptly, the three of us, along with four bodyguards, returned to the meeting room downstairs and waited for the others. Carlisle, Josh, Neffe, and Alexander all appeared within ten minutes of our own arrival.
After a long discussion, I made a list of everyone Set could possibly use against me as he’d used Dominic’s mother against him. It wasn’t a long list, consisting of my immediate family, my few aunts, uncles, and cousins, Grandma Suse, a half-dozen friends, Dr. Ramirez, and my cat. I hesitated only a moment before adding Cara to the list. After all, she had only spoken the truth on the witness stand.
“Are you sure that’s everyone?” Alexander asked.
I scanned the list. “Yep.”
“There must be more people you care about,” he insisted. “We need to know every single one, otherwise we won’t be able to protect them.”
“That’s it,” I said, growing self-conscious. I reexamined the short list of people, of the handful of meaningful relationships I’d accumulated over the first twenty-four years of my life. It wasn’t a very impressive list. Why so few? Have I always known I was different? Could others tell?
“But this is barely—”
“Let it go, Alex,” Marcus said quietly.
At his friend’s words, Alexander closed his mouth and studied me. Whatever he found troubled him, creasing his brow and pulling down the corners of his mouth.
“Carlisle,” Marcus said, “set up teams to monitor each person on this list. Dispatch them immediately. They are to report back as soon as they make indirect contact. Under only one circumstance are they to engage with their charge—direct threat from Set or his followers.”
“Yes, Sir,” Carlisle said as he pulled out his cell phone and began texting ferociously.
We spent the rest of the evening brainstorming the possible threats and acts Set might use to coerce my obedience. Until that night, I’d had no idea how many ways a person could be physically, mentally, and emotionally tortured. I felt like I was halfway to cracking under the pressure already, and Set was nowhere in sight.
“Lex, did you hear me?” Marcus asked, squeezing my knee.
“No,” I said, feeling empty. I had the vague impression that everyone was staring at me.
“I know you’re tired, but you can sleep on the plane. This is important. You need to focus,” Marcus urged. I felt him give my knee a shake.
“I . . . I . . . it’s . . .” I couldn’t seem to form a complete thought, couldn’t get a grip on reality. I was stuck in my head, imagining my fingernails being torn out with pliers, or being forced to watch my mom being raped.
“Leave us,” Marcus said quietly, and I heard the sounds of the others exiting the room.
When we were alone, Marcus spun my chair so I faced him. Slowly, his hands slid up my thighs and gripped the swell of
my hips, pulling my butt to the edge of the seat. He knelt on the hardwood floor before me, parting my knees and fitting himself between my legs. All numbness—mental and physical—immediately vanished. I became hyper-aware of every part of my body, and his.
“I don’t think I can do this,” I said quietly.
He leaned his forehead against mine and whispered, “Of course you can. You’re my she-falcon.”
I smiled faintly, and he mirrored the expression.
“This is very important, Lex,” he said softly, his voice somber. “If it comes down to physical torture, you must leave your body and enter the At. You won’t feel the pain there.”
“But what about my body?” My voice was small, childlike.
“It will heal.”
“It will heal if I stay, too.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “But your mind might not.”
“Oh.”
Chastely, he touched his lips to mine. “You are the daughter of two of the most powerful Nejeret lines. You are the Meswett. But most importantly, you are mine.”
Tears welled in my eyes, overflowing at the corners.
With more tenderness than I’d thought possible, Marcus kissed away each salty droplet. “You are mine, and I command you to survive this,” he whispered.
I shook with soft laughter. “There you go again, ordering me around.”
Marcus touched his lips to mine, but all of the chasteness of his previous kiss was gone. “Contrary to what you think, I don’t want to control you,” he said as he pulled away, reclaiming his seat.
I scooted back in my own chair and crossed my legs. “Why do I feel like there’s a ‘but’ coming?”
Marcus raised an eyebrow. “But . . . I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t let other men lie on your bed. I don’t want to smell them when I’m in it with you. It should just be the scent of you and me . . . together.”
My cheeks flushed. “But it was just Dom. He’s my—”
Shaking his head, Marcus took a deep breath. “Sibling relationships are different among our kind, Lex.”
At his implication, I gagged. “Are you saying that brothers and sisters . . . that Nejerets are incestuous?” I asked Marcus, appalled.
