I hadn’t dreamed while I was asleep, at least not that I could remember. Which meant no echoes—no visions of what the future might bring. I wondered if being outside of my universe meant I had no powers at all. Was I entirely without magic? I’d been wishing I could go back to being a normal Nejeret for weeks—months, even—but not like this. I hadn’t wished to be rendered utterly powerless. Talk about being careful what you wish for . . . I closed my eyes and focused inward, seeking out that special part of my soul that allowed me to wield universal energies in a way that could only be called magic.
Sensing my sheut, I exhaled in relief. Even better, I could still feel the threads of At and anti-At marbling my ba. If I could just figure out how to reach out across the vast distance from here to my universe and reconnect with those primal energies, I would be able to shake this powerless feeling. I would be able to take some minimal amount of control back into my own hands. Then, this whole situation might feel a little less impossible to deal with.
Opening my eyes, I craned my neck to get a look at Nik’s face. His eyes were closed, and his chest rose and fell with the deep, even breaths of sleep.
Ever so carefully, I slid out from under his arm, tucking it against his chest before moving away from the bed. I needed to think, not sleep. And I always thought best when I was moving.
I started to pace back and forth across the room, stretching out and flexing the fingers of my right hand. I was pleased to find it had healed completely while I slept. My stomach groaned, a reminder that I would need food soon to replenish the energy my body had used to heal itself. Not that there was anything I could do about that now.
As I moved around the room, I couldn’t shake the feeling that coming here had been a mistake, whatever Anapa had sworn about my willing participation in this “trial” being the only thing standing between my universe and certain destruction. At this point, I was having serious doubts about there even being a trial. Anapa had never lied to me before, but that didn’t mean much. Our history was more like a brochure than a textbook. I barely knew the guy. The god. Maybe he’d made it all up just to get me here. But why?
My universe had been near catastrophe time and time again in the past, but my sister Lex, who’d been at the center of the last save-the-universe struggle, hadn’t ever been approached by Anapa or any other Netjer threatening potential universal destruction. Why now?
It had to have something to do with Isfet and my connection to her. But why did that matter to the Netjers? They’d trapped her in Aaru at the inception of my universe, I knew that much. What I didn’t know was why. Were they afraid of her? Was that what this was all about?
I shook my head. It didn’t make any sense. All Isfet wanted was to protect my universe. It was self-defense, really, since the universe was technically her body.
I reached the armoire and turned, heading back toward the dresser, letting logic lead my thoughts. If Isfet protecting my universe was the thing the Netjers were trying to prevent, then that meant that, for whatever reason, the Netjers wanted to harm my universe.
I stopped dead, staring at the wall behind the dresser. “Holy shit,” I breathed. That was it. The Netjers needed to make sure that my universe couldn’t defend itself.
It was a terrifying realization. But it was the truth—it had be—which made the realization strangely comforting as well. I knew what I had to do now. I needed to find a way to get back to my universe and free Isfet, as soon as possible, no matter what. If I didn’t, then the Netjers would eventually come after my universe with malice in their hearts. They would attack us, and without Isfet free to defend us, we would lose. The logic didn’t lie.
“You’re going to wear a hole in the carpet if you keep at it like that,” Nik said.
I glanced at him, but I didn’t stop pacing. When I reached the dresser, I turned and headed back toward the armoire. “It’s not even real carpet,” I said. “It’s probably made of the same stuff as the dome was—Essence, or whatever you called it.” I reached the armoire and turned back to the dresser.
“Yeah, I know,” Nik said, moving to the edge of the bed. He swept his hair back with a hand, then stretched his neck, first one way, then the other. “So, what’s on your mind?”
I pressed my lips together, frustrated for the gazillionth time about that damn gag order Re and Apep put in place in my universe to keep anyone from talking about Isfet.
And then I stopped and turned to face Nik, eyes opening wide. I wasn’t in my universe anymore. Which meant there was no gag order, not here. For the first time ever, I could tell somebody about Isfet. I could tell somebody about everything I’d been dying—literally, sometimes—to share over the past few weeks.
“There’s something I have to tell you,” I said as I rushed over to Nik, sitting on the bed beside him and taking one of his hands in mine. “I’ve wanted to tell you about this for so long,” I said, the words tumbling out as I squeezed his hand. “So much has happened, so much insane, crazy shit—stuff I couldn’t talk about until now.”
Nik’s eyes searched mine. “Alright,” he said, “I’m listening.”
I took a deep breath. I was so excited to finally confide in someone that I was shaking. “It all started when I died . . .”
9
“So you see,” I said, finally winding down from the whole epic tale of my entanglement with Isfet, “she’s our only option. Whatever happens here, she’s the only one who can truly protect our universe. We have to get back home ASAP.” I shook my head, exhaling in frustration. “We never should’ve come in the first place, but I couldn’t see it then . . .” When Anapa first showed up in Rome, I’d been too preoccupied by the whole threat of our universe being severed to work through the truth of the matter. Now, it was clear as day.
“Wow,” Nik said, voice monotone and stare faraway. Slowly, he extricated his hand from mine and smoothed back his hair. His expression was absolutely unreadable.
“What? Do you think I’m wrong?” I studied his face, trying to read some hint of what he was feeling. Of what he was thinking. But those perfect, angular features were truly inscrutable. No raised eyebrow. No smirk or sneer. Not even a mischievous sparkle in his eye. Was he in shock?
Probably. I had just dumped a massive amount of holy shit–worthy information onto his lap.
I touched his shoulder gently. “Nik?”
After a few more seconds, he inhaled deeply and looked at me. “I think you’re right, Kat, but . . . it’s just a lot to take in,” he said. “I wish you hadn’t—” He fell silent, shaking his head.
I tilted my head to the side. “You wish I hadn’t what?”
He looked away, expression returning to that stony, inscrutable state. Finally, his lips parted and he breathed in to speak. But whatever it was that he wished I hadn’t would have to wait.
There was a whooshing sound, and we both looked to the empty wall where my bedroom door would have been. A circular opening was forming in its place.
Once the doorway was fully formed and about seven feet tall and nearly as wide, Anapa stepped through. He was carrying a stack of folded-up clothes, including blue jeans and a black leather coat and what looked a hell of a lot like my favorite pair of combat boots. Had he brought me my actual clothes? Or were these reproductions, too?
I eyed the bundle in his hands for a moment, but I couldn’t suppress the urge to glance at the doorway. It was so close. Freedom was just through there . . . and a universe away.
My longing for home must have shown on my face, because Anapa closed the doorway with a sweep of his hand. In a blink, it was gone.
I returned my focus to Anapa, placing one hand on my hip and cocking it to the side. “I wasn’t going to make a break for it,” I said, and I actually meant it.
I might not have been the queen of planning ahead, but even I could recognize the wisdom in scouting out the surroundings of my artfully disguised prison cell before I just ran out into gods knew what. This cell could’ve been in a bu
bble floating along through space for all I knew.
Anapa raised his eyebrows, just a little. “For your own sake, Katarina, I hope you speak the truth. It would be unwise . . .”
“Yeah, I’m aware.” I sent a meaningful look to the stack of clothes in his hands. “Are those for me?”
“Ah, yes.” Anapa stepped further into the room, making his way toward me. He held out the clothes in offering. “I thought you might be more comfortable in your usual attire.”
I took the stack from his hands, frowning. “Yeah, I will,” I said, itching to shed my slacks and blouse and don something normal. “Thanks.”
I chewed on my lower lip. First Anapa had gone to the trouble of creating a pretty damn perfect replica of my bedroom, and then he’d brought me my actual clothes. He’d traveled all the way back to my universe, rifled through the piles of clean-ish clothing on my bedroom floor, found a pretty good approximation of my usual outfit—from the looks of it, he’d even found my favorite pair of jeans—and then brought it all across multiple universes to me. To make me feel comfortable.
It was like he genuinely cared. Like he just might actually be on my side. Or, at least, not completely against me. My gut told me that was the case, but the circumstances suggested otherwise. Or was this how Stockholm Syndrome started?
I took a single step backward, eyeing Anapa and hugging my things to my chest. “What’s your angle?” I asked, eyes narrowing to speculative slits.
I wasn’t free to move about on my own, which made me a prisoner. That was very clear. But as far as the accommodations went, I was being treated like a guest. So, which was it? Because it couldn’t be both.
Anapa stared at me for a few seconds, then looked to Nik, who was standing on the opposite side of the bed, but he quickly returned his attention to me. “My angle?” He shook his head. “I’m afraid I don’t—”
“Uh-uh.” I took another backward step. “Don’t play dumb, Anapa. You know exactly what I mean, so what’s the deal? Where’s your loyalty—with me or with the High Council?” After a brief pause, I added, “What’s the outcome you’re pulling for?”
“I . . .” Anapa turned away from me and made that increasingly familiar hand gesture toward the wall, creating a doorway. “I should leave you to change,” he said, already walking toward the opening.
“Anapa, please,” I blurted, “wait!”
“I’ll return in a few minutes,” he said, ignoring my pleas.
And then he was gone, and the doorway disappeared a few seconds later.
I exhaled in a breathy, humorless laugh. Fat lot of good that had done. I was just as clueless as ever and even more confused. I glanced down at the clothes in my arms. But at least I would look good when I met the High Council. At least I would look like me.
10
“Bummer he didn’t bring anything for you,” I told Nik. I was sitting on the foot of the bed, bent over to tie the laces of my boots.
Shortly after Anapa left, Nik had returned to the armchair in the corner. He now sat with his elbows propped up on the chair’s arms, his fingers steepled together in front of his chin. Not that he needed different clothes. He looked damn good in that suit; he just didn’t look like him.
“I’ll survive,” Nik said, lowering his hands to grip the ends of the chair’s arms once more.
I stared at him, studying his familiar features in an attempt to gauge his current state of mind. I’d found myself doing that a lot here. But once again, I came up empty.
“What’s up with you?” I asked.
Nik’s fingertips dug into the upholstery. “What do you mean?”
I finished with my bootlaces and sat up straight, patting my hands on my knees. “I don’t know. You just seem . . . different, I guess. Angry, or something.” Cold, was more like it. “Did the things I told you—”
“I’m fine.”
I held up my hands to shield myself from his chilly tone. “Alright. Noted.” I laughed under my breath. “Forget I said anything.”
“You got it.”
I pointed at him. “See. That’s exactly what I mean. You’re acting weird—all cold and quiet and . . . and weird.”
Nik raised a single, pierced eyebrow. “Sorry, Kitty Kat. I’ve just got a lot to think about.” His lip quirked into a faint smirk. “Don’t worry about me. You’ve got your own shit to deal with.”
I narrowed my eyes, scrutinizing his face. Nik was sorry? He’d never apologized for his behavior before, not even when he broke my hand with his stupid At wall, or after, when he’d nearly killed me. Not even when he’d used his myriad of sheut powers to cloud my mind in an attempt to make me comply with his wishes.
Something was majorly off with him—more than just him being overwhelmed by our current predicament—but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Was Re still in control, just playing it off that he was letting Nik drive?
I dismissed the thought. It was impossible. In Nik’s case, his eyes truly were windows to his soul—specifically, to which soul was in charge. Pale blue for Nik, moonstone white for Re. It was practically a law of physics.
My stomach groaned with hunger. Absently, I rubbed the back of my neck, angling my head first one way, then the other to stretch the aching muscles. “Uh . . . I’m starving. I hope Anapa brings us something to eat before the trial. I think I’m getting a hunger headache.”
Something that looked a hell of a lot like fear flashed in Nik’s pale eyes, and I froze, intrigued by the reaction. It was the most emotion he’d shown in hours. It disappeared almost as quickly as it showed up, making me second-guess whether I’d seen it at all.
Nik leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands together. “Maybe they want you hungry . . . weakened. Might be part of their strategy to lower your defenses.”
I frowned, thinking his thoughts weren’t totally unfounded. “I wouldn’t be surprised,” I said, letting my hand fall back into my lap. My lip curled into a slight sneer. “I’m already not a fan of this High Council. They sound like a bunch of total douche-nozzles…”
At the sound of that increasingly familiar crackle and whoosh, I stood and turned to face the doorless wall. An opening appeared seconds later, and Anapa walked into the room, accompanied by an unfamiliar Netjer.
I looked at the new Netjer, scanning him from head to toe, then back up. I shifted my focus back to Anapa, raising my eyebrows. “Who is this?” I asked, pointing to the newcomer with my chin.
Anapa glanced at the other Netjer sidelong, only for a moment. “This is Sian. He is here to ensure your safe escort to the trial chamber.”
The trial chamber—so the “trial” was real, after all. Not that that clarified much of anything.
I gulped. My throat felt dry, thanks to the hours I’d gone without access to any food or water. “I’m starving,” I said, succumbing to the sudden urge to put off the trial for as long as possible. “I don’t know how long you plan on keeping me here, but you’re going to have to feed me at some point, and water is pretty necessary for us earthlings.”
Anapa bowed his head. “Of course. I’ll see what I can do.” As he raised his head, I caught the meaningful glance he sent Sian’s way. There was warning in his eyes. He didn’t trust the other Netjer.
I frowned, forcing a quiet “Thanks.” I would have to watch what I said around this new Netjer.
“Come,” Sian said. It was the first time I’d heard him speak. His voice was smooth like velvet and neither high nor low, fitting his androgynous appearance. Had Anapa not referred to him as a “he,” I wouldn’t have been able to peg his sex. “The High Council is ready for you, and it is not good to keep them waiting.” He started for the open doorway, clearly expecting me to follow.
I looked at Anapa, then at Nik, and when neither offered me any guidance, I turned and followed Sian. Nik fell in step behind me, and a quick glance over my shoulder told me Anapa was taking up the rear.
The doorway led into a long, wide hallway with polis
hed pale marble floors and white walls. They were blank, devoid of any doors or windows, but there were benches made of dark wood every dozen feet or so. At the end of the hallway was a single door—the traditional kind, made of wood. Overall, the hallway had a very courthouse vibe, which seemed appropriate . . . but also strange, considering the hallway was in another universe.
When Sian reached the door at the end of the hallway, he gripped the handle and pulled it open, giving me a view of what lay beyond.
My eyes widened as I stepped through the doorway.
The hallway’s appearance made a lot more sense, what with the very legitimate-looking courtroom I’d just entered. It was like something straight out of a movie, with only slight modifications. Row after row of wooden benches filled up the back half of the room, seating for anybody who wanted to watch the proceedings, and a single table with several chairs was set up beyond the benches.
At the front of the room, there was a raised dais for the judge, or in this case the judges, like you would see at a congressional hearing. There were nine chairs in total, eight filled by Netjers, absolutely still and watching me with unblinking eyes, though the center seat—a throne by pretty much any definition—was empty. The Netjer High Council, live and in technicolor and scary as all hell.
Gulp.
Needing some way to redirect my anxious energy, I stuffed my hands into the pockets of my leather coat. The second my fingers closed around a very familiar velvet drawstring bag, my heart gave an excited thud-thump. My tarot cards. Anapa had brought them with my clothes.
The shock must have shown on my face, and I made an effort to school my features. Was this a sign that Anapa was actually trying to help me? Was this his response to my demand that he tell me whose side he was really on? I clung onto the hope that despite the fact that he’d dragged me into this mess, he had my back. That maybe, just maybe, I could trust him. He hadn’t lied about there being a trial, after all . . .
Judgement (Kat Dubois Chronicles Book 5) Page 6
