Carlisle brought the electric cart to a halt in the compound’s enormous warehouse of a garage. It wasn’t far from the main house as the crow flies, but the route to get there was circuitous, and the cart wasn’t the speediest four-wheeled creation.
I’d been clenching my teeth so hard that my jaw groaned when I finally spoke again. “There’s a dungeon below the garage?”
“Can you think of a better location?”
“I—” Was any location a good location for a dungeon? “Well, no,” I admitted.
Carlisle scooted out of the driver’s seat and rounded the front of the cart, stopping on my side. “Please, Meswett …” He held his arm out toward the back wall. “It’s just this way.”
“Have they explained their intentions?” Nik asked as we wove between vehicles of all sizes parked in orderly rows and closed in on a metal fire door painted an ashen gray.
I blew out a breath. This whole thing felt surreal.
“So far as I know,” Carlisle said, “they have not explained their reason for being here.” He fit a silver key into the lock and turned the handle, pushing the door inward to reveal a short hallway with another door at the end.
This new door was also metal, but the similarity ended there. It was shiny and paint-free, had no visible hinges, locks, knobs, or handles, and was paired with a small screen in the wall immediately to the right. Some sort of high-tech biometric scanner, I assumed.
Carlisle stepped up to the screen in the wall by the second door. He stared at it for a few seconds, saying nothing.
“Identity confirmed—Carlisle Walker the Third.” The voice was vaguely artificial, but still pleasant. “Passcode, please.”
“Five-three-eight-U-C-L,” he said clearly.
“Voice recognized. Passcode confirmed.”
The door slid open, revealing a compact elevator car with stainless steel everything. We loaded in and, as soon as the door slid shut, started descending.
“So,” I said, drawing out the word. I felt like I was shouting in the deafening quiet. Who knew I’d ever wish for elevator music? “Are there any other secret elevators hidden around the compound?”
“Not at present, Meswett,” Carlisle said, clasping his hands behind his back. “Though there is one on the outside, in case an emergency evacuation is necessitated. It links to a system of tunnels under the compound. The entry security for that elevator is much stronger, of course.”
“Of course,” I said dryly.
Our descent was quick and ended not with a ding, but with a gentle shush as the door opened. Carlisle led us into a hallway that was nothing like what I’d expected. Plaster coated the walls and the arched ceiling, friezes faintly engraved and painted into the surfaces to display hieroglyphs and figures in a notably Egyptian style. The color palette, limited to grays and silver, gave the wall decoration a distinctly modern bent. It was the perfect marriage of ancient Egypt and Marcus’s personal stylistic taste, and it was so unexpected that it knocked me temporarily speechless.
Not Nik, though. He whistled. “Well, this is interesting …”
“Heru has always taken comfort in surrounding himself with reminders of his home.”
As we made our way down the hallway, I studied the scenes depicted on the walls. Most made little sense to me, though I was certain every detail had been chosen purposefully and held deep significance to Marcus. He never said, did, or created anything without purpose.
“What stories do the friezes tell?” I asked, eyes scanning the images. Yes, I was avoiding the confrontation with Genevieve and Carson. And yes, I knew it was inevitable. But delaying it just a smidgen longer was so very tempting. I couldn’t resist.
“They contain our history.” Carlisle paused and waved his hand over a scene on the left side of the hallway. “This one in particular is a vignette of Heru’s childhood growing up in the Netjer-At Oasis.” It was a beautiful image, with buildings in shimmering silver in the background and two children standing on either side of a noble-looking ancient Egyptian woman. All three were staring up at a glorious male figure, who dwarfed them.
“Mut,” Nik said softly, brushing his fingertips over the depiction of the woman. There was fondness in his voice, and sorrow.
I rested my hand on his arm and studied his features. An aching sense of loss was painted across his face, transforming him from tough ancient being to little boy in an instant. “Your grandmother?”
When he nodded, I returned my attention to the graceful figure—Marcus and Aset’s human mother.
“She was an incredible woman. So warm and giving, but also strong enough to stand up to Osiris when necessary.” He let out a whisper of a laugh. “Their marriage was arranged by Nuin, but the way everyone told it, grandfather never minded one bit.”
“Marcus never talks about her,” I said, my voice hushed.
“I’m not surprised.” Nik turned and draped an arm over my shoulder. “Don’t take it personally, Lex. Her death—it destroyed him. He spent decades shying away from mortals to keep himself from feeling that way again.” He glanced at me, sympathy filling the pale blue depths of his eyes. “Immortality takes a while to get used to. Watching beloved humans die … it’s not easy, not for any of us. You’ll see.” Though his words carried the promise of terrible pain, his open expression told me he’d be there to help me through it.
I offered him a weak smile and a reluctant nod, then turned to Carlisle. “Alright, let’s get this over with, shall we?” Facing traitorous Carson and Genevieve would be way better than thinking about the inevitable day when my human parents would die … and my sister …
Anything would be better than thinking about that.
A few minutes and several turns down different hallways later, we reached what appeared to be a dead end. Like the other walls, the one at the end of the corridor was covered in gleaming silver hieroglyphs. But unlike the other walls, this one contained only a single, large image—a human male, limbs extended Vitruvian-man style. The figure still appeared Egyptian, stylistically, but the image was far more gruesome than any ancient Egyptian art I’d ever seen. The man appeared to have knives stabbed into his feet and wrists, holding his limbs in place, and where his eyes should have been were nothing but gaping black holes.
I tilted my head to the side, watching as Carlisle pushed on the figure. It depressed, sinking into the wall, and a moment later, the entire wall slid to the side, revealing a wrought iron gate.
“That last image was rather unique,” I said to Nik while we waited for Carlisle to unlock the gate.
Nik nodded slowly. “It’s Marcus—or, Heru.”
I gaped at him.
Nik glanced at me sidelong. “That’s how we found him, Mother and I, when Apep-Set jumped him back during the whole Council succession thing—you know, ‘The Contendings of Horus and Seth’ …”
My eyes bulged. Set—or rather, Apep—had done that to Marcus? “At least that psycho’s locked away for good,” I said, crossing my arms and shaking my head. About a month ago, Nik had sealed Apep’s sickly soul in a prison of At about the size of a baseball, and until my kids were born and came into their godly power, nobody else on this earth but Nik could let Apep out. Maybe I’d have felt a little more comfortable if we still had possession of the Apep orb, but we didn’t. Because Carson stole it. The bastard.
“Maybe Carson’s here to return the orb.” Nik laughed under his breath. “I bet he grovels real nice.”
“Guess we’re about to find out,” I said as Carlisle pushed the wrought iron gate open. I took a deep breath, then followed him down the stairs.
He led us into a fairly authentic dungeon setting. The dingy, rough-hewn stone walls, iron-barred cells, and pervasive chill in the air seemed both ridiculously out of place and laughably expected. But then, dungeons like this had been the way of things for millennia for Marcus; I supposed it didn’t make sense for him to change his ways now just because the world had gone ahead and changed all around him.
“The cell at the end,” Carlisle said, though the direction was unnecessary. Dominic and a full retinue of guards crowded the space at the end of the dungeon.
Dominic spotted us and hurried our way.
“What have they told you?” I asked my half-brother, rushing ahead to meet him.
“Nothing.” His dark eyes met mine, and he combed his long fingers through his night-black hair, slicking the lengthy strands back. His face was tense, his irritation clear, making his sharp features even more angular. “Where is Marcus?” he asked, his French accent heavier than usual.
“With Tarset.”
“Is she—”
“She’s still alive. On life support, but still with us.” I cleared my throat. “Neffe seems hopeful.”
“Well, that is something, at least.” With a hand on my lower back, Dominic guided me toward the cell at the end. “Gen demanded to speak to Marcus, but hopefully you will be good enough.”
I snorted. Not likely, considering Genevieve’s none-too-hidden feelings toward Marcus. Not that her jealousy meant she didn’t like me, exactly. At least, not that I was aware of—or had been aware of before she’d gone turncoat. It was just that she’d been carrying a torch for Marcus for years, and if she wanted to talk to him, well, she wanted to talk to him.
“Also,” Dominic said when we reached the iron-barred cell door, “Carson is injured.”
I stared through the bars into the dimly lit cell. Within, Genevieve was huddled on her knees on the floor, Carson curled into the fetal position, his head resting on her lap. Blood soaked her lilac tunic and white leggings, as well as Carson’s blue T-shirt. My stomach twisted at the sight; it had been sensitive lately, an early gift from the twins.
“Injured, indeed,” I said quietly, crossing my arms.
Genevieve’s head shot up at the sound of my voice, and she speared me with bloodshot eyes. “He needs a doctor! Where’s Neffe or—”
“She’s busy,” I said. I glanced at Dominic, hesitant to dismiss aid outright. “How bad is it?” After everything Carson had done, I really didn’t mind him being in pain for a while. But that didn’t mean I wanted him to die.
“Gunshot to the shoulder,” Dominic said with a lazy shrug. “He has lost some blood, but he will live.”
“Okay.” I flashed Genevieve a grim, humorless smile. “He’ll have to wait. Why did you come here?”
“To warn Marcus …” She trailed off, shaking her head. “I want to see him.”
“You think you want to see him,” I said, “but trust me, Gen, you don’t.”
“But—”
“You came back here thinking … what? That things would go right back to the way they were? That he’d still love you like a little sister?” I took a step closer to the cell door, stopping when Dominic placed a hand on my shoulder, holding me just out of arm’s reach from the bars. “After everything you’ve done, Gen, after all the betrayal, did you really think he’d forgive you?” I leaned forward. “Tell me why you’re here. Prove to me—to Marcus—that there’s a reason he should still give a damn about you.”
Genevieve’s resolve was wavering; it was written all over her face.
“Did you really come here to warn Marcus?” I asked. “About what? Are we in danger?” I would do anything to protect my twins—anything. Even kick another mother when she was down. “Is Kat in danger?”
Genevieve’s love for her daughter had always been her weakness. Kat was her whole world and, in a twisted way, had been her reason for betraying Marcus and the Council of Seven.
She hung her head, her limp chestnut waves falling around her face like a curtain. “Apep …” She spoke so quietly that without my heightened sense of hearing, I wouldn’t have heard her. “Someone released him. He’s free.”
3
Safe & Sound
The last time I saw Apep, the last time I actually spoke to him, was in the Nejeret Oasis a little over a month ago. He’d been possessing Marcus, dead set on killing me to release Re’s borrowed sheut, a source of unimaginable godlike power. The time before that had also been at the Oasis, just about four thousand years earlier. He’d been possessing Nuin’s daughter, Ankhesenpepi, and was laughing as I lost control of Re’s sheut, destroying the Oasis and nearly killing everyone living there in the process. And the time before that, he tried to tear out my heart to send a message to Nuin but settled for shattering nearly every bone in my foot instead. The time before that, he shot me. And the time before that, he tortured me for months in the At. On and on, he never let up. He never relented.
And he never would, not so long as he was free. Which, according to Genevieve, he was.
After Genevieve dropped the bomb, there was a collective gasp. A full second of what-did-she-just-say and did-I-hear-that-right.
Then the dungeon exploded with sound. Voices and footsteps surrounded me as the guards circled up. It was organized chaos at best, with me at the eye of the storm.
I covered my ears and ducked my head, huddling in on myself.
This couldn’t be happening. Apep’s unhinged soul couldn’t be free from its At prison. It was about as close to impossible as things came in our crazy world. Nik was the only person currently alive with a sheut, a mere shadow of the one I’d borrowed from Re, allowing him to manipulate solidified At, the very fabric of space and time. He was the only person capable of releasing Apep. But he would never, ever do such a thing.
And even if I’d misjudged Nik’s character and convictions horribly, he shared his body with the soul of Apep’s opposite, Re, the Netjer who’d sacrificed his own life and power for the mere chance that Apep might be stopped. There was no way Re would’ve let Nik release Apep. There was no way Apep could be free.
Because if he was, I’d never be safe again.
Apep was a Netjer, a true god of which we were diluted imitations in comparison. He was one of the two original powers in this universe, alongside Re, and together, the two had created everything. Even Apep’s disembodied soul was frighteningly powerful, possessing the ability to take over another being’s body. It was what he’d done to my biological father, Set, and what Re had done to Nik. Only unlike Re, Apep didn’t share; he’d wrested control of Set’s body from its rightful owner and had worn his skin for thousands of years like a favorite suit. The things Apep had done to me, masquerading as my father … the ways he’d broken me …
All the noise in the dungeon, the moving bodies, the possibility that the impossible had happened—it was too much. I gasped for breath, my lungs desperate to suck in all of the oxygen in the dank room. My head spun, and I squeezed my eyes shut to steady the tilt-a-whirl the world had become.
Apep … he can’t be free …
… I can’t go through this again …
… I can’t fight him again …
As quickly as the cacophony all around me began, it cut off.
“Lex …” Dominic’s voice cut through my rising panic, his arm curling around my shoulders. “You are alright, sister.”
I whimpered.
He squeezed my shoulders. “You are safe.”
Nik’s voice joined his, close and right in front of me. “You are, Lex. You’re safe.”
Eyes squeezed shut, I shook my head vehemently. I hugged my middle as if that measly effort might protect my children.
“You’re safe,” Nik repeated, his tone even, soothing. “I promise, Lex. Open your eyes and see. Apep can’t get to you now. Nobody can.”
I cracked an eyelid open. Nik’s face was the first thing I saw, his pale blue eyes locked on mine.
Slowly, cautiously, I opened my eyes the rest of the way and straightened to peer around. The Nejerets guards had settled into their defensive postures in a ring around me, but I viewed them through a shimmering cloak of solidified, crystalline At. I followed it upwards with my eyes, where it arched overhead into our own private little dome.
On my next inhale, I found I was able to breathe a little easier. Apep wouldn’t get to me to
day. More importantly, he wouldn’t get to either of my children, either.
“Thanks,” I said.
Nik nodded once, straightening to his full height.
“So, what do we do now?” I glanced around, gesturing to the otherworldly dome with one hand. “It’s not like I can stay in here until the twins are born, because clearly even a solid wall of At won’t keep us safe …”
While I spoke, the color faded from Nik’s eyes until his irises resembled moonstones, a perfect match to the At surrounding us. “What you say is true, my Alexandra,” Nik said. Or, rather, Re said, using Nik’s lips and teeth and tongue to form the words.
Re-Nik raised his hand and brushed the backs of his knuckles over my cheek. “We had wondered how it would come to pass, but it seems so obvious now that the Kin finding a way to free Apep would be the cause.”
I stared at him, my eyebrows drawn together. “What are you talking about? You wondered how what would come to pass?”
During my time in Old Kingdom Egypt, when Re had been residing in his former host, Nuin, I’d had plenty of practice wading through his half-answers and vague explanations. And yet Re was still as confounding as ever. I’d all but given up on attempting to understand the murky motivations behind everything he’d done during his time on earth, let alone his time before it. He was a Netjer, a god, and he operated on an entirely different plane of existence. But he had my trust, unequivocally. In his own odd, godly way, he’d earned it.
Which is why I didn’t freak out when Re-Nik didn’t answer my questions, only stared at me with those secretive eyes.
“Okay …” I took a deep breath through my nose. “Next question—what do we do now? Apep’s going to come after me—after the twins—isn’t he?”
Re-Nik nodded slowly. “Without a doubt.”
When it became apparent that those three words were all he intended to say, I ground my teeth together. He knew more, that much was clear. And while it drove me nuts that he wouldn’t share, experience told me that he was holding back for a reason. Probably some preservation-of-the-timeline, fate-saving reason. Fine. I could deal with that. For now.
Ricochet Through Time (Echo Trilogy Book 3) Page 2
