“You weren’t supposed to be here!”
“And yet, here I am.”
Set’s countenance changed abruptly, becoming mild and pleasant. “Where is my daughter? In the bedroom, perhaps? Were you in there with her, helping the prophecy—my prophecy—along? I wouldn’t have expected to find you wearing so—”
“Enough!” Marcus barked. “It’s not your prophecy.”
Set laughed joyously. “It’s as much mine as it is yours. Or hers. Remember that, Heru.” He stepped further into the apartment, looking around the living room with apt interest. “Does she know about you? I’m sure you’ll tell her everything you can to paint me the evil monster, if you haven’t already. But try not to omit your own morbid colors—red and black, blood and death—that’s what you are, cousin. It’s what you’ll always be.”
“I am what I’ve always been,” Marcus said coldly. “And if you’d just accept what you are, we could be out of this mess. You can end this, cousin, just give up your god delusions.”
“They are not delusions!” Set roared.
I cringed—there was no way the neighbors wouldn’t call the cops after hearing that. I glanced at one of the bodies on the floor by Marcus, a puddle of blood slowly expanding around him, and swallowed a sudden rush of bile. I will not throw up! My breath started coming faster, and I choked on a sob. Calm down, damn it! But the bodies were still out there, as was Set. What will he do to me if he gets through Marcus?
Set turned and marched toward the front door. “I know you, cousin. You’re still trying to find a way to sidestep the prophecy. It will happen. She will choose and, one way or another, she will obey. Now, I must depart before those pesky little law enforcers arrive, as I’m certain they will. I’m sure that once they leave, you can find some pleasant diversion to occupy your … minds … and to help my prophecy along. Goodnight, Heru.” He raised his voice and called toward the bedroom, “Goodnight, Daughter!”
After Set had been gone for at least a minute, Marcus said, “You can come out, Lex. I know you watched … and listened.”
He studied me closely as I emerged from the bedroom. I wasn’t sure if he was waiting for me to run screaming, to faint, or to throw up, but he seemed surprised by what he saw.
“I’ve never seen a real dead person before,” I said numbly. I stopped as my feet reached the nearest one and gazed down at him. It was the short man with his grossly twisted neck.
Marcus moved closer to me, but halted when I held up my hand. “No. I need a moment.”
His hands—his lethal, sensual hands—rose in a momentary display of supplication before falling to his sides. Would I finally understand him, understand what he was, like he’d demanded on our date? Would I understand him, and toss him away in disgust?
When I finally spoke, my voice sounded hollow, as though the inside of my body had been carved into a living cavern. “Who were they? Did they have families? Wives? Children? Did you just destroy dozens of people’s lives?” It was the wrong thing to say.
Moving more quickly than a regular human, Marcus rushed me from behind and forced me to my knees with him. My bones banged onto the wood floor, and I knew I would bruise, at least for a few hours.
“Wha—”
“Turn his head. Look at the back of his neck, Lex,” Marcus ordered angrily.
“No! I don’t want to touch him!” I tried to rise, but Marcus’s strength far surpassed mine and his hold on my arms was absolute.
“Do it,” he growled.
I started to shake, one of my tell-tale precursors to ugly, heaving sobs.
“Before the police arrive, preferably,” Marcus urged, tightening his grip. “I doubt they’d take kindly to you messing with their crime scene.”
My throat clenched involuntarily as I reached toward the man’s unnaturally bent neck. I had to adjust his head to a more normal position in order to see the tattoo. In thick, black ink, the back of the man’s neck was marked with the pointy-eared, forked-tailed Set-animal. I pulled away like I’d been burned. Mike … he’d had the same tattoo … in the same place. With a chilly wash of realization, I knew with absolute certainty that Set, my father, had been the man urging Mike to drug me … to rape me. But, why?
“These men were from Set’s cult,” Marcus explained, releasing me so I could stand. I didn’t.
Marcus had just fought six men devoted to my psychopathic father, and defeated them easily. I had no idea what methods Set would use to ensure my obedience, but considering my stubbornness, I doubted the process would be pleasant. I did not doubt, however, that Set could find some way to force me to obey. I had no romantic delusions about my ability to withstand physical torture.
I leaned back against Marcus, finally noticing how entangled we were. My knees were between his, my socked feet between his ankles. He wrapped his arms around my middle, holding me tightly against him. Unexpectedly, a sob bubbled up from my chest, closely followed by another, and another. I don’t want this life. I don’t want dead bodies in my home, or a psychotic father. I don’t want to decide the fate of humanity. Tears streamed down my face as tremors racked my body. I can’t do this. I’m not strong enough. I want things to go back to the way they were. I don’t want this … I don’t want this … I don’t want this!
“I know, Lex … I know,” Marcus said, and I realized I’d been repeating my final thought aloud. He still held me, reminding me that I wasn’t alone. “We have to go. We can’t stay here … the police will be here soon.”
I nodded, still sniffling and shaking, and Marcus helped me up to my feet. “Thora,” I managed to mumble.
Miraculously, Marcus understood. Within minutes, we had my cat tucked into her plastic carrier, I’d thrown a few essential items into my messenger bag with my computer, and we were hustling down the stairwell. In the distance, sirens wailed. We were out the back door and disappearing down the street just as they pulled up to my building.
Am I a criminal now? Will they think I killed those men? Should I go to the police station? It wasn’t like I’d done anything wrong, but Marcus … I couldn’t tell the police that Marcus had killed six people to protect me from my insane, inhuman—as in, of a different species—father. Should I call someone? But there was no one I could call, not really. Is this my life now?
As we sped away, I watched the red and blue police lights fade into the distance in the side mirror. All I could think was, only the guilty run.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
There & Gone
Life, I was quickly learning, is very similar to war. The latter, it has been said, is filled with years and years of relentless boredom, routine, and monotony, interspersed with brief moments of sheer terror. In the case of life, the boredom is broken up by spikes of excitement morphing from joy to despair, hatred to love, and from passion to disgust. I had been in the boredom phase for the first twenty-four years of my life. I wasn’t anymore.
Unfortunately, life and war decided to converge and throw everything they had at me all at once. I had more excitement than I knew what to do with. My father was a psychotic, evil megalomaniac, an ancient prophecy placed the fate of humans and Nejerets in my hands, and I was falling for an ancient and volatile god-inspiring man. The life I’d worked so hard for was disintegrating all around me. I didn’t think things could get any worse.
“So … am I right in assuming this is the place you mentioned at dinner the other night? Your line’s, um, compound?” I asked. My voice felt appropriately unused—neither Marcus nor I had broken the thick silence since leaving my apartment, and we’d been in the car together for over two hours.
“Yes.” Unlike mine, his voice was perfect—smooth as silk and deep as the ocean.
I watched classically constructed stone and brick buildings pass by my window. If I hadn’t known better, I would have thought we’d entered a nearly abandoned, Ivy League college campus. “And we’re here because … ?”
“You’ll be staying here until we leave for the excavation.�
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“You want me to stay here for … for four months?” I spluttered. “I don’t have a car … the university’s two hours and a ferry ride away … how will I get there? How will I help with the excavation prep? And Jesus, Marcus … don’t we need to talk to the police about what happened in my apartment?”
“I’ll take care of it.”
I made a rough sound, part snort, part laugh. “What about my life?”
Marcus stopped the car in the roundabout driveway of an enormous, chateau-like building constructed from pale gray stone. “This is your life now,” he told me.
“And if I don’t want it to be?” I asked through gritted teeth as I glared out the window. I was acting like a bratty teenager—something that had been happening way too often lately—but I didn’t care. I figured the prophesied messiah of an entire species deserved a little leeway.
Marcus reached out and clenched my jaw in his hand, turning my face toward him. “Grow up, Lex. You don’t have the luxury of an independent life anymore. You are our only chance. You are the future of our people. You are so much more than this childish façade.” His touch softened, turning tender, but his eyes retained their fierce golden glow. “I’ve seen what’s inside you … when you work, when you flirt, when you kiss … you’re a woman with the ferocity and cunning of a lioness. We need you to be that woman … that Lex.”
Wide-eyed, I stared at him.
“Now, you may be happy to hear we’re moving The Pit to one of the meeting rooms in the main house. You’ll still be an active participant in the excavation and its planning, but you won’t have to dodge assassination and kidnapping attempts like you would on campus.”
My eyes narrowed. “Assassination attempts? Who—”
“There is a small offshoot of our kind that believes Nuin’s prophecy could be averted by ending your life.”
“I guess they skipped the part of the prophecy where my death is the death of the world,” I grumbled.
“So it would seem,” he agreed. Marcus exited the car and joined me on the passenger side to help me out. “Come. Carlisle’s staff will take your cat and bag up to your suite. There are some matters we must attend to before—” He seemed to catch himself.
“Before what?”
“Nothing,” he said, dismissing my question. “It’s unimportant.” But I recognized the look in his eyes as he turned away—pain, sorrow. He was lying to me; whatever he was withholding was very important.
Swallowing my desperate urge to badger Marcus until he enlightened me, I walked beside him into the exquisite building. For once, he didn’t hold my hand.
After we walked down a wide hallway, we entered an expansive, modernly furnished room in the back corner of the enormous home. The couches and chairs were all upholstered in various shades of black, gray, and white, and the square coffee table appeared to be a solid slab of polished granite. Black and white prints of people’s faces and other, more sensual body parts decorated the walls, and there was an elaborate fireplace carved from some white-veined, black stone on the far wall. Carlisle, Dominic, Josh, and Neffe awaited us in the room, along with two pairs of unfamiliar men and women. All eight people rose and instantly fell to their knees with bowed heads. “I live to serve, Meswett. My life is yours, Meswett, may you live forever,” they intoned as one.
Meswett … girl-child, I translated in my head. It was from Nuin’s prophecy—the girl-child of Set, the girl-child of Ivan. Even Neffe was kneeling in submission. My mouth grew instantly parched, my cheeks heated. What am I supposed to do?
Marcus leaned in close to me and whispered, “I accept your life and service, Nejerets. May I prove worthy. Rise.”
I repeated his words with numb clarity, sounding cold and resolute. All eight Nejerets rose when I commanded it, and watched me with guarded expressions. “Please, sit,” I said upon realizing why they were still standing. They did, though they didn’t stop staring at me. I shot a furious glare at Marcus. He should have warned me!
He smiled, a sad twist of his lips, and spoke to the group. “As you all know, the Meswett, Alexandra, will be staying here until we depart for Kemet,” he said, using the ancient Egyptians’ name for their homeland in lieu of the western world’s modern label.
After all eight Nejeret nodded in acquiescence, Marcus faced me. “This group constitutes the core of your guard.”
“My … guard?” I repeated, astonished. And then, when I didn’t think my world could revert any further into an archaic, fantastical realm, Marcus explained each guardsman’s role.
“Each Nejeret present is of my line, more or less. I trust them above all others, and they will protect you with their lives. On that, you have my word.” Marcus held his hand out toward the man and woman seated furthest left in the room, on a charcoal suede couch. “Heimdall and Saga,” he said, apparently telling me their names. Both were tall and slender with crystal-blue eyes and fair coloring. I would’ve wagered my trivial savings account balance that they were siblings, if not twins. “They are two of the most talented seers alive. At least one of them will be scouring your potential futures for danger at all times.” He paused and divided a sharp, agitated look between them. “Which one of you should be doing right now. Why is neither of you in the At?”
Heimdall bowed his head in deference. “Apologies, Father … apologies, Meswett. We have been having difficulty—”
“—finding her future in the At,” Saga said, finishing his explanation fluidly. “It’s being hidden by someone … perhaps her father?”
“No,” Marcus said thoughtfully. “It’s not Set. She was hidden from him as well. Lex”—he looked at me—“you aren’t, by any chance, concealing your future in the At, are you?”
Baffled, I shook my head. “Not that I know of.” After a hesitant pause, I said, “But … is it possible to conceal myself without meaning to?”
“Damn it, Lex,” Marcus growled, earning a chorus of hisses from the women and an admonishing “Heru!” from Dominic. Appeasing them, Marcus modified his statement, though his eyes sparkled with irritation. “Meswett, if anyone could do such a thing, I have no doubt it would be you. You might just bring Nuin back from the dead and save us all the trouble of dealing with his inconvenient prophecy.” He took a deep breath.
“Heimdall and Saga will work with you on removing whatever kind of cloak you’ve created. Vali and Sandra,” Marcus said, motioning toward a muscular man and svelte woman on the opposite side of the room from Heimdall and Saga, “will take turns heading your bodyguards. Don’t let Sandra’s size fool you—she’s as vicious and clever a warrior as ever has lived.”
“Thank you, Grandfather,” the slight woman said. Pale, dark-haired, and pretty, she had a childlike quality to her features.
“When I’m away, Carlisle runs the entire Heru compound, including the guards covering the perimeter and grounds. If you intend to leave this building, you must let him know.” Marcus stepped in front of me, holding my stubborn gaze with his own. “I mean it, Le—Meswett. You may leave the main house and explore the grounds and other buildings as you wish, but you will tell Carlisle first. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Heru,” I said, and he flinched.
His eyes seemed to plead with me to understand … to forgive. “Neffe and Josh will remain in your vicinity whenever their excavation duties allow. Dominic has volunteered to be your chief bodyguard and attendant. He will keep a room adjoining yours and remain near you at all times. Anything you need, you can get through him.”
It was utterly insane … all of it. I was overwhelmed with the sudden significance of my existence and my position among my people. I didn’t ask for it. I didn’t want it. Two weeks earlier, I had been Alexandra Larson, archaeologist, sperm donor baby, and possible lunatic. Two days earlier, I’d been Alexandra Larson Ivanov, archaeologist, Nejerette, and Marcus Bahur’s potential love interest. But those had all been eclipsed by my current identity—Alexandra, Meswett, prophesied savior of the Nejerets. Who would I
become next? What would I become?
“And you?” I asked the tall, striking man who held my heart in his deadly hand. “What’s your role?”
“I am Heru,” he stated simply, his three words squeezing my heart until it ruptured.
“Are you?” Overwhelming bitterness and disappointment colored my next words. “My apologies, I mistook you for someone else—for a man. I won’t make the same mistake again, Heru.” With each syllable, traces of my Marcus chipped away, revealing the arrogance and coldness—the blood and death—of Heru. I could no longer tell if my Marcus had ever really existed.
I cleared my throat, a vain attempt to shove away my heartbreak—my desire to cry—and turned away from him. Blinking away tears, I said, “I thank you all for your service, and I look forward to getting to know each of you better. Now, if it’s not too much trouble, I’d like to rest for a few hours. It’s been a long night.”
Dominic earned my instant and immutable love when he rushed to my side, saying, “I’ll show you to your suite, Meswett.” He draped a comforting arm around my shoulders and hustled me from the room. I wasn’t far enough away, or they didn’t speak quietly enough, when the argument started.
“What the hell are you doing?” Neffe hissed.
“What must be done,” came Marcus’s reply.
“You are trying to go around it … to void it with your idiocy! You cannot stop it from happening! You cannot prevent her from being the Meswett by pretending!” she yelled. “It’s too late!” The last was a shriek worthy of a banshee.
Marcus’s cold voice responded like a whiplash, “Remember your place, Daughter!”
“And you remember yours, Father! She is already too far gone for what you’re about to do. It won’t work! And you—I’ve never seen you so … so … affected. You’re in deeper than she is! For her sake, if not for yours, don’t do this! Mark my words, Heru,” Neffe said, spitting her father’s name like a curse, “you will ruin us all if you persist with this charade.”
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