Time Anomaly: A Time Travel Romance (Echo Trilogy, #2)

by Lindsey Fairleigh

  Nuin brushed past me, descending the stairs, and I followed. Enough daylight spilled in through the wide doorway behind us that the chamber at the bottom of the stairs was dim, though still visible to my Nejerette eyes. It was about the size of the average modern living room, and the walls were covered with neat columns of hieroglyphs, but they were slightly different from any I was familiar with. More ancient, I realized, giving Nuin a sideways glance. And a rectangular At altar had been erected in the center of the space, waist-high—just the right size for a person to lay on.

  Nuin reached the foot of the stairwell ahead of me, and I jogged the last few steps to reach for him. He looked over his shoulder as my fingers latched around his arm.

  “You created this to be your tomb, didn’t you?” I said, glancing at the altar. There was a reason it was just the right size for someone to lay on . . . because it was meant to hold a body.

  He smiled his favorite, mysterious Nuin smile and pointed to three false doors creating impressions in the opalescent walls ahead and on either side of what could only be called a burial chamber. “You must leave my words unharmed, but you may expand through each doorway as far as you wish.”

  “Uh . . .” I gave him another sideways glance. “But we’re underground. Wouldn’t I have to dig into the ground first? You know, so there’s space to put whatever I ‘build’?” Doing so would take ages.

  Nuin shook his head. “As the At expands in this plane, it does not displace matter, but replaces it.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “That doesn’t make sense. Matter can’t be created or destroyed. It’s a thing we know in my time . . . a universal law of physics.”

  Nuin frowned and cocked his head to the side. “I said nothing of creating or destroying.”

  “But, you said—”

  Nuin turned to face me and rested his hand on my shoulder. “Think of it like this, my Alexandra. When I first created the door that had been sealing this chamber, the matter that had been there—the different atoms making up the air—transformed into solidified At, and when you unmade the door, the solidified At reverted back to the types of matter it had originally been, in the exact state it had been in when originally transformed. It is as though you are transposing that alternate plane onto this one, but only in a delineated place, and while the At-matter is here, whatever it is displacing is frozen in time.”

  I shook my head, getting it and not getting it at the same time. “Clearly, a Nejerette does not a physicist make.” I cleared my throat and pointed to the false door on the opposite wall from the stairwell. “So, do I have to hop into the At to grab more raw material, or can I just use what the door’s made from?”

  Nuin’s face lit up. “Very good! Yes! You can be so bright sometimes, my Alexandra.”

  I eyed him, totally confused. “Um . . .”

  “Simply touch the door and unmake the portion of solidified At you wish to unmake, then will it into whatever new shape you wish. More At will be pulled in as needed without additional guidance from you. It’s really quite intuitive . . . just think of what you would like to happen, and it will happen.” He held up a finger. “So long as you’re touching the At.”

  “Alright . . .” I made my way around the altar and stopped in front of the false door. I raised my hand, touching my fingertips to a portion near the edge. “Here goes nothing.”

  Honestly, I just hoped I didn’t cause the whole underground chamber to come crashing down around us . . . or to be unmade, leaving us encased in earth. I shuddered and took a deep breath, forcing myself to concentrate.

  I pictured a simple room, about the same width as the burial chamber and twice as long, but with an arched ceiling instead of a flat one. I figured I might as well toss some architectural variation in to amuse myself. I felt the solidified At liquefy and readjust, slowly expanding outward. The earth didn’t shake, the ceiling didn’t shatter. I simply continued to picture that arched room, gleaming with its opaque, quartz-like walls and floor.

  “Oh . . . oh dear gods . . .” The voice was husky and female and definitely not Nuin’s.

  My eyelids snapped open as I set the At with a thought, feeling it solidify into a smooth, cool surface under my fingertips. I turned around slowly, hoping I’d misheard. But I hadn’t.

  Seshseshet stood on the bottom stair, her elbow linked with Aset’s. Both women’s eyes were wide, but Seshseshet’s mouth was hanging open as well.

  “Uh . . .” I looked at Nuin, hoping for guidance. Only a select few had ever seen me use my borrowed powers, including Aset, and we’d intended to keep it that way. It was why I was extremely careful about where I practiced using the sheut, and why the block shielding my power—and my glowy, rainbow eyes—remained up at pretty much all times. If Apep discovered that Nuin was no longer at full power . . . if he learned that I, a mere Nejerette, held the sheut . . .

  “I think I need to sit down,” Seshseshet said. Aset helped ease her down to sit on the second-to-last stair, but Seshseshet continued to stare at me with wide eyes. “You are a true goddess? Is this why you have rejected my husband?”

  I shook my head, taking several steps toward her. “No, I am—”

  “She is, and will continue to be,” Nuin said, and I shot him a surprised look. “For a while. In time, she will return to being a regular Netjer-At, like Aset or Heru. You cannot speak of this, Seshseshet, of what you have witnessed . . . not to anyone, not even Bunefer.”

  Seshseshet blinked slowly, and I was pretty sure it was the first time she’d blinked since seeing me work my magic. “Of course. I will speak of this to no one.”

  Aset cleared her throat daintily and addressed Nuin. “Seshseshet wished to speak with Lex, Great Father . . . in private.”

  “Ah, yes.” Nuin walked past the altar and started toward the stairs with a nod. “Very good.” He held out his arm to Aset, who accepted, resting her hand on his forearm like a dignified Edwardian lady, and together, they ascended the stairs. And left me alone with Heru’s pregnant wife.

  I glanced around the underground chamber, searching the inscribed walls for some hint of what to say. I didn’t find a single thing.

  Seshseshet laughed quietly; it was a soothing sound. “I apologize for my reaction just now.” She shook her head. “It is only—I have never seen the like . . .”

  I exhaled a weak laugh. “Not many have.”

  Smiling, she patted the stair beside her. “Please, sit with me. I would speak with you about your relationship with my husband.”

  My stomach soured, but I couldn’t bring myself to deny her request. She deserved my cooperation after what I’d unintentionally done to her, attempting to steal away a man who wouldn’t be mine, not really, for over four thousand years; right now he was hers. I moved the rest of the way around the altar and sat beside her on the step.

  “It is complicated, loving him,” she said.

  Watching her out of the corner of my eye, I shook my head. Complicated didn’t even come close.

  “But I believe you already know this.” Her smile widened a little. “In the village where I grew up, it was not a normal thing for a man to have more than one wife”—she met my eyes, a sparkle in hers—“or a woman to have more than one husband. But my village was near Men-nefer, and the Netjer-Ats and their ways are well known there.” She paused. “One day, Bunefer walked into my father’s villa and demanded to see me. She was hunting for Heru’s next wife, she told me, since she’d been unable to be a complete wife to him for many years, and he’d refused to search for another—”

  I shook my head. “A ‘complete wife’?”

  “They had not lain as husband and wife because doing so would risk Bunefer becoming pregnant—her last child died before it was born, nearly dragging her into the land of the dead as well.” A wistful smile spread across Seshseshet’s face, and I was starting to think she rarely went without a smile of some kind. “Bunefer was so petite, but so dignified . . . I was in awe of her. She told me she needed to find a w
oman who could keep Heru away from the—I apologize—Netjer-At whore in Men-nefer and make him want to return to the Netjer-At Oasis on a more permanent basis to be with his family.”

  I frowned. Seshseshet’s tale was not painting the prettiest picture of Heru’s character.

  “As I came to know him, I learned that it was Nuin, not Ankhesenpepi, who was keeping Heru away from the Oasis and his family, and it was the duty he felt as Nuin’s Blade that kept him in Men-nefer so long as Nuin was there.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I spoke with Nuin, requesting permission to be an annoying shadow to Heru day and night to ensure Khessie had no chance to corner him alone.” Seshseshet nodded. “It surprised me how pleased I was to find that Heru never ordered me away and only laughed every time she was put off by my presence. And then one night . . .” There was a knowing glint in her eyes, making my stomach lurch.

  I swallowed a burst of jealous nausea and clenched my jaw.

  “I was with child not long after, and Nuin ordered Heru to take me to the Netjer-At Oasis and to remain here until I’d born him three children.” She sat up a little straighter and started rubbing her bulging belly. “He did not leave again until I’d given him five children.” She sighed. “But now it is too dangerous for me to continue being a complete wife to him, and he must find another.” She met my eyes. “Or at least a Netjer-At woman who will love him and care for him in ways that I no longer can, not merely wish to use him to gain more power.”

  After a deep breath, Seshseshet said in a rush, “I came here to ask you to reconsider becoming a part of our family.”

  I stared at her, my eyes opened wide in surprise.

  “The priestesses who serve you adore you, as does Aset, and now that I have seen how truly powerful you are, I know that you would never use Heru for self-serving purposes.” For once, her smile slipped, and her gaze bored into me. “You will love him and support him and be a true partner to him in a way that only one of your kind can be. You must do this. You must keep her away from him . . . from our family. I beg of you.”

  I opened my mouth, then shut it again when I realized I had no idea how to respond.

  Seshseshet reached for my hand. There was fear and desperation in her eyes. “You do not know how horrible she can be . . . what she is capable of . . .” Shaking her head, she squeezed my hand. “Please, at least consider it.”

  I shook my head slowly, recalling the last things I’d said to Heru and feeling sick to my stomach. “Seshseshet—”

  “Call me ‘Sesha,’ please,” she said.

  “Sesha . . .” I cleared my throat. “It is not that I do not wish to try to be Heru’s true partner, but that I think it may be too late for us . . .” . . . at least, in this time. “I said something cruel to him, something unforgivable.”

  Seshseshet furrowed her brow. “I have not seen him since he ran after you, but I will send the children out in search of him, and when they find him and bring him home, I will speak with him. I am certain he will understand that you did not mean what you said, and all will be forgiven.” She squeezed my hand again, her eyes searching mine. “You will be here?”

  I shrugged, then nodded. It wasn’t like I had anywhere else to go. Not really.

  Seshseshet started to stand, or at least tried to stand. I hopped to my feet and helped her up, and when she patted my hand, letting me know she was fine, I let her go.

  “I will send him to you, here.” She smiled her increasingly familiar, warm smile. “I do not think it will be long.” But I didn’t share her confidence.

  I accompanied her to the top of the stairs, not completely convinced of her ability to balance. She looked like she might topple forward at any moment.

  Aset appeared in the doorway, holding out her arm to Seshseshet and looking at me. “Nuin left to attend to something, I do not know what.” Concern shone in her eyes. “But he told me about your argument with my brother.”

  Fantastic . . .

  “Are you alright to be alone? Do you want me to return after I accompany Sesha home?”

  “No, no . . . I am fine,” I lied. I wasn’t fine, but I also didn’t want to be around anyone. When my mind was troubled, solitude was my preferred coping mechanism.

  “Very well . . .” Aset studied my face for a moment before turning to walk away with Seshseshet.

  I watched their retreat until they rounded one corner of Nuin’s palace and were obscured by a series of delicate columns, then trudged back down the stairs to study my new creation more closely. It was the only thing I could think of doing that had even a remote chance of distracting me.

  Denai and the priestesses visited after a couple hours, bringing me food and lingering around the mouth of the stairwell, but I didn’t invite them down to what I’d started to consider my private sanctuary. Set stopped by, as well, and after him, Nekure, with a wineskin, which I didn’t turn away.

  I sat with Nekure on the outer steps as the sun dipped behind the western rim of the cliffs walling in the Oasis, neither of us saying much. I found unexpected comfort in his silent presence, and appreciated that he didn’t feel the need to corrupt that silence with words.

  The evening passed without any sign of Heru, and by the time full dark blanketed the Oasis and I was once again alone in my sanctuary, I sat on the floor, my back against the smooth At wall, and spoke to Marcus the only way I could. I inscribed my words on walls that I’d willed to glow, telling him about what I’d experienced so far.

  I was just starting to describe our eventful trip to the marketplace when my eyelids drifted shut, and I slumped against the corner of my sanctuary, sound asleep.

  36

  Give & Take

  I came awake with a gasp. The semiopaque walls of my sanctuary still glowed with a gentle incandescence, and there was a crick in my neck from sitting curled up in the corner for so long. But none of that mattered at the moment.

  Somebody else was in my sanctuary. I could hear the intruder descending the final few stairs into the altar room.

  I held my breath. The colors of the At-mist curled around me, preparing to whisk me away to safety . . . but I didn’t want to retreat; I wanted to fight. This was my place, my haven, and someone else, some intruder, was violating it. A not-so-tiny, not-so-quiet part of me hoped it was Ankhesenpepi, so I would have an excuse to see how well my exhausting training with Heru, Set, and Nekure was paying off . . . and beat the crap out of her.

  I grinned, and the At-mist surrounded me in a burst of rainbow colors. I exited time and space, only to reemerge in the altar room a few yards away, directly behind the intruder. As I reformed, a mere thought brought an At blade into being in my hand. I pressed it against the front of the intruder’s neck—a man’s neck—at the same time that I pressed myself against his back. His spicy scent filled my nostrils.

  Heru. He was my intruder.

  He grunted, his fingers wrapping around my wrist. “Do it, Alexandra.” He pulled my knife hand closer to his neck, forcing the blade to slice into his skin. “The pain will be a relief compared to that caused by your last words to me. You want to hurt me, so do it.”

  “No!” I shrieked, unmaking the knife.

  Maintaining his hold on my wrist, Heru twisted around to face me. The full moon bathed the side of his face in shadows and silver, while the soft iridescent light spilling through the doorway to my sanctuary made the other side seem to glow from under his skin.

  He took a step forward, pushing me backward. He took another. Another.

  My breaths were coming faster. “What are you doing here?” When my butt hit the edge of the altar, my heart gave an extra enthusiastic thump.

  Heru stared down at me, his eyes just as shadowed and silvered by the combination of diffused moonlight and glowing At walls as the rest of his face. His jaw clenched, and his nostrils flared once.

  He was so close. Only inches between us. I took a shaky breath. “Did—did Sesha talk to you? Is that why you are here?”
<
br />   His eyes tensed, and he shook his head. Why that made me feel relieved was beyond me, but it did. “I followed you,” he said, his voice quiet and silken. “I watched you with Nuin . . . watched you come down here. I watched Sesha and Aset and Denai and the others visit . . . watched you sit with Nekure under the moon . . .” There was a sharp edge to that final observation.

  Tilting my head to the side, I narrowed my eyes. “Did you listen when Sesha was here?”

  “I did.” He glanced around, but only for the briefest moment. “Little sound comes out of this place, much like how it is in the other buildings constructed from the At . . . but I did hear. None of my wives ever believed me, but I have never been intimate with Khessie. I find amusement in taunting her, like a trained cobra, but I would never let her close enough to bite; even I am not so ruled by my baser instincts that I could overlook her poisonous nature.”

  My eyes widened. I’d been so sure about his relationship with her . . . so sure. I shook my head the barest amount. These weren’t lying eyes.

  My wrist, still held in Heru’s almost painful grasp, was the only thing separating us, and it felt as substantial as a brick wall and as flimsy as air. “If you do not believe me,” he said, “then tell me to go. Say what you said earlier, tell me you meant it, and I will go.”

  Sucking in a breath, I parted my lips.

  You may be a younger version of the man I love, but you, Heru, are not him.

  I would never repeat those words. I wished I could erase those words from existence completely.

  “Tell me,” he repeated, his eyes searching mine. “Tell me, and I will leave you alone.” He held his breath, tension tightening his expression.

  Leave me alone? I shook my head, feeling the sting of tears. I didn’t want him to go, to leave me alone. I didn’t ever want him to do that . . . not in any time period, not in any place.

  Closing his eyes, Heru exhaled, and his almost pained expression melted away.