I’d reached the bonding pheromone saturation point? What did that mean, exactly? “But I still don’t know how to restore ma’at.”
“Ahhh . . . but you do. The same thing that will restore balance to your body will restore ma’at to the universe.” He paused, watching me closely. When I said nothing, merely stared at him in bafflement, he added, “When the sheuts that once belonged to Apep and myself are merged with brand-new beings, those beings will become the new Netjer, the next generation of true gods, the next guardians of ma’at in this universe.”
And still, I stared at him, eyes widened by shock. “My—my children?”
Smiling kindly, he nodded.
“Heru and me . . . having kids . . .” I shook my head slowly. “That is what’s supposed to save the universe?”
“Indeed it is, dear Alexandra.”
“I don’t . . .” I continued to shake my head. “That doesn’t . . .”
“I knocked the universe out of balance when I stole Apep’s sheut and stored it within this body, along with my own. Your children must be kept safe long enough to come into their power . . . they must be protected from Apep.”
I nodded, more than a little numb. “Of course.”
Nuin closed his eyes for a moment. “I am so very weary.”
“Oh, um . . .” I cleared my throat. “I’ll let you rest and come back later.”
Before I could stand, Nuin’s long fingers wrapped around my wrist. “But you cannot kill Apep.”
I eased back down onto the bedframe and shook my head, my mind taking a moment to catch up to Nuin’s abrupt change of topics. “But then he’ll always be a threat . . .”
“No, my Alexandra, I mean that you are incapable of killing Apep. Only I could do that—but I never would, because to kill Apep would destroy ma’at completely. Apep is. What is cannot not be. The universe is part of Apep, just as it is part of me—or the Re part of me—and it cannot exist without either of us.” Nuin exhaled heavily.
Again, I shook my head. “But . . . how am I supposed to protect—what am I supposed to do, then?”
“You must trap him in a Netjer-At’s body, then trap that Nejter-At as well.”
“Set . . .”
Nuin nodded, his eyelids drifting shut. “If Apep roams free, he will possess one of your children; he will use them to destroy ma’at . . . and then the universe will unravel until nothing is.” He said nothing more for several heartbeats, and I thought he’d fallen asleep.
Until his eyelids fluttered open. “If Apep becomes free before you can trap Set’s body, then you must seal him inside a prison of solidified At. It is the only other thing that can contain a being such as him.” Nuin’s odd, moonstone eyes locked on mine. “You must not let him possess you or Heru. Your bond is the key, and it will unlock either a future of balance, or a future of destruction . . . of nothing.”
His eyelids slid closed again, and he sighed. “If he possesses you while you still contain the sheut—or Heru, for that matter, once his sheut is made whole within him—then you must give the sheut to another . . . must sacrifice yourselves . . . for a chance . . .”
Dropping Nuin’s hand, I stood and backed away. “No . . .” My head turned from side to side slowly. “We won’t—I will not kill myself. That was never part of the deal.”
Nuin opened his eyes and speared me with his sharp gaze. “There is no deal. There is only truth.”
“I am no martyr.”
“No, dear Alexandra; you are no martyr. You are the Meswett, the girl-child, the messiah of all that ever was, is, or will be. You are far from a martyr.” His eyes closed, and his chest rose and fell several times, until his eyelids opened one final time. His irises were dulled, but once again shimmering with swirling colors. “You are a god.”
I backed away another step, shaking my head more adamantly. I’m no god, I thought. I’m no god! But what came out was, “Gods don’t die.” The words were barely a whisper.
“All things die.”
40
Life & Death
Heru and I returned to his home shortly after leaving Nuin’s palace, Nekure having already split off to alert Aset of Nuin’s sudden decline. I didn’t tell either of them about the disturbing information Nuin had relayed—that Heru’s and my children would be destined to a life of near-absolute power and crushing responsibility—or about his haunting final remark.
All things die.
And I refused to consider that such a sacrifice—my life, or Heru’s—would be the culmination of Nuin’s grand machinations. I’d never been idealistic, and I didn’t host any romantic notions about my true nature. I was not a martyr; I was a survivor, and suicide by sacrifice didn’t fit in with my survival instincts.
The grounds were eerily quiet as we approached the familiar cluster of buildings belonging to Heru’s family. My fingers were interlocked with Heru’s, but my free hand was clenched into a tight fist. It would not come to that. No. Way. In. Hell.
I shook my head. It wouldn’t come to that, because Nuin would recover from his temporary lapse into godly dementia, spend however long it took teaching me everything I needed to know to trap Apep—either in Set or not—and to return to my native time. And then I would figure out what to do about the whole “godly children” thing and everything would work out. Happily-ever-afters all around.
I clenched my fist more tightly, my nails digging into my palm painfully.
“Something is wrong,” Heru said, stopping before the columned entrance to his palace. He gave my hand a squeeze, then released it.
I searched my mind for an excuse for my withdrawn mood. But when I looked at him, he was scanning the neat little gardens, the stone houses surrounding the palace, and even the path we’d walked. He wasn’t talking about me.
Heru looked up at the sun, still hours from the horizon. “They never go in this early. There is still much to do . . .”
I frowned. “Maybe—maybe Sesha pulled everyone inside when Tarsi found her and told her about what happened?”
“Maybe . . .” Heru took the stairs leading up to the palace’s arched doorway two at a time, me close on his heel.
The air was scented with vomit and sweat, and I had to suppress a gag.
“Sesha?” he called.
There was no response.
“Sesha! Where are you?”
A groan came from one of the back rooms, accompanied by the faint sound of weeping. Without our heightened hearing, I doubted that either of us would have heard it.
Heru made his way through several sparsely furnished chambers and down a long hallway filled with late afternoon sunlight that led to the back of the palace, to the cozy room where the three youngest children slept. Seshseshet was kneeling on the floor beside one of three polished, wood-framed beds carved to display a bevy of animals native to Egypt, her head resting on her curled-up arm on the edge of the bed and her body shaking with each of her faint sobs.
Tarset lay atop the bed, her skin pallid and coated in a sheen of sweat and her breaths quick and shallow. A brief glance at the other two beds told me they were occupied by the other two children, who also appeared unwell, but not nearly as ill as Tarset.
“Sesha . . .” Heru strode into the room and dropped to his knees beside his pregnant wife. When Seshseshet didn’t look up, didn’t show any sign of having heard him, he shook her shoulder. “Sesha.”
She raised her head and turned red-rimmed eyes on him. With a wail, she threw herself into his arms and started crying in earnest.
I watched Heru attempt to comfort her—rubbing her back, murmuring soft, nonsensical words, rocking her—before making my way around the room, checking on the other two children. They were both burning up, but neither seemed to be having as much trouble breathing as Tarset was having.
I stopped at the head of Tarset’s narrow bed and stared down at her. Her eyes were closed, her mouth open, and each ragged, rattling breath was clearly a struggle. My stomach knotted and fissures laced t
hrough my heart. Not her . . .
“What happened?” I swallowed roughly. “How—”
Without warning, Seshseshet spun on her knees and wrapped her arms around my thighs, hugging my legs and staring up at me with hope-filled eyes. “I beg of you, save her . . . please.”
Slowly, I shook my head. “I do not know how to—”
“Please,” she repeated, desperation making her voice hoarse. “Please! You must be able to do something. This ailment already claimed Bunefer, and now it seeks my sweet Tarset. Whatever you say, you have the powers of the gods . . . I know you do. Please, Alexandra! Use this great power you have. Save my little girl. Please!”
“I—”
“Do not drink any water—it’s been poisoned,” Aset said as she rushed into the room, Nekure close on her heels. She scanned the beds quickly. “Ah . . . but I see I am too late.”
“Can you save them?” Heru asked his sister, his voice rough.
Aset approached the foot of Tarset’s bed and shook her head. “I can do nothing for her, but the other two I may be able to save.” She moved to Heru’s youngest son’s bed and bent over the boy.
My throat constricted. Aset—Dr. Isa, in my time—was a healer even now, but it would do no good for the little girl who’d snuggled her way into my heart. Aset couldn’t help her. Tarset was going to die.
Not her . . .
“Please . . .” Seshseshet’s hands were clutching the backs of my leg so hard that it was painful. “Help her, Alexandra.”
I licked my lips, unable to tear my eyes away from Tarset’s uncharacteristically pale face. “I cannot save her, Sesha, but I know someone who can . . . in my time, far in the future.” Neffe was an even more talented healer than Aset, and with modern equipment, I knew she was the dying child’s best chance. Plus, I had a moderately insane idea of a way to bring Tarset to her. Nuin’s words replayed in my head:
As the At expands in this plane, it does not displace matter, but replaces it . . . 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 . . .
Frozen in time . . .
“You will take here there, to this future healer?” Seshseshet’s eyes welled with a resurgence of tears.
I nodded, but my stomach churned with uncertainty.
“And then you will return her?”
“I—” Swallowing roughly, I shook my head. “Even I cannot do that. But she will have a chance to live her life . . . there.”
“Then you will take care of her? You will love her and raise her as your own daughter? You will do this for me?”
I stroked Seshseshet’s hair as my own tears welled. My saliva felt so thick, my mouth so dry, that I had to swallow several times before I could respond. “I will, Sesha, I swear it,” I said, not adding, if she survives . . .
“Then do it, please, I beg of you. Just save her. Let her live. I have lost too many . . . just let her live . . .”
Heru stood, and I raised my eyes to meet his gaze. He nodded.
I returned the nod and leaned over the short headboard to place my fingertips on Tarset’s forehead.
I concentrated.
Squeezed my eyes shut.
Took a deep breath.
And all at once, willed the At to replace every single cell of Tarset’s body with solidified At.
There was a sharp gasp, and Seshseshet’s arms fell away from me. “Is she—is she . . .”
“She is not dead.” I opened my eyes and stared down at what appeared to be a perfect, quartz sculpture of a slumbering little girl. “She is frozen in time—in every time between now and the future, when I will return her to the way she was. To her, it should be only a blink,” I said, hoping with every fiber of my being that I was right. I held my breath and glanced at Nekure; he had far more experience with this particular ability.
His lips were curved downward and his eyes were narrowed in thought, but ever so slowly, he nodded.
I exhaled in relief.
Seshseshet was running the backs of her fingers over her daughter’s stonelike face. “And your future healer will be able to save her when you wake her?”
I closed my eyes for several seconds. When I opened them back up, I met Seshseshet’s watery stare. “If she cannot heal her, no one can.”
Seshseshet bowed her head. “Thank you, Alexandra,” she whispered. “Thank you.”
Heru placed his hand on her shoulder and met my eyes, those liquid golden pools filled with more loss and gratitude and love than words could ever express.
I offered him a small smile and forced it to remain as a horrifying thought filled my veins with ice. Nuin . . . he hadn’t been suffering from some godly form of dementia caused by missing his sheut; he’d been suffering from the effects of this poison, and the most likely culprit was someone who’d been possessed by Apep and was using poison to weaken Nuin enough that he couldn’t fight as his sheut was torn out of him. Except his sheut wasn’t in him; it was in me, leaving him all but defenseless.
I left Heru and Seshseshet to their mourning and crossed to the doorway, where Nekure still stood sentry. I grabbed his elbow and pulled him into the long hallway. He let me guide him away from the sickroom, and when I stopped and faced him, he watched me curiously.
“I think this is Apep’s doing—all so he can distract the rest of us and weaken Nuin. Think about how Nuin was when we saw him . . .”
Nekure stiffened, his eyes searching my face but not really seeing as he processed my words. His eyes widened. “You must go to him. Now. Heru and I will only be minutes behind you.”
The colorful, misty tendrils of At were already swirling around me when I heard my name. I looked at the doorway to the sickroom, where Heru was standing. His eyes met mine.
And then I was gone.
41
Ashes & Dust
I appeared in Nuin’s tower bedroom in a silent burst of misty colors and found myself standing at the foot of his bed. A woman wearing the usual white linen shift was sitting astride him, her head bowed as though she were looking down and her shoulders and arms moving in a jerky motion. I could only see the bottom half of Nuin’s legs, but based on the groans coming from him, I initially thought I’d made a mistake, he was fine, and I’d burst in on an amorous moment.
Until I noticed the cords binding his ankles together, pale against the bronze of his skin. I knew Nuin as well as anyone could know the Great Father, and I felt absolutely certain that he would never allow himself to be put in restraints. He was too important, his purpose too significant to everything, to place himself in such a vulnerable position.
My first inhale confirmed my worst fears. The tang of blood mixed with the foul stench of feces and a sharp sourness hung thick in the air.
A cold detachment cloaked me, and in another flash of colors, I shifted to the side of the bed.
The woman was Ipwet, I could now see, Nuin’s primary human wife. Her hands and wrists were coated in a crimson sheen as they worked a bronze dagger between Nuin’s legs, and she seemed to be castrating him with excruciating slowness. The skin above his groin had been carved almost delicately, but the pervasive stench told me just how deep those cuts went into Nuin’s body.
The coldness seeped further into me, taking root in the core of my being. I reacted without thought. On my next inhale, before Ipwet even had a chance to turn her head in my direction, my hand was around her neck. I watched, fascinated, as the At crept across her skin, overtaking her body completely in a matter of seconds. Her opalescent face was locked in a wide-eyed, open-mouthed expression that could have been permanent. Except, unlike Tarset, I didn’t desire any sense of permanency for this woman . . . this monster.
Narrowing my eyes, I willed the atoms of At that had replaced Ipwet’s physical body to separate, to shatter into a seemingly infinite cloud of solidified At. She exploded with a soft poof, and the particles that had once been her s
pread out and misted to the floor, until she was nothing more than a layer of imperceptibly thin dust.
I exhaled harshly and sucked in another, rancid breath. But in my cool, detached state, the stench didn’t bother me.
I stared down at Nuin, my hands hovering over his ruined middle. Despite the chill in my soul, I couldn’t help but choke on a sob. When I slid my gaze up his torso to his face, I saw that he was gagged, and his eyes, once again radiating their faded swirl of brilliant colors, were shifting focus back and forth between mine and some point behind me.
Because Ipwet hadn’t been alone.
In the blink of an eye, I shifted to the other side of the bed and reappeared, facing my would-be attackers. There were three of them, all male, and all bigger and notably stronger than me, and all exuding an air of menace. And based on the way they moved, they were all Nejeret, which meant they were even stronger, even faster, even more highly skilled than any human. In the cool detachment, this was all so easy to see.
I grinned. I was more than a Nejerette. A foreign, alien power flowed through my body, wound around my soul. I was a goddess.
Who the hell did they think they were—Ipwet’s minions . . . assassins . . . traitors to our people? Maybe. They may have been all of those things. But they were also dead; they were insects waiting to be squished under my heel. They just didn’t know it yet.
Before the one in the lead could reach Nuin’s bed, before he could even consider finishing the job Ipwet had started, I shifted. I winked into existence directly behind him, giving form to an At dagger in my right hand as I did, and slid the razor-sharp blade across the front of his neck. Taking hold of his shoulders, I turned and shoved him at my other two opponents. Dark, arterial blood sprayed their bare chests and stained their pristine linen kilts as he collapsed against them.
Mirroring each other, they sidestepped away, letting their companion’s body settle on the polished floor. A glossy pool of blood spread out around his upper half, almost hypnotizing as it seeped from his dying body.
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