Kat Dubois Chronicles

by Lindsey Sparks

  My breaths were coming faster now, my heart beating a steady staccato in my chest. He really did it. He really went through the portal. Re, and Nik right along with him, was quite literally outside of this universe.

  I thought I should’ve felt something, like the unfathomable distance that now separated Nik’s and my bonded souls should have pained me. But it didn’t. All I felt was a sudden rush of panic making my stomach twist in knots. There was no turning back now. My bond-mate was on the other side of that portal. And if I wanted to survive for more than a week, I would have to follow.

  “Will it hurt?” I asked Anapa. When he didn’t answer right away, I glanced at him.

  He was frowning. “I honestly cannot say. You are the first of your kind to ever travel through a portal.”

  “But Susie and Syris—”

  “Are not Nejeret,” Anapa said, correcting me before I could even finish. “They are Netjer, through and through.”

  “Huh.” I stared at the portal, trying to imagine what I would find on the other side. I had so little to go on that I came up blank.

  “Well,” I said, taking a deep breath and blowing it out. “Here goes nothing.”

  With no idea what to expect, I squared my shoulders and strode straight toward the portal. My heart may have skipped a beat or three when I planted my shoe on the sidewalk a scant foot from the event horizon, but I didn’t allow my steps to slow. If I slowed at all, I thought I might lose my nerve, and then I would never make it through.

  I closed my eyes and held my breath.

  And stepped through the portal.

  Chapter Six

  As it turned out, entering a portal to another universe felt a lot like taking a running dive over the lip the Grand Canyon, only to free-fall for what felt like an eternity before landing in an enormous vat of warm, gooey Jell-O. And that was just the physical sensation.

  I closed my eyes for the first few seconds—a natural reaction to feeling like I was falling to my death, like that might protect me from the impact of landing. Once I opened my eyes, I was too awed to even blink.

  I seemed to be moving through a tunnel of some sort, its walls an ever-changing kaleidoscope of lights and colors and textures and, somehow, sounds. They flitted past, so very different from one another, but not the least bit discordant, like all the instruments in an orchestra playing at the same time—each making a unique sound but still maintaining harmony with the whole.

  Beneath it all, there was a steady drumming that reminded me of a heartbeat. I could feel the primal rhythm thrumming through the air all around me, somehow familiar and strangely comforting.

  The tunnel curved this way and that, up and down. And then there was a flash, brighter than those flickering along the walls of the tunnel, and suddenly I was falling again. That thrumming heartbeat stopped, replaced by an almost staticky staccato tapping, and the appearance of the walls changed, taking on an oily, metallic look. The surface of the walls still shifted endlessly, like liquid quicksilver, but in patterns and sharp angles.

  The journey came to an end just as it had started, with the whole falling sensation. I figured I would be thrown out of the portal into whatever sort of reception area awaited me on the other side. I didn’t expect to just step out of the portal like I was completing the motion that had brought me into the thing in the first place. But that was exactly what happened.

  The moment the sole of my shoe touched the solid surface on the other side of the portal, my knees gave out. I collapsed onto the floor, head hanging and palms pressed into a smooth, cool surface. I felt like I’d had way too much to drink and was suffering from a bad case of the spins.

  “Holy shit,” I said, the two words broken up by my quick, heavy breaths.

  A hand appeared in front of my face. A familiar hand, one that had spent a lot of time touching my body lately. Nik’s hand. I was so disoriented that it took me a moment to realize why Nik’s hand was the first thing I saw upon entering an entirely different universe.

  Nik was here too. I wasn’t alone in this foreign place. That knowledge made me breathe a little easier. If there was one thing I’d learned over the past few weeks, it was that there was nothing Nik and I couldn’t accomplish, so long as we were together.

  I shifted my weight backwards so my butt was resting on my heels and placed my hand in Nik’s. But the moment I raised my eyes and met his, the moment I saw that moonstone opalescence coloring his irises in place of that familiar, beloved pale blue, I hissed faintly and yanked my hand from his. Re was still in control.

  He stared down at me, expression one of utter confusion.

  My eyes narrowed to slits. “Think maybe you could turn the helm back over to Nik now?” I asked, raising my eyebrows. “I’m here. That was the whole point of you hijacking his body, right? So why don’t you just let Nik go and skedaddle on into your own body, or whatever . . .”

  Re grunted a humorless laugh, then closed his eyes and bowed his head. When his eyelids lifted once more, it revealed that heartwarming ice blue that belonged to Nik and Nik alone.

  I blew out a breath, pushing my hair out of my face with a hasty swipe of my hand. “Oh thank God,” I said as I reclaimed his hand and used it to pull myself up to my feet. “Good to have you back.”

  The corner of Nik’s mouth lifted, just a little. “Glad to be back.”

  My focus slid away from him, and I did a slow scan of our surroundings. “Damn,” I said, voice momentarily stolen by what I saw.

  We were in a dome that had to be at least five hundred feet high at its peak, taller than pretty much any building back in Rome. The walls were like quicksilver, rippling and refracting the light that seemed to be shining through it. I glanced down, confirming what I suspected from my less-than-dignified hands-and-knees arrival—the floor was made of the same material.

  I lifted one foot and tapped the toe of my shoe against the floor. Ripples spread out from the point of contact like those of a stone landing in water, only this stuff—whatever it was—felt solid. It was like the standard physical states from my universe didn’t apply here. Like solid, liquid, and gas weren’t rules in this alien place.

  “I wonder what it is,” I said, more to myself than to Nik.

  “Essence,” he said. “It’s the basic building block of this universe, what At and anti-At were modeled off of.”

  I looked at him, surprised by his answer. “How could you possibly know that?”

  Nik blinked, tension sharpening his features for the briefest moment before his expression relaxed. “Re . . .” He rubbed his temples with his thumb and index finger. “Some of his knowledge always spills over whenever he’s in here.”

  “Oh.” My eyes lingered on his face. “I don’t suppose you gleaned anything useful from his thoughts? Maybe some more info about what to expect with this whole trial thing?”

  Nik lowered his hand and shook his head. “No such luck. Sorry, Kitty Kat.”

  I sighed, lifting one shoulder. “No worries.”

  At the faint whoosh behind me, I spun around to look at the portal. Anapa had joined us.

  “What took you so long?” I asked. I’d thought he was right behind me.

  The corners of Anapa’s mouth just hinted at turning down. “I stepped into the portal immediately after you, Katarina.” He tilted his head to the side, curiosity lighting his midnight eyes. “How long have you been here?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. Five minutes, maybe?”

  That hint of a frown deepened. “How odd,” Anapa said. “I was under the impression that, besides the Mother of All, all beings traveled through portals at the same speed.” His brows drew together. “I have never heard of any sort of variability.”

  “That’s me,” I said, fake-laughing, “the variable one.”

  Anapa continued to stare at me, making me more than a little uncomfortable.

  “So . . .” I glanced at Nik, flashing him a discomfited smile. “What’s next?”

  “Oh,”
Anapa said, “yes, right . . .”

  He seemed to shake himself out of his momentary trance, then turned around to face the swirling portal. He raised his hand and pressed it into the wall just outside the outer rim of the portal. Ever so slowly, he inched his hand toward the edge of the portal, and just as slowly, the portal shrank until it was nothing more than a small, blackened disk spinning ever more slowly on the quicksilver wall.

  Anapa plucked the disk off the wall once it had stopped spinning and curled his long fingers around it.

  With the portal closed, the walls and floor were the only sources of light, the Essence showering us all in an eerie, silver glow. It was like the world had been bleached of color, leaving behind only black and white and every shade of gray between.

  I laughed under my breath, more a nervous response than one of humor. “We’re definitely not in Kansas anymore,” I muttered.

  Anapa stared at me for a moment, clearly not catching the reference. Apparently, his time in my universe had not included much exposure to popular culture.

  “Oz,” I told him. “Wizard Of. It’s a classic. You should check it out sometime.”

  Anapa cleared his throat. “Yes, well, I would imagine that many things here will look strange to you, but I’ve done my best to add some familiarity to your quarters as well as to the chamber created for your trial.”

  “Created for?” I repeated back to him, eyebrows rising. “You created a whole space just for this?”

  “Indeed.” Anapa clasped his hands behind his back. “Such is the protocol in cases like this, as so few species can exist purely in energy form. As you are now, tied to your physical body, you would not be able to survive on our usual plane of existence.”

  “I’m sorry . . .” I blinked at him, exchanged a glance with Nik—who, surprisingly, didn’t seem at all affected by Anapa’s explanation—and returned to staring at Anapa. “But, what?”

  “We do not often descend to the physical plane,” Anapa explained further. “And as the Netjer most familiar with your universe, I was tasked with creating the physical spaces required for your stay here as well as charged with your care.”

  I opened my mouth and inhaled to ask one of the million questions buzzing around my mind, then pressed my lips together again. “Huh.”

  “Come,” Anapa said, raising a hand and waving it to the side.

  An opening formed in the wall of the dome, not swirling like the portal from my universe, but still round. Beyond it, I could see what appeared to be my bedroom from Heru’s place on Bainbridge Island.

  I stared through the doorway, my mouth falling open.

  “Let us get you settled in,” Anapa said. “It should not be too long of a wait until the High Council is ready for you, but I think you should have time to rest, if you’d like. This has been a lot to process, I’m sure.”

  Apparently, he’d meant it when he said the Netjers wanted to make me feel comfortable here. I wasn’t sure what to think of it. In the back of my mind, I’d been expecting to be thrown into a prison cell of stone and iron where I would rub elbows with rats and other vermin. But going so far as to create a replica of my bedroom—that was just strange. Why do it? What was the Netjers’ angle, really?

  Because instead of setting me at ease, the familiar surroundings were a jab to the heart, reminding me of just how far away home was. An actual, truly infinite distance away.

  That realization sparked a hint of panic and infected me with a bout of homesickness so acute and severe that it physically hurt. It felt like my heart was being squeezed, my lungs constricted, right there in my chest.

  I balled my hands into fists and straightened my spine, squaring my shoulders. Sure, this was a crazy situation. But it wasn’t my first time facing what was, by pretty much any definition, insane, and so far as I knew, there was a way out. So long as there was a way out, I would not panic. I would not give in to weakness.

  I would squash that shit and sweep it under a rug. I had to hide it away where nobody could see it. Not even me.

  Chapter Seven

  Nik followed me into the replica of my bedroom, Anapa right behind him. A quick examination of the space told me Anapa had done an impeccable job of recreating my room from back home. It was eerie to be surrounded by familiarity and to know that none of it was real. A tiny voice in the back of my mind wondered if that was the whole point. Was the High Council’s “standard protocol” in place to throw guests like me—if I could even be called a guest—off-balance before their trial? Or did they genuinely want to make me feel comfortable? If that was the case, it wasn’t working.

  “So, what happens next?” I asked, turning away from the illusion to face the doorway. It was right where a normal, mundane door would have been, but it couldn’t have been more different.

  Anapa stood just inside the opening. “For now,” he said, “you wait. I will return when the High Council summons you. It shouldn’t be long.” He turned as though he was about to walk right back out the way he’d come in.

  I took a step toward him. “You’re leaving? Just like that?” I raised my hands a few inches, subconsciously beseeching him to stay. “No explanation of—of anything?”

  Anapa seemed to be avoiding meeting my eyes, which set off all kinds of alarm bells in my mind. “You will understand everything soon enough,” he said cryptically, then stepped through the doorway.

  I rushed after him but barely managed two steps before the opening closed in on itself, sounding like something being sucked up a pneumatic tube, leaving nothing but a blank wall where the only way out had been just a moment earlier.

  I couldn’t believe he’d left. He just walked away, leaving us there, none the wiser. I still didn’t know what was going on, beyond the supposed trial I would be facing as the representative of my universe. Beyond his claims that my willing participation was the only thing standing between my universe and its complete and utter destruction. Beyond the fact that there was an infinite expanse of time and space between where I was now and where I belonged.

  “Oh, come on!” I smacked the wall where the door had been with an open hand, a frustrated growl rising up my throat. “This is such bullshit.” I hit the wall one more time for good measure, then turned and leaned back against it, crossing my arms over my chest.

  Nik settled in the violet armchair in the corner of the room, resting the base of his skull against its cushioned back and closing his eyes.

  “How can you just sit there?” I asked. I wrapped my fingers around my upper arms, digging my nails into my own flesh, hoping the pain would alleviate some of the panic mounting in my chest. “This whole situation is so screwy, and now Anapa . . .” My irritation with the Netjer came out in the form of a growl. “He just left us here. We’re trapped, Nik. We’re prisoners.” An anxious shiver crawled up my spine, and I threw my hands up in frustration. “And it’s like you don’t even care.”

  Nik rested his hands on the end of the chair’s arms, then raised and lowered his shoulders in an unenthusiastic shrug. “Calm down, Kitty Kat. There’s no point in getting all worked up about something we can’t change.”

  I scoffed, hardly able to believe the words that had just come out of his mouth. “Fine,” I said, gritting my teeth and shaking my head. I was getting the distinct urge to punch Nik, and I impressed even myself by showing some restraint and not doing it. “You just sit there,” I told him, a distinct edge to my voice. “Do nothing. I’m sure we can relax our way out of this.”

  “Kat . . .” Nik shifted forward in the chair like he was considering standing. Like he might come to me and try to comfort me.

  I raised a hand, palm out toward him. “No, don’t. If you get close to me right now, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop myself from scratching your face off.”

  Nik laughed silently, the corner of his mouth rising just a little. “Have it your way,” he said as he settled back in the chair.

  I was fully aware that my frustration with Nik stemmed from my frus
tration with myself. He didn’t need to be here, but he was because I’d demanded it. I’d justified it both internally and to Anapa by claiming that if Nik and I were separated for too long it would mean death for both of us. But the truth of it was that I’d really wanted Nik here with me because I was afraid and because he was the strongest, most powerful person I knew. And he made me stronger just by being here, with me. But at the same time, him being here was a reminder of my own weaknesses, which only frustrated me further. It was so much easier to push that frustration out onto him than to deal with it at the source—me.

  Sometimes I felt bad for him that he had to put up with me for the rest of forever. Now was not one of those times.

  I glared at Nik for a few seconds longer, then rolled my eyes once more, sniffing as I turned my back to him and recrossed my arms over my chest. I looked around at the familiar walls and furnishings, part of me wishing for the iron jail cell I’d imagined.

  The room was perfect—just like my room back on Bainbridge. The bed and nightstands, the dresser, the armchair, the armoire, and the bathroom were all in the right places. Even the standing mirror was there, though this version was just a mirror: no sign of Dom’s name etched around the frame, let alone his ghostly reflection.

  Even though everything looked right, it wasn’t. It was too neat. Too tidy. There were no bottles of booze on the dresser. My tarot cards weren’t strewn out on the nightstand alongside a glass of bourbon. The bed was made, which never happened, and there were no clothes draped over the chairback or piled on the floor near the armoire.

  My focus returned to the standing mirror, my thoughts turning to my half-brother, and I touched the mirror pendant hanging on a leather cord around my neck. “Dom, can you hear me?”

  There was no response. My heart gave a nervous flutter.