Magic and Mayhem: A Collection of 21 Fantasy Novels

by Jasmine Walt

  Alexander set down his fork with a soft clink. “I see. And what exactly do you know about Heru?”

  It was time for the trust test. “Tell me what I should know, and I’ll tell you if I do.” When his mouth pinched and his eyes narrowed, I said, “I’m sorry, Alexander, but I really need you to do this. I need to know I can trust at least one person in my out-of-control life.” Desperation resounded in my voice.

  Alexander took a deep breath and held it, studying me. Finally, he exhaled. “Heru has been my closest friend for over fifteen hundred years, which is why I asked him to keep an eye on you, just in case you manifested. It was a very large favor to ask of him, considering his position on the Council and the unlikelihood of you manifesting . . . but, he owed me. This is delicious, by the way,” Alexander said, taking a bite of chicken. “Tastes just like Suse used to make for me, back when she could stand to be in my presence long enough to cook and share a meal.”

  “Thank you,” I said, watching him. I decided he wasn’t trying to change the subject, but was just being kind. I dug in, eating while he spoke.

  “I’d been watching you for a couple years, since everyone manifests between age eighteen and twenty-five. You were nearing the end of the window, so I was fairly certain it wouldn’t happen, but I called in a favor from Heru anyway. He only agreed because he could still plan the big excavation using your university as a hub.” Alexander seemed to consider his next words carefully.

  “I’ve been putting off telling you about him because I didn’t want you to think being Nejerette was the only reason you were on the excavation. In the process of observing you, Heru—or Marcus, as you know him—discovered that you were a talented ancient linguist. He called me in November, asking my permission to invite you to join the excavation. I wasn’t against it, but I let him know I didn’t think it was the best idea, considering what could be happening on the solstice and that there would be so many Nejerets present. At that point, you hadn’t shown any signs of manifesting, and like I’ve said before, you manifesting didn’t show up in the possible futures at all. There weren’t even any possible futures that showed us ever meeting or interacting.” He shook his head, clearly confused by the big ol’ blank spot in the future At surrounding my Nejerette status.

  “Heru is, well, Heru,” he said. “He’s used to getting what he wants, and since I didn’t prohibit it, he asked you to join his little team of Nejeret archaeologists. The last time I spoke with him—in mid-December—he let me know, much to my shock, that you were beginning to manifest. I was planning to return at the end of January. It should have been plenty of time. Unfortunately, your Nejerette traits developed more quickly than expected, and Suse called me in a panic when you started showing that you knew things you could only have learned from an echo, and, well . . .” After a thoughtful moment, he said, “I think that’s the gist of it.”

  “And you two haven’t spoken since?”

  “Heru and I? No,” Alexander said resolutely.

  “Why not?”

  Alexander glared at the wall. “That, my dear, is between Heru and me.”

  I pressed my lips together, thinking. Alexander was my grandpa—my blood. He’d helped me understand what I was, and he’d just told me far more than I’d already known about the months leading up to my first journey into the At. If I couldn’t trust Alexander, then I couldn’t trust anyone.

  “Okay,” I said simply.

  “Okay?”

  “Okay,” I repeated.

  “Okay,” he agreed with a nod.

  Minutes passed, and we ate in silence. I cleaned my plate and took seconds, while Alexander managed seconds and thirds. I wondered what would happen to a Nejeret who didn’t receive adequate nutrition, but it was a question for another day.

  When both of our plates were clean and we were sitting in contented silence, I decided it was time to initiate phase three of my plan. “There’s something I want to show you,” I declared. “Are you done?”

  Alexander let out a blissful, “Yes.”

  “Great!” I exclaimed and grabbed his hand. “Hold on.”

  Taking longer than I was used to when visiting that particular echo, the usual swirl of colors surrounded us before the world resettled in the form of a night-darkened waiting room. Surprisingly, the fertility clinic didn’t seem nearly as dark as it had the last time I’d visited this particular echo. Maybe my heightened Nejerette senses are finally kicking in, I considered.

  “Would you care to explain our current setting, granddaughter?” Alexander asked curtly, and I wondered if I had yet again breeched some Nejeret social norm.

  “We’re in the fertility clinic Mom used. It’s the night before I’m . . . er . . . conceived,” I floundered. “Just watch.”

  There was a click, and the door separating the clinic from the stairs creaked open. A tall, slender man with pale skin and black hair entered the waiting room.

  “And who is this?” Alexander asked, suddenly very curious.

  “My father . . . or my biological father. Come on, let’s wait for him in here,” I said, leading Alexander to the laboratory, where he would be able get a good look at the man whose DNA made up half of mine. I had a theory, but I needed to see Alexander’s reaction to know if it was correct.

  “What makes you think that criminal is your biological father?”

  “Just watch,” I repeated.

  The man entered the lab and turned on the lights. He headed for the pair of small freezers.

  “Deus!” Alexander exclaimed as he stared in horror at the man. He leapt in front of me, gripping my upper arms tightly. “We must leave now, Alexandra.” I could feel him attempting to pull me away from the At, but stubbornly, I held us there.

  “What? Why?” I asked. In my surprise, I had inadvertently paused the echo.

  The man—my father—was frozen with his arm reaching into one of the freezers.

  Alexander, realizing I was holding us in the echo, stopped fighting. He studied the man, examining and memorizing every detail of his appearance as well as what he was doing.

  “I believe you are right . . . he is your father. But Alexandra, you must release us so we can return to our bodies. It’s imperative!” He urged, wrapping me in a tight hug.

  I returned us immediately, and once again, we sat at the dinner table with our empty plates in front of us. I let go of Alexander’s hand. “What—”

  He cut me off. “I’ve never seen him in person, but we are all forced to memorize his likeness so we know to get as far away from him as possible if we cross his path. He is very dangerous.” He breathed deeply. “The man in the echo was Set.”

  “Set?” I asked, astounded. “As in, the Council member who disappeared over three thousand years ago, Set?” I’d thought the man in the echo was Nejeret and had showed him to Alexander to receive confirmation, but Set? That I definitely hadn’t expected.

  “Yes,” Alexander said.

  “And he’s my father?”

  “So it would seem,” he said carefully. “This discovery is extraordinarily important, but I’ll just confuse you if I try to explain why. I should have paid more attention to—” Abruptly, he lifted his fist and brought it back down on the table, hard. “Damn it all to hell!”

  I jumped, then leaned back in my chair. “Alexander?” I asked, my voice small. “What’s going on?” I was suddenly very frightened. I’d never seen Alexander act like this. I’d never seen anyone act like this.

  “I’ll stay with you tonight and accompany you to work tomorrow morning. Heru and his team are the best in this regard and will help you understand.”

  “Understand what?” I asked.

  “What it means to be of the line of Ivan and of the line of Set,” he said somberly.

  “But—”

  “No, Alexandra. You must wait until tomorrow. And whatever you do, do not enter the At again tonight. For the sake of your life, please, do not.”

  18

  Prophecies & Protectors


  In his complete and unexplainable paranoia, Alexander had forbidden me access to any mode of communication all night. That, in addition to his interspersed, ominous remarks, had reduced me to a bundle of frayed nerves. By the time we left my building, I was ready to rush into Marcus’s arms like a blubbering schoolgirl . . . which was exactly what I did.

  “Little Ivanov, what’s wrong?” Marcus asked, wrapping his arms around me and resting his chin on top of my head. I knew the exact moment he noticed Alexander because his entire body stiffened. To my surprise, he didn’t let go of me. Instead, he tightened his hold.

  The complete oddness of dating—if that was what we were doing—a man more than twice as old as my ridiculously ancient grandpa hadn’t gone unnoticed by me. Neither had the fact that they were exceptionally close friends. In my many anxious thoughts throughout the long night, I’d worried about the confrontation that was about to happen almost as much as I’d worried about whatever Alexander refused to tell me about Set . . . about my father . . . about me.

  Hesitantly, Marcus released me until he was holding only my hand, and then he bowed his head to Alexander. “For my failure, I submit myself to you,” he stated, sounding grim and formal.

  “I release you, and forgive you . . . not that I should,” Alexander said.

  “Thank you, my friend. I did what I could . . . I . . . he will never hurt her again,” Marcus said.

  Are they talking about me . . . and Mike?

  “Yes, well, we have more important things to worry about now. Alexandra and I discovered something last night. It’s something you and your team will want to hear,” Alexander said.

  Marcus studied us both before nodding. During the fifteen minute walk to Denny Hall, he maintained a strong, reassuring grip on my hand, even in the face of my grandpa’s narrow-eyed glares. Alexander was not happy about our familiarity. I thought it was because of the whole ancient-mythical-god-meets-granddaughter thing, but worried it was something else . . . something worse.

  When we burst through the door to The Pit, the three Nejerets already in the room started. Alexander entering with us could only have meant one thing—I knew about the Nejerets. Usually that would’ve been good news, but from my grandpa’s expression, everyone was aware that we were in a bad-news scenario.

  “Meeting. Now,” Marcus barked.

  Josh and Dominic cleared artifacts and books off a long table in the center of the room, and we all settled around it like medieval knights planning for war.

  “Welcome to the club,” Dominic whispered with a smile. It was the friendliest expression I’d ever seen on his face, but he lost the smile at a glare from Marcus, who was sitting at the head of the table. I was seated to his right, with Alexander directly across from me and Josh by my side. Neffe and Dominic sat beside my grandpa.

  “Alex has some important information. Heed his words.” Marcus ordered, succinctly passing the ball to my unusually serious grandpa. Under the table, out of the view of the Nejerets, Marcus twined his fingers with mine.

  “Last night, Alexandra took me into the At to show me the man she believed to be her biological father,” Alexander began.

  I could feel Marcus’s eyes burning into the side of my face, and I turned my head to meet them.

  “She was unfortunately correct. The man she believed to be her father is indeed her father. I am convinced.” Alexander paused for a deep breath, suspense piling on the table like centuries of dust. “It’s Set.”

  I would have paid more attention to the three Nejerets on my right who burst into simultaneous, horrified objections if I hadn’t been staring into Marcus’s black-rimmed, golden irises. His pupils dilated until only a hair-thin line of gold marred the unrelenting black, and under the table, his hand clenched mine painfully.

  “Silence!” he ordered. “Alex, are you absolutely certain?”

  Alexander nodded and explained what he’d witnessed in the At less than twelve hours earlier. It was decided that I would quickly show Marcus the echo to confirm Set’s identity.

  Again, it took me longer than usual to enter the echo, almost like the At had thickened and was more difficult to move through. But soon, both Marcus and I were in the echo of the clinic the night before I was conceived.

  A string of incomprehensible syllables burst from Marcus’s mouth as soon as he saw the man in the lab. I didn’t need to be able to understand what he was saying to get the general idea. He was enraged, stalking around the echo of the lab and glaring at Set’s frozen form. “I should have known . . . should have seen . . .” he growled, finally speaking in English.

  “Marcus, how could you have known? What’s the big deal?” I asked, desperately trying to reel him in.

  Gently, he held my face between his hands and whispered, “I can see pieces of him in you, now . . . here”—he brushed the pads of his thumbs lightly over my eyelids—“and here.” He let his thumbs rest on my high cheekbones. “I’m so sorry, Lex. I am so, unbelievably sorry.” He kissed me tenderly, with so much sadness painted across his face that I would have done anything to lift his mood.

  “Marcus—”

  “Return us,” he said gravely, and I did.

  “It’s true,” Marcus confirmed, again sitting to my left at the table in The Pit.

  To my complete and utter astonishment, Neffe’s eyes were filled with sympathy . . . and she was looking at me. Oh God . . . if Neffe feels bad for me, then this is worse than I ever could have imagined.

  “How can you be sure?” Dominic asked. “Just because you’ve seen him—”

  “You, of all people, should know that is exactly the reason we know it’s true,” Marcus said, cutting Dominic off. His anger from the echo had changed from hot rage to icy fury, a far more terrifying version of the emotion, and the chill coated his words. “She took Alex into one of Set’s echoes. She took me. Only one of his bloodline can ever break through his cloaks to catch a glimpse of him in the At. And how many times have you found him, Dom? Twice? Three times? And each of those after thousands of failed attempts. Lex has tried at least three times to see him and succeeded each time. She is the daughter of Set.” Marcus shifted his intense gaze to Alexander, and his voice broke when he added, “And the great-granddaughter of Ivan.” He closed his eyes and bowed his head.

  This is so not good . . . Overwhelmed, frustrated, and really scared, I blurted, “Can somebody please explain what’s going on? Why is being Set’s daughter such a bad thing?”

  “It’s not all bad, sister,” Dominic said. “His bloodline is very powerful.”

  I gaped at Dominic, absolutely dumbfounded. “I’m sorry, did you just call me sister?”

  He nodded. “It would seem that we share a father, though I am not also of Ivan’s line, so—”

  An inhuman hissing—more serpentine than feline—interrupted his statement. It was coming from Neffe. “You will let my father explain!”

  I looked back at Marcus in time to catch a heartbreaking play of emotions cross his face before his austere mask slid into place. Something about the development bothered him deeply, beyond whatever he was about to explain. For Marcus, it was personal. Because he really cares about me? Or because of Set?

  Staring straight ahead, Marcus explained, “Set went rogue a few decades after Nuin’s death. When Osiris—my father and the leader of the Council of Seven at the time—was murdered, the Council chose me as his successor over Set, who was also Nuin’s grandson but was older. He was furious and power-hungry—probably already somewhat insane at that point, though he hid it well. The day the Council made that decision, Set declared war on all who opposed him, and the Nothingness first appeared. It spread throughout the At, either hiding or destroying the echoes of the distant future. We still don’t know what the Nothingness is exactly, just that it is fast approaching and that, starting on the solstice, all future possibilities are hidden from us.”

  Marcus looked down at the table, then finally met my eyes. “When Nuin died, he sealed his
power—what is known as the ‘ankh-At’—in an impenetrable chest, which we kept in the Council’s vault. Set managed to steal it and hide it from us, even in the At.” The corner of his mouth turned down in the barest of frowns. “We don’t know how they are connected for certain, but we do know there is a connection between the ankh-At, Set, and the Nothingness.”

  I started to ask, “How—” but Marcus cut me off with a sharp shake of his head.

  He took a deep breath, then continued. “There is a prophecy—Nuin’s prophecy—which tells of the coming of the only one who can save us. Senenmut’s second tablet, the one you haven’t seen, is the only record of the prophecy. Nuin uttered the words roughly four thousand years ago, just before he died, but that echo and all others relating to the prophecy were destroyed, as well as all physical record. Only one of Nuin’s wives—the only Nejerette wife he ever took—Set, and I were present to hear Nuin make his prophecy, but”—Marcus shook his head—“something I never understood happened, and though I remember being present during the recitation of the prophecy, neither Set nor I could recall Nuin’s words—his last words. We searched for his wife, the only other person who had heard it, but she’d vanished. For over a thousand years I searched for her, but I never did find her.”

  The ghost of a smile touched his lips. “Then, shortly after Neferure was born, a recently manifested Nejeret—Senenmut—came to me with a tablet he’d inscribed. He said the words had just come to him, and that he knew he had to write them down and bring it to me, but he didn’t know why. I recognized the words inscribed on the tablet as soon as I laid eyes on them. It was as though a veil had been lifted from my memory. They were Nuin’s final words—the prophecy.”

  And then Marcus started to recite.

  She will be the girl-child of Set.