by Jasmine Walt
Heru will set his heart on the girl-child and
She will trust him above all others.
Heru will make her his she-falcon and
She will bind herself to him.
“What does it mean by ‘she-falcon’?” I asked.
“According to my father and everyone else who knew him, Nuin was quite the wordsmith. By ‘she-falcon,’ he was referring to Heru’s match—the woman who would bring him to heel and force him to remember certain, deeper pleasures . . . not just sex, but companionship and love. In modern terms, I suppose it would be called his ‘soul mate.’ I was just a little girl, but I remember my father being furious when he read the prophecy on Senenmut’s tablet for the first time.” She shook her head, her dark-as-night waves brushing back and forth over her shoulders. “Perhaps it was because he loathed the idea of being bound to anyone. For so long he’s been arrogant, cold, and frustrating.” Her amber gaze sharpened. “But with you, he’s so vibrantly alive, so completely engaged. It was unexpected. I’m sure you can understand why I was so upset the day you overheard our argument.”
“Yes, I understand,” I said, in truth, understanding very little. “And now he’s gone away?”
Neffe looked down at her hands, which were clasped discreetly in her lap. “Yes, Meswett. He thought going away would dampen the feelings between the two of you, prevent the binding, and nullify Nuin’s prophecy. Without one verse, how could the others be true?” She shrugged gracefully. “At least, that’s how he’s looking at it.”
I turned away from her too-familiar eyes. I understood why he’d left—it was an ingenious plan. Rather, it would have been an ingenious plan if I hadn’t already fallen for him. A silent tear leaked from the corner of my eye and trailed down my cheek.
“He wasn’t trying to hurt you, Meswett, I know it!” Neffe proclaimed desperately. “My father didn’t want to leave. He lov—”
“That’s enough, Neffe,” Dominic said, placing a hand on her shoulder. “She needs rest, not troublesome thoughts. Leave us.”
Fury flashed across her face, but she responded, “Yes, Milord.” To me she pleaded, “Don’t forsake him. He already has his heart set on you, whether or not he realizes it.” Swiftly, she swept out of the room.
“I feel like I’m being shredded into a million little pieces,” I said to the ceiling. My voice was high and wobbly.
Dominic sat in the same chair in which Neffe had been sitting, directly beside the bed. “I know, Lex.”
“How do I make it stop?”
“You don’t,” he said quietly, grasping my hand. I curled into a ball around his arm and began to cry.
Part II
The Heru Compound Bainbridge Island, Washington
20
Enemies & Friends
Sandwiched between Dominic and Josh at the Plaintiff’s table in a courtroom on the eighth floor of the King County Courthouse, I waited anxiously for the jury to emerge and share their verdict. Marcus had been gone for nearly two months, and though every minute of every day had been filled with learning how to be the Meswett to my people, honing my Nejerette skills, preparing for the excavation, and attempting to get Mike an extended stay behind bars, I never stopped thinking about him . . . missing him . . . hating him . . . possibly even loving him.
It was the twelfth day of the trial, and I couldn’t wait for it to be over, regardless of the verdict. The entire time, it had been impossible to ignore one particularly sharp gaze digging into the back of my skull. Set was sitting in the front row on Mike’s side of the courtroom, and I refused to look at him. Not that it had been brought up during the trial, but he—my own biological father—had been the one who sent Mike the text ordering him to use the drugged lip balm. I consoled myself by thinking that Mike, who had entered the courtroom every day using a cane and walking with an obvious limp, wouldn’t be at peak raping performance for a long time. Unfortunately, his miserable-looking physical state seemed to earn him sympathetic looks from jury members throughout the trial.
“You’re positive that last witness is your friend?” Dominic asked, referring to Cara. I thought back on her testimony and scowled.
The defending lawyer, with the black lines of a conspicuous Set-animal peeking out above the back of his collar, had asked her, “And you’re certain the Plaintiff was excited about the date with the Defendant?”
“Yes, very,” Cara had responded. She’d refused to look in my direction.
“Did the Plaintiff talk about having sexual relations with the Defendant?”
“Yes, she was excited and nervous.”
“Why was she nervous?”
“Because she hadn’t been with anyone for a long time,” Cara had explained helpfully. I’d never wanted to disappear more in my life—my parents, Jenny, and Grandma Suse were sitting less than a dozen feet behind me.
“Is there any additional reason she was nervous?”
Cara had bit her lip before answering. “Yes. She had a dream that the date ended in rape.” The audience gasped. Her words had been like sharp, invisible daggers stabbing into my back. Why would she ever volunteer that information? Why? I’d wondered, feeling unbearably betrayed.
“And do you think it’s possible that the Plaintiff wanted her disturbed fantasy to play out?”
“I don’t . . . no! Nobody would want that!” Cara had seemed to suddenly wake up from the spell of disloyalty that had her in its thrall.
“The Plaintiff went to a great effort to entice the Defendant, did she not?” the attorney had asked.
Cara had sounded defeated when she’d replied, “Yes.”
“What did she do to entice him?”
“She, um . . . she borrowed a dress from me, and our other friend helped her do her hair,” Cara had answered.
“No further questions, Your Honor,” Mike’s lawyer had said, shooting me a smug grin as he’d returned to his seat.
I shook my head, dispelling the disturbing memory of Cara’s testimony. “I used to think she was one of my best friends, but I don’t know anymore,” I told Dominic.
“Had you been considering confiding the truth of your nature to any humans, might I suggest avoiding her?” he whispered.
“Thanks for the tip,” I whispered back. Some of the heightened Nejeret ears in the audience had heard us, and Set barked a laugh.
Dominic, Josh, and I shared an irritated look. Alexander had called in additional bodyguards from our familial line as soon as my deranged father appeared on the first day of the trial. Filled with slightly too large and undeniably “perfect” people, the courtroom looked like the setting for a cheesy, prime-time legal drama.
“Has anyone been able to get ahold of him?” I asked Dominic, referring to my absentee patron and the breaker of my heart.
Dominic shook his head and corners of his thin lips turned down. “He’s ignoring us. At least before this farce started”—he waved his hand, indicating the courtroom—“we knew he was alive. Every day included a dozen emails, calls, and texts checking up on you. Are you sure you want to get involved with him? He’s proving to be a bit obsessive.”
“Dom . . .” I warned. Ever since Marcus abandoned me in his secure compound, my half-brother had been slipping in little criticisms of his behavior whenever possible. It had been two months and the reminders of Marcus’s flaws were beyond getting old—they were mummified. But, Dominic was also the one who comforted me every time I broke down . . . which, I was ashamed to admit, happened on a daily basis. Sometimes it was about Marcus, sometimes it was about being the Meswett, and sometimes it was just about feeling completely and utterly lost in what had become of my life.
“Right, apologies,” Dominic said, letting his French accent deepen and flashing his killer smile. “Just don’t let him off too easy when he finally realizes his mistake and returns.”
“Not a chance,” I agreed.
Josh whispered, “Would you guys mind saving this private conversation for somewhere a little more private
?” He hitched his head toward the rows of Nejerets with exceptional hearing packed into the courtroom. They were all sitting quietly, intently focused on something . . . on us.
Heightened senses, it turned out, was just another genetic trait coded into our Nejeret DNA. My hearing and sight had been improving noticeably, though neither had yet developed the sensitivity of a fully manifested Nejeret, and it was proving to be less of a perk than I’d expected. Falling asleep was not as easy as it used to be, especially not when I could hear almost everything people were saying or doing in the nearby rooms.
I opened my mouth to respond at the exact moment the door to the jury room opened, announcing the return of the jury. The twelve men and women filed back to their seats. None looked at me as the jury announced its verdict of “Not Guilty” to a half-outraged, half-ecstatic courtroom.
I bowed my head to hide an inappropriate smile. I’d been doing something I wasn’t supposed to do: peering into the possible futures to find out when Marcus might return. After the first time I’d done it, Saga and Heimdall had explained to me that not only was it against Nejeret law to look into the future At without Council approval, it was also a major faux pas. With our heightened senses and ability to peek into the past, we had little enough privacy, and looking into someone’s future uninvited was a serious invasion of that precious commodity. Heeding their advice, I had continued searching for Marcus’s return but had stopped telling them about it. What I’d learned in the At was the cause for my smile. In all of the futures I viewed, losing the trial signaled Marcus’s immediate return.
“Come on, Lex, let’s get you out of here. The press is going to become more and more voracious the longer they have to wait,” Dominic said.
How my date-rape case against Mike had piqued the interest of the mainstream media baffled me, but I suspected Set’s meddlesome hands were pulling the strings. Anything to make my life harder seemed to tickle him pink. I really didn’t like him.
“I’m not talking to the press,” I told Dominic vehemently.
Josh had signaled for Sandra, Vali, and five of my largest bodyguards to meet me in the aisle. After quick words, Sandra hustled away, corralling several dozen more Nejeret bodyguards with her.
“Nobody wants to talk to the press,” Dominic said, guiding me toward the aisle. “But they want to talk to you. We’ll get you through the crowd as quickly as possible. The car’s already waiting.”
Sadly, I nodded, and then I turned to my waiting family.
“Oh sweetie, we’re so sorry that—that cretin is getting away with—with what he did to you,” my Mom said between sobs. I gave her a hug, unable to tell her that Nejeret justice would take over since the human version had failed, and Nejeret justice was far harsher.
“It’s okay, Mom, I’m just glad it’s over,” I told her, and I meant it. Reliving the awful experience in the At was one thing, but recounting every detail, repeatedly, before a packed courtroom was another entirely. Besides, I was tired of all of the character-bashing and victim-blame.
My father wrapped his arms around us both. “Someday, Lelee, that little shit will pay for what he did.”
I really didn’t like the note of promise in his voice. “I know, Dad, someday he will pay. Just don’t do anything stupid . . .” . . . like personally getting revenge on your daughter’s attempted rapist.
“Meswett,” Dominic whispered, loud enough for me to hear, but too quiet for my parents’ human ears to pick up. It was time to go.
“I’m really sorry Mom, Dad”—I peeked over their shoulders to offer a tight smile to Jenny and Grandma Suse—“but I absolutely have to get back to work. I’m lucky the director didn’t kick me off the team for taking so much time with the trial,” I said, squeezing them one last time.
“I’m proud of you for taking this so well, sweetie,” my mom said tearfully. “You’ve had such a rough few months . . .” She was referring not only to her revelation about my parentage, but also to what Seattle police had deemed a “freak gang show-down” that had taken place in my apartment while I’d been out—I definitely didn’t feel the need to correct that mistaken assumption—and, of course, the trial.
I pulled away, my motions hesitant. I really did miss my family. “I’ll talk to you soon, okay,” I promised.
“Of course, sweetie,” my mom said, closely followed by my father’s “We love you, Lex.”
Turning away, I willed myself not to cry. As Dominic sprang to my side and six bodyguards encircled us, I wondered for the thousandth time how odd my entourage must’ve looked to my parents. How were they justifying the scene in their minds? They hadn’t mentioned anything about it to me. Perhaps they thought the excavation director was a paranoid billionaire concerned with losing his ancient languages specialist? Or maybe they thought he was simply a billionaire who had become enamored with their little girl?
“Lex! I’m sorry, Lex!” Cara shouted from outside my cocoon of muscle. “Lex? Please say you’ll forgive me!”
I ignored her and continued out of the courtroom, across a wide, marble hallway to the elevators, and down to the waiting throng of reporters. Stupid Set . . .
To my immense relief, Sandra and dozens of Nejeret guards had managed to create a pathway from the courthouse door to my waiting car. I wouldn’t have to speak into single microphone about the injustice of the verdict. I wouldn’t have to listen politely as a reporter badgered me into an emotional reaction or shocking revelation. I wanted to crow with delight or possibly kiss the small woman. She was a tactical genius and a killer chess player—I’d yet to beat her, and we played almost every evening. It was my favorite part of Meswett training—learning how to think strategically via chess.
Dominic opened the black sedan’s rear door, helped me into the backseat, and then took his own place in the front passenger seat. Neffe was already sitting in the backseat, grinning knowingly.
“Neffe, you know that’s not the appropriate reaction to losing a trial, right?” I asked her suspiciously. The more I’d gotten to know her, the more I’d grown to appreciate her oddities . . . and she had many of them.
She raised a single, arched eyebrow and said, “He’s back. He’s waiting for you at the compound.”
Relief flooded my body, and I finally felt like I could breathe. “It’s about time.”
21
Hello & Goodbye
The two-hour trip back to the Heru compound on Bainbridge Island had been torturous, as was the walk through the house and up the stairs to my suite, where I knew Marcus awaited me. Dominic was by my side as usual, while Neffe kept pace on my left. Vali led our silent procession, and Sandra brought up the rear. Even with all the people around me, I felt completely alone.
Vali pushed through the door to my sitting room, and I waited the usual thirty seconds for the all-clear, a four-toned whistle. It put a serious dent in my day when I had to wait for my guards to search and approve every room I intended to enter. I missed being a nobody. I missed being able to relax, drink wine, eat cheese and popcorn, and watch comic book movies with Cara and Annie. Not like that’ll ever happen again, I thought bitterly.
Vali whistled. I took a deep breath, then another, and walked through the doorway.
Marcus stood at the center window on the opposite side of the room, looking down on the immaculately manicured grounds. He was a king surveying his realm, a god observing his creation. At the sight of him in his impeccable charcoal suit, my chest exploded with joy. He clashed with the sitting room’s warm decor—soft greens, oranges, and creams accented the oak furniture and papered the walls. I loved my rooms, felt comfortable in them, and Marcus didn’t seem to belong. I didn’t like that.
“Leave us,” he ordered quietly.
Vali looked to me, and at my nod, ushered everyone back out to the hallway . . . everyone except Dominic, who refused to leave.
Dominic had become extremely attached to me, as I’d become to him. His constant presence soothed me when little else would ease my
perpetual heartache. He would tell me stories of his early childhood in the Loire Valley, of his many exciting adventures across Europe over the centuries, and what it was like to watch the world change around him while he remained, more or less, the same.
I touched his arm, saying, “Dom, I’ll be fine. He won’t hurt me.”
Dominic peered down at me with sad eyes. “He already has,” he said softly, though the glare he shot Marcus was diamond-hard.
Marcus watched Dominic leave, irritation tightening the skin around his eyes. “You two seem to have become quite close,” he observed.
I marched between a pale-green sofa and a glass-topped coffee table straight toward Marcus and slapped his perfect face as hard as I could. “Ow!” I howled immediately after, shaking my stinging palm.
He didn’t even have the decency to pretend it had hurt.
“You are such an asshole, Heru!” I screeched, hitting him in the chest with my open hands. “And an idiot!” I hit him again. “And a coward!” Again. “And a—”
He reached up and caught my wrists in an iron grip. “I’ve been called many things, Little Ivanov, but never a coward. And I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t use that name.”
“What name?” I spat. His hold on me was unbreakable. No matter how hard I tugged, I couldn’t pull my wrists free.
“Heru,” he said with disgust.
That caught me off guard, and I stopped struggling. “But it’s your name. You made that very clear the last time I saw you.” I didn’t tell him that, to me, he would always be Marcus.
His tiger eyes flashed with anger. “I told you once before that I preferred for you to call me Marcus. That preference has not changed.”
I raised my eyebrows. “What? So everyone else can call you by your real name, but I get stuck with your most recent pseudonym?”
His grip tightened, and he raked his eyes over my face, shoulders, and chest. The anger lighting his gaze transformed into heat of another kind—desire. I didn’t know what he found so exciting, dressed as I was in a cream silk blouse and tailored black blazer. “I have no desire for everyone else to see me as I would have you see me.”