We’d yet to catch a single one of the Senate terrorists riddling the world with mistrust for our kind, but now that I had what had to be one of them in my sights, so to speak, I was determined not to lose her. I would catch this psycho, and the first moment I was able to, I would transport her back to the Heru compound on Bainbridge Island through a gateway, where she would talk. We would make her.
Then, finally, we would have some understanding as to why the Senate was so hell-bent on destroying the human world. Once we knew their genocidal purpose, hopefully then we would be able to stop them. But first, I had to catch this woman.
For a fraction of a second, I caught sight of the Nejeret. She was rounding the block and disappeared behind the corner of a four-story building. I had the briefest glimpse of her before centuries-old weathered stone and orange-brown stucco blocked my view of her.
I kicked it into high gear, pumping my arms and pushing my legs to their limit. I kept myself in good shape, but I was no sprinter, and my heart and lungs strained under the effort to run at full tilt for more than a short burst. It didn’t help that my ballet flats definitely weren’t made for running.
I reached the corner of the block maybe fifteen seconds after my quarry, but I couldn’t pick her out among the rushing streams of people fleeing from the massive sinkhole that had been swallowing up the street just moments ago. The earth still shook as the sinkhole expanded, but the barrier of At would protect everyone from at least that danger.
I slowed to a walk, breathing hard and left hand pinching my side. Eyes searching, I scoured every potential hiding spot on this side of the street. There was a long string of storefronts, each with a recessed alcove for the door into the shop or restaurant. There were any number of places where the Nejeret could have retreated, but there was only one way to find out where.
Cautiously, I made my way up the street, hugging the building’s exterior where a bit of a clearing allowed me to move past the stream of frantic people fleeing the area. There was no sign of the Nejeret, and for a moment, I feared I’d lost her.
But my palm still burned with that telltale warning. I shook out my hand, though it did nothing to ease the pain. Which meant she was close. I hadn’t lost her yet.
“Ah!” a woman shouted as she burst out through the open doorway to a bakery, beige head scarf falling back from her hair. She rammed into my shoulder, knocking me off balance.
I stumbled to the side, bumped into a passerby, and spun around, only to trip over a folding sign that had been knocked over by the rush of people. I failed to catch myself and went sprawling to the ground. I grunted, my forearm scraping along loose grit and gravel scattered over the smooth At covering the paving stones. The tiny rocks cut deep gouges, lodging into my skin.
Looked like I’d found the Nejeret. Or, rather, she’d found me.
Unlike me, she was able to maintain her footing post-impact. When she saw me falling, she took advantage of the situation, taking off at a dead sprint.
“Oh, hell no,” I said, fumbling with the trick latch on my belt buckle. It was a new belt, a classier, more delicate version that matched my new business-casual public persona, and I’d yet to master the latch.
Finally, I freed the little push dagger hidden in the buckle and rolled onto my knees. I extended one leg, planted my shoe on the ground to give myself a steady base, waited a half of a second for the perfect moment, and flung my hand out toward the Nejeret, releasing the dagger point first. I held my breath as the push dagger flew through a gap between the rushing people.
The knife hit home, burying its two-inch blade in the back of the Nejeret’s thigh.
Her hamstring seized up, and she stumbled forward, tripping over her own feet. She landed on her shoulder on the sidewalk, her long, dark hair cascading over her face. A few of the fleeing people glanced her way, but nobody stopped to check if she was alright. They were too worried about their own lives to concern themselves with the life of a stranger.
I pushed up from the ground and brushed off my hands as I closed in on the Nejeret, my long strides eating the distance between us.
She rolled partway onto her back and pushed herself up onto her elbow. Her other hand slid into the opening of her trench coat.
I was five steps away . . . four . . . three.
She pulled out a Glock from her coat and aimed the gun straight at my face.
I froze, just a couple steps from her.
And, much to my surprise, so did the Nejeret with her gun aimed at me. So did everybody else around me. And not out of fear of the gun.
The world had been muted, and time itself had stopped, holding everyone utterly immobile in that moment between moments.
Everyone but me.
I blinked, breath held. I was afraid to move. I was afraid that doing anything at all would make time restart and leave me with a nice-sized hole in my head. But even as I stood there, frozen by fear, my thoughts were free to spin out of control.
Had I done this? Was this some new manifestation of my powers? Was my unique connection to the universe caused by the threads of At and anti-At marbling my ba and ramping up my magical powers now giving me control over time itself? It wasn’t inconceivable; Netjers, the species mine was partially descended from, had that power. It was the greatest, most terrifying power they had. It was the kind of power that could destroy worlds. Or a whole universe.
Not too long ago, it almost destroyed my universe.
I gulped, suddenly afraid for an entirely new reason. I certainly didn’t want that kind of power.
“Greetings, Katarina,” a familiar voice said from behind me.
I gasped and spun around.
And sure enough, there Anapa stood. The real-life inspiration for the ancient Egyptian god of the dead, Anubis, towered over the crowd of humans-turned-statues surrounding us, his angular, alien features marking him as something not of this world. As something not of this universe.
I was so stunned by his sudden appearance—he certainly knew how to make an impact—that all I could do was stare at him.
Anapa bowed his head in greeting. “I hope you are well.”
I opened my mouth, then shut it again and nodded.
“Apologies for the interruption, but I’m afraid I need you to come with me.”
My eyebrows drew together. “Come with you?” I said, finally finding my voice. “Where?” I frowned. “Why?” I glanced over my shoulder, just to make sure the Nejeret was still frozen.
She was. And her gun was still aimed at me.
I took a quick step to the side, not willing to chance that time wouldn’t restart at any second, allowing her to blow my brains out.
Anapa clasped his hands behind his back. “You must come with me to the Netjer universe,” he said. “To stand trial.”
4
“I’m sorry—what?” I stared at Anapa, pretty sure I hadn’t heard him right. He wanted me to come with him to the Netjer universe? To stand trial? Me?
Anapa’s expression gave little away—not that it was ever really easy to pick up on emotional cues from his alien facial features—and his polite blandness made my hackles rise.
I narrowed my eyes, watching him warily.
“You must come with me to the Netjer universe,” he repeated. “There is no time to waste.”
Utterly stumped, I watched him walk over to the bakery and press his hand against the stone wall to the left of the display window. When he pulled his hand away, a silvery disk the size of a poker chip remained stuck to the wall.
“What are you . . .” My words trailed off as the disk began to spin seemingly all on its own.
Anapa stepped away from the wall and headed back toward me.
But I couldn’t tear my eyes from the disk and what it was doing to the building’s exterior wall. The weathered gray stones shifted unnaturally around the disk, slowly swirling like they were being melted and stirred from that central point outward, turning that part of the wall into a gravity-defying whirlpo
ol. It made a sound like wind rushing through the trees near a raging waterfall.
That gray vortex grew with each rotation of the disk until it was as tall as the door to the bakery and just as wide as it was tall. I couldn’t see what lay beyond the surface, but I was pretty sure I was staring at a portal to another universe.
Anapa held his hand out to me. “Come, Katarina,” he said, like I was his obedient dog.
I took a small backward step, then another, startling when I bumped into one of the thousands of frozen-in-time people littering the street and sidewalk. I shook my head. “I can’t leave,” I told Anapa as I sidestepped around the human statue. “I have a shit-ton of things to do here—right now.” I glanced at the Nejeret with the gun, my soon-to-be captive. She was one of those things on my to-do list, and I wasn’t about to risk losing such a valuable prisoner.
Anapa clasped his hands together behind his back once more, the corners of his mouth turning down the slightest bit. That minute but monumental change in his expression gave me hope that my words were getting through to him. Might as well keep at it, then.
I pointed to the Nejeret. “Do you have any idea what capturing this chick would mean for my people—for the whole world?” I lowered my arm. “It would be a huge win, not to mention a chance to stop whatever else she might have planned today. Two bombs have already gone off. Who’s to say she’s not about to detonate a dozen more?”
“She is not,” Anapa said.
I blinked, drawing back in surprise and bumping into another frozen person. “You don’t know that.”
“I do, in fact,” Anapa said. And before I could argue further, he added, “I already disarmed all of the explosives set to detonate in this city today.”
I sputtered, unable to form a response.
Anapa was always making excuses about not being able to interfere with the goings-on of this universe—it was always observe, learn, and decide with him—but now he doesn’t bat an eye at altering the natural course of events and saving gods knew how many lives by singlehandedly putting an end to one of the Senate’s terrorist attacks. What was even more irritating was the fact that he’d just left the first two bombs to go off as planned. There was no saying how high the body count already was, but I wasn’t holding out hopes for a single-digit number.
My hands balled into fists, and my jaw clenched as I struggled with that rapidly expanding irritation. “That’s just a tad hypocritical, don’t you think?” I finally managed to say. Maybe I should’ve thanked him instead of chastising him, but come on—how many times had I asked for his help in the past only to be turned down by his boilerplate it’s-against-the-rules response? A few times. Too many.
“Perhaps,” Anapa said.
My lip curled in distaste, and I crossed my arms over my chest. Smug might have been an ugly look for me, but gods, it felt good.
“However,” Anapa continued, “my interference was necessary. You would not have agreed to come with me if the people of this city were still at risk, and your willing participation in this matter is essential.”
I pressed my lips together, processing his words. If he’d broken the rules he seemed to hold in such high regard—and in such a big way—just to get me to come with him, then this trial thing had to be a pretty goddamn big deal.
“Katarina, please,” Anapa said, taking a step toward me and extending one hand like some old-timey gentleman. “Come with me. The fate of this universe depends on your cooperation.”
I rolled my eyes and let out a none-too-gentle snort. “Like I haven’t heard that before,” I said. But even through my attempt at making light of the situation, my stomach twisted into knots.
A moment later, I realized that the sense of dread—the anticipation of a fast-approaching shitstorm—had vanished the second that disk started to spin. My heart plummeted. There wasn’t a threat on the horizon any longer.
Because it was here.
Where the dread had been, there was now only heart-pounding fear. This was it: the portal, or the trip to the Netjer universe, was what I’d been so worried about. I just hadn’t known it until now.
I shook my head and backed up another step. And another. “I can’t go with you,” I told him again, slowly navigating my way backward through the forest of people. I wasn’t refusing to go with Anapa because I had better things to do here—though I did—but because whatever awaited me on the other side of that portal was the big bad I’d been sensing.
“Katarina,” Anapa said, taking another step toward me.
“No!” I raised my left hand. My palm felt like it had spontaneously combusted, and a brilliant light burst forth from the Eye of Horus inked into my skin, washing Anapa in a hazy silver mist.
He froze mid-step, hand extended toward me and mouth partway open.
Just like that, Anapa, a full-fledged Netjer, joined the ranks of the people frozen in time all around me. I had no idea how I’d done it, and even less of an idea of how long it would last.
I stared at Anapa for a millisecond, then turned on my heel and ran away from him and his damn portal as fast as I could. Fleeing like this was maybe not the most well-thought-out plan, but then, planning ahead had never really been my strong suit.
I dodged this way and that around the frozen people crowding the sidewalk, moving to the street where the human obstacles were slightly less densely packed. I was about a half a block down the street when logic kicked in.
I couldn’t fight off Anapa on my own. I needed the help of the most powerful Nejeret I knew—Nik. Maybe I was technically powerful enough to hold my own against Anapa—after all, he was the one who had told me I had the magical prowess of a Netjer, maybe even more—but my control over my burgeoning powers was still growing and often spotty at best. With Nik by my side, though, my odds were at least slightly better.
I made an abrupt about-face, heading back the way I’d come. When I reached the spot where the portal to the Netjer universe still swirled in the bakery’s gray stone wall, I missed a step.
Anapa was gone.
I stopped, frantically turning around and around, searching the immediate area for him. But there was no sign of him.
“Shit,” I muttered. My fight-or-flight response kicked in, and I turned toward the plume of blackish smoke reaching high into the sky, leaned forward, and ran as fast as I could. I only made it six steps.
Some hidden force stopped me mid-stride, holding me in place. It was like I’d stepped into a block of cement, only it was transparent and I could still breathe. What I couldn’t do was move.
“I truly regret that it had to come to this, Katarina,” Anapa said from somewhere off to my right. Based on the sound of his voice, I placed him just beyond the edge of my peripheral vision. “I had hoped my past actions had earned your trust enough that you would accompany me willingly. I am not a fan of threats, especially not threats aimed at one I respect so highly.”
He moved into sight, another form following along with him, the only things moving among the forest of frozen people. I recognized his companion instantly, and my heart skipped a beat.
It was Nik. He was trailing Anapa, walking along seemingly of his own free will, but the color of his irises—or lack thereof—suggested otherwise. The pale blue hue I’d come to know and love was gone, replaced by an iridescent shade reminiscent of opals and moonstones I recognized all too well from the days when Nik had shared his body with another soul—the Netjer, Re.
A sense of cold horror washed over me.
Re, cocreator of this universe alongside Apep, had been invited to cohabitate within Nik’s body by Nik himself some five thousand years ago, just moments after Re’s former host was murdered. For thousands of years, the two had shared body and mind, and all had seemed well . . . until someone came along and threw a wrench in their happy partnership. That’s right, I’m talking about little old me.
Thanks to the anti-At lacing my ba, I’m a bit of an anomaly. According to the rules of this universe, I shouldn’
t exist—I should have been eradicated from the timeline completely—but thanks to Nik’s quick action, here I am. And now, because of the At and anti-At that had come to be as much a part of my soul as my sheut—I’m connected to the universe in a way that makes me a whole lot more powerful than the average Nejeret. Possibly even more powerful than a Netjer. That might have a little something to do with why Re had been so dead set on ending my unnatural existence time and again over the years.
Nik, however, was pretty keen on my life continuing, even back then. We hadn’t known it at the time, but his devotion to my continued existence was probably caused by our souls’ perfect compatibility and our potential to share the strongest, deepest connection possible—a soul bond. Because of me, Nik and Re reached an impasse that resulted in a three-year coma for Nik and a one-way escorted trip back to the Netjer universe for Re. Or, at least, I’d thought it was one way.
Based on Nik’s eye color, Re was back. And Nik wasn’t in charge at the moment; Re was.
My gut twisted, horror and rage a living thing inside me. What would this mean for Nik? Would he be damned to spend the rest of his life sharing his body with Re? And what would it mean for our bond? The disturbing possibilities were too plentiful to count.
I stared at Nik—at Re—for a moment longer, then shifted my focus to Anapa.
He’d done this. He’d stolen my bond-mate’s free will. It was his fault.
Anger was a wildfire burning through my veins. I felt the familiar swell of otherworldly energy within my sheut, overflowing into my ba and out into my body. It saturated my entire being in a single heartbeat, body and soul bursting with power, demanding release. I let it out, easy as exhaling.
Whatever spell Anapa had cast over me to hold me in place shattered. The invisible restraints disintegrated, raining down around me in a fine, glittering mist before dissolving into nothingness.
My chest rose and fell heavily, and my hands curled into tight fists. “What did you do to him?” I said, more a demand than a question.
Judgement (Kat Dubois Chronicles Book 5) Page 3