My mouth hung open as I stared at him. He couldn’t really be talking about me, could he?
“You are the only one who can challenge her,” he said. “You are the only one who can change the way things are, and we must strike before she realizes just how much of a threat you truly are.”
I’d had a lot thrown my way in the past—insurmountable tasks and a shit-ton of responsibility that I’d never wanted—but this was different. Save your brother. Save your species. Save your world. Save your universe—I was still working on that last one. They were all huge things, and I’d failed at some, but I’d surprised myself by succeeding more often than not.
But this—this was so far outside of the realm of what was possible that it made me physically ill. Take on the Mother of All. The creator of everything that had ever existed. Ever.
My stomach roiled, and I covered my mouth with my hand. Those burgers weren’t just threatening to come up; they were on their way. I rushed into the bathroom once more, barely making it to the toilet.
Anapa wandered in between heaves four and five, his footsteps slow and steady. He gathered my hair out of my hands and held it up for me. “I know this is a lot to take in,” he said, “but I never would have brought you here if I was not certain that you are our best chance to overthrow her.”
I yacked one last time, but nothing came up. I spat into the toilet, flushed, and closed my eyes, focusing on taking deep, even breaths. My abdominal muscles ached from the violent spasms, and tears streamed down my cheeks. I crossed my forearms over the opening in the toilet seat and rested my cheek on the backs of my arms.
“I’m so fucking tired,” I said, voice hoarse.
“Ah . . .” Anapa released my hair, settling it gently on my back. “I shall leave you to rest, then.”
“No,” I said, laughing hollowly. “I’m not sleepy. I’m tired—of everything. Of having to be something to everyone. Of being the last chance. The only hope. The one.” I lifted my head and looked at Anapa. “I’m just tired.”
I wished Nik was there. Desperately. And not just because his presence would alleviate the throbbing in my skull. He was the best at grounding me when it all became too much and I started flailing. He could bring me back to the here and now better than anyone else. He could help me see the why when the what and how seemed insurmountable. But he was back in my home universe, waiting to fall victim to the Mother of fucking All, just like everyone else I loved.
Anapa stood in the doorway, compassion shining in his midnight eyes and uncertainty transforming his features from alien to something very human. Or maybe it was just that I was getting used to his Netjer expressions.
I shifted, sitting back against the wall and drawing my knees up. I couldn’t get a grasp on the task he’d just chucked my way. It was too immense, filled with too many question marks. My brain could handle big, but it needed some defining elements to transform the task from impossible to just really fucking hard. I needed to understand the scope of what was at stake, because “everything” wasn’t cutting it.
I sucked in a shaky breath, then exhaled slowly. “Tell me, Anapa—how many worlds in my universe have some form of life?” I asked.
Anapa’s eyebrows rose. “I am not sure. Billions, I think, but that is just a rough estimate. Re would know the exact number.”
“Huh.” I smiled to myself, shaking my head. Aliens—the traditional kind, not the godly kind—were real. That was kind of awesome. “And how many of those worlds have some form of intelligent life?” I asked.
“Are you speaking of beings who are self-aware?”
I nodded.
“Tens, maybe hundreds of thousands,” Anapa said. “And that’s just in your universe alone.”
Which brought me to my next question. “Right, and how many universes are out there?”
“Currently?”
That single-worded question made my stomach quiver with renewed nausea. It was an unintentional reminder of just how many universes had been created and destroyed before my time. How many self-aware life-forms had fallen when those universes had been harvested, not a hope in hell to fight back?
I squeezed my hands into tight fists. I wasn’t just overwhelmed anymore. Now I was angry, too. Good. I could use that anger to fuel what Anapa was asking me to do. What I had to do.
“Just over seven thousand, I believe,” he said in answer to my question.
My eyes bulged. “Seven—” I choked on my saliva and had to swallow several times before I could speak again. “Seven thousand?” I cleared my throat. “There are seven thousand universes out there right now? Seriously?”
“Yes,” Anapa said. “I am quite serious.”
“And each of those universes has a pair of Netjer caretakers?”
“Yes. Every Netjer is paired up and given a fledgling universe to cultivate when they come of age.” Anapa looked away from me, focusing instead on the toilet paper holder to the right of my head. I had the distinct impression that he was avoiding making eye contact with me.
I studied him through narrowed eyes. This whole Netjer coming-of-age thing was news to me. And as a Netjer who was very distinctly mature, that meant Anapa had gone through the whole universe-cultivating thing himself. “What happened to your universe?” I finally asked.
“Which one?” he said, gaze growing distant. “I have raised and shaped more universes than any other Netjer alive. I was unaware of what happened to them when—well, I suppose that does not matter anymore. All of my universes have since been harvested by the Mother of All.” He finally looked at me, the sorrow in his midnight eyes giving me chills. “All are dead.”
It was clear that Anapa mourned his universes, each and every one. At some point, that sorrow must have become too great, and he’d snapped. The system of cultivate and harvest didn’t sit well with him. Unlike the other Netjers who were aware of the situation, he didn’t buy into the Mother’s propaganda. The status quo wasn’t good enough for him.
Anapa was ready for a change. I just hoped he wasn’t the only one, because if it was just the two of us . . .
Shit. My thinking had already shifted. I was out of the why-me, this-is-impossible rut and heading straight for let’s-do-this. I wish I could’ve said I was surprised. Nik probably would’ve been wearing a smirk that screamed I told you so.
I sighed and placed my hands against the wall behind me, using them to leverage myself up to my feet. I brushed a few stray strands of hair out of my face and met Anapa’s questioning stare. “So, how do we do this?”
18
It took a few hours—or so I guessed, since I didn’t actually have access to anything that would tell me how much time had passed—for Anapa and me to put together a plan that didn’t sound like straight-up suicide. I would sit tight and hone my power until I was strong enough to cut the ties between universes. Here, or in my own universe—it didn’t really matter. I just needed a little more time. I just needed to be a little bit stronger. Whatever the verdict, time was what we needed most. So long as I wasn’t executed, the plan could work.
Once I was strong enough, we would strike. While the Mother was off harvesting the energy from some poor, unsuspecting universe, I would sever the connection between that universe and the mother universe, isolating the Mother of All in the very same universe she’d been destroying, totally cut off from everything she’d created. Then, with the Mother out of the way, I would free Isfet, and we would instate her as the new Mother of All…one that didn’t devour entire universes just to boost her power.
As the plan stood, it set me on edge, but in a good way. In an excited way. A focused, let’s-do-this sort of way.
I was pleased to discover that Anapa and I weren’t alone in our rebellion. The spokeswoman of the High Council was a supporter, however quietly, as were a few other, less notable Netjers. Apep, Re’s partner in cultivating and caring for my universe, was among them, though he’d been found out and imprisoned a while back. Anapa had only recently let Re in o
n the plan, once he saw how reticent the other Netjer had been to share the Isfet information at the trial and realized that my universe was the most important thing to Re. He would fight to save it, no matter the risk.
Anapa sat in the purple armchair in the corner while I paced back and forth across the room, needing the movement to help me think. He nibbled on burgers and fries every now and again, but I’d opted for a single, massive gorging shortly after my vomit-fest. My body had needed the energy desperately, especially after the regenerative sleep. Especially considering what we had planned.
Soon, the Mother of All and her High Council would call me back into the trial chamber to announce their verdict. Either my universe would be allowed to continue on until harvest time—likely with some modifications—or it would be severed from the Netjer universe and left to wither into the thing I’d seen in my dreams.
A seed of dread settled into the pit of my stomach. I expected them to announce the latter, if only because of the dream. The echo. It was a real, horrifying possibility and, according to Anapa, the more likely one. He was even more certain after I shared the dream with him.
But that wouldn’t mean the end of the world. At least, not right away. According to Anapa, the Mother was the only one who had the power to excise a universe, and it required a shit-ton of energy on her part. In the past, it had taken her the earth equivalent of a week or two to amass the required energy. Which meant I had that same amount of time to build up my tolerance to the searing pain that accompanied tapping into the Essence and learn to control that wild, alien energy rather than relying on the distant energy from my native universe. Then, I would be strong enough to do the impossible. I would become the champion of enslaved universes, and I would steal them all from her.
Or I would end up dead.
It was kind of a toss-up, and the odds weren’t really in my favor. But at least we had a plan. At least there was a chance. It was better than sitting here, waiting for the Mother of All to kill my whole world. My whole universe.
Anapa sat up straighter suddenly, cocking his head to the side like he could hear something I couldn’t. “Sian is coming,” he said, standing, his focus moving to the wall.
“So soon?” I, too, stared at the wall, though I couldn’t hear the doorway forming yet.
We should’ve had more time. The High Council had granted me a full earth day to recover, and we’d been counting on that time. Anapa had wanted to be out of here before the other Netjer came to fetch me. It would’ve been best if there was as little evidence of collusion as possible. Too late now.
I heard the crackling, whooshing sound before the doorway started to form. My heart rate sped up, my pulse fluttering in my neck. I took a step backward, feeling the temporary urge to flee.
Damn it, I was acting like a guilty person. To be fair, in the Netjer’s minds, I technically was a guilty person. A rebel. I was plotting the downfall of their way of life, after all. But they didn’t need to know that.
I straightened my spine and squared my shoulders, crossing my arms over my chest.
Sian walked into my cell, his slanted, too-large eyes widening when he saw Anapa.
Tapping my foot, I raised my eyebrows pointedly, feigning annoyance. “Took you long enough,” I said before Sian could ask Anapa any questions or make any accusations. “I’ve had to listen to this guy lecturing me about the proper way to show respect to the Mother of All and the High Council forever.” I brought my hand up to the side of my head, two fingers pointed to my temple in mimicry of the barrel of a gun. I made a soft shooting noise, then let my head droop to the side as I lowered my hand.
Sian looked from me to Anapa and back, his expression impossible to read. “The Mother of All has grown impatient. The High Council is ready for you,” he finally said. He shot one more look Anapa’s way, then stepped back through the doorway.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, attempting to channel the nervous energy flowing through me into focus and determination. It didn’t work. After I exhaled, I still felt like a sparking live wire.
“Well,” I said, opening my eyes and looking at Anapa. “Here goes nothing.” I crossed the room and followed Sian out through the doorway. I could hear Anapa falling into step behind me.
I followed Sian down the long hallway and into the courtroom, Anapa close on my heels. Now that I was in on the subversion, it was easier to temper my anger. Less easy was suppressing the smirk that kept trying to make an appearance on my face every time I glanced the High Council’s way. Something about knowing things they didn’t added a little pep to my step.
The Mother of All had yet to arrive, despite her being the one who’d been in such a hurry to get things underway. I supposed she liked making a grand entrance. She struck me as a showy kind of gal. But the High Council was all there and seated when I entered the trial chamber, their stares hard and expressions inscrutable.
What had they decided? Off with her universe? Or would they show mercy? Would they just send me home? The last was such a distant possibility that it was verging on impossible territory. I bottled up my hopes and threw them away. They wouldn’t do me any good here.
I made my way to the table, front and center before the High Council’s dais. There was only one chair there now. Sian continued past the table to take up his guard stance against the far wall. A quick glance showed me that Anapa had taken up a stance mirroring Sian on the opposite side of the room, and I found Re sitting in the front row among the spectators behind me. I was desperate to ask him about Nik. How was he doing? Had they had any luck with the reverse possession? It was sort of integral to the plan, since that was the only way we would potentially be able to slow my impending death-by-bonding-withdrawals and buy me some more time here. But instead of talking to Re, I had to settle for exchanging a minimal nod of acknowledgment.
I pulled out the lonely chair at the table, intending to sit.
“Remain on your feet, Katarina Dubois,” the Netjer spokeswoman said, voice booming.
I froze, fingers gripping the top of the wooden chairback.
Not a second later, the Mother of All appeared at the center of the dais in a glittering cloud of white. The members of the High Council clambered to their feet, bowing their heads and covering their faces with their hands. But the Mother hardly seemed to notice or care about their hasty deference. Her eyes were locked on me.
After a moment of rebellious hesitation, I, too, bowed my head and covered my face. At least hidden like that, I could unleash the full smirk I’d been holding back. It was either that or scream—the nervous energy coursing through my body kept spiking higher, and I was walking on a razor’s edge emotionally. So freaking much was at stake. Literally everything.
I inhaled and exhaled, slowly, evenly. Much as I wanted to freak out right now, it was so not the time. In fact, it was pretty much the worst possible time to lose my shit ever. Like, ever ever.
“There’s no need for that,” the Mother said a solid thirty seconds into our collective benediction. I mentally called bullshit on her claim. She ate this worship shit up like a kid with a plastic pumpkin full of Halloween candy. “Please,” she said, “be seated.”
I lowered my hands and stepped around the chair to sit.
“Not you,” the Mother said, raising a delicate, shimmering hand and pointing at me.
I froze, my butt inches from the seat of the chair, fingers gripping the wooden edges.
The Mother turned her hand over and crooked her finger, sending flashes of light glinting off her multifaceted diamond skin. “Come. Stand before us and receive our judgement.”
Receive our judgement. I had to suppress a sneer and swallow a disgusted laugh. What a piece of work. My fingernails dug into the wood of the chair, and I gritted my teeth. I could see where the council spokeswoman had learned a few of her power trip tricks.
Joints creaking, I stood back up and, channeling the poise and grace that seemed to come so naturally to my sister, Lex, made my way
around the table to the center of the floor before the High Council. I stuffed my hands into the pockets of my leather jacket, only to be disappointed to find the right pocket empty. I’d left my tarot cards back in my cell.
“Your universe is severely out of balance,” the Mother of All stated, “and the near-chaos there is a threat to all.” She paused, her stare never leaving me. She drew out that moment of quiet, no doubt for dramatic effect. She wanted to make me sweat. This was a show to her. The Mother of All may have been the creator of all life and the most powerful being in all the, well, everything, but underneath all of that flash and glitter, she was really just a greedy, power-hungry leech. I could barely stand to look at her.
I clenched my jaw so hard that my teeth ground together audibly. In my pockets, my hands curled into fists. I couldn’t wait until I was strong enough to take her down. Even if I ended up failing, I would make sure that I landed at least one good hit across her smug face before she destroyed me.
“But,” the Mother finally said, “we do not believe your universe to be unsalvageable.”
The seed of dread that had planted itself in my stomach the moment Anapa showed up in Rome vanished. The Mother of All wasn’t going to cut us off. We weren’t doomed, at least not imminently so. It was good news. Great news. Oh, who was I kidding, it was fucking fantastic news. I even allowed a hint of a smile through. I couldn’t help it.
The Mother of All saw my teeny tiny smile and reflected it back to me on her own face. But something in her eyes caused my smile to wilt away even as hers widened. “Your universe is sick,” she said, “and through your testimony, the source of the sickness has become all too clear.” She made another of those dramatic pauses.
Judgement (Kat Dubois Chronicles Book 5) Page 10