“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.
She will be the girl-child of Ivan.
She will acquire the ankh-At or
Mankind will wither under the weight of the Nothingness.
She will obey Set and destroy mankind or
She will defy Set and mankind will prevail.
She will decide and either mankind or Set will be destroyed.
I was shaking. “Obey Set? Defy him how? Make what decision? Destroy mankind?” I interrupted. “There must be other descendants of those two lines! This has to be about someone else! You don’t even know if it’s real!” I exclaimed, but Marcus just continued, shifting his hand so his fingers were again entwined with mine.
The girl-child of Set, the girl-child of Ivan will be born.
Neffe looked at her father sharply, opening her mouth to interject, but the glare Marcus shot her would have silenced even the toughest, bravest, dumbest person.
The girl-child of Set, the girl child of Ivan must be protected.
The girl-child’s death will be the death of the world.
“No! This doesn’t make any sense!” I declared, looking into the eyes of each of the people seated around the table. “It’s wrong! If I die, I die … the world won’t die with me!” I cried, my voice breaking.
Silently, a tear slid down Neffe’s perfect cheek.
“Many have tried to open the chest containing the ankh-At, including Set, but none have succeeded, and since Set hid the chest away, none have been able to even find it … until now. The next verse seems to highlight your importance in accessing Nuin’s power once we enter the temple,” Marcus said coolly, ignoring my outburst.
I, Nuin, make inaccessible my power, the ankh-At.
The ankh-At must be accessed or the world will wither.
No person except for the girl-child shall be able to access the ankh-At.
“And finally,” Marcus said, “he leaves a message for you, Lex.”
Girl-child, know yourself and you shall know the gods.
Girl-child, trust yourself and you shall trust the gods.
So it ends, from start to finish,
as found in writing.
In the hush that fell over the room, I stood and backed away from the table. Five sets of pitying eyes were trained on me as traitorous tears poured down my cheeks.
Hollow, numb, and nauseated, I wanted to scream. “No … it’s wrong!” My voice was weak, trembling. “It’s a mistake! It’s not me! I have a life … I have things I want to do, to discover. I have people … I have … this can’t be about me. I’m just … I’m just Lex! I’m nobody special!”
Finally feeling the door handle behind me, I twisted it, opened the door, and fled the room. In the empty hallway, the sounds of my panicked flight resonated off the walls like bats flapping in a cavern. I heard footsteps behind me. I had to get away. I made it through the heavy metal door to the stairwell and down one flight of stairs before a body crashed into me from behind, catching me up in an unyielding embrace. I wanted to struggle, to fight my captor off and run away, but he was too strong.
“Calm down, Lex,” Marcus whispered near my ear. “No matter what you believe, this is real. You must be protected. Set could come after you at any moment. You cannot go wandering around on your own.” He paused, breathing heavily. “The future of humanity—of our people—depends on your safety.”
No, no, no! I thought, but I had no choice but to comply. Marcus was too strong, and if he was right about Nuin’s prophecy, about me … “Okay,” I breathed under his constricting hold. With that single word, he released me.
Gasping, I staggered forward and rested my forehead against the wall while I caught my breath. I could feel myself shutting down mentally, blocking out everything—thoughts, emotions—so I didn’t have to face what might be real.
“You’re going home, and I’m coming with you,” Marcus stated.
“Alexander?” I asked hollowly.
“Alex is going to visit Ivan. The others need to know the prophecy has been enacted. Come on,” Marcus said, taking my elbow and pulling me away from the wall.
In a numb fog, I let Marcus guide me outside, settle me into his car, and safely and swiftly deliver me to my apartment. Thora greeted our entrance with the utmost seriousness, meowing somberly and rubbing against our legs. I would have stayed standing in the middle of the apartment, focusing on the normalcy of my cat’s body twining around my ankles, if Marcus hadn’t led me to the couch and forced me to sit. He made food, though I had no idea what, and I ate it—it tasted like cardboard. Lobster would have tasted like cardboard.
“I don’t understand,” I said, watching Marcus remove the empty plate from my lap and carry it to the sink. It was the first time I’d spoken since we left Denny Hall.
Marcus washed the plates and set them on the drying rack, the perfect image of domesticity. I would have smiled if I’d remembered how.
“I know,” he said. He was standing in front of me, looking down with the fierce expression of a man who had once been believed to be a god. “How could you understand? You are so incredibly young … so innocent … so naïve.” He sighed. “We’ve been working on circumventing Nuin’s prophecy for thousands of years, but in the end, everything falls into the hands of a relative child. I still think there may be a way to nullify it altogether … but you don’t need to worry about that right now. You need to rest.”
On the very edge of my numb mind, faint traces of annoyance danced. True as they were, his words were also demeaning. He’d called me a child.
Regardless, I let him pull me up by my hands and walk me into my bedroom like I was his puppet to manipulate. He guided me to the bed, helped me lay down, then tucked the covers around me. He turned to leave.
“Wait,” I whispered, surprised by the speed with which my hand struck out to grab his wrist. “Stay with me, please,” I pleaded. The unquenchable longing coursing through my body permeated my voice.
Marcus’s eyes widened, and he frowned. “Lex, I don’t think—”
“Stay with me, Marcus. Just … just stay. Please,” I said. The unreality of the world threatened to wash me away—I needed something to tether me to what was real. I needed Marcus.
Silently, he struggled for a few seconds before removing his shoes and belt and joining me between the sheets. With assured strength, he embraced me, wrapping an arm around my middle and pulling my body back against his. I was asleep within minutes.
***
“Lex,” Marcus hissed, his arms tightening painfully around my ribs. “Wake up!”
I did, instantly. “Marcus,” I whispered, “wha—”
“Shhh …” he breathed almost inaudibly. In a smooth, silent motion he had me out of bed and cradled in his arms like a small child. Setting me down on the cold bathroom tile, he whispered, “Stay in here.” And then he was gone.
What? I slunk back out into the bedroom and cracked open the door, peeking into the living room. What’s going on?
Two black-clad men entered the apartment and were struck solidly in the neck by small, silver knives before they’d taken more than a few steps—knives that Marcus had thrown.
Who walks around with knives hidden in their clothes? And where was he hiding them? And in the furthest reaches of my mind, I thought, I just watched him kill two people.
Two more knives replaced the originals in Marcus’s hands as four more men rushed into my small living space. Like a comic book hero, Marcus leapt at the lead man, flawlessly flinging his left knife into the eye socket of the next int
ruder. He sliced the first man’s neck cleanly while the second was still falling to the floor. The third and fourth men, one tall and one short, lunged in unison, dodging Marcus’s blade as they danced gracefully around him. Marcus stood still as stone, simultaneously looking like he might never move again and like he might strike at any second. He was, I truly realized for the first time, a very dangerous man.
The shorter intruder feinted a kick, but Marcus remained still. The taller intruder pretended to slowly circle behind Marcus, attempting to divide his attention. With a cobra-like strike, Marcus slashed his remaining knife across the taller intruder’s throat. The instant Marcus moved, the shorter intruder lunged, only to have Marcus wrap his arm around his neck and twist it until it snapped a fraction of a second later. Marcus fought with the grace of a dancer, making the whole minute-long fight beautifully macabre.
“You are hiding yourself from me in the future At,” said a velvety, male voice. It had an aristocratic British accent. When the owner of the voice stepped into the glow of streetlamps streaming through the blinds, I nearly gasped. It was Set … my father. “You’ve been keeping secrets, cousin. I didn’t know you had the talent to cloak future echoes.”
“I don’t,” Marcus admitted. He stood in a relaxed position, looking about as harmless as a tiger.
“You lie,” Set hissed. “I couldn’t see this possibility … I couldn’t see my daughter. You hid her!” He came momentarily unhinged, exposing the maniacal, power-maddened man he truly was.
The image of self-possession, Marcus replied, “I do not, and I did not. I’m disappointed in you, old friend. Six men? For me? And not one carrying a gun. I would have expected more from someone so … paranoid.”
“You weren’t supposed to be here!”
“And yet, here I am.”
Set’s countenance changed abruptly, becoming mild and pleasant. “Where is my daughter? In the bedroom, perhaps? Were you in there with her, helping the prophecy—my prophecy—along? I wouldn’t have expected to find you wearing so—”
“Enough!” Marcus barked. “It’s not your prophecy.”
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