“Just take ’em off.”
“Won’t that be weird?” I asked, slowly ascending the three wooden stairs. “Me, walking around barefoot while you all have shoes on?”
Dorman frowned. “I can see how that might make one feel out of sorts.” And much to my surprise, he bent over and tugged off one of his boots.
“Oh, no, you don’t have to—”
“Nonsense.” He smirked at me. “I donned fresh socks this morning, so hopefully the smell won’t knock you dead.”
I laughed. The shrillness of it struck me.
“C’mon, little lady,” Dorman said, snapping his fingers. “Those boots ain’t going to take themselves off …”
“Oh, right.” I lifted first one foot, then the other, and pried the sodden leather off my feet. I placed the boots on the porch, just to the side of the front door, and tucked the mucky wool socks inside. Straightening, I brushed my hands off on my jeans.
Dorman opened the door. “Ladies first,” he said, standing to the side.
I took a deep breath, then another. My bare feet were cemented to the deck’s wooden boards.
Until I heard his voice. “Do not be absurd,” Heru said. “He wouldn’t seek refuge with Set. Doing so would be risking death. He’s danced back and forth over the line for far too long. He must know his father would never forgive such unreliability.”
My feet started moving of their own accord, carrying me over the threshold and toward Heru.
“I suppose …” It was a woman’s voice, and one that I recognized instantly—Neffe.
Moving on silent feet, I followed the sound of their voices past a narrow staircase and up a hallway that led to the back of the house.
“Why would he come here, then?” A third voice, accented with French and all too familiar. Dominic was here, too.
All three of them were in the room at the end of the hallway. I sucked in a breath, my heart soaring even as my headache gave a renewed, enthusiastic throb. Dizzy, I placed my hand against the wall, steadying myself.
Dorman touched my shoulder. “Are you unwell?”
“I’m fine,” I breathed, resting my forehead against the back of my hand while I waited for the dizzy spell to abate. “I’ll be fine.” I was so close …
“If you say so.” Dorman moved past me to the doorway at the end of the hall. I closed my eyes and took deep breaths.
“Pardon the interruption,” Dorman said, “but I’ve got news. And, well …” He cleared his throat. “There’s someone here to see you, Heru.”
“The woman you were speaking with outside? For whom you felt the desperate need to remove your boots?”
“I’m surprised she survived the smell,” Neffe said.
“Perhaps he is lovestruck.” Dominic kept his voice was quieter than the others. “Torturing us, just so she would feel more comfortable?” Had I been human, I doubted I’d have been able to hear his words. The corner of my mouth lifted into a fond half smile; he was such a gentleman.
Dorman made a choking noise. “No. She’s, well … it’s not what you’re all thinking.”
The others snickered. “I’m sure,” Neffe said.
“Alexandra,” Dorman called down the hallway. “Come along.”
Inhaling deeply, I pushed off the wall. The worst of the withdrawal spell had passed, leaving only a tinge of dizziness and the hint of a throb at the back of my skull, though I knew from experience that I wouldn’t start to shake the withdrawals until I was in the same room as my bond-mate, breathing the same air. I made it to the end of the hallway, still hugging Dorman’s jacket around myself. My legs were shaking, but steady enough; it was more nerves than anything else.
When I reached the doorway, I paused behind Dorman and peered into the room over his shoulder. It was a long, narrow study, with a desk near the far end and bookshelves filling the wall space between windows. Neffe, Dominic, and Heru were seated around a pedestal table about four feet in diameter nearer to the doorway, several hand-drawn maps sprawled on the tabletop between them.
I stepped into the room, looking first at Neffe’s face, then Dominic’s. Finally, I forced myself to look straight at Heru. Those familiar golden eyes were opened wide, those strong, striking features locked in an impossible expression.
Heru stood, the abrupt motion rocking his chair backward. If Neffe hadn’t reached out to steady it, the chair would’ve tipped over completely. “You,” he said, recognition written all over his face.
And I thought my heart might explode. Somehow, against everything I’d been led to believe, Heru knew me.
He knew me.
12
Meet & Greet
Heru stood on the other side of the table, his face washed out and his eyes opened so wide that the whites were visible around the entirety of his golden irises. He wore an outfit very similar to Dorman’s—wool trousers and jacket, cotton shirt, and leather vest—minus the chaps and hat and entirely composed of gray tones. His obsidian hair was shoulder-length and smooth as glass, holding only a slight wave.
“Give us the room,” Heru said, not taking his haunted eyes off my face.
“Father …”
“Now.”
With the scratch of chair legs and a small parade of footsteps, we were alone. I was struck dumb. All I could do was stare.
How was it possible that he knew me—remembered me? According to Aset and Nik, whoever was nearest me when I jumped back in time would have their memories of me blocked. I didn’t just have to stick close to Heru to soak up his bonding pheromones; I needed to make sure he was near me when I jumped—to make sure he forgot me.
So, had I failed? Had we been apart during one of my upcoming time jumps, leaving his memories of me intact?
“You know me?” I said, voice as wispy as my understanding of the situation. “You remember me?”
Heru stared at me. Color returned to his face, but the look in his eyes—it was still as though he was looking at a ghost. He shook his head. “No, but … I dreamt of you. So often …”
I drew in a breath and opened my mouth to speak, but no words came forth.
Heru took a step, then another, slowly making his way around the table. He stopped in front of me, well within arm’s reach, and raised his hand. His fingertips trailed down the side of my face, from temple to jawline. “You’re really here.”
I nodded, eyes drifting closed as I leaned into his touch. Remotely, I noticed that the ache at the base of my skull had faded and the world had returned to its usual, steady state.
“But who are you? I’ve thought you were a fantasy for so long … just a figment of my imagination.”
“I’m not.” I opened my eyes, turning my head to press my lips against his palm. “I’m real.”
Heru’s breath hissed in through his teeth, his eyes blazing.
“There’s so much to tell you.” I shot a quick glance over my shoulder. Nobody had left the house through the front door, so I figured Dorman, Neffe, and Dominic had to be in one of the front rooms, being quiet as mice while they listened to us. I couldn’t risk them overhearing my story. It was going to be hard enough making sure I was near Heru for the next jump back in time, let alone three other people. And Nejerets had long memories.
“Just you,” I added.
Heru’s eyes searched mine, back and forth. After a long moment, he nodded. “Neffe,” he said, raising his voice just a hint as he addressed his daughter on the other side of the house, “go look after Isis … and take Dorman and Dom with you.” His hawklike gaze never left mine.
We stood in silence, staring at one another while we listened to the others leave the house. The silent staring continued long after they’d gone.
Finally, Heru spoke. “You look as though you’ve been through the wringer.” He pinched a dripping tendril of hair between his thumb and forefinger, the corner of his mouth twitching.
I exhaled a laugh. “If you knew what my last day and a half was like, you’d understand.”
&nb
sp; His expression returned to its usual, commanding state. “Tell me.”
“I—” My eyes wandered to the chair behind him, and the weakness in my legs seemed to multiply threefold.
“Sit, yes, of course.” Heru took a step back and held his arm out to the chair. “Would you like to change into dry clothes? Are you hungry? Thirsty? Surely some whiskey would dull your discomfort …”
“No whiskey,” I said too quickly. At the slight narrowing of his eyes, I explained, “I’m pregnant. Alcohol would be bad for …” I trailed off, realizing what I’d just told him.
“You’re with child?” He stared at me, his expression unchanged and his eyes unblinking. “Is it mine?” He frowned and shook his head as soon as the words were out of his mouth. “Apologies. I have no right or reason to ask such a thing. I don’t even know your name.” His frown deepened. “Tell me, mistress: how is it possible that you are with child when you are clearly a fully manifested Nejerette?” It was a valid question; the females of our kind were notoriously infertile, a byproduct of our superhuman regenerative abilities.
“Well …” I moved forward and more or less collapsed into the proffered chair. “It’s a long story.” My eyes drifted to the chair he’d abandoned. It was an invitation. I wouldn’t force my story—our story, really—on him. But if he wanted to know, I would tell him. Ancient Heru had reacted poorly to learning we were fated to bond, but this Heru was different … older. This Heru remembered me, just a little.
Eyes trained on me, he nodded and eased into the chair. “You have my ear, Miss … ?”
“Alexandra.” I held his gaze, preparing to drop my first bomb. “Ivanov,” I said, using my Nejeret family name. I took a deep breath. “Alexandra Ivanov.”
Heru leaned back in his chair, his fingertips running over the stubble growing along the line of his jaw. “You’re of Ivan’s line … via Alexander?”
I nodded. “He’s my namesake. I’m his granddaughter. You can call me Lex.”
“If you’re Alexander’s granddaughter, how is it I’ve never heard him speak of you?” Another valid question, considering they’d been close friends for many centuries.
Well, it just so happened I had one hell of a valid answer. “Because I haven’t been born yet,” I said.
Heru leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “I beg your pardon?”
My stomach knotted. It was time for the second bomb. “I’m from the future.”
13
Bound & Free
“And that’s how I ended up here,” I said, folding my hands together in my lap. I’d shed Dorman’s coat some hours ago, near the beginning of my retelling. It was humid in the room and warm enough that my jeans and T-shirt felt mostly dry.
Heru’s eyes were still cast in my direction, but his focus was distant. Not surprising, considering I’d pretty much unloaded my whole life story on him. I’d told him way more than I’d planned to, including that in the future we were a bonded Nejeret pair. Hell, I’d just let the guy know he was the father of my children. He deserved a moment of silent processing. He deserved a year of silent processing, but we didn’t have that much time.
Maybe it had been a gamble telling him so much. Maybe he would dismiss me as insane. Maybe he would see me as a lying, manipulative Nejerette who’d come to him and told him tall tales as part of some diabolical plan. Maybe, but I didn’t think so.
Heru blinked, and his thousand-mile stare vanished, replaced by the intense focus I was so familiar with. He stared at me, seeming to see into me. “This thing you would have me believe—”
“My life story?” I offered with a shaky smile.
“Yes.” Heru’s eyes searched mine, and he leaned forward. He extended his hand, almost like he was reaching for me, but stopped short and set it palm-down on the table instead. “Have you any proof that what you claim is true?”
I nodded and scooted forward on my chair, perching on the edge of the seat. “If you go into the At, looking at this moment, this place, you won’t see me. I’m a person out of time. We call it a ‘time anomaly.’”
His eyes narrowed. “Or you could be extremely talented at cloaking.” He nodded to himself. “Which would befit a daughter of Set, both the trickery and the talent.”
I sat up straighter, my eyes narrowing to match his. “I wouldn’t do that. I haven’t done that. Hell, I wouldn’t even know how to do that.” I laughed bitterly. “My Nejerette traits manifested less than a year ago. I might be a quick learner, but I’m not that quick.”
“I meant no offense,” Heru said coolly. From the way he was looking at me, studying me, I had the impression that he was testing me.
“I’m sure,” I grumbled.
“Do you have any other proof?”
Shrugging, I shook my head. “I don’t think—” I sat up straighter. “Yes. Yes, I do,” I said, reaching into my shirt through the collar to fish out my phone. I’d stored the dormant device in my bra to keep it safe during the canoe trip, and it had seemed wise to keep it there during the rainstorm.
Heru, who’d been watching my down-the-shirt phone retrieval with amused interest, craned his neck once the device was visible. “What kind of a contraption is that?”
“It’s a phone—a cellular phone,” I said, holding down the power button until the screen lit up and launched into its loading sequence. I’d powered it off shortly after Tex found me the previous afternoon. I set the phone on the table halfway between Heru and myself.
Heru scooted his chair closer and leaned over the table. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
I, too, leaned in. “In basic principle, it’s similar to a telegraph—it allows you to send messages instantaneously over long distances.” I tapped the glassy face of the phone. My background picture appeared, a photo of a rare snuggly moment between Thora and Rus, and a moment later, the icons for the apps popped into place. “The main difference is that these messages use actual voices.”
“I don’t understand.”
“This”—I picked up the phone, then set it back down—“allows people to actually speak to each other from opposite sides of the world. You could have a conversation with someone in China—for hours, if you wanted—as though you’re sitting in the same room as them. Some phones even allow you to see the person you’re talking to.”
Heru stared at the phone, wonder etched all over his face. He’d lived for thousands of years and, as such, had seen the ebb and flow of technology progressing firsthand. But still, he shook his head in disbelief. “How is such a thing possible?”
I shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t know.” I tapped the camera icon in the bottom right corner of the phone’s display. “It can also take pictures—um, photographs. See?” I leaned closer to him and smiled into the camera, then tapped the screen to capture the shot. Heru’s dumbfounded expression was priceless.
I showed him the image, barely hiding a smile.
He touched his fingertips to the likeness of his face on the screen. “That’s incredible.” He slid his finger to my face, and the photo swiped right off the screen, only to be replaced by another, this one taken a century and a half in the future.
In the new photo, Marcus and I were lying on a white and green checkered picnic blanket on Bainbridge Island’s rocky northern shore. Marcus was scowling while I cheesed it up big-time. He had an extreme aversion to photographs, a fairly common trait among our kind.
“This was taken a little over a week ago.” I smiled wistfully, remembering that perfect sunny day. “We had a picnic, just you and I. So much was going on all around us with Tarset and the war on the Kin, and I wanted to surprise you. You’d been working nonstop, more stressed than I’d ever seen you, and …” My voice became husky. I cleared my throat, staring up at the ceiling while I blinked unexpected tears away. “It was a lovely afternoon. A perfect moment. I had to capture it with a photo.”
“And yet remembering it saddens you.” I could feel the trail of his gaze tracing over my face.
&n
bsp; “It was our last moment of pure happiness before things went so wrong. And now I’m here, but you’re there, and I don’t even know if you’re really okay, and there’s nothing I can do about it but let our kids toss me further and further back in time like a damn skipping stone.” I wiped away the wetness under my eye, angry at myself for letting the tears escape. “I don’t even know how I’ll get home.” I just had to trust that the twins would bring me back when the time came.
Heru captured my hand before I could return it to my lap. “I may be there, in the future, but I am also here, with you, now.” His thumb rubbed slow circles over the back of my hand.
Shaking my head, I let out a desolate laugh. “Yeah, but you don’t believe me, not really. I thought that maye, since you sort of, somehow remember something of me, but …” I blew out a breath, frustrated, exhausted, and so over this. “You must think I’m insane.”
“Well, Alexandra Ivanov—Lex—either you are insane, or I am.” He smiled and shook his head, his open expression a rarity, even in my time. “And I’m inclined to believe your tale, so it must be me.”
My gaze locked with his. “You believe me?” Tears streaked down my cheeks, and I made no attempt to stop them. “You really believe me?”
“I do.” He laughed out loud, a wondrous, joyous sound. “And I’m to be a father!”
“Well, it’s not like it’s the first time …”
“Oh, but Alexandra, in so many ways, it is.” He stood abruptly, releasing my hand to pace around the room. “To create a child with my bond-mate—to have a bond-mate! Such a thing I’ve never wanted, and yet how many times have I found myself lying in bed after waking from a dream of you, my mysterious fantasy woman, wishing you were real? How often have I lain there thinking that should our paths cross in the real, waking world, I would gladly hand you a piece of my soul?”
I stared at him, utterly speechless. Marcus was rarely so expressive. Only when he was caught up in an extreme tsunami of emotions did he allow himself to shed his usual aura of restraint and share his true feelings with such aplomb. I could count the number of times such a thing had happened on one hand.
Ricochet Through Time (Echo Trilogy Book 3) Page 9