“Not by choice,” Syris said, raising the orb filled with Apep’s inky, seething soul. “Apep and Re will continue to unravel if left in this state, and that can’t be allowed to happen. Sure, ma’at has been restored and the universe is in balance and everything—for the most part—but, in time, it will begin to deteriorate again right along with Apep and Re.”
Slowly, I shook my head. This couldn’t be happening. Their birth was supposed to fix everything. It was supposed to be over. It wasn’t fair; we’d only been a family for a couple weeks.
“But it will,” Susie said, misreading the reason for my headshake. “Apep and Re created this universe. They’re the souls of this place, as integral to it as your ba is to your body. Syris and me … we can hold it together without them, and in time we’ll share a bond with this universe as strong as theirs is, but the universe will change to fit us, and there’s no way to predict how it’ll change.” Her eyes grew glassy. “There’s no way to know if this world—if any of you—will even survive the changes.”
Syris handed the Apep orb to his sister, then stepped forward and took my hands in his. “Mother, you risked so much for us—for all of us. You must let us return the favor.”
“But you’re just kids,” I said, voice breaking. “I just had you a month ago.” I couldn’t have stopped the tears from spilling over the brim of my eyelids even if I’d wanted to.
Marcus gave my shoulder a squeeze. “Will it be dangerous?”
Syris’s focus shifted higher as he looked at his father. “We don’t know, but we’ll keep you updated.” Looking at me once more, he released my left hand and lifted it to close his fingers around my lapis lazuli falcon pendant. When he released it, the pendant felt hot against my skin and hummed with a barely perceptible vibration. “As long as you’re wearing this, I’ll be able to reach your mind.”
I brought my free hand up to grasp the pendant much as he had.
Syris looked at Marcus. “We’ve cut off access to the At. It’s so unreliable—” He shook his head. “As it is, it does more harm than good.”
“That’s really the other reason we’re going,” Susie said. “We’re not sure how to fix it, and we thought the other Netjer might have some ideas, or maybe once Apep and Re are restored to full health …” She shrugged. “I mean, we’ve never created a universe, so we’re hardly experts. There’s bound to be another Netjer who knows more about these kinds of things.”
The back door to the main house slammed open, and Kat and Aset came thundering out. “Where is he?” Aset shouted, running ahead. “Where’s my son?”
Susie and Syris exchanged a glance. “He’s gone,” Syris said, closely followed by Susie’s “He’s fine, though.”
Aset slowed to a walk just a few yards away. “Then where is he?”
Susie hugged the two orbs close against her. “He needs some time, Auntie. It’s been thousands of years since he was alone in his own mind, and he wanted to get away—to figure out who he is like this—before he saw anyone.”
“But I’m not just anyone,” Aset snapped, taking a step toward Susie. “I’m his mother.”
“Yes,” Syris said, moving to block his sister. “And we get that, we really do.” His eyes flicked to me, just for a moment. “We’ll never be able to thank you or Nik enough for everything you did to help our mother, but we created something for you … something we sort of stumbled upon when we were figuring out how our powers worked. It’s a gift we thought might at least start to show you how grateful we are.”
“Just tell me where my son is; that’s the only thank-you gift I need.”
“I’m sorry, Auntie, but we can’t do that,” Susie said, shaking her head.
“Can’t or won’t?”
“We’re merely respecting Nik’s wishes,” Syris said. “I’m sure he’ll return eventually.” When Aset didn’t respond, only glared, he fished a quarter-sized disk out of his pocket. It shimmered in the afternoon sunlight, appearing to be made of smoky quartz, except the slightly iridescent core shone with writhing, golden tendrils. Syris held the coin of At flat on his palm, extending it to Aset.
She eyed it, both wary and curious. “What is it?”
Syris grinned. “A sheut, Auntie. Just a minor one, like Mother has, so it won’t kill you or anything.”
“But it will make you very, very special,” Susie added.
“That’s not possible,” Aset whispered. “You can’t just make a sheut.”
“Says who?” Susie rotated the orbs in her hands. “We learned how to do tons of ‘impossible’ things over the years.” She grinned. “I could create a whole new galaxy if I wanted to, Auntie. Do you really think creating a lil’ old sheut would trip me up?”
“Stop showing off, Suse,” Syris said, scolding his sister.
Susie rolled her eyes. Heaven help me, but I was the mother of teenage gods. We were all doomed.
“I only said that I could create a whole new galaxy,” Susie said, “not that I knew how to do it. And it’s not like creating the sheut was easy or that we know what you’ll be able to do with it, so …” She shrugged. “It’s pretty cool, though, right?” Her eyes focused on the girl—woman—behind Aset. “And you, Aunt Kat, don’t think we forgot about you.”
“What?” Kat eyed both of my children, clearly suspicious. “Why?”
“In a sense, your mom died so ours could live,” Syris said.
“So we could live,” Susie amended. “If she hadn’t done what she did, hadn’t caused that momentary distraction that allowed them to trap Apep, well … we owe her, big-time. Which means we owe you.”
Kat stared at them, her expression as guarded as ever but her eyes gleaming. “Are you saying—” She wet her lips with her tongue. “Is there a way to bring my mom back?”
Susie shook her head, sympathy written all over her pale, striking features. “That is impossible; what has happened had to happen, and she’s been gone for far too long. Her energy is already dispersed.” She exchanged a glance with her brother, and the corners of his mouth quirked upwards in a near perfect replica of his father’s frequent almost-smile.
“We would give you this, though,” Syris said, reaching into his other pocket and pulling out a second At coin. He held the two otherworldly things out to Kat and Aset, waiting for his aunts to accept the gifts. “All you have to do is touch it. The rest will happen on its own.”
Kat reached out, biting her lip as her fingertips hovered an inch from the waiting sheut. She inhaled deeply, and held her breath. And picked up the disk.
The tiny At creation shimmered, dissolving into her palm. A second later, it was gone.
“That’s it?” She looked from Syris to Susie and back. “It’s done?”
Both twins nodded.
She narrowed her eyes. “So how do I use it, then?”
Syris and Susie exchanged another glance. “You’ll have to figure that part out on your own,” Syris said. “It might take a while for it to fully sync with your ba, but we’re sure you’ll figure out what you can do in no time.”
Kat looked at him dead-on. “So you don’t know. You just offered me this thing and you have no idea what it’ll do to me?”
“Well, it won’t hurt you,” Susie said defensively.
“We can’t know everything,” Syris added. “We’re only sixteen.”
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Aset said, exhaling heavily and grabbing the other At coin. It dissolved in her hand, exactly as Kat’s had.
Hands now free, Syris turned to his sister and relieved her of the soul-containing orbs.
“Daddy,” Susie said, taking a step toward us. “We already gave you your gift, so please don’t feel left out.”
“What—” I looked from my daughter to my bond-mate and back. “What are you talking about?”
“When we removed the damaged sheut from you, Mother, we had to put it somewhere, and Daddy said he would take it.
“No,” I said, barely able to inhale enough air
to voice the word. I shook my head vehemently, gripping Marcus’s forearm with one hand and pleading up at him with my eyes. They’d removed the sheut that allowed me to travel through space and time, leaving me with the other, seemingly less useful sheut. “It’s too dangerous. You could get lost, or stuck, or—”
“I’ll be careful, Little Ivanov.”
“Besides, Mother,” Susie said, “it’s still repairing itself, so it’ll be a while before he can actually use it, and with the At closed off, he won’t be able to travel through time, just space, so …”
“But—”
“Mother,” Susie said, “it’s going to be fine. Trust us, please. Trust him.”
I closed my mouth, swallowing further protestations.
“Our last gifts are for you,” she said, kneeling before me. “You, who sacrificed so much so we could have a chance at life … so the universe and all of the life teeming within it could continue on.” She pulled a small velvet drawstring bag from her back pocket and handed it to me. “You lost precious years with your mortal family.” She smiled, swirling green and golden eyes shimmering with emotion. “We want to give you those years back … with interest.”
I stared down at the bag in my hand, wondering how what felt like a small stash of marbles could do any such impossible thing. “I don’t understand.”
“There are five silver marbles in the bag, enough for Grandma and Grandpa, Aunt Jenny, and Bobby and Judy.”
“But, how will that—”
Susie’s smile widened to a grin. “Each one contains a new, moldable ba, ready to soak into its new host and turn them into a Nejeret.”
I stared at my mostly grown daughter, eyes wide and unblinking, and inhaled shakily. My sister and her human kids—my mom and dad—they wouldn’t fall victim to the passage of time. They would live forever, like me—with me—continuing on in the form of their everlasting ba, even after their physical bodies perished.
On my exhale, I clutched the little bag of immortal souls to my chest and gave in to the unavoidable urge to cry. For once, my tears weren’t of sadness or pain or loss or defeat. Not this time. For once, I cried tears of joy.
***
I sat on the bench of the picnic table, Marcus on one side of me, holding my hand, my mom on the other, her arm curled around my shoulders. My mother and bond-mate, doing what they could to offer comfort while I stared at the patch of grass my children had disappeared from just a few minutes ago. They’d said their farewells, given promises to return as soon as they could, and then they’d melted into glowing beings of iridescent light and vanished with Re and Apep.
My children … they were gone. I thought I should be crying, but I didn’t seem able. I felt hollow and wrung out.
I’d thought we were done; I’d thought this was all over—the universe was saved. I’d thought my future would be filled with family birthday parties and excavations and working in the restructured Nejeret government—you know, normal things. I’d thought we would finally get to be a family. Maybe we still would, one day.
But not yet.
“They’ll come back, sweetie,” my mom said, leaning the side of her head against mine. “And now your dad and I will live long enough to see their return.” She held out her arm, examining the back of her hand like she was showing off a ring. “I think I’m already less wrinkly.” She lowered her hand to her lap. “You know, I’ve felt like I was still thirty for the past forty-five years, but to look it again … I don’t know if I quite believe it’s going to happen.” She sighed heavily. “I just wish my mother had lasted long enough …”
My eyes wandered from the spot of grass left vacant by my kids to the picnic blanket where Alexander sat alone, knees drawn up and arms latched around his legs. He was staring off at nothing, and I had no doubt that his mind had gone in the same direction as my mom’s.
I scooted to the edge of the bench and released Marcus’s hand. My fingers gripped the knees of my jeans. “I think I need to walk for a bit. Clear my head …”
My mom’s arm fell away from my shoulders.
“Do you want company?” Marcus asked.
I turned to him, offering him what I could of a smile and leaning in to plant a light kiss on his lips. “No. I’d like to be alone … just for a little while.”
The concern in his golden eyes faded until only a hint remained. He knew me well enough to understand that this was how I processed things, how I figured out and worked through my feelings—in solitude—and he returned my smile, his a much better attempt. “Go on, then.”
I gave his thigh a squeeze, then stood and arched my back in a stretch. The picnic-goers were still there, scattered around the lawn on blankets and folding picnic tables, but the collective mood had shifted from carefree and celebratory to subdued and contemplative. There was still so much we didn’t understand about our existence, about our universe and whatever others were out there.
The twins’ revelation that they were visiting the Netjer home universe had shaken a lot of people. We’d all known Re came from somewhere else, but most of us hadn’t really considered what that meant, myself included. Our own universe was inconceivably large, its multiple planes of existence and parallel realities far too complex for even my kind to understand in our never-ending lifetimes.
I headed for the woods that surrounded the park-like backyard, aiming for the pathway that led to the beach. The Puget Sound always gave me peace of mind when nothing else could.
When I reached the break in the woods, where stepping over a fallen log transitioned my boots from a path of compacted dirt and pine needles to crunching pebbles, I was surprised to find that someone had beaten me there. Kat stood in the shallows of the shore, her bare feet almost emerging from the frigid saltwater as it receded. The wind picked up and flung about pieces of her short, bleached hair.
“I wondered how long it would take you to find your way out here,” she said, not turning to me or raising her voice above a murmur, but knowing I’d hear her all the same.
I meandered down the beach, stopping just behind the kelp line. The rhythmic whoosh of the gentle waves rushing up the rocky beach was already soothing my soul. “Will you go after Nik?” I had no doubt that Aset had asked Kat to help her find him.
Kat shook her head. “He doesn’t want to be found. I can respect that.”
“Can Aset?”
Kat laughed, no hint of humor in the sound. “Would you, if he were your son?”
I acknowledged her point with a tilt of my head, my fingers automatically finding the crystalline falcon pendant, my only link to my children. “What will you do, then? Will you stay here?”
Again, Kat shook her head. “I’m different, now. The things I’ve done—I don’t belong here, not anymore.”
“Kat—”
“It’s true, Lex. A lot has changed since you left. I’m not the weak girl you used to know.” Her voice was filled with regret, with longing. With resignation. “She died a long time ago.”
I crossed my arms over my chest, hugging myself against the chilly ocean breeze. “You were never weak.”
Kat turned her head just enough that she could see me out of the corner of her eye. “I’m not going to go back to the party. Will you tell Dom I said …” She frowned. “Just tell him thanks … and sorry. He’ll understand.”
I nodded. “Where will you go?”
She turned back to the endless stretch of gray-blue water. “Home. It’s time for me to go home.”
EPILOGUE
“I talked to Kat this morning,” I told Marcus. “While you were out in the vineyard. I was actually surprised she answered. The call was a bit of a Hail Mary.” My hand was in his as we strolled across a rolling Tuscan hillside, a blanket rolled up under my other arm. We’d been staying at the farmhouse just outside of Florence for the past month, decompressing. Marcus was taking a break from the Senate, Aset filling his seat in his absence. It was the first time we’d been alone for more than a day or two since we first
met a year and a half ago. Even in other time periods, there were always people around us.
“Oh?” Marcus glanced at me, eyebrows raised. I didn’t think I’d ever seen his face so relaxed; it made him even more beautiful—painfully so. “And how is she?”
“She seems …” I frowned. “Busy. And distant. She said she hasn’t been avoiding my calls, but …” I trailed off with a shrug.
“She is setting up a whole new business,” Marcus said. A tattoo parlor, in fact, where the shop used to be. He gave my hand a squeeze, then released it. “She should be busy.” He stopped walking. “How about here?”
I looked around and grinned. We were roughly in the same spot where we’d picnicked the afternoon we’d allowed ourselves to get carried away with, well, ourselves. The city below was more sprawling than before, but it was still recognizable as that same bustling place I’d viewed from up here so many centuries ago.
“This is perfect,” I said, unrolling the blanket and shaking it out so it would lay flat on the tall grass. “I don’t know,” I said, returning to the subject of my youngest sister, “I just worry about her.”
Marcus set down the picnic basket he’d been carrying in the middle of the blanket and knelt beside it. I joined him, watching as he pulled out item after item—a baguette, a few plastic-wrapped hunks of cheese, a couple salamis, a bundle of napkins and knives, a wooden cutting board—until he found the two plastic wineglasses, the corkscrew, and the bottle of Verdicchio tucked away in the bottom of the basket. He quickly went to work uncorking the wine.
I tore the end off the baguette and nibbled on it. “I can’t help but feel like she’s shutting us out. Maybe if Nik were around …”
“They have both been through quite a bit,” Marcus said, tugging the cork free. “If they need some time, then they need some time. Luckily, time is something they both have more than plenty of.”
My heartbeat picked up as I watched him pour wine into one of the plastic glasses. I’d been anticipating this moment all morning, ever since I became certain.
Marcus offered me the glass. When I didn’t take it from his hand, he looked at me.
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