Hatshepsut sagged into her chair as Bibi led the old man away. Exhausted, Jennifer sank to the bench beside Grandma Jo. For a few moments, they sat in silence, their breathing settling into a quiet rhythm. Then Hatshepsut turned and gave Neferhotep a weary smile.

“I suppose I must believe in demons, now,” she said.

“I’m just glad it was defeated,” he said.

“Yes.” She glanced at Jennifer. “We should reassure your family that you are well. Your uncle will know where to find them.”

Neferhotep left but was back in moments with Meryt-Re, Ramose, Mentmose, and surprisingly, Tetisheri and her parents, Satyah and Hekhanakhte. They walked in, then stopped, startled, when they saw the Pharaoh. All of them immediately kneeled. Hatshepsut gestured for them to rise and come closer.

“Here is your daughter,” she said. “Safe and sound.”

Tetisheri ran to Jennifer and swept her into a hug. “Are you all right, Dje-Nefer? When that horrible man said you were a demon, I was so scared. And so glad when you ran away from him. Ra, but he was angry!”

“You didn’t think I was possessed by a demon?” asked Jennifer, gently disentangling herself from Tetisheri’s arms.

“Of course not!” said Tetisheri. “How could you be? I know you. And besides, Miw rubbed up against you, remember? A cat wouldn’t do that if she didn’t know it was safe.”

Meryt-Re and Ramose approached slowly. Jennifer stood and Meryt-Re peered into her eyes. “Dje-Nefer?”

“Don’t worry, Meryt-Re, she is not a demon,” said Neferhotep. “She has not been possessed by a Walker of the Night.”

“Are you sure?” asked Ramose.

“The amulet is the proof. She can bear its touch, as Ka-Aper was unable to do.”

Meryt-Re sighed and stood straighter. “I was wrong to have doubted you, Dje-Nefer.”

Ramose smiled at her. “I, also. Can you forgive us, my daughter?”

Jennifer nodded. “Sure.”

“Neferhotep, I wish you hadn’t made us worry so,” said Ramose.

“I was afraid for her. And for you.” Neferhotep paused. “However, there is something you should know.”

“What now?” said Ramose.

“This girl is not a demon. But she is not your daughter.”

Jennifer froze.

“What do you mean?” said Meryt-Re.

“Yes, Neferhotep,” said Hatshepsut. “Please explain.”

“I wish I could. There are too many things unexplained, your Majesty,” said Neferhotep. “I know my niece well, and I know she would never get lost in this city. There were other indicators. Meryt-Re, had you not noticed your daughter was acting strange?”

“I was not worried at first,” said Meryt-Re, spreading her hands wide, “but I began to be, especially when I recalled your mention of demons…”

“No.” Neferhotep paced closer to Jennifer. He put his hands on her shoulders and looked her in the eyes. “No, not a demon, I know. What are you, child?” he asked softly.

Jennifer swallowed and looked at Grandma Jo. “Should we tell them?”

“Mutemwija?” said Meryt-Re. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m not really Mutemwija. My name is Josephine.”

“Mine is Jennifer. I…we…are time travelers,” said Jennifer.

Hatshepsut’s eyebrows rose.

“Time travelers!” Ramose burst out laughing. “You are joking, are you not?”

“It’s the truth,” said Grandma Jo.

“Time travelers,” Neferhotep said slowly, drawing out each syllable. Then he grinned, more widely than she had ever seen him smile. “Travelers through time! This is wonderful!”

Jennifer couldn’t help smiling back. Of course he would believe her. At least she’d made one person happy. “I woke up here on the morning of the day we had dinner with Ka-Aper.”

“Ridiculous,” harrumphed Tetisheri’s father, coming forward. “Majesty…”

Satyah looked skeptical too. “The child is telling tales.”

“No, I don’t think so,” said Neferhotep.

Hekhanakhte started to open his mouth, then stiffened and swayed for a moment. He braced himself against the wall, giving Jennifer a penetrating stare. Puzzled, she turned away from him.

“But she looks like Dje-Nefer,” said Meryt-Re. “I would swear this is my daughter.”

“We exchanged bodies, I think,” said Jennifer. “Dje-Nefer is in my body, in my time.”

“Mutemwija, poor lady, is in mine,” said Grandma Jo. “We look similar, however. I was shocked to see something like my own reflection in a mirror.”

“But how can this be?” asked Meryt-Re. “How can someone be in another’s body?”

“It may have something to do with their ka,” Neferhotep mused.

“Their life forces?” asked Ramose.

“Yes,” said Neferhotep, in a detached, almost scientific voice. “Or possibly the akh, the personality. But not the ba. That part is created after death, and you are not dead. Are you?”

“I don’t think so,” said Jennifer. “Although sometimes I think I’m dreaming.”

Grandma Jo chuckled. “Me, too.”

“Dreaming…,” said Neferhotep. “I remember you mentioned you had dreamed of Amon-Ra that morning. Dreams are omens.”

“Perhaps…perhaps your holy father had something to do with this, your Majesty,” said Hekhanakhte. Satyah glanced at him, frowning.

“Amon-Ra?” asked Hatshepsut. “But why?”

Neferhotep shrugged. “Has not this child done you a great service?”

“Certainly.”

“Maybe he sent her,” said Neferhotep. “To help you.”

Hatshepsut leaned back in her chair and eyed Jennifer. “It could be so.”

“But…how?” said Meryt-Re.

Neferhotep turned to Jennifer. “Yes, exactly. How did you come to be here?”

Jennifer lifted her amulet. “It was this.”

“The amulet of Amon-Ra!” said Neferhotep. “It is his sacred symbol.”

“Wait,” said Ramose, shaking his head. “I don’t understand. You said you woke up here yesterday morning.”

Jennifer nodded slowly. Had she only been here for two days? It seemed longer.

“But that means I gave you the amulet after you had, um, traveled through time,” said Ramose. “How could that be?”

“The traveling happened in the future, in my time,” she said. “I opened the amulet when I received it then.”

“That was—or will be—thousands of years from now,” said Grandma Jo.

Ramose flashed a white grin. “My work has lasted that long?”

“Yours, and the work of many others,” Grandma Jo assured him. “We have hundreds of thousands of pieces still from this time period.”

“Pieces?” said Hatshepsut. “Then this land of ours is no longer intact, in your world?”

“Oh, no,” said Grandma Jo. “It’s still there. But in the grand scheme of things, we do not have much left of your civilization. A lot of it has been destroyed.”

“Even the pyramids?” asked Hekhanakhte.

“No, they are still there,” said Grandma Jo. “They are considered one of the wonders of our modern world. And we have other relics—statues, tomb paintings, pots and jars. Even some food and plants.”

“Food and plants? They are still recognizable, after all those years?” asked Neferhotep.

“Some. The mummified or petrified ones. Not everything survived.”

“Most of the temples are in ruins,” said Jennifer.

“Ruins!” said Mentmose. “But they are made of stone. How could they be in ruins?”

“Time is not kind to the works of man,” said Grandma Jo. “Nor is war or the movements of the earth. There have been earthquakes, among other things, over the last thirty-five hundred years. Some of your artifacts are reduced to rubble.”

“Thirty-five hundred years!” said Neferhotep. “So long a time…”

“It is good to know that we are still remembered,” said Hekhanakhte.

“Sure,” said Jennifer. “We even study your civilization in school.”

“School? You go to school?” asked Mentmose. “Why would you go to school? You are a girl, aren’t you?”

“Of course she is,” said Tetisheri. “Don’t be silly. She knows all about being a girl.”

“Everyone goes to school in my time,” said Jennifer.

“I must admit, I feel very odd being the topic of a history discussion,” said Hatshepsut.

“Oh, you’re famous,” Jennifer assured her. “The female Pharaoh!”

“I hope my mortuary temple of Djeser-Djeseru still remains,” said Hatshepsut.

“It was destroyed,” said Jennifer. “But it’s being restored.”

“Destroyed?” said Neferhotep. “How could anyone damage such a beautiful thing? It is one of the loveliest in all of Kemet.”

“It’s not just your temple,” said Jennifer. “Everything. Your statues, your tomb paintings, your cartouches, your name. All gone.”

“Gone?” said Meryt-Re, with a gasp.

“But then…how…?” said Neferhotep. “How do you know she exists? Existed?”

“A few things survived,” said Jennifer. “Whoever did it didn’t destroy your obelisks, just plastered them over. We found them, and other items, fairly recently.”

“Then I am not completely forgotten,” said Hatshepsut.

“No,” said Jennifer. “Although you were for centuries. We didn’t know even your name until just recently.”

“Ka-Aper predicted this,” said Hatshepsut. “Who is it that carries out the destruction?”

“No one knows who did it,” said Jennifer. “Some people think it was done by Thutmose, after he becomes Pharaoh.”

“You are saying he will succeed me,” said Hatshepsut.

“Yes, and soon,” said Jennifer. “You did say you had already reigned for twenty years, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” said Hatshepsut. “It has been that long.”

“Our archeologists have decided you were on the throne for about twenty to twenty-two years.”

“So my nephew gets his revenge.”

“We don’t know for sure that it was Thutmose,” Jennifer reminded her.

“It seems most likely,” said Hatshepsut. “I know he is…disaffected.”

“He wants to be King,” said Neferhotep.

“He should be,” said Tetisheri. “He’s been waiting long enough.”

“Teti!” said Satyah.

“Well, it’s true,” said Tetisheri. “You even said so.”

“Pardon my daughter,” said Satyah, with a little gasp. “She doesn’t know what she’s saying.”

Hekhanakhte nodded, sweating a little.

Hatshepsut chuckled. “I think she does.” She rose and took a step towards Jennifer and Tetisheri.

“Your majesty,” said Satyah, “Please. She is young…”

Tetisheri fumbled for Jennifer’s hand. Jennifer automatically held it and gave it a squeeze.

“So you think Thutmose should be on the throne?” she asked Tetisheri.

Tetisheri gulped, then nodded. Hatshepsut’s face was expressionless, but Jennifer thought she saw a brief smile soften it.

Satyah dropped to the tiled floor, kneeling. “Your Majesty…Pharaoh…please don’t hurt my daughter.”

Hatshepsut frowned at her. “I would not hurt a child.”

“But your soldiers…”

“As has been pointed out to me, my soldiers are acting without my orders,” said Hatshepsut. “I think perhaps they are no longer my soldiers. In any case, I would not let them harm her. In fact, I salute her honesty. I value those who speak their minds to me and do not pretend one thing and yet say another.” Hatshepsut turned her attention once more to Tetisheri. “Child, you may be right. I will think on it. You were very brave to tell me.”

Mentmose looked at Tetisheri, a thoughtful expression on his face.

Hekhanakhte helped Satyah to rise from the floor.

Meryt-Re stepped forward. “Pharaoh, what can we do to return my daughter to me?”

“In no way do I know how this situation could come to be,” said Hatshepsut. “Perhaps you should ask Neferhotep that question.”

“You said the amulet sent you here?” Neferhotep asked Jennifer.

“Actually, it was the dust inside it,” said Jennifer.

“Dust? What kind of dust?” asked Neferhotep.

“I don’t know,” said Jennifer, shaking her head. “It was just dust. It smelled like the stuff you have in those storage jars that we found when we were hiding.”

“Myrrh?” said Neferhotep. “That’s easily provided. But the dust could be anything.”

“I thought the dust in the amulet would send me back the first time I opened it here,” said Jennifer. “But it was empty.”

“Neferhotep was going to fill it,” said Ramose.

Jennifer slid her fingernail into the hairline crack around the edge. “There’s nothing in there now…” She stopped, as the amulet’s top flipped up. Inside, there was a small mound of ground up herbs.“Where did this come from?”

“I put it in there,” said Neferhotep. “Earlier today, I made up a mixture of herbs that are recommended for the exorcism of demons, and said a spell over it—just in case. After I took the amulet from Ka-Aper, I put the mixture in it.”

Jennifer raised her eyebrows.

“It worked on Ka-Aper,” said Neferhotep. “You know what happened to him.”

“What did happen to him?” asked Ramose.

Hatshepsut let out a tired sigh. “It seems my priest had been possessed for years. The demon has been vanquished. I fear that my old friend Ka-Aper will never be the same again, however. Bibi is taking care of him right now.”

“Some of the other priests told me Ka-Aper had been meddling with old, forbidden subjects,” said Neferhotep. “Potions, spells…Perhaps he inadvertently called a demon to him. In any case, the demon’s reaction to the amulet told me much. But because you could wear it without fear, I knew you weren’t a demon.”

“I told you so,” said Tetisheri.

“You were right,” said Neferhotep, nodding at her. “So, now we need to work on how to send you home.”

“I suppose so,” said Jennifer. She slowly closed the lid of her amulet.

“Must they leave us so soon?” asked Tetisheri.

“We have to,” said Jennifer. She looked at Meryt-Re, who was missing a daughter. “Although I wish I could stay a little longer.”

“I don’t want you to go. Not yet,” said Tetisheri. “I don’t care who you are. I like you.”

“Thank you,” said Jennifer, giving her a warm smile.

“Are boys the same in your time?” asked Tetisheri.

“Well,” said Jennifer, glancing at Mentmose. She realized she didn’t really know. Maybe she should have paid more attention to Kelly and Ashley!

“Teti,” said Satyah. “I don’t think you should talk to this…person.”

“Why not? She’s not going to hurt me,” said Tetisheri. She turned a blazing smile on Jennifer. “Are you?”

“No,” said Jennifer. “Of course not.”

“Oh, Tetisheri,” said Satyah. “You trust so easily. Some day…”

“She was always a loyal girl, Satyah,” said Meryt-Re.

“To everyone,” said Mentmose. He blushed and smiled at Tetisheri. “Even me.”

Tetisheri beamed at him.

“We should speak of that,” said Satyah. “Soon.”

“Mother?” said Tetisheri.

“Things have changed since you were betrothed,” said Satyah.

“It is only you who have changed, Satyah,” Meryt-Re said quietly.

“I would be happy to have Mentmose as a son-in-law,” said Hekhanakhte. Satyah whipped her head around to stare at him.

“Things may change yet again,” said Hatshepsut. “Change is, as we have seen, inevitable. We would do well to remember that.”

“Of course, your Majesty,” said Meryt-Re.

“Yes, Pharaoh,” said Satyah, bowing.

“Speaking of change, after we have discovered how to send these people where they want to be, Ramose, I would like to discuss a royal commission with you. Apparently, it is time I prepared myself for my death.”

Tetisheri gasped. “Your death?”

“It comes to us all, child,” said Hatshepsut, gently. “Even to countries, it seems. We cannot avoid it, but we can make provision for it, before we all crumble to dust.” She turned to Jennifer. “Was my mummy also destroyed, along with everything else?”

“We thought it might have been,” said Jennifer. “But it was just hidden.”

“Hidden?”

“As a precaution, probably. Your mummy was just recently identified.”

“Are they sure?”

“Beyond a doubt,” said Jennifer. “They found a box with your cartouche on it, which held a tooth you had lost.”

Hatshepsut put a hand on her cheek. “A tooth?”

“It was matched to your mummy. Then there was the DNA evidence…”

“The what?” asked Neferhotep.

“Never mind, Neferhotep. Thank you, Dje-, I mean, Jennifer. It is good indeed to know that my existence in the afterlife is assured. At least I have not crumbled away to dust,” said Hatshepsut.

“Dust…” said Jennifer. She peered at her amulet. “Grandma, you don’t suppose this was filled with…mummy dust?”

“No, no. I feel sure Daoud wouldn’t have allowed that. He had a deep reverence for his country and its history. If he did put the dust in there, it would not have been from a mummy. Though some people did grind them up, in Victorian times.”

“Ra!” said Mentmose. “You grind up our mummies?”

“Oh, not anymore,” Grandma Jo assured him. “No one is allowed to do that. When we find your tombs, we put the items in a museum.”

“Museum?” said Neferhotep.

“It’s a kind of place where all sorts of people can come to view ancient artifacts,” said Jennifer. “Ours has a traveling exhibition of stuff from your country right now.”

“Including a most fascinating fragment of a tomb painting,” said Grandma Jo. She winked at Jennifer.

“Amazing,” said Neferhotep. “Is that where you found the amulet?”

“No. Well, sort of. The curator gave it to me. Grandma, do you think Daoud knew what would happen when I opened it?” she asked. “Do you think he put the dust in the amulet?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“If he did, then we have no hope of going home,” said Jennifer. “He’s not here.”

“Maybe it was something from our time that did it,” said Tetisheri. “Something that had been in there for, oh, centuries.”

“Like what?” said Jennifer. “After that long, anything we put in it would be…dust.” Her eyes went wide. “Dust! These herbs…in my time, they would be dust.”

Tetisheri clapped her hands over her mouth.

“These plants were meant for banishing a demon,” warned Neferhotep. “They worked for that. Ka-Aper is free; the demon is gone from us. But this…”

“Maybe they could ‘banish’ us, too,” said Jennifer.

“I don’t know any spells for that,” Neferhotep began. Meryt-Re put her hand on his arm.

“Try,” she said.

“I don’t know what would happen,” said Neferhotep. “It might need something else to make it work that way. I’m sorry. I don’t know what that would be.”

“Myrrh!” said Jennifer.

“Of course,” Neferhotep said softly. “Myrrh is one of the items that we use to anoint our mummies, to assist them in their travel to the next world.”

Hatshepsut rose and walked to the little cupboard which held the Double Crown, then opened the painted door and reached inside, bringing out a small glass bottle. She held it carefully as she returned, then handed it to Neferhotep. He held it up to the light. Golden liquid moved sluggishly within.

“Myrrh,” he said. He removed the stopper and sniffed. “The finest kind, too.”

“Naturally,” said Hatshepsut, one side of her mouth lifting.

Neferhotep turned to Jennifer and held out his hand. “May I?” he asked.

Jennifer lifted the amulet over her head and gave it to him. He opened it, then poured several drops of the fragrant incense into the mixture of herbs. Shutting the amulet firmly, he gave it a vigorous shake. Finally, he pressed the amulet to his forehead and closed his eyes, then muttered some words.

“There,” he said, re-opening his eyes. “Now it is up to you.”

Tetisheri, off to the side with her parents, took in a breath like a sob. Hekhanakhte hugged her around the shoulders, then shook his head as if trying to clear it. He swayed a little, then smiled down at his daughter.

Jennifer took the amulet from Neferhotep and walked to Grandma Jo’s bench. Sitting beside her, Jennifer lay the amulet flat on her palm and prepared to open it.

“Are you ready?” she asked.

“Are you?” Grandma Jo countered.

Jennifer paused. She didn’t really want to go. But she knew she had to. She scanned the room, gazing at the family and friends she had known for so short a time.

Mentmose had moved close to Tetisheri and was holding her hand. Satyah and Hekhanakhte, who stood off to one side, didn’t seem to notice. Neferhotep was watching Jennifer and Grandma Jo closely and gave them an encouraging nod. Ramose had his arm around Meryt-Re, whose fists were pressed tightly against her chest. She held her breath, waiting. Jennifer nodded. Waiting for Dje-Nefer to return.

“Stop,” said Meryt-Re, lifting Ramose’s arm away from her. She approached Jennifer, then enveloped her in a hug. “Though I want my daughter back, I will be sorry to see you go. Farewell.”

Jennifer swallowed and brushed at her eyes. “Thank you.”

Last of all, Jennifer looked at Hatshepsut, the female Pharaoh. “If this works, I guess this is goodbye,” she said.

“I will not forget you…Jennifer,” said the Pharaoh.

“I won’t forget you, either,” said Jennifer.

“Then I am content,” said Hatshepsut.

Jennifer looked at Grandma Jo and flipped open the amulet. “Let’s go.”

Both of them sniffed, hard. At first, nothing happened. Jennifer sighed, and her breath stirred the sticky mixture. The smell of the sharp myrrh was tinted with the scent of the other ingredients.

Her eyesight blurred. Then the world tilted and suddenly she was surrounded by the familiar, gold-shot darkness. For a moment, she thought she saw a ghostly outline of a man wearing a tall, white, split headdress.

And then, nothing.