“It really was good to see you,” I told Dr. Ramirez while I hugged him goodbye, meaning the words with all my heart. Not only had it been nice to catch up, but I felt a huge relief having actually seen my former advisor in the flesh. Whatever was happening to him in the At, Dr. Ramirez was okay in the real, tangible world, and that was what truly mattered.
He returned my sentiment and said his farewells and nice-to-meet-yous, and I remained standing as I watched him weave his way between occupied and vacant tables and walk out through the café’s wide entrance. Only when he was finally out of sight, having passed through the library’s glass doors, did I sit back down, stiff as a mummy. My relief at his well-being was eclipsed by the wrongness emanating from the graceful little box sitting in the middle of the table, surrounded by a moat of food wrappers, napkins, drink bottles, and coffee cups.
“Are you going to fill me in on what’s bothering you, or must I guess?” Dominic asked from the opposite side of the table.
I met his dark, worried eyes. “It’s that thing,” I said, pointing to the box. “It feels . . .” I shuddered. “Wrong. It just feels wrong, somehow . . . like a really disturbing sucking void of, I don’t know, wrongness.” I met Kat’s eyes. “Didn’t you feel it?”
She quirked her mouth to the side and shook her head. “But it’s just a pocket watch.” Pushing her lunch trash to the corner of the table, she reached for the box.
I grabbed hold of her wrist without thought, and she looked at me with widened eyes. “I don’t think you should touch it,” I told her, trying to smooth out the alarm tensing my features. “I don’t think anyone should touch it.”
Nik slid into Dr. Ramirez’s abandoned chair and leaned his forearms on the table, getting a closer look at the harmless-looking box. “And why’s that?” He cocked his head to the side and pulled back a bit. “You sensed something when you opened it—that much was obvious. Is it made of At?”
“No,” Kat said, voicing my slight head shake. “It’s black. It’s kinda pretty, though . . . in a weird way.”
Frowning, I stared at the box. The watch was pretty, what with all that delicate filigree work and the striking black metal. But any attraction it held was far overshadowed by its repulsive wrongness.
“What is it?” Dominic said, and I glanced up at him, only to follow his wary line of sight to Nik’s face. He was absolutely still, his expression blank and his gaze distant.
In a blink, his irises flashed from pale blue to opalescent white, and his gaze locked on me. I saw an emotion I’d never seen in those eyes, set in either Nik’s or Nuin’s face: horror.
Slowly, Re-Nik reached out and lifted the lid of the box. The ticking intensified once more, as did the wrongness pouring out of the watch in wave after repellant wave. He stared at the small, black soul-sore for several seconds, then sighed and gently lowered the lid. “Perhaps I should have anticipated this, but . . .” He shook his head, his eyes downcast. “I was unaware that any Nejeret alive had developed the ability to create such a thing.” He looked at me again, his gaze beseeching. “It shouldn’t be possible.”
“Re,” I said, drawing out the entity-in-charge’s name. “You’re doing that thing where you only say really vague and cryptic things again . . .”
“Oh my God, totally,” Kat exclaimed. “I’m glad it’s not just me.”
“It’s not,” Dominic said, with a miniscule nod of agreement. “Please, Great Father, explain to us what it is you aren’t saying.”
Re-Nik studied each of us in turn as he considered how to word his response. Finally, his opal eyes locked onto me, and Nik’s youthful features grew weary under the weight of Re’s thoughts. “Ma’at—universal balance—is not merely a concept, but a universal law of being woven through everything in existence across all dimensions, all planes . . . all universes. You, my Alexandra, are the embodiment of ma’at as you sit here today with the two driving forces of creation and destruction in this universe nestled safely in your womb, equal and opposite in power . . . balanced.”
I instinctively laced my fingers together and pressed them against my abdomen. It was difficult to wrap my mind around the thought—no, the fact—that the children I was carrying were so terrifyingly important to, quite literally, everything.
“But ma’at is visible in a much more mundane way—everywhere and in everything,” Re-Nik continued. “You are familiar with At, but less so with its counterpart: the in-between, the substance linking this moment to the next, interweaving threads of the At. There is no word for it in a human tongue, for none was ever needed, but it is the very glue holding time and space together.”
Upon seeing what no doubt had to be a flabbergasted expression on my face, he leaned closer and said, “The fabric of the At alone could not sustain this.” He raised his hands slightly and cast a quick glance around the room. “It would be chaos, constant change and perpetual motion that has no meaning or form or purpose. Its balancing force provides stability, opposing the At in every way. And as such, At is drawn to it, anchored by it, and the two forces combine in perfect concert.” He breathed in and out slowly, studying each of our faces. “And with their marriage comes creation.”
“Like matter and antimatter?” Kat asked quietly.
Ever so slowly, like a trio of unoiled marionettes, Dominic, Re-Nik, and I looked at Kat.
“You know . . . like how when an antimatter particle gets together with its matching matter twin and they, like, annihilate each other or whatever and release a bunch of energy and, um, stuff.” She looked at each of us, her cheeks reddening. “What? I got a five on the AP Physics test, okay? I know stuff.” Mumbling, she added, “Some stuff . . .”
“Katarina is very astute in her comparison,” Re-Nik said with a conciliatory bow of his head. “In fact, I would say that the concepts of matter and antimatter are quite likely the closest modern science has yet to come to explaining ma’at.”
I licked my lips and cleared my throat. “Okay . . . so this in-between antimatter stuff—is that what the watch is made of?”
Re-Nik nodded.
“And that’s why it feels so . . .” I shivered melodramatically.
“Yes and no,” he said. “Much like solidified At can be imbued with certain properties, such as the Hathor statuette that pulled you back to ancient times, its counterpart can be anchored to an aspect of creation, like a specific object or person. It’s an aberration of ma’at, which is probably why it’s disturbing the twins so much, Alexandra, that you’re picking up on their discomfort.”
“Hmm . . .” So my weird feeling all day really had been linked to the pregnancy, just not in the way I’d suspected. “So, what happens after this ‘anchoring’?” I asked, sucking in a breath and holding it while I waited for Re-Nik to respond. Because I was fairly certain he was implying that the watch made of this in-between, anti-At stuff was anchored to Dr. Ramirez, and I was terrified to find out what that meant for the kindly old professor.
“Annihilation?” Kat said in a small voice.
“For an object or a being without a ba, no,” Re-Nik said, glancing at Kat, but once again retraining his eyes on me. “Your Dr. Ramirez will be completely erased from the At, in time, but it will not affect him on this plane of existence. But—” He raised his eyebrows. “For a being with a ba—for any Nejeret—it is a different matter entirely. The link created by the individual’s ba between the physical body on this plane and their reflection in the At would mean that once their existence was erased from the At, the same would happen to their body, here.”
I swallowed roughly. “But why would someone do that to Dr. Ramirez? Why go through all the trouble to anchor this thing to him just to erase him from the At?”
“Ah, but that’s just it,” Re-Nik said, his voice soft, cautious . . . dangerous. “This watch wasn’t created with the specific purpose of binding to your Dr. Ramirez—the desire to bond with elements of At is a basic principle of its nature. Once given solid form, it will affect anyone who touches it until it is depleted. The watch was simply created and, I’m assuming, given to Dr. Ramirez with the intention of him passing it on to you, my Alexandra. It was sheer luck that he handled it, anchoring it to the reflection of himself in the At, and that you have such a close tie to an echo containing him. It was your first, and as such, you felt it deep in your ba the moment it was altered—or in this case, the moment the echo reappeared in the At. My point is, without that particular string of events, we wouldn’t have gone into this meeting on high alert, and the worst could have happened.” He stared at me intently. “Any of us could have touched the watch. You could have . . .”
I blanched, then looked at Kat. Her face was so washed out I thought she might be seconds away from fainting. I reached for her hand under the table and gave her fingers a squeeze. “You didn’t touch it,” I said, aiming for reassuring but certain I’d fallen short. “You’re okay.”
Kat nodded, looking like she was about to throw up.
“So,” Dominic started, and we all looked at him. “I’m assuming this—this thing didn’t simply burst into existence on its own.”
He’d voiced what I’d been too afraid to say aloud, and now I felt like I was about to throw up. “So who could’ve made it?”
Crickets.
A sickening thought struck me, and I licked my lips, but my mouth was so dry that it did no good. Reaching for my coffee cup, I took a drink of tepid latte. “There’s no way that this could be like the Hathor statuette, could it? There’s not some unexpected trip to the past scheduled in the near future, where I go back and create this thing with the sole purpose of destroying Nejerets—specifically myself—is there?” My voice rose in pitch as I spoke, and a slight tremble started in my hands. I let go of the coffee cup and pressed my palms against my thighs in an attempt to control the shaking.
Re-Nik took such a long time to respond that my stomach twisted into a nauseating tangle. “No, my Alexandra, the scenario as you’ve suggested it is impossible. Only if you had complete access to Apep’s sheut would you be able to create something like this watch,” he said, tapping the box’s shiny lid once more. “And Apep’s sheut is only compatible with humanoids carrying the Y chromosome.”
Somewhere in the far recesses of my mind, I realized he’d just told me one of my children would be a boy by necessity of the sheut that would be bound through every particle of his being.
“So, either the future carrier of Apep’s sheut is responsible for this,” Re-Nik said, “or Nik, here, is not the only Nejeret to have been born with his own sheut.”
“But I thought you kept that from happening,” I said, panic and disbelief battling for control in my chest. “You policed the timeline yourself to make sure no other kids were born of two Nejeret parents.”
Re-Nik stared at me for several seconds, and then he shrugged. He shrugged. His only response to the possibility that he might’ve failed in one of his self-proclaimed most important tasks and allowed the birth of a Nejeret with the ability to destroy our kind absolutely was a damn shrug.
I was at a complete and utter loss for words.
“So . . . maybe this is a long shot,” Kat said, breaking the tense silence, “but isn’t it possible that this is just a coincidence?” Her focus skipped around to each of us. “Like, couldn’t someone have made this—I don’t know—two hundred years ago or whatever and Dr. Ramirez just stumbled across it and assumed it was for you because of your name and everything, but maybe it was really for someone else with the same name?” She deflated visibly, slouching back in her chair. “And now that I’ve said that out loud, I’ve heard how stupid it sounds.”
“Not stupid,” I said, giving her knee a squeeze under the table. “Just optimistic. It’s good to be able to see all the possible angles.”
I split my gaze between Dominic and Re-Nik for several long seconds, then settled my focus on the more ancient of the two. I was confounded by his apparent indifference to how this might’ve happened, but I put that aside for the moment. “While figuring out who did this is definitely a top priority, I think getting rid of the danger is probably a smidgen more important at the moment.” As Dominic reached into his trouser pocket for his cell phone, my eyes snapped to him. “Do not call Marcus right now.”
His dark gaze burned into me, his sharp features tense. “He needs to know.”
“Not yet.” I took a deep breath and set my jaw, preparing for a prolonged stare-down. It was a tactic that usually worked on Dominic on the rare occasion that we were at odds with one another. Not this time. As he inhaled to argue further, I cut him off with, “It’s pointless to tell Marcus now. We’re too far away for him to be able to do anything but worry.”
I could see Dominic’s determination wavering.
“We’ll go back to the car and I’ll sit in there like a good little Meswett until Neffe gets back, and I promise I’ll tell Marcus everything as soon as we get home. But if you tell Marcus now, he’ll demand that we return immediately, and Neffe won’t be able to finish her research on poor little Tarsi . . .” I stared into his eyes, pleading with my own. I couldn’t stand the idea of Tarset being frozen in time for a second longer than necessary. “Dom, please.”
Finally, Dominic gave a single, slow nod. “But if we sense even a hint of danger, we’re leaving immediately.”
“I believe the only threat to Alexandra on this day is sitting on the table,” Re-Nik said, pointing to the slender box with his chin. “Clearly whoever planted the watch on Dr. Ramirez intended for it to find its way to Alexandra, and we can safely assume that their objective was not simply to kill her, but to remove her from existence entirely.”
I frowned. “Isn’t that sort of the same thing?”
“No, my Alexandra, it is not.”
I raised my eyebrows.
“Had you touched the pocket watch, in time, it would have been as though you’d never existed at all.” He leaned forward, elbows on the table and fingers steepled together. “The past would have rearranged into a pattern absent of you entirely. And considering your recent trip into ancient times, anyone can see that the ramifications would be enormous.” He nodded slowly to himself, his eyes squinted in thought. “But had you touched the watch, it would have taken quite a while to unravel the threads of your existence completely and weave those that remain back together in a new pattern, so . . .” He nodded again, more definitively this time. “It seems fairly obvious to me that you are quite safe right now, especially from whoever laid the trap. The deceiver has invested in this particular offensive.” He looked at me, certainty written all over his face. “Killing you would be counterproductive, at present.”
I blew out a breath and slouched back in my chair, mimicking Kat. “Well, isn’t that a relief,” I said sarcastically.
“Yeah, not so much,” Nik said, his sarcasm matching mine. His eyes had returned to their natural pale blue once more, his features transformed to his harsher, standoffish expression. He reached out and dragged the box closer to him, then lifted the lid once more.
“Nik!” I all but shouted as he lowered his hand to the beyond-deadly pocket watch. “What are you doing?”
He glanced at me, his eyes steely. “Neutralizing the threat,” he said, his hand hovering over the watch.
I saw a flash of quicksilver beneath his palm, and then a translucent film of pearly At seemed to wink into existence around the offending device. He’d encased the watch in solidified At.
I stared at the thing, eyes wide with wonder. The ticking—the feeling of dread, of revulsion, of wrongness—was gone. It was like the oxygen had been slowly draining from the room, but now it had been replenished and I could finally—finally—take a blissfully deep breath.
Despite my overwhelming relief, I flinched when Nik curled his fingers around the watch and picked it up. “Nik, are you sure—”
“It’s perfectly safe now, Lex.” He flashed me a devilish smirk and winked. “Promise.” His good humor lasted only so long. His eyes widened when he looked at the back of the pocket watch, then narrowed to irritated slits. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised,” he said, flinging the watch back into its little depression in the case facedown.
“It’s your name!” Kat exclaimed to Nik, having read the engraving upside down.
“No,” I said softly. While the letters N, I, and K were engraved into the smooth black metal on the back of the watch, they didn’t spell out “Nik.” I sighed, suddenly very tired. “Not NIK—it says KIN.” The same group who’d stolen the sphere containing Apep, his twisted soul. The same group who’d shot Dominic. The same group who’d turned Kat’s mom against Nejeretkind completely.
I looked at Kat in time to see the color drain from her face. “You don’t think it was—” She swallowed roughly, took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and tried again. “You don’t think my mom was a part of this—of trying to—to erase you, Lex, do you?” When she opened her eyes, twin streams of tears streaked down her cheeks.
In that single moment, I didn’t feel fear or worry or the urgent need to run and hide. Like Re had said—the danger, for now, was past. At the moment, I only felt a deep-seated sadness for the young woman sitting beside me. For the pain and guilt this was causing her. For the longing I could see in her eyes—that of a little girl crying out for her mother to hold her and tell her everything would be okay. For not being able to reassure her of her mom’s innocence.
So I did the only thing I could think of. I slid out of my chair, crouched beside Kat’s, and wrapped my arms around her, giving her what little comfort I could while she cried.