CHAPTER TWELVE: June 17, 3000 B.C.

The first thing I notice when we arrive in Ancient Egypt is the river. The Nile itself, lifeblood of the Egyptians, flowing swiftly northward. Even though we’ve arrived during the season of low water, or harvest time, the river still is a sight to behold. The fertile floodplains surrounding it are filled with harvesters at work in the rich soil, bringing in the grain before the next flooding season hits. I breathe in deeply, taking note of how different the air smells than in my own time: richer, fuller, more organic.

“Be on your guard.” Dr. Wells is at my side in the blink of an eye, dressed as the Egyptians in a linen kilt that looks totally wrong on his pale and portly figure, even with the straight, black wig he’s wearing. He must’ve been hiding among the shadows of the nearby huts, waiting for me. His face is red from the heat and sun, and his kilt smudged from the two days he’s already spent here.

He’d Jumped two days earlier under a falsified profile to scope out the area. It also provided a reason for “Elise” to be Jumping to that era: to Retrieve him—a lost “client.” The real Elise and Nell had wanted to join us, but considering neither of them have much experience in the past yet, we talked them into staying in 2005. Dr. Wells and I would have the element of surprise, which ought to be enough to overpower Taylor, take his Wormhole Device from him, and Extract away.

I check the wristwatch that I’d pinned into the folds of my kilt. “We’d better get out of the sun. He won’t show up far from here, but we might be waiting a while.”

“Very good. To tell you the truth, I’ve been quite enjoying myself, and the contemporaries have been most hospitable, though I did have to convince them that I wasn’t their god Horus.” He chuckles. “It seems my hair reminded them of the feathers of a white falcon, and my spectacles, being the shape of a half-moon, reminded them of the sky. I set them straight, though, assured them I was just a traveler passing through. I even got a glimpse of King Narmer. Did you know he really did wear a double crown, just like his depictions? I don’t know why more travelers aren’t interested in this era; it’s rather fascinating, and their artistry is beautiful.”

“Should’ve known I’d find you here.”

The voice is immediately familiar, and I squint to see him, standing in the shadow of the hut. Taylor. He looks exactly like I’d last seen him; in fact, judging by his unkempt hair and bruised nose, he must have Jumped the same day Nell and I did. It wouldn’t have taken him long after we left to search through the records and find the Jumps we attributed to Elise.

He raises a pistol, aiming it at my head.

“You can’t use that here,” I say stupidly.

“What are you talking about?”

“You idiot.” I go for broke and take two steps toward him, nearly close enough to reach out and touch the thing, gleaming maliciously in the Egyptian sun. “Tell me this, Taylor: how exactly did you get hired at PITTA when you can’t even figure out not to bring back a modern-day pistol to ancient times? And, what, you’re going to fire that off now? Leaving the bullet embedded in my brain for the Egyptians to find? And you call yourself a professional time traveler.”

“Shut up, Dodge. Where is she?”

“Who?”

“The governess. Elise, or whatever her name is. If that’s who she really is.”

“Why are you stalking her?”

“Justice,” he spits out. “She shouldn’t have been meddling with the timeline, ruining innocent lives. You tell me: why are you protecting her?”

“Gentlemen,” Dr. Wells interrupts, glancing anxiously over his shoulder to where a couple of the agricultural workers have started to take notice of the argument.

Taylor turns the pistol on Dr. Wells. “You! I ought to have suspected you were involved as soon as I saw that this supposed Retriever had so few Jumps recorded. Why don’t you keep your nose out of the future, old man? It’s none of your business.”

“The future is everyone’s business,” Dr. Wells says, “particularly those of us who, as you put it, meddle with time. Elise Morley is one of my employees, and therefore I have a vested interest in what happens to her and who—regardless of their era of origin—is trying to kill her.”

“I’m not trying to kill her,” Taylor says, his stone face softening into an expression that looks almost like regret. “I’m just ensuring that I already did.”

“What?” My fist works more quickly than my brain. It connects with his face before I can even process whether he’s threatening Cass, Elise, or my Mum. He’s on the ground, the pistol in the dust beside him before I can even piece together why I did it.

Fortunately, Dr. Wells at least has his head on straight. He dives for the gun and tucks it into his kilt, glancing around to make sure no one else saw what just transpired.

Dr. Wells is almost quick enough to get away with it, too, except that Taylor recovers more quickly than either of us suspect and grabs the old man’s leg, dragging him to the ground with a thud and a plume of dust. Dr. Wells kicks back, and Taylor throws himself at him, with a quickness and strength I wouldn’t have suspected from him.

“Hey, stop it!” I shout, diving in to pull them apart. Somewhere in the shuffle, the pistol’s on the ground again, and then it’s in a hand, shaking, with the barrel pointed to the sky, and with all the arms and legs and grunts and layers of linen fabric scuffling on the dry ground, I can’t even tell who’s holding it. The whole pile of us shifts. I lose sight of the gun.

A shot rings out.

Someone screams, and I pull away, a cold terror in my gut. Red stains a swab of white fabric.

I don’t move.

I don’t breathe.

I hold perfectly still, as if somehow, by doing so, I can have a redo on all this.

With a grunt, Dr. Wells scrambles to his feet, staring at the weapon in his hand like it’s a poisonous snake. Taylor writhes on the ground, clutching his middle and screaming between gasping breaths.

“Taylor?” I drop to the ground, but Dr. Wells grabs my arm.

“We’ve got to get out of here,” he says.

“But Taylor… the bullet…”

Voices are approaching, working their way up from the river to investigate the unfamiliar noise. I’d placed the FISH device in my ear before I Jumped, and in their language, I can hear the Egyptians’ startled speculations.

“It’s the Set animal! The one that was lurking in the desert!”

“And Horus! Horus has defeated Set!”

Dr. Wells crouches at Taylor’s side, and for a moment, I think he’s trying to administer first aid, but then he stands, clutching Taylor’s Wormhole Device.

“There’s not much we can do about the bullet right now, but we can’t afford to let them find this,” he says. “Where’s your Wormhole? We must go quickly, before the Egyptians reach us.”

“But Taylor—”

Taylor is still screaming, a sound so pained and inhuman that I can see why they think he must be part-animal. He looks more pitiful than I’ve ever seen anyone, and it shocks me into inaction. I can’t leave him like this.

But before I can force myself to move, Dr. Wells grabs my hand, along with my Wormhole Device, and presses the pad of my thumb against the fingerprint ID lock.

“Wait!” I say, already feeling the tug of time against me, stealing the words from off my tongue. “I have to ask him! I have to know—”