Time Anomaly: A Time Travel Romance (Echo Trilogy, #2) Read online

  I knelt on the floor in front of him and reached out, brushing my fingertips against the At barrier that separated me from the echo of him. “I love you,” I whispered. “I’ll come back to you, I promise.”

  “Lex? Is it really you?” The man who spoke wasn’t Marcus, but he was the next-best thing: Dominic. His faint French accent had never sounded so good.

  I spun on my knees and stared at my half-brother. Tall, slender, and pale, he had black hair that was slicked back elegantly and sharp, handsome features. He was the one who’d remained by my side while Marcus had abandoned me in his last-ditch effort to avoid the prophecy that would bind us together permanently. He’d been the one to comfort me when the waves of depression had been so powerful they threatened to wash me away completely. Where Nuin had been my closest friend for most of my life, Dominic filled that role now.

  “We can’t find you. You’ve disappeared from the At completely.” He closed the distance between us, crouched down to grip my shoulders, and picked me up, crushing me against him in a hug that was equal parts pain and comfort. Though he had a slimmer build than Marcus, his lean muscles held nearly as much strength.

  “Crushing me . . . can’t really breathe,” I managed to grunt.

  “Sorry.” He let up a bit. “Tell me where you are so we can come get you. Marcus is already showing signs of bonding withdrawals, and he thinks they’ll hit you more quickly because you are so much younger. We need to get you back to him as soon as possible.”

  “I’m—” I started to say, but despite his unrelenting hold, the rainbow colors of the At swept in, separating us, and both the echo and Dominic disappeared.

  “Noooooooo!” I howled. Somehow, I’d managed to actually travel to my own time in the At, not just view the future echo, but that time had slipped away like water between my fingers.

  My head throbbed as the colors continued to swirl around me, a furious chaos, and I clutched my nonexistent scalp, trying to keep my skull from exploding.

  I screamed with nonexistent lungs.

  I tore at my nonexistent hair.

  I lashed out at the increasingly frenzied movement of the At.

  Nothing helped. Nothing relieved the pain.

  As I came fully awake, I groaned and curled into a ball, hugging my knees. The pain that had overwhelmed my ba in the At abated, and I slowly unclenched my muscles and relaxed. My mouth tasted sour, like bile. Did I throw up in my sleep?

  I opened my eyes to the golden light of morning streaming in through the high windows, flopped onto my back, and sighed. It looked like bonding withdrawals had started. I wondered if that was the reason my ba had searched out the future version of Heru in the At. I would have asked Nuin, except he was no longer in the room.

  Patting the thin pads that were pretending to be a mattress, I searched for Rus. When I didn’t find his furry little body, I sat up and looked around. As far as I could tell, he wasn’t anywhere in the room, either.

  I took care of my most urgent personal business first, hurrying into the walled-off alcove containing the Old Kingdom equivalent of a toilet—a sort of u-shaped stool with an opening cut out of the seat and a large ceramic vase set underneath. Feeling much relieved, I left the bedchamber in search of Rus . . . and hopefully someone who could explain the current method for cleaning teeth. I was pretty sure it included a stick and a paste of minerals of some kind, but I wasn’t sure where to find such implements, let alone how to use them.

  Rus, as it turned out, was chasing insects in the courtyard. It was my first chance to get a good look at him in any sort of substantial light. He had the coloring of an Abyssinian, with tan, ticked fur that darkened to a brownish-black on his back, except his fur was longer and fluffier than any Abyssinian I’d ever seen. I didn’t think he would grow into a long-haired cat, but I hoped he would at least always be a little fluffy.

  I leaned against a column and watched him for a few minutes, hoping the dull ache in my head and joints was just a remnant of the withdrawal symptoms I’d felt in the At. Why the symptoms seemed to affect my ba far more intensely and quickly than they affected my physical body was just one more thing I needed to ask Nuin.

  “Ah, you are up,” Aset said cheerily from behind me. “Did you sleep well?”

  “Not exactly,” I told her as I turned to face her. “This is sort of embarrassing, but can you show me how to clean my teeth?” I raised my shoulders and scrunched my brow. “You guys do things a bit differently here . . .”

  Aset’s face broke into a kind, almost motherly smile. “Of course. Come with me.” She turned and headed toward the doorway to the hall leading back to Nuin’s rooms.

  I jogged a few steps to catch up to her. “Also, and this is definitely embarrassing, what am I supposed to do about cleaning out the, um, chamber pot . . . if it is no longer, um, empty?”

  Aset laughed. It was a musical sound that instantly put me at ease. “I have seen much of the future—though not so far as the time from whence you come—and I know that many things change, our hygiene practices chief among them.” She wrinkled her nose and glanced at me sideways. “And not all of those changes are always for the better.”

  I laughed, thinking of the Middle Ages in Europe. “I know exactly what you mean. I honestly thought it would be stinkier back, well, now, but it is actually a relief to not be overwhelmed by so many artificial scents.” There had definitely been a little ripeness when we’d been surrounded by the crowd at the pyramid complex, and there’d been an abundance of floral and herbal-scented oils, but none had been as pungent as some of the colognes and perfumes worn—sometimes practically bathed in—by humans of my own time.

  “Well, you are surrounded by people who are aware of the sensitive senses of our kind, so they make an effort to wash often and to not overly perfume their bodies.”

  “It is an effort I definitely appreciate.”

  Aset smiled and raised her eyebrows. “As do I.”

  She led the way back into Nuin’s private area, through the sitting room, and into the bedchamber. She crouched before a wooden chest that was about the size of a shoebox and was inlaid with intricate patterns of ivory and some dark wood. Much like a jewelry box, it had a top that could be raised, and the bottom half was divided evenly into three drawers that could be opened by pulling on a polished ivory knob.

  Aset opened the left-most drawer, revealing a squat alabaster jar with a wooden stopper and a small pile of sticks with frayed tips. She plucked a stick out of the mass and handed it to me, then selected another for herself. After unstoppering the jar, she dipped her index finger into the chalky paste within and started spreading it on her teeth. I mirrored her movements.

  The paste was bitter and a little salty, making me wonder if it contained the ancient predecessor of baking soda, natron.

  When she started scrubbing her teeth with the frayed end of the stick, I did the same, being careful not to scrape so hard that I made my gums bleed. I watched as Aset rose and scooped a palmful of water from the washbasin and slurped it into her mouth. She swished it around for a few seconds, retreated into the toilet alcove, and, based on the sound, spit the water and paste into the waste vessel.

  “All clean,” she said with a bright grin as she reemerged. I did as she’d done, and when I returned to the main part of the bedchamber, she showed me where I could store my tooth stick in the right-most drawer of the chest.

  Aset leaned in unexpectedly and gave me a sniff. “You do not smell ripe, so we will wait until this evening to wash, yes?”

  “Um . . . okay,” I said, feeling a little uncomfortable that she’d just sniffed me and more than a little ridiculous that I had to be shown how to handle basic hygiene. But it had to be done, and if she was offering, I wasn’t about to turn her down.

  “Are you hungry?” she asked. “The cooks like to make a delicious honey bread in the mornings.” She linked her arm with mine and guided me back out of Nuin’s private rooms. “I am sure you will like it.”

>   I glanced over my shoulder. “And the chamber pot?”

  “They are checked regularly. It will be emptied, have no worries.”

  “Okay . . .” As we walked, I rubbed my temple, fairly certain that the aches and pains were getting worse. Nuin hadn’t been worried about either my or Marcus’s withdrawals, so I figured he had to know some trick . . . some way to slow or lessen the symptoms . . . some way for it to not be fatal.

  I cleared my throat. “Do you know where Nuin is, by any chance?”

  “He is out making the final arrangements for the journey, but he should be back later this morning,” she said with a nod.

  I sighed. It looked like my questions would just have to wait. “Everyone keeps mentioning a journey—where are we going?” I stopped halfway down the central walkway to scoop up Rus. He nestled in the crook of my arm, purring lazily.

  “Nobody has told you yet?” She glanced at me, a tiny frown turning down the corners of her mouth. “We are returning to the Netjer-At Oasis, deep in the heart of the desert.”

  “Oh.” It was my turn to frown. “That sounds . . . sandy.”

  Aset laughed. “The trip there, yes. The Oasis, not so much. It is . . . it is hard to describe, but it is very beautiful . . . very lush.” She shrugged. “It is home.”

  The ache in my head gave a rather enthusiastic throb, and I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment. If Nuin wasn’t around to help me, there was only one way to alleviate the withdrawal pains . . . at least, only one way that I knew of.

  “Do you know if Heru is around?” I raised my arm slightly, earning a muffled squeak from Rus. “I wanted to thank him for his gift.”

  “Oh, I am sure he is around here somewhere.” For some reason, her response gave me the impression that she knew where Heru was, but she didn’t particularly want to tell me.

  10

  Request & Deny

  The honey breads were actually more like muffins, and they were pretty tasty, if a little bland. I couldn’t say the same on either account of the tangy fruit juice that accompanied them; it was so tart that my eyes started to water and my mouth stung with the need to salivate profusely after the first sip. Regardless, I ate and drank everything Aset offered to me, knowing I would need the nourishment to make up for my lack of appetite the previous evening. If there was one thing I didn’t want to be, it was a malnourished Nejerette—that way lie all sorts of undesirable temporary side effects, like advanced age progression or sudden weight loss, not to mention weakening my body’s ability to withstand the bonding withdrawals.

  Aset and I sat on one of the built-in benches sheltered within the porticoes surrounding the courtyard as we shared our basket of honey breads and pitcher of juice. Rus spent the time stalking the tiny birds that were hopping around the garden, wiggling his backside awkwardly as he prepared for each pounce.

  “It must be very strange for you, seeing him like this,” Aset commented.

  I looked at her, brow furrowed.

  “My brother.” She finished the final honey bread and dry-washed the crumbs from her fingers.

  “Strange is an understatement,” I muttered. Taking a deep breath, I asked the question that had been perched on the tip of my tongue the entire time we’d been eating. “I know you were hiding something earlier—when I asked you if you knew where Heru was.”

  Aset studied me, her gaze unwavering, but she didn’t say anything.

  “Is it that you disapprove of me—of us?” I inhaled deeply and held my breath.

  She shook her head. “No, Lex, it is just that . . . well, you must remember that time changes a person, and Heru is not the man you are bonded to, not yet. I do not wish for you to be disappointed, or hurt . . . or worse.”

  “I understand.” With a sigh, I patted her hand. “I think I need some alone time . . . to think. You do not mind, do you?”

  Smiling faintly, she shook her head again. “No, dear Lex, I do not. You have been through quite a shock, I think. ‘Alone time,’ as you put it, would be wise.”

  I returned her smile, then rose and gathered up the empty reed basket, placing both the ceramic pitcher and the alabaster cups within it. “I will return this to the kitchen.”

  Aset nodded, making no move to rise.

  “Thank you for everything this morning, Aset. You have been an enormous help,” I told her, my gratitude sincere, and turned to walk away, scooping up Rus as I went.

  After returning the items to the “kitchen,” I retreated to Nuin’s sitting room. But several minutes of pacing was all I could stand, and my headache seemed to worsen with each step.

  I couldn’t stay in there, doing nothing. So, alone and barefoot, I headed out to the hallway to explore. And by “explore,” I meant “find Heru.”

  There were four curtained doorways lining the hallway, and each led to sets of private chambers, much like Nuin’s but smaller. They were all empty. When I reached the courtyard, I checked to make sure Aset wasn’t anywhere in sight, then snuck along the covered walkway to the next off-shooting hall. It was nearly identical to the one ending in Nuin’s rooms.

  As quietly as possible, I made my way into the hall. Just as I was approaching the second set of curtained doorways, I caught the hushed sound of whispering voices. It was coming from the doorway on the right. I froze, straining to hear enough to identify the speakers. If Heru wasn’t one of them, I would move on.

  I focused all of my attention on listening and scowled when I realized they weren’t speaking the original tongue, but Old Egyptian. I frowned as an idea struck me. Heru had claimed he was interested in teaching me the contemporary language; I wondered if taking him up on that offer, regardless of whether it had been a serious offer, might be the best way to spend some time around him to ease at least a bit of the withdrawal pains.

  An bark of laughter came from the room, unmistakably Heru’s, and it was closely followed by a solitary clapping sound—possibly a slap—and a feminine yelp. Heru was in that room, and he was with a woman. And if the sound had indeed been a slap, had he hit the woman, or had the woman hit him?

  I inched closer.

  Heru was speaking, no longer a whisper, and though I couldn’t understand his words, I could distinguish the sharp-edged tone. He was clearly displeased.

  At the sound of a moan and a throaty feminine laugh, I second-guessed my assessment. There was one other situation I’d heard his voice take on such an edge, but . . . no, it couldn’t be that . . .

  If I was hearing some sort of sexual interlude between Heru and another woman, I would lose it. I would most likely burst into the room and tear the other woman away from him, and then I would be Nuin’s psychotic, voyeuristic wife with a violent streak and an unhealthy obsession with her husband’s grandson. I shook my head, working up the courage to just walk away.

  Heru said something else, and I heard footsteps nearing the doorway.

  I glanced around wildly, then lunged across the hall to the curtain blocking off the doorway opposite the one where I’d been eavesdropping. Thankfully, one quick look around the sitting room told me it was empty. I pressed my back against the plaster wall beside the doorway and held my breath, taking in a full dose of the spicy scent that filled the room. I held in a groan. There was no mistaking Heru’s enticing, exotic scent. I had no doubt that I’d hidden in his private quarters. Of course I did . . .

  Much to my horror, Heru pushed through the curtain and entered the room, pausing mid-step when he saw me. An eyebrow quirked up curiously, but he didn’t say anything as he continued into the room. He raised his index finger to his lips in the apparently timeless gesture signaling the need for silence and glanced at the curtain.

  It seemed that he didn’t want the woman, whoever she was, to know I was in there.

  There were more footsteps, and they stopped on the other side of the curtain. “Heru,” a woman called into the room, then said something else I didn’t understand.

  My blood boiled as I recognized her voice—Ankhesenpepi. S
he was the woman he’d been with in the other room, the one who’d moaned and laughed far too suggestively. A violent, burning rage flared to life within me.

  Heru snapped an answer to Ankhesenpepi, his tone notably dismissive, and not long after, there was the sound of quick footsteps moving up the hallway toward the courtyard. Heru and I watched each other while we listened until the footsteps were no longer audible, and even then, we stared for several more seconds. My back was still pressed against the wall, and my chest was rising and falling too quickly with each shallow breath.

  “What are you doing in here?” he asked me in the original tongue, his eyes narrowed. Only when he turned away, breaking our eye contact, was I able to take a full breath.

  “I am sorry. I truly did not mean to—” I sidestepped to the doorway, looking anywhere but at him. “I shall go.”

  “Wait.”

  I paused and, after a long, painful moment, managed to look at him.

  He eased down into a wooden chair beside a narrow senet table on the far side of the room and rubbed a hand over his closely shaved scalp. “Apologies, Hat-hur. You caught me off guard. Please, come . . . sit with me.” He indicated the chair on the opposite side of the table.

  Slowly, I crossed the room and did as he bid, sitting primly and clasping my hands in my lap. But I couldn’t make myself meet his eyes.

  “Based on your evident retreat into my rooms, I can only assume you overheard my conversation with Ankhesenpepi?”

  I bit my lip. “Sort of, but not exactly. I heard some of it, but you should not be worried . . . I could not understand it.” I flicked my gaze up to his face, but his expression gave nothing away. “I am so sorry. I should not have eavesdropped, but I was looking for you, and—”

  Intrigue flashed in his golden eyes. “You were looking for me? Why?”

  “To thank you . . . for Rus—” I shook my head. “For the kitten, and to ask if you were serious about your offer to teach me the common language.”

  Some hidden tension within Heru seemed to ease, and he relaxed in his chair. “I am no longer certain that is such a good idea.”