“Natti, I think it would be best if I—”
“I would really rather be alone,” Natti said, her voice cracking just a bit at the end.
He studied her before withdrawing his hand. “Okay. I’ll see you around.”
At this point, she wasn’t so sure. She began to realize that she really didn’t know him at all. And from their conversation, did she really want to? Politely, she nodded. “Um, thanks for the coffee.” Her throat closed in on itself, choking her slowly with sorrow. She pushed herself off the seat and walked toward the exit, not daring to look back.
Trying hard not to draw any attention to her entry, Natti slowly opened the front door of her home and slipped inside. It was only when she shut the door that the latch of the lock echoed through the silent house, giving her presence away.
“Luv? Is that you?” Her father called.
Natti held the jackal close to her heart. “Yeah. I’m home.” Her depression sunk in even deeper. She felt like crying, and her brain was too muddled to think clearly. Wasn’t she supposed to do something before she let her father see her?
“Dinner should be ready soon!” he called in a cheerful manner. “It’s your favorite, steak, mushroom, and ale pie!”
Natti tucked her hair back and subconsciously hung up her jacket. “Actually, I’m not very hungry. I think I’ll just go to bed, if you don’t mind.”
Footfalls hurried into the hall. Her father charged toward her, wiping his hands off on a dish towel. “Natti, what’s wrong? Are you hurt?” He stepped closer, and then froze. He sniffed the air. His eyes widened with recognition and sadness. “What . . . What is that scent?”
Natti realized the air around her smelled of lotus with the hint of rose, myrrh, saffron, cardamom, and cinnamon. The same perfume her mother use to wear. Suddenly everything came flooding back to her: the makeup, the perfume, the tattoo . . . Oh crap!
Pretending to seem oblivious, she shrugged. “Something a woman at the festival was giving samples of.”
“That perfume . . .” He smelled the air again and gulped. “Sarah always wore . . .” Her father’s focus turned to Natti when she raised her head slightly at the sound of her mother’s name. He froze; his face pale like he had just seen a ghost. His eyes shattered like glass and filled with burning, angry tears. “Natara.”
“It’s—It’s just makeup,” Natti choked and pushed her stuffy farther behind her back. Alexander swung her around to see what else she was hiding. He took the jackal, hardly giving it or her bangles a second glance. His eyes flared, however, when they spotted the ostrich feather on her shoulder blade. He grabbed Natti’s arm when she tried to pull away.
“A tattoo!” His voice changing from disbelief to outrage. “You got a tattoo!”
“It’s just henna!” Natti panicked. She should have known this was a bad idea. Even after all these years, her father was still in pain from the loss of her mother, and she was hurting him more by reminding him what he had lost. “It will come off in a few weeks! I promise!”
“Do you even know what this is?” Her father spat, his grip becoming tight on her arm. “What this represents?”
“It’s the feather of Ma ‘at.” Natti nodded, befuddled by his question. Why would he care what the hieroglyph meant? It wasn’t like she had a gang or cult symbol placed on her skin. “Seth told me when I showed it to him.”
She suddenly wished she hadn’t brought him up. Her mind jumped back to the café when he brushed his fingers over the feather and the near kiss. Her heart still ached from his abrupt change.
“Seth? Who’s Seth?” Her father released her, completely flustered. “I thought you were going with Wanda, Kevin, and Jen!”
“I did! Seth’s just a boy from school that I ran into,” Literally, she thought. “He’s the one who took me to the nurse’s office, and he’s in my gym class. I told you about him.” Well, not everything about him. “He’s also the one who gave me Anubis.” She pointed to the jackal in her father’s hand.
Her father sighed, examining her tattoo one more time.
“Well, at least it’s not the tyet,” he mumbled, and his brow furrowed. “Egyptian symbols, makeup, and perfume. What kind of bloody festival was this, anyway?”