Free Intuition by C. J. Omololu

me. “What’s his name?”
    I look back at her, determined not to give it away, but I can see from her expression I’ve already lost. “Drew.” I say it so softly that I can barely hear myself speak, but I can tell by the look on Janine’s face that the name reached her just fine.
    Sue sits up straighter in her chair. “And he’s someone you met recently?”
    â€œYes. He knows my sister. And I saw him at a party the other night. He keeps trying to tell me that we were together in England in the sixteenth century.” I look at Janine. “The same lifetime where I met Griffon.”
    I’m almost rewarded by the fact that Janine looks surprised. “So what does Drew want from you?”
    â€œHe said it was fate that we’re together now. I could tell he was hurt that I didn’t believe him. I was married to someone named Connor . . . before . . . and I remember parts of it. I have a strong memory of him being taken away by the king’s soldiers. Something about treason. I think it was just after that that he was killed.”
    â€œAnd you’re sure of these memories?” Sue asks. “This Drew person isn’t imposing his memories on you?”
    â€œI’m sure.” I pull the ankh out of my shirt, the dark red ruby in the center almost glowing, despite the fact that we’re inside under fluorescent lights. “I remember Connor giving me this back then. Griffon returned it to me after all this time.”
    Sue gets up and takes a step toward me. “May I see that up close?”
    I nod, and she lifts the ankh up, examining the front and the back. “This is definitely from that time period.”
    â€œHe had it made for me. I remember him saying that in a memory I had early on.”
    Sue looks at Janine and then back to me. “If he had an ankh made for you in the sixteenth century, then that means Connor was probably Akhet back then. It’s not a common symbol for that time, at least not in England. He must be Iawi.” She sits back in her chair and looks at the two of us. “How did the ankh end up with Griffon?”
    I hesitate, but don’t see any reason not to tell her the truth. “He’d gotten it as payment. For executing me.”
    She looks confused. “An Akhet executioner? I can’t imagine.”
    â€œHe wasn’t Akhet then,” I say quickly. “He was forced into it. And when he became Akhet in the seventeenth century, he spent most of a lifetime tracking down the family heirlooms that had been given to him so that he could hopefully return them one day.”
    Sue nods. “Interesting form of penance,” she says thoughtfully.
    â€œSo you said this boy’s name was Drew?” Janine continues. “How old is he in this lifetime? What does he look like?”
    I close my eyes, trying to focus on the details and not the whole package. Because I’m not attracted to him, no matter how he thinks our past lives connected. No matter what I felt for Connor back then. “Twentysomething, I think. Tall, blond hair and blue eyes. With an accent. He’s from Australia originally and does jewelry design for the shop where Kat works.”
    Janine looks thoughtful. “Hmm. He may be Iawi, but he’s not Sekhem. I didn’t even know anyone like that was nearby.”
    â€œKhered?” Sue asks Janine.
    â€œMust be,” Janine nods.
    â€œWhat’s Khered?” It seems like every day there’s some new mysterious word they’re throwing around.
    â€œKhered are like children,” Sue explains, a hint of disdain in her voice. “They’re Akhet, usually newer Akhet, who don’t want the responsibility of the knowledge and abilities that come to us over our lifetimes. They spend their time looking for personal gratification—fame, money, parties, drinking. Mostly frivolous activities. They generally shun the Sekhem and all we stand