Kronastia motioned them with a quick jerk of his head. Shep turned to Hector to find the latter’s jaw making a dive for the floor. The agent gave them a tempting smile as the two walked through the passport check with passports unchecked.
“How did you ... What did you ...”
The Russian smirked, but his steps remained constant, dragging them forward. “I have a certain way of charming young ladies, gentlemen. No need to worry. Ah, there’s Anton.”
The valet waved to them from near the terminal exit door, outside of which sat a waiting limo. They all piled in with their sparse carry-ons and relaxed into the plush leather seats. Shep looked around wildly to see if he could find a wet bar, and was soon rewarded with the discovery of a single serve gin. He downed the poison without asking permission, without even looking around to see where they were headed. As the warmth of the alcohol began to spread through him, he became observant of way too many media trucks staged on the edges of Heathrow.
Hector must have noticed the same, for a moment later he asked, “What’s going on here? What’s all the excitement? The queen fall down a flight of stairs?”
Anton leaned over to his master and whispered something in his ear. Kronastia nodded. “Yes, Anton, please do.”
The valet leaned forward to a TV embedded in the front console of the passenger compartment. With a flick of his wrist, the screen filled with the image of a middle-aged woman and an older, balding man sitting at a desk, with the graphic declaring “Breaking” hovering between their heads.
“I understand now that an image of the suspect is to be released. Authorities aren’t sure how she’s concealing herself inside the body of the plane, but the airliner has been taxied off to a secure area of the airport. Dogs used in search-and-rescue are said to be en route in order to give the plane a more thorough search.” The anchor pushed against her earphone. “Yes, here it is. This image was taken off a security camera feed as she boarded the flight in Mexico City yesterday.”
Shep and Hector gasped as the familiar face of Victoria Kent flashed across the screen.
“I guess you weren’t lying after all,” Hector mumbled.
Kronastia only gave him a wry, told-you-so look in response. “Ah, see there?” He tapped his finger on the bag hanging from her side in the photo still, its image grainy and green-hued. “Those must be the artifacts you dug up, Dr. Gonzalez. Trust me, gentlemen, she won’t let that bag leave her side unless it’s into very trusted hands.”
Shep let his curiosity grab his tongue. “She’ll find a buyer that quickly, you think? Even with all this heat on her?”
“Silly Dr. Smyth, she’s not going to sell those. They’re emotional prizes for her, completely personal. I never took Tlalli for a sentimental person, but she’s never taken me for a sincere one. I guess we’re equal. She’s still convinced that she’s on her mission.”
Shep looked at him from the corner of his eye with great unease. “A mission to do what?”
Kronastia leaned in. “Why, what else, Dr. Smyth? Save the world.”
Hector, who had been sitting rather quietly, even lethargically, jolted when the mobster’s phone chirped.
“Took you long enough.” Dmitri sounded almost playful. The other party conversed for a few minutes, and if Shep wasn’t mistaken there was some screeching involved. “What can I say, I called in some favors. You didn’t expect me to let Jaguar get away, did you, Anathea?”
Shocked, Shep slapped at Dmitri’s knee and mouthed “Hermapolous?”
Dmitri nodded, but put his fingers in a hushing motion over his lips. “Of course. I really didn’t expect anything less, but you can’t blame me for trying. And I wanted to see how far you’d go. You know me, always trying to get the best performance out of you. I’ll have you know, though, arranging fighter jets on such short notice was no small feat, and not exactly cheap. I almost decided against it, but what can I say, my temptations always get the better of me where you’re concerned.”
An insincere smile spread across his face as Dmitri clicked his tongue in disapproval. “Well, if the opportunity should arise, I’ll look forward to doing just that.”
With that, Shep heard a resounding grunt of frustration and a click.
“It probably shouldn’t surprise me that you know Anathea Hermapolous as well, I guess?” Shep searched the cabin for another bottle, but came up short.
“As well?” Dmitri repeated. He exchanged a knowing glance with Anton. “No, probably not, Dr. Smyth. Ana and I go back some ways, in fact.”
Shep leaned forward, beckoning Anton nearer. The valet, a little wary of the attention, leaned across the way, wearing a confused expression.
“Is he always so damn cryptic?” Shep asked.
Anton exhaled. “More so, usually.”
Chapter 14
Before he knew it, the better part of two hours had passed. Which was fine, Alex thought. He wasn’t in any rush, and it wasn’t his place to tell Victoria that she should be either. She had to have known, however, that their car parked in the driveway didn’t go unnoticed. More than once, he’d witnessed the ecru lace curtains on the second story of the Elizabethan country estate swing back into position when he’d glanced up.
Finally, Victoria broke the silence. “I can’t remember the last time I watched the sunset.”
“It’s England in the winter. No one remembers the last time they watched the sunset.”
The brightness in her features proved fleeting as her flickering smile flat-lined. “They change, you know. You wouldn’t think they do; it’s still the same sun it’s always been. But, like so many things in life, what we see on the horizon depends on the landscape through which we view it. Alex, I’m scared.”
“Scared?” The very idea was preposterous. “What could possibly scare you?”
“Failing. Succeeding. Maybe both.” Victoria swept her hand to indicate the house in front of which they were parked. “I just hate going in there knowing that, if I fail, they all die. And if I succeed, then what? Do I just go on watching as people I care for grow old and die?”
Her face went red. “I’m not sure which I’m more afraid of, dying next week, or living forever. I guess that’s absurdly selfish of me, isn’t it?”
“I don’t think it’s selfish to feel overwhelmed that you have to save the world. And I have no doubt that you’ll do it. If even one-quarter of the stories I’ve heard about you are true, we don’t have anything to fear.”
Victoria narrowed her gaze. “What stories?”
“Ones people in The Order have told me. Like that Old Scottish guy with one eye. He said you rescued him from a street gang and sent them all packing.”
“True, but there were only five of them.” Her gaze grew distant as she fled into her memories. “All pretty young, too. Oldest one couldn’t have been more than twenty. I probably shouldn’t have been so rough on them, but I guess I just saw red. Seamus was so tiny.”
“Seamus says you probably saved his life. Oh, and the Romanian woman, Maria? She told me once that you paid to have all the houses in her village rebuilt after the war.”
“Actually, it was her mother’s village. A lot of good that did. Hitler’s Reich came right back in a generation later and knocked it all down again.”
“But anyone with such a kickass combination of valor and compassion can do anything.” For some reason, the understanding that the war Maria had talked about wasn’t even the second world war, but the first, sent Alex’s mind reeling. “There’s something I’ve always wanted to ask you.”
“Hmm?”
“How old are you?”
“That’s a very rude question to ask a lady, you know.” Victoria pursed her lips and blew. “I’ve already told you, I was twenty-five when the Altunai made me immortal, but that’s not what you’re asking, is
it?” He shook his head. “A little over five thousand, then.”
He whistled his surprise. “Wow. I guess you would have to be pretty old to be an Egyptian goddess.” With a wink, he nudged her arm. “Isn’t that right, Sekhmet?”
“You do know I hate that name, don’t you? Not that I’m fond of Victoria, necessarily.”
“You have, like, five hundred of them. Give me one you actually like and maybe I’ll use it.”
The olive-skinned beauty took to musing. “Tlalli.”
He took a pack of smokes from his pocket and tapped one out into his hand. “Tlalli? Doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue.”
“Depends on whose tongue is doing the rolling,” Victoria said as the flame from the lighter licked the end of Alex’s cigarette. She reached forward and stole it, making the flame leap in a fairy rhythm over the tips of her fingers. “Those things will kill you, you know.”
“Said the woman playing with fire. Besides, second hand smoke too is dangerous. Maybe you should consider undoing your seatbelt and going inside.”
She shifted uncomfortably, balling her hand into a fist and extinguishing the flame. At first, thinking he’d finally overstepped the bounds of their friendship, he was surprised when instead of bite back, Victoria did as he suggested and unhinged her seatbelt. Her hand rested on the handle for a moment as she stared at the floor. “There’s only one danger to my life, one being on Earth that can kill me: the bastard Altunai who made me into what I am. Guess who I have to face down to save the world?” When their gazes met, Alex felt a chill go down his spine. He’d never seen her eyes so wild, so bright, so full of vengeance. “I need power, Alex. I need the stone. You don’t understand, it’s not just a prize. The stone is more like a mystic fuel cell. On 12.21.12, the baktun ends and the fuel cell activates. Whoever has control of the stone will have a shit ton of power. Dmitri will use it to open the gate and let the Altunai return. But if I have the stone, I can keep Dmitri from succeeding. If need be, I can even end him.”
In a moment, the seat was empty, and Victoria was already half up the garden walk. Alex sprang from the car, the cigarette pursed in his lips, and dashed in pursuit. “Now you decide we’re going in? I just lit this.”
“Un-light it, then.” She slung the bag of artifacts over her shoulder, narrowly missing Alex’s head.
“Do you know how much cigarettes cost in this bloody country?”
“Would you like me to reimburse you? Fine, I’ll have Lazarus dig out a few shillings.”
“God damn it, Victoria, stop!” Pulling her by the shoulder, he turned her to face him. “You’re crying. What happened? Something’s got you all rattled all of a sudden.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She looked away, but he’d already caught sight of the teardrops on her cheeks.
Holding her out at arm’s length, he narrowed his gaze. “Like hell you don’t. Nobody gets under your skin like that except one person. The look on your face just now when you were talking about the Altunai Guardian, it’s the same one you get whenever you talk about Kronastia. Victoria, is the Guardian, the one who created you, Dmitri?”
Unable to meet his gaze, she nodded. Alex drew back, feeling like he was truly seeing Victoria clearly for the first time.
“You told me once that you made the mistake of falling in love with the Guardian. All this time, you were talking about Kronastia. Do you still love him?”
Victoria stared dead ahead, unmoving. “Our relationship is … complicated.”
“But he’s Altunai. He’s one of the bad guys.”
“A fact I cannot deny.”
Alex felt his mouth go dry, the shaky pillars of his newfound faith crumbling. “But, you love him,” he repeated, as though presenting her with two facts, and insisting that only one could actually be true.
A fleeting smile passed across Victoria’s face before dissolving into darkness. She stumbled for the right word. “I know my obligation, Alex, and it is to humanity, not the whims of my own heart.”
It was as though someone had just told him that Hitler and Churchill had a habit of having tea every second Sunday. “I don’t understand how you could possibly love him, of all people.”
She turned and leaned back against the door. “I’m not human, Alex, but I’m not Altunai either. I’m stuck in between, have been for thousands of years. The Guardian … Dmitri is the only one who has the smallest measure of understanding of what that’s like. So, yes, we’ve occasionally put aside our differences long enough to take comfort in each other. I’ve always made certain it is in remote locations where the ability to use his powers that my proximity grants him harms no one. We’re both trapped, waiting for the day the thirteenth baktun ends and the gates open. Him, so he can finally forget me and go home; me, so I can finally forget him and have one.”
Victoria made to open the door again. “Alex, the ritual must begin at the prescribed time or The Order will be upset.”
“They’ll wait. Don’t think I don’t understand that all these ceremonies are bupkis. I’ve seen how much you roll your eyes during them.” He turned back to the subject at hand. “Does he love you?”
“Please, let it go. It’s ancient history. Literally.”
“Why won’t you just answer the question? If you’re still involved with him, I think I above all people in The Order have the right to know that.”
Suddenly, the door opened from within, interrupting their conversation. A shaft of soft luminescence bent out across their bodies and up the path behind them. A woman of average height, dressed in black, bowed her head in acknowledgement.
“Milady, welcome home.”
“Katherine, thank goodness.” Victoria somehow managed to wipe away all traces of emotion from both her face and her voice. “Please take Alex and get him something to eat. I understand he’s famished, and I need to prepare for the ceremony.”
Alex leaned in, grinding his teeth. “We aren’t done. We’re going to get back to this.”
He wanted to rip into her, make her explain why she’d shared so much with him that he knew damn well she hadn’t with the others, but for some reason had chosen to keep this critical tidbit to herself. Dmitri and Victoria were lovers? It threw off the colors of the picture he’d been painting in his mind for the last couple of years. Now that they were inside, however, he understood the need to keep up images. The Order revolved around helping Victoria and trusting in her leadership. At such a critical time, he couldn’t cast off their whole social structure just to get to the bottom of her broom closet.
“Come along, Alex.” Katherine pulled on the sleeve of his jacket. He relaxed, allowing himself to be led away. “We’ve just finished lunch, and there’s still a few more slices of quiche left in the kitchen.”
Chapter 15
The elderly servant, Lazarus, met Victoria at the base of the stairs, just beyond the entryway.
He acknowledged her with a dip of his head. “Your Grace.”
Taking the sack of artifacts off her shoulder, she handed the bag to him. “Please curate these and lay them out on my altar in the temple.”
Lazarus reached into the bag, pulling out a goopy fist full of fiber and a confused expression.
“Sadly, the scroll did not survive the Thames,” she informed him. “Has Priest reported in?”
With a flick of his hand, Lazarus shook off the wet pulp. “Not yet. We expect his call soon.”
She internally grumbled. Always one to demand punctuality in others while never living up to the promise himself. Victoria turned toward the stairs and started making her way up, the servant following her like an overly eager dog, despite his advanced age.
“Has my bath been drawn?”
“Thrice, Your Grace, since we first spotted your arrival. I just refreshed it ten minutes ago.”
>
“And my kalasiris?” The traditional Ancient Egyptian garb appealed to The Order’s members, so she entertained them by wearing it at ceremonies, even though the thing rode up something awful when she sat.
“On your bed.”
“My rose oil?”
“Next to the bath.”
Reaching the double doors to her room, she closed Lazarus out without further comment. Tears pricked the corner of her eyes, but she refused to let anyone see that her emotions were finally getting the best of her. She practically dove into the tub, staying under the water for a time that would have killed any full-blooded human. As soon as her body relaxed, the look of betrayal on Alex’s face played on the back of her eyelids.
She didn’t want this, didn’t want to be burdened by her humanity right now. Victoria focused, seeking to come into harmony with the forces around her. She sent her senses adrift, focusing on the feeling of weightlessness, shutting down perception of sight, sound, taste … She let go of the pain. She’d never meant to let Alex know about her and Dmitri. It was a secret she would have preferred to take to the grave. Assuming she ever made it to there, that was.
Victoria released her spirit and made her body become one with water, letting the fire within extinguish. She couldn’t put off her responsibilities for too long; she knew she owed a report to the members of the society who’d come for the ceremony. And Alex was right, she owed him the truth too. She would give it to him. Then, she’d just have to hope he stayed. If not for her sake, then for the sake of his sister.
-Ψ-
Twenty minutes later, sprawled out over her bed and staring at the ceiling, the thin gauze of her dressings sticking to her rose-oil lathered skin, she heard a knock on the door. Two maidens of The Order—virgins by tradition, though what difference that made she hadn’t the slightest—demonstrated their obeisance. Giving a hand to each as she knew they had been taught to expect, the girls led her, step by measured step, down the stairs, through the house, and into the basement, a painstakingly precise replica of an ancient temple in honor of Sekhmet.
12.21.12: The Vessel (The Altunai Annals) Page 11
