“Mine too.” Ash reached for the melded piece, but M slid it into her backpack. She had no intention of letting him touch any of the pieces until the Eye had rescued her father.
“I don’t think the other piece was trying to punch its way out of the suitcase when we were in the temple, though.” M zipped the pack and put it back on. “Not with those sounds it made. I would have heard them.”
“Everybody would have heard them,” Ash agreed.
“Maybe it was only when they got close enough to the other pieces?” she said doubtfully. She couldn’t shake the image of them holding their briefcase down. Of Liza coming after her, threatening Dad. Pieces of him, that’s what she’d said. M rubbed her forehead, trying to push the memory away.
Ash put his arm around her, drawing her close. “It’s a bluff. They won’t hurt him. They need him to translate…” His voice trailed off.
“He can still translate even if he’s missing pieces,” she mumbled into his shirt.
“M…”
“Don’t worry. I can compartmentalize.” She pulled away and took a deep breath, letting the fear fill her whole body. Then she blew it out, breath and fear together. She didn’t have time to be afraid. She had to save her father. Wallowing doesn’t get work done.
“Let’s go find those pieces for the Eye,” she said, waving her cell. “We’ve got our ride.”
* * *
M closed her eyes and forced away the image of Liza’s face. She had to focus on finding the Set pieces. It was her only option—get the pieces, use them to make the Eye go after her guardians and their cult. The Eye had resources—Ash never seemed to run out of money. They’d be able to save Dad. She just had to get the remaining pieces in time.
“Are you enjoying the latte? Did the coconut milk make it extra creamy the way our flight attendant promised?” Ash’s voice drifted into her thoughts. He was trying to distract her, make her think about anything other than Dad.
She stretched out her legs as far as possible, just because she was on a plane where she could, then opened her eyes and looked at Ash. His hair was slicked back from his shower—private jets were the way to travel—and she had a crazy impulse to reach over and mess it up. Instead she took a long sip of her latte.
“We still never figured out why Bob and Liza were at the temple,” she said, happy her voice didn’t shake with the rage she felt. “My father had already sent the Set followers there. So why were they back?”
“Possibly they thought you were following the map and they were looking for you,” Ash said slowly.
“But why look only at the temple?”
“Maybe it wasn’t only the temple. Maybe they sent people to all the places your father already identified,” Ash suggested.
M frowned. “That doesn’t really make sense, though. They don’t know I have the original of the map, right?”
“Right. Your father told only me.” There wasn’t even a hint of hesitation in his answer. “Maybe they think you already knew something about the map.” He shook his head. “But I doubt they’d have thought you could get to Egypt or India on your own. Your guardians probably didn’t give you access to a lot of money.”
“I got an allowance. Seriously, an allowance. I was supposed to get my inheritance from my dad when I turned eighteen. Liza was supposed to take me to the estate lawyer, but she said the meeting got pushed back. Probably never was a meeting. Money would give me freedom, and she wouldn’t want that,” M said. “And it’s not like I have friends I could borrow cash from, at least not enough to get me to Kerala.”
“Well, now that they’ve seen you with me, they know you have access to all the money you need.”
“Why?” M asked sharply. Ash had worked for the Set cult as a field tech/gofer. There was no reason for them to think he had a lot of money at his disposal. She felt a prickle of unease. There always seemed to be pieces of his story that didn’t quite add up.
“Why?” He looked confused for a second. “I was thinking when they saw us together they would presume I was with the Eye.”
“Why?” M asked again.
Ash took a sip of his coffee before he answered. The jet had a huge selection of beverages, including the beer he’d claimed to be dying for, but he’d gone for coffee. Black.
“We know who most of the higher up people in the Set cult are. I’m sure they’ve found out who some of our leaders are. I doubt they know more than that about members of the Eye,” Ash answered. “But they know I left my job right before you disappeared. Then they saw me with you at one of the map sites. It’s logical for them to assume I am with the Eye.”
His explanation seemed reasonable. “Were you scared going in that they’d realize what you were? When you … went undercover, I guess. What would they have done if they’d figured you out?”
Ash shrugged. “I tried not to think about it. Philip felt it wasn’t a much of a risk.”
M snorted. “It wasn’t Philip walking in there.” She finished her latte and rattled the ice around the glass. “Will they be waiting for us in London? That’s the big question.”
Ash’s hazel eyes flicked back and forth as he thought. “The only way they’d turn up in London is if they’d found out about the signposts, if they’d found one in Kerala, and if they got your father to translate it fast enough. That’s a lot of ifs. I think we have to assume they were in the temple on the very slim chance you’d show. They’re getting desperate.”
“They have my father, so why would they even care about getting me? I’m sure they tell him I’m under constant guard. I’m the same leverage I ever was.” It still made her nauseous to think of Dad helping those people because of her.
“Unlike your father, you’re free to search for the pieces,” Ash said. “They must have thought there was a possibility you knew enough about the map to go to the temple.”
“And now they know I have at least one of the pieces. Great,” M said. “On that happy note, let’s move on. We need to figure out the glyphs.”
Ash slid closer, his fresh-from-the-shower scent prickling her nose. She inhaled deeply. “Let’s see what you’ve got,” he said.
M pulled up the best picture she’d gotten of the glyphs in the gopura, holding it so they could both look at it. “There were phonograms for Gog and Magog. I figured those out right away. But I have no ideas on the rest.”
“Gog and Magog?” Ash asked, his expression a blank.
“I keep forgetting you know everything about ancient Egypt, and almost nothing about anything else.” M smirked. “Except an assortment of drugs, if Baptiste is to be believed.”
“And a few other things.” He smiled at her then, in a way that—to her annoyance—made her face flush.
“In medieval legends, Gog and Magog are giants defeated by Brutus, a Trojan war hero. He made them guard his great hall, where Guildhall is now,” M explained, keeping her eyes off Ash and glued to her phone. “Here’s what we need to figure out. See these glyphs forming the big circle? They’re a phonogram for Henry and then the number two. There’s a glyph for temple in the middle of the circle. This one.” She pointed. “And one for money.” She tapped another glyph. “But I have no idea what the other one means.”
“I do,” Ash announced. “It’s a symbol for the Knights Templar.”
“No.” She studied the glyph. “It’s a lot more intricate than the Templar cross. It’s similar, but…”
“Trust me,” Ash said. “You know more history than I—more than most normal people—do. But when it comes to Horus, I know everything there is to know. There are ancient Egyptian artifacts that were discovered by the Knights Templar when they were exploring the ruins of the Temple of Solomon. I’ve studied those artifacts. I know this cross.”
M felt a buzz of excitement. “Are there any connections between the knights and money? Obviously there are a lot of connections with temples and churches.”
“Actually, yes. You may not know this, but the Knights Templar were the
first bankers. They—”
“Of course!” M exclaimed, shaking her head. “I need another latte. My brain isn’t fully functional.” The flight attendant disappeared into the galley. “They had all that money from looting—”
“You’re forgetting gifts from the faithful,” Ash interrupted.
M waved him off. “They had tons of land, too, and eventually they had banks all over the world.”
“With excellent security, because they had members of the knights to guard them. Even royalty used the Templar banks,” Ash said.
“So we’re looking for a bank with a connection to the Knights Templar in London. And somehow there is a connection to Henry and the number two—probably Henry II, don’t you think?”
Ash nodded. “Google it up.”
M quickly typed in all the keywords. “Henry gave a pension to his daughter that was payable at the Templar bank.” She read a little more. “But it was in France.”
“Try that one.” Ash pointed to a link and M clicked. “Wrong Henry,” she said. “This is about Henry III. He paid the Templars in London eight pounds a year to have some masses said. Which was a lot of money then. I think he made a bad deal there.”
She chewed on her lip, thinking. “It’s a glyph for money. That doesn’t have to mean bank. The Templars ran banks, but maybe it’s about some other financial situation they were in. Didn’t they take a vow of poverty?”
“Yes,” Ash said.
She shot him a smile. “I guess your order didn’t think that was necessary, huh?”
“The Eye has been in existence for thousands of years, and must be for thousands more. Forever, really. We must be able to afford it,” he told her.
The flight attendant plunked down another latte. “I’m going to search connections between the knights and Henry II,” M decided, taking a grateful sip. “You keep looking for banks.”
By the time she took her last swallow, she’d found a fairly good lead. “It’s not exactly money, but Henry II gave the Templars land.”
“Land is money,” Ash said. “Real estate is how the Eye makes most of our money.”
“Okay, then. The Knights Templar used that land to build a church on the River Fleet.”
It didn’t take long from there. The church on the river later moved and became the Temple Church, headquarters of the Templars in London. Henry II was at the consecration and said he wanted to be buried there, though he later changed his mind.
“So we’re off to the Temple Church, then?” Ash said. “Good. We should get some sleep.”
M stood and stretched. “Sleep. Yes.”
Ash started for the back of the plane. There was a bedroom there with a queen-sized bed. M hesitated. They’d mostly slept in the same bed lately, when they had a chance to rest, but something about it felt different now.
She dropped back down on the long sofa, stretched out, and gave an exaggerated yawn. “You go. I’m too tired to move. I’m going to sleep right here.”
Ash gazed down at her, catching her eyes for a long moment, then turned away. “Okay, cheers. Goodnight—or whatever time of day it is now.”
M exhaled.
* * *
She stared at one of the effigies in the silent circular nave of the Temple Church. The sightless eyes of the stone knight stared back. M had always wished irises and pupils had been carved on this type of effigy. It was supposed to look like the man was sleeping, but to her it always looked like the eyes were open and blind. Mike said she had no imagination, but then, Mike loved everything about the history of the Catholic Church.
M pulled herself over the iron railing and knelt next to the figure. She ran her hands firmly over the cool stone, hoping to find some kind of trigger that would slide the top off the tomb or allow the knight’s shield to be raised, anything that might reveal a hiding place for a piece of the Set animal.
If only the piece would behave like the ones before, rushing to join the others. It might destroy a priceless holy artifact, but it would be easy. But as soon as she’d stepped into the church—Ash had picked the lock—the pieces in her backpack had fallen apart again. They weren’t attracting each other, so it was doubtful they’d be attracting another piece.
After she’d gone over the effigy a second time, she moved on to another of the stone knights. This one was a little different, its palms pressed together in prayer. She was just as careful as she slid her hands over the ridges of the carved chain mail, the lines of the tunic, the hands, the lips, even the creepy sightless eyes, but she didn’t find a way to open or activate the effigy.
“Can you ask Horus for another bird helper?” she called to Ash, her voice echoing in the empty church. He was examining a knight nearby. They’d been at the church for hours before moving on to the knights and had found nothing. And before, when it was light out, they’d walked the grounds, taking in the outside of the building from all angles.
“You said the bird was just a bird,” Ash reminded her.
“And you said it was a divine messenger of Horus sent to aid us in our sacred quest,” M shot back sarcastically.
“Now, I know I didn’t say it like that,” Ash replied. “But prayer isn’t a bad idea.” He lowered his head, still as one of the knights. It felt wrong to watch him, but she couldn’t stop herself. She didn’t find praying strange. But Ash was praying to a god M had read about in mythology books, as if he truly expected to receive help.
What about the bird, though? It could have been help. But it could have a completely logical explanation as well. And the mistletoe could be coincidence. And maybe, just maybe, there was a rational explanation for the way the Set pieces melded and fell apart. Although it was hard to believe science could explain the force of the piece slamming inside Bob’s briefcase.
But there was no ordinary explanation for what Ash had done to the crocodiles. It was beyond her understanding. Maybe it was psychic ability. Or, she had to admit, maybe it was the power of Horus.
M quickly glanced away as Ash lifted his head. She moved on to the next knight. After more than an hour, she finished her side of the room. She stood and stretched. Where to search next? Ash had moved on to one of the columns, so she decided to check the gargoyles that ringed the inside of the round nave.
These gargoyles were much easier to see than ones usually found in buildings because they were lower to the ground, only about fifteen feet up. There were so many of them—some cheerful and laughing, some shocked, others horrified. One grimaced in pain as a monkey bit his ear; another pulled his own lips wide like a kid trying to gross out a friend; another crossed his eyes—whether the act was a joke or an affliction, M wasn’t sure.
By the time she’d circled the room, her eyes were burning from staring at the stone faces so intently. She rubbed at them, stars clouding her vision. On her way to join Ash, she passed under the vaulted arches, to the font. She meticulously examined the carvings on the limestone base. Two panels showed a knight slaying a dragon, the next some kind of large cat, and the last an eagle.
Dragon slaying wasn’t a typical subject for a carving on a baptismal font, but it didn’t seem to have anything to do with Horus. Same with the cat. But eagles were a standard font carving. There was an old story about an eagle that singed its wings on the sun, then dipped them three times into a fountain of pure water, returning to its youth. It could be considered a reference to Horus’s father, Osiris, who was a resurrection god. She studied every feather, but found nothing.
“Anything?” she asked Ash. The quiet was getting to her, and she wanted to hear a voice, even if it was her own.
Ash turned toward her, resting one hand on the column he’d been investigating. “No. But it’s a big church.”
M frowned. “That’s the problem. This place is huge.” She pulled a couple of bottles of water out of her backpack and tossed one to him.
“Pieces still apart?” Ash asked.
“Yeah.” They’d split apart as soon as M entered the church—she’d learne
d to recognize the feeling, a snap instead of the usual slow throbbing. M opened her water and took a swig. “Onward.”
“Onward,” he repeated, shooting her a tired smile.
M felt a rush of gratitude that he was with her. Doing this alone would be hard. But it wasn’t just the backup Ash provided. It was the feeling that they were a team, in this together. She knew she needed to keep on her guard with him, be wary, but a part of her didn’t really believe that anymore.
They searched until the reds, yellows, and blues in the stained-glass windows began to glow. It was dawn. “Maybe something is hidden in one of the windows,” Ash suggested.
“The originals didn’t survive the air raid,” M reminded him. Some of the church had been damaged during World War II. They couldn’t be sure everything they were searching was even around when the Set piece was hidden.
“You checked all the niches behind the altar?” Ash asked.
M nodded. “Those are definitely from the medieval part of the church. The piscina, too.”
“Piscina?”
“Where they washed the chalice, and where the priest washed his hands before sanctifying the communion offerings.”
“Oh.”
M watched him, a new thought taking shape in her mind. “Do Horus worshippers have communion? Not communion, obviously, but rituals like that? Or is the Eye about protecting the pieces of Set and nothing else?”
He hesitated.
“Sorry, is that knowledge for worshippers only?” she asked.
“No, I’m just not used to people asking about my religion,” Ash said. “We have a few rituals, I suppose. The main one is every year we celebrate the resurrection of Osiris by eating bread baked into his shape.”
“I’ve seen tomb paintings in Egypt with Osiris’s body sprouting grain and his spirit floating above it. There are a ton of paintings depicting bread left as offerings in tombs,” M said. “It’s funny, isn’t it? How bread shows up in so many different religions. When we were in Kerala, in the temple, there were offerings of food. Do you know what ‘prasada’ is?”
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