Cursed Sight

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Cursed Sight Page 2

by T. G. Ayer


  Now he suspected her coolness with him was the best and most appropriate stance to take. She’d shut him out so swiftly it had taken him a while to zero in on what could have caused her change in behavior.

  Max had his money on General Aulus.

  His superior had come all the way to Delphi to insist Max saw his mission through, to ensure Max brought the Oracle back to the States. But Aulus hadn’t bargained on Allegra.

  Whatever she’d overheard of that conversation she certainly knew enough to believe Max had used her, had betrayed her, had meant to bed her as a means to control her.

  He could still see the naked pain in her eyes when she’d told him she wanted nothing to do with him. But, despite her dismissal of him, he’d remained at her side, refusing to return with Aulus, thumbing his nose at his commanding officer’s authority.

  He’d fully expected to receive his dismissal papers, but days had passed as they’d made preparations to depart for Peru and there’d been no directive from Aulus to return to the Capital.

  Max supposed he should acknowledge such good fortune, especially considering his luck could very well run out tomorrow.

  Chapter 3

  The city of Qusqu was like nothing Allegra had ever seen.

  Giant pyramids rose into the sky, and where cities in the States were filled with Roman- and Greek-styled villas, the Incans had never adopted the vertical building structures into their architectural landscape.

  As Allegra and Max descended the stairs from the aircraft, luggage in hand, they’d been met by half a dozen uniformed policemen. Their lapel badges, and the tags on their jackets, indicated they were Peruvian law enforcement as well as airport security.

  One of the policewomen—who bore a few more stars and badges on her lapels than the rest—walked toward Max as he stepped off the last riser of the stairs. Allegra watched as the woman studied Max, giving his broad shoulders and height an appreciative glance.

  Her midnight hair and olive skin proclaimed her Qulla heritage, and when she spoke her accent was tinged with the rounded tones of the Puquina language of the region.

  She turned her attention to Allegra and met her eyes, offering her a low solemn bow. “My Lady. I am honored to meet you.” Her respect was clear in her tone and bearing, although it seemed she was the only one in the contingent who possessed the same respect for Allegra’s position.

  The officer straightened then and turned back to Max. “Commander Vissarion,” she said, saluting Max who responded in kind, giving her a curious glance. Max’s salute drew a look of relief from the woman and she nodded, “I’m Chief Inspector Athena Nostrus. I apologize for accosting you in this manner but unfortunately my hands are tied. We’re here to escort you to the NGS embassy until such time as your visa has been reissued, or you are required to leave Peru.”

  The inspector’s apology was clearly reflected in her eyes and Allegra understood CI Nostrus really was performing this particular duty against her will.

  Max frowned. “I was not aware that the Pythia required a visa,” he said scanning the small law-enforcement contingent. The airport security officer, a dour man with features pulled tight into unruly creases within his ample face, stepped forward, holding out a letter. Max eyed the document and smiled, “But the Pythia and I are happy to await the resolution of this . . . complication, at the NGS embassy.”

  The airport cop still held out the document and Allegra glanced at Max. Seemingly on the same wavelength, he reached out and took the paperwork, barely giving the man a glance before meeting Allegra’s gaze and giving her an apologetic smile.

  Allegra wasn’t often the back-seat driver type but given the circumstances she preferred Max to fight the battles, and be the bad guy if needed. When he waved her ahead, indicating she should follow CI Nostrus—who had taken a step away from the gaggle of cops toward her vehicle—Allegra complied without a backward glance at the rest of the policemen.

  Allegra gave Nostrus a pleasant smile as she reached the woman’s side, hiding her own annoyance at the wrinkle in her plans. Allegra had come to investigate the site of the destruction she’d seen in her visions. She couldn’t afford to be stonewalled at every turn. And given that they’d barely set foot off their plane and were already having trouble, she suspected their stay in Qusqu would not be made any easier.

  The inspector led them to her vehicle—a more recent model than Allegra’s beat-up old Branson A Class—and opened the door. Both Max and Allegra entered quietly, neither revealing their frustration at the turn of events.

  Traffic was light as Nostrus drove them to the New Germanic States Embassy and neither Max nor Allegra felt the need to engage in conversation. Allegra suspected Max would be reluctant to provide the Qusquan police with any further leverage than they currently presumed to have.

  Besides, it had grown difficult to identify where the loyalties of those they came into contact with lay. Their most recent encounters with both the Brittanic police and certain elements of the Indus government had set Allegra and Max on high alert. Now, even CI Nostrus—despite her humble demeanor—could pose a danger.

  Was it all due to Allegra’s standing as the Oracle of Pythia? Was she now meant to wade through political intrigue and governmental conspiracy? She’d naively assumed her role in the greater scheme of things would be one of benevolent charity, one with the aim of saving humanity. And yet she seemed to repeatedly find herself at odds with the very people she was meant to help.

  Allegra sighed and stared out of the window, keeping her hands out of her peripheral vision. For now they were clean, untainted, but Allegra could never trust when they would begin to shake, or when she would see them bloodied again.

  The central city of Qusqu was built on mostly level ground while a group of majestic pyramids observed the valley from a mountainside at the east end. They sat above the rest of the landscape, like a group of soldiers watching over the city.

  On the left of them angling away down the valley so they were not visible from the largest of the great pyramids, was a settlement. One that made Allegra’s stomach harden with trepidation.

  She swallowed and shifted her wrist on the seat so that it bumped against the edge of Max’s palm. The contact sent a sizzling heat through Allegra and she tamped it down, refusing to listen to a body that betrayed her feelings. She steeled herself against the heat flowing through her veins and lifted her hand away, pointing at the haphazardly built town cascading down the side of the mountain; the very same one from her vision.

  Max acknowledged her with a single short nod and stared at the city, lost in thought, seemingly unaffected by her touch. Oddly, Allegra found herself disappointed.

  She shifted her gaze and refocused her thoughts, her hand clasped again in her lap.

  Qusqu was ancient enough that modernization ought to have visibly taken over, but nothing in its construction made Allegra think the old systems had given way to the new.

  The city remained as it had once been constructed, the roads and pathways running almost parallel to each other, all leading up to the main pyramid; a gigantic building that towered over the entire city, casting a shadow across most of the more minor structures.

  The New Germanic States embassy building was located near enough to the giant pyramid to claim special status, yet far enough away that it was not darkened by its shadow. Allegra was not blind to the implication of how the positioning of those buildings could echo in the relationships between the local government and the NGS.

  Chief Inspector Nostrus had been quiet during the drive, and Allegra suspected the policewoman had no idea what to say that would make the situation any better.

  Silence was the best choice in such situations.

  Nostrus drew up at the steps of a small pyramid, the marquee above the gold-plated double doors proclaiming ‘New Germanic States Embassy’. She alighted and hurried to open Allegra’s door, giving a short bow as Allegra stepped onto the bottom stair. The entire building, including the steps,
was constructed from uneven stone blocks, giving the structure an earthy—yet grand—air. Part of nature, and yet apart from it; both comforting and disconcerting at the same time.

  “Ambassador McIvor is aware you are coming. I did my best to ensure things move as smoothly as possible.” She smiled, her lips forming a thin line, revealing her discomfort with the situation. Allegra felt for her. Nostrus offered another small bow. “I apologize again for the disrespect. And for the inconvenience.”

  Allegra gave her a warm smile. “I hope it is resolved soon. I have something very important to do while I’m here and I do not want to have to leave without completing my task. Too many lives are at stake.” She held the chief inspector’s gaze, trying to figure out if the woman was really on her side.

  When Nostrus gave a low nod and said, “Whatever happens I will be happy to assist you in any way.” She paused for a few moments, as if hesitant to say what was on her mind. After glancing over her shoulder, she met Allegra’s eyes again and said, “I would like to ensure that you do what you came here to do. I understand enough to know the Pythia does nothing lightly. So, the fact that you are here means there is a danger lurking and it would be ignorant of us to ignore the possibility. And reckless to do nothing about it.”

  Her unsaid words hung in the air between them: Even if it means going against my orders.

  Allegra blinked, unsure how to take the woman’s response. She took a breath and smiled. “Thank you, Chief Inspector. I will be in touch once we know what our plans are.”

  Nostrus shook her head. “Please call me Athena.”

  Allegra smiled and was saved from having to say anything further when Max drew to a stop at her side. He shook the Inspector’s—Athena’s—hand and thanked her. After an exchange of cards and numbers, Max led Allegra up the stairs to the well-guarded entrance of the embassy.

  A pair of armed NGS soldiers guarded the doorway, their uniforms the standard dark red with the golden New Germanic States’ crest pinned on the swag of purple fabric on each of their left shoulders. The wolf and the bear, both with bared teeth were intertwined in their eternal battle, the symbol a reminder of a bloody past.

  Allegra studied the building as she ascended the stairs. A terrace ran along the entire front of the pyramid at the ground floor level, and seemed to hug the side of the building then turn around the corners at both ends where two more guards now stood, both deathly still.

  As they walked to the entrance, both doors swung open. A slim, tall woman stood to the side, her large blue eyes scanning first Allegra and then Max from head to foot. Something flickered in her expression when she lifted her gaze to Max’s face, but it was gone so fast Allegra wondered if she’d imagined it.

  The aide beckoned them to follow her, long black hair swaying at her waist as she led the way. She wore an ankle-length white dress, patterned at the hem and wide sleeves; tribal from the looks of the brightly-colored geometric designs.

  Allegra noted the aide had failed to introduce herself and wondered as to the lack of hospitality her rudeness may imply.

  Still, Max said nothing so Allegra didn’t either.

  The aide led them across a wide hall where square stone columns dotted the large, almost cavernous space. Doors along the hall on the left and right led to offices and storage rooms, with staff coming and going, the buzz of the busy embassy putting Allegra a little at ease. Without the sound of people, the ancient building would have made her feel far too claustrophobic, as if she were walking the halls of a living tomb.

  Allegra took a breath and mentally crossed her fingers. She shouldn’t think about tombs and death.

  That would be courting trouble.

  Chapter 4

  A hundred feet into the great stonewalled hall they came to an elevator, the sight of the metal cage sending a chill through Allegra’s bones. After a cacophony of clanking and whirring, the cage descended to the ground floor, the wrought-iron gates complaining loudly as they grated open.

  The aide waved them inside, barely looking up to meet their eyes. Max and Allegra entered in silence, and Allegra watched as the woman looked back at him again, her lips parting as if she wanted to say something to him. In the end her mouth formed a thin line and she turned to stare at the floor numbers painted on the inside of the elevator wall.

  They rode up seventeen floors in the central lift, the gears grunting and groaning, as they worked to raise and lower a bank of three metal cages.

  Within the elevator, they were surrounded first by the iron cage, and then by the stone-lined shaft which gave off a dank cold, making Allegra shiver. She imagined it was not the temperature that sent the chills up and down her spine, but rather the blood once spilled within these walls. She remembered the history of the Aztecs and their violent need for the shedding of blood in order to appease their gods.

  The tribes had flourished, growing strong over the years then fading away as they’d been defeated; Incans, Aztecs, Qulla and even further in history.

  As they reached the ambassador’s floor, Allegra blinked against the light blazing into the top of the elevator cage, then raised a hand to shield her eyes against the bright sunshine. The contrast between the dark, cold shaft within the building, and the warmth of the sunshine set Allegra a little off-kilter.

  Or it could just be jet lag.

  Allegra inhaled deeply and tried to force herself to remain steady. They were high up, likely close to—if not at—the top level of the pyramid. This floor was small compared to the ground level; likely only half the size. Which made sense considering the square-based pyramid’s varying levels.

  The elevator gates opened onto a small waiting area occupying the space directly in front of the doors. Beyond the reception area, the corridor narrowed down to the left and the right, culminating on each side in passages dominated by large windows spilling golden sunlight onto the stone floors and flooding the halls with golden light.

  The building was an ancient architectural wonder.

  The long bank of three elevators, with its additional housing for the pulleys and mechanical innards, divided the floor into two large offices, one of which belonged to the ambassador who had exited and was, at that moment, walking toward them.

  He was a nondescript man, medium height and build, dark brown hair that Xenia would call mousy, and a thin mustache that seemed to hover above his mouth like a dark cloud.

  His only defining feature was a pair of stunning blue eyes Allegra swore were the exact color of the azure seas of the Greek Isles.

  McIvor’s smile was a thin line as he met them beside the reception desk. He gave their guide a dismissive nod, and the woman simply rounded the desk and seated herself.

  So not a mere aide, but Secretary to the Ambassador.

  The woman sat, throwing her long hair back over her shoulder as she pulled open a drawer and appeared to become extremely busy.

  The ambassador greeted Allegra first, bowing low from his hips. “My Lady. I am honored to meet you.”

  Allegra murmured a mutual delight at the meeting and then stepped away allowing Max to speak. She wasn’t usually deferential—not that her reluctance to hold conversation could be defined as deferential—but her mood made it dangerous for her to go one-on-one with the man. She might end up saying something she shouldn’t. Especially considering she wasn’t at her diplomatic best having just come off a twenty-eight-hour flight.

  “Ambassador McIvor, I’m hoping you can help us,” Max murmured as he shook the man’s hand.

  McIvor nodded, and held out a hand to indicate his open office door. Then he glanced at Allegra. She shook her head. The last thing she wanted was to listen to Max arguing their case. The fact that he even had to pissed her off.

  McIvor looked over at his secretary who seemed to feel his gaze on her bent head. She glanced up at him as he said, “Would you please show the Pythia to her rooms?”

  Standing, the woman gave a neutral smile, grabbed something from her desk drawer and nodded b
efore rounding the table and heading to the elevators again. Allegra assumed she was required to follow the woman. As Allegra moved she noticed the look of disapproval McIvor gave his secretary, but Allegra pretended ignorance and hurried to the elevators.

  The woman—who had yet to introduce herself—stood stiff-backed in utter silence as the car took them down two floors. Her heels clacked on the stone floor as she stalked out of the elevator doors to the first room on her left and deposited Allegra at the entrance.

  Holding out a brass key, she said, “Have a pleasant stay.” Her voice was toneless, wooden, and Allegra wondered if she was going to present more of a problem than just a bad attitude.

  Allegra smiled and reached for the key. Though she made every effort to avoid touching McIvor’s secretary, Allegra’s fingers brushed the other woman’s as the key passed hands.

  Allegra blinked.

  The hallway shifted, then faded away to be replaced by a small, stuffy room. At first, Allegra assumed it was a studio apartment, with kitchen, living and sleeping areas all combined into one space, but it didn’t take long to recognize the squalid, almost dilapidated nature of the room.

  A bare mattress sat against the left wall, but Allegra’s gaze was repelled from it, as if something was stopping her from seeing it. She focused instead beyond the bed on a short garment rail—a makeshift closet within the shack.

  Water dripped from rusted spots in the metal roof, sliding in from a few gaps where two pieces of aluminum sheeting had been overlapped. Water gathered on the narrow metal lip, and had rusted up to a handspan of the metal, but the owner of the room had—instead of fixing the cause—focused only on dealing with the resulting problem.

  Receptacles—a purple plastic and broken-rimmed bucket, a large metal mixing bowl, a cardboard box lined with thick wrapping plastic, a stew pot and a glass water jug—littered the floor. The sound of the droplets hitting plastic in flat thuds and then alternating with high-pitched metallic clangs, filled the room with its discordant music.

 

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