Where the Library Hides (Secrets of the Nile #2)

Capítulo Diecinueve

CAPíTULO DIECINUEVE

We got straight to work upon reaching our hotel room. I resized all the items we’d taken from my mother’s home back into their regular proportions, and together with my sister, we laid everything out on the bed.

We made quite the team.

I rolled up my sleeves and gave everything a cursory glance. I refused to believe that there wasn’t something in this room that could help us find my mother. It was only a matter of studying each sheet carefully.

Or so I kept telling myself.

It occurred to me that we could potentially return to Mamá’s house and wait for her—but I recalled the way she had been warned away from the bank. Someone was watching our movements and my guess was it was her lover, or at the very least, he’d employed a thug to observe us. Best not to go back—unless we had no other options.

I sank onto a stretch of space on the bed that wasn’t covered by one of my mother’s things as Isadora scooted a stool closer to me. A knock sounded on the door and my eyes flew to hers in surprise.

Isadora jumped up, reaching for the gun she’d taken from the night of the auction. She’d hidden it under a pillow on her side of the bed.

“Who is it?” she asked.

“It’s me.”

My sister unlocked the door and swung it open, revealing a very dusty and disheveled Whit. He carried an enormous tray with him on one hand, laden with covered dishes, and a box filled with stacks of paper with the other.

“Is that…?”

“Yes.”

Somehow, he’d found more of my mother’s things. “How did you—”

“I’ll explain in a moment,” he grunted.

“I suppose you wouldn’t like me to shoot him?” Isadora asked in a wistful tone, stepping aside to let him through.

I stood, my nose picking up the scent of bread and lemon, fresh herbs. My mouth watered. “Not today.”

Whit scowled at Isadora as he walked past her. “No falafels for you.”

Isadora perked up. “Where did you find falafels at this time of night?”

“The kitchen in the hotel is well stocked,” he said. “I found hummus, tomatoes and cucumbers, bread, and a pitcher of lemonade. I also stopped by the front desk and checked for any messages and discovered a telegram for you, Olivera.”

“A telegram!” I exclaimed and held out my hand for it.

But he ignored me as he looked around for somewhere to set the tray, saw that every available surface was occupied, and then, shrugging, he dropped to his knees, gently placing the food and my mother’s things onto the carpeted floor. I settled next to him with an inelegant thud, while Isadora daintily picked up her skirt and gracefully sat, her knees bent, ankles crossed. She tugged the box toward her, curiously peering inside.

Finally, Whit dug into his pockets and handed me the sealed envelope. Eagerly, I opened it and read the first line. When I saw that it was addressed to the three of us, I switched to reading it out loud.

INEZ the paper didn’t even get wet,” she said. “Cleopatra had made the Chrysopoeia waterproof .”

Dozens of feluccas, schooners, and brigantines bobbed in the harbor, their masts and sails rising high and reflecting the silver glow of the moon. We were the only idiots enjoying the view in the middle of the night, exhausted and nervous. Well, I was exhausted and nervous. Inez had that gleam in her eye that struck terror in my soul. It somehow communicated that she’d pursue her goal, no matter the cost to her life. Come what may, she would see it through to the end.

“Have you paid the driver?” Isadora asked in her cool voice.

I barely heard her. Inez tapped her foot, gazing impatiently across the water, as if she wanted to conjure her mother into existence, standing at the base of the lighthouse. The sea air teased her long hair, whipping it across her face. She didn’t seem to notice, every part of her focused on getting to that island. We had gone through Turkish Town, and though we could have continued by land, I thought it best to go the rest of the way by boat; it was harder to follow after us. Isadora had been helpful with navigating the tight turns through the city and had provided several shortcuts on the way to the coast.

I turned to look at her, and she raised her brows expectantly.

“The driver?” Isadora prompted.

“How did you know the quickest way through Turkish Town?” I kept my tone nonchalant, but my mind repeated Inez’s earlier words when we argued in front of the bank. If Isadora knew the city as well as it certainly looked like, then she could have easily beaten us back to the hotel after warning Lourdes.

She stared at me, hand on her hip, all the appearance of outrage. “People talk to me.”

“And?”

“And I’ve made a few acquaintances at the hotel,” she said. “I’m good at collecting information.”

“If that’s all it is, then why are you angry?”

She took a step toward me, jabbed her index finger in my chest. “Because every time you speak with me, every time you ask me a question, it always sounds like an accusation.” She inhaled deeply, nostrils flaring. “And it’s annoying .”

“I won’t apologize for it.”

“Of course not,” she said, rolling her eyes. “But do you want to know what I think?”

I waited, hoping my silence would goad her. People talked more when they were upset, or under suspicion.

“I think you see qualities in me that you yourself possess.” Her voice dropped to a pointed whisper. “And you hate it. I’d bet everything that I own, all my money, that you can’t stand parts of yourself. The eternal distrust, the cynicism, a mind always calculating how to utilize people for your own benefit.”

“I don’t—”

“You do,” she said firmly. “It’s what makes you good at your job. We’re survivors. By definition, we’ve done things to avoid hurt, to stay alive, one step ahead of everyone else. We get our way by any means possible.”

Every word grated. Because she was right.

“And when we care about someone, we become protective,” Isadora said in the same hushed whisper. “We will move heaven and earth to help them, to save them from themselves. Because there are only a few people in this world whom we love, and we’d damn anyone to hell who would dare to hurt them.”

She flicked her gaze to Inez, but I didn’t follow it. I kept my eyes on her.

“I can see who you are as easily as I see myself,” she said. “Now. Back to the matter at hand. Have you taken care of the driver?”

I looked away from her, wishing I didn’t agree with her. It was easier to think of her as an enemy. Easier than recognizing all the ways we were similar, and how that didn’t stop Inez from trusting her. Because then I’d have to sit with how Inez could no longer stand the sight of me.

A headache bloomed from the sudden emotion that settled over me. Anger, frustration. Grief, too, if I would let myself really feel it. I had no one to blame but myself.

I rubbed my temples, never wanting a cup of coffee more. Our carriage driver waited, yawning hugely, the horses grunting softly. Even they protested the early hour. I gave the lad a handful of francs. “Would you mind waiting for us?”

He looked around, frowning. “Here?”

“Yes,” I said, pointing behind me to the island of Pharos. “We want to see the lighthouse.”

The driver nodded, though he still seemed perplexed. “At this hour?”

“I don’t make the plans,” I muttered, giving him more coins.

“You ought to send him away,” Isadora said. “It’s rude to keep him waiting.”

I ignored her and addressed the lad. “We’ll be right back. Don’t leave us.”

We had maybe an hour, two at the most, before the sun showed her face. If we weren’t long gone before then, I would scream bloody murder at Isadora, damn the consequences. I stared across the Mediterranean, the sea disquieted and uneasy, as if knowing she was about to be disturbed. Along the water’s edge were a slew of rickety boats, tied off at a narrow dock that went out ten or fifteen feet. Beyond, the outline of Pharos Island rose high above the surface, the waves slapping against every sharp edge. The base of Alexandria’s lighthouse still stood on the eastern side, even after millennia, an impressive sight despite the loss of the upper structure that had once guided ships by a flame in the night.

“How tall was it?” Inez asked as we walked away from the driver, her attention ensnared by the ancient wonder.

“Mamá’s notes said it would have stood at least forty stories high.” Isadora shook her head, marveling. “Imagine the building of it! The sweat and toil of every worker.”

“Only for an earthquake to send most of it into the sea below,” I said dourly. “Nothing beautiful lasts.”

“Your cynicism is showing again,” Inez murmured.

“I wasn’t trying to hide it,” I muttered back. Then in a louder voice, I said, “All right, we’ve seen the lighthouse. Let’s go back to the hotel and have tea, coffee, and a decent meal.”

A part of me couldn’t believe what I was saying. If Lourdes truly believed Cleopatra’s Chrysopoeia was hidden in the base of the lighthouse, I ought to explore every inch. But my gut clenched tight, anticipation making my blood thrum in my veins, clamoring for attention. My body was on high alert—enemy-beyond-the-hill high alert.

Something was wrong.

Or about to be wrong.

If I learned anything from my time in the militia, it was to trust my gut. And right then, it was telling me to take Inez far from this place. To ready my rifle and keep a finger on the trigger. I itched for the knife I always carried in my boot, but that deplorable bastard Sterling had stolen it from me.

“We just got here,” Inez said. “I’m not turning back now. Mamá might be inside, or if she’s not here, she might have left a clue behind. I think we ought to go and explore. Unless you have a better idea on how to find her?”

I folded my arms, tension making my jaw lock. “It’s safer to go by water the rest of the way. But it would mean stealing a rowboat.”

“It’s not that far,” Isadora said, scrunching her pointed nose. “A pity we didn’t bring a change of clothes. We might get wet.”

I didn’t bother replying to that nonsense.

Inez pointed to the row of fishing boats. “Let’s borrow one of those. No stealing required. We’ll return it once we’re finished, and I can leave some coins inside, too.”

Isadora was already walking to the dock in quick, determined strides, her manner confident and sure, an illusion for the chaos rioting underneath. She reminded me of a Greek tragedy, every character marching toward their doom, wreaking havoc and sowing discord as they went, a deranged pixie sprinkling their destructive energy around onto unsuspecting innocents.

“I still don’t trust her,” I said with narrowed eyes at said deranged pixie.

“You have made that more than clear,” Inez said tiredly. Deep shadows under her eyes belied her exhaustion. When had she had a full night of sleep? When had I? I couldn’t remember. “But she’s done nothing but help me,” she said. “You’re welcome to stay behind.”

“The hell I will,” I said. “And don’t think I didn’t notice how you used my words against me.”

“I was counting on it,” she said sweetly.

I trailed after her, trying to ignore her hips swaying as she walked, the way her curls danced in the briny air. Isadora had untied the rope of one of the boats by the time we joined her on the dock. I took over the task, relieved to see oars poking out from under the bench. I helped Inez into the boat, considered pushing Isadora into the sea but instead ignored her as she gracefully stepped aboard. She remained upright, knees bent in sync with the water’s sway.

“Will you do the honors, or are you going to have me row us over to the island?” Isadora asked, the ice in her voice pronounced.

“I can help,” Inez protested.

I took the oars and dipped them into the water. This was such a bad idea. I never should have gone along with it. It would have been better if I had come on my own. “Let’s just bloody get this over with.”

Inez rummaged through her bag of supplies and handed Isadora a candle and then found an extra for herself. She lit both and they held the lights high, using their free hands to cup the flames and keep them from flickering out from the breeze. Inez couldn’t quite manage it, and the fire went out when the wind blew across the boat.

She sighed. “I miss the sandal.”

I laughed.

Inez glanced at me, startled, her hazel eyes warm and amused. She hadn’t looked at me like that in what felt like years. She quickly averted her gaze, and I yanked my attention off her and toward the lighthouse where it belonged.

We approached the island, and I noted the small bay, taking care to maneuver the boat in that direction. When we were close enough, I jumped out, the water cool against my skin, and guided the boat up the bank. Inez scrambled over the rail, refusing my help, slipping and windmilling her arms to keep from falling face-first into the water. Isadora nimbly leapt over, landing neatly with a minimal splash, and helped Inez up the shore. I put the oars away, and we trekked the steep incline up to the base of the lighthouse.

The craggy rocks pierced my shoes, and for the last stretch, I had to help both of them navigate the path. The ancient building came into view as the dark sky lightened into a navy blue. It was my favorite time of day, the moment right before dawn broke.

“It’s enormous,” Inez whispered.

“The tallest structure in the ancient world,” I said. “At the very top, there used to be a massive mirror that reflected light and could be seen thirty-five miles away.”

“You can still see the inscription on this side,” Isadora said, pointing to the etching on the light stone. “An offering to the twin guardians of the sea.”

“Who were they?” Inez asked.

“Castor and Pollux,” Isadora and I said in unison.

We looked at each other in horrified surprise. Inez merely smiled and strode toward the front entrance, her chin lifted, her curly hair trailing down to the middle of her back. “There’s the doorway,” she said. “Wide enough for two horsemen to ride through side by side.”

We walked inside and were met by a crumbling staircase and a large square-shaped area that must have housed chariots and horses at one point. Overhead, parts of the ceiling had fallen. Boulders littered the space, some taller than me. While the lighthouse seemed empty, there were many shadowy corners in which to hide.

Inez glanced around warily, her gaze landing on Isadora. “Did you remember to bring your gun?”

Isadora patted her jacket pocket. “Oh, I must have forgotten my spare when we went to the hotel for supplies.”

I studied our surroundings, my gut clenching. I had brought my rifle, which I’d packed inside my trunk, unassembled. It was my least favorite gun—bulky, loud, and a nuisance to load. But something was better than nothing.

It wouldn’t do to meet our enemies unarmed.

“Look over here,” Inez called out.

I walked to where she stood, peering at a mostly intact wall. An enormous relief was carved into the stone, depicting a Greek god in billowing robes. He wore a crown, and in his left hand, he carried a scepter. At his feet rested a three-headed dog, its teeth bared fiercely.

“Cerberus again,” Inez murmured.

“The hound of Hades,” I said. “A curious creature to carve onto the wall of the lighthouse. It guarded the entrance to the underworld and had nothing to do with the sea.”

Inez was barely listening to me. She had crept closer, her finger lightly tracing the carving, inspecting the lettering at the base of the relief. “There is some writing in Latin. Can you read it?”

“Very little,” I said, but I came closer, peering over her shoulder. I tried to ignore the sweet scent of her hair, the brush of her long skirt against the toes of my boots. This was the closest I’d stood next to her since we married. Which had nothing to do with anything. I cleared my throat and focused on translating. “I believe the name of this god is Serapis.”

She glanced at me from over the curve of her shoulder. “I don’t know who he is.”

“Abdullah would,” I muttered. “I think he’s a Greco-Egyptian god.” My eye caught another faint line of text. “Wait a moment—there’s something else written below his name.” Gently, I moved her aside so I could better read the scant lines of text etched into the wall. “He’s the patron of Alexandria, and there’s a temple dedicated to him in the city.”

“Where?” Inez asked sharply. “Because I think I’ve seen…”

A dreamy expression stole over her face, as if she’d stepped into another world. I waved my hand across her eyes. She stared vacantly back at me, not quite alert but still lost somehow. “Inez? Inez .”

I reached out to shake her shoulders but stilled when I recalled her curious connection to Cleopatra via the golden ring on her finger. She might be viewing one of her memories.

“What’s the matter with her?” Isadora asked sharply from somewhere behind me. I barely heard her. My whole focus was on my wife.

“Inez?” I asked again, louder this time.

She blinked, coming back to herself in a matter of seconds. She squeezed her eyes shut and then slowly opened them, meeting my gaze levelly. “Can you see a tower from here?”

“What?” I asked.

“Across the harbor,” she said. “Is there a tower? It looks Roman by design.”

I turned, squinting through the rubble. There was a section that allowed someone to see across the water and back to the coastline we’d rowed from earlier. “Yes, I think. Why?”

“I was in a memory,” she breathed. “Cleopatra was traveling by boat and wearing the same exact robe from last time. I think these two memories are connected. In the first one, she had the roll of parchment on her, and just now I saw her in a little rowboat, only one guard with her. He was working the oars, but they weren’t on the Nile River, or even out at sea. They were underground .”

“What do you mean? Underground how?”

Inez gripped my arm, excitement lit across her face. She was trembling from it. “I mean it looked like there was a network of canals beneath the city of Alexandria, and Cleopatra knew about them and where they led to.” Inez tightened her grasp. “I saw her reaching a tunnel that had a curved staircase, and after getting out of the boat, she used it to climb up a tower. It overlooked the harbor. And I saw it—”

“Saw what?”

“The lighthouse, her palace. Everything.” Inez frowned. “But she wasn’t carrying the roll of parchment anymore. I don’t understand—she wouldn’t have left it in the boat. It’s too valuable.”

I tried to picture what Inez would have seen. All of these visions were connected. The first had been a frantic search for the alchemical sheet, the second had been Cleopatra, a Spellcaster, creating magic to perhaps protect the Chrysopoeia. At this point, Cleopatra’s goal was to hide such a treasure from her scheming brother. She needed help, and history told us that eventually, she went to Julius Caesar—who had stationed himself at the royal palace.

“She was going back to her home,” I said.

“Yes, that must be it exactly,” Inez replied, grinning. “With her brother hoping to invade the city, Cleopatra would have had to move about secretly. What better way than the underground passageways?”

Instinctively, I understood that she wouldn’t have given a Roman general something so valuable to her. No, she would have found a way to keep it hidden.

“Right,” I said quietly. “But before getting to the tower, Cleopatra must have made a stop along the way and found a secure place to—”

From the corner of my eye, I caught sight of Isadora approaching.

She held something small in her hand.

A gun, glinting in the moonlight.

She lifted her arm, aiming directly at Inez. Her finger curled around the trigger. My heart stopped.

CRACK.