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

Capítulo Veinticuatro

CAPíTULO VEINTICUATRO

“Don’t make me ask you again, Inez. I have no more patience for the little games you play,” Mr. Sterling said.

He was more persuasive than a siren luring sailors to their doom. I looked away, biting my lip. No part of me wanted to agree to his counteroffer. However, once my uncle and Abdullah were free, I could go to them and tell them everything I knew about Basil Sterling. How he operated, the name of his known associates, the location of the gate—at least the one I had attended. They’d take the information, and then the search for him could begin, and maybe he’d end up in a cell next to my mother. There was still time to involve the authorities and save Cleopatra’s cache from his greedy hands.

“I accept,” I said.

“Now, tell me where I can find her.”

“She’s excavating in a library.”

He straightened, his exasperation making his mustache twitch. “Do you take me for a fool? The library was destroyed. Several times.”

I nodded slowly. “The one above ground, yes. But there’s another.”

“Another library?” he asked flatly. “Where?”

“What survived of the collection was moved to the Serapeum,” I said. “The daughter library of Alexandria.”

He brushed this aside with an airy hand. “Everyone knows that.”

“I’m sure you’re right,” I said. “But did you know my mother is excavating underneath where it had once stood?” I had to force the rest of what I knew past my lips. “There is a system of subterranean canals that lead to an underground secret library.”

“You’re lying,” he said. “I know all about the hundreds of cisterns beneath the city streets, but the Serapeum does not have a secret entrance that leads below ground. That area has been pillaged for centuries. I think I would have discovered an underground library before Lourdes.”

“Perhaps she is more clever than you,” I said coolly. “I never said the entrance was at the Serapeum. The entrance is several streets over from the ruins, marked somehow by Cerberus. It will lead down to the canals, and the library might be close by from there.”

“Might be,” he repeated, his tone steeped in skepticism.

“It’s the strongest lead I have.”

“You’re telling me that there is an underground library, and the way to get there is by navigating the sewers of Alexandria?”

I nodded. “Like I said, it’s the best clue I have.”

“How do I know you speak the truth?” he demanded. “You are too wily by half.”

“How do I know you’ll keep your word?” I countered. “You’re too despicable by half.”

He stared at me for a long moment. The seconds ticked by, and I kept my eyes trained on his face, searching for any clues as to what he was thinking.

“Well, then,” he said finally. “I suppose we have to trust each other. Excuse me a moment,” Mr. Sterling said, getting up and striding to the door. He disappeared, and I bent forward, exhaling deeply.

I felt as if I had made a deal with the devil. I jumped to my feet and began to pace, worrying my lip so hard I almost drew blood. Eventually, more tea was brought, along with a plate of food. My stomach raged at me to eat the pita bread and hummus, the fresh tomato-and-cucumber salad drizzled in olive oil and finished with chopped herbs. But I resisted the temptation.

It might be poisoned.

Instead, I kept walking, throwing a disgruntled look at the locked door and window.

When Mr. Sterling finally returned after what felt like hours, I had to restrain myself from throwing the plate of food at his face.

“You’ve been gone for hours,” I hissed. “It’s time for me to go.”

“I had Mr. Graves verify your information,” he said smoothly.

My breath caught in my throat as I waited to hear the verdict.

“It is as you described,” Mr. Sterling said finally. “Very clever of you to put it all together. We found Cerberus at the entrance. It does seem to connect to a larger system of canals.”

“Did you find the underground library of Alexandria?”

Mr. Sterling looked at me for a moment, then his eyes dropped to the food. He frowned. “You haven’t touched your meal.”

“Did you?” I pressed.

“I think it’s high time we go and have a conversation with your mother.”

“ What? ” I gaped at him. “You found her?” I thought about what that could look like—my mother furious that I had not left Egypt after she had sent me the first-class tickets, and then her volatile gun-loving lover, Mr. Fincastle, more than likely blaming me for Isadora’s death.

And Whit and I caught in the middle.

“I told you,” I said through gritted teeth. “I don’t want to be a part of—”

“But you already are,” he said gently. “You’ve been a part of my plan from the very beginning. You see, Inez, I’m the reason why you’re in Egypt at all. I did the one thing I knew would hurt your mother.”

“What are you talking about?”

“We’re connected in more ways than one,” he said, using his chin to point to the golden ring on my finger. “Or did you really think I gave it back to you for no reason?”

I glanced down at it in shock, my mind protesting.

“Some of the magic had also clung to me when I first put it on, and I was able to track you down by paying attention to the way the spell sang in my blood, calling to be reunited with that ring. Astonishing, isn’t it? A phenomenon that doesn’t happen with every object that passes hands, but when it does, a curious link is formed. I believe that same link helped you to discover Cleopatra’s tomb. Isn’t that right?”

“That’s how you followed us to my mother’s apartment. It’s how you knew where we were staying.” I couldn’t get the ring off fast enough. I flung it at the chair, disgusted that he had tracked me down as if I were a hare.

“I wondered if you would indulge in a childish fit,” he said coldly. “Put the ring back on.”

I squared my shoulders. “No.”

“Do it, or I’ll send Mr. Graves after your young brute.”

Revulsion rose up my throat. He was unconscionable. A man without morals or any sense of right or wrong. Clenching my teeth I went to go pick up the ring, but I refused to put it back on. I wanted to fling it far from my person.

As if sensing my thoughts, Mr. Sterling chuckled softly. “Oh, I’m afraid the damage has already been done.”

It was as if the worst parts of myself were laid bare at his feet. Guilt gripped me tightly as I shoved the golden ring back onto my finger. He was talking about Cleopatra’s tomb.

“Don’t feel too bad, se?orita,” he said. “I wanted you to find her all along.”’

The room began to spin. I hadn’t noticed before, perhaps thanks to the chloroform, but Mr. Sterling had switched his speech pattern. He no longer spoke in a loud, bombastic way. His voice had turned mild, almost sedate. “I don’t understand,” I said in a breathless whisper. “What does all this mean?”

“I’m afraid you’ve been caught in the middle of a war I’ve been fighting against your mother. But I think it’s time for the truth. Don’t you?”

He sounded like someone I’d spoken with before. Elegant and refined. I could picture the swirl of tobacco smoke, see a leather chair and the decanters of whiskey lined up on a shelf. “Why are you talking differently?”

“Let me ask you a question, Inez.”

I stiffened at the informal tone, at odds with the way he had been speaking to me.

“Do I seem at all familiar to you?”

His question confused me. We had met months ago, on that awful train ride from Alexandria to Cairo. I frowned at him. “In what sense?”

Mr. Sterling smiled faintly. “In the sense that matters.” He reached up and tossed his hat to the floor. I stared at it, completely taken aback.

I hadn’t expected him to—

He lifted his hands to his balding head and began peeling the skin. I watched, half-transfixed, half-disgusted, as he kept pulling at his scalp to reveal dark hair, shot through with silver, covered by a bald cap. He regarded me intently, light eyes fixed on mine. His hair fell in disorderly curls across his brow, and a feeling of trepidation stole over me.

Mr. Sterling fingered the end of his mustache and slowly tugged it off. He dropped the mustache onto the floor, but I barely noticed. A shimmer of magical energy pulsed between us, faint, like the softest brush of cloth against skin. His light eyes, a cool green, darkened into a rich brown.

I watched in horrified silence as Mr. Sterling became someone else entirely.

WHIT

I wiped the sweat off my brow as I peered around the corner of the same back alley I’d stood in in Turkish Town, mentally cataloguing my injuries. The gunshot wound was taken care of, thanks to the ink bottle. The brawl outside the hotel had left me with a sore jaw and bleeding knuckles. There might be some damage to my ribs—I felt a tug deep in my side.

So essentially, I was fine.

Sterling’s building looked innocuous, but I knew my wife was inside. I ducked out of the alley and crept closer. The front door opened, and I quickly ran to the other side of a donkey cart, parked close to the entrance. Mr. Graves stepped out of the house.

“Send messages out now,” he said. “I can have ten men meet us at the entry point. If the girl isn’t lying, that is.”

“I don’t think so,” Sterling said, appearing behind Mr. Graves. “Where is the carriage?”

“Just around the corner,” Mr. Graves replied.

My eyes flicked to the front door, left open. I hadn’t seen Inez come out.

“Do you want me to take her with us?”

Sterling shook his head. “No. She’ll stay behind in the house with me. We’ll bring her later once I understand what we’re dealing with. I’ll wait for your return before I speak with her again. Don’t be gone too long; I’m impatient to finish this.” He turned away and disappeared into the house.

The carriage pulled up behind the cart. I shifted, moving around so as not to be seen while Graves climbed into his transport.

I could run inside that house and shoot anyone who crossed my path to save Inez. But it was risky, and she could be caught in the cross fire.

Or I could follow Mr. Graves and see where he would be taking her.

The driver clicked his teeth, and the horses lurched forward. Once again, I moved out of the way, considering my options.

Just as the carriage made a turn down the street, I took off after it in a dead run.