“Nico?”
“I can’t move. You?”
“No.”
“Gigi?” They could hear Brynn and Chase.
“Stay back.” Gigi yelled. “Stay away from the sand.” It was up to her waist now, engulfing Canary in his small cage attached to the belt at her waist. Thank Heavens he didn’t need to breathe. Breathe? “It’s going to suffocate us.” She couldn’t keep the fear at bay, it sounded a horrible way to go, drowning standing upright in a river of sand.
“I don’t think so.” Nico grit his teeth as the sand encased his chest and flowed higher still. Squeezing Gigi’s waist lightly in reassurance. “I think we’re about to go on a trip. Just think of this as a really sandy inconvenient taxi service.”
“I really, really hate this.” Suffocating was one of Gigi’s number one fears.
“I’ve got you.” Nico’s gaze blazed with confidence. His arm around her waist already frozen in place by the encasing sand. Wherever they were going, they were going together.
It was too late to do anything now but take a deep breath and stare into each other’s eyes for two seconds more before they were forced to close them as the sand moved ever higher, covering them completely.
By all the storms. Nico felt the magic around them surge, grip tighter and yank them elsewhere. Anger boiling in his gut. He’d seen the fear in Gigi’s eyes, a first, as he didn’t think there was much that scared her. He wanted to soothe it away. Reassure her that everything would be alright. Seriously, who was he kidding, he wanted to make someone pay in blood and pain for upsetting the woman he had come to admire so very much.
Ouch. Feet slamming down onto a hard surface, his knees protesting, the sand dropping away in an instant. Excellent, time to kick some ass.
Chapter Thirteen
Gigi blinked, very glad Nico’s arm was still wrapped around her waist. That landing had been a tad abrupt. Taking a deep breath, she studied her surroundings. It looked familiar, very familiar. Had she been here before? No, it was the painting of Qetesh surrounded by fawning followers come to life. This room was either a replica, or actually where the painting had been created some five hundred years ago.
The woman, no, deity, posing sensuously on a large velvet daybed. Her pale blue toga-styled gown draped around her artfully, displaying one bare shoulder and a lot of leg. Though since the material was all but see-through and very clingy, exposing any actual flesh was a little redundant. Dark hair pulled up and back, falling in fat ringlets. Her skin golden-brown and gleamingly flawless. Eyes dark but ringed with gold.
Twelve or so followers, all golden-haired and skin, both men and women, surrounded the bed, kneeling, all their attention upon the dark-haired, dark-eyed beauty. They looked on her with adoration and love, as if she were the answer to everything.
Qetesh’s lush lips pursing into a small pout of annoyance as she eyed the new arrivals. Lifting a languid hand, waving it in the air. Instantly, golden shackles clicked tightly into place around Gigi’s ankles. The same for Nico.
More of Qetesh’s followers, golden and gleaming, ringed the edges of the room. All men. All gorgeous, dressed in togas and roman sandals, with swords holstered on the belts at their waists. Their attention rivetted upon Qetesh, not the new arrivals. It seems her honour guard were more for looks than actually useful.
“Why did you bring her?” Qetesh’s voice was rich and husky, though the slight whiny tone edging her words did it no favours.
“You said—”
“—bring him.”
“Not our fault she hitched a ride.”
“Consider us even.”
“Tell your Mother.”
The two men, standing off to the side, couldn’t look more unimpressed with Qetesh. There was no admiration in their gazes, and little respect in their attitude. The duo identical, their drawls undeniably of Texan origin. Oh, Merciful Lady, Sek and Mot. It had to be.
Though they didn’t look anything like the wanted posters that had been circulating worldwide following their museum heists of just over a year ago. These two men were dressed in high-end three-piece suits. They’d slimmed down dramatically. Their complexions less ruddy. Dark hair slicked back. Rolexes on their wrists. Shiny, expensive leather loafers on their feet.
Gigi recalling her cousin Erik’s meld wife, Cara, telling a story about the demi-assholes creating a sand monster to transport her to the Met in New York. Which Cara, thanks to her uncontrollable chaos powers had all but destroyed. Gigi noting that the pools of sand that had dropped to the floor around her and Nico were now moving in fast rivulets across the black painted wooden floors headed for the duo. Climbing over their shoes and disappearing up their trouser legs. Reclaiming their power, which was clearly plentiful now.
The sand monster had been thirty-feet high. It had effortlessly transported her and Nico from the atoll to wherever they were now. Sek and Mot had powered up a level or five. But even though they stood there now, contained, reeking of money, somehow they seemed antsy to Gigi. As if they wanted to be on the move, gone.
Hmmm, she doubted they cared that every police and insurance department in the world considered them wantedmen. No, she had a feeling their father, Apep, the God of Chaos, was their main worry these days. Not so surprisingly given they’d killed their sister, their father’s favourite child in a fit of jealousy and then proceeded to try and kill their father. But Apep’s soul fled his body before they could get to him, denying them access to real power. The duo forced to lug around Apep’s mummified remains, using it like a battery for thousands of years.
Now Apep’s soul was back in his body. And he’d made it universally known that he was very, very interested in being reunited with his two surviving conniving sons.
“Wait. Dispose of her.” Qetesh instructed imperiously, pointing at Gigi. She had a very red queen - off with her head - vibe about her.
