“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 tomewhen 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 youknew 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, señorita,” 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?”
